The Tale Teller

Ch 18

 Branoff was so much stronger than Vaun. He was built like a cliff face and felt like one against Vaun's fist. He didn't fight back though, instead, he lay on the grass where Vaun had pulled him down to and welcomed the hits no matter where they were delivered.

His expression was empty, eyes cold from all emotion. It only made Vaun grit his teeth and punch him even harder.

Soon, it became too much though. Fighting only drained what little energy he had, especially when it was against someone who didn't fight back, which only made him want to hit harder.

"Fuck you!" Branoff didn't flinch as it was yelled down into his face. Vaun was on top of him, and climbing off he made sure to give the man's side a good kick. "Why, Branoff?"

He blinked in response, opening his mouth before closing it again, eyes locked on the clouds above. It made Vaun want to start hitting him all over again.

"Ye've never had a wife." His voice was small, far off. Vaun scoffed.

What kind of line was that? A wife had nothing to do with this.

"You're telling me you killed your own sister, and then you talk about wives?"

Branoff turned his head, finally meeting Vaun's eyes. The empty expression didn't change. "No one would marry her, not even ye."

"You wanted to be rid of Lissy, fine. That doesn't justify her death."

"Ye don't think I know that?"

"Then why, Branoff?" As he lifted his head, Vaun grabbed him by the throat, tossing it right back down again. He kept his hand there, making sure to hold enough pressure to let the man know that no matter how much of a weaker party he may be, he meant business.

Lissy had been a sweet girl, and Vaun had cared about her. The rage wasn't easing to allow her death to sink in, but it was accepted enough for the need for revenge to be there.

"Ye've never had to watch ye're woman give birth to a corpse. Ye don't wake in the night to ye're youngest's coughs. Ye don't know fear and pain until ye've a wife and kiddies, Vaun. I need to feed them. Them. My family. I couldn't afford her, ye knew that."

"And so that's my fault?" It almost sounded like it.

"No. It's no one's fault. It's the fault of this fucked up land, if anything." At that, he waved a hand to the area around them, before giving Vaun a rough shove off him. Vaun fell away like a leaf pushed aside by the wind.

"She was your responsibility."

Branoff sat up, his blank expression breaking to show that pitiful stare he had held when first opening the wagon doors. "I know. That's why I had to do it. She's safe now, I know that."

"That's what this was about?" Would she not be safe back home in the village, perhaps living with a few other single girls if not with Branoff? Surely there had been some other option rather than this?

"I suppose. She was going to die anyway had the guards got to her. It's only a matter of time before they reach the mountains to enforce their new ways. If she's not there, they can't pick her out and stick her on the end of one of their swords."

"They wouldn't have done that."

"No?" Branoff turned to him, an eyebrow raised and a sure look on his face. He picked himself off the ground, dusting down his breeches. "Vaun, I know you've seen more than me, and I've seen enough."

There was nothing Vaun could say to that, for the memories rushed back of the boy in Darkharbour, Blue Anne and her inn in Appleton, Opan, Corum. Branoff was right.