Chapter Text
I’ll never forget the day that my life changed forever. Sometimes, I close my eyes and pretend. I pretend that I hadn’t missed her hand. I pretend that I’d been stronger and had a weapon ready at the very start of the day. I pretend that I would have been enough to hold off the entire raid. I pretend my father’s blank eyes hadn’t been staring at me for days as I waited to die. I pretend I hadn’t heard my brother’s cries right before losing consciousness. I pretend that I’m fully happy, without a massive hole in my chest.
But then, when I open my eyes again, no matter how long it has been, I see the same roof over my head. I’m in the same bed I’ve spent the last decade in. I’m still here alone. Well, not alone. Our neighbor has been raising me, treating me like his own daughter. Sometimes even better. Many of the women my age are already married and live with their partners, but I’ve never felt any pressure from Greely to find someone.
But what if I had been able to make a difference that day? What if I could have changed what happened?
###
The sun is shrouded in clouds as I grab my cloak. Dad always yells at me if I go out without it, and I don’t want anything to sour my mood today. I’d finished my chores early, and I knew Hayden had a shorter list today, too. Any day we get to sneak away and play is a good day, since we’re both getting older and having to spend more time working and less time playing.
As I move through the village, I look out for any carts with less than attentive drivers and try not to run. Children running are always thought to be up to something. I’m not causing trouble, at least not yet. Hayden and I were especially good at finding trouble to get into.
I walk up to her hut and peer into a window. I know it’s not polite to snoop, but her dwelling has become as familiar as my own. As one of the only other girls my age, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure what I would have done without her by my side as my family grieved my mother’s death after she had my brother not even two years ago. She's the only one who helped me come back out of my shell of sorrow. No one stuck by my side like she did.
Looking into her window, I just barely catch those pale gray eyes before giggling and rushing to the front door. I hear her say something to her mom before her footsteps approach. As she comes out of her hut, I jump out.
She squeals and puts on a pout. “Genevieve,” she whines.
I know she wasn’t really scared, she just acts scared to humor me. I think it’s cute that she does it every time and I give her a teasing smile.
“Maybe if you weren’t so easy to scare, I would stop,” I hint, letting her know she doesn’t have to act scared just to make me happy.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.” Her light brown, wavy hair is just coming loose from her bun that she clearly rushed. I know her sisters could easily get her hair more tidy, but it looks like today she didn’t feel like waiting for them before coming to play with me.
Looking at her family versus mine, it’s easy to see that they’re one of the newer arrivals. Her grandparents came to live with our tribe after being forced out of their own lands by whatever a “barbarian” is. They seemed like monsters that my dad tells me about to make me scared at night, but we’ve never seen one here. Hayden always says that the people that took over her old village call us barbarians, so I assume they can’t be that terrifying.
We lace our fingers together and move through the pathways in our village, until we’re at the edge of the forest. Our parents always tell us not to go too far into the woods, that dangerous creatures and spirits lurk in the shadows. But with Hayden by my side, I never feel afraid. I feel like I could take on anything as long as she’s there with me. As long as we’re together, we always manage to find our way home.
We move through the brush in silence for a while.
“So, you got done with chores early today,” she notes as we get closer to our clearing.
“Yeah. My dad said I’ve been working hard all week, so I deserve a little break,” I say, beaming.
“Lucky! Whenever I have free time, my sisters give me their chores,” Hayden grumbles.
I lean over so I can shoulder her gently. “That’s what I’m here for! They can’t pass chores off on you when you’re not there.”
She grins at me. Her cheek dips in ever so slightly to show a small laugh line right next to her mouth. I’ve always liked that laugh line. I’ve always liked her face in general. Her eyes always shyly avoid other’s glances and whenever they meet mine, I can’t help but notice how her cheeks tint slightly, no matter how long we’ve known each other and how often it happens. Her cheeks color a lot around me, actually. I pretend not to notice, just like she pretends that I scare her every time. Our friendship has a lot of pretending.
I pretend I don’t notice how, no matter how close we are, she always moves closer. She pretends not to notice that I hug her more often than my own family. I pretend that she doesn’t give me butterflies more and more often as we grow older. We both pretend that we need to hold hands so as to not lose each other, even if we’re always able to find each other in the forest. I chalk that up to the magic of our friendship. We always find each other.
With her parents being artisans and my dad being a black smith, there’s no pressure for an arranged marriage, and it’s still a little too early for us to be thinking about courtship just yet. We still have a few years before we need to think about a partner, but still, every once in a while I’m able to daydream about my future, and I can’t help but imagine Hayden with me for all of it every time.
At least, I don’t see anyone else having my back the way she does. I don’t see being able to tolerate being with anyone else day in and day out the way that I could with her. She’s my best friend, and to be without her would be like being lost in the forest at night. It terrifies me just to imagine it.
But, since we’re only ten, I don’t think about it too much, only at night when I can’t sleep. Or if we’re having one of our frequent sleep overs and I’m waiting for her soft scent to lull me to sleep as she’s pressed against my side in our narrow beds.
No, for now, I just get to enjoy my days with her. I get to appreciate her company and act as if we don’t have worries as we play in the woods.
“What do you want to play today?” she asks.
I tap my chin as I look around the clearing. A couple of fallen sticks catch my eye.
“We could play ‘warrior’,” I suggest, looking at Hayden hopefully. I suggest it almost every day we come out here to play, but the last three times she hadn’t been in the mood.
Her eye roll leaves me less than hopeful. “You always win whenever we fight with sticks.”
“But you’re getting better,” I point out.
“Not as fast as you are. It’s not fair, your dad is a blacksmith; of course you’re good at fighting,” she complains.
“You’re better at hand to hand. And how do you expect to get better if we never play?” I ask. It’s true, I am better with a weapon, but she’s so much more feisty. Her movements are so seamless and she can easily pin me if I don’t have anything in my hands to help my chances.
I see her lips twitch up and know that I’ve won. I grin shamelessly at her and run to grab our sticks that we use.
All the adults in my life tell me that we shouldn’t play such rowdy games. That we’d be better suited for playing house or something. My dad even half-heartedly tells me every once in a while, but I can tell he doesn’t care. He even likes that we play rough. We all know that the world is dangerous. Why not be as prepared as possible by getting used to combat, even if it’s just for fun for now?
By the time we make it back home, we’re both covered in dirt and sweat. I’m sure I’ll get an earful for it, but the smile my friend wears the whole way home makes it all worth it and brings a curve to my own lips.
###
Sunlight hits the tapestry over my window. The refracting rays hit my face, warming me as I sit up and stretch. I breathe in deeply and stand, putting on all the layers of armor I’ve grown accustomed to. I know it’s ridiculous to put on my full armor every day, and I notice other villagers murmuring about it and giving me glances, especially since it’s been almost a year since there have been hostile movements in the area, but I’ll never be caught off guard again.
For the final touches, I strap a dagger to my thigh and clip my sheathed sword to my belt. Most daggers would be rendered useless by this point, but I take such good care of this one and rework it often enough that, while the metal is stained and worn, it’s still just as useful as it was ten years ago.
I push my black hair out of my face. Soon, I’ll need to cut it again; it’s almost past my shoulders.
As I strut into the shared space, I see that Greely isn’t awake yet. I light a fire to get breakfast started, but a glance at our bread storage tells me we’ll need more for lunch. There’s enough for him to have a slice with breakfast, though, so I stay focused on cooking the stew.
By the time the stew is boiling, I hear him stirring in his room.
I have a bowl ready for him by the time he walks out into the shared living space and am fixing my own.
“Thanks,” he says, eyeing me warily.
We’ve fallen into an easy routine. I help him around the house, since he hasn’t brought himself to remarry after what happened to his wife. People around the village used to whisper about the nature of our relationship as I grew older and made no moves to marry. It looked even more odd since he didn’t show any interest in anyone.
But whatever rumors rose were soon put to rest. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that he’s like a father to me, taking care of me because I don’t have anyone else. Neither of us do, so we live in amicable loneliness together.
For the first couple years, it wasn’t quite amicable. Right after he took me away from our old village and brought me here, I was resentful. I was stubborn. I was broken. I’m not sure how he held us together, also knowing the fresh loss of his wife. There were times I’d be crying and see him just walk away, unable to help and unknowing of what to do to even try. He’d had to plead with me just to eat enough so I didn’t starve. It wasn’t until a couple years later I actually started helping around the house. Moping around wouldn’t bring my brother and dad back. So, I climbed out of the dark pit and started honoring my dad the only way I knew how: continuing his work. He’d been a great black smith, so I carried on the family tradition.
Greely needed to help me at first. I wasn’t strong enough to lift the metal and tools, especially with how little I’d been eating. But after just a few months, I didn’t need help anymore. My hammering needed work, but I was able to hone in my skill. Now, Greely and I are both able to contribute to the household income. He has a position on the village council and in his free time, he repairs carts.
Still, even with our routine, every once in a while one of us has a hard day or a hard week. This week specifically is harder. It’s the anniversary of our home village falling. We quietly eat our breakfast and I put the dishes away so I can start working and he can get ready.
“Your… Your birthday is coming up,” Greely points out before I can walk out to my forge.
“Mm,” I mumble. I don’t hate my birthday, but with it being so close to such a painful memory, I’ve stopped celebrating it. I wonder why he’s bringing it up at all.
“You’ll be turning twenty. That’s a big year,” he points out. We’d had this same talk about my sixteenth birthday. He’d asked if I wanted to celebrate being a woman.
“We didn’t do anything for your fortieth birthday,” I point out.
He’s quiet for a while longer. “I don’t know if turning forty is the same as turning twenty.”
I grab my work gloves and finally turn to face him. “I’d rather just stick to our regular tradition.” That being nothing. He might take a few of my chores and try to cook something special, but require my help when dinner goes disastrously wrong. It’s still a sweet thought and I think fondly back on past kitchen catastrophes.
His mouth twists in an awkward grimace and he nods. “You sure there’s nothing you want?”
I shrug. I’m already making a new sword for myself. It’s higher quality than any of the others I’m making. That’s enough of a present for me. I’ve never been one of those women that likes clothes or household tools. Weapons are what fascinate me. I mostly prefer swords–those are what I’ve been training with my whole life, after all–but spears and specialty armor have been catching my eye more and more as I do more of them for our tribe’s warriors. I’m used to only using leather for armor, but some of these metal pieces I’ve made have me thinking more and more about the possibility of a full set of metal armor. If I could build up the strength to hold myself up and fight in all metal, it might be extremely protective.
“I don’t really want anything. I’ve got everything I need,” I say before walking out the door.
I head to my shop and get to work. I have three different orders I want to get out today and others that need starting.
By the time I hear my door open, I’ve worked up a sweat and have removed most of my upper body clothing. Normally, I wouldn’t be so bold with being clothed so little outside of my room, but the only people that come into my shop unannounced don’t care that I’m just wearing my chest bindings.
I turn to see Blake. He’s so tall that he has to stoop a little to get through the door frame and his blonde hair, while lighter than hers, reminds me of the fairer hair of my old best friend. My dead best friend.
“Hey, Pipsqueak,” he greets with a cautious grin. He’s known me long enough to know that this week is a hard one for me.
He and his family came a little over a year after Greely and I joined this tribe. When they first arrived, it was easy to recognize the dazed and shocked loss on their faces. He and I spent multiple nights just sitting outside, staring up at the stars in comfortable silence, mourning our losses. It was a few months before we actually started talking. It started off as him cracking jokes until he saw a hint of a smile on my face. From there, our friendship bloomed. He’s the only one in this village besides Greely I spend any amount of time outside of work with.
It’s not that I hate people. I just can’t let myself get too close to anyone ever again. Not after that cursed day. And the people here seem content enough to let me be as well. I’m just the weird spinster who makes their weapons and doesn’t talk much. The only social visits I get are the occasional check in from Blake.
I nod to greet him and go back to hammering out the blade I’m working on.
He walks over and leans against a table where some daggers are cooling. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I answer curtly. I’ve been trying to forget the awkward encounter with Greely all morning. I wish we were better at comforting each other. Gods know he needs a friend this week just as much as I do. But we’re both horrendously bad at sharing feelings.
“That so?”
“Mhm.”
“Is that why you’re about to hammer that sword in half?”
“I’m about to hammer the sword in half because someone’s here distracting me,” I tease, giving him a playful glare.
He grins and stands up. “Come on. We both know you can do this in your sleep.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Casey needed me out of the hut. She’s cleaning and fixing some things up for dinner with some friends tonight.”
I chuckle. The amount of times she’s kicked him out so she can clean would be concerning if they didn’t have such a happy marriage.
Seeing my mood rise brightens up his face.
“She wanted me to ask about having dinner next week,” he says.
So, that’s why he’s here. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
“I don’t know. I think Greely might try to whip something up,” I shrug.
I hear a snorting sound and know that Blake is holding in a laugh.
“I think it’s sweet that he tries every year,” I add.
“Well, if he wants a year off from a humiliating attempt at cooking, you two are welcome at our place,” he offers.
I chuckle. Last year’s fiasco had been particularly bad because Blake and Casey had been there to witness it on top of the food actually catching on fire. I’m not sure how our salad caught on fire, but we still laugh about it.
“I’ll see what he says,” I finally relent.
Blake and Casey are kind enough, and it would be great to see their daughter again. Because of his shaky relationship with his own family and Casey not knowing hers since she was orphaned when she was young, he’d asked me for suggestions when naming her a couple years ago. There’d only been one name that I could think of, and I was grateful when they’d taken my suggestion.
“It’ll be nice to see Hayden,” I add with a shrug.
“She’s growing up so fast,” he says with a proud smile. “It feels like just yesterday she was taking her first steps. Now it’s hard to keep up with her.”
I smile down at the hot metal I’m working on. As painful as it is to hear that name and remember her face, it is nice that the name carries on. Soon, baby Hayden will be old enough to run around with other kids her age and get into all sorts of trouble like we used to.
“We’d really love to have you over,” he says gently. “And we’re here for you.”
I sigh. I know they are. It’s no mistake that he and Greely are the only ones I’ve let get this close to me. Because they can defend themselves and they’re good people. They don’t want anything except my well being.
“Well, at least let us bring something to the dinner,” I offer. I would feel better knowing I did something useful.
Blake exhales hard, but a glance at his face shows he’s just happy I’m not turning him down. “Deal.”
###
We're sitting at Blake and Casey's table. I'll admit, it is nice to eat a good meal that I didn't have to prepare.
We’re laughing about a joke that Blake had made when Greely clears his throat.
“We all chipped in and got you something,” he says shyly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I argue.
“We wanted to,” Blake adds. He gets up and retrieves something leaning against the wall. As he gets closer, I realize it’s a bow and quiver of arrows. I recognize those arrows. I’d made the tips for those a couple weeks ago for a woman a few years older than me.
“Oh, gods,” I gasp. I thought there wasn’t anything besides a sword that I’d want, but seeing this weapon, I’m fascinated.
“You know Mal?” Casey grins.
I have to think for a moment, but then I nod. Right. That’s her name. She and I don’t interact much, but when she came to my shop and made the request, I didn’t think much of it. She is a hunter, so it made sense she’d need new arrows.
“She said she’d take you for lessons,” Greely says.
“Really?”
Casey nods excitedly. “She really appreciates how well her spear is made that you did last year. She’s really nice, I think you’ll have fun.”
I shrug. I do have a lot of free time that I’m not sure what to do with. I practice swordsmanship so much that there’s hardly anything new to learn. Learning a new weapon would be beneficial.
“Yeah, it sounds fun,” I finally admit. Anything to keep me distracted.
They all grin at me and I admire the bow. It’s made of dark, sturdy wood. The string is tightly tied. It’ll take some practice to build up the muscle to pull it back far enough. I grin at it.
“Look at that. We earned a Genevieve smile,” Blake teases.
I look up and narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t get used to it.”
He shrugs. “I like that you don’t smile often. It makes it more meaningful when I get one out of you.”
His words touch me and I look back at the table shyly. It’s nice to share a table with people who don’t ask me to change anything about myself. They don’t kid themselves to think that I’m perfect, and know first hand how much my temper can flare, how serious I usually am, how I have walls that no one is allowed inside. But they accept those parts of me just as much as the positive traits I have without a second thought.
“So, have your eye on anyone?” Casey asks casually.
I know it’s just for conversation. I’m well past the courtship age, but no matter how hard I try to look for someone to be my partner, it feels impossible to feel that way for anyone. Life is just easier alone.
“I can’t say I do,” I shrug.
“There’s that new fellow from Gaal that just came in. What was his name?” Blake offers. I can tell by the glint in his eye that he’s just teasing me, but I can’t let it go too far, or Greely will take him seriously.
“Jarvis?” I ask, exaggerating the roll in my eyes.
“That’s right! Jarvis,” Blake snaps his fingers.
“He seems nice,” Greely says politely. His eyebrow is raised curiously. Nope. Can’t have that.
“He does seem like a nice friend,” I answer pointedly, glaring at Blake now. “But no one really holds my attention. There’s just nothing anyone here has to offer me that I can’t get myself.”
I see Blake open his mouth, but upon seeing my face, he closes it again. No one has anything to offer me that I need .
“Well, I’m excited for the festival coming up,” Greely says, thankfully changing the subject. “It looks like we’ll have some foreign guests this year.”
“Really?” I ask. It’s not uncommon for stragglers from other villages to take refuge with us. This is the largest settlement in the area and our neighbors to the west have been expanding, leaving many displaced. But to have guests, people that aren’t planning on staying for long, is new.
He nods. “We’ve received messages from the Romans. They’re interested in meeting us to talk about an alliance.”
I almost drop my plate at the statement. “Romans?” I reiterate. We’d heard plenty about other villages that have interacted with them. They don’t care about local values or traditions and demand total subjugation.
“They want to talk about trade rights through our land,” Greely offers.
I hum thoughtfully, thumbing the string on my new bow. It might be best to learn as many different weapons as I can if we have encroaching neighbors. Especially if they’re approaching us in the guise of allies.
Pleasant conversation continues long into the night, but I can’t help the anxiety at the back of my mind. We’ve created a familiar, if not comfortable, life with this tribe. Just how threatened is its existence? I’d thought I’d found something steady and permanent in this ever-changing and chaotic world, but will even that change?
###
I’m reminded of how important wielding weapons is a few days later when I’m cleaning a blade I’d just finished. I hear shouting outside.
I cock my head. Sometimes people just get rowdy, but this seems different. I clutch the handle of my sword and grab my helmet that hangs by the door.
As the light pours in, I see a few figures rush past my door. I’ve seen raids enough times to know what’s happening. I jump out, facing the opposite way, knowing I’ll come face to face with an enemy warrior.
I raise my sword to deflect an ax strike. The bearded man holding the ax cries out as he strikes again, but he’s focused too much on the power behind his blow, so I dodge around him. Before he can correct his footing, my sword has plunged into his stomach.
A club comes at me while my sword is still stuck, so I lift my other arm, using the leather armor on my forearm to absorb the blow. It hurts, but it gives me enough time to take my sword out of the other barbarian and dispatch this new threat.
I hear a battle cry and turn around just in time to see a warrior running at me. I won’t have enough time to block his blow, so I ready myself for whatever pain will come, but an arrow to his throat stops him in his tracks. I turn around to see Mal on a roof with her bow, another arrow already in her fingers and ready to fire at the next miscreant.
I turn back to my village. To the battlefield. My jaw clenches at those being the same.
I see a family running and know that someone must be close behind them, so I run to cover their backs. A sting shoots up my leg and I see an arrow sticking out of my shin. It’s not deep; my padded trousers protect me for the most part. I look up in time to see another arrow coming and quickly dodge out of the way.
My sword catches another sword right before it pierces me. The sound of metal clanging against metal and women and children screaming surrounds me as I wrestle with my next opponent. This warrior is better than the others I’ve faced, but I’m still more skilled, so soon his head is rolling on the ground.
After subduing a couple more combatants, I’ve noticed the noises have quieted. The invasion is over. We’ve pushed the invading forces back.
I look around. Nothing was set on fire this time. The bodies littering the ground look to be exclusively foreign. I notice scared eyes peeking out from windows and around corners.
“Everyone okay?” I ask loudly. “Who needs medical attention?” I know I do, but I’m used to pain. I constantly have burns and cuts from smithing, so I ready myself to lead whoever needs help to the medicine hut.
“Thank you, Genevieve!” one of the villagers I’d protected says, running out to hug me. She’d been the first person I’d seen running from the intruders, carrying her young daughter, Madison.
“Thank you,” Madison parrots. I see tears streaking down her cheeks, creating lines down the dirt on her face.
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” I smile warmly. “You don’t have to worry as long as I’m here.” I wipe Madison’s tears with the corner of my cloak and tussle her hair. “I’ll keep you safe,” I promise the small girl. I have to keep them safe.
A smile breaks through her fear and she hugs my leg. I take a deep breath while I look down at her and pat her back. I’ll never fail to protect someone ever again. Never again will a little girl be taken in a raid because I wasn’t strong enough.
I look around again to see people are slowly starting to come out of their hiding spots.
“Whoever needs medical care, come with me,” I command. “We’ll put shifts together to start disposing of these bodies shortly. We’ll also sort through any misplaced things to return them to the right people.”
Even if I don’t interact with the villagers much outside of my business transactions, everyone seems to trust my leadership and falls into line, picking up various weapons and possessions lying around.
I limp at the head of a group of people, offering whatever help I can as we wander through the paths to get to the medical hut.
Our medicine woman, April, is already helping others, but I can see she’d already started prepping for maximum efficiency. Casey is by her side, helping her in any way she can.
I move to the back, ready to wait as long as I need. As I wait, I notice a pair of muddy eyes studying me. I wave to her, silently thanking her from a distance for saving my life.
First offering lessons, now saving me… Is Mal trying to get something from me? But she never comes to talk to me. If she does want something, she’s waiting for another day to ask.
I move my attention to the arrow still sticking out of my leg. Since it’s not a deep penetration, I pull it out with a grunt and notice the quality. This seems like better metal than any other barbarian that’s attacked us yet.
I leave the medicine hut behind; it will take a while to get through all those people anyway. I head to where I know the council will be meeting. When I get there, I’m surprised to see that we have a prisoner.
He’s on his knees in front of our five leaders, his hands bound behind him. Greely sees me walk in and nods a greeting to me.
“Am I interrupting?” I ask.
“We’re just questioning this barbarian,” Greely says.
“Trying to, anyway,” Blake adds.
I grab him by his long ponytail. He grunts in pain as I shove the arrow in his face.
“Where did you get this?” I ask.
He says something in a foreign tongue and spits, so I push the point against his cheek, creating a thin, red line just under his eye. He looks at me, eyes defiant.
I straighten up. “Death doesn’t scare him. He wants to die a warrior’s death. Starve him for a few days. Make it clear he won’t get an honorable death. Then ask where they got their weapons. These are too high of quality to be just another tribe conquering the surrounding area,” I say. I don’t expect them to fully follow my instructions–after all, I have no political power–but I know Greely and Blake will at least take me seriously.
I leave the arrow with them and go back to the medicine hut, helping along any stragglers that hadn’t been able to get there yet.
April sees me walking up this time and moves to help me to a bed. I shake my head and gesture to the other people that I’d helped here.
“Genevieve, I can see the blood on your leg,” she says.
“These people need help first,” I reply stubbornly.
She rolls her eyes but knows that arguing with me is pointless. She moves to the villagers I brought here and I sit on the ground outside. This will be a good spot to rest while I wait to be tended to.