The iron shackles tore the skin of her wrists and ankles but she couldn't stop, if she stopped, if she slowed or screamed they'd beat her. Why her, why not Niobe or Gwenyth? She knew for a fact that Gwenyth was fae, no one ever said it but Gwen never tried to hide her pointed ears. But no, Lily knew why, Gwenyth made money, Lily didn't, not yet anyway, not ever now. Now she would never see the House again, never see Odessa or Finley or Violetta.
No, now she would die here, and no one would ever know, she would be thrown into one of the mass graves and forgotten. But she had been forgotten long ago. And she wondered, wondered if her sister's would recognize her if they saw her now. A slave in a coal mine, her hair once white blonde now so dirty and tangled it looked like soil. Her skin once smooth and soft now scarred and streaked with dirt. Her eyes once light, the silver ringing her irises bright and shining, were now dark and shadowed. Would her mother look down from the After and not tell whether her daughter was the one on the left of the overseer, or the one in the back, or the one just behind the dark haired man? Would she even recognize herself? If the child she had been so many years ago could see her now, what would she do? Would she run from her fate? Or would she deny it until it overcame her? Lily didn't know, she didn't want to. That girl was dead, that girl was forgotten. Only remembered by a few people once a year when they tied a grey string to a tree and let the wind blow it every which way. Letting it float away on an end of the day breeze.
She had seen those strings a hundred times, and each time she had just walked away trying not to look at the people who still remembered. Trying not to notice who mourned that dead little girl, trying not to notice when strings were blown into her bedroom through a window she didn't remember leaving open. Lily never wore grey, she had avoided the color all she could, but it surrounded her now, the stones and smoke and misery. It surrounded her along with death, waiting for what had been stolen from it so many years ago.
The girl chained beside her, it was her, it was that dead girl, the one whom she had loved so dearly. It was her, the hair, the eyes, the nose. It was her. For a moment she was somewhere else, someone else. For a moment she was 5 years old and running in the meadow with her friends, watching ladybugs crawl and weaving flowers into each other's hair. For a moment the world was good and happy and everything was okay. And then the whip cracked and she remembered. That day came crashing down on her like a bolt of lightning. All she could do was sit there collapsed on the floor and cry. All she could do was take the lashes, but through her blurry vision she saw the other slaves stop and turn, saw the girl watch her and kneel beside her. Saw the girl reach out her hand for Lily's. And she felt the girl squeeze her hand in hers as the whip cracked and everything dissolved into darkness.
It was cold, it was so, so cold and she couldn't stop shivering and shaking and coughing. The coughing, she was heaving up water on a frozen river bank, and it was so so cold and-
"Dear gods are you- I mean who- why- Oh gods we have to get you inside!" The voice was sweet and comforting, though not much older than her, and then someone was wrapping their warm arms around her, holding her tight.
The girl held her, picked her up and carried her, frozen nightgown and all, to wherever they were going. She just leaned into the warmth of the girl's fleece coat, and the blood pulsing its warmth through her. Than she was inside, being set down on a rug or chair or something nice and warm and-
"What in the world!" came the shrieking voice of a woman who bounded into the room. The girl that had brought a blanket over and swiftly wrapped her in it before going over to the fireplace and feeding another log into the flames. The girl, the one who had saved her, had dark brown hair, curling in short ringlets piled in a bun at the crown of her head, the locks that fell loose framed the girl's face in a way that made her an oddly comforting sight.
"I'm going to go get you some tea." the girl said seemingly to herself. The girl left the room, walking right past the older women in the archway.
"Odessa, get back here!" the woman gave her a scowl before storming after the girl, Odessa. When they returned a few minutes later, Odessa with a cup of warm tea and the older woman with a slightly less disgruntled look on her face. Odessa handed her the cup, the warmth seeped through the mug and into her fingers and she sipped the steaming tea.
"Now that you're warm, what's your name dear, and what on earth were you doing in that river?"
She was still shivering, teeth still chattering tea and all but she managed to get out, "Li-l-Li-"
"Lily?" she couldn't gather the energy to shake her head so she let the girl, Odessa, go on, "Well Lily it's okay now you're safe now, and you can stay here as long as you need." the older women scowled again at that but kept quiet. Odessa sat beside her then, wrapping her arms around her and just holding her there. Swaying a bit from side to side whispering, "Everything will be alright, you're safe now." into her ear. After a few moments the older women left the room, storming away and calling out orders that someone let the new girl sleep with them, a chorus of 'not it's and one 'I'll do it' answered in reply.
"You know, when I'm scared, or frightened or sad I always think about the happy moments. I was told once that without sadness happiness is meaningless, it doesn't exist. So when I'm sad I think about the fact that as sad or scared or hopeless as I am now, that's how happy I'll be someday. I like to think about that, what will be the thing that makes me so happy? And suddenly even though I'm sad, I know someday I won't be." Odessa hummed. And the warmth, the tone of her voice, it was like her mother was holding her and she was happy. Like none of the last days were real, just a dream, and she was drifting back to the darkness.
The next day when Lily rose to consciousness she found someone was holding her, and another rubbing ointment on the lashes. Someone was singing an old song, one she remembered from that time of before.
"Oh, have you seen the faeries dance
Upon a Summer's night
And watched the gnomes and pixies prance
When'er the moon is bright'
The voice was quiet but not with disuse, with fear of someone overhearing. And though Lily hadn't heard the girl's voice before she knew it was her, that the girl sang every night, and to everyone who was whipped by the overseer. So Lily relaxed in the girls arms not feeling pain as she let herself drift into dreams or were they memories, of watching figures dance in the quiet unseen parts of the forest at night, of being tucked into bed while her mother sang her this, their song of old. And so she let herself dissolve into the lilting voice and its old familiar melody
"Tis splendid fun to see them run
As soon as it grows light"
When Lily woke up in the mines a month later she found a scarp of grey ribbon tied around hair, like the wind itself had swept back her ragged knotting wisps. She felt the cool scrap of ribbon between her fingers rubbing the lacy fabric, and she looked to the North, she saw past the rocky ceiling and the floors of miserable slaves, and up to a phantom sky she misses so, and a she felt the three faced goddess watching her, and for the first time and a long time Lythian smiled at the feeling.
