Episode Sixty Nine
Laying in her giant tub surrounded by kelly green, strawberry scented foam, Gwen tried to relax. The water was soothing to her muscles, easing the pressure in her head. Yet she couldn't ease the burden in her heart.
She had found and lost family, alienated the man she loved and fallen out of contact with the other man she loved. She wanted to cry; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Instead, she lazed in a tub filled with dread for the next day.
That wasn't entirely true. She wasn't completely dreading tomorrow. Tomorrow held such promise. There was hope still, somewhere locked deep down in her soul. All she had to do was open the door.
She still held that the Stag King had filled her with some kind of ancient magic while she was in his care. Even when things were at their worst, even when despair was eating away at her there was and would always be that tiny speck of hope, that flame she had never been able to squelch.
Not since her incident with the death eaters had she really felt it licking at her brain. But it was still kindling, sparkling merrily far below somewhere near the pit of her stomach. When she was uttering the ancient tongue of her people she didn't really understand what it was that made her so determined to show them what they had done.
Now, away from the rush of that situation she could finally analyze the feeling. It was hope that they would change, hope that they would learn. Of course her mind argued that they probably hadn't and were well on their way back to Lord Voldemort to cause more mischief. They couldn't possibly understand that the intense pain they felt, the screaming filling their ears was how their victims had felt. Had they been perfectly upstanding citizens they would have felt nothing. Since they were henchmen of the dark lord they felt the pain they had inflicted on other wizards and witches during their tenure in his service.
The flame in Gwen's soul was the light of the fey people. The light of knowledge, joy and everlasting hope. It was burning within her as it did in all fey. She had far more of their blood than she thought, though she suspected. The Stag King would not have taken such a particular interest in her unless he thought she could change the world, make a difference.
She wanted to, she just couldn't figure out how.
