#dontkillforpleasure

[nothisdaughter-blog]

Into the Dark || Abigail, Galahad, and Tristan

Abigail could feel him following her. She lived at her fathers’ house far from town so that they might have plenty of land for horses and opportunity for peace away from the people. She enjoyed the silence when her fathers were there, but when they were gone it was nearly maddening. Abigail had thought counting the sunsets passed, thinking each day would bring her closer to her family being reunited, but it only brought her pain.

She avoided going into town after she came of age. Once others saw her as an adult and not a little orphan girl, the rumors about her past swirled in the town. Everyone from strangers to those that helped raised her while her fathers were gone judged thoughtlessly of their way of life. She was a woman, closer to knighthood than to marriage, and for that the town felt the need to punish her. 

They called her wild and savage, doomed to a life of loneliness due to her upbringing. Others said she was cursed because of where Abigail came from. She didn’t know much herself, other than her fathers rescued her when she was abandoned. They saved her life, but that wasn’t enough for the people of the town. They said she came a town of murderers, those that pillaged off of the coast line. They said she was destined to become the same.

But then there were days like these, where her fathers had been gone for weeks on end and she could no longer avoid going into town. Abigail needed to care for herself, regardless of the nightmares that haunted her. There were those, her age especially, who could not resist making sure her time in town was miserable.

This time one was following her home. Suddenly, he was shouting from behind her. He said that her fathers were weak in taking her in and that they would not be able to prevent her in becoming the murderer they all knew she would be. Those words did not phase her as much. There was no proof in his words and surely her fathers would have said something to her before. She was a woman now, not a child and she dissevered the truth.

But then he said something that echoed her worst fears deep inside her. He said that her fathers were dead and would never return to her. It had been weeks since anyone had heard from the knights. Of course, they would leave her. Everyone else in her life had. Abigail could feel his foot steps getting closer as his words pierced her. She couldn’t bear the sting of truth that they held for her.

Abigail had a grip on a small hunting knife her father had given her for protection. She was shaking with pain and anger. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her. Abigail spun around, with her hand out wide. She had intended to just yell at him, but she had forgotten about the blade in her hand. Abigail was shocked that her knife had cut into the boy’s hand that he had held up to protect himself with.

Blood was dripping down his hand and across the edge of her knife. He was crying out and begging her to stop, but Abigail found herself overpowered by the momentum to strike at him again.

dontkillforpleasure wedonotrunfromit

[nothisdaughter-blog]

Abigail was going to swear that this season was the coldest winter she had ever experienced. Galahad would laugh and tell her that she said the same every winter and had since she could speak. She would give anything to hear him laugh again, even at her own expense. Abigail was wrapped in a blanket Tristan had given her years ago on one of his triumphant returns home. He would be appalled to know that she was still in bed, hiding underneath it, with half of the day already gone. Both of them would be.

But they weren’t there to tell her to straighten up the mess she had left down stairs or to tend to the horses. They were gone, off to war, again. They had decided she was old enough to be on her own this time, allowing her to stay in their home rather than visit one of the families in town. Abigail didn’t think it would be too hard. The King had promised they would only be gone for no longer than a month this time. Galahad had held her cheeks in his warm hands, kissing her forehead as he promised to be home before the second full moon.

His words were a comfort to her then, but a nightmare to her now. The next full moon was in three days. If neither of her fathers returned before then, she would only fear the worst. Her first few days alone were easy and thankfully uneventful. Tristan had taught her how to care for the horses and Galahad had shown her how to make a fire. She had been confident that she could live on her own until their return. 

But as the days became slower and the weeks lasted longer, Abigail wasn’t so sure anymore. Her nights were lonely and silent. She missed smaller things that she didn’t even know she was aware of, like the creak in Tristan’s chair when he sat in it after dinner or Galahad’s boots thudding against the floor as he brought in water for the night. She missed the heaviness of Tristan’s voice as he repeated a story he had told countless times over and how, even after all these years, Galahad still sat on the floor with her to listen to Tristan. Having out grown sitting on his lap, she would sit next to him and lean against his shoulder as he would drape a blanket across both of them. Then Abigail would hug both of them good night and she could go to sleep, knowing they would be able to start the day together in the morning.

Abigail was an adult now, but she still wanted Tristan to bring in her doll before she went to bed and for Galahad to tuck another blanket around her when it was especially cold outside. She wanted to surprise them both with breakfast. Abigail wanted to tell them she loved them and that she was so grateful that they had recused her so many years ago. She could never tell them that enough, especially when they were gone. Yes, she was sixteen and a very capable adult, but there wasn’t much point in that if she didn’t have her fathers there to share her life with.

[nothisdaughter-blog]

“We lie best when we lie to ourselves.”

Abigail nodded, wiping her fingers across her cheeks. She slowly raised her gaze to meet Galahad’s eyes. “I’m going to behave, I promise.” Abigail whispered. Galahad and Tristan were leaving to do a favor for King Arthur. They said they were only going to be gone for a few weeks. Neither one of them would answer her on whether their trip was dangerous. But she knew it was. Knights were always put into impossible situations. But Abigail had faith that they would return to her. They had always returned to her; this time would be no different. 

But of course, Galahad couldn’t leave without a final warning for her to stay out of trouble. Abigail was sixteen now and old enough to live on her own. But she had so much of Tristan in her that Galahad had the right to be concerned about her being alone. Abigail would rather they both stay with her, but she knew they needed to go and she needed to prove that she was capable of being on her own.

She reached forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m going to be good. Honest.” Abigail mumbled against his skin. “As long as you come home.”