Elizabeth came to herself, covered head to toe by a blanket. Odd, that had never happened before. She then heard Fitzwilliam and Georgiana close by. She burned a blush, mortified beyond reason. She sat up quickly, wrapping the blanket securely around her. It lay over her head like a cloak, and dangled to her feet. Her face was hot red as she walked to them, not knowing where camp was.
"Lady Hawk!" Georgiana smiled at her in greeting, "the Captain is finally helping us!" Georgiana looked so happy. Elizabeth smirked at the girl's enthusiasm, but the relief in her voice also made sense. Will fighting made the problem ten times worse. But with him on their side, he would carry them wherever they wished.
"I'm glad to hear it, Georgi," Elizabeth said endearingly, making the girl glow with pride. Fitzwilliam also smiled at Georgiana.
"Come sweet one, we'll tell you the plan over fire and food," he said, moving towards the camp.
"You should have seen the Captain," Georgiana said walking along with them, "he was so infuriated after we said we lost the sword. It was as if he were Sampson ready to tear down the palace walls! One more moment and he would have taken my head clean off!"
"What?" Elizabeth said, aghast., She hadn't expected him to fall apart that much. "But I'm sure he likes you!"
"What Georgiana neglected to tell you is that she accused Will of not loving you as much as himself. That, my girl, is when he crossed into the fiery rage," Fitzwilliam smiled at Georgiana. Elizabeth felt mixed emotions.
How dare he hurt a friend? But Will was obviously struggling. He still loved her dearly it would seem.
But what had happened to his temper?
"He loves you more than life itself," Fitzwilliam told her with a smile.
"A truer thing has never been spoken, miss!" Georgiana grinned, "the only thing keeping him going is the thought of you. He does nothing but to make life easier for you or to break the curse."
Elizabeth, again, burned hot with embarrassment, and a little trepidation. She hadn't seen the man for two years and if all went well, she would be his wife again tomorrow! How could she stand in the face of such ardent love? What if she had changed and was not what he remembered?
They came up to the camp. Fitzwilliam' cart rattled and shook with the anger of a wolf trapped in a cage on the cart. A blanket had been torn to shreds inside the cage. He snarled and barked at them angrily. Gnawing on the bars of the cage.
Elizabeth walked to the cart and fished out some dried meat for him. He snapped it up greedily, eyeing her suspiciously. He truly did not recall her for some time after his change.
The wolf barked at her again as she was finding her clothes. Georgiana threw him some rabbit that Elizabeth knew Will had caught for them. He snapped that up as well.
After Elizabeth was presentable, the wolf had calmed some. He was still offended within the cage. He chewed on the bars unless one of them scolded him. His ears were pinned back, utterly disgruntled. He kept turning his amber eyes to her and whining, to make sure she knew how unpleasant he found the whole situation.
It made Elizabeth sure to not let him out, for the only reason he was trapped was because he had allowed himself to be. She wanted to let him out though. The dear creature was being ridiculous and adorable. The wolf huffed loudly.
Fitzwilliam and Georgiana explained the plan to her. Georgiana would go through the under-city water system and into the cathedral. She would unlock it from there inside for Will. Elizabeth disliked the idea of Georgiana going off for so long alone. What if something befell her? Her dear little friend would be all alone!
Georgiana and Fitzwilliam didn't seem to think too much on it. They bickered back and forth, arguing good naturedly. Fitzwilliam had a bellowing laugh that shook the trees. Elizabeth had been in silence and darkness for so long that his laugh took some getting used too.
They three passed the night in a sort of happiness. She felt contentment from companionship. But she was not whole. Her favorite companion was trapped in a cage, and a curse. She felt the same heart squeezing ache from missing him.
Soon, it was time to leave. Fitzwilliam went to Goliath to walk behind the cart. Elizabeth brought Georgiana close for a tight hug
"Good luck, Georgi. We'll see you soon," she said, kissing her cheek. Georgiana smiled shyly at the open affection, but gave her a smile.
"You don't need to worry about me, Elizabeth. I'll see you in the cathedral soon! " she smiled as she sat to hide next to the wolf. Elizabeth smiled. She covered the pair and pulled her hood up. She sat up on the front bench with Fitzwilliam and they rattled off.
To say she would be terrified was putting it mildly. Two years of near solitude had made her trickery out of practice. She was sure to fumble and be at a loss at just the sight of another person. Let alone a soldier asking pointed questions. She resolved to let Fitzwilliam do all the talking.
Soon, they were at the city moat. Otherworldly dread filled her stomach. A symptom she had not prepared for and one that made her feel heavy. Fitzwilliam pulled the cart to a stop by the water, letting Georgiana hop out.
"Remember, the cul-de-sac's by the great north wall," he said. They heard Georgiana's chirp of affirmation as they left her and continued to the drawbridge.
The last time Elizabeth had crossed this bridge was a black night as well. She had Will then and they were escaping. Now, she was crawling back into the devil's den. Her hands started to shake and she felt like she was about to throw up. They'd come full circle, and she was horrified at what could happen next.
Fitzwilliam forced his mule across the bridge and through the gate. The mule was so slow and uncooperative that Elizabeth nearly jumped off the cart and pulled it herself.
"Halt," a guardsman said, walking up to them. Elizabeth nearly jumped from her skin. Would she be recognized? She hadn't even put a disguise on! Just a flimsy blanket as a hood! She was going to be the weak link to get them all killed! She gripped her hands on her lap to keep from running.
"What have we here, little father?" the man said to the preist.
"Oh, a surprise present, my son," Fitzwilliam said easily, with a bit of excitement, "for His Grace the Bishop, from the people of my parish." The guardsman had walked around and thrown off the blanket on Will's cage. The wolf snarled viciously, barking and growling with hatred.
"A fine pelt for his wall!" Fitzwilliam declared. Elizabeth was nearly nauseous remembering the times Will was nearly a pelt.
"What have we here?" the man said, ripping the blanket from Elizabeth's head. She nearly fell backward off the cart.
Will thrashed and beat himself against the cage, snarling like a hell hound. The noise surprised the man away from Elizabeth, and he drew his sword.
"I've never had the pleasure of killing a wolf before!" he said. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam exchanged horrified looks.
"How strange!" Fitzwilliam cried, the fake excitement lost from his voice, "that's exactly what the Bishop said! I'm sure he'll understand you depriving him of that pleasure. He's a very forgiving sort of man." Elizabeth would have laughed, if she wasn't so sick with fear. The wolf still spat and lunged at the man.
"Very well," the man said after an eternity, "pass on." Elizabeth drew up her hood again to hide her violent emotions.
"Wisdom is beyond price, my son, be grateful that you have it," Fitzwilliam said, nodding at the fellow.
They walked through into the city which she had feared for so long. She looked down the streets that were so familiar, but ruined. Fires littered the filthy streets. People moved in the shadows in a nefarious manner. There was a still, unpleasant hush in the city that hadn't been there before.
Guardsmen wandered the streets, taking what they liked and beating for reasons unknown. No one looked up at them, and the whispers were dead. People slept in the streets with whatever they could find. The fires along the city walls made it feel very hellish.
She looked over to see Fitzwilliam' hand shaking as he whipped the mule too many times. She reached over and grabbed his hand. He must have felt the darkness in the city as well. He caught her eye and nodded, easing in his seat.
They moved covertly and swiftly to Fitzwilliam's old home. He was sure it was unused. They rolled up to the back door, and Fitzwilliam slid off of the cart. He slipped a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.
Inside was a group of people who looked startled at the use of a key.
"Easy, my children," Fitzwilliam said, "we are just looking for someplace to spend the next couple of hours." The group began whispering amongst themselves. They all started to slowly disappear, through windows and the front door into the night. As silently as ghosts. It unnerved her. She kept her face and form well hidden.
"They'll be back," Fitzwilliam said. The light in the sky had started to turn gray.
"I'm sure," she agreed. They went back to the cart and brought in the saddle and Will's armor. Fitzwilliam moved it to a room off the main area.
Elizabeth went to Will who lay petulantly in his cage. Her heart swelled for him. She knew how much his pride and honor meant to him. For him to subject himself to this humiliation was endearing.
She reached in the bars to give him a head scratch and he leaned into her hand almost greedily. He even sniffed! She smirked. The poor dear!
"Come here," she murmured to him, cutting open the cage door with her little knife. He slunk from the cage and sat before her, leaning his head into her stomach, with a heart melting huff. Her hands went to pet him and scratch his ears, which were still folded back. She cooed to him and spoke softly.
After a minute, the sky grew lighter. She walked him into the house and into the side room. Fitzwilliam left them alone, and she appreciated it.
It ended today. Either they would live as humans, or die together. But in either case, she was losing her wolf, her constant companion of two years. She was surprised how sad she felt over it.
He got all the pats and scratches in those final minutes. His amber eyes closed in simple wolfish happiness, tail thumping on the floor. She dropped a kiss on his head. He looked at her and gave a lick to her chin. Tears sprang into her eyes at this. But it was time to go, she could feel it coming.
The ghosts of Will melded together before her eyes. His amber eyes stayed fixed on her only with a doggy happiness.
She changed.
Oxoxoxo
Will immediately fell to his knees with a heart clench. The hawk screamed next to him, flapping her wings and generally being a nuisance. Pain had radiated across his chest and down both arms. It took him a few more minutes then he would like to get himself under a good regulation. He was sweating by the time the episode faded.
It ended today though.
The hawk chirped next to him.
He wondered if he would see Elizabeth today. If he did, he wondered how long he would have with her. Minutes? Days? After the pain he just felt, it could not be months. The thought filled his heart with sorrow. After all this to not live.
Will stood up from the ground and put on his under armor clothes. The hawk hopped along after him in his footsteps. She would chirp occasionally, look out the window and flap her wings. He smirked at her antics, offering his hand for her to perch on. This would be the last time he would see the hawk. He had grown fond of her.
But he slid her hood over her eyes before he could delve too far into that emotion.
He walked from the room to see Fitzwilliam sitting on the doorstep, watching the sunrise.
"Would you mind helping with my armor?" he asked softly. Fitzwilliam turned to him with a watery nod.
It took longer than Will had anticipated. Maybe it would have gone smoother without help. Perhaps Fitzwilliam was stalling so that his riddle had time to manifest. The armor took nearly an hour.
Will pulled Elizabeths' token from the saddle. It was worn, stained and wrinkled, but he looked at it with reverence on his face. He had Fitzwilliam tie it on his arm. The way she had.
A storm was rolling in.
They got on Fitzwilliam' cart and drove slowly through the network and labyrinth of streets to the great north wall. They were stopped too many times, turning what could have been a thirty minute trip into an hour and a half.
They were close to the cathedral and Will was close to the end of his patience. Elizabeth still had not returned to him. And his heart had attacked him several more times.
Will stood quietly in an alley while Fitzwilliam went out to investigate the outside of the cathedral. He fed the hawk, still not ready to admit how dear to him the creature was. How he would miss the bird, even if his wife would return to him.
Fitzwilliam returned after another hour. The sun had risen high in the sky by this time. Elizabeth had not changed back. It felt like any other day. Since he could usually feel his change come, he thought he would feel this part in the curse as well.
"It should be soon now!" Fitzwilliam told him, "once the clouds break!" The clouds looked dark and thick in all directions. There was no hope of the clouds breaking anytime soon. Will felt the deep resentment from his yet again disappointed hopes. It came out at Fitzwilliam.
"It's day," he said, "like it was yesterday, like it will be tomorrow." The hawk stepped up into his hand with a chirp. He would miss her. His heart ached for Elizabeth, which triggered another painful constriction that radiated to his fingers. He felt breathless from it.
Maybe… he could wait one more hour. So he sat down on a bench near a haystack, and kept all his emotions at bay. He could not afford to lose himself more than he already had.
The day drew on, the clerical confessional mass was ending. His chance at the Bishop was beginning to wane.
"There's no time. The mass will be over soon. I cannot wait," he told Fitzwilliam impatiently. He stood up and walked to the priest. The fright and despair was written on Will's face. "If Georgiana has done her job, I can kill the Bishop now."
"No William!" Fitzwilliam cried, "this chance will never come again!"
"You're right," Will said coldly, "if the service ends peacefully and the cathedral bells begin to toll, then you will know I have failed."
"But," Fitzwilliam said, "Elizabeth."
Will pulled her a little closer to him, feeling his heart wrench as if it were trying to rip itself to pieces. But he knew, better than anyone, the pain she went through. The isolation, the loss, the feeling of being forgotten. The unending exhaustion and hopeless state. The desire for a swift death. But he didn't want to think of her… her..
"I," he began with great difficulty, his eyes stinging with anguish, "beg you. Take her life. Quick and painless."
"I can't do that!" Fitzwilliam said, turning red with held back tears.
"Yes, you can. I beg you! The cruelty would be to damn her to half a life! And that's not what she wants!" No, his golden one must be miserable and forlorn trapped in the darkness as she was. She belonged In the sunshine, with friends and family to hold and to love. She must have wished for death many times over the years. He knew he couldn't continue this life. How could he condemn her to something he wouldn't do himself?
"I couldn't do it!" Fitzwilliam declared decisively. The preist wasn't cursed, he had no idea what he was damning her to!
"Have you ever considered that is what God intended all along?" Will said softly. It would be like taking someone out of a game. And Will knew Elizabeth wanted to stop playing as much as he did. Fitzwilliam looked at him distraught. Tears falling down his face without restraint.
Fitzwilliam finally accepted the knife and the hawk. Will's heart gave a violent lurch and galloped in his chest. The end for him was near. His heart would surely give out soon.
He turned around, put his helmet on and climbed on Goliath for the last time. He rode down the well known streets of his old city, saying a quiet farewell. Whispers started up excitedly.
Captain Darcy had returned!
He made his way up the hill to the cathedral. Before it, in a courtyard he found a formation of guardsmen, half of whom he recognized.
"As the one who was your captain," he told them, "I ask you to let me pass."
Their commander, mounted on a horse, rode up to him. This man was not known to Will.
"Captain Darcy, I have my orders," he started, pulling out his sword quickly. Will struck him before he could pull it out. Why didn't you have that drawn to begin with? Will thought briefly, disappointed in how far the guard had fallen.
The guardsmen bowed down, some willingly, and some pulled back. It made things easier for Will, but he felt more depressed at the guard. He slammed his visor down with his borrowed sword and trotted up to the doors.
He stood in front of the closed doors for half a moment, praying Georgiana was successful and took a deep, steadying breath.
Then he pushed Goliath forward. With nowhere to go he reared up and kicked the doors open with a loud bang. In front of him was a long great hall, with a raised platform at the end. There stood the man. That man
Just as Will remembered. A face that haunted his dreams and stalked his wife.
The Bishop.
A moment caught the corner of his eye. A quick glance saw Georgiana hanging on the door. The girl gave him a stressed smile and a salute with her knife. His little sister. He never told her.
Will turned his attention back to the demon. He shoved Goliath forward. Will seethed at just the sight of the bishop. When he came to a stop just in front of the devil, his heart had a powerful contraction. Goliath reared up. Will heard a horse galloping into the cathedral.
"Darcy!" Wickham shouted from atop a gray horse. His sword was drawn. Will gave a strained exhale. The Bishop would have to wait. Will turned to face Wickham, who looked sadistically gleeful to see him.
Will pushed Goliath towards Wickham as Wickham galloped towards them. Will swung his unfamiliar sword at the man, nearly knocking him off the gray horse, but not. They both skidded to a stop on opposite ends of the hall before turning around and running again.
With a shout, Will struck Wickham with a fury. Wickham fell backward in his saddle, but retained his seat. Will was infuriated as he turned Goliath. This obviously wouldn't work, so he pushed Goliath up the steps of the platform to the Bishop. The Bishop just grinned at him
Wickham raced up to him, crashing his sword to cut down Will. Will blocked it and moved towards the Bishop, fighting Wickham off.
Wickham squeezed his horse between him and the Bishop, pushing Goliath to move back down the steps. Wickham remained glued to Will's side. Will slashed at Wickham, who dodged. But the sword swiped the back of the gray horse's head.
The gray horse reared and screamed in a fright, falling over and nearly throwing Wickham. Will felt bad for the horse, but couldn't be distracted now.
Wickham must have been strapped to the saddle, for when the horse got up, he kept his seat. Will was astounded.
Will pushed Goliath between the pillars on the sides of the hall. Wickham lined up on the other side for another run.
Will ran at him, before the frightened gray horse was ready, and struck Wickham with as much force as he could muster. Will's own arm reverberated with the blow, triggering an attack from his own heart.
Wickham flipped over and out of his saddle. As soon as Wickham crashed into the ground he was back up. He took off his helmet and threw it at Will. Will leaned to dodge it and heard the great window above him shatter. The falling glass made Goliath scitter forward past Wickham. Will felt Wickham grab him and rip him from the saddle.
An underhanded move! Will seethed at the lack of honor Wickham displayed. Once they had wrestled to their feet Will kicked him in the stomach. If Wickham would fight dirty, they would both fight dirty. He threw Wickham away and the man stayed down.
Will grabbed his borrowed sword from where it had fallen.
He marched up towards the Bishop. Three guardsmen tried to stop him, but they were cut down. Will was fixated on that devil, the Bishop. He would kill that man, and it would be the last thing he did in this life. The Bishop seemed pleased to watch the fight.
Will was tackled into the stairs of the platform. He flipped himself over and saw Wickham over him! Wickham brought his sword down, clanging against Wills and sliding harmlessly into the stairs. Wickham looked demented as he hacked away at Will. Will feverishly blocked each move, before kicking Wickham away. Wickham crashed backward into a pillar.
Will turned to go back to the Bishop, but noticed an eclipse forming in the broken window. The clouds had broken, like Fitzwilliam had said.
Was that…? Could that be…?
Will took his helmet off. Perhaps the heat from the fighting was getting to him. Perhaps his heart was making him delusional.
"Night without a day?" he muttered to himself in confusion, "day without a night?" The sky darkened rapidly as the moon moved in front of the sun. He heard movement and turned.
The Bishop had run out from behind the altar, disbelief on his face. That was a confirmation to Will.
Will stood up, sword in hand, and ran towards the door of the cathedral.
"Fitzwilliam!" Will shouted, maybe he could hear, "wait!" His Elizabeth! His heart lurched as he ran.
Wickham leapt in front of him, ready to fight, but Will didn't have time. He swung his sword, half possessed. He needed to get to Elizabeth!
He tackled Wickham to throw him away, but Wickham kept his feet. The hilt of his sword banged down on Will's spine. The plate of armor helped, but it triggered another searing pain through his heart. He shouted in pain as Wickham flung Will down.
Elizabeth! He needed to get to Elizabeth!
Wickham slashed at him. He was preventing Will from seeing his wife! Wickham needed to die.
Wickham must have noticed the deadly change in Will. Will's crazed cuts sent him jumping away and he ducked behind a pillar. Wivkhan jumped back in front of the door, keeping Will from leaving again.
"You're dead!" Will snarled. Wickham only smirked and brought his sword to cut Will down. They beat at each other. Wickham to detain Will, and Will to escape to see Elizabeth. In the fight Will noticed a guardsmen reach out to pull the cathedral bells.
Will felt a lightning bolt course through him. She would die by his own order if those bells sounded. His heart made his limbs go numb, but his soul needed to save Elizabeth. He drew a knife and threw it into the man's chest. The man fell from the bell tower with a loud thump, and the bells stayed silent.
Wickham fought him relentlessly. The man had gotten better since their last encounter. Wickham was not bad before. Will was genuinely worried about his success with his heart handicap.
Will pushed himself harder, shouting in the effort to beat the man back. Wickham fell back against a pillar and dropped his sword. Will kicked it away. He was just about to run him through when the bells tolled above him.
God, no! The level of anguish that shredded through his soul was mind numbing. He forgot about Wickham, the Bishop, his quest, even his heart.
He took a few shaky steps away from Wickham. The man looked bewildered to still breathe.
"Stop!" Will roared, shaking the tension from the air.
He wouldn't make it to her in time. Even if he sprinted it would take ten minutes. She would be long gone.
He continued his shaky walk to the door of the great hall and leaned heavily on its frame.
"Fitzwilliam," he whispered as a prayer, "make it quick." His command had killed his beloved wife, and he felt that weight to the depth of his bones. Her smiling, playful light had been extinguished. His last reason for life was gone.
He felt so much, so deeply that he had broken through to the other side of torment. He was totally numb.
He would follow her and beg her forgiveness. But first, he had to rid the world of that devilish man.
So, with an iron lock on his shattered psyche, he turned around.
Wickham looked wildly confused as Will approached him, dead inside. Then Will brought his sword up to continue their fight. Wickham was tired by now, and had been beaten twice. Only Will's bizarre behavior had saved him.
Wickham kicked Will in the stomach as hard as he could, sending the pale man rolling. Will's sword flew from his hand. Will kicked upwards into Wickham. Wickham lost his sword and they fell to wrestling and hitting.
Wickham ripped himself away and kicked Will in the face, sending him to the ground again. Wickham staggered to the nearest sword. Somehow, there were three. Will was on his hands and knees, seemingly unable to get up.
Wickham walked towards him with his sword, enjoying the sight of such a powerful man beaten. Will rolled and crawled back away, making the sight more pleasant to Wickham. He raised his arms high to plunge the sword into Will. But he was surprised when Will rolled towards him. He stabbed into the stoney floor.
Will rolled back away, elbowing the sword from Wickhams grasp onto the floor. He rolled over it and brought it up quickly. As Wickham had leaned down to grab the sword again, Will pushed it up and through Wickham.
Wickham fell forward, nearly falling on Will. But Will heaved the sword away, digging through Wickham and landing him at Will's side. Like Francesco had.
Will never liked the feeling of killing a man, not even one like Wickham. But there was nothing for it. Will quickly looked around for his borrowed sword. His fathers sword lay on the ground near him.
How in the hell?
He scrambled to get it. As he held the familiar blade, he spied a familiar pair of boots. His eye traveled up to see Georgiana's pale, fearful face. The girl was a liar and Will felt mild relief over it. Georgiana nodded to him with a shy, encouraging smile from behind a column.
Will gave her a quick nod and marched back to the Bishop. One guardsman tried to fight him, but Will threw him off the platform. Will just wanted this to be over with so he could follow Elizabeth.
At last, he had the Bishop at the tip of his ancestors sword, with no one to stop him. The Bishop looked unafraid.
"But kill me, Darcy," he said smugly. That horrible voice from the storm so long ago, "and the curse will go on forever. We must think of Elizabeth."
His heart felt as though a nail went through it at the sound of her name. Behind the iron door in his soul, his emotions rioted and thundered. The breath felt stolen from him.
"Elizabeth," he said, lingering on her name, "is dead." He spat the last word for the curse it was. "Damn you," he told the demon, "damn you to hell." He swung his sword over his head to cut the devil finally down.
"Will?" a familiar, shaky voice floated over his shoulder. It stilled his hand quicker than God. It couldn't be! It was too clear and vulnerable to be the phantom of his mind. But was it the phantom?