CONTENT WARNING: A mild, cut-off dirty joke and a small bit of bad language. Mentions of loss of a baby, and of, you guessed it, mentions of death / murder, and also mention of familial abuse as well.
another year later
Gideon
It seems so surreal, with both of my boys all grown up.
Josiah still lives here, and he plans to stay here. He's at university now, studying medicine and hoping to become a physician. It seemed a little out of nowhere when he told me about it. I don't envy him having to learn the ropes alongside Dr. Annorin, though.
Dan lives with Eli now, doing woodwork alongside him. I still do my fishing, but I'm not getting any younger. I'm happy they're both finding their feet, but it's still a little upsetting when your own children start going their own way. You get so used to their constant company that it hurts to not see them all the time, even if they're both happy in what they're doing.
Josiah still keeps himself to himself, and still doesn't have any friends or a partner at university. Even now, he's still not much of a people person- it does make me wonder how he'll manage a position as an eventual physician with his social apprehensions, but I'm sure he'll find a way. He had the option of going to Britechester, but wanted to stay closer to home, and wanted little to do with the 'elitist snobs' of that corner of the country. Sometimes, when I look at him, I find myself mourning that I did not have the opportunities that he had- but it doesn't matter. What matters is that my son is carving a path for himself in life, and it's something he's enjoying.
He spends most of his time studying from medical books and journals, but he asked his professor about some practical application of the knowledge in said books, and Owen Annorin offered some time towards training him.
"Your brother is awfully late."
"Of course he is," Josiah replies, laughing. "It's impossible for him to be away from Eli for longer than-"
At that moment, Dan bursts through the door and throws his arms around me and then Josiah. It seems like only a day or so ago, they were still just ten-year-old boys running around the garden.
"I'll admit, Dan, I've missed you, and I miss having Josiah around as often. Pardon the sentimentality," I say to him. "It's good to see you again."
"You too, Father. It's been a lot of hard work, but it's worth it, in the end."
"Well, you're not a stranger to hard work, are you? How are things with Eli?"
"They're fine."
"And..."
"No," he replies, bluntly. "I haven't told him. It's water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned."
I hear a deep sigh from Josiah.
"Daniel, you're very much in love with this man. Don't you think you should be honest with-"
His narrow glare says it all- the words he wants to ask me, but won't. And if Ruth were still alive when you were a witchfinder, would you have told her that you killed people? The answer to that, I'm not entirely sure.
"I didn't kill anyone. And he doesn't need to know about the fight I had with Oskar, either. It's in the past, and it doesn't need digging up again."
It's difficult to not think of the situation with Volpe. He's not been a direct threat for some time. You hardly hear of any accusations of witchcraft, mostly because all of the witches here either fled or were killed. If anything, the Jacobans were more of a threat to the witches than Volpe was currently. It still weighs on my mind. I still wish I could have killed him back then.
"Very well. I'm sorry. You may be a man now, but you're still my son, and I still worry about you from time to time."
"I know, Father, but we don't need to worry about that now. As I said, it's in the past."
It's hard not to think about Oskar. I still remember the look on his face, somewhere halfway between regret and acceptance. I remember how much I despised him, but we were just two fathers willing to do anything for our children, and we had more of a reason to despise Volpe instead of each other. As for Eli, he's been good to Daniel, I must admit- but the situation with Oskar and I had meant I've kept my distance and not spoken to him a terrible deal, despite an apology letter I wrote to him for my actions towards him some years ago. He never did reply to that.
"Daniel, Josiah...Promise me just one thing," I say to them, eyeing their fancy clothes I would have dreamed of at their age. "Promise me that, whatever happens, you will both stay humble, won't you?"
"Of course we will," Josiah utters, not looking away from his textbook. "Just because I'm being taught by an Annorin, it doesn't mean I'll become like one. And just because Dan's-"
"Don't you dare, Josiah."
Josiah chuckles to himself as his brother flips a middle finger at him. "And just because Dan's in love with an Annorin, that doesn't mean he'll become like one either. I mean, well, he might become an Annorin if he marries him..." he says, in a playful, mocking tone.
Daniel
Josiah and I take a walk around the park. He seems so much older over the last year or so. I still can't believe he's at university. I'd be bored having to read from books all the time. That's why I like working with wood and stone- it's hands-on.
"How's your time with Owen been? I met him some time last year. Didn't know how to feel about him."
"I don't really like him. He's definitely shady, maybe not as shady as Samuel was, but time will tell." He seems a bit more confident, but he's still got ways to go until he comes out of his shell. "I have to admit, he's a good teacher, at least. I've read some of his medical journals. It's amazing how much he's learned, but I always feel like there's something he's holding back."
"It's pretty fun now that we're also doing a little stonemasonry as well. Only small carvings at the moment, but in a few years, who knows? We might be carving statues of the biggest pricks in Henford for huge amounts of money," I tell him, and we both laugh together.
Josiah looks down into the grass.
"It's weird to think that it was this time not that long ago that..."
That I was made to become a witchfinder. That Micah was killed. That Oskar was killed. What a time for a family reunion. Eli had mentioned similar, and when I told him about possibly trying to reschedule, he told me to go see my family and leave him to his work. Over the years, he's become a completely different person. He still visits his brother now and again, and he's planning to visit his nephew for the first time- but he doesn't do much else outside of his work. I remember when we first started getting closer to each other, how we spoke of a dream of a life outside of work, and now he doesn't want to think of a life outside of it.
"I don't know why everyone's bringing it up. I thought this was supposed to be a fun catch-up?"
"It's hard not to bring it up," Josiah replies, with a sigh. "I'm not worried about us, Dan. That letter said we'd be left alone. It said nothing about Father." We keep walking, and Josiah's gaze is still fixated on the ground. "The reason I decided to study medicine is because I wanted to heal people instead of hurt them. Everything that's happened with both you and Father-"
"Father hasn't hurt anyone for years, Josiah. The only person I hurt was Oskar, and it wasn't that serious. On top of that, he convinced Volpe that he'd killed Oskar. It's fine. We don't have to worry about Volpe, not until he builds up another army of his witchfinders again."
"But-"
"But nothing. Stop worrying about it, and leave it all where it is. Father sorted it. Got that?"
Josiah gives me a reluctant nod. "We should head back home. Father had a special dinner planned for us."
"Oh, really? Is it fish, by any chance?"
Josiah chortles to himself, and a smile replaces his concern. "You know it."
Eli
It's been almost two years since the day the witchfinders attacked. Henford has felt empty since. There aren't a lot of women around; even the ones without magic didn't feel safe after that. I don't hear as many playing children outside, either. There hasn't been much going on since that night, but I know the conflict between Volpe and the witches is far from over.
Violeta has been a line of contact between my sister and my niece, delivering letters between us - and Reynold and I have sent the odd letter. The last one I got from my sister was a year or so ago, and all it mentioned was that she was safe where she was and that she hoped I was getting on well. Violeta told me that she's safe in Glimmerbrook with a little 'family' of fellow witches.
Business has been a bit quieter in Henford, but in the other nearby countries, but word got around about my work- it was the familiar Nivelheim signature that attracted most buyers, but I did my own next to it, for transparency's sake. I had enough money to set up a proper workshop, and with Dan at my side, I can get things done a bit faster...not much faster, since we're a massive distraction to one another...but people are happier to wait now I've built more of a reputation for myself. Strangely, but thankfully, no-one thought I was piggybacking off of Oskar's family name, and they saw it all as homage.
As well as woodwork, I've also gotten into a little stonemasonry. So far, I've only made small projects, but it's nice to have something different to work with.
The animal statue proved to be quite popular, as did the wooden toys. Sometimes, I make things for fun and just sell them off after. It's nice to be able to just make whatever I want on occasion.
Oskar's room hasn't been touched since his murder. I sometimes peer in there for the sake of memories, but I try not to dwell. Trouble is, there's so much that doesn't make sense to me. I still feel like there is plenty being kept from me, as there always was. It's not until recently that I've allowed myself to inwardly question any of it. I just wanted a period where I didn't have to think about who was lying about what, where I could just focus on trying to overcome what happened.
Samuel died from illness- that was what everyone was told, and what everyone believed. There were a couple of times I visited Owen when he said that Samuel was bedridden, and for ages, I didn't question it. The more I think about it, though...The last time I saw Samuel was that night, when he argued with Owen about something. There isn't anyone in the surrounding area who didn't want Samuel dead, and Volpe knew of his magic. Is there a chance Volpe's witchfinders killed him? I never truly believed Samuel and Volpe had anything close to a friendship. Samuel only tolerated him to save his own skin, after all.
Before I have any more time to think about it, Dan cuddles up behind me, and rests his head on my shoulder.
"Do you mind?" I tell him, laughing. "I'm working on something."
I can never seem to think about anything in his arms. It's blissful.
"You've been working on it for hours. You could do with a little break."
Dan is both the reason I have time to do any of this, and the reason I end up getting everything done a lot slower than I would do if I were alone. Since him living with me, I've been trying to think of the future. Eventually, I wouldn't mind taking on an apprentice or two. If I get on okay with that, part of me wonders if Dan might want to adopt a child. I honestly don't know what I'd be like as a father- all I know is that Oskar made me want to be one, eventually.
"I could also do with getting this thing finished off..."
Ever since we first started getting closer to each other, there was something about being around Dan that was almost dreamlike. I didn't have to worry about anything, or think about anything. All I could think about was how lucky I was to be with someone like him, and now, how lucky I am to share the business with him.
Eh, it's only a personal project. It can wait until tomorrow.
* * *
At first, I was excited to finally meet my little nephew, Simon. Now, I'm just horribly anxious about the details that have, once again, been left out by my brother. I know that Owen is likely on-edge about the baby after what happened with Lucia, but I have to ask him.
First off, I make sure to greet the horses- Asclepius, Apollo, and the slightly-nervous white mare, Epione. When I have a bit of spare time, I help the stable boy look after them. There's something healing about being with horses. They're such sweet creatures.
Tilly greets me as I walk in. She seems nice enough. I always joke with her that I hope Owen isn't working her too hard, but she seems to like him, and so does Alex. Apparently, they even all have dinner together, unless Owen and Lydia have something private to discuss.
At the top of the stairs when I get there is my brother, excitedly ushering me up there to see the baby. At first, there's a chill when I walk into the nursery, reminded of when it used to be empty...but a little babbling sound instills a warmth in my chest I've never felt before.
Owen stands behind me, eyes fixed upon the cot, like a wild animal eyeing its offspring from afar. I don't take it personally that he's being overprotective like this. When I gaze down into the crib, my nephew's little smile appears to be infectious.
He kicks his legs about, giggling at me and delighting in the not-too-familiar world around him. To be that young again, so much to explore and be curious about... I can't stop looking at him.
"Go on," Owen says, softly, relaxing his posture. "You can hold him, if you'd like."
I'm a bit reluctant at first, but I shake my nerves away and lift the baby gently into my arms. He stares at me, mouth agape, making little noises to himself until he settles, his hand around my finger.
Looking at him makes me think of Oskar, for some reason. His babbling quietens, and he curls himself up, drifting off in my arms. He's adorable. He has his father's hair colour and his mother's eyes. As he falls asleep, I feel strange, like there's a fire in my stomach- like I wouldn't let anything happen to him.
So that's why I was reminded of Oskar, was it? Have I inherited his paternal nature from him?
I give him a gentle kiss on the head. He's so unbelievably tiny.
"I see he likes you already," Owen says, stroking Simon's head. "I can already tell you're going to be the favourite. You know, I remember holding you when you were his age...Isn't that strange to think about?"
A lot of people growing up found the age gap between me and Owen difficult to believe. Sometimes, I wished we were closer in age; maybe we'd have understood each other better. I notice Owen's a little uneasy, so I carefully hand him over to him, only for poor Simon to immediately start bawling his eyes out.
"Oh- was it something I did?"
"No, it's not you, it's just-"
Simon's wailing grows even louder, and Owen looks like he's out of his depth.
"Whatever is the matter? You were absolutely fine earlier when-"
"...Goodness, you're never like this with your mother..."
* * *
Once Simon finally drifts off to sleep, Owen and I sit in the living room, and the aroma of tea doesn't soothe me at all. I push the nauseating anxiety aside. He raises his head a little, still looking down upon me. "Is there something troubling you?"
It takes some time for my words to leave my lips.
"What really happened to Samuel?"
His eyes widen, and he clears his throat. It's not often that Owen loses his composure.
"Spit it out, Owen. I need to know."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't care about him," I snap. "I just want to know what happened to him on the night of the witchfinders' assault."
He growls to himself, and his fingers curl to form fists. Whether it's because he hoped to never tell me, or because of memories of Samuel, I'm not sure.
"We argued outside. He'd accused me of being too much of a philanthropist, and for healing the witches for no charge to them or their families," he explains, in a hushed voice. "I lost my temper with him, and I told him to never come back."
"And that was the last time you saw him?"
Owen tilts his head back, sighing to himself. I wish he'd stop stalling.
"It was the last time anyone saw him, Eli. Samuel was murdered that night."
A chill strikes me. I don't say anything for a moment, and when the words come out, they come out fractured.
"But- you- you're a doctor- you can't-"
"I didn't do it, Eli. But, I admit...I had him removed from the house because I knew, that night, someone out there would kill him. Witchfinders, the working people...and a certain vengeful mother."
Violeta...
"Owen...Why? Why, of all things, do I feel like this?"
The tears start to stream, and I don't know why. Samuel hated me, and I hated him. He never cared me ever since I was born. I didn't care that he was dead. If anything, I was relieved to find out. He deserved to be murdered... so why do I feel the sickening, churning sensation of bereavement in my chest?
Why is my body mourning a man that my mind despises?
It's not just that, is it? Disbelief. Betrayal. Anger. Violeta said nothing about this- nothing! And my own brother essentially orchestrated his death- and kept that from me this whole time!
I try to withhold my temper. I can't let anyone else in the mansion hear what I'm about to say to him.
"Before you go and lose your temper, Eli, I didn't tell you because you were mourning your true father, and the news on top of that would have been too much for you to handle. I didn't know when would be best to tell you."
"Too much for me to handle?! Owen, I'm a grown man!"
"And you let your emotions get the better of you all of the time," he replies, in a stern manner. "Which is why I didn't tell you about it. I didn't tell you to protect you, and I let Samuel die to protect you- as well as the rest of Henford. Violeta and I wanted the same result, and I knew she'd be flying around that night looking to pick off witchfinders." He takes a breath, and his voice sounds more enraged. "He's at at the bottom of the pond in the park."
One day, I'll be thankful for this. I'll be thankful that I know Samuel met such a grisly end, but... I feel sick to my stomach. Owen kept this from me entirely. I understand having to lie to the public, but-
"Owen-"
"He was in the way, Eli. Of me, of you, of the people of Henford, and of our business."
"That's exactly what Samuel thought about Kat," I tell him, bluntly. He turns to me with a spiteful glare, but I'm right. Now I know why it is that I'm so horrified by it all.
"Owen- it starts with Samuel, but who does it end with?"
"With Samuel, of course," he spits. He takes out his pocketwatch, eyes the time and shoves it back in. "I have a patient to attend to."
With that, the door slams. I hear his muffled voice behind the closed door, friendly, warm and caring.
* * *
The inn is mostly empty, save for two shady types behind me drinking coffee and eating a light meal. I ought to eat, but the sickness of misplaced grief and well-placed anger had diminished my appetite. I tell the barman that it's been a long day, and get a bottle of something he recommends.
Historically, the patriarchs of the Annorin family never got their hands dirty most of the time. If they needed something done,
they found some roundabout way of getting it done that never directly
involved them. I'm pretty sure that's what Owen believes, too. Whenever he talks about the ills of the Annorin lineage, it's always in the past tense.
It's easier to think of something as entirely historical- as if it's something only confined to the past, never to be confronted in the present, only to rear its ugly head in the future. Historical is yesterday's problem, and nobody today would ever dream of doing such a thing.
Nothing has changed. The Annorin patriarchs are still people who find a way to dance around the oath they swore to. Whilst the oath Owen swore to said to never act with violence upon, or otherwise harm a patient, specifically, the general idea is that it extended to all. Samuel lied to the townsfolk to ensure Kat's exile, and Owen kicked out Samuel to ensure his death by the hands of the many people that wanted him dead.
To say I feel bad for Samuel is entirely inaccurate- I don't. I just can't shift this gut feeling of grief for a man who was only my father in biology, but I'm starting to wonder if it's not grief- it's fear. It started with Samuel Annorin, someone who was only in the way of anything good. Owen swore to be nothing like Samuel, and yet...how do I know that this doesn't stop there? If Owen can do this to Samuel, who else could he possibly do it to?
The men behind me talk in hushed voices, and with nothing else to listen to, I find myself honing in on their conversation.
"Quiet in here, eh?"
"I know. Has been since we got rid of all of those witches. Makes you wonder just how many of the buggers were lurking around Henford, doesn't it?"
"Can't trust anyone nowadays, can you? Not even the blokes."
"I've heard whispers about a vampire, though."
"A vampire? The vampire's dead, idiot, don't you remember?"
"No, no that vampire- another one."
"Well, don't worry about it. He'll be dealt with like the last one."
"No, no- this one's a she."
"Are you pulling my leg? Have you ever met a woman who doesn't faint at the sight of blood? I don't believe it."
"I wonder what became of the bloke who killed the vampire in the end..."
"Oh, yeah, what was his name...I remember Volpe talking about him. Said he hated the bloke, but said he was one of the most efficient witchfinders he'd ever hired."
"Gideon?"
"Gideon? That was it, Gideon. Eh, maybe he feared for his life and fled. Who knows how many of the vampire's friends are out there to get him."
"Can't be too bloody careful around these parts."
Violeta.
Violeta told me she didn't know who killed Oskar. Another lie? Another attempt to 'protect' me? Or did she not know? Did Oskar die before he had the chance to tell her who killed him? But what reason would Gideon have to kill Oskar? They hated each other, certainly, but to-
First, my brother withheld the truth about him orchestrating a murder. Now, my partner's father was the one to have killed my own father.
I can't withhold that from her. I need to try and process all of this, somehow- and then Violeta needs to know the truth about how her son was murdered.