The Raven Girl

Chapter 23

Asta stood, clawing at her mind for even a glimpse of an answer to which she could give the King. Of course though, there was none to be found- no fragment, nor shard to present him with- for it seemed at the very moment such an answer was crucial to have prepared, it had somehow got lost in the process, evaporating like smoke into the heavy air.

So, she stood, a confounded expression written on her face without so much as a trace of an answer on her lips. Perhaps she should have attempted to cooperate with this young, needy King, offering him the pathetic tale he begged to hear, yet she was all but exhausted of complying to their endless, trivial conventions: if she had let her guard slip once, she would find herself soon awakened with a slap to the cheek after forgetting lower her gaze. However, it amused him all the more to find her speechless.

"Am I to find that you have forgotten your manners once again? And to think I was so sure we had gotten past this... It is polite to speak when spoken to; I have posed a question, and now I bid you to answer it."

She shook her head violently, the impatience, so blatantly obvious in his wavering tone, making her exceedingly nervous. Unwillingly to back down though, she persisted in her stubborn refusal- it was likely she would be punished regardless of what she did or said now, for running alone was enough to drag her back down into the dungeons, hidden away to be tortured for her disobedience until she accepted their vicious rule over her life without complaint. Nay, with gratitude.

"Can you not speak? Yet, I distinctly remember hearing your little protest a few minutes ago. Could it be that you have forgotten what it was you were telling my brother? Do you wish for a reminder, something to jog your memory? I'm sure he would not mind assisting you with that."

Her heart sank, for there it was, in words: her condemnation. Suddenly, her cowardly mindset kicked in, quickening the pace of her heart, prickling beads of sweat lining her forehead. If she spoke now, maybe she would be spared from whatever this 'reminder' happened to be, maybe she would be allowed to return to the kitchens on smaller rations and harder work, a harsh reminder of what her defiance could lead to, but one that left no permanent damage. No, she scolded- the very idea was ludicrous. There was no way they'd be that kind.

"My memory is clear enough," she began, boldly, "but it is simply not worth telling."

"I think we both know that's not true." He smirked. "Why else would you have run away? Come now, Asta. I'd have thought you had learnt the rules by now. Whatever it is you are holding from us, I can assure you that it is not worth keeping. Rickard will make sure of that."

"It is when the outcome is the same. I will be back there regardless of what I do now." She whispered, her mind wondering onto what would happen next. The ideas made her lightheaded, an intense nausea crawling up her throat with grating fingers, the dizzyness ever increasing. She wasn't ready. She never would be.

"And how can you be sure of that, little raven?"

"How can I be sure of anything?" she returned, unable to tell whether she had actually said this, or merely mouthed the words. She could feel herself swaying a little with the wind, and dearly wished for something she could grip onto, but she refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her falter. Not now.

Through blurred eyes, she could see him raise a hand, and the ground beneath her trembled beneath the armoured weight of guards, who seized the unresisting  Asta. In a sense, she was grateful for their strong grip on her arms, a welcomed support on her weakening stance, but this was almost unrecognisable in her fear for what was to come, for although she seemed to accept her fate on the outside, standing as still as she could have done in her dizzied state as if waiting for them to take her away, she was struggling on the inside, trying desperately to wrench herself away from them.

She watched the King mount his horse in an instant, galloping out in front of them, full trust placed in the guards he had selected to carry out his orders. If she had not felt so very sick, she might have tried to reason with them, beg them to let her free, convince them she would repay them with any means she had, yet her energy had faltered and her sickness had grown, and the men that now surrounded her did not look the type to be swayed by a young girl's bargain.

Instead, she allowed them to lead her back into the castle, silent tears in her eyes. How many times would this happen? How many times would she be driven away, just to be dragged back again, trapped within walls with no windows, in a darkness with no breeze.

She closed her eyes, allowing the coolth of the wind to hit her face once more, breathing in the fresh air for the last time. Just the thought of the freedom she had envisaged for herself too much to bear. How she had wanted to dance, forgetting the sorrow she had learnt to bear and regaining her youth, in that short moment in time, yet it had been stripped from her. Why hadn't she seen it coming?

They went through endless doors and endless corridors, the frivolous layout of the castle making her almost miss the simple, stark surroundings of her home- the one her brothers and father so eagerly wanted to leave. It seemed odd to say the least that they had thought it a burden, living away from all this when they had not experienced it at all. Why, she would have been quite content to have lived there, without the shadow of her family, if they had not made it so repulsive and stifling- she would not even have left if it hadn't have been for their arrangement, the one she was paying for right now.

Then, she saw it: the door marked with blood and splintered wood. Her sleepy demeanour was instantly set about, and she scrambled away from it, the guards surprised at her sudden resistance. Still, it did not take them long to regain their grip on her, forcing the door open and shoving her through the gap, where in which the ominous glow of a candle could be seen, flickering in the darkness. Someone was waiting there, and it didn't take much work to realise who it was.

"No!" She screamed, clawing at the door, trying to pry it open. "Please! Let me out!" Her fingers rattled the handle, fists pounding away at the wood, heavy and splattered with dried blood, her eyes filled to the brim with fearful tears. "Please..." 

Collapsing at the foot of the door, she gave in, knowing that there was none to listen, none except him, who stood there silently, surveying the scene. She backed away as far as she could, forcing herself into the doorway, aware of his presence.

The candle began to move towards her, and her fingers clung to the stone in her terror so forcefully that she was sure she could feel a warm, sticky sensation form round the tips of her fingers and ragged nails. She couldn't care and gave no concern over them, for she could feel no pain except for that which this figure would soon give her. 

"Why must you torment me so?" She snivelled, voice shrill and laced with panic. "I have not done any wrong!"

"I warned you." came Rickard's stern reply, confirming both her guesses and her fears. "I warned you not to leave, I told you of the consequences, yet you still ran. You wished this upon yourself, Asta. Do not think this my fault."

"It is your fault! You asked a question I could not answer-"

"So you ran. That makes perfect sense. Have you a similar reason why you ran the first time then, from your family? Did they ask you a question you could not answer too?"

"You wouldn't know."

"Well maybe I would have if you'd told me, but instead you did what I told you not to, knowing you'd be caught and punished. I don't have a choice now- my brother has made sure of that- but you had one, before your futile escape. You are to blame, so do not shrink away from me when I am talking to you." 

She could hear the anger in his voice, every word coming out as a command, and gingerly, she pulled herself away from the door, breathing shallow and quick.

"Don't do this." She begged, one last time.

"Then tell me what you should have told me before." He replied, voice cold and unsympathetic to her misery.

She shook her head. "I can't."

"Then I can't stop."