Work Text:
They were three days out of Augsburg before Gretel realised that they were being followed.
It was subtle at first - too subtle for her, it seemed, but then she had been a little distracted, remembering the weight of Muriel's wand in her hand too well, the way that it fit so perfectly, so temptingly - but even Gretel noticed the rustling in the undergrowth eventually, the slight snapping of twigs behind them as they moved deeper through the forest.
Hansel, damn him, just snorted when she held her hand up to stop him, the same move calling for silence as she tilted her head to listen for more.
"He's your stray," Hansel said, simply shrugging when she glared at him. "Not my fault if he decided to follow you home." He jerked his head towards Ben, who was watching her with wide eyes, full to the brim with excitement and his fingers closing around the handle of the small knife - very small, because neither of them were that stupid, or entirely sure that Ben knew which end was which. "I've got one of my own to deal with."
And that was how Edward joined their merry little band.
-o-
"Trolls serve witches," was all Edward said when she asked him about it later. He didn't shrug, not like Hansel, but his tone was the same.
Gretel didn't push him. Not yet. Not about that.
Not about witchcraft.
-o-
It turned out that there was one advantage to having Edward with them - his presence kept Ben in a state of stunned, awed silence for at least half a day.
Of course, that might to be the only upside. There were too many downsides for Gretel's comfort, and it was all too easy to let them flit through her mind, one by one, with Hansel trudging silently beside her, his face creased in thought.
They'd have to avoid villages for a while, at least until word spread that they were still Hansel and Gretel, still fighting evil, even with a troll trailing after them. Which meant that food would be limited to what they could hunt or trade for, and she had no idea what trolls ate, except 'a lot'. Then she needed to factor in feeding a teenage boy, which increased it to 'twice a lot'.
She gnawed it over in her mind, knowing what she was avoiding, that it was easier to focus on the practicalities of the situation than it was to think about the things she was most definitely not thinking about. Like the fact that Hansel, for all of his silence, was stealing regular looks at Edward as though he half expected the troll to be true to type.
What they'd thought was type, anyway. They'd thought a lot of things before Augsburg, none of them true.
She wasn't thinking about them now. Determinedly so, and she could out-stubborn her brother when she put her mind to it.
Even so, it was a relief when Ben finally cracked, not even a troll up close able to keep him silent for long.
His inane chatter as he peppered Edward with questions - with the occasional aside to Hansel or Gretel herself - made it just that little bit easier not to think at all.
-o-
Hansel called a halt before dusk, leaving Edward and Ben to build up the fire and set camp while he set snares. Gretel busied herself with checking over their weapons, taking it slowly and methodically as though their lives depended on them.
They did.
She half expected Ben to hover around her the way he had been ever since they'd left Augsburg, asking the kind of questions she didn't have the patience to answer, but it seemed that Edward was the bigger draw tonight. She understood why; she could barely drag her eyes away from Edward herself, watching him with a mixture of trepidation and relief as he broke something the size of a small tree down into more manageable chunks with his bare hands.
She was still watching him when Hansel finally made his way back to camp, clutching a couple of coneys with one bloodied hand.
"Huh." Hansel gave her a sideways look, one she ignored. "Fire seems a little big for a couple of rabbits."
She shrugged, still keeping her eyes fixed on Edward. "Maybe the boys thought you'd bring back something a little more impressive."
Hansel snorted, rocking on his heels. "Anyone who doesn't like what I've got can go catch their own goddamned dinner."
Now that sounded like a challenge to Gretel, so, really, Hansel shouldn't have been surprised when she came back with three rabbits, or when Edward came back with a boar.
-o-
"See, he'll be useful," she murmured, leaning back on her elbows and staring into the fire. It was a perfect night - crisp and clear - and the fire sparked and spluttered in front of her, sending shadows dancing around the clearing. She had a belly full of wild pig and the comforting scent of bacon drifted through the air, something that even now, years later, she associated with a home she'd almost forgotten.
And that wound was newly raw, ripped open again and bleeding.
She bit at her lip, all those thoughts bubbling to the surface, sparking and spluttering like the fire. Easier to focus on the now, than the past or the future. Easier to argue, even though Hansel hadn't said a word.
"He will, Hansel." He will. The words echoed around her mind, sharp and sure when her surety had vanished and only the sharpness remained.
Hansel grunted, his expression unreadable in the light of the flicking flames. He poked at the fire with a stick, one that was already charring and smoking; for a second, the end glowed red embers, bright in the darkness, and Gretel looked away.
Muriel's wand had glowed like that when Gretel's fingers had wrapped around it, something bright and unspeakably evil. The wand that even now weighed down her backpack as well as on her mind.
"It was the right choice."
Hansel still said nothing, but then she supposed she'd left nothing for him to say.
-o-
Trolls didn't seem to sleep, or Edward didn't. He was sitting by the fire, staring silently into the flames, when she finally fell asleep that night and was still there, still staring, when Hansel shook her awake after his watch.
It was late, but the fire hadn't died down completely, not the way it would have done with only her and Hansel to tend it. She supposed she had Edward to thank for that - Edward to thank for so many things, up to and including her life.
Hansel rolled himself up in her blankets when she finally struggled out of them, stealing her warmth as she stretched until her joints cracked. She couldn't blame him for that - in spite of the fire, there was a chill in the air, something that hinted of winter. She watched him for a moment, and then leaned down to ruffle his hair, smiling when he swatted her hand away, already half asleep.
It was quiet at this time of night, when nothing but the most hardy of hunters or most foolish of prey ventured forth. She listened for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dimness and her ears to the faint noises around her - Ben's slightly wheezy breath, the distant cry of a fox. Hansel was already drifting away at her feet, and Edward was watching her across their makeshift hearth, his head tilted towards her.
She hesitated for only a moment before heading towards him, settling down in the shadow his form cast even with this faint moon. He was reassuringly solid, blending into the night sky as though he were carved from rock or hewn from oak.
"I'm not a witch," she said quietly, watching the flames because it was easier that way. "I know what you think, but... that's not me."
Edward let out a sound, something that wasn't quite agreement but that rumbled through him anyway.
"I'm not," she said. This time Edward didn't make a sound, not even when Gretel leaned against him, and stole some of his warmth for herself.
-o-
Ben bought newspapers wherever they went, collecting them the way that magpies collected shiny things. Each morning, after he'd come back from whatever town they were near, laden down with bread that was no more than a couple of days old and maybe some milk if they were lucky, he would sit down by the remnants of the previous night's fire, shovelling his breakfast into him with one hand while the other flicked through the paper, looking for who knew what.
Witches, it turned out.
"This one," he said, stabbing his finger at the paper triumphantly. "Three children missing in two months. Witches like children, right?"
"So do a lot of other things." Hansel tested the blade he'd been sharpening, his thumb tentative against the sharp edge. "Wolves, for example. Trolls for another."
The rumble that Edward let out this time was disapproving - Gretel was beginning to tell them apart. So was Hansel, if his rolled eyes were any indication. He pointed his blade in Edward's direction, the move for emphasis, not threatening.
"Trolls sometimes take children. You can't deny that, Edward."
"For witches," Edward said.
"Really?" Ben piped up, his newspaper forgotten with the prospect of more interesting facts on the horizon. "Trolls don't actually eat children if there isn't a witch involved?"
Gretel sighed. "It could just be a person. Wouldn't be the first time that some sick bastard took someone else's child to play with."
"Yes, but if it's a troll..."
Edward's nose wrinkled up. "Trolls serve witches," he said slowly, "not take children."
"But if a troll does takes a child..." Ben screwed his fact up thoughtfully. "That means he's taken it for a witch?"
Edward hesitated for a moment before inclining his head in agreement. Gretel wondered sometimes how much choice there was.
So, apparently, had Hansel.
"If it is a witch, then we need to talk about this." Hansel's tone was flat, hard enough to silence even Ben.
"About?" Oh, she knew what was coming - knew her brother too well not to have somehow expected it, although she'd expected it far sooner if it was going to happen at all - but that didn't mean she was going to make it easy on him.
"Trolls serve witches." He was ignoring her, and she bristled at that, bristled at the way he was looking at Edward, at the way he was bringing this up now when she'd thought she was safe.
Edward nodded again, that same stately acknowledgement that he'd given Ben. Gretel couldn't even guess at what he was thinking, but then she may never be able to. Resigned, perhaps. Maybe he'd been expecting this, too.
"How much of a choice do you get?"
Edward blinked at him, the move as slow and stately as his nod. He didn't answer, but the way he tilted his head suggested he was thinking about the question, thinking about it and whether or not he had an answer.
"Trolls serve witches." Edward said it as though that was the only answer he could give, the only answer he would ever be able to give.
"Is that all witches, no matter what? Or do you get to pick?"
Edward took a second to consider that, his bright blue eyes holding Hansel's gaze. "Trolls serve witches. I serve Gretel."
She didn't want a servant, she'd never wanted a servant, and she could already feel the tangled mess of fear and guilt and grief growing inside her chest, but Hansel hadn't finished yet. "And if something happens to Gretel? If another witch then told you to hurt me or Ben?"
Edward held Hansel's gaze for a long moment before turning those brilliant eyes towards Gretel. "Tell me," he said, his voice low and certain. More certain than Gretel, who took long moments to realise what he meant.
"If anything happens to me..." Her voice was steady, too steady given the growing anger in the pit of her stomach, the tightness still looming in her chest. "You protect Hansel and Ben. You don't hurt them."
Edward nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. But some of the stiffness left his body, something like gratitude in his stance, the stance that she could now read all too well.
And all Gretel could feel was guilt.
-o-
"You shouldn't have done that."
Hansel pulled a face, and her fingers curled automatically into a fist, her blood burning, hot and angry.
She'd never hit her brother. Never would have, before today.
"I had to do it." His tone was impatient instead of the too patient tone he took when he was humouring her, which was just as well for his face. "Gretel..."
"Don't you -"
"Gretel!" He caught hold of her arms, shaking her slightly, more to get her attention, she thought, than due to temper. "Think."
"I am thinking!"
"If he was human. If he was under a... compulsion, a spell... What would you do, Gretel? What would you do?"
She stared at him, strangely resentful that he could talk sense when some days it seemed like the anger was all she had to keep the fear at bay.
But this was Hansel, and she'd never been able to stay mad at him for long.
"I couldn't trust him," she said. "Even though it wouldn't be his fault."
Hansel nodded, taking a step back and letting his palms slide down her arms in silent apology before he finally let go.
"Trolls serve witches, that's what Edward says," he said quietly. The look in his eyes was sympathetic, so sympathetic that she had to look away. "There are good witches in the world, Gretel. Mina was proof of that, and our mother. So if it is some sort of magic or a compulsion, then maybe serving you is the best he can do."
"But, I'm not a witch." The protestation was automatic, but neither of them believed it.
Not anymore.
-o-
She dreamed of Muriel's wand sometimes, of the weight of it, of the power coursing through it, of Mina's blood, drying red and tacky, on the shaft of it. When she woke from one of those dreams, she brought her hands up to her face, looking for the blood in the firelight.
Not finding it was not as reassuring as she'd hoped.
And sometimes when she dreamed it was of her mother - her mother's voice, her mother's warmth, the scent of her mother's breath as she leaned over to kiss Gretel goodnight.
She felt the phantom of that kiss on her skin when she woke, her fingers touching her cheek and finding nothing but the saltiness of tears.
Edward was watching her steadily across the fire, his face illuminated by the dying embers. There was no expectation in his gaze, nothing except a calm, sure presence, somehow comforting.
Gretel rolled over and went back to sleep.
This time she didn't dream. Not that she remembered.
-o-
"I'm not a witch," she said quietly to Edward in the still of that night. The fire crackled, burning ash drifting into the air, red and gold pinpricks of light until they faded and died. Gretel watched them, one by one, as Edward breathed slowly and patiently beside her. "But if I was..."
The stillness held for a moment, and then Edward sighed. She expected him to stay silent, stay present the way that he usually did, but instead he shifted position, a slow rumble running through him. "Trolls serve witches," he said again, and Gretel closed her eyes, feeling that faint spark within her fading like the fire's embers. But Edward hadn't finished, not yet. "Most are bad. Most trolls serve dark witches."
"Most," she whispered, and felt rather than saw Edward nod.
"Most," Edward agreed. "Not all."
That gave her enough hope to look at him. "How do you know the difference?"
It took a moment to realise that the soft sound Edward let out this time was laughter. It died down when he realised that she wasn't laughing too.
He sighed again, but the sound was somehow patient. "Magic is not here," he said, reaching out to press one large finger gently against her forehead. "It is here." This time his finger pressed against her breast, still unbearably gentle as it came to rest right over her heart.
A heart that was beating more steadily now, and less like a bird caught in a trap.
"There is a darkness in me," she said, holding Edward's gaze now, her mind as steady as her heart. "In everyone, I suppose, but in me... We've lived a hard life, Hansel and I, and we've not always been good, or kind."
Edward stared at her for a moment, and then his finger moved again, pointing towards Hansel and then Ben. "Magic also lives there." He looked back at her, pausing for a moment to let his words sink in.
"No dark witch loves, Gretel. No dark witch can."
He turned back towards the fire, his piece - the most that Gretel had ever heard him say - apparently said.
She watched him for a moment, letting the peace of his presence wash over her, and then leaned in towards him, placing her palm over his heart. The heart that had stopped beating for her sake, and now beat again because of her.
"It's also here," she said softly, and for the first time since she'd met him, Gretel saw Edward smile.
-o-
At first sight, Heidensburg looked like a shit hole, but it was far from the first pit they'd ever visited. It was too big to be a hamlet, but not quite big enough to be a town, even though it was trying to spread across the meadows beneath them. Maybe it would even get there one day. At the moment, however, it was more like a village with pretensions.
And witches, if Ben's hunch was right.
Gretel didn't doubt it. She'd left her doubts behind, burned into ash with Muriel's wand in the deep, dark woods. Edward had done that, keeping Ben at a safe distance as the dark wood had screamed, writhing and turning the flames a sickly green.
Gretel had been less cautious, standing close enough to the flames to feel the heat of them burning her face, smoke curling around her and Hansel right by her side. They'd never had to fear dark magic, not when the spells didn't work on them.
She didn't have to fear it now. There was a new weight in her backpack, a lighter one of rosewood and hope that Edward had helped her craft.
Her mother had always loved her roses. Her roses and her children both.
"Ready?" Hansel asked her and she nodded, shifting her backpack on her shoulders until the weight settled evenly, until she didn't notice it at all.
"Okay. Let's go kill us some witches. Ben, that does not include you."
Gretel smiled, letting Ben's automatic protests wash over her as she headed down the hill towards the village, Edward that same calm, steady presence he always was, and just where he should be.
Right beside her.
The end