The Twelve Sisters

Content notes: abusive parent, death threat, femicide, sexism, fire, curse, mention of execution

A queen had twelve children, daughters each one.
Her husband the king one day said:
“If this next child should be a son,
the girls shall soon be dead.
Then my son will inherit the throne.”

The queen sent her girls to hide, to run,
and wait for a raven so black.
It would bring a message at the rise of the sun,
to say if they could come back.
A pear for a girl; for a boy, a stone.

The sisters waited on each new morn,
for a bird to tell them their fate.
When it finally came the sisters were torn.
What would the message dictate?
A stone at their feet did land.

Together they went away that dawn,
together they left all behind.
Not to be either queen or pawn,
but a new life somewhere to find.
They walked side by side, hand in hand.

When the prince did learn of his sisters one night,
he left at once, to atone.
He found a small cabin, was drawn to the light,
and found it his sisters’ new home.
So at last they all could unite.

In his joy the prince picked, after it rained,
the twelve flowers that bloomed by the door.
One for each sister that he had regained
as a promise to part nevermore.
Twelve flowers, the color of night.

Ungiven, the flowers fell from his hand
as twelve ravens flew over his head.
One of the birds before him did land.
It opened its beak and it said:
“Once more you drive us away!

The flowers were tied to us by a spell;
once plucked, they’ll never regrow.
We will stay ravens forever as well,
just one chance our true form to bestow:
Swear seven years silence, not one word to say.”

A horned hare was lurking nearby,
his thoughts turning nervous and grim.
It was his spell that made the girls fly,
and therein lay danger to him –
as he and the spell were entwined.

The break would start a rip in the weave,
ending all his spells in its wake
With his current captives then free to leave,
his life would be surely at stake –
as they would pay him back in kind.

The prince climbed the highest tree all around
to spend seven years silently there.
A queen passed by when he fell to the ground,
and she took him into her care.
And they both fell in love at first sight.

The hare laughed until his antlers creaked,
as love makes fools of all men.
When words of love the prince would speak,
the hare would be safe again.
And the sisters would further his might.

They married still silent, and a shadow was cast
by the horned hare, now afraid:
his power would break if this silence should last,
so a trap for the queen the hare laid:
subtle but deadly of doubts and fear.

Over the years the doubts found a way,
the spell took hold in the queen
When she ordered his death, not a word did he say.
Before one more night would be seen
he would burn at the hand he held dear.

The flames were starting to lick at his foot
when a flock of ravens swooped in.
As their claws touched the ground,
their feathers like soot turned into midnight skin –
the seven years past, the spell gone.

With hands that were wings just moments before,
they helped their dear brother step down.
The queen, free as well now, bespelled no more,
smothered the flames with her gown,
and they all embraced as one.

They stayed in that palace, they never went back
to their father, still mourning his son,
but cherished their lives and each bird that is black,
as you never can tell just which one
had been one of their dark feathered friends.
And that is how this story ends.