#she............

She had always been an insightful child.

That was what her governess had said, when Itarillë had answered every question on her tests with perfect accuracy. It was what her father had said, when she leaned over his desk and pointed out flaws in his latest set of blueprints, when she was still only hip-high. It was what her aunt had said, with her mouth drawn in a frown, when Itarillë confessed her dark dreams to her.

It haunted her; the tower in her dreams, the golden walls caging her in as the world burned outside. The rocky wall of a cliff, the ground rising up to meet her. A child’s scream. Her grandfather’s crown bent out of shape at her feet.

Insightful. Prophetess. Far-seeing.

“Can I help you?”