Rosa
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Asor Esse Rosa free porn video
Asor esse Rosa
By Armond
Author's note: The verses found at the beginning of the second section
are from the Dead Can Dance song, 'Fortune Presents Gifts Not According
to the Book.'
***
The man raised high his silvery sword, with tip pointed down, then drove
it into the hard-packed earth. Sighing deeply, he leaned an elbow on its
hilt and surveyed the organised chaos enfolding in front of him.
A herd of beefy warriors body-checked one another as they raced up the
steep stone ramp. Their curses and grunts echoed between the walls of the
ancient testing grounds.
'Our King is chosen like this?'
A month ago, a murder of raggedy crows called the Hags of Anona, flocked
to the dying King's court. They proclaimed the rite of Challenge would be
held.
He frowned, giving his head and cropped black curls a quick shake. 'So
here we are, herded as cattle to slaughter. Where had the days flown? No
time to think things through!'
"Sir Asor does not wish to compete? He deems the prize unworthy,
perhaps?" A tenor voice from behind distracted the man's surveillance.
Asor's gaze stayed fixed on the mass of men nearing the pavilion's great
arched entrance. "And you, have you no itch to be King of Sarras,
Sir...?"
"Sir Leon, from the northern vale, and I do, um, itch. But I reckon I
don't have to best that mindless mob; that's your job. I only have to
beat you. By the way, why ARE we standing here, as those cretins move
towards the tower room? Come, Sir Asor, the early bird gets the worm; the
gods forgive us if one of those morons takes the prize."
"We?" Asor turned gaze on Sir Leon, for something about the man seemed
...off. Leon turned away from Asor's piercing blue-eyed gaze.
"You are welcome to trot after them, Sir ...Leon, you said? True, the
early bird does get the worm, but more often, the second mouse gets the
cheese."
"What does that me-" Screams from above cut short Leon's words. The
champions had pivoted and now raced back down. The descending group was
smaller than the one that ascended, for a dozen or so stood near the
arched door, statue still.
Moments later, twenty men, flushed and sweaty, gathered before Asor and
Leon. The cream of Sarras, braves and heroes all; most hung their heads
and two had wetted themselves.
"You were right, my odd-duck friend," a tall silver-haired man at the
fore of the group said, "a frontal charge was not the answer."
"With all due respect, Duke D?rr?d," Asor answered, "surely, our throne
won't be won by a simple footrace."
"Damnedest thing! Those hideous crones appeared from thin air! Cackling
and glowing green! And their slightest touch turned men to stone. I doubt
even your sword magic could stand against them."
"Sword magic?" Sir Leon asked with a high inflection, "of what magic do
you speak? Tell me more."
"I'll tell the tale at some calmer time, good sir," the duke said in a
dismissive tone, and turned to Asor again. "They were serious about the
dangers of this arcane contest, eh? Review the rules again, for me, would
you Asor?"
Asor smiled, for it was well known the duke had the attention span of a
fly. "Count Remer is the lore expert, my lord. Ask him to refresh your
memory."
The duke drew his polished sword from its sheath and pointed to the
frozen figures near the pavilion entrance. "Remer is there, third from
the left."
"Ah! Fine, but listen this time. So. The first to reach the tower room
and grasp the sceptre wins the throne. The Hags of Anona act as referee
of the test, but they also strive to bar all from reaching the prize. As
you saw, they possess a dark magic. Once the prize is taken, and
Sovereign's Choice is asked, the winner is crowned King."
"Sovereign's Choice? Uh, I know Remer mentioned it, but ...what was it
again?"
Asor exhaled another long sigh. "I wish Remer were here, for I've
questions on this myself. He said Princess Illi will be asked if she
wishes to be the wife of the winner. If 'yes' then they are married and
rule as King and Queen. But if 'no,' the Hags cart her away with them,
never to be seen again and the winner is free to choose his Queen."
The duke snorted. "That's easy enough, my friend, if the royal wench says
no to bedding me, then she's too stupid to be my queen."
The men chuckled at this, with someone calling from the back of the pack
"but that's hows you likes em, Duke, easy and stupid."
More laughed, and Asor was still grinning when he continued. "It's this
part that puzzles me, m'lord. By ancient curse of the Hags, no Sarras
King has sired a prince since, well since men can remember! But there's
no logic to when these contests are held. By custom, our princesses are
betrothed to some nobleman, and that man becomes the next King. Yet every
few generations or so, the Hags mysteriously call a Challenge to choose a
new King. Why? It doesn't add up."
"Are we to talk all day as women, or act like men and storm the tower?"
Leon had spoken with a tenor growl.
"Quite right!" the duke said. He drew his sword and swung it back and
forth a few times. "Asor, what if all advanced brandishing swords? Surely
the Hags must give way even if we can't see 'em?"
"My duke, my brother-in-arms, listen to reason. There must be more to
winning the kingship than running fast and swinging a chunk of metal.
Look..." Asor withdrew his shining sword from the ground. "Only if you
brandish your sword like so will such a plan succeed."
Asor drew his sword and held it before his body at belt level. He briefly
closed his eyes, calling to some well of power that lay deep within.
Soon, his sword began to glow white hot, causing all to avert their eyes
from the concentrated brightness. The very air crackled with energy.
"Amazing!" Leon said, his dark eyes widening at the display. "Do you
truly know where your magic comes from, and how you do it?"
"How is not important," Asor said, as he sheathed his sword, abruptly
extinguishing its blinding light.
In truth, he had no idea how his 'sword magic' worked. His will called
and it flowed. At such times, the intense power that surged through him
into his sword tip felt so right, so good. Yet this special talent had
kept folk at bay, casting Asor as an outsider, or 'odd-duck' as the duke
called him, all his solitary days.
"...what is important is unless you, any of you, can also do this, we
stand no chance using swords against the Hags. My sword's light may repel
the Hags. Yet its range is limited; alone, it cannot overcome these
cunning sorceresses."
"You're trying to scare us away so you'll have no rivals," a voice from
the crowd said. Mutterings of 'he's right,' and 'a witch's trick,' came
from the warriors as they stepped aside to reveal Asor's accuser.
Asor leaned forward to stare upon the slight auburn-haired knight. He
seemed ...somehow ...insubstantial? "I'm not sure I remember you with us
at the beginning of the Challenge, Sir...?"
*ahem* "Sir Arramas," the knight said. He fidgeted with the embroidered
collar of his tunic, and looked away from Asor's gaze. "I was late to the
Challenge start and just at the back when the gates were closed."
"Fine, good knight. If I am leading us astray, then what plan do you
offer to breach the entrance and gain the inner courtyard?"
"Well, um, I say, we don't need your showy magic to best a few crusty
bitches. Instead, we walk as men, in tight phalanx formation, swinging
our swords like the good Duke said. That way, we'll overwhelm them. They
can't get us all; some must reach the inner courtyard."
"Yes!" Sir Leon joined with his boyish voice. "There we'll scatter and
outrun the old Hags. One of us must surely take the prize."
The duke stroked his chin for a few moments. Suddenly he smacked his
leather-gloved fist into his other palm. "Teamwork! By the gods, I like
it! Comrades, let's link and have another go!" The duke started barking
orders and soon a phalanx formed.
Asor shook his head as the men marched back up the stone ramp. 'If they
refuse to think, perhaps they can divert the Hags for a while?'
He joined the phalanx at the rear, but peeled away as his row reached the
base of the ramp, turning to study the most formidable parapet of the
fortress's outer walls. Something within said 'attack there.'
When the hair-raising screams and cackles of the Hags started anew, Asor
sprinted to the parapet. Though the rock surface was polished smooth, his
strange power surged through him and he started bounding up the rock face
of the ancient structure, foothold to handhold to foothold. Though built
to be unassailable, Asor soon stood atop the towering rampart.
From that high perch, he looked down on the inner courtyard entrance
below and saw that ... nothing moved. Everywhere men stood frozen in
different positions: some with fear frozen on their faces, others with
shock or surprise. Asor stomach churned when he spied the duke,
motionless, with sword held high.
"At least he looks heroic," Asor mused with sad smile. From what Count
Remer had told him, the men's only hope was for Asor to win the prize;
once sceptre is grasped, all would be released from the Hags' magic.
Asor looked for signs of the Hags, but the courtyard was empty of all
movement and sound. Next, Asor noticed a ledge, probably intended for
archers, which ran along the inner pavilion walls and beneath a window of
the tower where the sceptre must rest. Luck was with him, for he would
not have to cross the courtyard and risk a meeting with the deadly Hags.
As he neared the tower window, Asor heard voices from within. Peering
over the windowsill, he beheld the sceptre, resting on a stone dais in
the centre of the chamber. Two rods, one gold, the other silver, formed a
/\ shape. At the crown of the /\ sat a bejewelled orb, encircled by
rubies, sapphires and diamonds. Atop the orb perched back-to-back
figurines, a golden crowned man raising a sword, a silver crowned woman
holding a cup. A pulsing white glow surrounded the mysterious object.
Seated next to the dais was a fiery redheaded woman, dressed in a long
purple robe. Her eyes were downcast, and she trembled.
'Princess Illi! So much prettier than the bard songs painted her.'
Asor longed to drink her beauty, but knew this was not the time; he
pulled his eyes from the princess to survey the rest of the tower
chamber. About the room stood the Hags, visible, Asor noted, with a sigh
of relief. They were indistinguishable from one another, with rags for
clothes, greasy gray hair, missing teeth, and wrinkled stretched skin
over bony arms and legs. He counted only six though.
'Think, Asor! There were more of them, no?' At the opening Challenge
ceremony, he was sure he'd seen eight. Yet Remer had called it the Legend
of the Nine Hags of Anona ...so where were the two or three others?
Asor heard slightly deeper voices speaking from across the Chamber and
strained to see the speakers.
Two figures ? two knights ? moved into view; ...Sir Leon and ...Sir
Arramas? Had either won the prize? What was happening here?
Asor caught only snips of words, "-your job to watch him ?" "-sword magic
is trouble-" but sensed frustration from the Hags and the knights, and
worry, for their eyes were fixed on the doorway at the far end of the
chamber.
'Which gives me my opening. D?rr?d would be proud of me for the
ridiculous attack plan I've hatched,' Asor mused.
With a surge of adrenaline, he vaulted through the window, hitting the
stone floor on a dead run. Before a head could turn, Asor had crossed the
chamber to the stone dais. He grasped the golden rod of the sceptre.
"I claim the prize!"
His eyes widened as jolting energy from the object raced down his arm to
fill his body.
"Well done, Sir Knight, the prize is yours!"
Asor sensed that the Hags, the princess and Sir Leon and Sir Arramas had
gathered around him, though he could not move, for the power of the
sceptre held him fast.
"Princess Illi, our champion has been found," a Hag said in cackling
voice. "It is the time of Sovereign's Choice. Grasp the silver arm!"
Together, the Hags been shaking as though possessed; wailing, tearing
their rags and shouting gibberish words, like a chorus from some eastern
isle tragedy:
"Name no one man," "O, stone, be not so," "Never odd or even," "We few,
we few,"
Though Asor saw fear on Illi's face as she reached for the silver rod of
the sceptre, he could only marvel at her beauty:
Silky curly hair the colour of a rose bathed in moonlight, skin fair as
snow, smooth and soft like the velvet of a rose petal, soft green eyes
that opened to meet his. Truly a prize; Asor's heart ached for Illi to
choose to be his Queen.
As her slender hand wrapped around the silver arm, blinding white light
exploded in the room. White numbness, ears ringing, then-
"The princess has failed the test, Sir Asor. Sir Asor, did you hear me?"
He blinked several times to shake the white image that burned in his
eyes, his mind even; he found it hard to think.
"I..." the glow faded and he saw the princess collapsed on the floor,
unmoving. "It is a shame..."
"She was not worthy. We shall remove her from your sight." Several Hags
grabbed the girl, lifted her, and carried her away.
"You have much to do, O champion of Sarras; a coronation to plan and a
kingdom to sort. We depart."
The Hags melted away just as Duke D?rr?d, and the remainder of the newly
unfrozen men burst into the chamber.
"What? Ahhhh! Asor! Good show, you've done it!" The duke instantly
dropped to one knee. "My liege!" All dropped to their knees, then as one,
they stood, raised their swords in salute, and shouted:
"Long live Asor! Long live the King."
***
"Fortune presents gifts not according to the book
Fortune presents gifts not according to the book..."
Gentle ascending arpeggios of lute strings, and a clear soprano voice
rang out over the green expanse that was the Senones Gap.
"When you expect whistles it's flutes,
When you expect flutes it's whistles..."
A long gypsy wagon creaked along a rutted path; a banner hung from its
side. In large letters: The Fabulous Maids of Glenelg!
Below that, in medium-sized print: Muses for Hire!
Below that, in small font: Reasonable Prices, Inquire Within.
The wooden spoke wheels of the garish wagon groaned and bounced as they
rolled over a rock. The song abruptly stopped.
"-hey! Emme! Watch it! Didn't you see that boulder?"
"Course I saw it, I hit it, didn't I?" The flax haired driver called back
into the long wagon, flashing a half smile as she did. "It was a rock and
not a boulder, if you want to get technical. Barely even that Hannah,
more like an overgrown pebble."
A curly auburn-haired woman with lute in hand leaned out of the canvas
curtain behind Emme. "Well, try aiming for the places without overgrown
pebbles then, dear, that last bump woke the little princess."
Hannah turned when a voice from the back of the rainbow painted wagon
called something. "What? ...O my Lady! Samarra says our princess has
spoken her first words."
"What'd she say," Hannah called back.
Emme heard a muffled response. Their 'guest' hadn't uttered a peep since
they had left Sarras, two days ago. She had drifted in and out of
consciousness during that time; understandable, given everything that had
happened to her. Emme was certain the girl's first words would be
profound.
"So? This I gotta hear...what'd she say, Hannah?"
Hannah was grinning. "She has to piss."
Emme reined the four-horse team to a halt.
"Ooo, this is gonna be good," Hannah said.
"Honestly, give her a break," Emme said. "It will be hard enough for her
without eight raunchy wenches turning her peeing into a sport."
Soon, a red-haired young woman, barefooted and dressed in dull brown
breeches and tunic, moved with a purpose from the back of the covered
wagon to a clump of scrub oaks. A rope hung from her neck, and its end
disappeared into the back of the wagon. Several female heads peeked out
the back of the wagon.
After some moments, a cheerful voice called. "All done, sweet ums? Time's
up!"
A quick hard tug on the rope made the red-haired girl yelped. "Stop it!
I'm ...I'm done ...I think..."
As she walked to the wagon, she staggered forward and had to straighten
her back every few steps.
Another tug at the rope practically yanked the girl back into the wagon.
She threw her legs over and tumbled in. Once Emme saw the girl was back,
she gave the reins a shake and the old wagon lurched forward.
"Did everything come out okay, Princess?" a voice inside the wagon said,
followed by muffled snickers.
"Oh my, her face has turned as red as her hair. Like a rose in bloom
...hey! Since our little princess needs a new name, let's call her Rosa."
"Rosa? How beautiful..." answered a second.
"It's perfect..." "I like, I like..." "Brilliant!" "Our little Rosa,"
other voices chimed in.
"I'm ...ASOR, not anyone's Rosa ...who ARE you people? "
"Asor? Really? You're the new King of Sarras, hmm? Noel, Samarra, you saw
Asor up close. Could Rosa be our new king in disguise?"
"Mmmm, Asor," a voice answered, "the way his curly black hair lay on his
face was so cute. And when he smiled, he had those dreamy dimples."
"And how 'bout that butt? Like a stallion!" another voice said. "Sorry to
break this to you, Rosa, hun, but Asor you ain't."
"Why have you done this to me?"
"Aw poor little Rosa, awakens to find she's been sold as a slave to a
gang of gypsy girls," a voice said.
"Or how 'bout a gang of traveling whores and she's the new girl to be
trained," said a second.
"No, wait!" said a third. "A gang of marauding dancing gypsy whores-"
"Leave her alone," Emme yelled back. "By the Lady, you're all pigs,"
Immediately assorted pig snorts and giggles came from the back of the
wagon.
Emme rolled her eyes. "Ignore them, Rosa. We stop for supper soon, and
after that we'll explain everything."
Later, at camp, when the stew pot was cleaned and oiled and the red wine
passed around the campfire circle one last time, Emme stood. She looked
to the western horizon to see the setting sun had paused for a last look
at the earth before he traveled to the underworld. Emme's hair shimmered
golden red in his rays.
Looking to the east, Emme saw the rising full moon had stopped for a
moment just above the horizon; calling hello to her golden brother.
"Ladies, it's time," Emme said and went to draw a silver bowl from a
canvas backpack next to the wagon. Ardra, Ele'ele, would you gather the
sage?
Two women, one a dark-eyed, olive-skinned lass from the eastern isles,
the other, a platinum-haired, fair-skinned maid of the northern fjords,
rose from the circle and walked out into the green prairie grasses.
"Samarra, would you take the rope off our guest? Rosa, you won't cause
trouble, yes?"
The red-haired woman blinked. "Where would I go? Out here? Like ...this?"
She motioned to her body with a hand.
Emme nodded to the fair-skinned woman. "All right, Samarra."
The woman loosened the rope knot and removed the loop over the girl's
head. "Sorry, hun, let me fix that." She touched the girl's neck where it
showed red from the rope, and it quickly faded. The girl touched her
neck.
"How ...what ...did you do?"
"Patience, Rosa, you'll know in a moment," Samarra answered, sitting down
next to her.
Ardra and Ele'ele returned with sagebrush in hand and placed it on the
glowing coals of the fire. They joined the rest of the women seated round
the glowing fire.
When the incense smoke of the sage drifted over the circle, Emme held the
bowl to the rising moon. "I am your vessel, Lady. Fill my soul that I may
serve."
The bowl glowed silver white, and Emme brought it to her lips to drink. A
silver white glow suddenly outlined her body. She passed the bowl to the
woman by her side.
"I am your vessel, Lady..."
From woman to woman, it passed, until eight glowing lights bounded the
circle. One space remained to finish it. Samarra passed the bowl to the
red-haired woman, whose eyes were frozen wide.
"I ...I can't do this..."
"Just take the bowl and try, love. See what happens!"
She took the bowl and, hesitantly, held it towards the shining full moon.
"I ...I am your...your..." she didn't know what to say; she closed her
eyes. " Help me please ...Lady?"
Slowly she brought the cool metal bowl to her lips, and drank: energy
flowed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, energy like the
sword magic she called when she was Asor, but so much stronger. A burning
heat of countless torches, but a gentle coolness too, that gave awareness
beyond body and senses.
She opened her eyes and to see her body surrounded by silver light. The
other women were standing and holding hands; Samarra smiled, "Come,
sister."
Linking hands, left and right, she completed the circle and circuit.
Voices sang to her in her mind, and she knew them, knew them all:
motherly Emme, mischievous Hannah and exotic Ele'ele. Healer Samarra,
sensual Ardra and Mariram, queen of the dance. Mystical Eve and romantic
Noel.
Together they began a ring-dance, feet stamping intricate patterns and
paths, of twisting and turning, ducking and whirling.
Then, their combined spirit rose from the ground and flew, high in the
night sky and deep in warm earth. To aerie crags of mountain and still
blue valleys of the sea.
And if some child, by chance looking up at brightening moon, had cried to
her mother 'Mum, I see faeries playing on the moon,' who could deny it?
Then, as one, the maids let go their hands, and fell to the ground,
laughing and giggling. Streams of sparkling light shot into the starry
night, and eight stars of the constellation Crater flared, followed by a
ninth star, blazing bright. Together, they outlined the celestial Cup in
silver.
After a time, Emme lifted her body up on her elbows and looked towards
the red-haired woman.
"Well done, Rosa! Do you understand now?"
"You ...all have the same, um magic, as I, only ...only..."
"Only what, dear," Emme asked.
"Only it never felt like that before. Whenever I would call the sword
magic, it felt good, but it was so intense and concentrated. This time,
what we did, it tingled throughout my body, wave after wave." Rosa closed
her eyes and sighed. "It was wonderful."
She cocked an eye open. "Hang on! You ...you six...are the Hags. And
you," Rosa looked at Noel and Sammara. "You were Sir Leon and Sir
Arammas! I know it! I've seen it in your minds. It was ...all a set up,
wasn't it? There was no 'prize!'"
"Oh she's a fast one, she is," Noel said in the tenor voice of Leon.
"Our Rosa's a genius; almost figured it out, she did," Sammara answered
in the boyish voice of Arramas.
"Almost?" Rosa asked.
"It was a set up, tis true," Hannah said, "but there was a prize ...twas
you!"
"Me? But I don't under-" Rosa looked at the eight grinning faces. Nine
Hags of Anona, Remer had said. Nine.
"I'm to be a... a Hag of Anona?"
"We prefer to call ourselves the Maids of Glenelg when we are not on
official business," Noel answered. "All that cackling and screaming is
hard on the throat. You'll know what I mean when first you take on the
aspect."
"Your official business? What do you mean?" Rosa asked.
"'Our' business, dear, and you tell us," Eve said. She knelt where Rosa
still lay. The other women crowded round Rosa as well.
"Call to your power," Eve said. Her oval eyes were pools of night. "Call
it as you called your sword magic, and see what it tells."
Rosa closed her eyes. Images swirled to her mind at her slightest will.
"In the southern most desert town of Ak'ka, a baby boy is born with a
club foot," she spoke in a faraway voice. "If healed, he grows to be a
great warrior, protecting the folk from nomad raiders."
"In the eastern fishing village of Okonoko," she droned, "a young woman
struggles. Her father wishes her to wed a local fisherman. But if she
goes to the artisans' school of Capac, she will weave wondrous
tapestries."
Rosa's eyes blinked open. "How do I know these things?"
"This is what we do, Rosa, our 'official business'," Emme answered.
"Sunlight and starlight. Mighty kings to rule our people, and hidden
priestesses to guide them along the Lady's way. We nine are the secret
priestesses, the underground well. And so we go, first to Ak'ka, then to
Okonoko, then somewhere else after that. The Lady will tell us where and
when."
"But why me? Were you all men once too?"
"No Rosa," Hannah said. She twirled one of Rosa's red locks with a
finger. "Only you were so cursed." The eight burst into laughter.
"Never mind her," Emme interrupted, kneeling on her knees next to Rosa.
"We, as you, were born with the talent, and like you, it separated us
from our peers. When we came of age, the Hags appeared at our homes to
spirit us away. Our families were more relieved than saddened, for our
abilities unnerved them."
Ardra caressed Rosa's face with her olive-skinned hand. "It works this
way, love: when one of us journeys on to the Lady's bosom, another
appears in the land to take her place."
"Yet every so many generations," Ele'ele continued in her thick desert
accent, "a man is born whose soul holds the starlight power; only the
Lady knows why. To get him to join us, we call a Challenge, guide the
bewildered soul so only he reaches the scepter, and pull the switch."
"It's a scam that's worked forever," Noel said. "You're the only one we
know of that actually won the contest fairly."
"But why all this trickery? Why not just let me join you as I was?"
"You'd have joined us? Really? Oh my!" Hannah held her had to her mouth
in mock surprise. "Perhaps I misjudged you. The great hero Asor would
have chucked it all to join a pack of lewd women that dance and sing in
public for coin-"
"Well, uh-"
"-and sometimes disguise themselves as drooling mad old bats?" Hannah
continued.
"Er, no, I mean-"
"Of course you wouldn't, what male would? Don't be silly. Anyway, the
magic works best with a woman's body, though, again, only the Lady knows
why."
Rosa stood now. "But how will this remain a secret? Won't Princess Illi
...who's in my body I suppose ...tell all?"
"No, love," Emme answered, smiling, "that's the simple beauty of it. She
thinks she's you. She has all your memories and none of her own."
"But that's unfair to her, isn't it? To lose her memories, her life..."
"Worry not of her," Hannah said, "Old King Bacab treated her like an
enfant, barely letting her wipe her arse. She was born a helpless
princess and now rules as powerful King, master of her destiny. In her
soul, she's as happy as a clam."
Hannah gave Rosa's cheek a playful slap. "Can you deny this, sweet ums?
Look into you soul and tell us this is not right."
Rosa sighed long, and then looked into each of their eyes "I've felt the
power ...read your hearts .... I cannot deny it. But this ...this body
...is so ...so..."
Emme put a finger to Rosa's lips. "You're not alone anymore, dear. You've
eight sisters to guide you, to torment you and to love you. We will show
you what you need to know."
"We'll teach you the Dance," Mariram said.
"And the prayers of the Lady," Eve said.
"To shape shift," said Ele'ele
"To heal," said Samarra.
"To dress," said Noel.
"To pamper that lovely body," added Ardra.
"To sing," said Emme
"To roll in the hay with some lusty lad, and let him work his sword magic
on you," said Hannah, clapping her hands together and smiling an impish
grin. "Oooo, this is going to be so much fun!"
'Fortune is strange,' Rosa thought, 'to seek a crown and win a family
instead. A worthy prize indeed!'
"My thanks, sisters. Be patient with me, for I've much to learn," Rosa
said, as her eyes filled with tears, She looked then at Hannah and
flashed a mischievous smile of her own. "Yet I have knowledge to teach
too: any sister playing me for a fool will learn that, whether I'm Asor
or Rosa, I can still kick her scrawny butt."
They laughed and hugged and kissed her, all seemingly at once, and Emme,
whispering close to Rosa's ear, said,
"You'll do just fine, Rosa, welcome home."
_.,-*~'`|`'~*-,._.,-*~'`|`'~*-,._.,-*~'`|`'~*-,._
Avriella
- 28.11.2021
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