There was a man. A king. A God.
A father.
He nourished and protected his daughter. She was his perfect babe and he loved her.
A father.
He nourished and protected his daughter. She was his perfect babe and he loved her.
Over time, he watched her grow. She ran in the woods and found joys in the sunlight, dancing in the spring rain and playing huntress in the forest.
Soon she was a young woman and the sight of her quickened the man, so that he too felt the joys of youth, once more. He held her, embraced her and made love to her.
He made her his Queen and gave all the lands to her. She ruled wisely and with strength.
He looked upon her adoringly. She was great; full of power and promise.
He looked upon her adoringly. She was great; full of power and promise.
The land grew older and the labours for food were harsh. The man looked upon his perfect queen and knew that she must die. She must die so that others could eat. He took up the blade and came before her. Willingly, she offered her throat. The perfect queen, willing to die for her people and her king.
Her blood was the gift of life. She received the gift of death.
Her blood was the gift of life. She received the gift of death.
But a queen she was and a queen she would remain. So she took the throne of death and ruled in the underworld, waiting for the time when her king would join her.
As the land turned cold and the man was old, finally he let go of life and crossed the veil, into the world of the dead. There, he ascended the steps to his throne, where he sat alongside his love, queen of the underworld, who had learnt the secrets of death and of resurrection.
When the time is right and the land is ready, she would use this power to return the man to life, so that he may once again be her father. Her lover. Her king.
When the time is right and the land is ready, she would use this power to return the man to life, so that he may once again be her father. Her lover. Her king.