We Have Been Waiting For You Father

 In the winter of 1366 a brood of fatherless triplets was born in the dead gullet of night.

They breached screeching like piglets pulled out by their horn feet.

The three girls were not normal.

Horribly deformed, twisted, curled and muscled, they didn't look like human kin, rather the issue of some ferocious deceit.

The mother tended them with loving care, fed them, watered them and cleaned their small tortuous frames with deft, soft movements in the sunshine by their remote cottage.

They coo'd and hissed and purred as their doting mother rubbed goat-fat onto their callouses, where hard skin was forming on the very thickest muscles.

They all slept together, a bundle of love in the straw bedding, the girls wrapped tightly round their beautiful lady like hermit crabs in a pool of dreams.

And so life went on and the mother got older and the girls grew strong, as strong as oxen with tough hides, thick crooked limbs and arched backs. 

They lifted their heavy heads to listen to her words, which filled the valley air like bubbles of sweet milk and she told them how their father was a great king and how one day they would rule alongside him.

But where will you be mother?

I shall still be here for whence you return to kiss me when you like.

But why can't you go to our father?

I cannot my children. I simply cannot, but one day he will come for you my darlings.

The seasons waxed and waned like night and day and the triplets blossomed in size and stealth. For all their gnarled extremities they were formidable beings capable of stilling a forest bear or boar without any great tiring at all.

Their valley was bucolic, lush and plentiful and easily sated their growing appetites for tender herbs, agarics, nightshades and meats, which their mother cooked in the cauldron singing songs about their father.

Yet something swept down the zephyrs from the fells that fateful Spring. Something alarming, dreadful and lethal. It came in the form of a cart of rags, which tumbled down a wooded slope by their home. 

Mother inspected the cloths and realized that they had been sent in malice by the village folk above. To what end she did not know but by the night time she was sick. By morning her fragile human body was festered with boils and ulcers. 

As she lay dying she spoke gently to her girls.

Children, soon I will be gone but you will live on to do great things. Do not allow anyone but your father to take you. You will know him.

Farewell my babies. Rule well. Be happy.

Goodbye Mother!

The three girls wept till their calcified hearts broke and as they were burying their beloved by the cottage a dark figure approached. 

The figure was tall and bedecked in a long sable hooded cape. No vision of its face was possible and it's sinuous taloned fingers grasped a great tarnished scythe smeared with blood and black clots.

The children hunched like lobsters. They sensed danger in this thing and heeded their mother's last words, do not allow anyone but your father to take you. You will know him.

They did not see anything of themselves in this entity stood before them. It was not their father.

It spoke.

You tenderlings, three, hideous as offal, as powerful as wolves, come with me and be my scouts, for my task has grown manifold. Do this and you will be spared.

Spared? From what, dark phantom?

Your demise of course! I am Death, in its blackest if guises and I am busy. Scout for me, find the hidden living so I can kill them all and I will let you crippled brats live.

Crippled? We are not crippled dark Lord. Not crippled at all!

The triplets, now well-fed young adults, uncurled, untwisted and rose to their full height, huge and fearsome, as big as cave bears and ten times as strong.

We are not afraid of you Black Death. We are the daughters of the King.

Which King pray tell? Show me and I will melt him to render. 

Take not his name in vane. We will uphold his honour.

Try as you might milklings! Try!

The three girls leapt upon the figure of the Plagued One, their massive knuckled carapaces pinning him to the ground.

Death spat pestilence in their faces and smiled, but nothing happened and the children prevailed 

Death's smile faded.

Are you hungry Sisters?

Yes!

They found the black Lord to be skin and ribs but chewed and gnashed nonetheless, sucking curdled marrow from his bones until only the cape remained, which ascended and flew to a skeletal being in the far away.

Much closer another voice rang out.

You have done well my children!

The triplets turned and saw a scarlet man with cloven hooves grinning at them. His teeth were fanged and his hands clawed, one of which grasped a sturdy fork. Flames rose from his horned crown.

Father?

Yes, my gorgeous offspring!

Oh Father, we have been waiting for you!

I know my triplets, I am here and now, I can give you your true names, which even Death will fear.

Come my children. Come.

Beelzebub, Asteroth and Leviathan!