As she pulled the door open, she relaxed, grateful that the nausea of the past few days had passed. She'd been feeling weak and sickly for a week and had barely managed to get out of bed that morning for the execution. She shook her head to clear it. 'The shock of the execution must have forced it away,' She mused as she closed the door.
“Mother, I'm ho...” Willow called out as she stripped off, hanging her coat besides her sister, Siobhan's tattered dirty one. She turned to enter the room before abruptly stopping dead in her tracks.
There, in her father's chair, sat a heavily bandaged elf, firelight glistening of freshly washed sage green hair. Wide eyes turned to her, startled by her entry, seeming tense and afraid.
“Willow, I'd like you to meet Nianti. She's going to be staying with us while she recovers,” Richard introduced, a note of warning in his narrowed eyes and sharp tone as he tried to sooth the elf's fears. He was a tall man, made burly and broad by intense farm-work. He was not the kind of owner that delegated, he had always enjoyed working with his own hands. Willow rarely saw him outside of meal times and had the distinct impression that he was disappointed in her.
“Are you insane?” Willow demanded, turning to her parents, Esther having entered the room when she called out, metal ladle dripping that night's dinner onto the carpet.
“It's just for a few days. Elves heal fast,” Richard attempted to console, reaching out a wide hand in an attempt to calm. “How could I turn away a body in desperate need?”
“That's not the point!” Willow countered, voice dropping into a whisper as her eyes darting between the elf, the door, and the windows, thankfully covered by thick, woollen drapes. “We just watched our neighbours die for this! Why would you bring this to our home? Why would you risk us like this!?”
“She is helping the Resistance, Willow. With Dickson gone she had nowhere else to go.” Richard argued, beginning to grow annoyed. “You would not have me throw out an injured person, would you?”
The mention of the Resistance gave Willow pause. “Why us? Surely there is someone better suited!?”
However, at the guilty look Esther gave her, the pieces soon fell together, and the sting of the accusation got the better of her. “So, you would offer your own family up to take Dickson’s place? Offer us all up to be next in line for the rope!? Do you care for us so little!?”
Richard's eyes narrowed. “This is not up for further debate, am I clear?”
Willow shut her mouth and moved to set the table, giving Nianti a wide berth as best she could. The nausea of the last week returning abruptly. Willow gingerly sipped a glass of water in the hopes that it would help but found it only agitated the situation. Willow sighed heavily. Her time of the month was due, and Willow chalked the illness up to those symptoms before roughly shoving it aside, not prepared to deal with that problem on top of the trouble currently sitting in her lounge room.
When dinner was served, Willow avoided being too close to Nianti, terrified that somehow The King would find out she'd had even minute contact with someone so very forbidden. The fear of retribution was strong, and it prevented Willow from doing more than look down at her food, refusing to acknowledge the dangerous interloper. The large bowl of steaming stew teasing her with its scent, her roiling stomach making her feel sicker with every mouthful she forced herself to take. She resolutely ignored Richard’s angry gaze.
Siobhan had no such inhibitions and chatted to her as if Nianti were a regular guest. Siobhan was not the type of person who immediately took to someone, tending toward suspicion rather than friendliness. It appeared to Willow that Siobhan and Nianti already knew each other quite well and not for the first time Willow wondered what Siobhan and her group of friends had gotten themselves into. Willow had suspected for some time that Siobhan had joined up with the Resistance. Siobhan had known Brendan far better, being closer in age to him then Willow. She knew that to a degree Siobhan was still angry and, rightfully, blamed the King for his death and actively sought revenge. When she had been younger, Willow had idolised them, seeing their delinquent behaviour as something big and grown up. As she had grown and lost people, however, this almost hero-worship attitude had faded in the face of reality: those who rebelled died and dragged their entire families right along with them. But Siobhan had always been impulsive when angry. Willow couldn't find a justification for joining up, regardless of how angry. Willow was just grateful that her upcoming marriage would separate her from the whole affair.
Nianti herself was nothing remarkable for an elf Willow supposed, if the one at the hanging was what could be considered typical. She appeared equally as tall and graceful, speaking in a calm, lilting tone that indicated more years than her young appearance betrayed. From the few glimpses Willow stole however, she concluded that, although unmarred by the ravages of time, her eyes spoke of the century's worth of horror she had witnessed. Those horrors Willow had some knowledge of. The King often had such stories retold during celebrations. Willow had always presumed they were told as a warning and had taken them as such: Never defy the King or look what he can do to you and all you love. Look at this power and destruction. It was effortless.
After dinner, Willow and Siobhan cleared the table while Esther, Richard and Nianti sat in the lounge room. Siobhan found a way to excuse herself quickly and happily joined them. The group chatted away happily, ignoring Willow's reluctance and uncomfortable glances.
Watching the group in growing horror. Siobhan she could see joining the Resistance, but never had she thought that her parents could be so reckless to endanger all their lives by joining. Calm and collected Esther and Richard didn't seem like the kind of people to needlessly endanger the innocent in a revenge plot that would almost certainly fail as terribly as every other attempt at resistance had.
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But as she watched how comfortable all three of them were with Nianti, her suspicions grew and seemed confirmed. Was her whole family in the Resistance and hiding it from her? For how long had she been kept in the dark?
Willow wasn't paying attention to their murmured conversation, too busy mulling over this new revelation. She did hear her name in conjunction with some sort of journey. This was quickly shushed, and Willow felt the furtive gazes burn into her shoulders as she bent to stock the fire. Willow presumed they were talking of her upcoming marriage but then why would they hush the conversation? She scoffed. It was still a year away, they had plenty of time to plan, why did they think she was panicking over such a thing? Why would the elf care about such things anyway? It had nothing to do with her!
Willow went directly to her room after the table was cleared, too fearful of the repercussions to interact with her family. As she closed the door she caught her father's disapproval, angry at her attitude. This served only to irritate Willow further, how dare he be surly with her when it was his decisions putting them all at risk! In what world was it safe to flaunt the rules in such a way!? With a frustrated growl, she snapped her door shut, locking out her traitorous family and locking in the internal fear that the King's Guard was waiting outside their door.
#
The following day was not enough time for Willow's anger to dissipate and as she dressed and went in search of breakfast, she was further enraged to find Nianti still in residence. Nausea had made itself a constant presence, bubbling sluggishly, although she chose to eat regardless.
Willow chose to grab an apple, the intent being to get as far from the house as possible as soon as possible. She refused to contribute to the endangerment of the family. She was not going to let the family burn without a damn good fight. She closed the door with a displeased snap, ignoring the daggers being shot at her retreating back. Willow had no specific business in town that morning but found it better than being at home, so chose to wander without purpose.
She stopped in to deliver some food to both Bea and Olivia. Both were not up for company but were grateful for the assistance.
After the brief conversation, Willow made to return to the market stalls, but was waylaid by a man with a knife. After handing her bag over and rectifying her clothes, she chatted happily with stall-owners as she perused the various stores. Most she had known her whole life, had run with their children as a child herself or acted as a teacher for them. She was perusing the fabric stall, chatting pleasantly with a handsome woman two years older than her, when a sudden, fearful hush fell over the area and a wave of people began crowding the side of the road, unwilling to be caught in the centre. Willow was knocked into the stall and immediately felt a bruise forming.
Sharing a concerned look with the owner, Willow stood up on her toes, using the stall for balance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the problem. Willow quickly recoiled at what she saw. A little further up the road, the fluttering of the King's flags could be seen, a heavy bloodstained red with four, thick black lines down the centre, cheerily waving in the wind as it was held up and followed by a sombre battalion of the King's Guard. It was not the soldiers this time that had brought the marketplace to a halt; in front of the battalion, was the Lieutenant.
He was a tall, wiry sort of man and Willow thought that if he were perhaps a better man, he might have been handsome. He had clearly been human once and perhaps in some ways still was under the hate if his features were anything to base that off of. The King's general hatred of the other races lent toward the human belief amongst the people, at least those who dared gossip about the Lieutenants.
This humanness was in part what made him and his ilk so terrifying to the populace – they appeared as humans and if these humans could fall to such madness, then so could they. It was an unsettling thought.
He towered over most people with hard black eyes and a grim set mouth. His nose was hooked, and Willow had always thought his face looked a little too small to accommodate it adequately. He had thick, jaw length hair that appeared either heavily styled or unwashed pulled into a low ponytail. It melded into an equally limp and greasy beard, curling tightly just off the chin.
As he stood now, the great evils he had chosen to perform in the name of the King had left their mark on his features, in pockmarks and unnatural dips and scarring. One of his eyes Willow believed he may not even have been able to see out of, so hellish the scarring was there. He could use magic also, although he rarely displayed such feats. Willow had only seen him use it once, a bolt of lightning aimed at a child that had stumbled too close around four summers back. He and the other three Lieutenants were the only ones permitted to use magic. All were equally feared. This one was perhaps the only one Willow had seen with any frequency, however. All four of them were terrifying in their way, each were extremely magically gifted and each ruthless. They were also the only members of the King's guard whose faces remained uncovered, perhaps to continue the fear of their humanness that many held.
It was why the people had parted to allow the procession through unimpeded, too afraid of the ruthless nature of the Lieutenant. His eyes roved over the crowd and when they brushed over Willow, she like the others averted her eyes and bobbed a low curtsy. When she rose, Willow almost thought she saw a smirk on his face, but his face was turned away so quickly that it was hard for her to be sure.
All of the Lieutenants rarely spoke, although an occasional grunt could be heard from time to time. There was one small, female lieutenant that when in the presence of tragedy or death was known to giggle in a high-pitched, childish way that instantly unsettled people. Willow had only seen that one once, but she had never been so scared of a being more then she had been in that moment, tiny or not. They did not often see either of the female Lieutenants, the always caused quite the stir amongst the people. Why could this woman be a Lieutenant, but the average woman could not work? What was the difference?
No one ever voiced these concerns too loudly, but it was a known discrepancy in the Kings Laws. What could they do about it when complaint only led to death?
The Lieutenant passed leisurely, clearly in no rush. His soldiers passed in a uniform march behind him, as silent as the death they brought but for the sound of their boot covered feet against the dirt. The people breathed a collective sigh of relief as they saw the company turn toward the front gates and depart, presumably headed for the hanging hill where they had been camped since they'd arrived.
They'd been playing host to the Lieutenant for almost a month. This alone was unusual. Whenever a Lieutenant visited it was a tense few days, but at least it was a short visit. It was rare for a Lieutenant to stay a full cycle. It had led to more than one line of gossip, no matter how hushed. People wondered both at the unusual length of the stay and at the frequent presence in town. In all the visits Willow remembered, the Lieutenant had entered the city perhaps once in the entire time.