The Oldest Story Ever Told – IV

As Fate would have it, the Waterman’s Son was swift to misinterpret all the blessings. His first move was to separate the boy from the girl so as to allow no bond or attachment to mature between them, fanatically repeating Strength’s words to himself. Kru, he raised to be a maiden of impeccable mannerisms and seductive affectations, and in Timir he forged a ruthless assassin. As promised by the Powers That Be, both the children were growing up to be strong, intelligent and single-mindedly dedicated weapons. Against Timir’s lessons of making corpses, Kru was taught to make love until the time when the Waterman’s Son was confident that he had taught them both everything he knew. Day in day out the Waterman’s son persevered to transform Kru into a fatally attractive woman, finally setting her out on her course to enchant his enemies and wreck their homes. Effortlessly Kru waded into the royal circles of Gladrifir, leaving a massacre of broken hearts and broken families in her wake; not much later she caught the eye of Gladifir’s princes. For months she courted the beguiled younger prince, ensnaring him till he lost all reason in her presence. And then just a night before the elder prince’s wedding she landed in his chambers, expertly feigning utter innocence about her whereabouts. In the end it was the elder prince who bedded her and finally, wedded her. The princess who had been promised to the Crown Prince years ago belonged to a powerful kingdom and such a slight was not taken lightly by them. Thus began the War.

Uncontrollably enraged by Kru’s deception, the younger prince decided to join the enemy in the dead of the night. Foolish was this move for the Prime Minister of the enemy, on whose insistence the war had begun, was none other than Timir; the young prince had walked, rather gloriously marched to his own death. Two days later the newly wedded Prince of Gladrifir received a magnificent scroll with a devastating message embroidered in gold.

‘His dainty head hangs on a high staff, royal fodder he is to wretched birds.
We assure you his soul evaporated as swiftly as our trust in your words.
Our honour has been avenged, eye for an eye
His headless body, you can remember us by.
To our homes, we shall return now with our pride restored;
One can only hope Gladrifir does not commit follies it cannot afford’

When the Prince chose not retaliate against his brother’s murder and let the enemy quietly pass away, his own father grievously rebelled against him. On Kru’s sly suggestions, the Prince jailed his parents in a ramshackle corner of the royal palace and crowned himself King. A few days later rumours were heard about the mysterious disappearance of the enemy’s Prime Minister, but no one in Gladrifir gave much thought to it with the ongoing plight of the royal family.

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