Summary ~ Tara Maclay escapes her abusive family and finds herself wounded at Rosenburg Castle, home to Willow, who has never known anything but loneliness. AU
Distribution ~ I really don't care just as long as it gets read. Just ask first.
Disclaimer ~ The characters are not mine and belong to their respective owners. I just play with them. The story, however, is mine.
Feedback ~ Please! How else will I improve?
Thanks ~ To my kitten chat buddies. And to my wonderful beta and Bestie, Astron
Thoughts and flashbacks in Italics.
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Chapter 1 - Unexpected Guest
The blonde rode through the storm on horseback, clutching the mane of her horse tightly, trying to guard herself from the pelting rain by leaning as far forward as she could.
I’m going to die, she thought wearily.
As if the horse could hear her thoughts, he bolted forward, determined to get his rider to safety. The trees and landscape around them blurred. The woman pulled her cloak tighter around herself, shivering with the wet and cold. She could feel sickness and fever settling in, could feel the cold down in her bones.
Better than before, I suppose. What irony that I would get away just to die during my escape.
She tightened her grasp on her horse’s mane, “We’ll get there, Jack. I don’t know where, but we’ll get there.”
Jack whinnied in reply and sniffed the air. The air smelled like rain and pine, and that strange smell that came with lightning, but under all that was a new smell. Jack spurred towards that new smell, all too aware that the woman on his back was slumping in the saddle, that her grip had loosened. Her body was shaking miserably. As the new smell began to get stronger, the horse pushed past his limits, foam building around his bit.
They rode into a castle’s courtyard, both horse and rider ready to collapse. The woman could feel the wounds on her back opening, blood trickling down her back. Her vision started to go blurry, as if she was seeing through a thick fog, tinged at the edges with blackness.
There was a loud crack from above them, and they looked up to see a woman on the ramparts, seemingly throwing lightning into the night sky. That was the last thing the blonde saw before giving into the pain and falling off her horse and into the dark.
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She moaned softly when she felt a stinging pain in her back. Someone was cleaning her wounds, but she was too out of it to care. Her brain was working in two different ways; one part, one small tiny part, stayed logical.
You’re fevered, it said calmly; You’re going to die, it told her.
The rest if her mind was lost to reality; she saw flashes of nightmare creatures, and flashes of the men who created her nightmares. The blonde could hear them in her head, yelling at her. Suddenly, it was as if she was there again:
“Tara, you know we do not want to do this. You brought this on yourself,” her brother told her as he tied her wrists to the post. “Father told you what would happen if you did not change.”
“Please,” she begged, not knowing if she was begging them to stop or begging them to kill her. Her brother finished with the ropes and turned away from her, no sympathy in his eyes.
“I’ll beat the witch out of you,” said her father’s voice from behind her. Her blouse was torn from her back.; hearing a loud snap and pain flared in her back as her skin was broken by the leather of the whip in her father‘s hand. The leather came down again and again, but Tara refused to call out. She could feel the skin flayed open, the blood now dripping down her legs. Her lip was bleeding where her teeth had dug into the soft flesh, the coppery taste in her mouth bringing her gorge up. Her knees began to weaken, her whole body shook from the strain; closing her eyes tight, she welcomed what she thought was surely death.
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Tara jolted awake, trying to move, pain shooting through her body from her leg and back.
“Don’t move,” said a voice from nearby. She tried looking around to see where it was coming from, but her body was too stiff. She was on her stomach on what seemed to be a cot, trying to bring her arms up to lift herself slowly but was stopped by a gentle hand on her arm. “I said don’t move. Your leg is broken, and the wounds on your back are extensive. If you move, you’ll tear them open.”
“Where am I?” Tara asked weakly, “How long?”
“Rosenburg Castle,” came the reply. “You have been here four days. Today is the first day that your fever has broken.” Tara’s eyes opened wide in surprise, the castle was rumored to be owned by a dark witch. The rumors stated that the witch was a monster and a murderer. Tara knew all too well how the townsmen could twist stories about things that scared them.
Tara tried to talk through her dry mouth, “Who are you?”
“My name is Willow. Here, chew on this. You can’t have actual water just yet.” A pale hand holding a wet rag appeared in front of her eyes. She moved one of her arms slowly, her eyes never leaving the hand. It seemed fragile yet so strong. Tara took the rag and slipped a corner into her mouth, relieving the dryness.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.. I would like to perform some healing on your back, so that you can at least roll over. I can’t do much for your leg, however. I did set and splint it. I wanted your permission first, before using my magicks on you.”
Tara nodded her assent; there was a soft rustling and then gentle hands moving over her back. She felt the warmth and strength of Willow’s power and smiled; this witch was not dark. There was a sadness that surrounded her and mingled with her power, but no evil. Tara felt the witch weakening and sent her own power out slowly, not wanting to scare or offend this woman.
Willow gasped as she felt the blonde’s power meld with her own, fighting the urge to deny it and run. No one’s power had melded with hers so perfectly. The last woman who had even gotten close was now buried under the rowan tree. Willow continued her healing and spoke softly, “Who are you?”
“Tara.”
“How long have you been practicing?” Willow asked, noting that the wounds on Tara’s back would leave scars, adding to the myriad of stripes that already marred the soft skin. She pulled her hands back as they balled into fists; her anger would not help Tara.
“Since I was young,” Tara answered. She felt anger pulse through Willow and pulled her power back with a snap. “I’m sorry.” She had no idea that the anger was directed for her not at her. It was not something she had ever experienced.
“Who did this to you?” Willow asked, her anger echoing although she had spoken in almost a whisper.
“My father,” Tara admitted, wishing she could hide.
Willow pushed her anger to the back of her mind, “Turn over. I won’t look. Pull the blanket up around you and tell me when you’re covered. Be careful of your leg.”
Tara blushed, barely realizing that she was nude, but did as she was told. As she pulled the blanket up she saw the splint around her leg and looked over at Willow. The woman’s body was small and frail, yet she had a certain strength emanating from her. Her long red hair flowed beautifully down her slim back. Somehow, Tara knew that when Willow turned, she would have bright green eyes.
“I’m covered,” Tara said. Willow turned around; Tara gave a slight smile, seeing that she was partially right. Willow’s eyes were a captivating green, but they were not bright as she’d imagined. They were darkened by sadness and tinged with fear. What did this woman have to be afraid of, Tara thought. Just as she had thought the question, a realization came to her. Me.
“You can leave as soon as you’re able,” Willow said. And then she muttered to herself, “No one ever stays.”
Tara was sure that she wasn’t meant to hear the comment but she did all the same; it sent an ache into her heart that she didn’t understand. Willow seemed so lonely.
“Thank you,” Tara said.
“It’s not a problem, Tara. I’ve been keeping your horse in the stable. He seems well. I’ll be coming in regularly to keep the fire going. Get some rest.” Willow glanced around the room nervously before turning abruptly, leaving the room quickly.
Tara sighed to herself, “I have no where else to be. To go. I have no home.”
The pain in her body combined with the exhaustion of using her magicks soon became too much. Her eyes became heavy and Tara drifted off to sleep, visions of sad green eyes haunting her dreams.
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