Chapter 8: Spring, The Full Light of the Bright Sun
He found her in Allistor's chambers, with a handful of clean linens and furs. She was humming quietly to herself; some tune he didn't know. He knocked gently on the open door to draw her attention. She didn't jump or startle though this time at the sound. By now, she expected him to appear off and on while she worked. Either under the ruse of finding something he had conveniently forgotten in his chambers, or just to check in and see that her day was running smoothly, he'd find an excuse to see her.
She rarely gifted him with a full smile at his attentions, but he'd taken a liking to the dimples that appeared on her cheeks while she bit her smiles back. That was what she met him with now. Knowing eyes, and one teasing dimple. He could tell by the way her nose scrunched and her lips pursed that she was biting the inside of her cheek. Sorley smiled broadly and gestured for her to follow him. Malvina raised a skeptical eyebrow and stayed where she was.
"I have something I'd like to show you," he said. He held out his hand and her eyes flickered down to his palm, intrigued. She hugged the fur in her arms, closer to her person, and looked from him to the bed that was only half made, and the pile of dirty laundry left to collect on the floor.
She whispered quietly her response and he felt the same sense of rightness wash over him that always did when he heard her voice. Her face was apologetic, and she gave him a shrug. He sighed.
"Honestly, lass, you cannot live to clean alone. Have you taken a single moment for yourself since you arrived here?" He shook his head and kept his hand extended. "By Christ, stubborn woman. I promise, leaving your chores for but a minute will not kill you."
She narrowed her eyes at his tone, looked between his earnest face and his hand a couple times before eyeing the bed suspiciously as though it would go down to Mrs. McCleod and tell her all sorts of sordid lies about her encounters with Sorley in the corridor. Then with a great deal of reluctance she hefted the fur onto the bed and made her way primly past him and out the door, brushing away his outstretched hand with a halfhearted glare. Once they were both in the corridor, she turned to him and gestured for him to lead the way. Sorley followed her out of Allistor's chambers. The corridor was drafty but warmer than it had been some weeks ago, a light breeze drifted through the window and caressed the hair that fell out of her braid and framed her face.
She turned her curious gaze on him once more and Sorley shook himself from his stupor. If he didn't know better, he'd say the stubborn lass had bewitched him. He cleared his throat and led her down the corridor to his chambers. He left the door open once she was through and she looked at him amused and curious and perhaps a bit timid too.
Malvina watched him with questions in her eyes. He grimaced, taking stock of his room and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing how much this scene could have been misconstrued. But with no way but forward, he smiled at Malvina in a way he hoped was reassuring. There was nothing left to do but commit. Sorley moved past her toward the small window at the far end of his chambers. The window that looked down on the village, and all the world that laid beyond.
Sorley was trouble. Addison was fairly certain of it. He often found reasons to pop in on her when no one else was around. Just to exchange a quick hello or make sure that she wasn't being accosted by any stray knights or servants. He had become a rather constant fixture seemingly overnight, and she wasn't going to complain about it even if the other girls took exception to her special treatment.
So, she may have to double check that no one had put bugs in her food while she wasn't looking. And she may have to wait until all the other girls have gone downstairs before she herself attempts to brave the journey. She may trip more often than usual over a stray foot, stuck out at the last minute, and she may have lost a lock of hair in the laundry one day while she'd been cornered by Abigall and Glenna and another vicious little maid she didn't know the name of. Addison hated all of these things, had seriously begun to fear what would happen if things continued the way they were. But it only solidified her belief that her judgement was true. These were acts of jealousy. The girls knew what she had found in Sorley, and they bitterly hated her for it.
Even Lorna had to beg off of their friendship for fear of being terrorized as well. In the quiet of their chambers the girl was friendly enough, but once they'd re-entered public view, Addison was entirely alone. Lorna had not even a smile to spare for her under the watchful eyes of their vengeful peers.
It stung. Addison ached for the easy companionship she had with the girl in between her arrival and the moment Sorley had become a contentious topic downstairs. It's like the other maids could smell the shift between her and the gentle giant. Lorna was a friend, and she wasn't at the same time. Addison missed her, but she understood. It was a tough position to be in when you'd been culled from the pack. Addison would know, she'd never even been in the pack, and being on the outside was a lonely place to be. Lorna had to do what she needed to survive. Addison had to do the same.
It was ironic though, Addison thought. The more the girls isolated her, and drove a wedge between herself and Lorna, Addison felt more and more inclined to fill her time with Sorley. Felt more and more certain that Sorley would be steadfast in this ever-changing place. That Sorley would continue to provide her shelter from the constantly changing moods that impacted the castle and its occupants.
She looked from Sorley's outstretched hand to the bed she'd only partially made. She should finish her chores, not follow him off to God knows where. She would get in trouble. He spoke again and she could have sworn he was teasing her. His eyes were light, and his tone had a playful bite to it that matched the tilt of his lips. His eyebrows pressed together in exasperation.
She should finish her chores, but... She sighed and tried not to smile at his persistence. She wanted to go with Sorley more. She threw the furs on the bed and promised herself that she'd come back and finish them as soon as possible. Then she brushed past him and out the door, steadfastly ignoring his outstretched hand for fear that her own palms would be sweaty and that he'd be able to sense the fast beat of her pulse through her skin.
He led her to his chambers which would have been alarming if it was anyone other than him. In fact, she'd become quite accustomed to his room, had often thought of it as something that belonged more to her than him at any rate. As unlikely as it seemed, she trusted Sorley and she entered his space without so much as a second thought about it. He let her enter first and left the door open when he followed. She looked around the room. It was clean but for the candles that needed collecting, and the furs that needed airing out. She turned back to him in confusion. What had he needed her for?
As if sensing the question that was on the tip of her tongue, he moved over to the window. Turned back and gestured for her to join him. Addison, confused, did as he bade her. She joined him by the window.
He seemed so perfectly at ease. She couldn't quite wrap her head around how anyone could be so relaxed in a place such as this. He was something else entirely. She couldn't explain how he made her feel but for the fact that when he came around it was like her lungs could take in air more easily. He was like a deep breath of air to her. Like the longest of exhales.
The air was sweeter when he was near. And the world, more vibrant. Sorley's gaze rested on the view outside, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. His hair was tied back by a leather band, loose still and always wild, but tamer than she'd seen it before. His shoulders sloped down a bit and she knew he was still making himself smaller in her presence. Slouching just enough that he didn't hulk over her like the behemoth he was.
Addison itched to reach up and smooth his shoulders back, she wanted him to hold himself normally around her, wanted him to know that she was no longer afraid. Not of him. That he need not alter how he moved through the world just to make her comfortable. But she clasped her hands together to keep them from betraying her thoughts and following through with her desires. She didn't realize she was staring until he caught her. His eyes glittered. She sniffed and ducked her head. Desperate to escape his knowing gaze, she looked out the window.
Addison gasped. The sun was high in the sky, bright and near burning the land with its clear light. So bright she had to close her eyes against it. Outside Sorley's window was a view of the village, and so much more. She felt her breath catch a bit at the sight of it all. Standing there in Sorley's chambers, staring out his window, Addison was given the most breathtaking view of her vast new world.
She jolted forward, hands grasping the ledge tight. She leaned into the view until the top half of her body was fully hanging out of the opening. She felt more than heard the man beside her rumble out a quiet word of warning, but she ignored him. Didn't budge an inch when he settled a steadying hand on the small of her back. His fingers clenched the fabric of her dress. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that she was making him nervous. His grip was strong on the back of her so as to keep her from falling.
The breeze that welcomed her was cool on her skin, but it was not the bitter stinging wind that it had been for these past many months of winter. Beyond the village were the green woods that seemingly overnight grew even greener still. And beyond the trees... a thrill shot through her. Straight to her throat. She didn't know what was happening to her but her surprise had turned into a sob that she desperately tried to beat back. She felt like an animal. She felt like a wild, captured animal that had been stuck in a cage. And only now was she realizing—only now was she remembering that she had once been free. The sounds that threatened to escape her were loud, and broken and jubilant and pathetic and so many things she couldn't give away. So her lips stayed pressed in a thin line and she breathed fast and deep through her nose like it would stamp out whatever sensation was building in her. She pulled back away from the window, pulled herself back into the stone walls of the castle with a force of will she did not know she had in her. Held herself in for fear she'd pitch herself out, but Addison kept her eyes fixed on the horizon.
Past the village. Past the trees. There on the horizon, close enough to reach out and touch, was a vast and beautiful sea. Bright and twinkling in the newly returned sunlight. The sound that did escape her tightly pressed lips was a mournful one. Hopeful too. She'd never made such a sound in her life, but Sorley mumbled something quietly to her. Took his hand from her back and brought it up to gently tap her chin. She tore her eyes away from the view to look at this man who had given to her time and again more than he could possibly know. She didn't know what to say, how to convey all that he had done for her. How could she possibly tell him what he had done for her this morning, and all the mornings before this.
His eyes were curious as they studied her own. She felt like he was trying to reach down into the depths of her mind and see what she had hidden there. Her heart broke a bit at the tragedy of this thing that existed between them. Surely, if this man could see what he was looking for in her, his mind would break under the weight of it. She wasn't entirely sure her own mind hadn't cracked in her time here. He looked at her like she was a mystery, and she gave him small smile that conflicted with the wild, desperate look she knew was in her eyes. She was not a mystery he could solve. She wished he could though. God knows it would be a lot less lonely if Sorley knew. And if anyone could unravel the threads that bound her to this place and time, it would be Sorley, for sure. He didn't seem like he would mind the task.
Addison opened her mouth to say something. But she didn't know what to say. Then as though her body had decided her mind was moving far too slow, she pivoted and crossed over to his door. Pushed it gently until it closed. Addison flipped the latch and turned back to him.
The poor man looked alarmed to say the least. His eyebrows had shot into his hairline at the sudden turn of events. Addison strode across the room then. Faster and more confidently than she'd ever moved in all the time she'd known him. He looked almost nervous, like he would back away if he weren't made of tougher stuff. She smiled at his panic, laughed a little bit at the complete ridiculousness of the situation and threw her arms around Sorley. Launched herself at him really. He let out a grunt at the impact, but she squeezed him through it. Smiling and shaking her head, and not at all worried that she had apparently come unhinged at the sight of the sun and the sky and the deep blue sea. It was spring. Sorley had seen her through to spring.
Sorley wasn't sure how best to proceed. Caught off guard by this lively display from Malvina, maiden of mysteries that she was, his mind simply could not map out the appropriate response to this inappropriate display. Even if it was done in innocence. She held on tightly, smiling and laughing and muttering things in that odd language of hers, and Sorley didn't want to take advantage... truly he didn't, but a wave of rightness washed over him to have her so near. Even if the lass may have lost her senses for the moment, this was everything he could ever need. Carefully he brought his arms down to wrap around her and hold her gently to him.
For every ounce of force that she threw into their embrace, he applied an additional ounce of care. Holding her here in his arms, chest near about to burst in elation at having her there, Sorley was suddenly aware of how truly tiny she was compared to him. Wrapped up tight together, her slight frame had nearly disappeared. Sorley didn't know what he had been carrying with him until this moment, but with the sun on his back and Malvina in his arms, he felt it leave him. His back lost some of the tension that he always seemed to carry through his days. His shoulders curved forward in the pleasure and simple comfort of Malvina's embrace. Heavy. He felt heavy. Sleepy even. The desire to fall back onto his bed and drift off into a deep and restful slumber nagged at him. So enticing a combination were Malvina and the bright sun that called to them the arrival of Spring.
He did not know if he had a right to feel this way, but this was what it meant to be content. This was the way it was meant to be between a man and a woman. This was what the lonely people of the world searched for all their lives. The warmth that so few found. He could remain here, in just this simple way, forever and a day.
Malvina had stopped laughing, but her face remained pressed into his chest, right at the very heart of him. It was there that a tether had always kept him bound to this land. An inexplicable tether that often felt wild, and heavy and beyond him in every way. He felt it now, unwinding itself from its ties to the land, and winding itself anew around Malvina. Anchoring him to her in a way that he knew would withstand the test of time. Long after he was gone from this world. Long after she followed him into some other more eternal life. The tether would remain there, intertwined with the threads she didn't even know she was weaving around him. He knew now that this had always been meant for her.
She took a deep breath, gave an extra squeeze before drawing back and away. She cast a nervous glance up at him, cleared her throat and looked away just as quickly. He let his arms fall back to his sides reluctantly and watched her step back.
Addison felt her face flush and cleared her throat awkwardly as Sorley let her go. She stepped back, suddenly aware of how odd she must seem to him. But his eyes were kind as he looked back at her. Maybe a little confused, but there was something in them that told her it was okay. Whatever had just happened between them, he gave her the impression that it would be fine. To her own surprise, she reached out for his hand. When he gave it willingly, she pulled him back to the window so she could look at the view. It's not like she hadn't been outside before now. Not like she hadn't seen plenty of snow and fog and occasionally the brutal winter sun that never seemed to warm you even when the sky was no longer grey. She took trips to the well every day. Passed by windows while she worked. But knowing something was there wasn't the same thing as looking at it. Truly looking and seeing required a presence of mind that had altogether evaded Addison since the day she arrived.
"I haven't seen the village in months," she said to him so softly she wondered if he'd even be able to hear. Sorley shifted beside her. Turned his body to face her instead of the view outside his window, but she stayed how she was. Addison wanted to drink in the sight in front of her, brand it in her memory so that it could warm her when she was back downstairs in the servant's quarters, bitter that her dreams of the twenty first century had begun to fade.
Her memory had become muddled in the winter. She could no longer recall Lala's face or the smell of her perfume. Instead, she had a shadowy outline of the image of her grandmother that faded quicker and quicker every day she spent here. She had the pleasure of the memory of her perfume, knew that it had once been a comforting smell, but could not actually remember the scent of it anymore.
She couldn't remember the flavor of her favorite food even though she could name it. She no longer craved it because she'd forgotten how to crave something for flavor alone. Now, she craved the things she needed to keep her alive. Now, she craved pears and warmth and shelter. Now, she craved Sorley and his unique brand of kindness. She longed for the days when she craved pizza and movies, a day at the park or time spent alone in her bedroom. She longed for the days when she craved her iPhone like it was a second limb. She longed for the days when her biggest problems were loading the dishwasher and a low battery. She longed for Lala, missed her fiercely, but it was like something had overcome Addison and numbed her to the things that were too painful to feel. She had cried over her grandmother in the beginning. Now, though, she just felt like it was best to think of other things before the loss of her old life overwhelmed her.
She had fallen silent. Sorley remained silent too, content to watch her mind work through whatever it was she was thinking.
"I—" she smiled a bit bitterly and shot him a look. She scrunched her nose and squinted up at him. "I know that I'm going to say all this and none of it's going to make sense to you... I know you just wanted to show me a pretty view or whatever, but Sorley..."
His eyes lit at the sound of his name on her lips. She smiled at his reaction. She knew she was much the same when he called her Malvina.
"Sorley... I come from a place that's so much bigger than the world you and I live in now. You couldn't even — I don't even know how to explain it —you couldn't imagine. I was born in the 1990s. I don't even know how far away that is from here..."
She cut herself off. Chest constricting at the admission.
She didn't think she'd spoken so much in months. Not since she arrived. And it felt odd to say these things out loud. They were so safe in her mind, so guarded there. And it felt like saying them out loud left them susceptible to hurt. But this was Sorley she was talking to. She turned from the window then, eyeing him nervously. She shook her head at her nerves and muttered a quick 'fuck it' to herself before making her way over to his bed and plopping down on it like it belonged to her.
He startled a bit at that and backed up in confusion. Addison rolled her eyes, drew her legs up to sit cross legged beneath her skirts. She got comfortable. Settled in with her back against the wall. And patted the spot next to her. He studied her for a moment before settling on some internal compromise. He pulled his stool over to the edge of the bed and leaned on it, facing her with his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed on her own.
"I was born in the 90s. In a place that I think must be far west from here. I'm assuming this is feudal Europe, right?" She asked him and paused as though she was waiting for a response and then remembered that just because she was suddenly talking didn't mean he could suddenly understand. She scoffed at herself. Dragged a hand over her loose braid. "The entire continent I'm from probably hasn't even been discovered by your people yet. It's just out there, across the ocean, untouched by this part of the world. In its own little universe. And you people probably still think that you'll fall off the edge of the world if you swim out too far for fuck's sake."
She threw her hands out in exasperation at him before smacking them down on her thighs. The sound was loud in the silence of his chambers, her emphasis on the ridiculousness of the entire situation, jarring. He was attentive. More attentive than she really had any right to expect from him. But his eyes did not light up with sudden understanding. Occasionally he would squint as though he'd caught a sound or a word that sounded familiar, but then he would lose whatever epiphany he had and focus back in on her rambling.
"Can you believe that I haven't really paid attention to this place until now? I just... I have been so busy keeping my head down and trying to just... get through it, and you just show up and you're — I mean you're pretty fucking perfect — and you drag me in here and open a fucking curtain, and suddenly it's spring. It's spring. And—and there's the ocean. I didn't even know we were so close to it. That would have been impossible," she shook her head. Lips twisted. Addison felt heavy with some ugly emotion she couldn't place. There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she finally spoke the thing she'd been too stunned to think about until now. "In my world, the world is at your feet. Everything is connected and it — it would have been really weird to not know that the ocean was basically at your front door. And I don't even know what month it is anymore. Let alone the day or year. Do you even know that sort of thing? Is anyone even keeping track yet?" She looked to him and shrugged when he tilted his head to consider her tone.
He recognized that she'd asked a question, and she acknowledged that he couldn't answer it. The smile he fixed her with was just as begrudging as her own.
"It doesn't really matter, I guess. Whatever month it is... Sorley, I'm really tired. All the time. And everything hurts. This place— I think it's gonna k—" She choked on the word she didn't want to say. Kill. This place was going to kill her. She was going to die here. "I don't know how far I'm going to make it here, Sorley."
She sniffed. Bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, desperate to keep her bottom lip from wobbling. The man was starting to look a little alarmed. And a little sympathetic too. If he didn't think she was crazy before, he certainly would now.
Addison's whole body seized up at the thought that her little confessional would be unattractive to him. That he would think she was losing her mind and no longer treat her the same. She needed him to treat her the same. Her breath had lodged itself in her throat. She looked up at him. Couldn't blink. Couldn't move. Oh god, she'd fucked up. What—what was she doing on his bed for fuck's sake? This was bad. She shook herself out of her stupor. Stood just as a bank of clouds had passed over the sun. The room fell into shadow. Shadows that stretched long and filled the space between them. She took a shaky breath. Moved to get off his bed. To leave him and get back to her chores. She had to go. This was a mistake. She had to go.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. This was stupid. I need to — I need to finish my chores —"
She made to leave but Sorley, with a great amount of care, reached out and grabbed her hand. Addison froze, looked down at where he'd intertwined his fingers with hers. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. Sorley's face was solemn and kind. There was no judgement anywhere that she could see.
If anything, well... he may not have understood what she was saying but he wanted her to say it. She watched him a moment to make sure she had read him right. He smiled gently and nodded at the place where she had previously made herself comfortable, with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. He gave her hand a squeeze and said something that she took to mean as 'continue.' Addison ignored the uneasy feeling that had urged her to run. Instead, she did as he asked. Settled herself back in and watched his face closely for a sign that this was a mistake.
But the kindhearted bastard just waited patiently for her to say more.
In the far back of her mind, Addison could here Lala's voice muttering 'in for a penny,' and couldn't help but agree. She told him everything. Where she was from. What her world was like. Addison told Sorley her deepest fears and her deepest regrets. The things she missed the most and the things that kept her awake at night. She told him about how horrible it was, how terrifying it was, to wake up in this world and have no idea how to survive. She told him about the bullying in the servant's quarters and how she missed Ailios but not her hut. She missed the seclusion of the village in comparison to the coldness of the castle, but the food was easier for her to eat here, and she had a bed here too. She told him how she was afraid she would die here, young and alone. Either violently or of something that would have been entirely preventable back home in the twenty first century. She told him about Maslow and his stupid hierarchy of stupid fucking needs. And she confessed — blushing and stuttering as she did — that she was attracted to him. Talked to him like she was talking to a friend back home about her millions of concerns regarding her attraction to him. How she felt stupid and naïve and vulnerable to want to be around him. She confessed everything, honest in a way she never could have done if he could understand what she was saying. He had driven her completely to distraction and she only craved more of it, anything to take her mind off of her fear. She didn't know if that was fair to him either, but she didn't know if she cared. Sorley was the best thing in her world right now. She just wished she could hear the same from him. Wished this was a conversation between two people who cared for each other, and not the sad ramblings of a foreign serf girl as witnessed by a knight who possessed a near-Arthurian sense of right and wrong.
"Gallowglass," she said. And this time her voice cracked around it. It was soft and mournful and so full of the struggle of a creature that had been through too much. He knew the sound. And it shook him to hear it coming from her. He didn't know how long they'd remained there in his chambers, Malvina curled up on his bed like she belonged there, and him pitched forward in his seat, hanging onto every word that spilled from her lips.
She was enchanting. She was heartbreaking. He didn't understand a word of her language, but he recognized enough to know that whatever she spoke was a distant cousin to the language his father spoke when he was a child. And he thought her very clever to have kept her manner of speaking to herself for so long.
He didn't know what she said but she experienced the breadth of human emotion as she said it. With one bitter look she could steal the breath from his lungs. With one laugh she'd release him of his worry. With one tear she'd drive him to distraction with his desire to reach out and brush it away.
When she finished her tale, she looked up at him mournfully and warily. Malvina had trusted him with her story. He knew this without understanding a word she had spoken — of course he did — for what other tale could be told with such fierceness and grief, such care and speed.
She had called him Gallowglass in that way, and he knew not how to fix it. So he held her hand for a time while she collected herself. His chambers were silent. And he thought for a moment that even the walls needed time to take in the things she had shared. Trust. She'd given him her trust. She stood and righted her skirts around her a little nervously. He stayed seated on his stool. Lost in thought. This is what he'd wanted. All those weeks ago when she'd been so new to the castle. She'd stood before him, a dark halo cast around her person and waited for him to free her from the corridor. And he had gifted her that freedom easily. Later, he'd submerged himself in the bath she'd drawn him and thought about how he only desired her trust. Only desired the absence of her fear.
Now, though, his heart kicked. She placed a grateful hand on his shoulder, and he brought his own up to rest over hers. She gave him a gentle squeeze. Nervous, but understanding, Malvina turned the latch on his door and took her leave. Back to her chores. Her trust was a new kind of weight. The tether that bound the two of them together was more firmly bolted in his chest than it had ever been. The sensation of it only got more unsettling the further she walked away. She had placed her trust in him. With him, her fear abated. And Sorley was struck with a sudden dread. If they continued down this path, there was no life for either of them at the Castle Sween that would be absent of fear. It was too soon. He shook his head. Far too soon to think such thoughts. But... He stood from his stool. Made his way back into the corridor to see Malvina descending the stairs back to the servants' quarters for the rest of the day. If she did not choose him, he would stay here forever. Remain here as a friend and confidante for as long as she required it. He could give that. Would give that freely. But if Malvina felt it too, if she returned his growing affections, then Sorley decided it was best to be prepared. He set off to find Lindon, in dire need of the other man's counsel.
When winter had finally thawed and the first blooms of spring came into the world, Ailios came to the Castle Sween to collect her charge.
Addison had been mending Sorley's tunics downstairs in the servants' quarters when Mrs. McCleod called her to the back entrance to meet her former guardian. She hadn't known what to expect when the stern looking woman had showed up at the little nook by the window and snapped her fingers to get her to follow. With a nervous twist of her hands in her skirts, she wondered if someone had ratted her out for locking herself in Sorley's room with him this morning. She hadn't thought she'd been seen but in a place like this, she had quickly learned that the walls saw everything and talked about every sordid detail in the open.
When Mrs. McCleod led her to the laundry of all places, Addison felt some of her nerves leave her. This was not the place one got their hands swatted by a switch. This was not the place where you were taken before her ladyship to receive a dressing down for a minor infraction. This was not the place where you were taken when forced to go without dinner as punishment for a job poorly done. Mrs. McCleod said something, and Addison stared at her just as dumbly as always. The older woman shook her head in dismay, threw the side door open, and Addison felt herself struck dumb.
Ailios looked just as serious and overworked as ever. She was maybe a little thinner, but winter had that effect on everyone it seemed. The older woman noticed Addison and it seemed as though a wave of relief washed over her. They stood there for one long moment just taking each other in. Ailios, looking immensely guilty and nervous but proud and satisfied as well.
Addison still couldn't say she fully understood why she'd been abandoned by the woman that day all those months ago, and part of her still stung at the memory. Her world had become so desolate in those first days and weeks here at the castle, with her only safety net all the way down in the village and no longer wanting her around. Addison had known she was a burden to the impoverished mother of three, but she had missed her just the same. Despite the pain of her abandonment, Addison had seen the winter from the warmth of the castle walls. Had felt its chill permeate the stone and wondered on more than one occasion if it would kill her anyway. It was warmer in the castle to be sure, but Addison never truly recovered from the cold the village had left in her bones. She was always on the verge of catching her death. Her nose constantly ran. Her throat constantly ached. And she was still no better at keeping most foods down. Despite the loneliness, the abandonment, and the fear that came with being left here, Addison had been grateful to not be stuck outdoors in Ailios's ramshackle hut at the edge of the village.
Now, though, here Ailios stood. Addison had wondered about her, and the children. Wondered if they were safe and if they had enough to eat. She simply had to trust that they'd been surviving the dangerous winters for generations, and they simply did not need her concern. It was the only way she moved through the snow filled months without being wracked with grief and guilt for something she could not control.
Accustomed to the idea that the castle was her home now, Addison hadn't once considered that her life here would not be permanent. Hadn't once considered that Ailios would come back. Addison had resigned herself to serving the knights and nobility of Castle Sween for the rest of her life. Had imagined herself scrubbing floors and mending tunics, hauling buckets full of water up a million flights of stairs, every day for the rest of her days. She'd envisioned mornings spent in Sorley's company and stolen moments with him in between her chores. It had not been a perfect vision. Hardly the stuff of fantasy. But she had wrapped her mind around the cards she'd been dealt and set herself on taking it one step at a time. This was how she planned on staying alive.
Ailios said something to her, and Addison couldn't understand it as well as she would have in the weeks leading up to winter, but she had a feeling it was something akin to 'let's get a move on.' And Addison was frozen by it. She hated the castle in so many ways. Hated the bullying and the constant fear, but...Sorley. She'd grown anxious to see him every day. He was an anchor now, keeping her in place as the tides of history pulled her every which way. Their encounters often left her more pleased than she'd ever want to admit to herself. His attention and kindness had kept her warm through many moments of darkness and isolation. Addison had been targeted by other knights, mistrusted and shunned by her fellow servants and excluded from even the most basic social niceties for the fact that she was unlike the others — for the fact that she could not speak, that her skin was not so pale as theirs, and that she'd gained Sorley's unwavering attention. She'd made a friend in the young maid, Lorna, who'd called for him the day Addison was attacked by Rupert, but even then, that friendship had been hot and cold depending on the climate in the servants' quarters.
But in the moments the two of them found each other, alone, she and Sorley had come to a silent accord. And without saying it in so many words, they resolved to find an excuse to keep in each other's company as frequently as possible without arousing suspicion of anything untoward. To be caught by Mrs. McCleod in the private company of one of the men at arms would have meant Addison be immediately cast out to fend for herself. Mrs. McCleod cared for her own fiercely, but she would not tolerate any of her girls debasing themselves to the behavior of whores. It was beneath them, and it was beneath the house they served.
Many of the girls did, of course, have relations with the knights and nobles of the castle. It was an unspoken and common knowledge amongst everyone who lived there. And there was a cattiness amongst the ones who did so more frequently than others. Those are the girls who had picked up on Addison's private meetings with Sorley, and they had become vicious about it. Pulling her hair when Mrs. McCleod wasn't looking; sabotaging her mending and ruining Sorley's clothes so that it would look as though Malvina couldn't do her job.
They'd cut a lock of her hair and gotten her sent to bed without supper on more than one occasion. And Addison often hated them for it. Knowing how intimately they wanted to reduce her to tears did nothing to quell her anger. But a bigger part of her — the part of her that was born with a deep knowledge of the future and all of the ugly truths of the world and especially the ugly truths that haunted the past — that part of her pitied those girls.
Most of them were younger than her by a couple of years. By their count, she was just a year or so shy of being an old maid. And she had no doubt that each moment they spent in the company of the men in the castle was a moment in which they lost a little more of their power in this world. She knew that their animosity toward her was a result of some very deep powerlessness, a resentment borne of pain, because she had showed up — foreign and gangly and awkward and useless — and she had gained the attention of one of the few safe, kind men in this horrid place.
She had gained his affection and his protection, and they hated her for it. Addison grieved something fierce because if they were so starved for even a modicum of what she received from Gallowglass in his kind words, and gentle ways — in simply the fact that he asked for nothing in return — there was quite possibly no hope for a better future for them in this world.
And if she were to stay here, if Addison were never to free herself from the hellscape of history she'd found herself in, she found herself just brutal enough — just like those girls enough — to want to viciously and mercilessly hold onto him with everything she's got. If Sorley was the pinnacle of everything those girls — who were schooled in the cruelties of the world better than she — wanted, then Addison was going to make damned sure she'd keep him. She cared for him, and she knew he cared for her. And those girls couldn't have him. He was her only good thing in this life.
But here was Ailios. Holding out a hand and urging her along. Mrs. McCleod was watching her with a mix of suspicion and pity. Village life was hard and unimaginable for most of the people who had spent so long holed up in the castle walls. It wasn't unimaginable for Addison. Far from it. There were aspects of it that she had missed. But it had been a hard life in its own right. Free from the looming threat of violence and rape that was so casually accepted in the castle. But she would be going back to a life with little bread and little cheese. She'd be going back to Ailios's sad little stew. And a pile of pelts on the dirt ground that served as a bed. A bed she would have to share with the older woman. And then there were the bugs. They existed in the castle too, but it was different out there.
Addison was torn. But if the look on Mrs. McCleod's face was anything to go by... the castle had never intended to keep her. She had no choice but to go. She held up her hands in a sign for them to wait, a pleading look in her eyes. She turned and made her way back to the room she shared with Lorna.
Throwing open the door, she stood in the entry for a moment. Frozen. She didn't know what to do. What to think. She just took in the small little room that had sheltered her through the dark months of winter. That had kept the snow and the demons at bay. She made her way over to her bed, ducking down and grabbing up the light linen dress that she'd been supplied with on her first day at the castle, to accompany the wool one she currently wore. And the slippers as well. A knot twisted in her gut. She wasn't sure Mrs. McCleod would let her keep them, but she figured it couldn't hurt to try. She didn't have any belongings here, but she glanced around anyway, reluctant to leave and feeling like she was losing something even though there was nothing left to carry out with her.
She felt that invisible wound in her chest open up a little wider and throb. Addison's stomach gave a little lurch. And she wondered if she would be sick again. With a deep breath, she steeled herself against the inevitable. There was nothing to do but take a step. Just one step. Addison let her feet propel her forward. She ran one regretful hand over the tally marks she'd carefully carved into the wall every night before she fell asleep. Stared at them longingly but turned away in the end. Left the room she shared with Lorna and knew she'd never set foot in that room again. Walked out the door and made her way back to the laundry. Mrs. McCleod stared at Addison's meager belongings before sighing quietly and nodding her acquiescence. Addison could keep her new dress and slippers.
She pressed her lips tight to hide her grief, nodded once at the stern, but fair, head of housekeeping, before gesturing for Ailios to lead the way. Ailios studied her a moment, like she was seeing something in Addison that she hadn't seen before. Addison wanted to appease her, let her know that things between them were fine, but she didn't necessarily know if that was true. She felt like something inside of her had hardened in their time apart. She was less like who she had been. Addison had become something new over the course of winter. She didn't know how Ailios would like this version of her, but Addison couldn't currently bring herself to care. It wasn't until they'd crossed over the bridge and stepped from the paved stone path onto a path made of dirt, that Addison realized she had blocked out every thought of Sorley from the moment she stepped out the laundry door.
It nearly doubled her over, the thought of him now. There was no way she'd have been able to say goodbye. There was no way she even would have been able to find him. She didn't know what he did with his days or where he did it. But she'd been under the watchful eyes of Mrs. McCleod and Ailios. Neither of the women would have encouraged her associating with any of the knights. She knew it in her gut. Sorley had to be a secret. So, she'd collected her things, and left the castle for good. She hadn't looked back. And she hadn't said goodbye.
She carried on after Ailios as if she hadn't just struck herself down with a wave of poorly suppressed grief. She didn't cry. She didn't gasp for breath or keel over. There was no outward sign that anything was wrong. To all of the world, Addison was a carefully composed picture carved from stone. But the spool of thread unraveled in her belly, spun fast and wild the further she traveled from Sorley. When they got to Ailios's little hut at the edge of the village it stopped. At the edge of the woods, the spool ran out of thread. It gave a violent jerk and begged her not to go any further. Begged her not to take another step. Not out here, at the very brink of security. She closed her eyes against the sensation, and wondered if wherever he was, Sorley could feel the thread between them, pulled taut. Wondered if he could feel it threatening to snap.
Ailios watched the farmers in the mornings set out to sow their seeds. The sun had risen on the village again and driven away the last remnants of winter. The frost had gone from the grass and leaves. And the young starlings were up and about, gaining their flying wings. Spring had come for them at last. The winter had been a mild one all things considered. And only one child had died of the cold. Her own children had seen it through to the end and were now out and completing their daily chores. Her middle boy had shot up a whole head taller and she couldn't believe the uncanniness of his bearing. So, like his father, he was, every day that he grew she could see the man she'd married in her boisterous, bright eyed little boy.
Content with the state of her affairs, she decided it was time. She brushed off her skirts, looked around her meager little hut and wondered at the state of Malvina. She knew the lass had survived. She'd asked after her once when Sir Sorley had come down to counsel with Old Man Macphearson during the heaviest of the snows. He had assured her the girl fared as well as could be expected behind the stone walls of Castle Sween. But she knew better than most, that a lot could happen behind the words of reassurance murmured by others. When she'd volunteered Malvina to be a maid at the castle, the girl had been on death's door. Ill beyond repair. Frozen to the bone. And with a look in her eyes that reminded Ailios of the dead, Malvina had not been set to survive the winter. And part of Ailios feared she would arrive to collect her odd little charge, only to find a walking corpse in the place of the lass she'd left in the castle's care.
What she'd found upon arrival was far more of a transformation than she'd expected. Malvina stood before her, and there was a hardness about her. An edge to way she held herself, a careful composure that weighed down the corners of her eyes. Ailios felt her heart leap at the sight. Malvina had learned here. She had survived. The older woman couldn't help the relief that filled her at these subtle changes. The girl had even gained a bit of her weight back. Not nearly enough, she silently chided, not nearly enough weight had been gained back. But the lass's cheeks had lost the sallowness of starvation. And her lips appeared to have regained their color, though the rest of her skin had not. Her lips stood out like fresh berry stains against the younger girl's pallor. Her once sun kissed skin was faded now and dry. She did not look well. Ailios tried not to dwell too deeply on her dismay for, at the very least, Malvina's eyes were bright and alert when they landed on her. Her young charge studied her in just the same way, measuring her up and taking her fill.
"Come, Malvina. It's time to take our leave of this place," Ailios said as quietly as she could.
Mrs. McCleod was a stern woman, and she hoped quietly that Malvina had kept up the charade. Had the girl kept to her story of muteness? The gods only knew that Ailios had prayed for her odd little charge to hold her tongue in the presence of the nobles and servants of the castle. When Malvina did not move to join Ailios on the other side of some invisible line drawn between them, she bit down her own nerves and held out a hand.
"Take my hand, sister," she said and cast a quick glance at Mrs. McCleod, nervous. "Let us go back to our home."
Malvina watched her a moment longer, and Ailios felt as though her insides had twisted up and knotted in anticipation of the other girl's next move. Silently willing her not to be unpredictable in this moment of all moments. Finally, Malvina held up her hands in their universal sign. Wait here. Ailios took a breath and felt a weight heave itself off her chest.
Mrs. McCleod was standing reservedly, if politely back and out of the way. Supervising this transition of care from herself to Ailios. Seeing to it that the girl left in her charge was safely placed in the hands of another capable woman. Ailios cleared her throat as Malvina disappeared from the laundry, deeper into the servant's corridor.
"How did she fare, here?" She asked, voice cracking in her discomfort. "If you don't mind my asking. I've worried over her all winter. All alone here in the castle."
Mrs. McCleod looked up with a stern eye. Studied her a moment before deciding she liked whatever she saw.
"She's rather soft for a serf girl," she said. Ailios laughed and nodded.
"Yes," she agreed. "I'm afraid she is, but I've found her to be a quick learner. She does try very hard."
"I suppose she does, at that," Mrs. McCleod said through pursed lips.
"Did she — were the other girls—"
"She got by well enough," Mrs. McCleod snapped, unwilling to detail the brutality of her little horde of young women.
Ailios bit her tongue and nodded her understanding. They remained in silence after that until Malvina returned — carrying a linen dress and a new pair of slippers. Ailios took in the sight of her and bit back a laugh at the picture the younger girl painted. It would not do, to begin stealing clothing from the castle on her way out the door. She opened her mouth to gently scold her charge for her rudeness, but just as quickly closed it again when Mrs. McCleod allowed Malvina to keep her belongings.
Malvina nodded her thanks and crossed the invisible barrier that had stood between them up until now. At the other girl's subtle gesture, Ailios turned and led her away from the castle for hopefully the final time in their lives. Malvina was coming home, back to the village where she belonged.
Malvina wasn't at supper that night. Lorna noticed but said nothing about it to her fellow maids. Her rotation for the day had been in her ladyship's chambers with Clary, nowhere near Malvina's usual rotation. She wondered if the other girl had made a mistake. Perhaps she'd been forced to go without supper again as punishment.
Lorna knew not what to think, but later that evening after she'd finished the final stitches on a bit of mending for her ladyship, she'd gone to their shared chambers and found the space empty and cold. There was no fire in the hearth. It had been Malvina's turn to light it before supper so that they may sleep warmly in their beds at night. Lorna looked around and felt an emptiness overcome her. Their chambers felt wrong somehow. Malvina was never away from her bed so late at night.
A pit had formed at the bottom of her stomach. Could Malvina have been caught by Rupert again? Or perhaps Allistor? Lorna turned to leave her chambers, to go and find Sir Sorley. Mrs. McCleod would already be tucked away in her own chambers for the night. It would not be so difficult to run up only briefly and ask after her missing friend. Mrs. McCleod need not know. It would only get Malvina thrown out, whether she'd gone to a knight's bed willingly or not. But Lorna knew — she just knew — that if Malvina had gone to bed with a knight, it would not have been of her own volition. And despite everything that had happened these last few weeks in the servants' quarters, Lorna considered the other girl her friend.
Lorna had made it just past the kitchens to the bottom of the stairwell when Mrs. McCleod called her name. She jumped, startled at the woman's unexpected presence, in the doorway of her office. Mrs. McCleod waved her over and Lorna silently obeyed the command.
"Where are you off to then?" Mrs. McCleod asked.
"I—I was only—" Lorna stuttered out. Wanting to tell the older woman that Malvina was missing but fearing the consequences that would follow for the other girl.
"If you are off to look for Malvina, you need not. Her guardian came to collect her just before luncheon. She'll be back in the village by now where she belongs. Now, if that is all... off to bed with ye." Mrs. McCleod shooed her back the way she came, and Lorna did as she was instructed.
When she returned to her chambers, she supposed she should have felt relieved. Malvina was gone. Tensions between the other maids would simmer back down. Lorna could go back to keeping to herself. She wouldn't have to share her chambers anymore either. Lorna had always kept her head down, kept at her work, and hoped to avoid further detection from the knights and the other maids of the castle. But... well... Lorna didn't know what she was feeling but she closed the door behind her. Leaned against it and let the odd sensation wash over her anyway. She looked at her own bed for a time before turning to Malvina's.
She sat on the edge of the other girl's bed. Frozen for but a moment, before turning and laying down on her side. She reached out a hand and ran her fingers over the odd lines the girl had carved into the wall. She'd seen Malvina do this dozens of times and only now did she understand that there was something oddly comforting in it. The rough stone against her overworked hands. Lorna ran her fingers over every line. There were so many. She wondered what they meant.
She didn't remember closing her eyes. Didn't remember falling asleep. She'd never set the hearth and at some point, she had dragged the blankets and furs from her bed over to Malvina's and burrowed deep under all of them. Lorna didn't sleep well that night. There was a pit inside of her at the mute girl's absence. The last she'd felt this way was the day she'd been separated from her sisters after her father died and her family lost its farm. She kept her hand pressed to the wall and wondered how long the feeling would haunt her this time.
Sorley rose from his slumber, breathing deep and stretching in the morning chill before pulling on his breeches and tunic. He poured over the reports he'd been given by one of the scouts last night, in preparation for tomorrow's patrol. Colum McRae had been spotted on the southern roads according to the reports. His lordship had brushed it off as folly, and then backtracked and insisted that even if the report were true it was insignificant. Insisting that Colum McRae was dead, and then later insisting that it mattered little if were alive. His assertions constantly shifting with the capriciousness of his mood. Sorley knew better though and had been happy to take the scout's report of his hands. Laird Suidhne cared little and allowed it. Sorley traced the locations mentioned in the report along the map he kept on his small desk.
At the sound of a bucket landing gently on the stone floor of the corridor, he folded the information away for later and made his way to his door. Turning the latch and gently pulling it open.
"Good morning, sir knight," a young red-haired maid chirped at him and offered him a flirtatious smile. Glenna, her name was. "I hope I didn't wake you."
She was polite. She'd always been polite to him. Most of the maids were. She was one of Rupert's favorites. Sorley winced at the thought and moved aside.
"No lass, you didna wake me," he said and tried not to let his discomfort at her attention show. He knew what she was looking for in him. She wouldn't be the first one. He'd done his best to keep the other knights at bay, but he regretted to say that he had not always been able to stop the castle from doing as the castle does. The maids were human collateral in a place like this. He held the door open for her to enter and exited fully once she had.
She set about lighting his hearth which he hadn't done yet in his haste to see Malvina.
"Lass," he said, turning back to her. Glenna sat a little straighter, watching him with too bright eyes. "Malvina...is she well?"
Glenna's eyes dimmed a bit at the mention of the other girl.
"Malvina?" She asked as though she couldn't be sure who he was asking about. "The mute lass?"
"Aye," he said.
"I couldn't say if she's ever been well, sir. There's been talk that she's a bit simple, ye ken."
He bit back a frustrated retort. And turned away.
"Oh, you don't say," he said, no longer fully listening to her response. And seeing no use in telling her how wrong she was. He took his leave of the maid. Allowing her to work in peace. He descended the stairs down to the servants' quarters, knocking loudly on Mrs. McCleod's door when he reached the bottom. Some of the servers and undercooks stopped their work abruptly at the noise before doubling down in their efforts to avoid the giant knight's attention.
Mrs. McCleod didn't answer so he shoved in and found the office empty. Sorley turned back the way he came, mind spinning at the possibilities, when the sight of Lorna at the other end of the corridor drew him to a stop. She eyed him nervously, her eyes were a bit puffy, and she was wringing her hands together as though she wasn't quite sure what to do with them.
"Lorna," he said in a gentle greeting. "Are you well, lass?"
She sniffed and cleared her throat.
"Oh, aye, sir. No need to worry about me, sir," she said quietly. "I wasn't sure if anyone had told you..."
"Told me what?" He asked.
"Malvina, she — well she's gone back to the village. A woman named Ailios came to collect her just before luncheon yesterday."
Addison had just pulled herself from the warmth of the hut, into the cool morning air, when she heard it. The thundering of hooves sounded from the far end of the village, and she wondered if something was wrong. She kept one ear on the sound but focused her attention instead on refashioning her braid more tightly with practiced hands. Despite all the bad stuff that had happened here — despite the fact that she'd just slept in a pile of fur on the dirt ground — Addison felt a small wave of contentment wash over her when her braid dropped heavily down her back.
She'd just turned to murmur a greeting to Ailios who had appeared in the doorway behind her when the thundering of the hooves came to an abrupt halt. Stopped just on the other side of the hill that separated them from the rest of the village.
Addison turned her wide eyes to a suspicious looking Ailios, who gestured for her kids to stay inside and keep quiet. She moved fully out in the open to stand beside Addison. The two women watched the hill with equal parts suspicion and fear, holding their breath at the sound of metal and leather that signified the presence of a knight. Just out of their view, the horse snorted at its owner, and both women drew themselves a bit taller as the shadow of a great hulking figure crested the hill. The man made his way down the path. And Addison startled, as the figure drew closer and became less a fearsome goliath, and more a wayward lion. Addison drew back. What on earth was he doing here? The sight of the errant knight sent the little spool of thread in her belly spinning wildly in his direction. Wild hair, and a giant frame, shoulders hunched just slightly as though to make himself smaller, the gentle knight approached them with a look of relief on his face. Sorley.
Addison couldn't help the way her entire body responded to seeing him again. She had lurched forward just slightly as though to go to him but held herself back. She'd thought she'd lost him for good, with her off to the village and him living at the castle. She thought that her not saying goodbye to him would have been the death knell in whatever friendship they'd developed. Had worried that he would simply forget about her. Would simply move on. But here he was in the village, seeking out her company in the quiet hours of the morning, just as he had done every day for weeks.
It had only been yesterday that she'd confessed to him all of her secrets. It had only been yesterday that he'd held her in his arms. So much had happened in such a short time and Addison felt her heart lurch at the shock of it all. So much had happened. She hadn't known how to feel about it. How to reconcile it in her mind. She'd been on autopilot since Ailios had appeared in the doorway of the laundry. Had moved through the world with an air of detachment that was disconcerting even to her. But Sorley — He jerked her out of whatever trance she'd fallen into. By sheer presence alone, Sorley pulled her back into herself, tethered her to the ground.
He stopped just a short distance away. Looking at her with grave, exasperated eyes. Opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. Looked away and shook his head before turning back to the two women in front of him. He studied Ailios for a moment, nodding at her, before snapping his gaze back to Addison. He took a breath to start again but she beat him to it. With one word, meant only for him, she said all she needed to say.
"Gallowglass."
Ailios's head snapped up in alarm at Addison's sudden use of Gaelic, but neither the girl nor the knight paid the widow any mind.
Sorley's answering smile told Addison it was all he needed to hear.
He didn't stay long at the ramshackle little hut the two women lived in. Addison knew he must have things he needed to do with his day, and now that she was not under the immediate threat of the other knights in the corridor, he had very little excuse to linger.
But he had kept them company for a while, helping Ailios with a piece of her roof that needed repair, making small talk with the young widow and her children, but always, always keeping an eye out for Addison. She tried not to let it show how much this pleased her. That he was here. All the way out at the brink of this little world they lived in. Even here, he seemed at peace. He seemed comfortable in her presence, just as he had been in the corridor.
Whatever this was between them — she caught his eye and shook her head at his continued attention — whatever it was, it was not contingent on her proximity to his chambers. He had sought her out despite the inconvenience it posed. Had lingered, under the ruse of helping Ailios and her brood, but not a single adult present was under the impression that his presence was a coincidence.
Addison had left the castle without saying goodbye. Sorley had wanted to see her again. So here he was. And here he would be again.
He never stayed long. Never lingered. Gone were the days of peaceful mornings, alone in the corridor outside his chamber. Here was something new. Something intentional, rather than convenient. He never lingered long, but he traveled a good distance every day to maintain some semblance of their cherished routine.
And people noticed. Of course, they noticed. If the walls of the Castle Sween had eyes, the people of the village put those eyes to shame. Everyone knew that there something more between the hulking gall óglaigh that served as their fierce advocate and the young foreign lass that had finally made herself useful in this place.
She had gone to the castle, sick and starving and pitiful as she was, and she had returned hardened, wizened and skillful in at least a fair few chores. They would never fully consider her one of their own. But she was Ailios's charge, and she'd finally learned how to earn her keep. The final mark in her favor? She had the favor of the man who had helped them survive the nobility for so many years.
Addison was beginning to realize that this is what Sorley did with his days. Village life. And of course, his knightly duties. He trained daily and viciously in the open fields that surrounded the village, often joined by several knights who waited on items they'd left with the blacksmith or the tanner. She was sure there was more to his life than just this — she'd seen the hints of papers and missives that he tucked away as he turned to greet every morning that she'd spent with him in the castle. He could read. That was a good sign, she had thought to herself, storing the knowledge away for later. She didn't know why it mattered really, what it would mean that he could read, but it did matter to her all the same. It was comforting to know they shared this small skill. Maybe it was a bit childish, but reading was familiar to her, and it was important to her that he could do it. That they shared something in common.
He came and went a lot. Once, even, he had gone for days as she'd known him to do from time to time when she stayed at the castle. When he returned, he hadn't stopped to greet her as she had expected him to. And she had stood alone on her little hill, watching him ride past, wide eyed and flooded with horror at the blood and gore that coated his skin. He had spared her a glance, before ducking his head away. His face far graver than she'd ever seen it.
She did not see him again that day. And the image had haunted her all night. She knew what he was, of course. But she'd never seen the evidence of it in blood. And it made her question. Made her doubt the trust she'd placed in him. Could she really trust a killer the way she trusted Sorley? She laid awake that night, haunted by the thought, and Ailios had taken one look at her the next morning and shook her head at the familiar sight of an exhausted Malvina.
But Addison didn't fall into a fitful slumber when the sun rose like she used to in the fall. She rose from their makeshift bed. Unable to go back to how useless she'd been before winter. Unwilling to close her eyes and trap her spinning thoughts in her mind where they were sure to stick. She gathered herself up, righted her dress and fixed her hair, and moved on with her day.
He had been late coming to the village that day. Addison had looked for him and didn't know if she was relieved or dismayed that he did not come. She was with Beatrix in the middle of the village, outside the old woman's hut. The old midwife was attempting to teach her about herbs. Emphasis on attempting. Her efforts had been pretty unsuccessful until that point but at least Addison could say she'd memorized the leaves of each herb she'd been introduced to. She didn't know their names, but she knew which were safe for consumption. And that was a fair bit of information to have down, she supposed.
So focused on the task at hand, she had not heard the slow approach of a horse until it stopped just near her and Beatrix. The old midwife looked up and called a warm greeting to their visitor. Addison, however, had frozen in sudden realization. Panicked. She kept her eyes steadfast on the herbs in front of her until Beatrix issued her a smack on the arm for her rudeness, and a quiet voice called her name.
"Malvina" he'd said. And she blinked a couple times to wash away the image of him coated in dark, coagulated blood. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself, looked up in fear that she would see some strange man. Some man she no longer recognized. But all she saw was Sorley. He stood before her. Lion mane wild as usual. Eyes light and knowing. He'd seen her on the hill the day before. Had known the fearsome image he struck. Had dreaded her fear, unable to meet her eyes as he rode past.
A morning spent long in counsel with his lordship and the other men at arms had exhausted him already, and there was still much day left to come. Sorley felt that tether right at the very heart of him give an impatient little tug. He was late. Late to see Malvina. The midday sun was high by the time the knights' counsel had concluded.
He was, of course, free of blood and grime now. Free of all remnants of the violence that was his trade. But he knew that her memory would not be free. That this was yet another piece of him she'd have stored away. Learning, she was always learning. Knew that inevitably she would have learned this side of him too but had hoped somewhat in vain that she'd never see it. Even just that small glimpse she'd caught in passing would be much to take in for someone such as she.
Addison had been conflicted that day. Hadn't known where to settle her mind, where to place Sorley in how she viewed and valued things in this world. She'd known what he was. Had imagined what he was capable of — had seen hints of it in the way the other knights often skirted around him when they knew they'd done wrong. Had seen it in how he handled Rupert when the man had attacked her. Had seen it in the scars that littered his body. She hadn't known where to store this new piece of information — maybe she never would — but she had settled on what she did know, what she trusted. She trusted Ailios. And Lorna. And Beatrix. And they all trusted Sorley. In her moment of doubt and fear — fear that she could be so vulnerable with a man capable of such violence — she leaned her faith most heavily on the set of his shoulders as he approached her then. Rounded and low, as though he could make himself even smaller still. She focused on the memory of him, elated and helpful as she desperately stumbled over her attempts at Gaelic. She focused, not on the memory of the gore that had dried to his skin and hardened on his armor, but on the gentle way he'd held her hand as she told him her story in a language he didn't know.
She sucked in a breath as he stood before her.
"Gallowglass," she said.
She said it like both a question posed, and an answer given. She said it like there was no easy way to process him. Because frankly there wasn't. She watched as his shoulders jerked in surprise at the word, she used only for him. He looked surprised — like he feared he'd never hear it again, and his eyes drew up to meet hers filled with an abundance of caution. She offered him a smile that called for peace. And with a deep breath of relief, he accepted.
Sorley rode down the old familiar path, this time at the front of the line of horses that returned to the castle. They'd completed yet another weeklong patrol. After the attack on a village just west of the Castle Sween that had seen Sorley, Bróccin and Lindon enter battle against a handful of rogues, Laird Suidhne had increased patrols on all fronts. There was something in the air in the greater territories, and Sorley knew, the way all veteran warriors knew, that this spring would be a violent one.
There had been whispers of discontent in the south. Rumors that needed further investigating. The scouts had reported another sighting of Colum McRae and Sorley knew not how his lordship would receive this news the second time around. Twice in one spring. So soon after the events of last summer. This did not bode well for the people of the Suidhne territories.
Bróccin was abnormally quiet behind him, no doubt planning the next steps for his family should the rogue knight return to the village to carry out yet another act of terror right beneath Laird Suidhne's nose. Sorley's horse snorted as his fist clenched tightly around her reins. He relaxed his grip. Reaching up to rub at her neck, soothing her in silent apology. It was Lindon who had not closed his mouth over the course of their ride back home. The fair-haired knight had been in a right better mood since Sorley had come to him all those weeks ago, when winter had finally thawed, and spring came to the world. Sorley had finally listened to his plans to leave this place, had finally conceded to hearing his contingencies for how best to return home. Sorley had a feeling that Bróccin may intend to make the journey with them, if his youngest were strong enough to venture so far from the village. Time would surely tell, he supposed.
A flash of blue caught his eye, and Sorley turned to look down at the foliage that covered the forest floor. He recognized them of course, the little blue flowers that littered the green underbrush in this part of the woods. This patch served as a landmark for the betwixt children, a line that said they'd ventured far enough from home. It was the line that said they must turn around and head back the way they came. But now, all he could think when he saw the deep blue petals, was that they would look beautiful tucked in Malvina's dark tresses. Without so much as a second thought, Sorley leaned over in his saddle and snatched up a handful of the delicate little flowers before snapping back up and riding on. Lindon, having witnessed this spontaneous event, sputtered and shot an incredulous question at him that he happily ignored. Bróccin broke his silence to chuckle once at his brother knight before fading back into his concern, mapping out a course of action should the spring fighting season take a turn toward the little village at the edge of the woods.
When they finally broke the tree line and entered the mouth of the village, they were greeted by the familiar sight of excitable children running to nip at their heels while the adults worked the day away in the peaceful afternoon sun.
He passed by the widow Ailios and Malvina, who were stopped outside the tanner's hut and helping Gelis with a pile of linens. He veered off toward them, ignoring Lindon's lewd commentary and Broccin's encouraging laughter. The women looked up at him. Ailios and Gelis, confused. Malvina, a bit flustered, but accustomed to his random attentions by now. She watched him with a question in her eyes. He offered the other women a polite greeting, before reaching down and handing Malvina the little bundle of blue flowers. Her face flushed, and she glanced around at the all-seeing faces of the villagers — at Ailios and Gelis who had gone slack jawed at the exchange and the little children that tittered and giggled at the forward gesture. Flustered, she looked up at him. Suddenly shy, she accepted the flowers with one carefully concealed smile, betrayed only by the appearance of one traitorous dimple. His grin stretched wide. And he couldn't help but pull himself up a little straighter with pride at having pleased her so. She watched him puff up with pride and scoffed. A brief flash of a smile. She shooed him away as though he too was a belligerent child that had strayed too far underfoot. He obeyed her silent command, smiling in a good nature at her dismissal. Sorley bowed his head at the other two women who stood still and watching the exchange, struck dumb and silent by what they had just witnessed.
With a parting, "Malvina," he clicked his tongue and urged his horse away to join his brothers on the path back to the castle.
The next day he appeared outside the little hovel she shared with Ailios. Addison was knelt beside a half-woven basket, trying, and failing to learn the technique Ailios had taught her daughter. The little girl in question was leaning over her, stern and serious, with the critical eye of an expert. It made Addison sweat, the intensity of it, but she no longer fumbled under the weight of her nerves. She'd lost that luxury while she worked in the servant's quarters. There had been no time or patience for frayed nerves or silly mistakes. She took the little girl's guidance with a fair bit of appreciation and grace. Life as a serf had taught Addison a different kind of humility. Age was not a determiner of knowledge here, and it was in everyone's best interest to learn all they could from whoever had a skill worth teaching. Ailios's little girl, almost a betwixt girl herself, wove baskets like a pro. So Addison sat there learning until the child saw fit to send her off on her own with her newfound knowledge.
At the clearing of his throat, Addison's head snapped up to meet Sorley's. His light eyes, always alert and always gentle, had haunted her mind as of late. She couldn't deny the jolt of pleasure than ran up her back at the knowledge of his return. Intimately aware that he had returned to see her. Her mind trailed back to the little blue flowers that rested safely on her makeshift bed inside the hut. She'd recognized them almost instantly; they'd been her favorite flower back home. She'd never been given flowers before. Not by anyone let alone a man she was attracted to, and she thought herself entirely too pleased with such a simple display. Addison cleared her throat and drew her attention back to the knight who stood before her.
Ailios's daughter greeted Sorley, nudging Addison with a stern hand. Her face, a perfect imitation of her mother's disapproval. It was a look Ailios wore nearly every day when interacting with Addison, and apparently her daughter had picked it up. The girl eyed her critically and gestured at Sorley. The knight in question appeared to be biting back a snort at the odd display. One stern child, scolding a grown lass into proper manners. Addison met his look with a wry one of her own, and he couldn't help the smile that cracked across his face. She set her jaw in an attempt not to smile back at him. The humor of the situation was not lost on her, but the little girl smacked her wrist nearly as frequently as her mother did and Addison did have some dignity left that she wished to maintain in front of the tawny haired knight.
She nodded at him, casting her eyes down demurely as she had been taught to do, before saying quietly and atrociously. "Good morning, sir knight," in his native tongue. Before snapping her eyes up to meet his with an air of defiance about her that was far more fitting than the politeness the women of the village had been desperately trying to instill in her.
Sorley returned her greeting with one of his own, forcing an air of sobriety that neither of them felt really. Then, as tactfully as possible, he turned to Addison's young keeper and said something in perfect, rapid Gaelic that was too fast for Addison to catch. The little girl beamed up at the great knight, rose from her place beside Addison and ducked down into a perfect little curtsy. Then she bolted up the path and over the hill to God knows where. Addison watched her go and waited until she fully disappeared before letting out a heavy sigh, shaking her head at herself and turning to Sorley with a bright and easy smile.
He made his way over, dropped down next to her and placed the basket he carried between them. She didn't know all that he said but she picked up on the word bread and felt her stomach rumble accordingly. He didn't look up at the noise, but she saw the way his smile widened, and she reached out to nudge him, in silent reproach. He turned his head, just slightly, to acknowledge her gesture. But his eyes glittered, and his smile stayed in place. He unfolded the cloth that rested in the basket and revealed the treasures hidden there. Addison felt her jaw drop at the sight of the fresh bread. Reached out and picked up the rolls, startling a bit when she realized they were still warm. Fresh from the oven. Addison, owl eyed, and disbelieving turned to stare at the smug looking knight, her hands full of more bread than she'd seen in weeks. He nodded for her to dig in and she did.
Shoving one roll into her mouth to hold it, she placed the other rolls back for now. Picking instead, a beautiful green apple and a mouthwatering hunk of cheese. Hands full, she brought them up to steady the bread in her mouth until she could bite off a piece and remove it. She ate just as ferally as she had every day since she arrived here in the past. And Sorley watched her in morbid fascination for one long moment before throwing his head back in laughter. The sound was sure to echo through the village, but Addison couldn't bring herself to care. He reached over and picked up an apple of his own, drawing his dagger and cutting it off in small slices. When she'd finally tore through her first roll, he reached out and offered her a slice of his own apple rather than the one she held in her hands. She looked down at his outstretched hand and the fruit he offered her and felt her mouth water a bit. Her chest did a weird little flip. He was sharing his food with her. This had never been the kind of thing that would have mattered to her in her past life, but now she knew that it was singularly the most attractive thing a man could do. Addison set her own apple aside, and gently accepted his offer, trying not to jump at the way their skin brushed just slightly when she took the slice from his fingers. He watched her a moment, as she brought the slice up to her lips and bit down on the fruit, before averting his gaze. Cutting another slice, Sorley looked at the tree line, more at peace than she'd ever seen him.
Addison decided she liked him like this. In the village, Sorley carried himself as though he'd finally found air worth breathing. He was able to fully settle into his own skin here. And a small part of her wished he would stay with her, just like this. Just the two of them. Forever and a day.
The women trickled back to the village in twos and threes. Sorley had spent the day helping one of the tenant farmers fix a few rotted fence posts that the horses had been kicking at over the last week. It was hard work. But it was good work too. He brushed his hands halfheartedly to clear the dirt from them, stepping back to study his handiwork and pat the older farmer on the back in solidarity. The man bid him farewell with an abundance of thanks and one too many bows. Sorley waved him off and made his way over to his horse who conveniently had wandered over to graze on the hill near Ailios's little hut at the edge of the wood.
He clicked his tongue at his steed and watched as the obstinate little mare flicked her tail at him in annoyance, urging him to beg off and leave her to her peaceful grazing. He laughed and watched as her ear twitched toward the sound. Muttered a soft word of reassurance to her and she snorted her disbelieving response. That was fair enough, he supposed, unsurprised when the horse turned her back fully to him so as to present him more soundly with her belligerent backside. Sorley rolled his eyes and left her be, ducking down near the entry of Ailios's hut. The widow poked her head out at his approach, wet hair neatly plaited and hanging over her shoulder, her narrowed eyes softened a bit when she saw it was him.
"Peace, Ailios," he said. "How have you fared these last weeks of spring? Have you all that you need here?"
She studied him a moment, her easy smile falling into a knowing smirk.
"Oh, aye, sir knight. We've more than we need here to get by for now. How have you fared these past weeks since the end of winter?"
The arch of her eyebrow told Sorley that he had perhaps not been as subtle as he thought he'd been since Malvina had returned to the village. Abashed, he cleared his throat. Opened his mouth to recover but then closed it again. Nothing he could say would sound like anything other than an excuse. And she would see through it for the lie that it was.
"I'll have you know," she said. "Malvina isna like the lasses that crawl in and out of the knights' beds up at the castle. I know not what arrangement the two of you had while she was stuck behind those walls—"
Sorley felt himself rankle at that. It made sense that Ailios would think something amiss. After all, it was the way of Castle Sween. But he wished it wasn't on her mind. Not about him.
"There was nothing between myself and Malvina during the winter months," he said. Slow and serious so that the widow would understand that he spoke true. She eyed him suspiciously. Weary and regretful. She was caught between her knowledge of the world of men, and her steadfast loyalty to the knight before her.
"I wish to see her well, Ailios. All that I have ever asked, is that she fares well. My own desires on the matter of Malvina may be full, but my intentions are as pure as there can be between a man and a woman. Peace. I beg you."
The hard lines around Ailios's eyes and mouth disappeared. She studied him a moment longer before letting out a long, begrudging sigh.
"The women have finished bathing. Malvina is at the embankment where we do our washing. She should be there still with Beatie and Gelis. If you're looking for a moment to steal just between the two of you, now would be the time to do so."
Sorley nodded his thanks and stood to make his way into the wood, calling for his horse to follow. He'd just made it to the tree line when Ailos called out once more.
"Sir knight," she said. "She's a good lass, but I — I cannae have another hungry mouth to feed after her. You're a good man. I beg you be certain of your intentions before you pursue her any further."
"I understand," he said.
Addison's hair was still wet and dripping down the back of her dress when she hefted her basket of laundry up on her hip. It was much easier now to carry such a heavy burden than it had been in those early days when she'd first arrived. It was easier now even in comparison to the frozen days of winter at the castle, hauling bucket after bucket up each narrow set of spiraled stairs. Washing in the river was always hard, but it was almost liberating compared to the chores she'd had to carry out at the Castle Sween. At least here — Addison sighed and cast one final glance at the view of the river, and the green trees that surrounded her on all sides — at least here the sky was blue, and the air was sweet and still. At least here, work was completed in the beautiful natural world rather than behind the dark, cold stone of the castle walls.
She hefted her basket a little higher on her hip and turned to make her way back to the village before jumping back in surprise. There just some feet away, with his bored looking horse and a sheepish look on his face, was the errant knight, Sorley.
Addison looked up at him, wide eyed for a moment before swiveling her head around to look for Gelis and Beatie. She found them just on the tree line, a good distance away, giggling quietly to themselves and sending her teasing waves. Addison felt her jaw drop at their audacity. They just stranded her there with Sorley. Holy hell, those two chatterboxes were going to tell everyone. The gossip would be atrocious. Addison closed her eyes and bit back a laugh at their antics. She had to admit, it would all be worth it to have him to herself for once, like they were back in their little corridor rather than under the watchful eyes of an entire village. She opened her eyes again, smiling at the hulking gall óglaigh who had hunched his shoulders down again when he noticed that he'd startled her.
With a huff, Addison dropped her basket on the ground, hefted her skirts up a bit so she didn't trip and picked her way carefully over to him. He cocked his head to the side and studied her curiously before Addison brought her palms up to rest on his shoulders. His eyebrows shot up in alarm, but he didn't move back. She applied pressure and just as quickly as his eyebrows had shot up, they dropped down, furrowed in confusion. He took a step back, but she shook her head and grabbed onto his tunic so he couldn't go any farther. She reached around, put one hand on his back and kept the other firmly pressed to his chest before physically straightening him up to his full height.
"There," she said in her own language. "Honestly, stop slouching, I'm not afraid of you and I'm not worth the back pain, my dude."
He didn't know what she was saying. But he was holding himself to his full height, easily falling back into the way he naturally carried himself through this world. Malvina looked incredibly pleased with herself at this, and Sorley thought he understood. The metal in her eyes glinted and he concluded that there was nothing more miraculous in this world than she was. If all it took for her to adopt such a look of pride, was for him to hold himself to height as he was born to do, then Sorley would happily appease her.
Nodding to herself resolutely at a job well done, Addison turned back to her laundry basket and lifted it up once again. Making her way back to Sorley, she smiled and gestured for him to lead the way back to the village. When he simply stood there, blocking the path with a raised eyebrow and a wry look in his eye, she turned and made her way around him. Only to find that he'd reached out a hand to stop her.
Confused, Addison looked up at Sorley's exasperated face and then down to his outstretched hands. Oh. He wanted to carry her basket. She looked between the insistent knight and her heavy burden, conflicted. But just a glance at his stern face told her the man was adamant, and once again Addison was struck by how much she truly didn't want to carry the heavy basket all the way back through the woods and to the village by herself anyway. Struck by how much it pleased her that Sorley would carry the heavy load so that she didn't have to. With a shrug and a great beaming grin, Addison happily handed her burdens over to the great behemoth of a knight and felt herself preen a bit at the self-satisfied look that crossed over him. If all it took to please him, was to hand him stuff to carry, she would have no problems spending time with him at all.
He was holding court in the middle of the village again. Addison rolled her eyes at him good naturedly, allowing herself a small laugh at his expense, when one of the village children accidentally clothes-lined him with their makeshift spear. He took it well enough. Laughing and scolding the child all at once, before kneeling down and showing the young one how to properly wield such a weapon. Then, after properly grooming the child to one day become another hypermasculine killing machine, he sent the kid scampering back to terrorize their mother as she completed her daily tasks. Addison didn't need to look in the direction of the child and his mother to know that the aggravated shouting that sounded behind her was coming from them.
Sorley turned back to the men who had gathered around him. Today he was perched on a stool outside the tanner's hut. The blacksmith's apprentice had stopped by earlier and she had watched him walk off in an angry huff after catching up on whatever gossip the men shared and called news.
Ailios snapped at her to focus, and Addison cringed when she realized she had let the fur she'd been beating fall partly into the fire. She gasped and dropped the fabric into the dirt. Aggressively stamping at the flames while Ailios grumbled at her for her distraction. Addison coughed, embarrassed to have made such a mistake in the first place, let alone at having been caught. She whispered an apology to Ailios in Gaelic, cringing a bit at her pronunciation but delighting in her success when her guardian's scolding softened at her use of the common tongue.
Ailios's glare lost some of its ferocity and she muttered a silent command for Addison to get back to work before she set the whole village alight. Okay, so maybe Addison had improvised her interpretation of Ailios's words a bit there, but there was no way the woman wasn't thinking some version of that.
Addison brushed nervously at the burnt ends of the pelt that she'd nearly ruined beyond repair. Before holding the fur up high on one arm, so she could beat it with the other, stick in hand. Trying to get the burnt bits out, as well as the dirt that had collected when she'd stamped out the flames. She was only a few good swings in when the sound of feet sprinting across dry earth met her ears. A breathless voice.
"Malvina."
Beatie stood behind her. Dress covered in dirt from whatever game she'd been playing with her younger siblings. The betwixt girl's hair was half fallen from her braid. Out of breath, she held out a hand. Fist clenched around something.
Addison, for her part, eyed the younger girl's fist with a good amount of suspicion. Since she'd returned from the castle, a new and improved Malvina, the village had seen her usefulness and accepted her more readily. This came with several wonderful initiation ceremonies from the children who no longer feared she was a fae creature come to steal them from their beds. She still shuddered at the mouse they'd snuck into her pocket while she collected firewood. Beatie shook her outstretched hand for her to take what she held out, but Addison knew better than to fall for it and shook her head. She raised a skeptical eyebrow and put both her hands on her hips.
Beatie, recognizing her suspicion, rolled her eyes as though it was Addison who suffered from some serious audacity rather than Beatie herself. Addison narrowed her eyes. With a huff, Beatie set off speaking at a mile a minute. Too fast for Addison to understand.
Ailios broke into their conversation behind her. Speaking slowly, and deliberately to Beatie in a manner that Addison could follow.
"Slow down, Beatie. Slowly for Malvina."
Beatie eyed the widow as though she was wondering if she could get away with her continued sass. Whatever she saw there, suggested not.
Looking Addison in the eye, Beatie opened her fist for the older girl to see what she held in her hand.
"From," she said. Punctuating the word 'from' with no small amount of attitude. "Sorley." She gestured back toward the man who still sat huddled with the village men outside the tanner's hut. Addison followed her gaze and jumped when he looked up when she did. Only briefly. The other men didn't notice. But even from a distance she could see the glimmer in his eye, and the short nod, before he turned back to his conversation.
Addison tore her eyes from him. Stomach fluttering at his attention and at the object that rested in Beatie's hand.
It was a black leather cord. At the very end of it, a small metal object. Almost like a coin. She wasn't sure if it was or not. Come to think of it, Addison hadn't seen actual money of any kind in all the time she'd been here in this time and place. She reached out and gently pulled the object from Beatie's hand.
"Thank you, Beatie." She said, stuttering a bit around Beatie's name. The other girl, for all her attitude, didn't seem to mind Addison's fumble. She still remembered the older girl's sacrifice the day they were attacked by a boar in the woods all those months ago. For all her sass — the girl was only acting her age — she liked Malvina very much.
Sorley watched the young boy run back to his mother to terrorize the poor woman who was bent over a half-skinned rabbit. He had stopped in at the tanner to inquire about the cord he'd commissioned the other day, ducking in and calling out a quick greeting before stepping out to wait for the man to spare him his time. After being nearly felled by a wayward child, Sorley made his way back over to the stool set off to the side of the building and perched himself casually on it. He watched the comings and goings of the village and felt an air of peace settle over him. For now, at least, all was well. It would not remain so, not with the news he was hearing from scouts on every front, but for now the village ambled along quietly and contentedly through each of its days.
As though the man had a sixth sense about these things, Old Man MacPhearson appeared and made his way easily over to Sorley. Leaning against the wall of the hut the tanner was working in, the old village spokesman uttered a low greeting, taking a swig from his waterskin and extending it to Sorley so that the knight may too drink his fill. Sorley took a cursory swig, out of respect for the offer, before passing it along to the mason and a few of the tenant farmers that had gathered around him.
"Alright there, Sorley?" the mason asked.
"Oh aye," he replied.
"Rumor says the roads are getting riskier with each passing day," MacPhearson said.
"Aye, they are."
"Any word on ol' Colum then?" A tenant farmer asked.
Sorley looked up darkly, taking a deep breath before leaning forward and shaking his head. "Aye," he said truthfully. "Aye, two reports. Spotted to the south of us — on the borderlands between the Suidhne and Campbell territories."
"And that lord of yours — what says he?" The blacksmith's apprentice bit out. Sorley shot him a warning look that he may mind his tongue. The young man met his look obstinately, and MacPhearson reached over and smacked him over the back of his head.
"Mind your tongue, boy. This village is loyal to his lordship just the same as Sir Sorley."
"His lordship cares little for the likes of us," the apprentice's eyes flashed with the defiance of youth. If times had been different, this would not have made Sorley so weary. But he'd seen boys younger than this lad lose life and limb for saying far less, and he did not wish to witness yet another innocent death at the hands of the nobility. Not over a poor choice of words.
He opened his mouth to say as much but the boy cut him off. He minded neither the presence of the knight seated before him, nor his village elder, nor the other tenants and tradesmen that lingered about. It was no secret that most of the men of the land hated the lord with a passion. It was no secret that young boys in these times grew up dreaming of violent acts of justice and revenge. The highlands were a cruel place to be for a highlander when the Norman rulers were about. Sorley saw the young man's rage. Saw it and recognized it as something of his own. They were of the same people. The same blood that had fought and died on this land for centuries. Sorley himself was of a mixed parentage. A mixed identity. He was both victim and culprit. Both invader and resistance fighter. He looked at this young Scottish lad and saw who he would have been if he had not the other half of himself — the Viking half as given by his father.
"Don't sit here — tired old men that you are — and speak to me of justice and what is right. I will not mind my tongue, not over this. Look where that's gotten us so far—" the boy ran an aggravated hand through his hair. "You say they've spotted that old traitorous bastard in the south?"
Sorley arched an unamused eyebrow but nodded.
"Then kill him. Take your axe and do what must be done." There was a chorus of grumbles and chuckles and a series of harsh scolding words for the boy from his elders. "I'd do it. I'd kill him."
Sorley opened his mouth but when the boy moved to cut him off again, he shot him a sharp look that had him minding his tongue for the first time since the men had gathered.
"You'll be doing no such thing. I see your anger. I respect it." The boy scoffed and went to say more but Sorley growled out a warning for him to keep his trap shut while he was speaking, and the lad did as he said. "But your recklessness. Your recklessness would not only get you killed—"
"I'd give my life for justice—"
"It would get the rest of the village killed as well."
"They wouldn't do—"
"Oh aye, they would. I've seen it. They'd kill you and they'd run havoc through every hut, hovel and home in this village. They'd drag all the men and women out of their homes. Rape the lasses. Interrogate the widows. Torture the men. None would make it out unscathed."
"Colum McRae—" the boy tried once again to intervene.
"That traitorous bastard is the very proof of what I am telling you lad. What he did here last summer — the reaving and raping and burning. All of it. Just him and a handful of rogue men that live in the woods. They nearly destroyed your entire home. Disorganized and reckless as they were. This village couldna withstand an organized attack ordered by a laird. There would be no mercy. No justice. Just death and destruction all over your poor choice of words. You saw what that traitor did. Saw the sacrifice Ailios and her husband made, God rest his soul. Now, you cry for revenge. You come to me now and say you're willing to take your revenge. You would renounce the lord of your land, in front of one of the very knights who swore their fealty to him, and then ask that your village and family be spared? I am honor bound to cut your tongue at the root, boy, for the way you have spoken before me just now."
The apprentice stared at him angry and defiant and near about ready to piss himself in fear. But Sorley just held his eye for a moment longer before he waved him away, brushing off the lad's stuttering apology before moving on to talk of news and strategy. Mapping out with the others, their best courses of action should the village once again fall into the terrible hands of Colum McCrae.
The tanner joined them shortly after the blacksmith's young apprentice left, holding out the black leather cord for the knight to take and rejecting his offer of payment.
"Payment enough, Sorley, if you knock some sense into that lad before he gets himself killed."
"That's a job for the blacksmith, not me," Sorley replied easily once again extending his coin.
"It would be better if it came from you, I'm afraid," the tanner knew that the blacksmith had said all he could to rein the boy in. Now, it would be up to the knight to strike the fear of death and retribution into the lad lest he get himself executed for his treason.
He said as much, and Sorley felt yet another weight settle on his shoulders. Rolled his neck at the sensation and carried on as though it didn't bother him in the slightest to have it there.
He listened as the men continued to detail the state of the food stores and the progress, they were making on the spring harvest when a group of Bróccin's weans ran past, chased by his eldest girl Beatie. He called her over, passed her the cord.
"Take this to Malvina," he said and pointed to where the object of his affections was treating a series of pelts with her guardian, the widow Ailios. Beatie nodded her understanding and did as he bade her. He tuned back into the conversation, keeping one eye on Beatie and Malvina as he did. Looking up at the dark-haired lass when Beatie pointed over at him.
Malvina's hair was loose and falling from her braid. Her skin had finally regained some of its natural coloring in the warmth of the spring sun. She had one fur held in her hand, and he wondered idly if she'd been able to beat the burnt smell out of the corner, she'd accidentally set alight. He smiled quietly to himself and shook his head at her serious lack of situational awareness. Grey linen dress billowing in the slight breeze, Malvina turned her gaze on him and stared, a curious look in her liquid metal eyes.
He held her gaze but for a moment and watched as she clutched the cord tight in her hand pulling it closer to her person as though she held something precious there. He turned away lest he display his distraction for all to witness, silently pleased that she had accepted the small token of his affections.
They fell into a rhythm then. The whole village did really. Fell into the ebb and flow of life under the full light of the bright sun. The world was vast and green again in a way that Addison had never known. Through Sorley she learned to see the beauty in this once terrifying place. She saw him less and less as the days passed and the men at arms rode out more and more. Something was happening out there in the places beyond her small little world. Something was happening and Sorley rode out often to meet it. To face it head on. It was more and more common for her to see him riding back through the village with large swathes of fearsome looking knights on angry looking steeds, covered in bits of gore and dirt. She was almost numb to it now what with the frequency it occurred.
But he always carved a space out for her. Every day that he was home, he made time to see her even if just for a moment. He spoke to her, seriously, truthfully, under the cover of the trees while she gathered firewood or berries. He'd sit with her while she mended tunics or dresses. She'd grown accustomed to the rhythmic ebb and flow of his brogue as he confided in her his deepest secrets, worries and fears. The things that kept him awake at night. And she too did the same, in her own tongue. Trusting each other. Silently caring for each other and offering support so desperately needed. They created their own kind of home. Not within any walls or borders, not in so many words, but in each other. In each other, they carved a safe place to land, and they fell into it time and again.
He continued to bestow on her small gifts and favors, and she continued to accept them for the kindnesses that they were. She continued to trust him. Encourage him in every way she could. And she gave back in her own ways too. He'd taken to bringing her his tunics for mending and she did so happily and with care. Glad that Glenna or Abigall wouldn't have their vicious little paws on his things in her absence. It was small, and part of her cringed at the traditional exchange of favors, but Addison couldn't bring herself to care. The feminist in her told her only to survive. And the girl in her, the girl that was quickly passing the point of no return when it came to Sorley, wanted to do this small thing to express her care. To express...not love exactly... but something of the sort, something that suggested one day it very much would be love.
They were seated underneath their tree. Just a ways away from the bank of the river, hiding away from Ailios and Bróccin and all the other knights and villagers that would remind them of their responsibilities. A moment of peace. They hadn't seen each other in a whole week. This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened.
Sorley was a knight, after all, who left frequently on patrols or to settle minor conflicts in the surrounding area, but despite their practiced hand at being apart, this had been the most agonizing separation yet. Before he'd been called away, Sorley had stolen her away for a quiet moment together in the absence of Ailios and her brood. Had boldly tucked a flower in her hair and ran gentle hands down the sides of her face and the column of her neck. It had been a bold, intimate embrace. And they quickly tore themselves apart at the sound of an approaching horse. Lindon crested the hill not a moment later, calling for Sorley to prepare to ride out. Sorley reluctantly stepped away from Malvina at his friend's urging but froze when she surged forward, uncaring about Lindon's presence or Sorley's surprise. She launched her arms around him and pressed her face tightly into his chest, pausing there when his arms came down to wrap around her. He held her tightly for too short a time, and she had wrapped her hands into the fabric of his tunic as thought to ask him not to go. He murmured her name, brought one hand to tap gently at her chin. Malvina looked up at him, allowed him to press his forehead gently to hers. He stared into her eyes, a million words on the tip of his tongue, words she would never understand before he pulled away and followed Lindon back to the castle.
Now, here they were. A week later. Sorley had returned scratched, and bruised but altogether unharmed compared to some of the other men who had arrived back with him. He'd cleaned up, spent the next day stowed away with the knights and nobles of the Castle Sween discussing the growing trends of violence to the south, and the instagatory tactics of Colum McRae and his band of rogue knights and reavers. When he'd finally been released from his counsel with Laird Suidhne, Sorley stole away to the village, seeking his desperately needed peace in a stolen moment with Malvina.
She'd welcomed him home with relieved eyes and a small, sympathetic smile. Sympathy. It would have made him laugh. He couldn't remember the last time any one had shown him such a courtesy. Couldn't remember the last time he thought he needed it. But Malvina's sympathy warmed him and set him to rights. He'd come to crave it over the last few weeks of spring.
He'd taken her hand gently in his own, squeezed it in gratitude and stolen her away to the woods the moment the rest of the villagers stopped looking in his direction. Ailios was away helping Beatrix with a difficult birth. Her weans were off with Beatie, and her siblings, wreaking havoc on Bróccin's wife. The rest of the village was off seeing to their own affairs. Sorley and Malvina quietly slipped away.
With a tired look in his eyes, he had asked for her time. Not in so many words, but in that quiet way they had between them. The silent way they'd grown to know each other. When he'd taken her by the hand and led her toward the line of trees that bordered their small little world, Addison followed him willingly.
Accustomed to their little adventures through the green of the wood, she was beginning to think she'd follow him wherever he asked her to go. It was a dangerous thing to realize about herself, this willingness to put her trust so fully in some man she'd met when she was alone and vulnerable in the world. But he was still her best thing, and if Addison knew anything about the occupants of the Castle Sween, she knew her peaceful existence in the village would be short lived. Eventually the rest of the world would come knocking. She only hoped that when the moment came, she would have Sorley by her side.
They made their way to the tree they'd happily claimed as their own, took shelter beneath its towering limbs. Addison perched herself on one great gnarled root raised high off the ground, welcoming Sorley's company as he ducked down to sit beside her. Made herself comfortable and listened with half lidded eyes as he began to confide whatever it was that needed saying. She didn't know what he'd seen out in the world beyond the borders of the village. She didn't know what the missives and letters said that he always kept carefully concealed on his person. She didn't know what burdens truly rested on his shoulders. But she could listen as he unloaded them. The soft rumble of his voice washed over her. Addison lazily reached over to pluck a weed from the forest floor, twirling it around in her fingers as he spoke. Occasionally she would look up up at an appropriate moment — when he paused or when his tone shifted. With just a look she silently acknowledged that she was still here. That she was listening. When he finished whatever, it was that he needed to say, Addison looked over to him with a question in her smile.
"Are we good?" She asked.
He watched her with tired eyes. Eyes that had calmed with the release of his burdens. Grateful to her for the role she played. He shook his head at her. She scrunched her forehead back, unable to read past his nerves. He was watching her in earnest. She frowned, twirled the weed one more time between her fingers and held it out to him. A rather haphazard token of her care, she knew, but Sorley accepted it nonetheless. He mimicked the way she twirled the little flower while she listened to him. Spun it rapidly in his fingers, his expression wry. Sorley looked from Addison to the little green plant and back. Looked at her as though she held the key to life's deepest mysteries.
He said something. His voice low. Hopeful. There was a question. No — not a question. A request. He looked exceedingly vulnerable before her. Sorley carefully handled the plant she'd given him, set it down on the root of the tree. Reaching forward, he clasped both of her hands in his own and repeated his question. Whatever it was.
"Sorley—" she frowned and shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand. I—"
He spared her one dismayed look before standing up and stepping away. Scratching his head and turning back to her, eyes just as sheepish as they always were when he did something incredibly boyish and endearing. He took a step back in her direction. Spreading his hands out wide between them, repeating himself. Adding more to the end of his question. He spoke slowly as though it would help her understand, but still she couldn't. His face was soft. Open. Trusting. Sorley was placing his trust in her with something. With this question he kept repeating and rephrasing.
Addison hauled herself up, off the root of the tree. Carefully moved over to him through the underbrush. Didn't bother with trying to save her skirts from the twigs and bushes that pulled at the hems. She drew closer to him, watching his mind work faster and faster as she approached. Watched it spin as he tried to find another way to convey what he so desperately needed her to understand. It was a miraculous thing, Sorley's mind. This, she chose wholeheartedly to believe. His mind was always working. Always working through something. Now, it was working once again to bridge the gap between them. Desperately trying to think its way around the barriers between them, to draw them even closer together.
Then he came back to her, his eyes startling and clear. Sorley reclaimed her hands. Cradled them in his own. He whispered her name.
Sorley didn't know how to convey what he was asking of her. He'd brought her here to their tree. The place where they could share whatever they wanted, in whichever language they wanted, safe from prying ears. It was here that they could exist together and not have to worry about the thoughts and pressures that pressed in on them from the outside world. Here, Sorley could just be a man. Not a knight serving a terrible lord, in a terrible place with brothers who committed atrocities in the name of honor. And Malvina could just be a woman. Not a foreign serf girl with an odd manner of speaking and not a penny to her name.
He didn't know how to convey what he was asking of her. He'd seen enough these last few weeks, of the world that was quick to come knocking on Lord Suidhne's door. Had seen the escalation. The advances. He knew intimately what would come next. The brutal acts that would come down on the territories before the summer was through. The highlands were calling for blood, and Sorley was called to respond as he was honor bound to do, but he'd not have Malvina in the midst of it all. Not her. Never her. There was only one way he could think to keep her safe. One way to safeguard this thing that existed between them. All his days away and the tether in his chest agonized at the distance, jerked him defiantly back in the direction of home, back in the direction of the dark-haired lass that had captured his heart and his mind.
He would have her. Have her as his, forever and a day. If only he could tell her so. Malvina stared up at him, bronze eyes bright and searching. Searching for some answer in him that he could not provide. He had not the words. He— he wished so desperately—
"Malvina," he tried again. Took her hands in his own. Clasped them between his and held them there. He held her gaze and dropped down before her. With nothing left to give — no words that would suffice to say - Sorley gave to her the only thing he knew how to give. As he had done only once before in his life, mistakenly and in his haste to serve an ill befitted lord, Sorley bent the knee. He knelt before the lass who had captivated him so and swore to her his fealty — body and blade. He gave her all that he had to give as a gall óglaigh and hoped that somewhere inside her she understood that it was all of him. He hoped his whole self would be enough for her. That she would take him body and soul, for as long as they both should live.
Liquid metal eyes poured into his own, all-consuming, and alight with a sudden understanding. She took him in, bowed before her, holding her hands in his as though they were his only way back up from the ground on which he kneeled.
A long, steady beat of silence.
It vibrated between them. This dark-haired lass. Malvina, the fury. Malvina, the muse. And Sorley the errant knight. Sorley, the gentled giant. Gentled and humbled as he could ever possibly be.
When Malvina moved, she moved slowly. In a careful manner, she extracted her hands from his. He sucked in one agonized breath. Allowing himself just one moment of heartache as he prepared to receive her rejection with all the grace he could muster. Closed his eyes but for a moment and opened them just as quickly when he felt both of her hands come down to rest on either side of his face.
She'd taken one step forward, just enough that there was not an inch between them and knelt down in front of him. Malvina joined him where he kneeled. Captivating. She was captivating. Malvina held his gaze, brushed gentle thumbs over his cheekbones. Soft as the brush of heather against his skin, she caressed his face. Studied him until she'd taken her fill. Satisfied with whatever she saw there, Malvina leaned forward until her forehead rested resolutely against his own. Steady and calm. He held her gaze, awed by her closeness, by the way her eyes flickered even in the shadow of the darkening woods. She closed her eyes while he studied her. A soft breath escaped her lips, brushing against his own.
Then, subtly — so subtly he nearly missed it — Malvina nodded. She nodded and opened her eyes and looked at him in a manner so fierce there could be no question. She understood. She understood what he asked of her. And she agreed.
Sorley felt his palms tingle with the urge to reach out for her. Hold her to him and stay this way. The knight took a deep steadying breath. The tether that bound them together fell slack in quiet relief. He let out a disbelieving laugh. His smile came easy. Eyes fell to her lips. Heart stuttering at the temptation, but he wouldn't dare be so forward. Not so soon after she'd placed such trust and care in him.
Sorley pulled back, reluctant, shaking his head in disbelief that this had worked. She understood that he wanted her. She wanted him too. Malvina remained where she was, eyes full of an endearing mixture of trust and something else he could not name. She was half dazed with the desire for his continued closeness, and half aware of the magnitude of her promise. She agreed. Knew what she had agreed to as far as he could tell. It made her nervous, he could see it there lying just behind the metal in her eyes. No, Sorley could not kiss her now. Not now when this was so new and so vulnerable. He would wait until she was ready. He did, however, allow himself one thing.
With every ounce of care he could manage, Sorley brought one callused palm up to gently cradle her cheek. Tingling at the feeling of her skin, soft and smooth, resting so easily in his own. Sorley marveled at Malvina, who leaned into his embrace willingly, and ran his thumb over her cheek before pulling away and standing up. Offering her a hand as he did.
They stared at each other a moment longer, neither fully capable of understanding this thing that passed between them. Neither of them yet able to comprehend the tether that bound him to her like an anchor bound a ship, nor the invisible spool of thread that unwound from her belly in constant search of him no matter the distance between.
They stayed together, in the quiet of the darkening wood. Frozen. Suspended in place and time. Not sure how they'd gotten there but unwilling to go back the way they came. Neither willing to unravel what had already been spun, Sorley and Malvina quietly agreed to each other. Quietly swore themselves to forever and a day.
