Kin no Keifu

Genealogy of Gold
(This was one of my older works. I did a bit of quick editing before deciding to post it here. It seemed like an interesting-ish story, and I hope you find it that way too.)



Gertrude had a feeling Seth expected it when she threw her iced coffee into his face.

Of course he expected it. To not expect Gertrude Thomas to throw something at him when he made his macabre prediction would be a sign of not knowing her. Still, he took it very well, especially considering that she followed with a flurry of protests. “You’re kidding, right?! You have to be kidding! That can’t be it!”

The man at the counter, the final member of the trio sitting in his near-empty cafe in the middle of the night, shot her a look. “Careful, now, Gertrude; your voice’ll be heard across the street if you don’t turn it down a little.” Gertrude’s face burned at the thought of her parents discovering her late-night excursions, and she forcefully moved back. Her bright gaze redirected to Seth, still disbelieving. “You’re lying. You have to be.”

“I wish I could, Gertrude.” Seth shrugged, staring down at the plaque of wood in his hands. “You know I don’t choose what I write. It’s your ending, and I can’t change that.” He offered it to her slowly, barely keeping the heart-shaped plank in his hands. He didn’t want to touch it. Gertrude grabbed it, her sun-browned hands easily flipping it over so that she could see the words on the back again. They couldn’t be right. They had to be a joke.

Still, the wood was carved with those horrible words, the words that read her destiny and fate. She bent over the horrible plaque and looked it over again. It couldn’t end that way. Her life was going just fine. She had everything she could want. It just wasn’t fair for things to work out like this. She couldn’t fail. She couldn’t let herself fail.

The light glinted off the wooden plaque; the one she knew was hers from the get-go. She’d read them somewhere, from some English poet she couldn’t remember. I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, and in short, I was afraid. What could it mean for her?

Gertrude stood fully again, grabbing the cup by its thick handle and laying it on the table. “Thanks for the drink, Mr Harry. Have a little extra for the trouble.” She dropped a few coins on the table and stalked off, eyes dark. This had to be wrong. It had to be.

But the truth she knew was that Seth’s carvings were never wrong.
 
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