Voting - Female Fanfiction - Part Two
This is the part two of the voting for the female fanfiction challenge - fic 8. Fics 1-7 can be found here.
Please use the template below to vote, you'll get 10 points for voting and you can't vote for your own fics and it ends on Tuesday 20th December at 5pm UK Time
Team Name:
First Place:
Second Place:
Third Place:
Eight
She makes her way home after night has fallen, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders and her head bent against the rain, when she first sees it. There’s a prison cage left in the street and the young woman inside is a druid. Gwen knows that instantly. There’s no other reason for a girl, not too much younger than herself, to be so casually displayed, imprisoned in chains, in such ragged clothes, her hair hanging in tangled strands and her eyes wide.
Except she’s not a woman anymore. Not a person. Just something to be caught and traded. No more than a slab of meat which will quiver at a touch and fear for her very life.
A life that will not matter now she is in Camelot.
Gwen passes the cage slowly, wonders if it’s wrong to stare. The young woman inside the cage makes no move. She just crouches in the far corner, huddled against the chill, staring miserably out. Her body shudders, either from the cold of the rain or fear of her fate. Or both, Gwen suspects. In a way her eyes seem to be pleading, asking Gwen so desperately for help. But it’s a hope which is fading quickly.
With a sharp intake of breath, Gwen turns and hurries on her way. In the front of her mind she still carries the image of the young druid woman and that rapidly vanishing glimmer of hope. She quickens her pace and can only hope that it won’t be lost just yet. What she plans would ultimately be described as foolish but as far as she could see there was just no other option.
---
By the time Gwen returns, the rain has stopped. Nobody else is outside that Gwen could see. Nobody except her. And the young druid woman still in the cage. Still huddled in rags and chains, gazing miserably out into the dark.
Gwen feels her heart hammering so hard in her chest it hurts. Her breath is short but she steels herself and breaks cover from the shadows towards the cage. As soon as she makes the move she tells herself this is it. No going back. But there is nothing to be regretted. The rest of Camelot may be willing to let this pass, but after all Gwen has seen, and after all she has been through, she will not.
She came prepared with tools from the forge. Gwen knows how to use them and has the lock broken from the cage in no time (though it felt like it took an age). As she swung open the door and climbed in, the woman looked up at her, her eyes wide with both surprise and a heart-breaking fear.
“It’s okay,” Gwen utters as quietly as she can, holding one finger across her lips as a gesture for the young woman to be quiet. “I’ll help you.”
When she kneels down, the woman tries to flinch away. But against the bars of her cage she has nowhere to go. As she works at the shackles which bind the woman’s wrists, Gwen finds herself making the conscious effort not to look up at her. The look in her eyes is so lost and desperate, Gwen isn’t sure if she can take it and there isn’t a second to waste.
“Come on,” Gwen says, grabbing the woman’s hands as soon as her tools break through the chains and the shackles fall with a clatter. “Run!”
The woman’s fingers grip Gwen’s hand tightly as they climb out of the cage. Then they run, around the backs of houses, keeping to the shadows, never looking back behind them.
---
The door closes behind them and the first thing Gwen does is shut all the curtains. She feels she should light some candles, but finds herself afraid of any attention it might draw. So she keeps her tools near, places them down on the table where she can snatch them up should they be needed again soon.
Then she turns and looks at the druid woman in her home. She stands hunched with her arms wrapped around her body. The ragged dress hangs from her shoulders and her hair falls in a mess. In the dark Gwen can see how she shudders. While she does not dare to light any candles, Gwen takes the cloak from her shoulders and goes to drape it over the woman. But she flinches away, her eyes suddenly so wide and so frightened.
“It’s alright,” Gwen says and holds the cloak out towards the woman. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be cold.”
The woman looks at Gwen for a moment, scared and cautious. Then, slowly, she reaches out one arm and takes the cloak from Gwen.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, wrapping it around her shoulders.
“What?”
“Help me?”
“Well I saw you and…” Gwen swallows and those memories come up again. The feeling of shackles rubbing against her wrists, feeling the time so slowly dragging by, knowing that with each passing moment she was only drawing nearer and nearer to death. “That was me once. Waiting to die because of what I was. Or what they thought I was.”
“You’re not magic,” the woman says, clutching the cloak closed against her chest.
“No,” Gwen shakes her head. “But you are, aren’t you? Oh no, no, it’s okay,” she adds quickly as the woman looks frightened again. “It’s okay. I’m going to help you. I promise. What’s your name? I’m Gwen.”
“Freya,” the woman tells her. She still eyes Gwen wearily, but the fear is going and the way her body shudders with chill is starting to subside. Dropping her gaze down to the floor, she says; “you shouldn’t. They’ll find me. You’ll get into trouble.”
“They won’t.” Gwen starts towards her, but Freya flinches back again. So Gwen tells her; “I won’t let anybody find you. I’ll help you get out of here, I promise. We’ll figure something out.”
“Why would you?” Freya asks. “If you’re not magic?”
“Because I still see how wrong it is,” Gwen told her. “And I’ve gone through it. I’m not afraid of what anybody could do to me anymore, so I will help you. I won’t let you get hurt anymore, Freya, but please trust me.”
Freya watches her for a moment longer. She doesn’t shiver anymore and stands there clutching Gwen’s cloak across her chest. Her tangled hair falls over her shoulders and casts shadows over her eyes. But Gwen sees the way her lower lip stiffens for just a moment. Then Freya nods once, a gesture so small Gwen would have missed it had she not been watching Freya back so closely.
“I trust you.”
---
Through the night they huddle together in the back room. Gwen’s cloak is still around Freya’s shoulders and she still shivers. But this time with fear. As they crouch down, ready to bolt through the back door should they need to, Gwen clutches a fire poker in one hand, the first weapon she grabbed when she reached out at the first sounds of a hunt. Her other arm wraps tightly around Freya’s shoulders and holds her close. Against her body she feels Freya shudder and against her neck is hot panting breath as the young druid women stays as silent as she can through her utter terror.
---
With barely any sleep, it’s Gwen’s fear which keeps her awake the next day. With every approaching footstep, every bang of closing doors, she looks around, fearful of who might be approaching. As she goes about her chores, she keeps a watch through the windows, always with the worry that she might see Freya being dragged away.
It’s a long day of short breath and a racing heart. Morgana notices that something isn’t right and asks her what the matter could be. But Gwen tells her that the weather was bad during the night and she didn’t sleep well. She quickly explains that she will need to fix the roof on her home because the wind and rain was making it rattle. Then she gets back to work, busies herself to try and keep herself occupied, though Freya is always at the back of her mind, and to help the time pass, though it continues to drag. While she works in her mistress’ chambers, Morgana seems to keep a worried eye upon her. Gwen’s stomach knots painfully and she feels horrible for having lied. While she doesn’t doubt that Morgana would want to help the hunted-for druid girl, for she so vocally tries to defend those of magic, Gwen decided early in the morning that she didn’t want to drag her into any more trouble. Morgana had been through a lot already and Gwen did not want to concern her with anything more.
Finally, when the night draws in again, Gwen returns home with an armful of leftovers from the kitchens. She remains weary and tense on her way back, still looking around at every noise, expecting at any moment to be snatched up and accused. The second she steps into her home, she’s frantically looking around. But everything is as she left it.
Freya is still in the back room, huddled against some sacks with Gwen’s cloak still around her shoulders. She’s sleeping and Gwen lets her as she prepares a meal, making a stew with the scraps of meat and vegetables the kitchen let her have.
When Gwen wakes Freya, she flinches back at the touch and her eyes fly wide open. At first there is a look of fear etched upon her face and Gwen feels a burn of pity. Though this time there is anger as well, that anybody should be reduced to fearing the mere touch of another.
“I made you some dinner,” Gwen tells her gently, forcing down her anger and frustration. “You must be hungry.”
Freya nods and Gwen gently holds her arm as she guides her to the table. At first Freya gazes at the bowl of stew put before her, then she takes up a spoon and eats. She eats so fast the food is gone in just a few moments and Gwen can’t help but watch, her spoon held forgotten halfway to her mouth.
When Freya has swallows the last spoonful, she seems to be catching her breath for a moment. Then she looks up at Gwen, somewhat apologetically, and says; “I think I burned by tongue.”
“I should have left it for a moment to cool down before waking you,” Gwen says. She gets up to check the pot and scoops more of the food into Freya’s bowl. Again she gulps it down quickly.
“You must have been in that cage for a long time,” Gwen said, sitting back down and starting her own meal. She watches Freya carefully, searching for any sign of her questions going too far.
“A few days,” Freya nods between mouthfuls.
“How were you caught?” the question spills from Gwen’s mouth before she can stop herself, curiosity seizing control of her senses.
“I was careless,” Freya said, gazing down at her stew, bitterness rising in her voice. “It’s my fault.”
“No!” Gwen drops her spoon to reach across the table and take Freya’s hand. “No it’s not. I won’t believe that.”
Freya’s body jolts a little in surprise at Gwen’s touch. As some of the cloak slips, Gwen sees the symbol upon Freya’s arm.
“Were you born a druid?” she asks.
“Yes,” Freya says and she sounds hurt once more when she adds; “but they couldn’t help me. Nobody can.”
“I will,” Gwen insists. “I’ll help you, Freya, I promised you that.”
“You shouldn’t,” Freya shakes her head, becoming upset again, and drops her spoon. “Nobody can help me. I’ll only bring you more trouble!”
“Hey, hey now!” Gwen leaps up and finds herself glancing towards the
window. The curtains have remained drawn since the previous night but
there are no sounds from outside suggesting that anybody should be
approaching. All the same, Gwen doesn’t want to attract any attention.
Not while the kingdom searches for the druid girl and her accomplice. “I
will help you, Freya. You don’t need to be scared anymore. I’ll help
you. I will. I promise.”
Once more Gwen holds Freya for a long
while as she shakes and cries and tries to speak of something that Gwen
doesn’t quite understand.
---
That night Gwen lights
the candles around her home. She leaves Freya to go and draw water,
which she heats and then pours into a bath. Gwen washes the grime from
her hair, brushes it and brushes it until all the tangles are gone, as
gently as she can, though Freya keeps wincing at the tugs to her scalp.
She helps Freya wash her back and shoulders and then gently wipes the
red sores on her wrists where the shackles rubbed the skin.
“You
poor thing,” she says quietly, holding Freya’s wrist gently, steadily
running a cloth over the angry red marks. “How could anybody do this?”
“Somebody like me should be locked up. For all the pain that I cause,” Freya says, her voice so hushed Gwen almost doesn’t hear.
But she does and the words seem to pierce right through her and strike at her heart. Gwen shuts her eyes against it and tries to think of something else or she too may begin to cry.
“Where do you come from?” she finds herself asking. “Your home. Can you tell me about that?”
“My home next to a lake surrounded by the tallest mountains,” Freya tells her. She dips her fingers into the water and swirls them round, making small waves which slosh against the sides of the old tub. She gazes down at the water as she recalls such fond memories and Gwen brushes out her hair some more while she listens. “In the winter the storms whipped up the water until you thought they were going to crash down and take away all the houses. But in the summer.. wild flowers and.. and light. It was like… like heaven.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Gwen smiles.
“It was,” Freya says. “But I haven’t seen it for years. I wouldn’t even know how to get back there now. My family. They died.”
Gwen’s hands still in Freya’s hair. “And you’ve been on your own ever since?”
Freya nods.
Her fingers run down through Freya’s hair until they settle upon her shoulders. “I’ve lost my family as well. But it’s alright, Freya. You won’t be alone anymore.”
Freya looks up at her and for a moment Gwen thinks she’s about to tell her something. In her eyes there is fear and her lips are parted, as though there are words upon them just about to come out. But at the last moment they fail her and Freya says nothing. She just sits back in the water and idly swirls her fingertips in the water, losing herself in memories of a better time as Gwen washes her.
---
Freya still says nothing when Gwen wakes the next morning and finds her huddled in the back room. She’s curled up into a tight ball on the floor, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her hair falling in front of her face as she sobs.
Something is horribly wrong. That night Gwen had given Freya the bed and slept on a chair beside her. She had woken with a sore back and an aching neck but suddenly that hadn’t been important when she suddenly realised that the covers were thrown back and Freya was gone.
Then she had heard the sobbing and gone to her. But Freya wouldn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The sobs caught in her throat as they tore through her body. She shook her head, pressed her palms against her eyes and said things to Gwen that again she just couldn’t make complete sense of.
No use. Hurt. Curse. Trouble.
By the time Gwen leaves she knows she’s late. Freya cried so much she exhausted herself and Gwen let her fall asleep right there still in the back room against the sacks.
As soon as Morgana sees her that day she tells Gwen the relief of knowing she is safe. That’s how Gwen learns of the attack during the night. A couple in the lower town had been found dead, savaged by an unknown beast. Gwen hadn’t heard a single thing that night and found herself relieved that Freya hadn’t come to any harm.
But perhaps she had heard it, Gwen thought. It must have scared her, so that was why Gwen had found her crying in the back room. Fear of the beast roaming outside as well as memories full of loss and loneliness and terror which fill her mind.
For the whole day she worries once more. She knows they cannot go on as they are forever, with Freya hidden in her home completely cut off from the outside world. There is a hunt on for her, a reward to whoever can retrieve the druid girl and a punishment for whoever is hiding her. Camelot is the worst place for her to be and Gwen knows Freya will have to leave.
The thought hurts. But she knows it’s the only way.
As the day comes to an end, Morgana wonders if Gwen should stay with her in the castle until the beast is caught and dealt with. But Gwen insists that she will be okay. There are things she needs to see to and she doesn’t think the attack happened near her home. In the end Morgana lets her go with the promise that she will return to her in the castle should there be any more trouble.
The kingdom is on edge, so nobody casts a suspecting eye upon Gwen as she hurries home, keeping a constant check on who might be around her.
---
Freya is gone and her home is a mess. The door is closed but inside her chars are upturned, her bed pulled away from the wall and her mattress ripped open. Her cupboards are open and her possessions strewn across the floor, untidy and broken. In the back room, each and every one of the sacks has been ripped open and the contents tossed across the floor. In the forge the tools lay in an unorganised mess with coal and cloth.
“Freya?” Gwen calls out to her, searching everywhere, picking through her clothes and food and tools. But Freya was nowhere to be found. Gwen burst out of the back door and ran through the small shadow-covered passageways between the houses of the lower town. She didn’t call out for Freya, though she doubted anybody else knew her name or even cared for it.
Night closed in and Gwen ran and searched, looking everywhere. But Freya was nowhere to be found. Each time Gwen turned a corner or peered into a possible hiding place to find it empty, she felt the desperation grow and the hope of finding her unharmed slip away a little bit more.
Darkness fell over Camelot and Gwen didn’t realise she had been crying until a woman returning from The Rising Sun stopped her to ask what was wrong. But Gwen couldn’t tell her. She kept searching and searching but in the end she was forced to give up when the alarm bells signalled an attack.
Gwen returned to her home and closed the doors. Everything was still wrecked and tossed across her floor but Gwen didn’t care. She fell down upon her broken mattress and cried in sorrow and frustration and beat against her bed with her fist as the bells rang their alarms outside. In the back of her mind she remembered that Morgana would be waiting for her to return to the safety of the castle. But she didn’t move. She just thought of Freya and how she had broken her promise to help her. The loss tore through her heart and was so painful Gwen wondered if it might kill her. She sobbed and screamed into her pillows but nothing made it better.
In the end, Gwen cried herself to sleep.
---
When she woke, Gwen could still hear the sound of sobbing. Again she ached and her eyes were so sore and swollen from crying she could barely open them. But then she realised that the sobbing was not her and sat up.
There, huddled on the floor in the far corner was Freya. She was in the dress Gwen had given her the previous morning, but now it was grubby and torn. Gwen had given her some shoes as well, but Freya seemed to have lost those, for her feet were bare and cut. Her arms were wrapped across her chest and her body shook violently and she cried.
“Freya!” Gwen sprang from her bed and rushed to her. Joy mixed with concern and swirled around in a dizzying emotion. Her chest squeezed and her stomach knotted as she fell to her knees in front of Freya and threaded her fingers through her hair. She pushed it back to reveal her face and the tears which once again fell own her pale cheeks. “Oh, Freya! Thank goodness! I thought something had happened to you!”
“I... I managed to get away,” Freya explained though her tears. “Hid in some tunnels. Near the castle. But I’m sorry, Gwen. I… I’m just trouble.”
“No you’re not!” Gwen said. She too had begun to cry again. She clutched Freya’s shoulders tightly and drew her in to hold her close. As she kissed her forehead, Gwen thought she could pick up the slight taste of blood in the line of her hair.
“I am! I am!” Freya sobbed. “You must listen to me, Gwen. Those bells last night. There was another attack. More people are dead. It was me! It was all me!”
“What do you mean?” Gwen asked. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she clutched Freya tightly, rubbing one and gently up and down her back. “Freya. I don’t-“
“I’m the monster!” Freya burst out. “I’m cursed, Gwen! That’s why the druids wouldn’t help me. When night falls I turn into a monster and I hurt anybody who could have tried to be nice to me. That’s why nobody wants me. That’s why nobody should-“
“I still do!” Gwen suddenly says fiercely. Her hand goes from Freya’s back and begins to stroke through her hair. She presses their foreheads together and tells her; “there must be some way to fix this. There always is. We’ll find it, Freya. You and me. Together.”
“How?”
“We’re leaving,” Gwen suddenlydecides and the choice isn’t as painful as she often wondered it would be. “Tonight. You just need to stay hidden for one more day, Freya, that’s all. And they probably won’t come here again if they’ve already checked.”
“You can’t do that,” Freya looks up at her, shaking her head, her eyes wide. “I can’t ask you to leave everything behind for me.”
“But you didn’t ask,” Gwen tells her. “I’m offering to. Together we’ll find you help. And maybe we could come back one day. But until then I’ll go anywhere with you to help. I promised you I would Freya. I promised you that you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”
“I don’t want to be,” Freya says with a shudder in her soft fearful voice.
“You’re not,” Gwen promised. Her mouth finds Freya’s and time seems to freeze as they’re entangled together. Huddled on the floor in the corner of Gwen’s home, hair bedraggled, clothing grubby, fingers so desperately clutching. Pressed so close there’s no gap between them, able to feel each other’s heartbeats and the heat of breath against their skin.
No more about it is spoken that morning. They both know what needs to be done.
---
Once more Morgana was worried and was so glad to finally see Gwen turn up again unharmed. She knows something is wrong and asks why Gwen didn’t go back to her in the castle when the bells had begun to ring the previous night. At least two more people were dead, torn apart by an unknown monster. Gwen told her that the attack had been closer to her home so she hadn’t been able to get away as the townspeople had been ordered to stay in their home.
This time Morgana insists that Gwen will stay with her in the castle until the situation was dealt with. Gwen manages to smile and thank her and when Morgana embraces her Gwen takes in the scent of powers and perfumes that she knows she will have to savour. For who knows how long it will be before she smells it again.
The decision begins to hurt and throughout the day Gwen aches to suddenly tell Morgana everything. Morgana would help them without question and Gwen knows she would. But her disappearance would only draw attention and Gwen does not want to take her into danger. After all, she will be travelling with a cursed druid girl.
It’s something Gwen knows she will regret for the rest of her life and throughout the day the weight of her decision almost causes her top break down into tears many times. But she sticks to her resolve and her promise and the new pull of her heart. It’s brave and foolish and moving so fast. But Gwen knows that Morgana would surely do exactly the same and would never let Freya down. So Gwen wouldn’t either.
---
Its gone dark when she finally manages to slip away from Morgana, saying she’ll just get some extra blankets as it looks like it may be a cold night. True to her word, she retrieves the blankets, but gives them to another maid and asks her to deliver them. Then, once the woman is out of sight, Gwen runs. She runs through the castle, out of it, into the town and does not stop, does not look around, until she’s back inside her home.
Freya waits for her inside. Throughout the day she gathered some supplies; blankets, food and spare clothes, and even tidied the house a little bit. She wears the dress Gwen gave her and has again pulled the cloak around her shoulders. The hood is drawn up over her head and throws shadows over her eyes. But Gwen still sees the fearful and nervous look turned towards her when she closes the door.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” Gwen asks, feeling a pang of guilt. She is back later than she had expected. “I promised I would.”
“I know,” Freya nods. Then; “are you sure, Gwen? You shouldn’t leave this all for me. Not for someone who-“
“Hush now,” Gwen hurries to her and holds Freya’s head, pressing her palms lightly against the druid’s cheeks. She looked Freya right in the eye as she told her again; “I’m coming with you.”
Freya nods. Gwen draws away just to go into the forge but before she gets there Freya calls for her so she looks back around.
The look in Freya’s eyes is still so sad. And fearful. But this time with some hope and the warmness of knowing she is loved.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Gwen smiles at her and is gone into the forge for only a moment. She takes a sword and then they are gone through the back door. They keep to the shadows, always make sure the path is clear before moving on. Gwen feels her heart pound in her chest, one hand on the hilt of her weapon, the other clutching Freya’s hand. Freya keeps close to her and sometimes Gwen feels her shaking but that only strengthens the resolve to leave as soon as possible.
Somehow they slip away from Camelot. They use a path through the underground tunnels which Morgana had shown Gwen years ago, in case she should ever suddenly need to escape. As they go along through the damp and the dark, Gwen reminds herself to be sure word of their safety gets to Morgana somehow.
But first she needs to make sure they are safe. She needs to make sure Freya is safe and well and no longer in fear of her life. She will take her to the lake, where they will see the mountains and wild flowers, pick the fruit during summer and stay inside where it was warm during the winter storms.
They would go somewhere far away, where nobody knew who they were, where
nobody knew where they came from. Fields. Flowers. A small home
somewhere. By a lake.
With their hands still tightly holding each other, Gwen and Freya vanished into the night as the sound of alarm bells faded behind them.
Please use the template below to vote, you'll get 10 points for voting and you can't vote for your own fics and it ends on Tuesday 20th December at 5pm UK Time
Team Name:
First Place:
Second Place:
Third Place:
Eight
She makes her way home after night has fallen, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders and her head bent against the rain, when she first sees it. There’s a prison cage left in the street and the young woman inside is a druid. Gwen knows that instantly. There’s no other reason for a girl, not too much younger than herself, to be so casually displayed, imprisoned in chains, in such ragged clothes, her hair hanging in tangled strands and her eyes wide.
Except she’s not a woman anymore. Not a person. Just something to be caught and traded. No more than a slab of meat which will quiver at a touch and fear for her very life.
A life that will not matter now she is in Camelot.
Gwen passes the cage slowly, wonders if it’s wrong to stare. The young woman inside the cage makes no move. She just crouches in the far corner, huddled against the chill, staring miserably out. Her body shudders, either from the cold of the rain or fear of her fate. Or both, Gwen suspects. In a way her eyes seem to be pleading, asking Gwen so desperately for help. But it’s a hope which is fading quickly.
With a sharp intake of breath, Gwen turns and hurries on her way. In the front of her mind she still carries the image of the young druid woman and that rapidly vanishing glimmer of hope. She quickens her pace and can only hope that it won’t be lost just yet. What she plans would ultimately be described as foolish but as far as she could see there was just no other option.
---
By the time Gwen returns, the rain has stopped. Nobody else is outside that Gwen could see. Nobody except her. And the young druid woman still in the cage. Still huddled in rags and chains, gazing miserably out into the dark.
Gwen feels her heart hammering so hard in her chest it hurts. Her breath is short but she steels herself and breaks cover from the shadows towards the cage. As soon as she makes the move she tells herself this is it. No going back. But there is nothing to be regretted. The rest of Camelot may be willing to let this pass, but after all Gwen has seen, and after all she has been through, she will not.
She came prepared with tools from the forge. Gwen knows how to use them and has the lock broken from the cage in no time (though it felt like it took an age). As she swung open the door and climbed in, the woman looked up at her, her eyes wide with both surprise and a heart-breaking fear.
“It’s okay,” Gwen utters as quietly as she can, holding one finger across her lips as a gesture for the young woman to be quiet. “I’ll help you.”
When she kneels down, the woman tries to flinch away. But against the bars of her cage she has nowhere to go. As she works at the shackles which bind the woman’s wrists, Gwen finds herself making the conscious effort not to look up at her. The look in her eyes is so lost and desperate, Gwen isn’t sure if she can take it and there isn’t a second to waste.
“Come on,” Gwen says, grabbing the woman’s hands as soon as her tools break through the chains and the shackles fall with a clatter. “Run!”
The woman’s fingers grip Gwen’s hand tightly as they climb out of the cage. Then they run, around the backs of houses, keeping to the shadows, never looking back behind them.
---
The door closes behind them and the first thing Gwen does is shut all the curtains. She feels she should light some candles, but finds herself afraid of any attention it might draw. So she keeps her tools near, places them down on the table where she can snatch them up should they be needed again soon.
Then she turns and looks at the druid woman in her home. She stands hunched with her arms wrapped around her body. The ragged dress hangs from her shoulders and her hair falls in a mess. In the dark Gwen can see how she shudders. While she does not dare to light any candles, Gwen takes the cloak from her shoulders and goes to drape it over the woman. But she flinches away, her eyes suddenly so wide and so frightened.
“It’s alright,” Gwen says and holds the cloak out towards the woman. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be cold.”
The woman looks at Gwen for a moment, scared and cautious. Then, slowly, she reaches out one arm and takes the cloak from Gwen.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, wrapping it around her shoulders.
“What?”
“Help me?”
“Well I saw you and…” Gwen swallows and those memories come up again. The feeling of shackles rubbing against her wrists, feeling the time so slowly dragging by, knowing that with each passing moment she was only drawing nearer and nearer to death. “That was me once. Waiting to die because of what I was. Or what they thought I was.”
“You’re not magic,” the woman says, clutching the cloak closed against her chest.
“No,” Gwen shakes her head. “But you are, aren’t you? Oh no, no, it’s okay,” she adds quickly as the woman looks frightened again. “It’s okay. I’m going to help you. I promise. What’s your name? I’m Gwen.”
“Freya,” the woman tells her. She still eyes Gwen wearily, but the fear is going and the way her body shudders with chill is starting to subside. Dropping her gaze down to the floor, she says; “you shouldn’t. They’ll find me. You’ll get into trouble.”
“They won’t.” Gwen starts towards her, but Freya flinches back again. So Gwen tells her; “I won’t let anybody find you. I’ll help you get out of here, I promise. We’ll figure something out.”
“Why would you?” Freya asks. “If you’re not magic?”
“Because I still see how wrong it is,” Gwen told her. “And I’ve gone through it. I’m not afraid of what anybody could do to me anymore, so I will help you. I won’t let you get hurt anymore, Freya, but please trust me.”
Freya watches her for a moment longer. She doesn’t shiver anymore and stands there clutching Gwen’s cloak across her chest. Her tangled hair falls over her shoulders and casts shadows over her eyes. But Gwen sees the way her lower lip stiffens for just a moment. Then Freya nods once, a gesture so small Gwen would have missed it had she not been watching Freya back so closely.
“I trust you.”
---
Through the night they huddle together in the back room. Gwen’s cloak is still around Freya’s shoulders and she still shivers. But this time with fear. As they crouch down, ready to bolt through the back door should they need to, Gwen clutches a fire poker in one hand, the first weapon she grabbed when she reached out at the first sounds of a hunt. Her other arm wraps tightly around Freya’s shoulders and holds her close. Against her body she feels Freya shudder and against her neck is hot panting breath as the young druid women stays as silent as she can through her utter terror.
---
With barely any sleep, it’s Gwen’s fear which keeps her awake the next day. With every approaching footstep, every bang of closing doors, she looks around, fearful of who might be approaching. As she goes about her chores, she keeps a watch through the windows, always with the worry that she might see Freya being dragged away.
It’s a long day of short breath and a racing heart. Morgana notices that something isn’t right and asks her what the matter could be. But Gwen tells her that the weather was bad during the night and she didn’t sleep well. She quickly explains that she will need to fix the roof on her home because the wind and rain was making it rattle. Then she gets back to work, busies herself to try and keep herself occupied, though Freya is always at the back of her mind, and to help the time pass, though it continues to drag. While she works in her mistress’ chambers, Morgana seems to keep a worried eye upon her. Gwen’s stomach knots painfully and she feels horrible for having lied. While she doesn’t doubt that Morgana would want to help the hunted-for druid girl, for she so vocally tries to defend those of magic, Gwen decided early in the morning that she didn’t want to drag her into any more trouble. Morgana had been through a lot already and Gwen did not want to concern her with anything more.
Finally, when the night draws in again, Gwen returns home with an armful of leftovers from the kitchens. She remains weary and tense on her way back, still looking around at every noise, expecting at any moment to be snatched up and accused. The second she steps into her home, she’s frantically looking around. But everything is as she left it.
Freya is still in the back room, huddled against some sacks with Gwen’s cloak still around her shoulders. She’s sleeping and Gwen lets her as she prepares a meal, making a stew with the scraps of meat and vegetables the kitchen let her have.
When Gwen wakes Freya, she flinches back at the touch and her eyes fly wide open. At first there is a look of fear etched upon her face and Gwen feels a burn of pity. Though this time there is anger as well, that anybody should be reduced to fearing the mere touch of another.
“I made you some dinner,” Gwen tells her gently, forcing down her anger and frustration. “You must be hungry.”
Freya nods and Gwen gently holds her arm as she guides her to the table. At first Freya gazes at the bowl of stew put before her, then she takes up a spoon and eats. She eats so fast the food is gone in just a few moments and Gwen can’t help but watch, her spoon held forgotten halfway to her mouth.
When Freya has swallows the last spoonful, she seems to be catching her breath for a moment. Then she looks up at Gwen, somewhat apologetically, and says; “I think I burned by tongue.”
“I should have left it for a moment to cool down before waking you,” Gwen says. She gets up to check the pot and scoops more of the food into Freya’s bowl. Again she gulps it down quickly.
“You must have been in that cage for a long time,” Gwen said, sitting back down and starting her own meal. She watches Freya carefully, searching for any sign of her questions going too far.
“A few days,” Freya nods between mouthfuls.
“How were you caught?” the question spills from Gwen’s mouth before she can stop herself, curiosity seizing control of her senses.
“I was careless,” Freya said, gazing down at her stew, bitterness rising in her voice. “It’s my fault.”
“No!” Gwen drops her spoon to reach across the table and take Freya’s hand. “No it’s not. I won’t believe that.”
Freya’s body jolts a little in surprise at Gwen’s touch. As some of the cloak slips, Gwen sees the symbol upon Freya’s arm.
“Were you born a druid?” she asks.
“Yes,” Freya says and she sounds hurt once more when she adds; “but they couldn’t help me. Nobody can.”
“I will,” Gwen insists. “I’ll help you, Freya, I promised you that.”
“You shouldn’t,” Freya shakes her head, becoming upset again, and drops her spoon. “Nobody can help me. I’ll only bring you more trouble!”
“Hey, hey now!” Gwen leaps up and finds herself glancing towards the
window. The curtains have remained drawn since the previous night but
there are no sounds from outside suggesting that anybody should be
approaching. All the same, Gwen doesn’t want to attract any attention.
Not while the kingdom searches for the druid girl and her accomplice. “I
will help you, Freya. You don’t need to be scared anymore. I’ll help
you. I will. I promise.”
Once more Gwen holds Freya for a long
while as she shakes and cries and tries to speak of something that Gwen
doesn’t quite understand.
---
That night Gwen lights
the candles around her home. She leaves Freya to go and draw water,
which she heats and then pours into a bath. Gwen washes the grime from
her hair, brushes it and brushes it until all the tangles are gone, as
gently as she can, though Freya keeps wincing at the tugs to her scalp.
She helps Freya wash her back and shoulders and then gently wipes the
red sores on her wrists where the shackles rubbed the skin.
“You
poor thing,” she says quietly, holding Freya’s wrist gently, steadily
running a cloth over the angry red marks. “How could anybody do this?”
“Somebody like me should be locked up. For all the pain that I cause,” Freya says, her voice so hushed Gwen almost doesn’t hear.
But she does and the words seem to pierce right through her and strike at her heart. Gwen shuts her eyes against it and tries to think of something else or she too may begin to cry.
“Where do you come from?” she finds herself asking. “Your home. Can you tell me about that?”
“My home next to a lake surrounded by the tallest mountains,” Freya tells her. She dips her fingers into the water and swirls them round, making small waves which slosh against the sides of the old tub. She gazes down at the water as she recalls such fond memories and Gwen brushes out her hair some more while she listens. “In the winter the storms whipped up the water until you thought they were going to crash down and take away all the houses. But in the summer.. wild flowers and.. and light. It was like… like heaven.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Gwen smiles.
“It was,” Freya says. “But I haven’t seen it for years. I wouldn’t even know how to get back there now. My family. They died.”
Gwen’s hands still in Freya’s hair. “And you’ve been on your own ever since?”
Freya nods.
Her fingers run down through Freya’s hair until they settle upon her shoulders. “I’ve lost my family as well. But it’s alright, Freya. You won’t be alone anymore.”
Freya looks up at her and for a moment Gwen thinks she’s about to tell her something. In her eyes there is fear and her lips are parted, as though there are words upon them just about to come out. But at the last moment they fail her and Freya says nothing. She just sits back in the water and idly swirls her fingertips in the water, losing herself in memories of a better time as Gwen washes her.
---
Freya still says nothing when Gwen wakes the next morning and finds her huddled in the back room. She’s curled up into a tight ball on the floor, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her hair falling in front of her face as she sobs.
Something is horribly wrong. That night Gwen had given Freya the bed and slept on a chair beside her. She had woken with a sore back and an aching neck but suddenly that hadn’t been important when she suddenly realised that the covers were thrown back and Freya was gone.
Then she had heard the sobbing and gone to her. But Freya wouldn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The sobs caught in her throat as they tore through her body. She shook her head, pressed her palms against her eyes and said things to Gwen that again she just couldn’t make complete sense of.
No use. Hurt. Curse. Trouble.
By the time Gwen leaves she knows she’s late. Freya cried so much she exhausted herself and Gwen let her fall asleep right there still in the back room against the sacks.
As soon as Morgana sees her that day she tells Gwen the relief of knowing she is safe. That’s how Gwen learns of the attack during the night. A couple in the lower town had been found dead, savaged by an unknown beast. Gwen hadn’t heard a single thing that night and found herself relieved that Freya hadn’t come to any harm.
But perhaps she had heard it, Gwen thought. It must have scared her, so that was why Gwen had found her crying in the back room. Fear of the beast roaming outside as well as memories full of loss and loneliness and terror which fill her mind.
For the whole day she worries once more. She knows they cannot go on as they are forever, with Freya hidden in her home completely cut off from the outside world. There is a hunt on for her, a reward to whoever can retrieve the druid girl and a punishment for whoever is hiding her. Camelot is the worst place for her to be and Gwen knows Freya will have to leave.
The thought hurts. But she knows it’s the only way.
As the day comes to an end, Morgana wonders if Gwen should stay with her in the castle until the beast is caught and dealt with. But Gwen insists that she will be okay. There are things she needs to see to and she doesn’t think the attack happened near her home. In the end Morgana lets her go with the promise that she will return to her in the castle should there be any more trouble.
The kingdom is on edge, so nobody casts a suspecting eye upon Gwen as she hurries home, keeping a constant check on who might be around her.
---
Freya is gone and her home is a mess. The door is closed but inside her chars are upturned, her bed pulled away from the wall and her mattress ripped open. Her cupboards are open and her possessions strewn across the floor, untidy and broken. In the back room, each and every one of the sacks has been ripped open and the contents tossed across the floor. In the forge the tools lay in an unorganised mess with coal and cloth.
“Freya?” Gwen calls out to her, searching everywhere, picking through her clothes and food and tools. But Freya was nowhere to be found. Gwen burst out of the back door and ran through the small shadow-covered passageways between the houses of the lower town. She didn’t call out for Freya, though she doubted anybody else knew her name or even cared for it.
Night closed in and Gwen ran and searched, looking everywhere. But Freya was nowhere to be found. Each time Gwen turned a corner or peered into a possible hiding place to find it empty, she felt the desperation grow and the hope of finding her unharmed slip away a little bit more.
Darkness fell over Camelot and Gwen didn’t realise she had been crying until a woman returning from The Rising Sun stopped her to ask what was wrong. But Gwen couldn’t tell her. She kept searching and searching but in the end she was forced to give up when the alarm bells signalled an attack.
Gwen returned to her home and closed the doors. Everything was still wrecked and tossed across her floor but Gwen didn’t care. She fell down upon her broken mattress and cried in sorrow and frustration and beat against her bed with her fist as the bells rang their alarms outside. In the back of her mind she remembered that Morgana would be waiting for her to return to the safety of the castle. But she didn’t move. She just thought of Freya and how she had broken her promise to help her. The loss tore through her heart and was so painful Gwen wondered if it might kill her. She sobbed and screamed into her pillows but nothing made it better.
In the end, Gwen cried herself to sleep.
---
When she woke, Gwen could still hear the sound of sobbing. Again she ached and her eyes were so sore and swollen from crying she could barely open them. But then she realised that the sobbing was not her and sat up.
There, huddled on the floor in the far corner was Freya. She was in the dress Gwen had given her the previous morning, but now it was grubby and torn. Gwen had given her some shoes as well, but Freya seemed to have lost those, for her feet were bare and cut. Her arms were wrapped across her chest and her body shook violently and she cried.
“Freya!” Gwen sprang from her bed and rushed to her. Joy mixed with concern and swirled around in a dizzying emotion. Her chest squeezed and her stomach knotted as she fell to her knees in front of Freya and threaded her fingers through her hair. She pushed it back to reveal her face and the tears which once again fell own her pale cheeks. “Oh, Freya! Thank goodness! I thought something had happened to you!”
“I... I managed to get away,” Freya explained though her tears. “Hid in some tunnels. Near the castle. But I’m sorry, Gwen. I… I’m just trouble.”
“No you’re not!” Gwen said. She too had begun to cry again. She clutched Freya’s shoulders tightly and drew her in to hold her close. As she kissed her forehead, Gwen thought she could pick up the slight taste of blood in the line of her hair.
“I am! I am!” Freya sobbed. “You must listen to me, Gwen. Those bells last night. There was another attack. More people are dead. It was me! It was all me!”
“What do you mean?” Gwen asked. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she clutched Freya tightly, rubbing one and gently up and down her back. “Freya. I don’t-“
“I’m the monster!” Freya burst out. “I’m cursed, Gwen! That’s why the druids wouldn’t help me. When night falls I turn into a monster and I hurt anybody who could have tried to be nice to me. That’s why nobody wants me. That’s why nobody should-“
“I still do!” Gwen suddenly says fiercely. Her hand goes from Freya’s back and begins to stroke through her hair. She presses their foreheads together and tells her; “there must be some way to fix this. There always is. We’ll find it, Freya. You and me. Together.”
“How?”
“We’re leaving,” Gwen suddenlydecides and the choice isn’t as painful as she often wondered it would be. “Tonight. You just need to stay hidden for one more day, Freya, that’s all. And they probably won’t come here again if they’ve already checked.”
“You can’t do that,” Freya looks up at her, shaking her head, her eyes wide. “I can’t ask you to leave everything behind for me.”
“But you didn’t ask,” Gwen tells her. “I’m offering to. Together we’ll find you help. And maybe we could come back one day. But until then I’ll go anywhere with you to help. I promised you I would Freya. I promised you that you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”
“I don’t want to be,” Freya says with a shudder in her soft fearful voice.
“You’re not,” Gwen promised. Her mouth finds Freya’s and time seems to freeze as they’re entangled together. Huddled on the floor in the corner of Gwen’s home, hair bedraggled, clothing grubby, fingers so desperately clutching. Pressed so close there’s no gap between them, able to feel each other’s heartbeats and the heat of breath against their skin.
No more about it is spoken that morning. They both know what needs to be done.
---
Once more Morgana was worried and was so glad to finally see Gwen turn up again unharmed. She knows something is wrong and asks why Gwen didn’t go back to her in the castle when the bells had begun to ring the previous night. At least two more people were dead, torn apart by an unknown monster. Gwen told her that the attack had been closer to her home so she hadn’t been able to get away as the townspeople had been ordered to stay in their home.
This time Morgana insists that Gwen will stay with her in the castle until the situation was dealt with. Gwen manages to smile and thank her and when Morgana embraces her Gwen takes in the scent of powers and perfumes that she knows she will have to savour. For who knows how long it will be before she smells it again.
The decision begins to hurt and throughout the day Gwen aches to suddenly tell Morgana everything. Morgana would help them without question and Gwen knows she would. But her disappearance would only draw attention and Gwen does not want to take her into danger. After all, she will be travelling with a cursed druid girl.
It’s something Gwen knows she will regret for the rest of her life and throughout the day the weight of her decision almost causes her top break down into tears many times. But she sticks to her resolve and her promise and the new pull of her heart. It’s brave and foolish and moving so fast. But Gwen knows that Morgana would surely do exactly the same and would never let Freya down. So Gwen wouldn’t either.
---
Its gone dark when she finally manages to slip away from Morgana, saying she’ll just get some extra blankets as it looks like it may be a cold night. True to her word, she retrieves the blankets, but gives them to another maid and asks her to deliver them. Then, once the woman is out of sight, Gwen runs. She runs through the castle, out of it, into the town and does not stop, does not look around, until she’s back inside her home.
Freya waits for her inside. Throughout the day she gathered some supplies; blankets, food and spare clothes, and even tidied the house a little bit. She wears the dress Gwen gave her and has again pulled the cloak around her shoulders. The hood is drawn up over her head and throws shadows over her eyes. But Gwen still sees the fearful and nervous look turned towards her when she closes the door.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” Gwen asks, feeling a pang of guilt. She is back later than she had expected. “I promised I would.”
“I know,” Freya nods. Then; “are you sure, Gwen? You shouldn’t leave this all for me. Not for someone who-“
“Hush now,” Gwen hurries to her and holds Freya’s head, pressing her palms lightly against the druid’s cheeks. She looked Freya right in the eye as she told her again; “I’m coming with you.”
Freya nods. Gwen draws away just to go into the forge but before she gets there Freya calls for her so she looks back around.
The look in Freya’s eyes is still so sad. And fearful. But this time with some hope and the warmness of knowing she is loved.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Gwen smiles at her and is gone into the forge for only a moment. She takes a sword and then they are gone through the back door. They keep to the shadows, always make sure the path is clear before moving on. Gwen feels her heart pound in her chest, one hand on the hilt of her weapon, the other clutching Freya’s hand. Freya keeps close to her and sometimes Gwen feels her shaking but that only strengthens the resolve to leave as soon as possible.
Somehow they slip away from Camelot. They use a path through the underground tunnels which Morgana had shown Gwen years ago, in case she should ever suddenly need to escape. As they go along through the damp and the dark, Gwen reminds herself to be sure word of their safety gets to Morgana somehow.
But first she needs to make sure they are safe. She needs to make sure Freya is safe and well and no longer in fear of her life. She will take her to the lake, where they will see the mountains and wild flowers, pick the fruit during summer and stay inside where it was warm during the winter storms.
They would go somewhere far away, where nobody knew who they were, where
nobody knew where they came from. Fields. Flowers. A small home
somewhere. By a lake.
With their hands still tightly holding each other, Gwen and Freya vanished into the night as the sound of alarm bells faded behind them.