Chapter Text
Current date outside the loop: November 10th, 1918
Current date inside the loop: July 20th, 1558
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Æthelthryth and I began our next journey, from Westminster Abbey to my former home. The weather was dreary, and without any faster way of transportation offered or available, a long walk. Sometimes the ymbryne flew ahead, perched on my shoulder, or fell asleep in my satchel which contained her red silk gown. The wool dress only became heavier and my ringlets were soaked, going poker straight in a matter of minutes as the rain continued to fall.
Though my feet burned like hell I didn't bother to stop unless it was important. After almost a full day the first houses of my village came into view as the sun began to set and the rain to fade.
My home, a small two-room cottage, light dancing from the singular window as people constantly passed by it.
I sat there, under the window, listening to both the laughing and scolding.
I sat there, staring at the flame from my lighter.
I sat there, puffing on cigarettes, yet nobody seemed to notice.
Nobody noticed the smell.
Nobody noticed the smoke.
Nobody noticed me.
All I know is that at one point my satchel became lighter, indicating that Ketstrel had left.
I stood, finally gathering enough courage to knock on the door, to face my family… to face my eldest brother. Those cigarettes weren't enough to calm my nerves and I ended up taking long swigs of vodka before attempting to do so when the sound of heavy footsteps came up the dirt road.
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"Such a nuisance! you're so useless that I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!"
"I'm sorry, papa, please." I pleaded.
"Papa, stop!" Eldest sister screamed as the whip struck my back, "Blame me! It's not Catherine's fault, it's mine! Punish me instead!"
But it was useless, her pleas fell on deaf ears. The offense I was currently being punished for- tripping and dropping a plate of food. It was Christmas, one of the few days out of the year that we had meat.
A second crack. A third. A fourth. I can feel the warm blood running down my stinging back as it suddenly stopped.
The tears blurred my vision but I knew exactly what Joan was doing. She was the only one who ever dared to take our father's chosen weapon right out of his hands. She followed this with rubbing his shoulders and whispering in his ear. Finally, when he calmed down enough she would take him by the hand and go outside. That's when sobbing could be heard from around the back of our home.
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I didn't wait for the man to get any closer. I took off, hiding in the tall corn stalks, and ended up passing out.
The morning rays of sun streaming through the crop wasn't what woke me, It was the sound of two men bickering getting closer, and a dog slobbering all over my face. I was covered in dirt, dew, and now slobber while ants marched over my arm and a frog decided it was a good idea to nestle into my tangled hair.
The bird was nowhere to be seen.
"Get off!" I panicked, kicking the mangy dog off.
"Oi! What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing."
"I'm sorry sir," I started, "I- I was just lookn' for a place to rest. It was late, no one was up."
He seemed to accept this with a gesture to follow.
My home once again came into view; this time with Agnes, impatiently tapping her left foot in the doorway while she waited- My sister-in-law. She had always been tall and rather plump, eternally wearing a dour expression, yet now, here she stood before me; at least a head shorter than I am, golden hair gone silver-white, whittled down to skin and bones- Even from far away I could tell she had become a frail, tired old woman.
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It was an arranged marriage. The blacksmith that eldest brother had apprenticed for had taken quite the liking to him, and as he had only daughters, came to an agreement with father.
I still remember the day of the ceremony; I must have been about five or six at the time, the day was gloomy with constant rain, but this girl of seventeen lit up the whole church. In her best, and only, formal dress, with lavender and rosemary tucked into the golden braids that circled her head.
The feast that followed was certainly memorable. Everyone was there, even the lord of our land, who was friendly with Agnes' father, showed up.
The majority of the village had believed it was an ill match, but nobody dared to say anything when the slightest mention of my brother turned her ears pink and cheeks tomato red.
They welcomed the first of twelve children later that year. The first, and only, of my nieces and nephews that I've met until today- a little boy named Albert.
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She shrieked at the sight of us, rushing forward faster than any elder I've known, grabbing the man's arm to drag him away and failing.
I knew it wouldn't be a warm welcome, but I hadn't expected her to tear away at my dress, nails digging deep into my shoulder. I knew what she was looking for- the branding- and she'd found it.
Ordering her son, the same one that I had held when he was just a babe, to tie my hands with rope while she screeched on and on about the devil and witches- all that nonsense throughout the village. Before I knew it there was a crowd following, almost all of them wanting me hung.