Trigger Warning: Mentions of rape and sexual abuse.

Kathyra

Please be awake.

I am close to begging as I knock, struggling to control my shaking hand and make as little noise as possible when I knock on Giselle's door. My clothes are soaked through and I am shivering from cold. My lungs burn when I breathe, and my side feels ripped open anew. There is no response, and I knock again, daring to strike with more force.

The door opens and I drown in a field of green. Her gorgeous eyes take me in. They are brighter than they have ever been, rimmed with red, as though she has been crying. I feel as though they are stripping away the layers of silence and leaving me naked before her. Naked, with my eyes covered in nightmares and my hands stained a permanent shade of crimson.

"Inside, this instant." She orders, but her voice is not harsh.

Her tones are low, worried, and hoarse. Her eyes are rimmed red and they look swollen, as though she has been weeping. Giselle reaches out for my hand, but pulls away...both of us are so uncertain. Something has changed between us; the surety of our former steps and former words shared is all but forsaken. There is so much that she does not know; there is so much to say...and I am terrified.

"Do not simply stand there!" She chastises, but her words are still thick with anxiety, fueling the volume and heat behind her speech. "You will catch your death. Come near the fire, and take off your clothes. You're shivering so badly I might believe the earth is quaking."

I stumble towards the warmth of the hearth, but my fingers refuse to obey me as I fumble with the soaked leather laces of my shirt. I am too numb, to stunned by all that I have borne witness to. Instead of struggling further with the laces, I cease persevering and let my hands fall away.

"What in hell were you thinking?" Giselle reappears from the shadows of the room, burdened with blankets.

"I...I did not really..." The words come out punctuated with stutters and end with light coughing.

"Maker and Creators colliding. You're a veritable mess, Kathyra." Giselle throws the blankets on a nearby chair and moves to stand before me. "First things first," Her voice is even and measured, the voice she uses when assessing a patient, "we have to get you warm." She bites her lower lip and her eyes look wet in the firelight. "Let me help you." This is not her physician's voice, but a plea from a heart to a heart, a mind to a mind.

My teeth are chattering and the shivers wracking me are becoming more violent. I nod in lieu of speaking. Giselle's small, delicate hands grasp the hem of my shirt and she lifts it, slow, baring my soaked, trembling body to the air. She is careful not to let her hands graze my skin. The boundaries that were forgotten earlier when we embraced are now once more in place. I do not know if I am grateful for it.

She tosses the shirt near the fire and looks at me, white and shivering, half-naked and so very, very vulnerable. She locks her eyes with mine, holding them, reassuring me in a silent exchange as her hands reach for the lacings of my trousers, carefully untying the leather and easing the ties apart. gentle, hesitant, she peels away the soaked material, her eyes never leaving mine as she removes the clothing from my body. I step out of the garment and she tosses it in the same direction as the shirt.

Immediately she stands, reaching for the blanket, stopping and hanging her head before her fingers close around it.

"Kathyra, I am sorry." She breathes, turning her eyes to mine once more. "It has only been a month. Your lungs are still weak from your injury...I need to listen to your breathing. You...damn it, you have to be all right."

"F...Forgive me." I grit my teeth as she steps nearer, attempting to recall my resolution, to fortify myself and begin to heal. I can't run anymore.

I have nothing but death to return to, I remind myself. And though pain is found in living, it is proof of life.

Giselle leans in and places her delicate, pointed ear against my chest. I attempt to still the shivering, to let her do her work. The strangest of sensations overwhelms me as quiet pervades the room. The urge to reach out, run my fingers through her tresses of molten gold, inhale the scent of her skin. against my will, my heart begins to beat faster.

I am no stranger to this situation, but always before, I have known my duty. To play as subservient, to give into my companion's wishes, bend to their desires, sat their every whim. to indulge and deceive...I have given my body to depraved men and vindictive women, against my will and out of love. Love with no reciprocation. Love with betrayal as its ultimate end.

But never...never have I thought of being the first to touch. My body has always been a weapon, never a gift...and now it is too damaged to be of any worth. I rein in my errant thoughts as Giselle moves away and wraps the blanket around me, ushers me into the chair, and pushes it closer to the warmth of the fire.

"Your breathing is more labored than I'd like." She comments and turns her face, but not before I see what looks to be the faintest flush of pink in her cheeks. "Keep that blanket close; seal in your natural body heat." The physician is back in full force and I discard my ridiculous notion of her feeling anything deeper.

She cares for me as her apprentice, possibly even her friend...but nothing more, and I am a fool to even consider it.

Giselle returns a short time later, holding a steaming cup. She hands it to me and I accept, inhaling the pungent odor, looking to her for an answer.

"You tell me." She smiles and sits on the hearthstone before the fire.

The established pattern helps to settle my frayed nerves and I inhale the steam. "Eucalyptus." I answer. "Used to aid congested breathing."

"Very good." Giselle nods, but there is no light in her eyes as there has been the past month when I answered her inquiries correctly. She stares off into the distance, as though gathering her thoughts...as though summoning courage. "Kathyra...what am I doing wrong?"

Her inquiry takes me by surprise and I tighten my grip on the cup that nearly slipped from my grasp. "N...nothing."

She purses her lips and nods, drawing conclusions, fitting the puzzle together in her brilliant mind. "Then why do you run?" She asks. "I mean you no harm, I simply...I simply want to know you, and every time that I ask you the simplest of questions the blood leaves your face and, moments later, you are gone. I can but assume that you have no trust in me, when I have done nothing but attempt to prove myself worthy of it."

You are worthy, I want to tell her. But I...I am not. And you will see that, the moment I reveal to you my weaknesses and doubts...my past.

"I am afraid." I confess, hoping that it might be enough, for resolve weakens when I feel the comfort of her presence and bask in her care.

"Reveal something I am unaware of." She chides, but not in anger. "I do not...Kathyra, I know very little about you, save for your name, and that you were once a servant of...some sort. But you...you fell into my life in a swirl of chaos and blood and then...then you saved me."

I...saved...you?

"From Cyril." She explains, seeing the questions in my eyes. "From having to distort my calling and my passion into some...some charade for a noble to make a pretense at in order to further his name by over-exaggerated good deeds. Such...such a thing would have broken my soul. And for that, Kathyra, for that gift alone...I am willing to give you anything to ask, for now I am free to do so. "

Then do not ask for revelation, the darker voice taunts me again. Let it be as it was, with no truth between you. Keep your secrets well, for to divulge them is to draw death near you.

I drink the last of the tea and look into the fire, watching the leaping flames, and willing myself to walk into them. I would do this for none other, but Giselle...Giselle has proven herself to be different.

"I am a thief." I confess, feeling the iron bands of fear around my heart begin to groan as too much pressure is placed upon them. "I am a liar." More pressure and breathing becomes difficult. "I am a murderer and a whore." The bands fly apart, doubling me over in true, physical pain. Tears stream from my eyes and drip onto the floor and, even though I am warmer, I begin to tremble once again.

"What are you talking about?" Giselle asks and I hear her coming closer; feel the non-touch of her hand as it hovers above my shoulder.

"D...don't look at me." I beg, unable to bear the gaze of her incendiary eyes. "Please...I...I couldn't bear it."

"Who did this to you?" She inquires, not moving, nor turning her eyes away. I can feel her gaze on my skin, kind and insightful, caring and questioning. "Kathyra, who..."

"The man who took me in." I groan as my gut twists in sharp, gnawing agony. "We...my sister and I...we were orphaned. My father and mother were killed before my eyes...and I covered hers...I covered hers and she didn't have to see..."

Does that mean nothing to you, Marjolaine? Does it mean nothing that I shielded your gaze from the sight; stood before you as our mother's blood spattered across my cheek; took your hand and fled before those blades found us as well?

"Blessed Creators." Giselle whispers, horror in her words. "Kathyra, it's all right. I..."

"No." The word is nearly a growl and I turn my eyes at last to hers, to let her see the feral thing that Leron created. "We lived on the streets for nearly a year, starving, frightened, running from the sounds in the night, fleeing from slavers and lechers and rogues. Marjolaine...my sister...she became ill that winter. We had no coin, no family...nothing. And then...like a deliverer prayed for, he appeared. He used his magic to help keep her strong, and promised me he could save her...fucking magic." I spit the word in disgust, for it is something I have learned to revile. "I...I let my guard down. I was so grateful and so tired, and I answered his questions and accepted his offer of a home."

A soft gasp leaves Giselle's lips, and I know that she is seeing me in her mind's eye, a world-weary, terrified child, hoping against hope, believing against faith, and, at last, trusting.

"It was so pleasant, those first few years." I look back on the happier times, of seeing Marjolaine free from fear, free from illness, clothed in beautiful dresses and embracing the joy of learning new things. "We were taught the fine arts: painting, singing, dance, poetry, tales, music. By that time, I would have done anything for him in gratitude. He had become our father...then everything changed."

I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat as my gut twists again and my heart aches as it pounds in my chest, remembering the fear, the sickened disgust...the first missing days.

"One night...one night he came to me..." My voice trembles, "...naked and demanding and he...he stole from me everything I had. My virtue, my innocence, my conscience. He owned me completely and told me that I would do everything he asked or my sister would suffer the consequences."

"Goddess of mercy and healing." Giselle breathes, calling on a deity I have never before heard reference to. "What..."

"He put weapons in my hands." I stare down at the floor. "Trained me in their use and, when I mastered them, I learned his true nature. King of the shadows, lord of whispers, lord of lies...those who make and break kingdoms with no one the wiser. I drew blood." My hands begin to shake. "I broke bone. I killed and I deceived and I seduced until I could bear it no more. It was when I rebelled that he first used his magic. He tore into my mind and, at last, stole even that refuge from me. Every one of my thoughts was his, every word, every deed. It became a sick, twisted game...I would wake in strange places with blood on my hands, secrets locked away in my thoughts that only he could reach. And as he tore what he wanted from my mind he used me for his pleasure and, when he was sated, I was given to his friends as goods to be bartered. It took a year of pure, unadulterated hell, countless beatings, bruises, and rapes to earn his trust again."

"How?" I can see the tremors in Giselle's hands; can see how they long to reach out and comfort. But they are more hesitant now that they know the truth; now that they know how truly damaged I am. "How did you endure all of that."

"I..." There are tears, and my voice breaks, and my heart hurts. "...I couldn't let him hurt her." I gasp. "I could have endured anything so long as she was safe...but, as I discovered tonight...he lied to me."

"You," her skin pales," You went back to him? Kathyra, are you certain I have done you no wrong?"

"Yes." The fact that her voice still holds concern, still holds caring, bolsters me and gives me courage. "Fear makes us seek out the familiar. I have exploited that knowledge too many times to count. So I...I sought what I once knew...only to realize that I had been lied to, yet again. I thought my sister had been cared for, kept innocent. What I did not know is that it was she whom Leron desired all along. What I did not know was that, when he forced me to do his bidding, he taught her, warped her...destroyed the beautiful woman she could have been. You asked me once," I press my hand to my right side, where the flesh is still tender, "who dealt me this wound."

"I did." She nods.

"My sister, Marjolaine, did this to me." I move out of the chair and huddle into myself on the floor, pulling the blanket around me like a shield. "the very night I bought my freedom and sold my body to him one final time...for her freedom as well. And she spat in my face and took my blade and nearly killed me with it."

The memory of that night washes over me in a sickening wave and I lurch to my feet and stagger to the chamber pot, dropping to my knees and retching until I have nothing left in me but grief and fear and exhaustion. I remain on my knees, shuddering, thinking of the lonely life ahead, when Giselle realizes what I am and turns me from her door, back to a life of death.

"Here." The physician kneels beside me and extends a cup of water and a soaked cloth.

I rinse the acid from my mouth and wash my face, keeping my eyes averted from Giselle's.

"You need to rest, Kathyra." Giselle whispers, rising and offering me her hand. "Let me help you into bed."

I nod, but refuse her hand, not wanting to taint something so beautiful with my touch. I get to my feet and stumble to the bed, collapsing onto its soft surface with a groan. Giselle tucks the blankets around me, careful still that our skin does not brush one another's.

"How?" I ask her as she sits on the edge of the bed, keeping a silent vigil. "How can you find kindness in your heart for one such as I? I...I have taken lives, Giselle. My hands are soaked with blood, my lips scarred with lies, my body defiled. That is who I am."

Giselle moves from the bed and kneels before me, tears shining like stars in her eyes. "Not as I see it." She tells me. "What you spoke to me of...that is who you were, Kathyra. Against your will, that is who you were."