The Raven Girl

Chapter 39

"Go on then – tell us."

Her previous outburst had been a product of anger, anger for their judgement of somebody they couldn't hope to know. Though, she supposed she'd tried not to judge the King before arriving here with that awful Sigurd. She tried to ignore those 'misconceptions' her family held for gracious King Eirik and what had she gotten for that? The treatment first befitting a traitor and then a commoner.

"No," she said. "No. What's done is done." She wouldn't give them a sob story, expect them to listen and sympathise and say how sorry they were to have heard that. The world didn't want sob stories. You could be an inch from death, beaten and bruised and traumatised, but weeks later, if you had recovered, you weren't allowed to mourn. Those were the rules: you had to appear mended and you had to carry on. So she did.

She took another sip of her wine; her cup must've been refilled more times than was appropriate, but she still felt in control. As long as she was in control, she would keep her dignity and any ounce of respect she had to her name, however small.

When she managed to free herself from their interrogation, she smiled. She'd stayed longer than many a man because she wanted to show them she belonged there. Asta Ravner was very much a part of their court now and she was welcome – she didn't need to escape as soon as possible, she didn't need to leave the moment it was the slightest bit acceptable. She wasn't daunted by them. Not at all.

The quarters she had been given were fresh and airy, with tapestries hung to cover the stone. There were windows, and plenty of them, and no sooner was she through the door than those windows were opened wide and the icy breeze inhaled.

The fire was already lit in the hearth and though it might've been unwelcome, its heat was countered by the winter temperatures and the glow of the embers helped her to see, reminded her where she was and where she wasn't. She smiled again, peeled off the dress and curled up in the furs that covered her bed. It felt a little like home had, though richer, more beautiful, refined, and despite all she had to despise her home, she'd missed it and its comforts while she was here. Now she didn't have to.

She shut her eyes and fell asleep in an instant, fell asleep to the hissing of the breeze and the smell of charcoal.

The leaves of the trees, those once green leaves, were all but gone. The life that had lived beneath them gone too. The forest was reduced to cinders and the trees were blackened and small – nothing like the forest she'd known.

She looked around for the familiar faces, the faces she'd seen before: Maja, Kristjana, Solfrid. They weren't there; nothing was there. Nothing but the silence of that lifeless forest and the lulling breeze.

And then, there was something. A rustle underfoot sounded through that silent place, that dead place and she turned to confront it. There stood a boy and she knew him. She knew him as her brother, little Jens, and he had torn face and fearful eyes and he looked up at her with ragged breath as he tried to straighten his words.

"Stop!" he cried. "Father says no, Katja."

She looked away, glancing over what remained of that beautiful forest, the home of their people.

"I need to."

"But why?" he pleaded and she stared at his face, so sincere, so oblivious to what she knew. Father didn't know either, what she had to do. Her family, their family, had to be avenged – that was her purpose, why she had been brought back to this earth, and she was the only one who could because she was Hillevi returned. She was Hillevi returned to this awful place to rectify her sister's mistake. She knew that.

Her family would return and they would rip apart everything those soldiers loved, everything they'd created. She knew that too.

How could she answer Jens' question, though? He couldn't understand. Father believed he understood; she supposed that was why he'd sent her brother with instructions not to do it, but he didn't truly. Not as he claimed, anyhow. Jens had no hope of understanding what she said.

"Leave me," she commanded, but he would not. Instead, tears began to trickle down his cheeks and he sputtered his reply.

"No!"

She looked desperately from those dead trees to her living brother. Hillevi didn't have a brother, it was true, but Katja did. Katja had a brother who was crying because of her. She gave him a smile, wrapped an arm around his small shoulder and led him from that silent place.

"I'm sorry, Jens," she said, gently. "Let's go."

But, unknowingly to Jens, at the dead of night she slunk to the forest's edge, just where the grass had begun to sprout again in luscious green tufts and vibrant hills, and lifted her hands, whispering the words she had been taught:

"Where their breathing bodies fell, may they rise and breathe once more."

And there was Solfrid, the sister she'd stoned to death.

Here is my formal apology note XD

If updates are ever slow, blame it on the art coursework. I got a bunch of painting to do and if I ignore it (which I'm sorry to say I have been...) my teacher might pull out her longsword and make an example of me to the others. I think slow updates are better than no updates, cos that's what they would be if capital punishment was reintroduced in my school.

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten. I even made myself a little checklist XD

Just thought I'd let you know now. See you in another couple of months.  Kidding, kidding.