Iron

Chapter 3 – Iron

Safe. That is the only word that comes to my mind. Like being wrapped in the softest blanket, and drifting along on the biggest cloud. Protected like all the worldly troubles I had, just slid away like sand through an hourglass. I was drifting through an empty space, but was not at all frightened.

‘This must be the after-life’ I thought to myself. It was not at all what I expected, but truly no one knew what awaited you after your final rest. I was always taught that the after-life was just another journey, and not just the end, but lying here in the darkness makes me think maybe everyone had it wrong. If I could remember how to smile, I think one would be playing on my lips at the humor of it all. I felt paralyzed, and couldn’t move a muscle if I tried, but was so relaxed that I wasn’t sure I would want to. I couldn’t see anything, and couldn’t touch anything, but instead of fear I just felt a very calming peace.

“Aspen.” My father’s voice rang out throughout the void, deep and steady as it always had been. My heart jumped in happiness, maybe I would get to see him here, but that would mean he was dead too. The thought drenched me in sadness, but I couldn’t really remember why.  

How did I end up here again? I couldn’t remember, all I knew was the calm in this very moment. I dug through what little memory I had, sifting through them like scenes in a movie. How did I die? Maybe this was the time I climbed the tree too high and fell; my father did always say that I would break my neck trying to get to the top.

“Aspen!” My father’s voice was louder now, concern lacing his words. Why would he be concerned though? I was the happiest I had ever been. How did I get here again? Bright red flashed across my mind, the color of blood. Why would there be blood?

‘I’m fine!’ I thought. Unable to speak aloud to him, but trying to let him know that I was alright. His face filled my mind, bright and intelligent green eyes that matched my own, and crinkled in the corner from smiling too often of the years. A thick beard that was always unruly and untrimmed; it always tickled my forehead when he kissed me goodnight. A shock of bright blonde and white hair that always hung in his eyes, even though he refused to cut it.

Red flashed across my vision again, and the calm feeling started to dissipate, instead my nerves began to be set on fire one by one. My father, his long blond hair, the last time I saw it had blood staining the handsome color.

“Aspen! Wake Up!” His voice was now pure terror. I could feel his helplessness shift my bones, and tug at my heart, but why did father’s hair have blood in it?

 The memories hit like a thousand stones, crushing the air from my lungs. He was on the floor; he had been knocked out by the guards. He was breathing, but I needed to get to him before they killed him. The wicked foul stench of the guard’s breath flooded my nose, and I swung my limbs blindly trying to hit him away from me. Forcing myself to try and lift heavy arms against invisible bindings.

‘No! No!’ I screamed, thrashing my arms around in an attempt to get to my father. The guard had hit him, he was in danger, we were in danger. The once safe darkness was now crushing me, and holding me in place. I pulled my arms up, pain searing through my muscles as I forced them to move. I could feel my head pounding, and the air pushed from my lungs.

My senses quickly came back, as I felt the pain rip through my ribs and into my throat as I took what felt like the first breath in my life. I was laying on something hard, so hard it was making the pain worse. I tried to pull my arms to myself, but they were stuck above my head. I pulled harder, and felt a searing pain spread through my wrists like I was being burned. I whimpered, but persisted, I had to find my father.

"Aspen, stop fighting and open your eyes.” My father spoke softly. “You are being held down by pure iron, you will only hurt yourself more. Please open your eyes.” My Father pleaded, but I could hear relief peak in his voice. I opened one eye, and pain seared through my head, making me wince and close it again. My breath caught, and I cried softly out loud. “Carefully sweetheart, you got knocked around pretty good.” My Father slowly ran his fingers through the hair on the top of my head.  Slowly I tried again, peeking out from under my lashes to see my father’s eyes looking back at me. Slowly, all the pain melted away, and relief took its place as I looked back at him.

"Where,” I croaked, barely able to get the word out. My father shook his head, and gestured around. I took a second to take in the surroundings. I was laying on dark and dirty stone, my head laying in my father’s lap. Tall stone walls extended on all sides, soaring so high I couldn’t see the ceiling. A wet, and musty smell impeded my senses, and a slow drip could be heard coming from the wall behind me. In the dead center of it all were tall metal bars, blocking the only exit out of the cell. If I had to take a guess, those were iron as well.

“When I woke up, you were unconscious on the ground and a Kings guard was standing over you.” He recounted, and took a deep breath. “I saw the other guard Aspen.” I flinched hearing the fear that laced his voice. He had spent my entire life telling me, and showing me that our magic was used to protect, and not to hurt. Yet, I believe I did just that in this case. He stayed quiet, opting instead to continue petting my hair down onto my head. His eyes staring blankly at the stone walls surrounding us.

“I’m sorry,” I gave in to the silence. Who knew how long we had left together, even if it was only in this prison. It seemed like a childish thing to say in a time like this, but I just couldn’t stand having him disappointed in me.

“Don’t apologize Aspen,” He said quietly, “You did what you thought you needed to do.” He sighed, and I could hear his voice shake. “They know you have magic now though, and I don’t know when they will be coming for you.” I nodded in understanding, and shook at the iron on my wrists, feeling the sting of the metal biting into the thin skin. The burns would leave scars and welts across both of my arms, and I would probably carry them for a lifetime. That is if I get the chance to live a lifetime.

“I guess they took every precaution necessary.” I half laughed, and my father shook his head at my dry humor. Iron was a faeries weakness, and the worst one at that. It burned the skin to the touch, and stopped any magic coming from their bodies. It made us weak, and sick, leaving us nothing but totally mortal.  The method was rarely used anymore to contain us, but sometimes there were special circumstances. Special circumstances, it seemed, like me. “I’ll find us a way out of here, I promise.” I said quietly, but the voice inside of me was telling me it was hopeless.

My father sighed, ignoring my statement. “Their healers fixed what they could on you before they threw you back down here to me, but you still have quite a bit of healing to do on your own. I don’t know how long we have down here, but damnit Aspen if they come for you before you’re better it could be the end of your life when they-.” He stopped, voice trembling thinking of the horrific future ahead of me. His only daughter and child to be sent to be nothing better than breeding cow, or killed for showing magic that had been gifted to our kind. I shuttered at the emotion in his voice, despair sinking my heart, before I felt the warm wet tear hit my face.

“I promise I’ll take it easy for now.” I hated this side of my Father. He was always so strong, and watching him cry over me was heartbreaking. I knew one thing though, I got us into this dungeon, and I was going to get us out. There was no way I was going to add another beast to the king’s army. Even if I died trying.

Fast footsteps, and a loud bang of a door sounded through the hallway outside of the iron bars, and both of us jumped at the startling sound.

“WHERE IS SHE!” I heard a deep voice scream through the dungeon. I sat up quickly, head pounding with the fast movement, looking around for the owner of the voice.

“Sir, your father said-Ooof!” I heard another male’s voice speak back before getting cut off by a loud thump. Whoever was coming was angry, and they were knocking everyone and everything from their path. I heard the footsteps approach, and stop in front of the metal bars in the front of the cell. My father’s breath hitch, and it made my blood boil.

“YOU!” His voice boomed through the cell, echoing off the walls in a deep baritone “YOU ARE THE ONE WHO KILLED ALPHONSO?!” I refused to look at him. Maybe if I ignored him, he would finish gawking at me, and move along. Probably an angry solider who was mad I killed his drinking buddy. “TURN AND LOOK AT ME YOU EVIL BITCH!” He screeched, his voice raising to higher pitch than I thought possible. I giggled before I could stop it from coming out, and I’m sure it made me look exactly like the evil being he thought I was, but the way his voice cracked made me think of a child angry over not getting cookie before dinner.

“I apologize,” My father started, calm and well spoken, despite his initial reaction to the stranger. I looked up daggers at him, willing with all my energy to get him to stop speaking and just let this stranger pass. He did not deserve an apology from him, or even I for that matter. “She hit her head a few hours ago, and has not completely recovered.” The excuse coming quickly from his lips. I had about had enough of this, and it was unlike my father to show weakness to anyone. Let alone some ignorant, and dirty guard.

“I don’t care if she is hurt or not,” the stranger huffed, his voice deep and angry. “She has taken my most loyal soldier from me, and the debt will be paid.”

‘Most loyal soldier?’ I thought, ‘this can’t be.’ I turned slowly to look at the man that was standing in the doorway. Tall, almost an entire foot taller than myself, and muscular. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a tight short sleeved shirt that showed off every muscle in his body. The muscles of his biceps straining against the fabric as his fists clenched at his sides. A large, and wide barrel chest building up into a classically handsome face. Clean shaven, with long blond hair hanging into his mismatched eyes, one blue and one brown. The mark of the royal family. This wasn’t just some stranger. I was staring at Prince Devin Ben Avon, and he was staring right back at me with bloodlust in his eyes.