[Fic] Burning On The Inside (Edwin; PG-13)
Author: jungle_ride
Title: Burning On The Inside
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Edwin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Edwin reminisces
Warnings (if any): Talk of burnings at the stake but it’s not really graphic
Total word count: 3,388
Original prompt number: 269 - Submitted by renrenren3
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes (if any): ENJOY!!!
Beta(s): nyargles
He stands there, rigid as a gargoyle, wrapped in a dark greyish cloak that falls to the floor grazing the stones of the courtyard. Edwin attempts to remain inconspicuous, become apart of his surroundings though the thought of being one with this place makes his stomach sick, twisting and turning like a snake with his head cut off. His hands are tucked within the bead-edged sleeves, head covered with the hood shielding his face from view. He makes no movement, standing stiffly, slightly hunched up at the shoulders; the weight of memories buckling his years of built-up hatred, anger and plots of revenge, causing his neck to slump, head ducking, eyes glancing left at the spot where the blackened hole was ripped in his chest.
The air is chilled, wind blowing icily, clouds rolling over the sky covering blue with a darkened grey. Through the cloak, Edwin feels the breeze. The coldness nips at his body but he cannot rid the feverish heat that burns on his face; nothing ever does. The air he breaths is tar, a toxic drug that induces his mind’s eye to see all that he runs from.
He can see them, his mother, Jaden. Her long soft curled fair hair, dark penetrating green eyes that stare out from behind hooded lids and dark lashes, her slender hourglass figure. He recalls the softness of her lips brushing across his cheek; how they formed a small plump heart-shaped mouth. The soothing touch of her hands holding onto his, her silky honeyed voice and voluptuous nature, her joy of life. He sees his father, Gregor, his dark shaggy black hair, the stubby beard that sprouted over the sharp angles of his jaw, the way it tickled when he kissed his forehead. Recollects his greyish blue eyes and deep rough voice, the broadness of his shoulders, the coarseness of his well worked fingers, the self assurance he oozed out of every pore.
Other memories come flooding to the foreground now, memory lanes open and ready for business. Edwin almost tastes his mother’s cooking; mouth watering in anticipation of a meal long passed. The soft, beautiful melodies she sings, the ones that make the air dance, float in waves of aches that deliciously throb within his ear. The deep tones of his father drift in next. He talks of spells, the ancient magic that flows within the earth and how to wield his growing golden spark. Then come the bedtime stories of sorcerers who ruled kingdoms. In his mind’s eye his parents became the roles of those pretend sorcerers. These imaginings were not far from the truth for together his parents had ruled; ruled the magic that was flowering within their veins doing their will and for a ‘small’ price the will of others.
He remembers the long walks in the woods collecting plants and herbs; sitting upon his father’s shoulders, so high up he thought he could touch the sky. His mother twirling and dancing, head tilted towards the sky. Their teachings of the things they collected; Blackberry Leaf (removes evil sprits), Black Snake Root (provides strength to those who are weak), Ague Weed (confusing your enemy), Vetivert (silences those who will speak ill of you).
His mother would pick flowers as well as herbs, placing tons in her hair and adorning his own blonde hair with a few despite his father’s gruff protests, “He’s not a girl!” This only prompted her to flounce up to him, snuggling into his side, kissing the sharp edges of his angled chin and slyly tangling a daisy in his rugged black hair much to his father’s dismay and Edwin’s delight. Their laughter would ring out echoing throughout the wood. The trees would swish this way and that, leaves falling gently down, tickling him as they passed down. It was if they were joining in on their joke.
Flashes of games such as 'hide and seek' and 'dad’s a monster, run away screaming' made the edges of his lips tug slightly upwards as Edwin stood in Camelot. Recalling how his father would let out a roar and start chasing them, his laughter mingling in with screams and shrieks as he hid behind trees and crawled and scurried around trying to avoid capture; his father always caught him; he was as quick as a flash, sweeping him up into his giant arms, holding him steadfast despite his playful squeals and kicks. Edwin felt a twinge, the dull ache throbbing more profoundly at the recollections. When the play was done and enough herbs had been collected they’d return home, always smiling.
Many came to his parents looking for spells. Edwin often helped his parents; he was a quick learner and even at his young age had accomplished spells others took years to master. All spells and ‘business’ were conducted in a back room; the door was always bolted shut, protected with defensive magic spells so only those who were welcome could enter. His parents soon got the reputation of their ability to conjure anything; no spell was out of reach. With a simple batter of her eyelashes, his mother could control a person’s mind so deeply that they’d willingly do whatever she desired. His father with a hardened stare could start a storm that would rage for months. United, they were unstoppable; invincible in a young pair of blue eyes.
He’d been wrong though, so very wrong; one man’s hatred and fire were the two things his parents could not overcome, despite their strength in magic. The night the soldiers had come, his mother had pulled him from bed roughly, waking him with a start. He had seen the touches of fire, heard the horses braying, the soldiers banging on the door, their harsh booming commands of “OPEN UP! YOU’RE UNDER ARRESTED FOR THE PRACTICE OF THE DARK ART OF MAGIC BY ORDER OF THE KING!”
Terror had clutched at his chest as rapidly his mother pulled his now fear stricken body out of his room and towards the back room. Edwin noticed his father casting spells, one made a wall sprout up all around, surrounding the house. Curses came from behind it. Then he rushed over glancing quickly at Jaden, then Edwin, before yanking at a chain around his neck, hurriedly putting it in the lock and opening the door. His father wrenched open a trap door, with extreme speed. It led down to a cellar. Turning him around, his mother looked into his eyes; her own were full of concern.
“Whatever happens, do not, under any circumstances, come out! Do you understand me?!”
“B…uuuu.”
“No buts son.”
His father knelt down, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Do as your mother says!”
Staring back and forth at his parents, Edwin felt the lump in his throat grow larger, swelling up like a sponge trapped in a metal pipe, ready to burst. His heart clenched, body trembled. Unable to form coherent words, he nodded his head, resigned to their will. Gruffly his father pulled him into a fierce hug, his large hand pressing hard upon the back his head, pressing him closer into the crook of his neck. Edwin clutched at his father’s shoulders, burying his face, smothering all thoughts with the comforting smell of his protector, father.
“That’s my boy!” His father’s voice was edged with quietness that made Edwin’s eyes water. Pulling back, he studied Edwin’s face intently; Edwin could see the worry, hurt, fear, doubt in his eyes and it scared him more than the noise of the soldier’s shouts, swords and their relentless bashing of the magic-made wall; this was his father, the rock, and for the first time in his life Edwin could see that cracks where showing: what was going to happen?
“I love you, you know.”
His father rarely spoke these three words consisting of eight letters; he was much more the strong, silent type. The fact he was speaking them now did nothing to soothe Edwin’s worries but it did, if even for the slightest of moments, make him smile.
“Me too.” He replied voice timid. His father grinned and kissed the top of his head; lingering much longer than usual. Then he drew back completely, standing up and ruffling his hair before turning to look at the door. Still no soldiers barged in but they were making progress on the wall. They could all hear the commotion, while clumps were beginning to fall to the ground, echoing loud thuds that sent shivers down Edwin’s spine.
“It’s not going to last much longer,” his father spoke.
Edwin looked at his mother; she turned her face away from his father and to him; water filled in her green eyes, threatening to fall down her perfect porcelain cheeks. Her lips tugged upwards in an attempted smile but the sadness in her eyes weakened it, until it was no more than a grimace. Smoothing back his hair with a tender touch, she whispered to him, voice broken.
“I love you so much Edwin! You know that right?”
Edwin nodded his head.
“I…I love you too.” His voice was shaky; droplets of water spilled from his eyes, tumbling down his cheeks, with her thumb, Jaden gently smoothed them away. Edwin collapsed against her body shaking as more and more tears fell. His mother held him close kissing at his hair, cheek, any part she could reach.
“Quickly Jaden, get him down there!” The profound sound of his father broke them from their embrace, Edwin clutched at his mother, shaking his head as she attempted to push him into the cellar.
“Let go Edwin!”
Quivering he shook his head, bottom lip trembling, fingernails digging into her skin, fingers tearing at the material of her dress.
With a forceful movement of her hands Jaden broke his grip; droplets of water had now fallen from her own eyes and onto Edwin’s finger tips. She pushed him down into the darkness of the cellar whilst saying over and over how much she loved him, how he was her brave little boy and that he was not to make a sound! Then she shut the door and disappeared from view.
It had been freezing, damp and gloomy in the cellar, where no light was offered. He heard from his hiding place the sounds of his parents’ voices casting spells over the cellar door, all protection spells, to keep him safe. Then they exited from the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Curling up into a ball on the dirt floor he rocked himself back and forth trying to slow his fast paced heartbeat; it felt like his heart was beating in this throat and quelling his terror. They were in the house now, he could hear the heavy footsteps of foreign feet reverberating on the floor boards; muffled sounds of splitting wood, breaking glass, cries of pain, shouts of orders, horses braying and snorting as the raid went on, descending unwanted into his ears. Blocking out the sounds, he pressed his hands as hard as he could over his ears. Edwin bit down on his lip so he would not scream out. Eventually, after what felt like an age, everything became quiet and he was alone.
After he finally gained the courage to exit the cellar and managed, after fifty attempts to open the door that led to the rest of the house, he dressed quickly, shoving what little edible food was left into a bag and left, determined to find his parents. He tried not to look at the state of his home, as he got ready; the place where so many wonderful memories happened was now all tainted. Blood stains covered the floor and some of the walls; he prayed it was soldiers' blood and not that of his parents. Everything was overturned, shelves broken, glass scattered over the entire floor, windows blown out and clumps of stone from the wall of protection his father had made were strewn outside the front door.
Fleeing from the site, he followed the tracks of the horses in hopes it would lead to his parents. He was terrified of what he would find; he wasn’t so naïve that he didn’t realise the danger and sinister cloud that had come to them last night, but these were his parents; he could not leave without them. It didn’t take long, the tracks were easy enough to trace but what they led too was not easy to take.
Back in the harsh wind of the present, Edwin’s heart ached, the forever weeping wound dripping blood down his chest, the droplets falling painfully to the stone slabs turning grey to red, light to dark. His surroundings changed, he witnessed a pile of wood appearing magically in the courtyard, a large stake in the middle of the heap. Strong rope hanging from the hands of a hooded man dressed in black, the reaper. Memories flood back, turning his head upside down, inside out as bile gurgles in his stomach.
There before him, he watches as the shadowy figure of his younger self comes into view, he waits with baited breath as the scene unfolds. Young Edwin looks at the piles of wood, dread building up, blood running cold. The king comes to the balcony escorted by guards. Edwin had never seen him before, heard stories and such but this was the first time he’d seen him first hand. He was nothing like the stories. His eyes were dead; there was no shimmering light like he’d been told, large bags hung underneath them. His body was erect, he stood tall, in charge, but Edwin could see the torment surrounding him, his aura, a mixture of black, deep navy blue and the deepest and most vivid reds. From his position he turned his head left. Edwin followed the harden gaze and gasped.
In a metal cage with wheels, drawn by black horses, were his parents. They were led out into the courtyard towards the stakes, seemingly in slow motion to his stunned eyes. Some people began throwing curses and food, spitting on the floor as they passed, others watched silently, heads bowed, unable to look at the sight. Jaden and Gregor’s clothes were torn up; cuts upon their faces, hands, legs and arms. His mother’s hair, always well kept and gleaming was a mess, sticking up all over the place. His father’s right eye was swollen as well as his bottom lip. They looked nothing like what he knew; instead before him was a horrific portrait from a nightmare. Despite their haggard unfamiliar appearance, one thing stood out that made it impossible for Edwin to deny that these were his parents; they stood tall within the cage, hands intertwined, meeting the eyes of all that dared to gaze at them with a look that screamed ‘what are you looking at’ and when the guards opened the cage and made to pull them out his parents shot them a dirty look, walking out on their own, heads held high.
Edwin, unable to stop himself, ran forward, squeezing past bodies, trying to make it to the front, calling out to them. They didn’t respond, unable to hear him over the noise of the crowd. Closing his eyes Edwin attempted to remember all his parents had taught him about his gift. Focusing hard on what it was he wished to achieve, he made a silent prayer to the priestess of the old religion and opened his eyes. Staring hard at his mother and father he called out with him mind.
“MUM! DAD!”
Jaden and Gregoy both jolted, looking at each other for a few moments, they then began turning their heads this way and that searching the crowd. Edwin called out again.
“MUM! DAD!”
Then all at once their eyes locked on him. Green and greyish blue started at him in unified horror.
“RUN!”
Guards took hold of his parents and yanked them apart and up towards the pile of wood, tying them to stake at either side, back to back. Edwin followed them round and worked his way to the front so that he was able to see both of them. The joint call of his parents was still ringing in his head. Although he knew he should obey them, every fibre of his being was screaming it out to him, he simply couldn’t move, couldn’t leave them.
“Edwin, leave NOW!”
That was his father.
“NOW! GO NOW! LEAVE!”
His mother’s frantic screeches echoed in his mind, making it ring uncomfortably. Both eyes looked at him frantically, heads shaking furiously; every movement made was a plea and command for him to leave.
“PLEASE!!! GO!!!”
Uther cut off their inner pleas with his own booming voice that echoed through him, making him shudder.
“These before you have confessed to practising the evil art of sorcery for such a crime I can offer only one sentence….death! LIGHT THE FIRE!”
Edwin’s heart stopped dead, his breathing becoming heavy, strained. He saw with hazed-over eyes as his parents once more screamed out to him.
“EDWIN, LEAVE!”
“PLEASE!”
“NOW!”
“GO!”
“SON, LISTEN TO US!”
But Edwin could no longer hear anything; he felt as though the floor beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole. Paralysed, he watched as the black-hooded man lifted up his lit torch, touched it and set fire to the pile of wood. The flames grew higher and higher, engulfing them slowly, painfully. His parents joined hands through the rope that bound them; this action shook Edwin out of his paralysed state. Without a rational thought in his mind he raced forward, determined to save his parents, regain the life they’d had but a day ago.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
His parents' cries of distress at his action rang out through the courtyard but Edwin ignored it, jumping up he leapt into fire, right side of his body facing the flames first.
Burning!
Pain!
Throbbing!
Screaming!
His arms flail, legs kicking, attempting to fight the flames that lick and spit on his face, ripping the skin open like a rabid dog. He floundered helplessly. The smell of burning flesh wafts into his nose, making it itch and his stomach churn. Through the orange flames, blackened smoke and blinding pain that sets of a flurry of white speckled dots before his eyes, he sees his mother’s horrified eyes staring at him, harrowed, strife and pain swelling up within them, spilling droplets as she writhes about. His father is also struggling to break free, he shouts, curses using language Edwin’s innocence has never heard. The flames are upon them now and Edwin realises the screams are not just his own. That the burning flesh he can smell is a mixture of those he loves.
Someone pulls him back and he lands with a thump on the stone ground still looking at his burning parents, listing to their screams, seeing their flesh turn from pink to red, peeling off. He shivers, shudders, shakes as each moment rips him open, tearing a piece of his heart out. He lurches throwing up, over and over, spilling his guts, emptying his once pure soul as he’s dragged away from the site.
The wind blows hard, shaking him from his memories; the images disappear like a leaf on the breeze as the hood of his cloak falls back revealing in pure daylight the scars on his face. Edwin lifts up a hand, running his fingers over the physical deformity and his eyes harden. All those years ago after Gauis had treated him, he’d finally followed his parent’s commands; he ran, ran and ran until his feet bled. He lived in solitude finding refugee with the druids and priestess of the old religion every once in a while, but did not linger with them long. He picked up more skills, practicing his magic, forever looking over his shoulder for soldiers of Uther. He’d learnt how to become invisible despite the affliction that made him stand out, learnt how to manipulate those around him, to suit his will. And all the while he nursed his hatred of Uther, drank the poison and plotted his revenge. Now finally, after years of waiting, his plan was to be put into action. Pulling up his hood, Edwin licked his lips and walked into the shadows.
Title: Burning On The Inside
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Edwin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Edwin reminisces
Warnings (if any): Talk of burnings at the stake but it’s not really graphic
Total word count: 3,388
Original prompt number: 269 - Submitted by renrenren3
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes (if any): ENJOY!!!
Beta(s): nyargles
He stands there, rigid as a gargoyle, wrapped in a dark greyish cloak that falls to the floor grazing the stones of the courtyard. Edwin attempts to remain inconspicuous, become apart of his surroundings though the thought of being one with this place makes his stomach sick, twisting and turning like a snake with his head cut off. His hands are tucked within the bead-edged sleeves, head covered with the hood shielding his face from view. He makes no movement, standing stiffly, slightly hunched up at the shoulders; the weight of memories buckling his years of built-up hatred, anger and plots of revenge, causing his neck to slump, head ducking, eyes glancing left at the spot where the blackened hole was ripped in his chest.
The air is chilled, wind blowing icily, clouds rolling over the sky covering blue with a darkened grey. Through the cloak, Edwin feels the breeze. The coldness nips at his body but he cannot rid the feverish heat that burns on his face; nothing ever does. The air he breaths is tar, a toxic drug that induces his mind’s eye to see all that he runs from.
He can see them, his mother, Jaden. Her long soft curled fair hair, dark penetrating green eyes that stare out from behind hooded lids and dark lashes, her slender hourglass figure. He recalls the softness of her lips brushing across his cheek; how they formed a small plump heart-shaped mouth. The soothing touch of her hands holding onto his, her silky honeyed voice and voluptuous nature, her joy of life. He sees his father, Gregor, his dark shaggy black hair, the stubby beard that sprouted over the sharp angles of his jaw, the way it tickled when he kissed his forehead. Recollects his greyish blue eyes and deep rough voice, the broadness of his shoulders, the coarseness of his well worked fingers, the self assurance he oozed out of every pore.
Other memories come flooding to the foreground now, memory lanes open and ready for business. Edwin almost tastes his mother’s cooking; mouth watering in anticipation of a meal long passed. The soft, beautiful melodies she sings, the ones that make the air dance, float in waves of aches that deliciously throb within his ear. The deep tones of his father drift in next. He talks of spells, the ancient magic that flows within the earth and how to wield his growing golden spark. Then come the bedtime stories of sorcerers who ruled kingdoms. In his mind’s eye his parents became the roles of those pretend sorcerers. These imaginings were not far from the truth for together his parents had ruled; ruled the magic that was flowering within their veins doing their will and for a ‘small’ price the will of others.
He remembers the long walks in the woods collecting plants and herbs; sitting upon his father’s shoulders, so high up he thought he could touch the sky. His mother twirling and dancing, head tilted towards the sky. Their teachings of the things they collected; Blackberry Leaf (removes evil sprits), Black Snake Root (provides strength to those who are weak), Ague Weed (confusing your enemy), Vetivert (silences those who will speak ill of you).
His mother would pick flowers as well as herbs, placing tons in her hair and adorning his own blonde hair with a few despite his father’s gruff protests, “He’s not a girl!” This only prompted her to flounce up to him, snuggling into his side, kissing the sharp edges of his angled chin and slyly tangling a daisy in his rugged black hair much to his father’s dismay and Edwin’s delight. Their laughter would ring out echoing throughout the wood. The trees would swish this way and that, leaves falling gently down, tickling him as they passed down. It was if they were joining in on their joke.
Flashes of games such as 'hide and seek' and 'dad’s a monster, run away screaming' made the edges of his lips tug slightly upwards as Edwin stood in Camelot. Recalling how his father would let out a roar and start chasing them, his laughter mingling in with screams and shrieks as he hid behind trees and crawled and scurried around trying to avoid capture; his father always caught him; he was as quick as a flash, sweeping him up into his giant arms, holding him steadfast despite his playful squeals and kicks. Edwin felt a twinge, the dull ache throbbing more profoundly at the recollections. When the play was done and enough herbs had been collected they’d return home, always smiling.
Many came to his parents looking for spells. Edwin often helped his parents; he was a quick learner and even at his young age had accomplished spells others took years to master. All spells and ‘business’ were conducted in a back room; the door was always bolted shut, protected with defensive magic spells so only those who were welcome could enter. His parents soon got the reputation of their ability to conjure anything; no spell was out of reach. With a simple batter of her eyelashes, his mother could control a person’s mind so deeply that they’d willingly do whatever she desired. His father with a hardened stare could start a storm that would rage for months. United, they were unstoppable; invincible in a young pair of blue eyes.
He’d been wrong though, so very wrong; one man’s hatred and fire were the two things his parents could not overcome, despite their strength in magic. The night the soldiers had come, his mother had pulled him from bed roughly, waking him with a start. He had seen the touches of fire, heard the horses braying, the soldiers banging on the door, their harsh booming commands of “OPEN UP! YOU’RE UNDER ARRESTED FOR THE PRACTICE OF THE DARK ART OF MAGIC BY ORDER OF THE KING!”
Terror had clutched at his chest as rapidly his mother pulled his now fear stricken body out of his room and towards the back room. Edwin noticed his father casting spells, one made a wall sprout up all around, surrounding the house. Curses came from behind it. Then he rushed over glancing quickly at Jaden, then Edwin, before yanking at a chain around his neck, hurriedly putting it in the lock and opening the door. His father wrenched open a trap door, with extreme speed. It led down to a cellar. Turning him around, his mother looked into his eyes; her own were full of concern.
“Whatever happens, do not, under any circumstances, come out! Do you understand me?!”
“B…uuuu.”
“No buts son.”
His father knelt down, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Do as your mother says!”
Staring back and forth at his parents, Edwin felt the lump in his throat grow larger, swelling up like a sponge trapped in a metal pipe, ready to burst. His heart clenched, body trembled. Unable to form coherent words, he nodded his head, resigned to their will. Gruffly his father pulled him into a fierce hug, his large hand pressing hard upon the back his head, pressing him closer into the crook of his neck. Edwin clutched at his father’s shoulders, burying his face, smothering all thoughts with the comforting smell of his protector, father.
“That’s my boy!” His father’s voice was edged with quietness that made Edwin’s eyes water. Pulling back, he studied Edwin’s face intently; Edwin could see the worry, hurt, fear, doubt in his eyes and it scared him more than the noise of the soldier’s shouts, swords and their relentless bashing of the magic-made wall; this was his father, the rock, and for the first time in his life Edwin could see that cracks where showing: what was going to happen?
“I love you, you know.”
His father rarely spoke these three words consisting of eight letters; he was much more the strong, silent type. The fact he was speaking them now did nothing to soothe Edwin’s worries but it did, if even for the slightest of moments, make him smile.
“Me too.” He replied voice timid. His father grinned and kissed the top of his head; lingering much longer than usual. Then he drew back completely, standing up and ruffling his hair before turning to look at the door. Still no soldiers barged in but they were making progress on the wall. They could all hear the commotion, while clumps were beginning to fall to the ground, echoing loud thuds that sent shivers down Edwin’s spine.
“It’s not going to last much longer,” his father spoke.
Edwin looked at his mother; she turned her face away from his father and to him; water filled in her green eyes, threatening to fall down her perfect porcelain cheeks. Her lips tugged upwards in an attempted smile but the sadness in her eyes weakened it, until it was no more than a grimace. Smoothing back his hair with a tender touch, she whispered to him, voice broken.
“I love you so much Edwin! You know that right?”
Edwin nodded his head.
“I…I love you too.” His voice was shaky; droplets of water spilled from his eyes, tumbling down his cheeks, with her thumb, Jaden gently smoothed them away. Edwin collapsed against her body shaking as more and more tears fell. His mother held him close kissing at his hair, cheek, any part she could reach.
“Quickly Jaden, get him down there!” The profound sound of his father broke them from their embrace, Edwin clutched at his mother, shaking his head as she attempted to push him into the cellar.
“Let go Edwin!”
Quivering he shook his head, bottom lip trembling, fingernails digging into her skin, fingers tearing at the material of her dress.
With a forceful movement of her hands Jaden broke his grip; droplets of water had now fallen from her own eyes and onto Edwin’s finger tips. She pushed him down into the darkness of the cellar whilst saying over and over how much she loved him, how he was her brave little boy and that he was not to make a sound! Then she shut the door and disappeared from view.
It had been freezing, damp and gloomy in the cellar, where no light was offered. He heard from his hiding place the sounds of his parents’ voices casting spells over the cellar door, all protection spells, to keep him safe. Then they exited from the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Curling up into a ball on the dirt floor he rocked himself back and forth trying to slow his fast paced heartbeat; it felt like his heart was beating in this throat and quelling his terror. They were in the house now, he could hear the heavy footsteps of foreign feet reverberating on the floor boards; muffled sounds of splitting wood, breaking glass, cries of pain, shouts of orders, horses braying and snorting as the raid went on, descending unwanted into his ears. Blocking out the sounds, he pressed his hands as hard as he could over his ears. Edwin bit down on his lip so he would not scream out. Eventually, after what felt like an age, everything became quiet and he was alone.
After he finally gained the courage to exit the cellar and managed, after fifty attempts to open the door that led to the rest of the house, he dressed quickly, shoving what little edible food was left into a bag and left, determined to find his parents. He tried not to look at the state of his home, as he got ready; the place where so many wonderful memories happened was now all tainted. Blood stains covered the floor and some of the walls; he prayed it was soldiers' blood and not that of his parents. Everything was overturned, shelves broken, glass scattered over the entire floor, windows blown out and clumps of stone from the wall of protection his father had made were strewn outside the front door.
Fleeing from the site, he followed the tracks of the horses in hopes it would lead to his parents. He was terrified of what he would find; he wasn’t so naïve that he didn’t realise the danger and sinister cloud that had come to them last night, but these were his parents; he could not leave without them. It didn’t take long, the tracks were easy enough to trace but what they led too was not easy to take.
Back in the harsh wind of the present, Edwin’s heart ached, the forever weeping wound dripping blood down his chest, the droplets falling painfully to the stone slabs turning grey to red, light to dark. His surroundings changed, he witnessed a pile of wood appearing magically in the courtyard, a large stake in the middle of the heap. Strong rope hanging from the hands of a hooded man dressed in black, the reaper. Memories flood back, turning his head upside down, inside out as bile gurgles in his stomach.
There before him, he watches as the shadowy figure of his younger self comes into view, he waits with baited breath as the scene unfolds. Young Edwin looks at the piles of wood, dread building up, blood running cold. The king comes to the balcony escorted by guards. Edwin had never seen him before, heard stories and such but this was the first time he’d seen him first hand. He was nothing like the stories. His eyes were dead; there was no shimmering light like he’d been told, large bags hung underneath them. His body was erect, he stood tall, in charge, but Edwin could see the torment surrounding him, his aura, a mixture of black, deep navy blue and the deepest and most vivid reds. From his position he turned his head left. Edwin followed the harden gaze and gasped.
In a metal cage with wheels, drawn by black horses, were his parents. They were led out into the courtyard towards the stakes, seemingly in slow motion to his stunned eyes. Some people began throwing curses and food, spitting on the floor as they passed, others watched silently, heads bowed, unable to look at the sight. Jaden and Gregor’s clothes were torn up; cuts upon their faces, hands, legs and arms. His mother’s hair, always well kept and gleaming was a mess, sticking up all over the place. His father’s right eye was swollen as well as his bottom lip. They looked nothing like what he knew; instead before him was a horrific portrait from a nightmare. Despite their haggard unfamiliar appearance, one thing stood out that made it impossible for Edwin to deny that these were his parents; they stood tall within the cage, hands intertwined, meeting the eyes of all that dared to gaze at them with a look that screamed ‘what are you looking at’ and when the guards opened the cage and made to pull them out his parents shot them a dirty look, walking out on their own, heads held high.
Edwin, unable to stop himself, ran forward, squeezing past bodies, trying to make it to the front, calling out to them. They didn’t respond, unable to hear him over the noise of the crowd. Closing his eyes Edwin attempted to remember all his parents had taught him about his gift. Focusing hard on what it was he wished to achieve, he made a silent prayer to the priestess of the old religion and opened his eyes. Staring hard at his mother and father he called out with him mind.
“MUM! DAD!”
Jaden and Gregoy both jolted, looking at each other for a few moments, they then began turning their heads this way and that searching the crowd. Edwin called out again.
“MUM! DAD!”
Then all at once their eyes locked on him. Green and greyish blue started at him in unified horror.
“RUN!”
Guards took hold of his parents and yanked them apart and up towards the pile of wood, tying them to stake at either side, back to back. Edwin followed them round and worked his way to the front so that he was able to see both of them. The joint call of his parents was still ringing in his head. Although he knew he should obey them, every fibre of his being was screaming it out to him, he simply couldn’t move, couldn’t leave them.
“Edwin, leave NOW!”
That was his father.
“NOW! GO NOW! LEAVE!”
His mother’s frantic screeches echoed in his mind, making it ring uncomfortably. Both eyes looked at him frantically, heads shaking furiously; every movement made was a plea and command for him to leave.
“PLEASE!!! GO!!!”
Uther cut off their inner pleas with his own booming voice that echoed through him, making him shudder.
“These before you have confessed to practising the evil art of sorcery for such a crime I can offer only one sentence….death! LIGHT THE FIRE!”
Edwin’s heart stopped dead, his breathing becoming heavy, strained. He saw with hazed-over eyes as his parents once more screamed out to him.
“EDWIN, LEAVE!”
“PLEASE!”
“NOW!”
“GO!”
“SON, LISTEN TO US!”
But Edwin could no longer hear anything; he felt as though the floor beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole. Paralysed, he watched as the black-hooded man lifted up his lit torch, touched it and set fire to the pile of wood. The flames grew higher and higher, engulfing them slowly, painfully. His parents joined hands through the rope that bound them; this action shook Edwin out of his paralysed state. Without a rational thought in his mind he raced forward, determined to save his parents, regain the life they’d had but a day ago.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
His parents' cries of distress at his action rang out through the courtyard but Edwin ignored it, jumping up he leapt into fire, right side of his body facing the flames first.
Burning!
Pain!
Throbbing!
Screaming!
His arms flail, legs kicking, attempting to fight the flames that lick and spit on his face, ripping the skin open like a rabid dog. He floundered helplessly. The smell of burning flesh wafts into his nose, making it itch and his stomach churn. Through the orange flames, blackened smoke and blinding pain that sets of a flurry of white speckled dots before his eyes, he sees his mother’s horrified eyes staring at him, harrowed, strife and pain swelling up within them, spilling droplets as she writhes about. His father is also struggling to break free, he shouts, curses using language Edwin’s innocence has never heard. The flames are upon them now and Edwin realises the screams are not just his own. That the burning flesh he can smell is a mixture of those he loves.
Someone pulls him back and he lands with a thump on the stone ground still looking at his burning parents, listing to their screams, seeing their flesh turn from pink to red, peeling off. He shivers, shudders, shakes as each moment rips him open, tearing a piece of his heart out. He lurches throwing up, over and over, spilling his guts, emptying his once pure soul as he’s dragged away from the site.
The wind blows hard, shaking him from his memories; the images disappear like a leaf on the breeze as the hood of his cloak falls back revealing in pure daylight the scars on his face. Edwin lifts up a hand, running his fingers over the physical deformity and his eyes harden. All those years ago after Gauis had treated him, he’d finally followed his parent’s commands; he ran, ran and ran until his feet bled. He lived in solitude finding refugee with the druids and priestess of the old religion every once in a while, but did not linger with them long. He picked up more skills, practicing his magic, forever looking over his shoulder for soldiers of Uther. He’d learnt how to become invisible despite the affliction that made him stand out, learnt how to manipulate those around him, to suit his will. And all the while he nursed his hatred of Uther, drank the poison and plotted his revenge. Now finally, after years of waiting, his plan was to be put into action. Pulling up his hood, Edwin licked his lips and walked into the shadows.