The day after Spring Equinox, 1715 Scottish Highlands
Dawn came as usual the following morning, although he had prayed it wouldn't. He wished this could all be one horrible nightmare that ended with the burst of light. He took none of his usual solace in the beautiful colors of a new day. His day was the beginning of his journey to his end, Shaw was sure.
Though Bran, Fiona and surprisingly Sin, protested the next morning, Shaw mounted his stallion and headed out to the MacNary clan, with the shrouded body of his mate cradled in his arms. He didn't stop to rest, or eat, not willing to let go of Maggie. He just pushed through to the MacNary clan, Shaw would meet his fate head on and without fear.
Shaw was barely on MacNary lands when Angus, and a group of men met him, swords drawn.
"Give me one reason, that I shouldn't run you through," Angus snarled. "That's my baby girl you hold in your arms, wrapped in burial cloth! Something else you've stolen from me, it was my right to prepare her, you lowly dog! Not yours, you have no rights!"
Angus was yelling, from atop his horse before he was done. Shaw stayed silent and simply nodded at the grieving man.
This was all his fault after all, if he hadn't stolen Maggie from her clan, none of this would have happened and his beautiful mate would still be alive.
"Give me my daughter!"
"Aye," though it pained Shaw to agree and to release her, he did so, even knowing it would be the last time he would hold her, would see her. Now that she was safely with her clan, they would kill him and leave him to rot.
Shaw watched as a myriad of emotions played across Angus's face as he took hold of his daughter, torment finally winning out.
"She's dead. My baby's gone, before she even truly got to live," he spoke gently, startling in its contrast to the anger of before. "You are at fault, you will pay! Men, seize him and throw him in the dungeon until I can decide what his punishment will be."
Shaw watched, slightly surprised he was still alive as the large man spun his horse and galloped his way back to the keep as though the devil were after him, taking Maggie away forever along with him.
The trip to the MacNary keep and then dungeon was rough. Each man from the clan, taking a shot with a fist, or a nick with a dagger, even the tip of a sword, sliced down his ribs, his arms, the back of his knees. By the time they reached the door to the dungeons, Shaw was battered, bleeding and coated in dirt from the numerus times he was shoved to the ground, from the back of his horse.
Now, barely able to stand, and swaying slightly the men shoved him down the dark stairs. The nonstop journey combined with the abuse from the MacNary men too much for his body, the emotions of the last few days too much for his mind to manage, he was ready to beg for his end, to join her in the afterlife.
"Get up, you lowly cur!" The man shouted before grasping, Shaw's arm and hauling him to his feet.
Shaw barely registered the dark, dank room he threw him into and slammed the door. In some part of his mind, he knew it smelled of mold and that the floor was cold and wet, he just couldn't work up the energy to get up off the floor, or to care that it seeped through his clothes and into his bones. He just lay there, his blood mixing and swirling with the water on the stone floor.
Shaw had no idea how long he had been in the dungeon, there were no windows to see the passing days. The walls were thick stone, and magicked to block his hearing, and his wolf. He could hear water dripping down the walls to the floor and a scurrying, which was rats, as he lay in his own filth to await punishment for his crimes. His only comfort was Maggie's medallion that still hung around his neck, it glowed every time he touched it and heat would emanate from within.
Once a day or may more, time had no meaning here for Shaw, it was like the abyss, a tray of rotten food was shoved through the door. It wouldn't matter though if it were succulent pig, and black pudding, with fresh vegetables from the harvest, he had no interest in eating. Shaw just wanted to be punished for his sins, so he could make his peace with the gods.
It was ironic, thinking about the gods, when he so recently discovered that he was a direct descendent of Loki. But, what of this magic blood he has, where had that come from. He would go to his grave now he supposed without ever discovering, why he carried magic and his siblings did not. Angus wasn't going to help him with that now after he'd killed his daughter.
His mind was in chaos, moving all over from thought to thought, in no coherent pattern. This was to be his punishment. To go crazy in a dark, cold room, with rats as his only company. To waste away, covered in his own filth. If his wolf would only come, he could let it play with them and later devour them to be rid of their incessant chattering and scuffling. He watched as one, with its beady little black eyes, stared at him from across the room as it nibbled on the rotten food left for him.
He could smell the putrefaction of his wounds. He knew they festered and rotted. It was possible that soon he would lose a limb to the rancid gashes along his arms and legs. No matter he knew that he wasn't leaving this dank room, he would die in here never seeing his siblings again. Never meeting the children, they were sure to have. Never seeing his lovely raven-haired beauty again. That was his fault though, he is the one that killed his mate, who watched as fingers of fire crawled over her beautiful form.
As though he called her to him, Maggie stood in front of him now with her emerald eyes full of accusation, skin charred to the bone. The pain she must be in, Shaw thought, how she must hate him for what he had done.
"Shaw, this isn't real," she spoke reaching out to him. "Shaw, touch the medallion, call your wolf, believe and see!"
Her image waivered and faded. A figment of his fever addled brain no doubt. The pain from his wounds was getting worse and it wouldn't be much longer now before the fever took him under, took him away from this dark room. Where he could see Maggie again without the accusation, back with her beautiful raven hair and ebony skin. Before he killed her.
He touched the medallion around his neck, he felt the heat and saw the glow of light it emitted, he called his wolf. There was a stirring from deep inside, but nothing. He knew she wasn't real; Maggie was gone forever, and he would die in this stone room, alone and laying in his own rot.
"Shaw, you need to come back." There was that male voice again. He wanted to listen he really did, but this was his punishment for killing his mate. "Let go of the past Shaw and return to us."
"Nial, what holds him there?" That voice, he recognized that voice it was Coll. "Can he even hear us?"
"I think the medallion holds him in the past, and yes, some part of him can still hear us, I think."
"You're the witch, bring him back, break the spell or whatever you do!"
"What do you think I am trying to do, none of the spells are working, this magic is strong."
The voices continued but he couldn't focus on them anymore, something was pulling him away, maybe his beloved was calling him back.