Ravenna didn't respond and silently went back to work. She wondered why everything suddenly seemed like a secret nowadays.
"She's a princess. Princesses always have duties to keep and make which is none of our concern," Ravenna said, using a tone that got the old man rolling his eyes.
"Sometimes, rumors make up a story, young woman. And in so many cases, it makes up even the unexpected one,"
Ravenna couldn't agree less. The dramas unfolding beyond the castle walls were as frightening as the ones within.
The next question she heard caused her hands to cease. "Would you honor death, when it reaches you?"
She heard him say while she worked her body. Ravenna felt the sudden air reminding her of a time of resolution. With a look, "I will defend myself like the knights would swear."
"And if you lack the sword?"
"I wouldn't lack the skill either," she said. "Make use of my legs and perhaps… my sweet tongue." There was cunnigness in her voice when she shrugged off and it was already too late to stop it.
A part of her felt relieved when he didn't pry into her statement.
"What if you have a kingdom to defend? On the day of war?" Ravenna peeked at him. "Will you yield without any? When you have someone to protect? People to watch?"
She didn't know how to respond. Or what to say. "I'm no King," she reminded. But then remembered Alaric. "I'll fight, till my last breath," She responded without any doubt.
"That's where you are wrong, girl." He enunciated. "That's the mistake they keep making. You don't want to die a coward. You don't fight till your last breath, you fight till theirs."
He continued. "They are the enemies, not your poor breath. If they take your sword, grab their balls. If they take your skill, grab their arse. If they take your legs and your sweet tongue, then you have a whole body to raid, one."
Ravenna chuckled at his antics.
"You don't always have to welcome death before it buries you. Do you think I find joy, putting people in their graves? I would rather sit at home with my small family and tell tales to my juveniles. Teach them how to defend themselves and say the right words. Over my dead body I serve as a knight, acknowledging death like breaking crumbs of bread. So you listen… never acknowledge death when it comes knocking."
"Aye, sir." Ravenna chuckled again, shaking her head. The sudden urge to keep pushing hit harder and her lips twitched to a sad smile. "You should teach your king this," she said at the end.
"Mm," Nicholas responded. "I wouldn't call him king. Not someone who wears a gown and lets his queen wear the armor."
"Hush now," Ravenna's eyes went wide. "Lower your voice," She looked around warily before adding with a friendly glare, "I do not want someone else taking over your position. Not any time soon."
The old man released a hearty chuckle and said, "You're doing the Lord's work, Ravenna. I pity you that one day, all I see behind that dress would be merely a skeleton… and behind? Bone." He said, walking away. "Just be careful."
As he departed, Ravenna shook her head slightly, focusing on her gruesome task.
It was almost three in the afternoon when Ravenna finished with the unending torture. She took a break, seeking fresh air outside when a slight commotion distracted her.
Before she could discover the cause, "Ravenna!" someone yelled her name from afar, shifting her attention in an instant as she turned to recognize the familiar face.
"Brynhild," Ravenna acknowledged with a smile, throwing themselves into a small hug.
"I heard you were sick, and I thought to come today but here you are," she placed her hand on her cheek. "How's life as the castle's scourge?" There was a playful sarcasm in her tone causing Ravenna to smile.
"Unpleasant, but necessary," Hannah responded. "And I'm fine now. Just the usual trait," she said, earning a nod from her. "How have you been?"
"Same as always," she replied. "Less fat, much skinnier." She said, earning a chuckle from both. "I've missed you,"
Ravenna noticed the spill on her dress and her smile slowly faded. "Drama again, huh?"
Brynhild followed her by sight and looked down at the ugly spill on her dress. "Ah, yes," she released a small laugh. "Those lioness was let loose together again," she whispered. "Princess Ophelia always has a bad temper, but today, it was worse,"
Ravenna couldn't bear to imagine. Life as a scourge was worse but servants suffer way cruelly. Similar to slavery— torment misery, and sometimes even death. A slight mistake could cause one's head, and if not careful enough, it could be nastier.
"There's a lot for you to catch up on. Oh, did you hear? The castle's preparing for the King's birthday celebration," Her voice always seemed to lighten up regarding the matters of balls and festivals, one Ravenna got used to.
Forfeiting the energy, "I did. I heard the royal families would attend. It's been ages since such events were held here in this castle. For once, I had thought the king to be dead."
"And the dragon to be asleep. The ant was annihilated, with its fellow spiders swept away. Wouldn't the sun shine brighter than it had ever been?"
Ravenna managed a smile. "It would've." And they bypassed a few bustling servants, their voices getting louder this time. It seems like the commotion had started drawing a few attention, she thought.
Out of curiosity, she opened her mouth to speak, but Brynhild beat her to it. "By the way, I forgot to mention. Lady Alethea sent for you earlier today,"
And Ravenna's face instantly paled at the knowledge. "And what did you tell her?"
"That you were hibernating, had a few eggs to lay, and more twigs to fetch," Ravenna gave her a look. "You were stuck in the privy pit. Trust me— the wolf needs nothing less than a warm cup of coffee and a calm massage on her feet. She had someone do the job."
Ravenna let out a sigh. Thank the heavens…
"You can't avoid her forever, you know. Sooner or later, she will meet you, one way or the other. I only hope, then, you would be free from this bondage. You have your way and the castle would have theirs. It would be nothing more than a cruel past shared as a tale to your offspring."
"Brynhild-"
"You would become a mother someday, Ravenna. You can never dodge the fate of it." Her voice was firm.
"Which man would look at me? Which man wants a thief?" And a whore? Ravenna said the latter in her thoughts.
"Every man," Brynhild replied. "And besides, you're only nineteen. Every man would want a woman who steals their heart. Every man would cherish your kind of thief, like it or not. You're brave. Smart. Strong," She listed. "Far better than those princesses dressed in fancy clothes with ugly traits," she muttered under her breath.
Ravenna felt the urge to cry at her words, yet stilled it with a firm breath, chuckling rather. Brynhild always had that funny charisma and an energetic spirit which didn't fail to lift her out of her bad days.
She gulped the lump down her throat. "I hope not,"
Brynhild looked at her, certain emotions swirling in those irises.
Voices got louder and this time, they dragged their attention. It seems like someone had been arrested.
"What's going on?" Ravenna asked, trying to look through the distance but she could only get a glimpse of half a dozen guards and a few scattered servants.
"They caught a Mage at the marketplace today." Mage? Ravenna thought. "He was practicing some sort of sorcery on one of the folks but the guards caught him before he disappeared," Brynhild revealed, her voice carrying the weight of the information.
Ravenna held her breath.
A sudden nightmare flashed before her eyes but Byrnhild's next sentence shattered it into flames. "And worse, I think it was a little boy…"
The rest of her sentence withered like a dead leaf, as adrenaline hit her senses, almost knocking her out.
Little boy…
Alaric.
Everything blurred before her eyes and instantly, Ravenna let her feet wander off the places that were restricted for servants like her.
She could hear Brynhild's voice, or was it a yell, but it sounded so distant that the only potency was the heavy sound of her heartbeat palpitating her eardrums.
Ravenna moved past but the boy's face was hidden beneath a coarse sackcloth hood, his arms bound in front.
No, no, no, no, no…
And with that, she ran.
***