Willow

For the first three weeks, Willow refused to leave her quarters, preferring for Agnes to bring fresh ingredients and tea to her rooms. This was a level of comfort Willow was unused to but, not having access to a larder or food storage of any kind, she had little choice but to allow Agnes to wait on her in this regard.

During this time, Agnes had been a calming, protective presence. She hadn't needled for any information, although Willow knew she had seen the faded bruising on her body when she helped to bathe Willow and she must have noticed that Willow favoured an ankle and wrist, let alone the horrendous scars forming around her ankles and wrists. Her breathing was still shallow, there was no way Agnes could have missed theses obvious signs of injury and trauma. And yet she didn't ask, although she was clearly concerned and for that Willow was grateful. She was not willing to trust these people yet and was still trying to process the many changes she had been forced upon her.

Another restriction she found debilitating is that she had trouble with being inside with the curtains and windows closed. This was particularly frustrating as the cold had set in during her stay with the Healer and she didn’t have the kinds of warm clothes need for such a bitter winter. Yet, Willow found herself panicking, as if the walls were shrinking in on her. She relied on Agnes to get her clothes and blankets from the closets because she couldn't face going into them. It was frustrating but she hadn't a clue how to fix the problem, so she did her best to cover it up and move on with her life. Again, there was no way Agnes hadn't noticed her odd behaviours but was either too well-mannered or too kind-hearted to bring it up or ask.

As time passed however, she grew tired of being cooped up and no number of windows open could prevent her need to be out in the fresh air. It might have had something to do with the heavy woollen cloak that had suddenly appeared on her sofa but suddenly the months spent like that had become stifling. When she did finally decide to leave her rooms, she always made sure Agnes was available to accompany her, too afraid of getting lost and unable to find her way back to her rooms.

The compound was pretty in its own way. While the majority of the outside was well-worn dirt, someone had made the effort to plant gardens along the edges wherever possible, although they lay dead this time of year. The buildings were all made of exposed wood, made darker by the sealant painted over it. Even with this, Willow noticed the general signs of wear and tear and the heavy matting of the roofs was in desperate need of repair, brown and moulded from exposure and rain.

Agnes was a wealth of knowledge, and she was happy to fill Willow in on the general history of the compound, its previous uses and how the resistance had come to utilise the space for their own needs. Willow' forays outside her own rooms would have been pleasant trips if it wasn't for the general unrest the population of the compound exuded.

The looks, glares, and snide comments of the people she met would quickly send her retreating to her rooms again. However short, these forays out into the world did help however and she slowly found it easier to spend time indoors unhampered if she spent a little time outside.

The people's attitude grew bolder as she appeared more frequently in the open and those, she held short conversations with managed to turn it toward the subject of the Bearers and the King, looking to dig into her choices and pull them apart. Many hoped they would be the one to finally convince her she was acting like a spoilt child. All left disappointed. She cared little for the opinions of strangers and whenever the topic did come up, she would frequently make excuses and leave abruptly. If they tried to override her excuses, she would just hold a hand up and depart anyway.

It continued to escalated overtime. She had people stopping her and Agnes as they walked anywhere, they were often ambushed by the young and stupid. The elders were far more likely to treat her like a child, shocked when she had a rational answer for every rebuttal they gave her. Willow revealed little in these short exchanges, revealing just enough to have people leave her alone and she knew it couldn't last.

A few altercations had turned physical, especially with young, newly married and those who had recently had children, but Willow was no push over and quickly dodged any attempts to force her. She never hurt anyone, but she did make fools of them and quite often they would depart first, licking bruised prides.

However, as weeks passed into her second month, the unrest settled and while the discontented stares continued, the people resigned themselves to Willow's stubbornness. They could not deny that she had valid reasons for her reluctance, no matter how much they wished to deny such things. It was a dangerous task and, unlike many in the compound, she'd been given no choice. It was this realisation that had worked best in Willow's favour, when she had been confronted by a young mother, son strapped to her back and daughter clinging to her skirts.

The woman had been viscous in her verbal assault and Willow had been hurt by her words. However, she understood that, at the heart of it, the woman was just afraid for her new son. She had been shocked at Willow's gentleness when she had crouched to reassure her daughter that all was fine with a gently smile.

“Would you be able to do to your daughter what has been done to me?” Willow asked, looking up into the surprised woman's face. “If she decided, as an adult, that this life, this constant fighting and fearing, was not worth it. If all she wanted was to make her peace with this world, for the safety of all the people she loved, would you force her? Would you have her torn against her will from her home, pressured and beaten into submission somewhere where she had no friends, no allies?” Willow delicately fingered the growing scar tissue around her wrist. She’d had never been public with her wounds but felt the weight of the woman's gaze as her fingers displayed the gruesome reminder of what Willow had been through.

The woman had been forced to pause at Willow's words, the shock of the gruesome scars still forming stealing any angry words she still might have. She struggled for a moment, knowing now that if she claimed she would never, she would make herself out as a hypocrite. She was unable to even lie about such things as she looked into her daughter’s eyes. The woman took a steadying breath, anger leaving her mind, clearing it enough to admit that her anger had been ill placed.

Willow hadn't forced the woman to answer however, simply turning to the child with another smile toward the woman.

“Has mummy eaten today?” She asked kindly.

The girl looked to her mother before saying. “She didn't eat at breakfast. I thought breakfast was important, but Mama said she didn't need it?”

Willow smiled, “Well then, let's take Mama to get some food. Are you hungry?”

And like that the argument ended as Willow gently guided the young woman and her children to the mess hall.

It was a wide, open building and the food was served buffet style. The smells made her mouth water and her stomach grumble. She had only just started utilising the space, but never had she been without Agnes' or Jonathon's comforting presences. Ignoring the stares, Willow led the woman forward to join the line to get food, happily chatting with the daughter. Slowly the mother had thawed and occasionally interjected, pointing out some of the influential people within the compound.

As they ate, the mother seemed to warm to her and began to ask about the Eastern Capital, curious about the city she had never dreamed of seeing for herself. Willow happily indulged her, and they found it a pleasant way to spend an hour. Willow resolved to eat lunch in the hall more often. Perhaps there were other people here willing to overlook her unwillingness to join their blind faith if given the chance.

With a smile, Willow elected to return to her room after, still uncomfortable with the many eyes curiously studying her. But, she reflected, it had been a productive day. Willow had discussed teaching the child, named Anne, her letters, and numbers. The mother had been hesitant at first but seemed convinced when Willow explained that it was something she had done at home, and it would bring her great comfort to do something familiar in this strange, new place.

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They had agreed on a time for her to bring Anne to Willow's rooms and then separated. Willow was sure that the rumour mill would be working double time once they got a hold of her.

Willow would soon come to learn that by giving a little herself, the compound would respond. After the midday meal, which Willow had chosen to permanently take in the Mess Hall, Willow had taken to helping the men and woman who provided food and drink to the people in the compound. They had seemed surprised by her willingness to help so readily, although when Willow explained that such luxuries as an army of kitchen staff were just as unusual to her, they seemed to relax a little

They were friendly enough, although a little standoffish at first, not entirely sure what to make of her. They were, perhaps expecting something more akin to the Resistance Leaders son, Felix, whom Willow'd had met only a few short days after eating in the hall. Felix was a pampered boy nearing fourteen with an attitude to match. As the Leader's son, he enjoyed a place of pride and Willow gathered that Edward allowed him to run wild and unchecked as he pleased.

Willow kept mostly to herself for the first bit, silently assisting wherever she saw she could. She didn’t force the staff to interact with her, just made herself available and friendly. Eventually, they warmed to her, impressed by both her work ethic and her willingness to help. Many were also impressed with how she handled Felix.

Being an unwilling member of the compound, she saw little reason to indulge the child. He had no title and no standing as far as she could tell. She showed little in the way of deference to his father, why should she to the son? Felix too had been shocked by her attitude and Willow suspected there were very few people here who had ever refused him anything and she doubted anyone had pulled him up on his poor behaviour.

Willow had caught him attempting to start food fights in the Hall and seemed beyond shocked when she had grabbed his wrist, preventing that first throw. The fury in his eyes had done nothing to quell her.

When he had screeched about telling his father she had merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come along then. Let's go tell him now, shall we?” Felix had paled but, unable to escape Willow's vice like grip, had been forced to follow along angrily.

Willow had knocked, then barged her way into Edward's office. He, to his credit, only looked surprised as Willow turned to Felix.

“Go on. Tell on me,” She encouraged.

Felix shook his head.

“What is the meaning of this Willow. What are you doing with my son?” Edward demanded, growing protective of his only child.

Willow stared him down, steadfast in her conviction. “Your son was about to start a food fight in the Mess Hall. I thought such resources were limited; I know the wintertime is the hardest time for food but if I was mistaken...?”

Edward sat down heavily and stared at Felix. “Willow was right to stop you, Felix. We barely manage to smuggle in enough food as it is. Winter is not the time for wasting food, am I understood?”

Felix nodded at the floor, hiding his embarrassed anger.

“If I hear of another complaint Felix, I will add to your chores.” Edward dismissed them.

Willow bobbed a curtsy and, without a look back made her way back to lunch.

The stares had intensified as she re-entered the space, but Willow took little notice.

After, when she was helping clean up, several of the workers thanked her.

Willow couldn't help asking, “Why does no one else stop him?”

“No one dares,” Agnes interjected. “Edward is very protective of the boy and any claim against him his usually met with anger. How did you survive?” several of the staff looked up, curious as to the answer themselves.

“You forget Agnes,” Willow smiled. “I am not one of his underlings to order about. I have made that very clear. I am all but a prisoner here and he feels guilty for his hand in this. I am, you could say, immune. Besides, he and this compound need me. He thinks by being nice I will change my mind.” Willow shrugged and returned to her self-appointed duties.

Felix learnt quickly that if Willow caught him misbehaving, he would find himself before his father. Willow even overheard through the rumour mill that Felix had demanded Edward expel Willow from the compound.

Willow had laughed at this. As much as Felix hated it, Willow was his father's responsibility now. She was also the child of an influential Eastern Resistance member; if any harm came to her, they would very likely lose that branch of information. Edward couldn't risk that.

This small action seemed to endear her to Edward though, winning back some of his good opinion by standing up as no one else did and the following day she found Felix reluctantly lining up with the growing number of children joining her class. He made it very clear from day one he didn’t want to be there and only showed up because his father forced him.

There were only around twenty children within the compound of varying ages. Amongst her students was Felix, who clearly didn’t want to participate but was being forced to be his father. Before Willow there had been no system for formal education, such things being left to individual parents. However, given how busy they were trying to survive, education had not been made a priority.

Of her older students, only Felix could read and write with any skill although he had little more than the knowledge of his letters and basic words. Much of Willow’s time was dedicated to correcting shaky handwriting; the slate and chalk was not the easiest way to learn but ink and vellum was too costly for learning. Most of the children responded well to Willow’s firm but kind demeanour.

Except Felix.

Felix seemed determined to cause as much disruption as humanly possible. All of Willow’s usual tactics failed in the face of his antics and she was hesitant to continuously bring his father into it. She understood that Felix was spoilt by his father in his attempt to make up for his lack of mother figure, as well as his own absence. The child of a leader was forced to accept that their parent must dedicate time to the organisation. Felix’s behaviour was a result of this: not enough attention at home.

Understanding this pushed Willow to be more tolerant of his behaviour. This also seemed to frustrate him further, but he never cracked Willow’s kind demeanour. As winter passed, he finally submitted and settled into the routine. Outside of the classroom, Willow still received snide remarks, her continued refusal to find the Bearer a contentious power struggle. The old began to be her greatest enemy, they’re age lending them a sense of both entitlement and indignant toward Willow. They fluctuated wildly between berating Willow for her perceived ignorance and lack of care for others and preaching to her about they’re ideology. Willow took it all in stride. It earned her the begrudging respect at the grace she displayed in the face of repeated attacks.

She learned to find joy in teaching the children and having earned the parents trust she slowly began to take them out on little excursions furthering their more practical education. In this time, she taught them everything she knew about the world around them, from the seasons to farming.

Willow knew these subjects were not the most interesting for small children and often she had a hard time maintaining their attention. However, given the current climate, added to the location they grew up in, they would become workers of menial tasks or soldiers. Willow had been reassured that all members of the resistance were willing participants and she hoped to show these children that becoming a soldier was not the only option.

In the long term it was perhaps a useless task, but Willow couldn’t help but hope that she might save even one life.

Finally, winter began to recede, and Willow’s excursions grew in number. Even Felix seemed to be warming up to her. Still, he played hot and cold with her, some days he was as disruptive and dismissive as ever. But a growing number of days he was all but her shadow, offering to carry her things or fetch her food. It both warmed and broke Willow’s heart to watch his clumsy attempts and not for the first time Willow wondered what the boy’s younger years were like.

It was clear that he’d had no mother figure in his life; perhaps his father had not allowed it, perhaps it had been unconsciously done. Either way it was clear to Willow that the boy had been watching other boys with their mothers and was imitating the behaviour he had witnessed. Willow thought it sweet but wasn’t sure how to treat the situation.

To thirteen-year-old Felix she must seem a big grown-up but Willow herself was only a few weeks shy of her twenty-first birthday, only an eight-year difference. Willow was not bragging when she acknowledged that she perhaps reacted to some situations better than most twenty-year-old were assumed to be able, but then that could be said of most people her age. When you grew up the way she and her peers had you didn’t get to stay a child long. You grew up young, you married young, you died young. With how frequently the healers were put to death, most people died before their sixtieth year. There was just no time for childhood.

Being that as it may, Willow chose to treat Felix as she would any of her other students: with compassion. Willow felt her job as a teacher was not only the education of these young people but to help explain to the child why they might feel gaps with their parents. It was in Willow's experience that parents struggled to explain this to children and often they grew defensive if it was brought up, seeing it as an attack on their parenting skills. This was of course not Willow intent, she only tried to encourage parents to be open and honest with their children.

Felix seemed to benefit greatly from this method, and he was soon settling into her classes without so much as a peep in the wrong direction.