Three Sentence Ficathon

She remembers her earliest days, held in her parent's laps on the council days, which were every day early and even just past that sooner still, until it was only her father's lap, her mother gone.

Swanwhite remembers holding her mother's bracelet in her hands at the table, turning it up and down, not knowing what it means that the bracelet is here with her and her mother is not - not yet.

She remembers her father kneeling in front of her, armor on, sliding her mother's bracelet onto her arm, something stricken and dark in his eyes, something terrible, and the words he gave her to carry on just a little while longer.