15.9.15, Tues

A/N: cont'd

#2 - Part two of an angsty retelling of the Freylin arc.

Because I Adore Freylin Angst For Some Reason Even Though I Thought I Loved The Characters Too Much To Hurt Them But Am Secretly Some Kind Of Sadist When It Comes To My OTP And The Feels I Associate With Them And Their Tragic End

OR

Star-Cross'd Lovers

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

She had brown hair and brown eyes and magic. She was a sweet child who was well brought up by her loving parents, who taught her what she needed to know in order to survive in the world. She heeded their lessons well, for there were always examples for them to draw on in those dark days, but the girl was kind and innocent and incapable of believing in her heart that she would ever truly need the knowledge of the harsh world. She listened and obeyed when the fire was dying and the nights were cold, but when the morning came she often forgot the tales of cruel men and death and betrayal and hatred and tragedy.

She was only a girl, after all.

Before long, the girl had grown from a skinny, tiny child to a willowy, tiny adolescent, fresh-faced and beautiful, just like her mother. Her magic had grown too, and it was almost too powerful for her to control. So, her parents began to teach her to master her gifts: they had only shown her the smallest of spells before, because even in their haven by the lake they lived in the shadow of the cruel king from far away. The girl learned well and steadily for a time, and all was good. She did not notice her parents' worry in her eagerness to be one with her gifts, however, and before long she was wandering off into the woods alone to carry out her tasks.

One day, she set off on his journey with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips. She travelled merrily through the woods, as she always did, and eventually found the herbs she was searching for. The girl rose to return home and frowned. She had wandered far further than she had thought, and she worried that she would not quite make her way back for dusk. She began to walk quickly back the way she had come, and in her rush, she left a trail through the woods where she walked. As dusk grew ever nearer, she hurried even faster, stumbling and falling in her haste. The basket she carried was flung into the bushes nearby. The girl almost tripped again as she frantically made to retrieve it - but ere she could, a dark shape emerged. He - for young man it was - loomed into her view and growled out a threat. The girl was frightened out of her mind, and she had not yet learned to master her gifts. When the man made to grab her she let out a cry and her power, unbidden, flung him away and into a tree. Whimpering, the girl shivered as she crouched in the hollow of a tree, staring at her attacker. It wasn't until the sun had long since set and the moon had risen that she fully took in her situation. Blinking, she shuffled her way over to the man and squinted in the shade of the tree. His neck was broken. Looking about her, the girl let out a small sob. She could go neither forwards or back until daylight came, and she did not think she could spend the night opposite a dead man - especially not one she herself had killed.

The girl fell to her knees and cried, not caring that she might attract the attentions of some wild beast, and not knowing she might yet attract the attention of one far worse. The Fates were cruel to her, however, and before long an old woman came upon her. The woman had the same appearance as the trees surrounding her, all gnarled and twisted, a sneer fixed firmly to her face. She had come searching for her son, who had not arrived home at the proper time, and now she found him lying cold and stiff on the forest floor, his killer weeping not two feet away from his body. The old woman was a sorceress, and when she understood that the girl's magic had lashed out and killed her son she cried tears of fury. She howled her son's name into the crisp night air and shrieked and gave the mourning wail, tearing her hair out as she did so. She raised a hand to the girl, now frozen in terror, and screamed a curse.

The girl was horrified as she felt a change come upon her. She began screaming herself as the pain of transformation flooded her system and a new mind sprang into being within her, overriding her own. Her screams turned to roars as her human flesh became something else entirely and the old woman, frightened now, realised fully what she had done, raising her eyes skyward in disbelief.

The girl remembered no more, but later she would understand what must have happened.

The old woman, seeing that the girl had killed her son, had in turn cursed the girl to kill forever more. She had uttered the curse before midnight, however, and as a consequence the curse had immediately taken deadly effect. The girl had transformed but moments after the old woman had cursed her, and the creature she became had had to satisfy its urges with the life of its creator.

When the girl woke up the next morning, she was naked on the ground at the edge of the lake beside her village. Scared and alone, she ran into the nearby treeline and huddled inside the bushes. Eventually, she calmed enough to realise that her parents must be looking for her, and she slowly, cautiously began to make her way back home.

Having bathed hurriedly in the lake, snuck into the empty house and clothed herself in her only other dress, the girl went to the centre of the village to proclaim her safe return and summon her family back from their frantic search. There was a tearful reunion, with hugs and scoldings aplenty. Whilst the girl felt that she ought to inform her parents of the events of that night, she was too frightened and confused to do so. She put her disappearance down to a simple case of losing her way, and her family believed her without question. As night fell, however, the girl began to become fearful again. The old woman had cursed her to kill forever more, and, having only been educated in the healing arts thus far, the girl had no notion of the specifics of the curse, nor even the manner of beast she had become. Afraid that she may transform again that very night, the girl crept out of the house once its occupants were asleep. She ran as far away from the village as she could, more certain with every step that she would indeed be subject to the curse again once midnight struck.

She was wise to do so, for, hours into her run, she fell to the ground screaming as the beast clawed its way into her head and her body transformed to match. Again, she remembered nothing of the night she spent in the wilds, but this time she woke up just on the outskirts of her home village. Trembling from the cold - she had woken skyclad once again - the girl entered the house and gagged at what she saw. The beast must have travelled all the way back to her home in order to make its kill, for within the house was the body of the old man who lived there. He had been torn apart by a set of huge razor-sharp claws and his throat bitten out. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, the girl edged her way along the wall towards the clothes-chest by the bed. She rummaged inside it and, removing a moth-bitten dress and a pair of boots, she swiftly dressed herself and ran out of the cottage. Breathing deeply, she checked the position of the sun and saw that it was early enough for her to make it back to her own family with the excuse of the privy. Glancing back at the old man's home, she thought that he would not be found for at least a few weeks, and by then winter would hold the lake-people in its thrall and no-one would discover him til the spring. That was the curse of living as a recluse on the edge of town.

Shuddering, the girl made her way back to her home. As she had predicted, they had not missed her greatly, and again, they accepted her lie for the truth without question. Her main worry then was that she was now sure that she was to transform - and kill - every night. One lonely old man on the edge of the village was one thing. A victim - or family of victims - every night would raise questions she could not answer. Her only hope, she felt, was to put herself out of harms' way first. If she could place herself near the houses of people like the old man, people who wouldn't be missed until it was too late, if she couldonly manage that for a few days, then perhaps, just perhaps, her recent disappearance would not be associated with the killings. Loathe as the girl was to allow the beast to kill again (and again, and again, and again) she was overwhelmed by her fear of being discovered, of being cast out.

For several nights, she succeeded in the task she had appointed for herself. She would routinely creep away from her family and the core of the village and go to where she knew there was a lone or elderly resident and then undress and wait for the beast to snatch her up. In the morning, she would wake naked and cold, and then stagger into the bushes to find her clothes and head for home before her family noticed her gone. After nearly a week, however, there were no more elders or recluses to sacrifice to the beast within and the girl was getting desperate. The next night, she decided to leave the victim to a lottery, placing herself far away from the town and hoping that the beast would be kind and not head straight for the young family in the farmstead. Though she tried not to think too much about it, she was running out of options and fast. Before long the beast's death toll would be noticed and she would be exposed.

The morning after she chose to leave it to chance, the girl woke just outside of the home of the poor young family living on the edge of the village. Finding their bodies inside, the husband, the wife and their two little children, the girl screamed and cried and tore at her hair. She was barely out of childhood herself and yet already her life was not worth living, and by continuing to do so she was endangering the lives of all those around her.

But still, she could not stop.

Winter came to the village. It was easier to cover up the missing when the snow drifts meant that the villagers couldn't check on their neighbours with any regularity. Thankfully, the beast had not killed another child yet, but many grandparents and young couples had been lost to its thirst for blood. The village's radius, ever-decreasing, was blocked on all sides by the lake and the forest and the snow. The girl had grown pale and gaunt in her misery, though most of the villagers had grown the same once captured in winter's thrall. Her family still did not worry for her mental wellbeing, as she did everything in her power to keep her ailment from them. She cried herself to sleep every night then, in the hopes of catching her cold in the snow and dying before the beast took her. Her wish was never granted, and she could never find it in herself to do anything other than uphold the pretence of normality.

The village grew smaller each night for weeks before those living at its heart discovered the bodies.

There were cries of mourning and outrage and revenge, and the girl grew frightened once more that her terrible secret might be found out. She had nothing to fear, though, as the villagers were all quite certain that it was some migrating creature picking off the defenceless, running rings around the village as it spiralled towards its centre. In fact, as the days and nights dragged onward, and the village grew smaller, it seemed that most were concerned for her safety and the safety of her family. According to the beast's pattern, the next home to be taken was hers, and as she went about her business one day, each remaining villager bade her and her family a tearful farewell. There was no question of them moving out - no-one wished to place another family in danger, even at the cost of their own. The girl felt shame well up in her as she watched and participated in the goodbyes, for she had not the courage to give herself up in exchange for her people, even when it seemed that every on of them would have done so for her. As the sun set on her home and the last well-wisher scurried away, the girl wanted to scream at them that it was not necessary, that she would never allow the beast to take her own family, never!

Oh, how she wept that morning when, despite having settled outside the home of the third of the three families remaining, the girl woke inside her own house, soaked in the blood of her mother and father and little sisters.

Stupefied, she cried over their bodies all that day and well into the night until before she realised it was yet time, she became the beast again and tore her way out of her old home. When she woke the next morning, both families were dead, slaughtered in their homes, and the sun rose crimson on the melting snow as the village was finally freed from the icy grasp of the winter.

She didn't move all that day. When her transformation came, she did not even attempt to counter it. She simply let it take her to the next kill, not caring where she landed. When she woke the next morning, she found herself in an unfamiliar forest next to the body of a young man. Upon further examination, he appeared to have been a druid. Dully, she began to wander the woods in search of his camp in the hopes of a bed and a plate of gruel. She no longer prayed for a cure. Eventually, when her feet were bleeding and her limbs numb with cold, the girl was found by the druids from the young man's camp. Seeing the mark on her arm that showed her to be one of their own, they gladly took her in and bathed her and clothed her. They gave her the expected gruel and bed, though they were a little surprised at the early hour at which she retired. Happy as they were to have found one of their own, they had also lost one of their own and their faces showed a grim undercurrent of emotion when they believed her to be looking elsewhere. At last, the camp was asleep and midnight came. The beast tore its way into a tent on the edge of the camp and destroyed its occupant savagely. It seemed that the girl's initial fear had trained the beast into an irrevocable hunting pattern. How ironic that the spiral, symbol of her people, had turned now to the pattern of their destruction...

This time, however, the druids were able at once to make the connection. Kind but firm, they wrangled her story from her and sagged in horror as they watched the thin, pale girl with the haunted eyes recount a tale of woe and terror such as they had thought only existed around the campfire. Sympathetic, but afraid and disgusted by her past and her course of inaction, they informed her that she was a bastet, even going to far as to show her an illustration in an old book before they asked that she please leave at once.

Too sick and tired to tell them of the futility of their request, the girl set out anyway. She made it as far as the forest's edge when she became the beast. Waking up in the camp once more, again surrounded by carnage, she mused distantly that she must have flown back. Flown. She didn't think putting a name to her beast made it any less of a monster, nor that knowing exactly how it went so far so fast at all aided her in her predicament. The druids, now purse-lipped and stern, circled her and began to chant a spell of transportation. She thought for a moment, once she arrived in the small town, that those druids hadn't been much use at all. It would have been better to kill her and save her from her sorry existence than to let her live, knowing that every night at least one more person would die. Then she thought of how she herself wasn't very druidic by that standard - after all, if she were, she ought to have killed herself of given herself up immediately rather than carry on living and killing.

The town they'd landed her in wasn't much of a place. For a fortnight, she managed to scrape a living off the streets, discovering that failure to eat would result in the beast - the bastet - taking nourishment from its victims instead. By the end of the first week, the missing persons had been noticed. By the end of the second, the people had connected the killings with the appearance of the newest beggar-girl in town. By the beginning of the third week, the townsfolk had summoned a bounty hunter and had her thrown into a filthy cage, shackled and lying in a pile of straw that was rotted and foul.

The bounty hunter told her quite cheerfully that he was taking her to Camelot, to King Uther, who was sure to pay a generous sum for a druid girl. She croaked back at him that he had better hurry up about it and that she was cursed to kill at midnight each night. The large oaf paled rather, but he was not discouraged. He told her that she would probably fetch an even higher price then, given the mad king's hatred for monsters of the occult. She simply sagged back into the rank straw, not even able to muster up the energy to protest when, at a quarter to midnight when they had stopped at an inn, the bounty hunter tossed in a barmaid, drugged and gagged. He didn't stay to watch the change, but when he came to drive the cage away the next day, he left the body inside til they passed a ditch at midmorning.

The journey continued in the same manner for five days before they finally reached the famed white city of Camelot. The girl thought that if she had seen it before, she might have felt awe and wonder, or perhaps fear and oppression. It did not matter. She could feel nothing now, and surely never would again. The only meaning that this city held for her was the end of her suffering, at long, long last.