[ P ] When Doves Cry

In

the belly of the dungeon, hours passed so slowly that Willow began to wonder if time was going by at all. Maybe she was in some sort of mysterious, dark place where the passage of time no longer existed. A enigmatic place between life and destruction. An unreal reality from which there was no escape.

Except… there were ways out of the dungeon — if someone knew the right wolves, could pull the right strings. Willow did not count herself among those fortunate few. She didn’t know any of the guards, only a few of the protestors in the same predicament as her. Her family was not wealthy, and it seemed coin spoke louder than justice…

Her empty belly rumbled and a soft sigh escaped her lips. It seemed unusually quiet that day — night? There was no way to know for certain as the wolfess leaned against the cold bars of her jail cell. At least her body was acclimating to the cold temperatures below ground. The usually optimistic femme couldn’t think of much else positive about the situation.

When her imagination was not roaming freely throughout the dark recesses of her mind, Willow was consumed by thoughts of her family, and the College, as well as everyone she knew there... especially Gallagher. Once more, she willed herself to keep calm and not to cry, despite the crushing despair of the dungeons. The guards didn’t deserve to see that their cruelty was effective.

A creaking sound on the opposite side of the prison caught her attention. Dull green eyes turned with only mild interest in the direction of the noise. To her great surprise, a guard was heading in her direction, and she winced unconsciously as he stopped before her cage. In silence, the glaring brute ushered her from within the cell, shoving Willow roughly until she was taken up, up, above ground again, where a dark night awaited the astonished she-wolf.


@Kylar @Nephele

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

The simple act of bribery had, at first, seemed nauseatingly easy. When the idea to ask Anteros for help had first popped into her head, Kylar had been worn down and weary with her wife crying against her chest. Needing to get Willow out of jail—no matter the dissonance that still lingered within Kylar's heart—had taken the forefront of her mind. She wanted to believe that Willow was innocent, that there had been a mistrial, that—that—that this system wasn't inherently flawed. And yet she had got a bag of coins from her ex-lover to toss at some guard in order to bring Willow back. Kylar's desire for righteousness and order had made a small part of her want the coins to be rejected, for the system and its guards to be strong enough to resist the temptations of wealth. Of course, her desire to save her daughter was stronger—but a small part of her wanted to be able to believe in this system just a fraction more.

And while it was difficult to find a bribeable guard and they had to rely on Anteros' connections once more, they had found one. Her coins—more than she had ever held in her entire life—were swept away. She and Nephele were told to wait in the thick shadows of a crumbling archway just beyond the dungeon's entrance and the guard turned without a second glance.

Kylar had pressed her side into her wife's for warmth and comfort. All that was left was to anxiously wait.

...

Willow exited the dungeon and, while her fur was lackluster and limp, she was the most beautiful thing that Kylar had ever seen. For a moment, her doubts were forgotten. Her heart thumped within her chest as she and Neph waited for the dungeon door to softly thump shut—as that was the cue that would release them. When it did, Nephele raced forward first to drown their daughter in kisses and hugs while Kylar limped foreward, her injured leg more swollen than it had been in her children's memories. Kylar's eyes welled with tears as she approached. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking Willow over for any bumps or bruises, her voice uncharacteristically soft but just as concerned as ever.

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espite the darkness of the night, it would take a few seconds for Willow’s eyes to adjust to being back on solid, normal ground. As she blinked, eyes becoming clearer, she saw two figures rushing toward her. The tri-color fae winced automatically, the trauma of her experiences evident in her fearful response.

But a cry parted her maw at the sight of those who awaited her departure from the dungeons — not one, but both of her mothers. Soon, she was embraced by their maternal affection, and her tail wagged in joyful response. ”Y-yeah, I’m fine.” As the initial shock began to wear off, the questions began to creep into her consciousness.

”How — how did you know? Did Anthe tell you?” Part of Willow was afraid to hear the answer, and her eyes fell in embarrassment. She had asked her sister not to tell, but certainly word would have arrived in Melrose by now. ”I didn’t think — I didn’t know if anyone would come for me.” She stifled her weeping; now was not the time. With a shudder, her vision raised to look toward the north. She was anxious to leave, and while she was puzzled by how she got out, she was more interested in going back to the safety of Haven.

If had not yet occurred to Willow that Haven could no longer be her home.

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Kylar's heart broke as she saw Willow's immediate, knee-jerk response of fear. While it was short-lived, Willow's reaction made Kylar's stomach twist. Was this because of the dungeon? The protest? What did they do to her? She recalled how brave her little girl usually was, so unafraid save for when they'd gone to the big city. At the ball, Willow had been uncharacteristically shy then as well, but Kylar had waved that away on nerves and their larger-than-life setting. But there were no glittering lights or spiced meats here. Instead, it was a barren field surrounded by crumbling stone away from the dungeon's main entrance.

Willow gingerly melted into Nephele's warm embraces, the shock steadily fading away just as her shackles had. The girl's answer of being fine was hardly convincing, and Kylar smiled weakly back, extending her nose to brush away a bit of grime from her daughter's cheek. What happened to you? And, of similarly importance, why had it happened? Was the system that Kylar wanted to rely on so deeply broken? Had Willow fallen into a rough group of wolves and her kind nature had been manipulated into violence? Was there one clean answer to these questions?

”How — how did you know? Did Anthe tell you?”
"Anthe?" Kylar's brow furrowed immediately, realizing that Anthe must have visited the dungeon of her own accord. While a protective, frustrated flare warmed her chest, she shook her head to stifle it. That was not what was important in this moment. "No, no—of course we'd come for you, little bug," Kylar breathed, blinking back the tears. Willow was doing the same and, if Nephele could see, she knew that she might laugh. They might have found Willow and her siblings in a grove in the Lowlands all those years ago, but Willow had certainly inherited Ky's tendency to cry. "Let's get to a safer place first," Kylar answered, nosing her daughter again. "Can you walk?"

...

When they were a little ways away, Kylar finally said the truth. "I was there that day, for the protest. I saw a man tear apart a merchant's stall and then I helped the soldiers where I could after that." As she recounted the story, she did not look at Willow or Nephele, just the road ahead. She knew how Nephele felt about the violence but she tried to steel herself against allowing her own self-wallowing pity over that to stop her. "And my heart broke when I saw you in the courtroom, I knew it had to be a mistake—" Kylar paused, again with fresh tears in her eyes as she found her daughter's gaze. "It was a mistake, right?"

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ylar spoke of mistakes, and Willow was tendered speechless. Her Mum looked into her eyes with tears welling, and a sick feeling ruminated in her stomach. She had been there, too. Why had either of the Fritz women be there that day? Willow’s thoughts were hazy. Fighting on opposite sides… ”It was a mistake, right?"

”You have to understand, Mum. I know what you saw, the destruction. But you didn’t see what I witnessed.” She had never spoken out against her mothers — there had never been a reason to. But Willow felt sincere as she said passionately, ”A huge soldier was biting a lady’s neck! And my ear — just look what he did to my ear.” Her right ear, healing poorly due to lack of medical intervention, was tattered at the tip. ”He could have done much worse.”

”I didn’t want it to end like that. It wasn’t intended to be like that, I just — I had to. I was scared of him, but more scared of what he could do.” Willow nervously looked between her mothers, with some dim semblance of hope that the two would understand. As there was no point in hiding any bit of truth from her mothers, Willow continued hurriedly. ”That was the one that I took down. Him.” She added, ”There were mistakes on all sides, Mum. But what I did wasn’t a mistake. She needed help. The people need help.”

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

”You have to understand, mum," Willow began, her grass-green eyes wet with tears. This beginning caused Kylar's black-tipped ears to flick back, her stomach twisting in knots because thise was not the yes, yes, it was a mistake! she had wanted. Kylar's strained, limping steps slowed so that she could focus on her daughter and the rising of her own heartrate.

”A huge soldier was biting a lady’s neck! And my ear — just look what he did to my ear.”
Kylar's brow creased with concern, then her gaze turned to Willow's ear. She gasped, unable to contain her sorrow at the sight of her daughter's wounds. But it wasn't just sorrow that she felt—but a mounting frustration too. An impulsiveness and righteousness that perhaps her and her daughter shared, even if they had stood upon opposite sides. "Who could have done that to you? What kind of soldier—!?" Her heart was in turmoil, her stomach in twists. Should Willow have been in those streets in the first place? The mother in Kylar said no. But the soldier in her, or the knight rather, felt an odd burst of pride.

Willow had protected someone—had acted in the way that she had been taught: to pursue justice. Justice didn't always have the same uniform... as Kylar was now learning.

”That was the one that I took down. Him. There were mistakes on all sides, Mum. But what I did wasn’t a mistake. She needed help. The people need help.”

...

After a moment of silence, she moved to pull her little one into a tight squeeze. It made her lame leg ache more from the pressure, but Kylar didn't dare release. Fresh tears welled within her eyes and she blinked them back, burrowing her nose into Willow's sandy fur the very color of her own.

"You did the right thing," Kylar breathed, at last feeling that terrible weight ease off of her chest. "You did the right thing, I'm proud of you," she said shakily, licking down some stray tufts that had been tousled.

I am sorry that I ever doubted you.

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o Willow’s great surprise, Kylar was not upset. Willow had done the right thing, even if she had paid a sacrifice for following the moral code instilled within her. Her attention fell to Kylar’s swollen leg, and her face contorted in confusion and alarm. Even in the dark, she could see it was injured. And if Mama couldn’t fix it up herself… Then how serious was it? ”What happened, Mum? Your leg…” The realization occurred to Willow, and her sorrowful facade melted into simmering anger. ”From the protest?”

Her voice came halting and with renewed distress, this time with concern for her mother — and anger at the guards who had allowed this to happen. ”You tried — to help them—“

”The king’s guards were there — and — they didn’t do enough to protect you, or the others who got swept up. If they were even trying to protect,” she huffed. ”They shouldn’t need help. And shouldn’t have to fight their battles. You — you’re getting older. Uh, no offense,” she added quickly.

Green eyes turned between her mothers, emotion written clearly across her features. ”What happens now, Mum?”

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

At the mention of Kylar's leg, the older wolf gently released her daughter. She saw the anger spark in Willow's eyes, although the words that came after caused her to quickly shake her head. "I've had the limp ever since I was a yearling, younger than you are now, but fighting in the protest inflamed it, that's all." Her chest constricted as she met her daughter's concerned expression.

"What would you have had them all do? Stop fighting the wolves that were trying to riot and do nothing? Should they have held me down to keep me from myself?" Kylar's brow furrowed, stomach twisting over the strict anti-soldier sentiment coming from her daughter. As Willow had shown both Kylar and Nephele, there clearly were some corrupt soldiers. Hell, they had specifically found one in order to break Willow out. But the soldiers she had fought with had done their best to subdue those that were attacking them first, not acting with undue force.

"I chose to get involved because of my sense of justice too. No one else is to be blamed for that." Warily, Kylar searched her daughter's face, hoping that the chasm that had closed had not just reopened.

Kylar was getting older, that was true. As was Nephele... and news of the draft had finally reached them. Luckily, being so old had spared them from being drafted, but Willow wasn't safe. Or Anthe. Oh dear—! How had she forgotten?

"We need to get you someplace safe... somewhere you won't be found..." Her red eyes clouded in thought as stress made her feel sick.

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illow listened to her mother’s perspective, inhaling sharply before she offered her own: ”Why do the people fight? It isn’t just about Jacob,” she suggested, which felt strange, as she had never disagreed with her Mum like this. ”They fight because they’re oppressed by the ones who want all the power . Adamh’s soldiers only solidify that in their minds. Rionnach is not about us, it’s about them. What power is left to us? We survive, while they have all the riches in the world.”

But what did it matter now? Willow was firmly on the census of the wrong — and the wanted. She knew, though: Fury is emboldening, giving strength to even to most meek among them… including Willow. But a sense of resignation loomed. Aloud, she asked a question to which she already knew the answer: ”I can’t go back, can I?”

The power was not her own, not her decision to make; Adamh and his soldiers could keep her from her home, but not tonight. Willow had just one night. Only the gods knew how soon the guards would find her missing, and going back to Haven seemed like an obvious target. Even still… ”I — I have to go back to Melrose one more time, to say goodbye…” Her statement was purposefully vague.

Feeling a little like the child she had once been, Willow rushed forward to embrace Mama, then Mum, whispering to Kylar, ”I’m sorry it’s come to this. Just know, I appreciate you, and whatever happened for this...”

The Lowlander woman knew she was a liability. The thought of getting her mothers into more trouble was too risky, too disturbing to bear. Willow had to escape, but one mother couldn’t see, and the other was struggling to walk.

And so, with little time left, she planted a hasty kiss to each mothers’ cheek. Somehow, she suppressed the tears, for now. ”The rookery — I’ll send a message — if it’s needed. Try not to worry, that won’t help a bit. Only good thoughts, ‘cause this will all be over before we know it.” A feigned smile crossed her muzzle. ”Thank you for getting me out, and for — well, for everything ever.”

Without them, there would be no Willow…. Even if they hadn’t birthed their children, they were the best parents a girl could ask for. With one final, weak smile cast toward her mothers, the tri-color woman began her journey to Melrose for one last night with the wolf she loved.

[exit via running like hell]

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Why do the people fight? It was an immediate question, one that caused Kylar's brow to furrow slightly. "It depends on the wolf—" was her immediate answer, but it was cut off by a whirlwind of sudden thoughts and passions. Kylar felt as if she was holding onto her daughter by a thread, a tenuous rope that was frayed and quickly unraveling. But still, she tried to hold on, not willing to let go of that moment just seconds before—of seeing her daughter being released from the dungeon and holding her. There had been a time when they had been closer than this, inseparable almost. They'd basked in the sun and caught crickets together, and Kylar had read to the whole family at night. It had been before Anthe's illness, Luca's wanderlust, and Willow's... fears? Unluckiness? Misfortune? Kylar didn't know what to call it, but she so desperately wanted to make it all better.

"They fight because they’re oppressed by the ones who want all the power . Adamh’s soldiers only solidify that in their minds. Rionnach is not about us, it’s about them. What power is left to us? We survive, while they have all the riches in the world."
"Survive? We don't just survive, Willowbee, please," Kylar gasped, confused. What did they need with riches? Why did they need more than their little cottage? What... what had gone so wrong?

But there was no reasoning or working through it. Finality flared in Willow's green eyes as she announced something that, perhaps they all knew. "I can't go back, can I?" Kylar's black-tipped ears flicked back as she rapidly wracked her mind for an answer. But still, she felt a bit of hope as Willow mentioned that she had to go back home to say goodbye. "Of course, we can travel quietly and as quickly as possible, we can wake Anthe—ah," Kylar murmured, her words cut off as Willow swept Nephele then her into a hug.

”I’m sorry it’s come to this. Just know, I appreciate you, and whatever happened for this...”

Come to.. what? Kylar's heart seemed to leap to her throat as the dots were beginning to connect yet she refused to believe that her daughter would leave them not even an hour after getting her back from the dungeon. They were so close to having their family whole again.

Willow began to thank them and Kylar felt fresh tears well in her eyes. "No, Willow, no, don't—" her heart hammered against her ribs and she started to shake her head, knowing that she couldn't chase after her daughter, nor could Nephele. They were disabled. They had always been. But their children were not, Willow was not. If she chose to run, neither mom could get her back.

"Willow!" Kylar cried out, her daughter's name wrenched from her lips in anguish as the girl raced away. "Please, please don't, we can solve this together! Please! PLEASE!" She sobbed, stumbling forward and crying out, falling on the ground as her swollen leg gave way beneath her. "Neph," Kylar choked out, trying to get out of the dirt and mud. "Neph, Neph, she's ... she's leaving again. I... I don't understand..."

I don't understand what I did wrong.

And again, she felt the crushing weight of her disability and the smallness that came with it. That sensation of being weak. It was why Anteros had overlooked her as a possible alpha for the sanctuary, why she had never been able to protect anyone. Meeting Nephele, Kylar had finally been able to put together some semblance of an identity, to find strength with her disability as opposed to in spite of it. That was the whole purpose of Haven.

But when it truly mattered most, even their own daughter didn't trust them to help. She just... ran away, knowing that Kylar and Nephele couldn't follow.

Surely knowing how much it hurt.

... Kylar continued to crawl forward until it hurt too much and then cried, first into her own muddied fur, then into her wife's because... for not the first time in her life... she wondered if all she had ever made were mistakes. Because surely this would never have happened if she had been different.

If she had been better.

- exit kylar -

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