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whumpflash · 1 year

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Penumbra: Unwise

(a very belated) Angstpril, Day 29: Mistake (Alt)

cw: illness, beating, violence, war mentions

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Tansy woke to the thin line of dawn on the horizon, their body stiff from sleeping on the wooden floor. They stretched quietly, massaging the back of their neck with one hand, then went to check on Cerus.

The wool blanket was twisted and tangled around his sleeping form, as if he'd been restless all through the night. A little color had returned to his cheeks, but not enough to paint even an illusion of wellness, and there was a sheen of sweat on his pale brow. As they straightened the blankets, he let out a weak, rasping cough.

Cerus was ill, no doubts to be had there, and the cough made them suspect a chest infection. Gone were the thoughts of turning him over to the docks after a single night's rest. Combined with his injuries and malnourished state, recovery wasn't looking particularly bright, and would be impossible should they send him back to work.

They'd have to go into town today and visit the apothecary. A healer's herbs would ease his fever, and a draught of hot wine with honey and garlic should help his lungs. As they pick up their cloak and left their room, Tansy stole a glance back. When Cerus lay unconscious and silent in the bed, his winding black tattoos concealed by the blanket, they could almost forget who it was they were tending to.

Yesterday's rain had cooled the day considerably, and Tansy could see their breath as they stepped into the morning air and made their way towards the town. Their uncle was still asleep when they set off, and they'd left out honeyed bread and smoked fish for his breakfast. Once they returned, they'd prepare a hot meal to warm themselves from the cold, and hopefully coax a little more strength into Cerus.

Out near the water, the villagers were already going about their day. Tansy snuck a glance at the shipyard, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe they'd assumed Cerus had perished in the storm, and couldn't care less.

They didn't know if they should feel more relieved or disturbed by the notion.

Tansy strode into the apothecary, wasting no time in glancing over the bottled teas and herbs and colorful dried fruits on their way to the counter. The elderly man who'd once tended this shop was gone, they knew. Lost to old age or the war, replaced by a woman with a kind face and close-cropped white hair.

Enough had changed in the years since their childhood that they could nearly pretend they weren't home at all, and this was just another strange village. That was easier than the alternative; accepting how unrecognizable their home was now, accepting the fact that they'd come back just as changed.

"Hello dear, did you need a remedy? Sickness comes with the winter. Best to stay prepared."

Tansy offered the woman a smile, trying not to let their expression betray their thoughts. "What do you have for a fever?"

"Ah. Illness already gotten to your household?" she queried, running slender brown fingers along the shelves bottles behind the counter.

"Afraid so," Tansy said, deliberately keeping their answer short.

"I pray those affected make a swift recovery."

You wouldn't if you knew who it was. Or would she? The woman was a healer by trade, but would she have shown mercy to the Shadow King?

The healer selected a pair of jars, slipping a bit of each into a small leather pouch. "Boil a spoonful in water and serve it as a tea. Twice daily," she said, handing Tansy the pouch. "Be well, and be careful on your journey home."

"Careful?" Tansy slid a pair of coins across the wooden counter, tucking the pouch into their cloak. "What for?"

"Did you not hear? The Shadow King has escaped."

Their mouth went bone-dry as the words passed her lips. "Escaped?"

"Aye, he's abandoned his station. No one knows where he's gone, or what trouble he could have brewing."

As if he were capable of even standing right now, much less causing problems. Tansy was tempted to tell her the truth of it, if only to ease her worries, but what would she say? 'Oh I understand. You can't stand to see him suffer. The man who sent armies to raze and kill and burn throughout the kingdom. I understand.'

They kept their mouth shut, giving the woman a short nod, and leaving.

Whispers seemed to follow them as they made their way back through town, and Tansy couldn't tell if the villagers' voices were growing stronger with the daylight, or their sudden fear of discovery was what drove them to hear every word.

'Cerus is gone.'

'I hear he's reclaimed his magic. If that's true, the village is in danger.'

'A party has gone out to find him before it's too late.'

That last murmur quickened their pace. If that was so, they'd have to get to Cerus before anyone else did.

But why? Why not let them claim him before any more trouble came down on Tansy's head? They'd done all they could within the bounds of the law, and going up against a frightened and angry village in Cerus's defense was a fool's errand. Besides, it wasn't as if he wanted their help. He'd made that perfectly clear.

But as they crested the hill and saw their uncle's house in the distance, half-ringed by a dozen men, their heart turned to lead in their chest. And as the door opened and a pair of villagers dragged Cerus outside, throwing his limp form to the ground, Tansy broke into a run.

A few of the men turned their heads as they came up the road, looks of confusion plain on their faces, but any words of explanation lodged in Tansy's throat. What would they say? Ask them to leave Cerus be and go about their business? Apologize for all the fuss and let them drag him back to the docks, where he'd surely die? Neither option seemed right, but they didn't know what else to do.

Brushing off Tansy's intrusion, the party returned their attention to Cerus. A tall man planted a kick in his side, and the movement finally freed Tansy's voice.

"Stop!" they shouted, pushing into the circle. "Can't you see he's sick?"

The men nearest to them exchanged glances. "What of it?" one said.

"Look at him," they snapped, moving to stand between Cerus and the tall man. "He's had enough. He needs to rest."

One of the group, a broad, black-haired fellow, snorted. "Bastard doesn't deserve rest. Stand aside."

"Not unless you swear you won't hurt him," Tansy persisted.

"You a loyalist to the old kingdom?"

They scowled. "No, I–"

"Then stand aside."

Tansy grimaced, tempted to concede, to disappear into Uncle Aldon's house and forget this ever happened. A small, buried part of them found agreement with the black-haired man; the tyrant who'd brought so much despair onto the land didn't deserve a reprieve from his own misery. Then, out of the corner of their eye, they saw the tall man aim another kick at Cerus, his boot connecting with the mass of bandages on the downed man's back, drawing a sound from him that was more a hopeless wail than a cry of pain.

Fuck it.

Tansy whirled around, dealing a well-placed punch to the tall man's jaw and sending him crumpling to the ground. The other men were on them in an instant, but instinct took over before Tansy could second guess their actions. Fighting came naturally to them. They'd never started any brawls at the war camps, but they'd never had any problem finishing them.

They ducked under a ham-fisted strike from the black haired man, popping him in the nose for his efforts.

"Leave him alone," they spat. Around them, the rest of the search party seemed to have overcome their initial surprise. Tansy knew they could put up a hell of a fight, even outnumbered as they were, but instead of lashing out again, they stood in front of Cerus, fists held up in warning.

They took a deep breath, and slowly uncurled their hands. "Listen–"

Someone's fist shot out, hitting them in the stomach before they could react, and they hunched over with a grunt. More blows followed; a punch that grazed their cheekbone, a kick to the back of their knees that sent them to the ground.

"Conspirator, eh?" One of the men spit onto the road. "Thought you said you weren't a loyalist."

"I'm not—" another kick to the gut cut them off, and they curled in on themselves. They were a soldier. They would've cut Cerus down in a heartbeat, should they have met him in battle. They would've burned his castle to the ground. Wielded the executioner's blade themselves.

But they wouldn't kick a man when he was down. No matter who he was.

"We'll have to find somewhere to lock 'em up until the Council hears of this." The black-haired man was addressing the rest of the party now, his voice thick with pain. "I'll die before the Shadow King rises again."

Gods no, it wasn't like that at all. How could they look at Cerus, broken as he was, and even consider that? How could they think Tansy would be willing to help him reconquer the realm?

Anger began to bubble up inside them. At the men, for their ignorance, for their cruelty. At Cerus, the Shadow King, and all he'd done before his fall. At themselves, for being so stupid.

And at the very sea, for compelling them to stop and watch. For drawing their eye to the fallen tyrant's suffering in the first place.

It would've been different, they knew. Had they simply heard Cerus was working at their village's shipyard, they would've avoided the place entirely. Turned a blind eye, like everyone else. It had taken the witnessing of an act of cruelty to force their hand. And would they have still run to his aid, had they known it was the Shadow King? Would they have brought him home and given him their bed, had they known it would end with them lying beaten beside him in the dirt?

No. Yes. It didn't matter.

It didn't matter now.

Calloused hands found Tansy's wrists, and crossed them behind their back, winding cord around and around and tying it tight. Beside them, Cerus—pale and shaking and half-conscious—was given the same treatment.

Tears of frustration burned their eyes as they were hauled to their feet.

"I'm not a loyalist. I fought against him—" they tried again, but were only met with a harsh slap across the face.

"Council will be the judge of that," said the tall man. One side of his jaw was reddened, the sure start of a bruise. "But I know what I saw."

And as they were dragged down the road, side-by-side with the king they'd helped dethrone, the man they'd tried to save, Tansy couldn't help but feel as if they'd made the wrong choice.

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@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chibichibivale @whatwhumpcomments , @dont-look-me-in-the-eye , @turn-the-tables-on-them ,

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