Winter Wildflowers

Chapter 13

Day 140

Ofelia was dazed. Her mind spun and she was sensitive in the skull. She couldn't remember too much of what had led her to this state, but she knew it was somewhat related to Knightley and his violent actions. She winced as the horse below her shimmied, squeezing her eyes shut. It was only when she opened her eyes did she realise that her old friend the sack was back over her eyes and her wrists were tied. A frog jumped in her throat and panic settled in. She whimpered and wriggled but was quickly put to rest by a hand placed on her arm. She then realised she was sat in front of Knightley. She couldn't quite still her head, but she felt his steel chest brush her back with every step. Dreary again, she bowed her head and leant forward to avoid him.

Again, she woke mask over her face, hands bound tight. She wasn't on the horse anymore, it seemed that the men had gone to sleep, and she had been strung against a post. She didn't know why she was bound, she hadn't run when she was able bodied, why would she now? Hunger pains stabbed at her, and her mind throbbed. She couldn't remember simple details, how long had she been on the road? Where was Knightley? She wanted to see her father. She had the shallow knowledge that he had passed, but her want to have him hold her ran so much deeper. It was as if it would bring him back to her.

Again, for another day she wordlessly rode in front of Knightley. It was once when she had slept especially deep that she woke up resting on him, her back slumped on his chest, her head facing upwards his chin. She sat back up with a wince. He didn't say a word.

It was a day after that, when Knightley still let her don his horse, that the blurriness of the situation began to dissipate. Knightley had struck her so hard he had damaged her mind, so hard that her teeth seemed to wriggle in her jaw. Ofelia slowly stretched her mouth, pressing her palm to her cheek. His sword was missing, no doubt he was mad, Ofelia was upset also, she was frustrated and hurt at his actions, but she was sad most of all. Perhaps a little betrayed.

It was that night, when the men were roaring by their fires, laughing, and drinking, that Ofelia finally curled up into a ball and fell to the ground, closing her eyes. She winced as she rested her head, sniffling through her nose and exhaling as smoothly as she could. She hurt all the way through, from her skin to her heart. She listened through the noise. She guessed that they were in a forest, she could hear an owl somewhere.
She had been hit so many times, but at the severity and what felt like traitorous nature of this one, pierced her heart more than she'd have liked.

It was at this point that a memory of her father struck her. An old memory of him putting on her boots after she'd whined over and complained about them for an entire morning. They were thicker than all the other girl's boots, furrier too, and the straps were plentiful and ugly looking. She remembered how he'd chased her around the house until her mother had caught her, held her tight as her father hastily tied the shoe up her calf. She'd only been small at the time, she remembered crying and carrying on. It was then that her mother released a chuckle, and her father defeatedly shook his head. She watched them share a look. Then her father set her down and sent her to go play in the snow, watching knowingly -smugly- when her face lit up. They were warm and they weren't coming off like last year's. Her mother blew her a kiss and Ofelia blew one back, though her hands were too small to make it look graceful.

Ofelia sadly smiled. And a hot tear sailed down her cheek as she sniffled and gulped.
"We've arrived at the mainland.", Knightley's still strangely tense voice came from the darkness, breaking through the silence.
Ofelia's eyes widened and she tried to look at him, but remembered her mask as she did. The mainland?! No! She should've asked how long she had. She could have prepared herself. She cleared her throat and gaped before turning back to the ground. She couldn't marry Knightley. She couldn't. He'd only made it worse, festered her defiance with his recent abuse. Ofelia coughed. She was tired.
"You wonder why you are masked.", Knightley noted, moving closer by the sounds of it.
Ofelia closed her eyes again. She gulped as she felt him kneel behind her, a palpable moment of thick silence as he waited there. A soft gasp leapt in her throat as his bare hands undid the strings at her neck. She stilled. His hands were warmer than she'd expected, hands so capable of damage, now so gentle. Her heart squeezed hard.
"How can you- ", she croaked, her voice drowning out as she swallowed. How could he treat her as such? How dare he be gentle with her.
Knightley sighed and pulled the strings from her, peeling the sack fabric up over her face, lifting her head as he slid it out from under her. Ofelia adjusted to the moonlight, studying the stars.
"We're to be wed in three days.", Knightley quietly said, rolling up the sack in his hands.
Ofelia clamped her eyes shut and turned her face into the frosty ground, "You have been blinded so that- "
"How could you hurt me so?", Ofelia finally whispered, turning behind to catch Knightley close his eyes. She watched him, unable to stop the pain in her eyes, the shakiness in her voice, "I am in pain Knightley... I have lost the strength of my mind... because of you.", she whimpered, her voice catching on the last word.
Knightley opened his eyes again and Ofelia couldn't look away from him. It appeared she was all heart. She shouldn't have said her next words, she should have kept them to herself, Knightley didn't deserve to have another thing to hold against her, but they were pounding on her throat. Like an army of bats to a cave entrance.
"I had begun to trust you, Knightley. Isn't that what you want? Power- ? "
"Do not say that you trust me.", He sharply interrupted, clenching his fists.
Frustration melted through Ofelia, hot and wet, seeping through her. Instant tears began to pool up in her eyes, "How- ", she stuttered, trying to pick herself up, "I- I have nothing else to lean upon.", She stumbled, holding herself up with an arm, "You are all I have left. You. My father's murderer."
Knightley's face changed then. The tenseness he'd borne against her for the last nights disappeared and his eyes shone with an unexpected bitterness.
"How could you ask me to marry you, Knightley?", Ofelia squeaked, her strong façade replaced by the young girl she was within, "To respect you, to care for you, to never leave you... When you have- ", she sobbed and turned away, picking herself up to rest on her knees, "How could you expect me to love you- ?"
"You are becoming a great!", he suddenly bellowed, rising on his feet. He looked wild, "Look at yourself!", He yelled, and Ofelia burst into tears. She hated who she had become.
"I have killed men- fathers! Because of you.", she seethed, her mind spinning.
"You will be great because of me!", he roared, grabbing Ofelia by her tender throat, he bore into her eyes, "What does trust matter when it is so bleedingly obvious that I have only sought to benefit you in every way?!"
It the dawned to Ofelia then that Knightley didn't see himself as what he was, he saw himself as helping her. He didn't see his abuse as detrimental, as spiralling her into madness as she now recognised, he saw it as strengthening her with every blow, as hardening her, as making her valuable, no matter how much it hurt. It rooted from his views that value and dominance coincided. He was making her into something worthy, something dominant and unbeatable.
Ofelia gaped for a moment, before her heart exploded, "Look at me!", she finally screamed, her throat scratching with her volume.
And with that, they silenced, and Ofelia's quiet sobs echoed around them.
It seemed to finally hit Knightley and he softened his grip on her throat. She wasn't one of his men. She hadn't wanted to be treated as such, and most definitely hadn't deserved to. A thought Knightley hadn't seemed to care for previously.
"You do not even know my name.", Ofelia croaked. She then cried and slumped, resting her hands on her thighs, sobbing. Knightley was thoughtfully quiet. Ofelia rested against his hand holding her up, only lifting her face when Knightley tilted it. With the other hand he swiped the pesky lock away from her face and thumbed away the tears under her eyes.
He cleared his throat and swallowed as he watched her.
Ofelia struggled to regulate her breaths, "Hurting me will never make me love you.", she shakily ground out.
Knightley listened.
"I- ", she started, unsure if she was going to regret her words, "I cannot be your wife and a warrior.", She murmured, "... Not at heart."
It felt like she had just sold herself.
Knightley didn't disagree with her, instead he held her face strong, intently looking over her features, from brow, to eyes, to bruised cheek, to nose, to lips. He didn't speak his thoughts for a while, letting himself think. Ofelia pressed her bound hands to her jaw, wincing at it and Knightley mindlessly lifted his hand to replace hers. Ofelia was tired and in agony, no doubt she looked awful. Her mind was hazy, her heart was sore and so she leant into his warm hand, resting her eyes for a moment despite the churning in her gut.
How had she come to this? Only days ago had he hit her so hard she still hadn't recovered, Only weeks ago had he left her to die, only months ago had he killed her father, and yet she sat there nestling into his palm like a neglected animal.
He hummed and stroked her jaw. Ofelia lazily opened her eyes to come face to face with Knightley's returned sword in his sheath, hung beside a bloody pendant she'd seen on one of the Gypsy women a few nights before.
"... You killed them.", Ofelia whispered, lifting her hands to the jewel.
Knightley blinked himself back and removed his hands from her face, gently covering the pendant with his hand.
"... Yes."