The wound is the place
the light enters you.
~Rumi
***
Ravenna's heart melted at his words yet shattered at the same time. She was unable to respond when he mentioned where she worked. Did he know?
She trembled at the thought.
Ravenna had lived in disguise, from who she really was to the world and who she is to her only family. One of the most painful parts is having to lie about her identity to the only person that meant everything to her.
Protecting Alaric had always been a part of her, so she did everything she could to make sure the world didn't see him the way they saw her.
It was the reason she faced this path. The reason she lives at the crack of dawn to work and at sunset to make a living.
And he knew- She shook the thought. Or maybe he was referring to her being bonded as a servant in the castle.
Nevertheless, she forced a smile. "You don't have to prove to me, Alaric." She said. "You are my man, my little man. We can face your fears-"
"You have yours, Ravenna," he said. "I can't put another burden on you so please," he pleaded. "Let me. I can't face this fear when I'm hidden all day. I can't face this when I can't fight. A man can't say no to death when he's vulnerable without a sword, without a shield. He needs to fight…"
"Now you speak like father," she let the tears spill off her cheeks. "Just yesterday, you were that little boy I cradled in my arms, and today…" she sniffed. "… you speak not like a boy."
Alaric pulled the blanket off him and pulled her into a hug. The barrier she built crumbled before his arms and she wept. The feeling was mutual when the pain she had held for long, longer than she had imagined all faded to dust.
She wanted to stop. She wanted to be strong. But she wouldn't lie when she said she needed someone to comfort her, to tell her everything was alright. Things would be fine.
Oh father…
After what seemed like forever, her cries turned into sniffs when she pulled away. Alaric stared at her, concern laced with those irises. "Now you look at me like how Madame Ruby does," and she laughed lightly.
"The one in the castle?"
"Mm," she responded. "I'm fine now. I can't believe I just cried."
He frowned. "You're not a rock,"
"I didn't say so," she responded. "It's okay to cry."
"Why do I feel you are telling me this,"
"Just in case," she shrugged and both of them chuckled at the humor.
Ravenna pulled him to a hug. Nothing was better than a family bond. She believed so.
"I'll be strong for the both of us. I protect us, away from them. All of them. Every one of them."
Ravenna didn't respond but rather replied with a small sound of acknowledgement. She could only wish her brother were right this time.
Little did she know what was coming for her.
***
It was almost midnight when Ravenna walked into her room, peeling off her drenched clothes. The chill of the night air still lingered on her skin as exhaustion and fear wrestled with her body.
Alaric's nightmares took a massive toll on her, one threatening to surface a trauma she had been avoiding. At least, trying to.
She gazed at her reflection in the oval mirror. Brown messy hair, full lips, captivating freckles, and alluring blue eyes.
She trailed her face, feeling the smooth feel of her skin behind her makeup. Her breasts were full and round, arching outward, a kind that was fit to nurture a child.
A mother, she thought, staring below. Would she ever be a mother? She rubbed her flat tummy, somehow frightened by the weight of her thought.
And she stared at her reflection, recalling reasons why she'd never become one,
Ravenna Vale— a disguised name as Hannah Maere— worked as a whore in a tavern, to earn a living for herself and her brother. No one learned of the ugly prestige and forgery built under a mask however, the cognomen as a thief, couldn't be said otherwise.
She was only twelve when she invaded the castle and raided a few of the Queen's most expensive jewels, to be caught by one of the princesses and brought forth to the King.
Due to her young age, Ravenna was spared from treason, but punished by walking on the street— stripped and chained— as the laughing stock of Amberleigh, to the satisfaction of the royalty and the pleasure of the villagers.
And in addition to that punishment, Ravenna was taken to serve as a servant at every morning shift without pay. She would clean, and wash the castle's filthiest area, bonding her to the kingdom. She was the rag made to wipe the wealthy and most powerful heels.
Over the years, making a living became complicated and so the habit of stealing and pick-pocketing became one hobby, one addiction she couldn't bring herself to quit.
And then there were rumors spreading across the village like wildfire, that the 'thief' spread her legs for married men in exchange for the worth. Not just men, but the older ones.
But who knew that Ravenna Vale, known as the thief and traitor's daughter spreading her legs for older men, wasn't just a rumor, but an actual truth and the harshest reality crowning upon her head? Who knew that it wasn't just older men her legs gave access to, but the younger ones too? Who knew the rumored whore was a whore? Ravenna Vale as a thief, and Hannah Maere, the whore. Two-stained reputation.
Who would want a woman who had spread her legs for different men, one she had lost count of? Who would want a whore as their wife and a thief as their lady? Who wouldn't look at her scars and fright, not of fear but of disgust?
With a soft huff, Hannah brought her hand to her hair, dragging it with all her might. She continued until a few strands of silver hair speckled at the front and more. She went on and on until the wig came off before discarding it at a corner.
When she was done, she stared at herself again. Ravenna. The castle's servant. The village thief.
"Just a little, I promise."
"Stop! I can't breathe!"
Ravenna gasped, stepping away from the mirror— like it was her greatest nemesis— with her pulsing heart at the sudden memory.
Her pupils dilated in terror, as she gazed at her reflection if it was the devil, her skin was pale due to fright, and her stance was almost wobbling from fear.
W-where did that come from?
She clutched her chest, inhaling deep breaths to tame her heartbeat, and ended up staring at her shaky fingers, and the scars peeking behind those sleeves.
Quickly, she beckoned for a hot bath.
As she sank into the steaming water, her tense muscles began to relax and unwind however, her thoughts did the exact opposite.
Her mind drifted to the voices earlier, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Alaric's nightmares started the night of their parents' death, that very night they escaped the grasp of flames. He was only three winters old when he started weeping in discomfort whenever night clawed closer by inches. At five, his nightmares grew more incurable and traumatizing for both of them.
He would dream of strange people who were only but history and she would struggle with her trauma whenever this happened. Of flames and fire, of burn and writhe, Ravenna would struggle to fight off her trauma and face her precisions, when it melts her skin like tallow.
However, she hadn't been able to do so.
Over the years, it became a part of her that she could never escape. A part she hated as much as she did herself.
Her hands- she looked down at them. They were calloused. Rough. Unlikely for a woman.
And they were shaking. Itching for more pain, more injuries. It was the only method that had kept her distracted so far, over the years of torturing herself.
She looked down at her arms, stretching them out of the water, revealing hideous blemishes. They were covered in burns, thick ugly burns produced by flames melting the skin into tallow.
The kind which someone merely survived the fate of moving fingers by its intensity, soaring from her hands and till the end of her shoulders.
She observed her body further. From her chest down, there were crowded with scars and flaws, some of which left marks on her skin that no matter the ointment she could afford, wouldn't take down the ugliness on them.
But most of them were born of pleasure— bite marks, spanks, cuts, slaps— it was mandatory. Those are the reminders of how she made a living.
Hannah Maere. That's what tomorrow called for. She would work in the morning at the castle, and leave in the afternoon for what brought food to her table. Another day to be fake, she thought.
The warm water lulled her into a fragile calm, but her mind remained alert. After her bath, Ravenna dressed quickly, putting in a comfortable night gown.
A gust of wind caught her attention, as her curtain billowed inward, open, tearing her attention from her thoughts to the wind that carried the smell of earth and atmosphere, a signal that the rain would continue.
Ravenna's brows furrowed in confusion when she looked at the curtains dancing. She didn't leave that open. And was certain it wasn't open when she left to have her bath. Could she have been mistaken?
She carefully dropped the clean sheet of blanket on her bed, and with soft footsteps, she left for the window.
The breeze smacked her figure at every movement until she reached to cover the window pane and draw the curtains close.
After that, Ravenna gave it a hard look, before returning to grab the sheet and blow off the candles.
Opening her mouth, she was about to release her breath to extinguish the flames, when a gust of wind distracted her.
***