Winter Wildflowers

Chapter 7

Day 36

Time, Ofelia thought, was mysterious. The way people changed with time was mysterious. She couldn't believe that six weeks ago she'd stood at her door extending a soft, rosy palm to catch a gentle falling snowflake. Especially now, considering she'd been thrown to the ground yet again by Knightley, his fisted hand clutching his hilt as he glared down at her. He was seething with fury, seething with pure unadulterated anger. It was as if Ofelia could see the blood rushing up his neck to form the steam gushing out his nostrils. He was unmasked, his hair whipping at his face, his eyes beyond wild. Ofelia was confused.
Gladly would she admit that she hated him, that she was outwardly disgusted and disturbed at his presence, that she'd never spare him a thought beyond loathing and detestation. But, even with her subversive frame of mind, as far as she knew, she hadn't done anything to offend him, nor provoke his anger. His wrath was as discombobulating as the fervent kick to her gut that sent her tumbling. She reeled inwards at the blow, trying to catch her breath.
Knightley didn't say anything, his furious breathing doing all the talking for him. He grunted as he kicked her again, roared as he did it a third. Ofelia gagged, trying to roll to her stomach. "Why- ", She couldn't speak, not even a word.
Knightley stood with his legs apart, his fists by his side, watching her.
"Your nerve.", he spat, advancing on her again.
Ofelia laid still, he'd catch her if she ran. He stopped by her face, "To dare sleep with one of my men.", He hissed before fisting her hair, pulling her face to his.
"I didn't- "
"You- ", He screamed, rotating his hand in her hair, "Are betrothed to me!", He then threw her head before stepping back. "Here!", He hissed, the slide of his sword echoing through the air, "If you're to fight my command, fight like a man!", and he threw it at her, the tip slicing her arm.
Ofelia hissed and clutched her bicep, barely able to breath, let alone rise to fight, "I didn't- ", she wheezed, "I would never- "
"Fight me!", Knightley screamed, interrupting her.
She closed her eyes, tears springing up. She gulped as her arms gave out, dropping her to the ground. A few of Knightley's men lingered from afar, watching. Knightley's breaths were haggard, rage inhibiting every breath. Ofelia's brows furrowed. She wondered what they'd make of poor George, he having sacrificed himself to keep her warm.
"Get. Up.", Knightley hissed.
Ofelia opened her eyes. She didn't know how to fight. She realised she didn't know anything of this world. As her focus came into view she glanced at Knightley, he was growing in anger with every second of silence. She released a breath, pushing herself up again, barely able to maintain her weight. She pushed to a crawl. Then her knees. Then to a kneel. And then in a final heave, she staggered to her feet, eyeing the sword.
"Pick it up!"
Ofelia winced. Never had she anticipated the pain a kick could bring. The full force of Knightley's sabaton. She stumbled but managed to catch herself. With determination, she reached her hand to his sword. Though light, it seemed heavy in her hands.
"I challenge you!", Knightley roared, his eyes ablaze, "Run me through!"
Ofelia leant on the hilt, the tip digging into the dirt as she closed her eyes. She could barely stand!
"Run me through like I did your father.", Knightley spat.
Instantly, Ofelia shot to him like an arrow from a bow. Blood rushed in her ears as she ran, her knuckles splitting at the hilt. Of course, with a swift movement from Knightley, she was unable to land her blow, but little did she stall for with all her fury she swung the sword at him. With hot tears searing her cheeks did she swipe at his legs. With the cry of a dishevelled woman did she aim to lop of his head! With the horrific scream of a young girl did she aim it at his heart.
With the broken spirit of a grieving child did she throw it at him with all her might before sinking to her knees clutching at her heart.
"My father!", She cried, rocking, "You murdered my father!"
Knightley stood a distance away, his anger vibrating the air around him.
"What- What hatred could compel a man to slay- ", she hiccupped with a sob, "To slay my father?!", she dropped her hands to the ground, gagging at the snow, "He was kind! How could you?!"
Knightley's heavy breathing slowly stilled.
"You are a monster!", she shrieked, "A foul, appalling, putrid- !"
"Silence!"
"Detestable, repulsive, heinous- !"
"I said silence!", Knightley roared, charging at her.
"Evil, unforgivable monster!", She screamed, accepting the kick to her side like her father did the sword. She cried into the snow, her hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Little did she care for the men looking at her from afar, little did she care for each blow Knightley attacked her with. Little did she care for anything.
Nothing could ache more than her heart.