[ WP ] Years ago , you promised your firstborn to a witch . Since then , despite your best efforts , you ca n't seem to get laid . The witch is starting to get pretty pissed .

The witch gave me a long, hard look. She was a crusty old crone, with a face like a prune, and an attitude that went beyond her years. There was a bitter smell about her, that came from days of brewing potions. I thought that the whole grouchy act was rather endearing. 
 
 
 I gave her a weak grin. “ Well it ’ s rather promising, ” I said. “ I ’ m nowhere near the prime of my old days, but with these good ol ’ looks, ” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively, and followed it with a wink; “ no one can resist me? ” 
 
 
 She sighed, her wrinkled face contorting into a map of folds. For an old woman, Agnis was rather antsy- hands smoothing out the creases in her simple black robes, and constantly adjusting the brim of her hat, which flopped over her eyes. 
 
 
 “ Well……? ” I asked. Silence. 
 
 
 “ Come in. ” Her voice was curt, but she held the iron door wide open. 
 
 
 The witch ’ s hut was marvellous thing to behold. We walked past great glass bottles filled with multicoloured sludge, kept behind iron wrought cabinets. A few cauldrons lay haphazardly strewn around the kitchen, full to the brim with steaming potions. It smelled inviting, but Agnis was known to be rather scatter brained when it came to her organization skills. I palmed a golden quill, and stuffed it into the sleeve of my robes. 
 
 
 The dragon eggs were still in the fireplace, ember red. They were nearly transparent- revealing the delicate forms of the creatures within.I gawked for a while, before she tugged me away with a scowl. 
 
 
 Agnis led me through an opening in the blue silk curtains, and into a smaller room. It was sparsely furnished, but there was a small table and a couple of plush mismatched armchairs, a stove and a bubbling kettle to the right. It looked well lived. There was the slightest scent of coffee in the air. 
 I took a seat, and leaned back in my chair. 
 
 
 `` Tell me, young man. `` She sounded rather cross. `` How can a man of your looks not get a lover? As empty minded as you are-'' and with that, I felt a sharp tap on head ( ow! ) - `` even the dimmest of fools can spend a night at the tavern and have a lay. `` 
 
 
 I jumped in. `` You see, there was this incident with a minstrel and some of the king ’ s guard, and- “, I held my hands up, open palmed, and the golden quill in my sleeve pricked the flesh of my underarm. I was interrupted again by another thwack, this time from an old raggedy broomstick. 
 
 
 “ Foolish boy. ” She had a dour twist to her mouth. 
 
 
 Always getting yourself into trouble. ” The kettle was frothing now, water spewing out of the spout. She waved her hand, vanishing the spilt liquid. 
 
 
 ” What happened to that bravado of yours? ” 
 
 
 Agnis stood up slowly, gathering the folds of her robes in her hands. 
 “ I remember a certain special someone. Was it… ” she tapped the broomstick, contemplating. “ Rosalind? Or Rose? This old noggin can ’ t remember much of her anymore. ” 
 
 
 “ I remember the times you used to visit me. You were smiling back then. ” Her face slackened. 
 
 
 I froze. 
 
 
 “ She was a lovely one, ain ’ t it? All blonde hair and rosy cheeks, like a flower under the sun. “ She took a step towards me. 
 
 
 “ What happened, John? ” 
 
 
 Agnis stepped closer. 
 
 
 My mouth was dry. Silence. 
 
 
 “ An ogre. We were travelling to town- ” my breath hitched- “ and it was almost nightfall. We had nearly reached Arren-Dan, the fortress, and supplies were nearly out. ” 
 
 
 “ We saw fire- thought some friendly travellers, or perhaps some guards would be there to help us. Then- ” I closed my eyes, and bowed my head, a mess of snot and tears. 
 
 
 “ I can ’ t forget her. ” 
 
 
 I felt thin arms encircling me, followed by the bitter smell of potions. Her cropped white hair tickled my neck. 
 
 
 “ No more, ” Agnis said sternly, but not unkindly. And for the first time in years, I let myself cry.
