Clusters of crocus
Purple and gold
Blankets of pansies
Up from the cold
Lilies and ivy
Safe from the chill
Safe in my garden
Snowdrops so stillOnce upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived in the land of Vievalla a duke. The duke had a beautiful wife, and they lived in pure bliss. Their happiness was even greater than before when they found they were expecting a child.
On a cold, stormy night, with the wind and the rain rattling the windows, the duchess gave birth to a beautiful daughter. But their happiness was not to be; in the turmoil of birth, the duchess died.
The duke swore on this night that he would do everything in his power to protect his child. Looking out of the window, he saw the ivy climbing up his chateau's walls. He smiled down at the happy baby.
"Ivy," he said. "We shall call you Ivy."
He asked the midwife, who was one of the land's most esteemed witches, to help him protect his child.
"None shall harm this child," she said, "as long as her one true love lives."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A young girl of ten sat in the front pew of the enormous cathedral. She watched in a mix of awe and anxiety as her father, the duke, married the beautiful Lady Catalina. She fingered the locket around her neck, opening it to gaze at her real mother. She sighed, supposing that this new woman would have to do.
She looked at her father; something had changed about him since he had met this woman. Ivy wasn't sure what, but he was much more detached, and willing to obey Lady Catalina's every whim. Ivy had tried many a time to reclaim her father's attention, only to be shooed away by the lady.
"Call me mum," the lady had told Ivy one day, but Ivy could not bring herself to do it. The lady gave her cold feeling, as if all her affection was insincere.
"May I present the Duke and Duchess of Kiele," the priest suddenly said, and Ivy snapped out of her reverie. Her father and the new duchess were smiling happily, and Ivy forced herself to do the same.
"Congratulations," the person next to her said.
"Thank you," she said, smiling meekly.
She rose from her seat and followed her father and new stepmother out of the church. They had just reached outside, when her father turned to kiss his new bride. The next moment, he was on the ground.
Ivy screamed, and bent down next to him. A pool of blood was coming out of his back. Soon a large crowd of people were closing in, yelling different things, but Ivy couldn't hear them. Her stepmother was next to her, but Ivy couldn't see any sign of emotion on her face.
"Ivy," her father said shallowly.
"Yes, Papa?" she said, a tear running down her cheek. She felt as if her heart was being torn into a million pieces.
"I … love you," he whispered, before his eyes fluttered closed. Ivy took his hand and held it to her damp cheek.
"Papa! Papa, wake up! Papa…" she said desperately, but people were picking her up and dragging her away.
"No! No, Papa! I want to be with my papa! Father!" she screamed, as she kicked and pulled with all her might, but the crowd was too strong for her.
"It's alright, your father is in a better place now," they said as they placed her in a carriage. Ivy turned to look out the back window, but all she could see was the throngs of people closing in around her father. She turned back around as the carriage set off, pulling her knees up to her chest. Soon, the tears were streaming down her face as she tried to figure out what had just happened.
The carriage came to a halt, but Ivy made no move to get out. The coachman opened the door and gently took her elbow to help her out. She allowed herself to be walked to the front door of her chateau.
"Ah, there you are."
Ivy looked up to see her stepmother, not a trace of a tear on her face. Next to her were her two daughters, Souzan and Parveneh. Neither of them looked anything but their normal selfish selves.
"With your father gone, you have no right to anything in the chateau," the duchess said coldly. "It all belongs to me."
Ivy felt a rush of fear.
"I've already had the other servants take your things to your new quarters," the duchess went on.
Ivy looked at her blankly.
"If you are to stay in this house, you are going to work. And work you shall. Now get out of my sight."
Ivy, confused yet scared under the withering stare of her stepmother, ran from the room and to the servants quarters, where her friend Mehri stood waiting for her.
"Oh, child," Mehri said as Ivy ran into her arms. "It will be alright, you'll see."
Ivy didn't respond, but continued to cry into Mehri's dress. Her brown hair had long fallen out of its fancy up-do, and she could see in the mirror on the wall that her green eyes were shiny with tears.
"Don't worry, child," Mehri said. "Don't worry."