For the fake title, “Those Left Behind.”
It doesn’t make you a bad person to want to live. That’s what you keep telling yourself anyway. Supposedly thanks to an unexpected intervention, if the knight was to be believed, you were spared the executioner’s axe unlike the others who came before and your sentence changed to instead be getting thrown into a cell surrounded by other magical beings and left to rot instead. You don’t regret the fact you spat in his face even if it was unladylike or how you kicked him in the shin because the whispers of how you were some wild thing they had to take care when around made every bit worth it. Without your wand you couldn’t properly tap into your magic but you wanted to make it clear you were far from defenceless. If that meant glaring from the shadows and playing up to their expectations to make yourself appear as anything but meek then so be it! Gone are the halcyon days of kind hearted queens, these ones are ruled by a tyrant and his pet wizard. If you were an other then that made you a threat to his so called peace and had to be punished for your audacity of existing.
Those that follow his orders are no better as far as you’re concerned and they don’t deserve you being nice even if it encourages poorer treatment. Your pride refuses to bow.
Truly one of the worst parts of being in stuck here is all the noises and chatter in languages you can barely understand. Strangely there is one troll that speaks suspiciously well and far beyond what could have been picked up from scraps or books. She introduces herself politely as Callista, always happy to chat if you’re willing or asking how you’re holding up being a mere fleshbag in all of this. Others hiss and sneer your direction as though you as little better than any of the humans on the other side of the iron so you figure it better to keep your mouth shut and bide your time instead even if the words are appreciated. Standing out is dangerous in the outside world and it seems that even the prisons of Camelot is little better. In the fitful nights of rest you can snatch should they ever contain dreams, they always involve your escape. Time must have been passing in some form but everything felt the same with no daylight to track and the scant food you were allowed erratic when it arrives at best. It could have been days. Could have been months with there being no true way to tell and it only further fuels your desire to get out of here once and for all. When it happens though none of their swelling numbers could have suspected a thing and even with the power of hindsight, you remain completely blind right up until it happens.
The goblins burst into a series of quiet chittering, trying to push one another out the way for a better look at the figure who must be descending the stairs. That gets everyone’s notice despite they’re clearly doing their best to make as little noise as possible and your angle is too poor to see so well. Another human you don’t know the name of is reaching their hand through the bars all hopeful but you know better than to tempt fate like that as it wouldn’t be the first time a cruel trick was played. Somehow though the murmurs sound different than any time before and it is enough to make you actually pay attention. Being here taught you more patience than your guardian ever managed so you choose to remain silent as footsteps cross the stone, listening to the increasing gasps when they come. Only now can you catch the sight of a red blaze framing an uncovered face that is almost familiar and it sits at the tips of your memory. When she speaks, all creatures and person alike immediately fall into a hush.
“I’m here to help and all I ask in return is that you harm not a soul during your escape. There is not much time and this might be your only chance, please use it wisely.”
What follows is the impossible sound of metal being jammed into locks and doors creakily swinging open. Exalm lu! The trollish voices cry as they carefully making their way for the stairs. All have to watch their feet for the skittering gnomes or blocking the way for others. Bol chula! Shout the goblins before scattering with the expectation of their brethren to follow. While some salute their saviour, others merely grunt appreciation out of not willing to hang around anymore than necessary.
“Always knew you were a good one.” Callista smiles as she gives the woman a rough pat on the shoulder while passing. She waves in your direction to make sure you won’t be missed in your back corner while the numbers of captives continue to thin.
“Guess this is where we’re parting ways, kid. See ya on the other side!”
You lift your hand to show you heard but are unable to say anything with your throat so parched. When your own turn comes, you don’t like the look of pity that flashes on the woman’s face when your long-held dream is mere moments away with the removal of the blasted bars.
“I believe this belongs to you.” It is spoken so gently as she takes one of your hands in her own and places a very specific tool there before folding your stiffened fingers around with a soft smile. She ignores your confusion as you stare between it and the eyes you now realise belong to royalty.
“Run and never look back. He does not plan for any of you to survive long beyond dawn and you will have to go far further than the rest. I wish you all the luck magic can grant you.”
She’s already moving on to the last few stragglers when a word manages to croak into existence that you hope she understands. Quickly you join the hurry, snatching a hooded cloak to hide your face and not wanting to risk any spells lest you accidentally get trampled in the panic. Every step you take feels lighter and as you break into the open air it feels like the first time you have been able to breathe in your entire life. For one joyous moment you enjoy the cold night air before the brutal reality reminds you that you’ll never be safe here again.
After you flee the kingdom, it’s fringes and then beyond you refuse the novelty of rest when you can keep increasing the distance between there instead. You never once do you risk looking back, not until you’re sure even horseback would struggle and your face will be little more than a travelling curiosity in this unknown town you stumble over. With a bit of difficulty you barter your way to a bed of some kind and the means to bathe wanting to finally be rid of the grime and dirt that has plagued you for so long. It is when you wring the last of the water from your hair that you are oddly reminded of how natural freedom could be where you don’t need to constantly look over your shoulder. Not everything has to be how things did when his laws tightened it’s grip and called for your death. War is coming, there’s no doubt about that now with so many who can carry tales of his cruelty to their homes, and if there’s any mercy left in this world may their noble ‘King’ choke on his victory if a blade doesn’t get him first, you think bitterly.
Secretly though you also hope that she will never be punished for what she did and that maybe you could properly say thank you in person one day...
