Idea - Prophecier is forced to prophecy by compulsion (not torture, just can't not), but hates those whose success is being prophecied, so tries to express the prophecy in a way that will make them fuck themselves over.

http://cloudscudding.livejournal.com/688067.html

The silver bird cheeped when she scratched the back of its head through the bars of the cage. "Hush, now, little one," she whispered, leaning close and sneaking it a piece of her biscuit, "we'll be free this afternoon. The Lord Marshall promised. He didn't just pretend, he gave his own soul's oath on it. We'll be free at last." She did not allow herself to think of the nature of the man whose soul's oath she was relying on. It had been him, after all, that had ruined her for marriage when she was fourteen. It had not been an act of bestial lust, but a cold-blooded calculation, executed without mercy but also without brutality. She was, once she understood, grateful for that at least. She knew that her sisters had not been treated as--impartially. At least two of them had hanged themselves afterwards, and she wasn't sure about the third--it could be true that, as they said, she no longer wrote to anybody or spoke, or it could be that she had killed herself--

Inspiration: birds outside
Story Potential: High, perhaps?
Notes: I find it interesting, pondering what this woman, broken in strange ways and isolated for almost her entire life, would do once free. And *why* was she held captive? Prophecy regarding her and her sisters, perhaps? Innate abilities that made her feared? Blood-ties to power dethroned?