Richard

The sudden flurry of movement had died quickly. The real concern had been the unexpected flare of Willow's magic, something none of them had expected. They hadn't had a peep of uncontrolled magic out of her since Brendan had died and Richard and Esther shared a worried look. They had long thought that the shock of losing Branden had made her so afraid of the King that it had all but disappeared, but this was clearly not the case. What was also clear was that Willow had a level of control of it: even drugged almost into oblivion and confused she had managed to reign it in before it had become a candle in the darkness for the King. Not that they weren't grateful for it, but Richard couldn't help wondering where she had learnt that. He and Esther had forbidden its use and they didn't know of anyone that could have taught her without their knowledge.

Thinking back on the incident with Nianti, Richard reconsidered his perspective on it. He'd thought the whole affair had been instinctual, with no thought. Now he was forced to reconsider that fact. More importantly, just who had taught her to do that?

A younger man of the Betrayers quickly explained the situation, nervously trying to assuage the family's worries. It seemed the Betrayer's had miscalculated the amount of Tidsha required to keep Willow unconscious. It was a tricky thing to calculate in all fairness, her magical ability naturally sought to remove anything that left Willow vulnerable, and it was working overtime in its attempts to clear the drug from her system. Even now, the drug would likely only keep her asleep until the following day unless another dose was administered. After that, they were on their own. It could prove deadly to continue to administer after that fact.

Richard wrapped an arm around Esther comfortingly as she stared toward where Willow's broken voice had called out for her, guilt written clearly across her tear-stained cheeks.

“She's going to resent us, Love,” she murmured as Wandering Foot re-emerged from the caravan. All was silent once more as Richard gently squeezed her waist.

“We can only do what we think is best. If she lives because of this deception, I will gladly allow her to hate us.”

Esther nodded, slowly. “I know, I know,” she grimaced. “It was easier to agree to this when it was not happening. When she finds out the extent of our lies... she will not be happy. Both Wandering Foot and Edward are in for a surprise, I think. I had never seen such anger in her as I did that night.”

Before Richard could respond Wandering Foot joined them. Richard knew that he, perhaps even more so than his wife, was conflicted about this entire operation. He felt keenly the loss of choice foisted onto his shoulders by his forefather in his choice to join the King. All the Betrayer's shared this resentment, although they were content in a way with the traveller's lifestyle as an alternative. If they knew of the deceptions Kane had ordered him to fabricate the anger would be boundless. Richard knew that information would come out as soon as Willow was comfortable enough to talk but they hadn't been able to find a way to get the results they wanted with honesty.

Wandering Foot was only an associate of the Resistance and so he felt conflicted. He could see both sides of the argument. He could see a young woman, with a future she had chosen for herself and was grasping onto it with both hands, but he could also see the danger the prophecy presented. He could see the love this action came from. He also knew of the book Willow possessed. He understood that without her this entire operation, the risks he had put his people through throughout the years since he had taken over as leader, were all for nought. As a Leader, there were many decisions on his head.

“The men grow restless. I fear they may begin to second guess this choice if we do not leave soon. This is not an absolute rule, you know,” Wandering Foot stated, face blank, although Richard knew the man well enough to catch a glimpse of his disquiet, hidden deep within his eyes. He could not allow his people to see this hesitancy though if they did, they may very well revolt and this entire set up, days of preparation and convincing would be lost.

Richard nodded, gently taking Esther's hand, and indicating Siobhan forward from where she had been hiding in the shadows. Siobhan had been against the plan from the beginning, being the loudest voice of descent in the entire Resistance.

Her arguments had made others uncomfortable, many not willing to acknowledge that they were essential 'sending her into enforced servitude,' in Siobhan's words. She had been expelled from the discussions.

This had not stopped her protests and she had been forcefully reminding anyone who would listen that they'd had the choice to do the Resistance's bidding, to become a part of the Resistance, what choice was Willow being given?

Richard suspected strongly that Siobhan's actions were motivated by jealousy and trying to hide it by acting as Willow's champion. Ever since Brendan's death, she had grown reckless, desperate to avenge his death at the hands of The Kings Guard, while growing increasingly dismissive toward Willow. Even now, almost twelve years later Siobhan still was filled with the same anger at Brendan's loss, refusing to move on while The King continued to rule. Richard could understand this burning desire for revenge, he too had lost much in his life because of The King. Now, he had claimed Willow in some ways, although regardless of the anger Willow was sure to hold against him, he was grateful that she at least left him alive.

He tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that nagged at him to remember just what the task he was sending her to do was: destroy the King.

This had proven no easy task for the Resistance, a semi-organised group of individuals with the sole goal of the King's destruction, and had as of yet, failed to put any real dent into his reign. Richard chose to ignore the voice of reason that tried to remind him that they were all willing, ready, and capable of doing anything within their power to be as large a thorn for the King as possible.

Willow was perfectly capable, Richard had no doubt of that fact, he had seen to that himself. He knew she'd hated the enforced sword training, but it had been done for her own good. If she was to have any chance of fulfilling her destiny, she would need those skills.

The problem was her willingness and readiness. Just days before it had been decided she was not ready for this task, only for the prophecy to force their hand. Her willingness was a whole other thing. Considering the necessity of kidnapping, Richard wondered just what he had gotten the Southern Resistance Leader into with his daughter. As Esther had stated, he had never expected Willow capable of the explosive anger he had witnessed mere days before. Before that incident, he would have described her only as a mild-mannered lady, devotedly loyal to her family.

Richard, in an attempt to be fair, did acknowledge that he had never asked something so extreme of her. When he had gone to his leader, angry and frustrated with his daughter's behaviour it had been Kane who had managed to translate his daughter's actions in a way Richard could understand. It hadn't changed anything that decision had to be made for Willow's safety even if she refused to make the right decision herself. But it had been useful to understand where she stood and why. Richard had been shocked at the time - it wasn't like he'd asked her to march to The Kings Door! - he'd had time to mull it over since and come to understand that he had perhaps not phrased it in a way that would have been favourably received.

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This was proving problematic for Richard however, because it had also given him time to process and recognise how his actions would be viewed by Willow. He planned to send a note to Edward, to give to Willow explaining his true intent. He had no way of knowing if she would even believe him at that point, but he had to try. She would be suspicious of anything they gave her for a time and all he could do was hope she would be rational enough to give his words their due diligence.

Esther had climbed into the back of the caravan and was gently smoothing out Willow's hair, dirt trickling out in a steady stream. Willow was so particular about how she looked that it was almost disturbing to see her in this state of dishevelment, hair awry and dirt smudging her face and hands. Richard deliberately didn't look at her shoulder, to the circle of dried blood that had stained her shoulder. Wandering Foot had explained that she had fought back viciously and several of the men sent for Willow supported fresh scratches to their faces, deeper than one might expect. The man who had initially grabbed Willow had a broken nose and split lip from where she had thrown her body back against her attacker, the combination of force and hairpins doing the rest. This body slam had been the cause of the nasty gash in her shoulder. The man's armour had caught there, and he had begged Richard's forgiveness, irrespective of the fact that it had been an accident.

Richard gave Siobhan a hand up as she climbed in beside Willow, immediately pulling her handkerchief from her pocket to cool Willow's feverish brow. It was clear that she did not sleep peacefully, her magical ability still fighting to purge her body of the unwelcome neutraliser.

This had been the safest option, considering Willow had not stayed for a meal with the family that morning. There had been no way to slip her the drug orally. It was also why she had been under-dosed; it was far easier to overdose a person if inhaled rather than consumed. It would be difficult to give her more in the coming days, the risk of overdosing growing with each dose. She'd had two small doses in the last five hours alone. They would have to find ways to give it to her orally.

“It is disturbing to see her like this,” Siobhan stated. “Are you sure she is going to be alright? I thought Knockout was a sedative given to the sick! She should not be so feverish after so little” Siobhan's eyes narrowed as she noticed the blood seeping into Willow's dress. She leant forward and untied just enough of the side-lacing to inspect the wound.

It was a small wound, but deep. Siobhan just shook her head and pressed the damp handkerchief to it firmly, stopping the last of the blood flow.

“This is wrong,” She whispered, eyes still trained on the wound, eyes roaming over the slight abrasions on Willow's knuckles, the hangnails, and the dirt smudges on her dress, dark against the grey. “Either they let her fall, or she put up one hell of a fight,” She added.

Wandering Foot reappeared. “She put up a fight. Barely conscious might I add. I doubt she will even remember that she did fight. It was purely instinct. We're lucky she is unused to relying on magic or we would have been shattered into a bloody mess.”

Siobhan smiled a little, “She is my sister. I would not have taken this without a fight. Just because she appears softer does not mean she does not know how to defend herself. You should have seen her before the world seemed to weigh her down....” Siobhan shook her head, rather like a dog clearing its ears.

“It matters little,” She turned abruptly and exited the caravan with a quick, sorrowful look in Willow's direct. As she stepped down, she ignored both Richard's and Wandering Foot's offer for aid and she made to disappear but seemed to change her mind midway and instead turned to glare at Richard.

“I had hoped to make amends with her before she departed. If these foolish actions of yours prevent that reconciliation, she is not the only woman you will find yourself strained with.”

Richard raised a bushy eyebrow, “You have never seen eye to eye with Willow. Nor have I seen you even attempting to make reparations with Willow. Your mother and I thought you disliked her.”

Siobhan shrugged. “She's so much like Brendan and yet so completely different. I wonder if he had lived how different she would have been.” Siobhan shrugged.

Richard suspected there was more to this and indicated as such to Siobhan. Esther joined them and Wandering Foot moved forward to shake Richard's hand.

“Take care of her, my friend. I look forward to your next visit,” Richard nodded in farewell. Wandering Foot nodded quickly before he turned and moved away.

The small family stood for a time, watching the caravan’s trundle away, the people milling around beside it, guiding both horses and wheels until all the family could see was the faint glow of the lanterns illuminating the Betrayer's path.

Siobhan turned to Richard and Esther.

“If I had been there for Willow, if I had tried to pick up the slack after Brendan's death, who could Willow have been then? She was such a bright soul before he was taken. Everyone thought she would make an excellent addition to the Resistance. By the time I resurfaced from the grief, she was older, and like she is now: afraid of the King, afraid of people. She feared me. It didn't occur to me at the time that it was defensive.’

“Brendan was her sun and moon; they were incredibly close. She witnessed his capture, and she was struggling to understand and make sense of all of that, and I disappeared on her. She had already lost someone so especially important and then immediately after Willow, a child, lost me too.” Siobhan shrugged. “I should have tried to make things up with her years ago but here we are. She's an adult now, with her own views and opinions. She doesn't need me anymore.”

Esther pulled Siobhan into a tight hug, tears spilling over.

Richard placed a hand on each of the woman's shoulders, troubled. He and Esther had been there for Willow during that loss. More so Esther then he, in all honesty. She had been unwilling to let another man into her inner circle so soon after Brendan's lost. Had he even tried to get into that circle after the rawness of Brendan's loss had been dulled some? Was he as bad as Siobhan when it came to understanding Willow?

Gently, he herded the two women into the house. Esther escorted Siobhan to bed while Richard turned into his own bedroom and began to pace.

He paused when Esther gently placed her hand against his shoulder, a grim smile twisting her features.

“You and I know she couldn’t have stayed and continued to live.” He couldn’t help the pleading tone that entered his voice as he spoke.

Esther nodded. “We know that. But Willow doesn’t. And we didn’t explain it to her well either. All she will see is a choice she made that we ignored. She may never forgive us. She will wake up tomorrow, her last memory being of her walking to Jay-jays.”

Richard nodded. “She may not have noticed, but the hangings are getting more frequent every year. They have captured so many of our members in the last few years, more than ever before, if the records are to be trusted.”

“We must have a snitch amongst us.” This had been a topic of debate for years within the Resistance. How else had the King suddenly been able to find so many of them, compared to other years?

Thinking of the Resistance reminded Richard of Dickson’s loss and he was momentarily winded by the loss, clutching his wife to his chest while he tried to get the emotion back under control. Esther stroked his chest gently, murmuring comforts to him while he forced his lungs to expand.

With a sigh, Richard collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

“It's really only a matter of time until we are found out,” Esther murmured, leaning on Richard's broad shoulder, not mournful, just stating a fact they had stated many times before.

Richard agreed. “I thought Willow would be safe though. She set up her own betrothal. She was supposed to marry in four seasons. But now it wouldn’t be soon enough. One Lieutenant or another is in town almost at all times. The last visit was a damn month and the sheer number of Guards in the city is ridiculous and growing. It grows more and more dangerous by the hour. And those fucking birds! I swear they're at least four times the number there was two years ago!”

Esther nodded again. “To be safe from our choices, she must both marry and bear a child. It's been growing harder and harder to fall pregnant. There's just not enough food for everyone to go round. We do alright because we grow it, and we still don't have enough! Willow has spoken to me of it, she's noticing more stillborn and labour sickness. She says it's only gotten worse since she started practising too, although the woman she learnt from confided to her that it had been rising in her day too.”

Richard nodded. “I defer to your knowledge on such things. Add in Nianti’s prophecy and I feel we made the best possible choice. The facts remain the same: We did what we had to keep Willow safe.” Richard stretched out, Esther still in his arms, and pulled the covers over them.

Esther nodded slowly, eyes red and puffy. “I will take her hatred if it means she will live.”

They lay together, taking comfort in each other deep into the night, falling into a fitful sleep sometime before dawn.