Ealdor
June, 504 AD
[warnings: references to self-harm, mental illness, death]
Night had fallen upon the lands at some point while my mind continued to spin, not allowing me to make a single move to try to get back to the village. My body continued to tremble, there was a slight ringing in my ears, my vision was blurry, and my oxygen intake was hindered at best. I'm not sure of how much time passed after I collapsed onto the ground – but I still felt almost paralysed, entirely scared, and completely nauseated.
Part of me wanted to believe that everything has been a dream. That the lights in the distance are policemen with flashlights as they comb the Texan countryside for the missing girl and her horse. Only a couple of days have passed and Dallas and I will soon be brought back home to San Antonio. But, as I looked down at the armour on my body and at the bow that laid some metres away from me, I knew that it was just wishful thinking.
Here is reality: I killed multiple people… in successive order… without an ounce of remorse… without hesitation. Who cares if it was in defence of other people? The fact is – I killed them. My hands are covered in blood forever. No amount of scrubbing will ever wipe it. It's permanent. I could go on countless missionary trips for the rest of my life, and it still won't stop being true.
"Astraea!" I heard faint male voices calling in the distance.
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my mind of the haunting thoughts as I allowed myself to glance around a little more. Dallas stood beside me, his head down as he nibbled on some grass. I reached out to him and tangled my fingers in his mane, feeling desperate for something to ground my senses.
"Astra!" I heard again. I opened my mouth, wanting to shout back, but a sob came out instead. I let my head fall against my horse's leg beside me and did my best to take deep breaths in defiance of the deadly squeezing feeling in my lungs, attempting to stop the crying that threatened to take me over. Murderers don't get to cry.
"Astra," the voice was softer this time. Closer. I turned my head again and spotted a figure running towards me, then it dropped to its knees in front of me. It was a pale and teary-eyed Merlin. "Oh, Astra," he mumbled as he moved to hug me tightly. I dropped my head to his shoulder, but remained unmoving otherwise as my body kept trembling.
"Arthur! I found her!" my friend called out.
A frantic-looking Prince appeared on the scene shortly after and he instantly dropped to the ground next to Merlin. "Astra," he whispered as the sorcerer released me slowly. I looked up through a blurred sight to find worry clouding his pretty eyes.
Arthur gently cupped my face and wiped away some tears (which was useless 'cause they just kept on coming); and I watched out of the corner of my eye as Merlin looked my body up and down – presumably in search of injuries. I knew there were none, but found myself unable to tell him that as I kept struggling to breathe properly.
"She appears to be in some sort of shock, but she is physically unharmed," the sorcerer concluded with a sigh as he stood up and went to retrieve the discarded bow.
"We should get her back," the Prince stated before suddenly picking me up bridal-style. I squeezed my eyes shut and let my head rest against his chest, finding comfort in the lively beating of his heart.
I looked out the window at Ealdor. A couple of buildings had been burnt or damaged during the battle, but most of them had survived with few scarring. How I found myself envying the wood, and the stone, and the straw. They had seen horrors, been used as cover, and even as weapons as spiked logs still adorned some homes. Regardless, they don't have to deal with the horrors of the aftermath. They don't have to feel guilty. The blood can be scrubbed off them, the damage easily repaired, and they will never know it had been there in the first place.
My hand travelled down to cover the area on my abdomen where the long scar sits beneath my clothes. The buildings don't have to remember. How lucky.
"Astra," a soft female voice spoke. My head turned towards the doorway to find Gwen, who wore an obviously forced smile on her lips. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked as she cautiously stepped into the room.
I shrugged. At least my body's responding, now. "I'm okay," I mumbled. And I can talk. The girl gave me a pointed look, but did not comment on my blatant lie.
"Um… I know that this is probably the last thing you want to do, but they are holding a ceremony to honour those who were lost," she said instead, her tone still gentle.
"You mean those who were killed," I replied in a whisper. She grimaced, but nodded. I know that Will had been one of the casualties – I heard Merlin talking about it to Hunith the night before. He wasn't a nice person, but that doesn't mean I was happy that he was gone…
Like Gwen said – the last thing I wanna do is go outside and stand in a funeral among crying people. I've only ever been to one funeral, and I don't want to deal with all the memories that will undoubtedly be brought up. But I have to be there for Merlin.
"Sure, I'll be there in a sec," I finally told the girl. She nodded and gave me a small smile before leaving.
The funeral was hell. People told stories, they cried, they hugged, and they cried some more…
I wonder if the families of Kanen's fallen soldiers are in a similar situation at the same moment in time… No, at least we have bodies to bury. All that those families will get is a letter informing them of their loss – if that.
Ealdor got incredibly lucky, whether the mourning people realised it or not.
The very next day, we got ready to set off back to Camelot. Merlin and I wanted to stay and help rebuild what was destroyed during the battle, but Hunith convinced us to go with Arthur (well, she convinced Merlin, and he made me join). Apparently the three of us need one another, or some dumb crap. I disagree. The only thing I need is to be put in a prison cell… or, even better, a gas chamber.
"Take care, my sweet girl. You were very brave," the woman whispered as she hugged me tightly.
My jaw clenched. I don't wanna be brave – I wanna be good!
"You take care, too, Hunith," I said weakly, forcing a smile. She let me go shortly after and I climbed on my horse.
In stark contrast with the ride to Ealdor, the ride back to Camelot was plagued with silence.
I know that Merlin is mourning Will, while I'm mourning… a bunch of strangers. 'Cause that's what I do now, apparently. Did Steve Rogers ever mourn those he killed in the war? No! The Howling Commandos celebrated each victory! Maybe I should throw a party!
I felt terrified when we got to the castle and Merlin went straight towards Gaius's apartment without uttering a word. Arthur and Morgana went to find Uther, knowing that they had some good explaining to do, and Gwen went home; leaving me standing in front of the main staircase with no idea of what to do.
Most of me wanted to be alone. To lock myself in my room, listen to music, and sleep until September ends. But I was afraid to do that. I don't know if I can trust my own mind. I know it's capable of going down some very dark rabbit holes, and I felt scared that I would fall back into old habits… But maybe I deserve to.
So, with a sigh, I went upstairs to my room and locked myself inside. Then I pulled out my phone and blasted music through my earbuds until I eventually fell asleep to the sound of Simon & Garfunkel.
If I learnt anything from spending six summers in freaking Texas wearing long-sleeved shirts without anyone ever guessing why that was; it's that I'm pretty great at hiding things. That knowledge has only been reinforced by a year of living in the middle ages without anyone finding out that I'm from the future. Other than the people I've told, obviously. So I figured that I could just sweep my current problems under the rug, too, and ignore them until they eventually went away.
Stiles Stilinski is a wise one.
Painting myself with a new resolve when I woke up the next morning, I changed out of my dirty clothes (since I hadn't changed into my PJs before falling asleep), brushed my teeth, fixed my hair, and spent an hour filling up my bathtub so that I could have a much needed bath. Once that was done, I went downstairs to Gaius's apartment.
I wasn't hungry. In fact, the mere thought of food made me feel nauseated; but I had to keep up appearances.
"There you are, dear girl! I have not seen you since you left!" the physician exclaimed as soon as I entered his home. I froze as he hugged me tightly and forced a smile when he let me go. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
No. "Yeah!" I replied. He grinned at me and moved towards the stove, where something that smelled like sugar and cinnamon was cooking.
Oh, no! Not oatmeal again!
I sat at the kitchen bench and played with my spare hair-tie over the table while Gaius finished cooking.
Merlin left his room not long after and a grin formed on his lips when he saw me. "Astra!" he exclaimed as he rushed down the stairs, then he attacked me in a hug.
"Hey, buddy," I mumbled against his shoulder.
"You seem better," he noted, looking me up and down once he'd pulled away.
"You do, too," I returned, forcing a smile again.
The boy sat down next to me and, soon, Gaius had filled up three bowls and placed them on the table. My stomach churned at the sight of the food. Indeed, oatmeal again. Merlin didn't seem bothered by it as he dug right in. I, however, hesitated to even grab the spoon; only doing so when the physician sent a questioning look my way.
"Mm. Yummy," I commented as I swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal without stopping to chew or savour it, ignoring the queasy feeling inside of me. Gaius seemed satisfied by that reaction and looked away, engaging in a conversation with Merlin – which I tuned out as I tried to keep the food down… until I heard my name being mentioned.
"Yes, Astra was a hero. I do not think we would have won without her," the sorcerer said in reply to something that Gaius had said.
Hero? A hero is just someone else's villain. A villain is someone else's hero. The titles are entirely subjective. In reality, there are only murderers and victims; and I'm certainly not the latter.
I started as the spoon dropped from my hand, clattering against the table before it fell to the floor.
"Oops," I mumbled as I went to pick it up with trembling hands. Darn it!
My eyes became fixed on the bowl again and I started to swirl the food around, only taking small bits out of it every once in a while with the sole purpose of keeping up appearances. I don't want food. And I don't wanna be here anymore. I wanna go back home. Before everything went crazy. I want all of this to just be a dream.
"Astra!" Merlin called loudly and I jolted as I looked up at him, finding that his eyes were wide in concern. "Are you all right?"
I tilted my head, "Yeah, why?"
"We have been calling your name for a minute!" Gaius informed me with a frown on his face, causing me to gulp.
So much for keeping up appearances.
"I was just thinking that I should take Dallas out for some exercise," I mumbled as I quickly stood up. Both males gave me questioning looks. "Thanks for breakfast," I told the elderly man and rushed out before either could say anything else.
Dallas didn't truly need some exercise. I had actually decided to give him a couple of days off, following the tiresome journey back to Camelot. That, and I didn't really feel like riding.
So, instead, I took a walk around the castle in hopes that it would distract me from the fact that I'm no better than Ultron.
I enjoyed the early summer breeze brushing my hair – which I had let out of its usual braid – and the singing of birds as they sat on the trees above me. Walks like this are impossible to take in Texas. The heat in June there is always unbearable, prompting me to remain indoors with the air conditioning settings fixed at the lowest possible temperature.
Still, I wished I could be anywhere but here at the moment. It's getting old. I realised that the marvellous Camelot castle didn't inspire the same joy in me that it once did. The knights training in the field did not cause me the same wonder they did at first. The kind people waving as I walked past the vendor stands in the citadel made me feel annoyed, missing the invisibility I had at school. And I was scared to look anyone in the eyes lest they see me for who I truly am: a cold-blooded killer.
My thoughts drifted to my high-school classmates. They're all likely finishing their first year of college. Maybe they're already on summer break and travelling around the world… visiting the beaches in Mexico, the mountains in Canada, the theatres in London, the châteaux in France...
I should be walking along a similar life path. How the heck did I end up here? A time-travelling machine, I know, I was there… But how did everything go so wrong? What happened for the settings to get so messed up? How the hell did I end up in freaking Camelot of all places? How did I ever end up becoming a killer?!
"Astraea!" I jumped when a distressed male voice called my name, lifting my gaze just in time to see a knife fly right past me.
My jaw dropped and my breath hitched. Somehow, I ended up in the middle of the training grounds. Last I remember, I was walking past a pottery stand in the citadel…
"You idiot! Watch where you are throwing!" Arthur yelled at the knight who had thrown the knife.
The brunet's face paled, "I am sorry, Sire, I was not expecting anyone to be there."
The Prince shoved him backwards while shaking his head and then he jogged towards me, placing his hands on my shoulders when he reached me. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.
I'm only sad the knight didn't have better aim… No, brain! Bad!
"Y-yeah, s-sorry," I mumbled as I shrugged him off and promptly took off sprinting back to the castle.
I don't think I've ever come so close to dying!… Well, maybe that one time… Had that been anything like my victims' last memories? Hearing a whooshing sound slicing through the air and then – bam! Nothing?
I paced my room as my breathing grew heavy once more. I clenched my fists in an attempt to ground myself, and punched the wall once when that wasn't enough. Then twice. Then thrice.
The pain finally allowed me to take in a deep breath.
Blood cascaded down my hand and I fell backwards onto my butt on the floor, panting. Yeah, bloodied hands. That's more like it. Now the physical matches the spiritual. Only, the sight made me dizzy and I crawled towards my bed, curling up in my Avengers blanket and closing my eyes in hopes that the rapidly forming headache would go away.
"What happened?!" Gaius asked as I entered his apartment some hours later with my bloodied hand cradled against my chest.
I looked down sheepishly as I lied, "I tripped and tried to break the fall."
"With your knuckles?" the physician wondered with a raised eyebrow as he gently took my hand.
"Well, obviously it didn't go according to plan!" I shot back. He recoiled slightly and gave me a disapproving look before going to get some supplies.
"Oh, not again," I whined as I watched him prepare a gauze to clean the wound.
I wish Arth– No! We don't need Arthur! Stupid brain!
"You have got to learn to be more careful, dear girl," the elderly man stated while motioning towards his work table. I sighed and hopped to sit on it, reluctantly allowing him to deal with the blood as I bit down on my lip to stop myself from complaining. I deserve the pain, after all.
Once Gaius was done torturing me, I made my way towards my room once more, wishing to continue to sleep until I evaporated from existence, or something. I wrapped myself in my Avengers blanket, laid down on my side, and I was about to pull out my phone from under my pillows when I heard footsteps outside, which caused me to pause my movement.
I sat up in a jolt when none other than Arthur Pendragon himself entered my room – unannounced, I may add – and sat down on one of the chairs at my little dining table. Then he stared at me expectantly.
I sighed shakily and pulled my blanket tighter around my body as I grew uneasy under his intense blue gaze.
"Talk to me, Astraea," he demanded in a soft tone. "You have not been acting like yourself and we are all worried about you. Even my father has noticed." I averted my gaze, looking at the closed window instead. "Please, just tell me what we can do to help you," he added.
I looked down at my hands as they fisted the blanket – not missing the way in which the wounds on my knuckles stung – and I clenched my jaw in an attempt to keep tears from pooling in my eyes again, but it didn't work; so I pulled the hood of my baby blue hoodie over my head, hoping that that would help to mask the fact that I was one wrong move away from turning into a whimpering baby again.
Arthur stood up and moved closer, then he sat down at the foot of my bed and he slowly reached towards me. His fingers gently brushed over mine as he unfisted my hands and took them in his, causing an electrifying warmth to spread through my whole body. I glanced up at him, gulping.
"Did something happen during the battle?" he asked softly. "Did any of the men say anything to you? If any of them dared lay a finger on you–"
"No," I cut him with a shake of my head. "No, it's not anything like that," I mumbled as my heart-rate sped up again. "It's just the… the…" I tried to get it out, but the tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes stopped me.
I snatched one of my hands back and wiped a couple of drops that had dared to escape before lowering it and hesitantly placing it near the Prince again. He didn't seem to think twice as he grabbed it once more. I chanced another glance into his eyes and found that they were softer than I'd ever seen them. There was no judgement in them… no anger… no apprehension.
"You feel remorse because you had to kill them, do you not?" he concluded, and all I could do was nod before an involuntary sob escaped my lips. He didn't say anything else. Instead, he let go of my hands and scooted closer to me before wrapping me in his arms.
I let myself fall against his chest and clung onto him, no longer able to hold back as I started to cry again.
"Everything will be all right, Astra," he whispered as he gently rubbed my back. "I have got you."
San Antonio, TX
June, 2022
Mason Reeves paced the wooden barn restlessly with his heart caught in his throat as his mind turned over the absurdity of the mission on which he and his friend, Lionelo 'Leo' Hargrove, were about to embark. "What if this doesn't work?" he worried. "We could get stuck in the f*cking sixth century!"
Leo and their third friend, Henry Pietersen, shared an annoyed look in between their concentrated efforts to double-check the data on the time-machine's computer; while Gustab Aphelion cleared his throat as he sent a deadly glare towards the chubby red-head.
"Do I need to remind ya' what's at stake for you, Mr. Reeves?" the man questioned. Mason was quick to straighten up and he complained no more.
Even when the three boys had gotten many acceptance letters from universities from all over the world, some of which included great scholarships; their high school refused to hand over their diplomas until they brought Astraea back home – something that Gustab had violently pushed for.
It had taken the boys four whole months to be able to figure out where and when exactly the girl had ended up, and they'd also had to make many adjustments to the machine so that they could controllably travel and return, rather than just send something (or someone) away; which had taken them nearly a year to figure out and test.
"Look, Mace," Henry said, "if everything goes according to plan, we'll have a much improved working time-machine, and we'll become millionaires!"
Leo gave the dark-skinned boy a pointed look. Unlike his classmates, he was worried about the ethical implications of time-travel and didn't want to push the project any further. The whole thing had been a huge mistake and he would take it all back in a heartbeat if he could but, according to the laws of time that he'd figured out, it was impossible to do. So now he just had to live with this thing forever.
"Key word: if," Mason replied in a mumble, earning another glare from Gustab.
"Oh shut up," Leo spat.
Once all the necessary adjustments had been made, Leo and a very reluctant Mason stepped onto the platform. Henry would be staying home in case anything went wrong. "Will you be okay on your own?" Leo asked the dark-skinned boy.
"I should be asking y'all that," Henry replied, his eyes hesitantly darting between the two travellers.
Mason snorted, "Right?"
"Okay, then," Gustab interjected with a stern look that jumped among the three boys. "Off you go."
Leo, Henry, and Mason exchanged some determined nods, and then the dark-skinned boy pulled on the lever.