Fae of the World

A/N

This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I've put a lot of work into it, so I hope you guys like it. Please let me know if you do. Of course, there's always the chance that this is still a Mary Sueish, self-insertionist piece of claptrap. If you think it is, let me know that too. Anything that will help me improve upcoming chapters is appreciated. By the way, I apologize ahead of time for any bastardization of the Arthurian legends and/or Mists of Avalon my warped little brain may have committed. Give me a break; I was biology major, ok? Thanks to my betas, Kate, Kat, Marina, Caitey, Serendipity?, and Riverchick, for their infinite patience and tolerance for my tendency to make the same mistakes over and over again. You guys are great. Ok, I'll shut up now, here's my fic.

Fae of the World

Prologue: The Three Fates

Fate certainly had one sick sense of humor. Why was it that those who were least deserving of death were always the first ones to find it? He looked across the graveyard, which was now covered in shadows. Even though it was always neat and well kept, without a single lopsided headstone or withered flower, it was still a place of death. A place where he would rather not be. Especially now and under these circumstances. He looked at the three women standing in front of the headstone, and met the gaze of the eldest as she lifted her eyes from the ground. She was still very beautiful after all this time, though her eyes exuded her true age and wisdom. They also now held a look of overwhelming sadness. The two younger women stood on either side of her, each clasping one of her hands in their own. Standing there, they reminded him of the three fates: past, present and future. But what happens when the fates can't accept fate? Saying nothing, doing nothing, just sharing their common despair. Finally the youngest broke into tears, her shoulders heaving as she tried to control herself. The other young woman moved over to her and hugged her in an attempt at comfort. The first laid her head on her shoulder, and after a while, her tears stopped.

A wife's regret at what might have been. Two daughters' despair over what will never be. These are emotions of the worst kind. It wasn't fair, to them most of all. They hadn't even been able to attend his funeral as it had been too much or a risk. Now they were forced to say goodbye in this hurried manner.

He knew they deserved more time, and would have done nearly anything to give it to them. But they had lingered here for too long already, and he was beginning to become a little paranoid. He walked over to them slowly. "We should go. It isn't safe." All three looked at him with solemn gray eyes and the eldest nodded her head.

"All right, Reyhan. Thank you for coming with us. Come along girls, we must go." As all four of them slipped away from the grave into the shadows, the youngest stopped and looked back again. Her sister put an arm around her again, guiding her away.

"I know, I know," she whispered softly before the graveyard became silent once again.