Chapter Text
One, two, three, four. Four times. Four times did they stab him. Four times did Fleance see the knife enter the unconscious body of his father. The man who raised him. Picked him up when he fell and encouraged him in every step of his journey. He couldn’t even see their face, couldn’t decipher their expression. Did they even feel any guilt? Remorse? Any empathy?
„John, I think he’s dead. Come on, let’s search the boy.“ said one of the masked men, observing John, who halted in his action.
As if he was thrown into cold water, Flence suddenly awoke out if his trance. His shock wore off and he was immediately aware of the imminent danger. They were looking for him, he needed to survive, needed to get out of here. Only then did he realize, he was already running, tripping over roots but never stopping. Tree branches snapping against him that he only registered seconds later. In the dark, every tree looked like a hand grabbing him, like a spear before it pierces right through his heart, like death longing for his soul. In the distance he heard some shouting, followed by a dark cloud rising from the crown of the forest, taking the form of the grim. Finally he fell.
Water whirling around him, mirroring the thoughts whirling around his head. He saw the blood before he could even register the pain. Everywhere he looked, red. Red for the blood of his father, for the blood of his own, for the pain about to subdue him and guide him to his eternal rest. Momentarily, he could feel his lungs fill up with water, an excruciating pain that sharpened every second. Air. His brain called for air. He wanted to breathe but the water was everywhere. Air. He couldn’t even tell where it was. Was the surface below him or above? He couldn’t resist any longer. He took a breath, but instead of air he felt water filling up his airway. It felt like his lungs were about to explode.
Then his brain short circuited, and suddenly he was out of the water, coughing up a mixture of water and blood. Instead of the uncomfortable warmth from before, he felt a numbing cold swallowing him. It was cold, too cold, and Fleance was in so much pain. His lungs filled up with too much air all at once, overwhelming him and causing him to sink to the ground. He became aware of the painful sensation that seemed to be the cause of the blood. There’s was a big gash right above his chest, his inblood soaked garment teared and exposing the wound to the cold. It stung but atleast it didn’t bleed anymore. Bringing his hand up to his head he felt warm blood coating his hands. A jolt of pain shot through his head, he almost passed out.
After a few moments, he took the time to look around. A river ran infront of him, a forest strechted itself across him. He was sitting on the shore, soaked in water and still breathing heavily. It was still light outside but despite that he felt alarmingly unsafe. It was only then that he realized the extent of his situation. He just escaped two murderers. He watched his own father die infront of him. The last words he ever spoke were “Fleance, run!“ Even as he faced death, his only concern was his child. How could Fleance ever live again, guilty with knowing that his father died to give him more time. He couldn’t, no he wouldn’t. It all became too much for him. He tasted salt on his lips and it was then that he realized he was crying. A heavy sob escaped his throat and he finally collapsed; everything went black.
Fleance slowly opened his eyes, a sharp pain traveling through his entire body. He immediately closed his eyes again, unsure if he wanted to keep going or succumb to his pain and slowly die. Light, peeking through the vastness of trees, taunted him, tickling him until he couldn’t fall asleep anymore. He finally gave in and opened his eyes again, once again, pain followed after he tried to sit up. With a pounding headache he managed to properly stabilize himself. On top of that he also felt hunger nagging on his mind. He had to leave. He needed to get as far away from Scotland as possible. Lucky for him, his father brought them to their cottage, bordering England. He might aswell already be on english soil, had illegaly passed the border, so to say.
Putting his not wounded arm on the floor, he managed to heave himself up, clinging onto a nearby tree seconds before losing his balance.
“I need to get out of here. I need- a village, some food, something to treat my wounds“, Fleance murmured. Following a seemingly random trail, he began his journey. So far, he had not encountered anyone. For a moment he considered walking against the river stream, trying to retrace his steps and find his father’s cottage, but brushed it off quickly when he looked at his gash right across his chest. Too much of a risk at encountering the murderers again or even worse, finding the cottage and seeing his father. He couldn’t risk it, not right now. He needed to stay strong and composed, not face a panic attack in the midst of his unlucky situation.
He started walking along the river, hoping for some kind of sign of civilization. It was a long and dreadful walk, hunger constantly torturing him and his headache consistent. In addition, his legs started to give out more than once, despite having slept for quite a while. Fleance knew that is the lack of food and water on top of his near death experience. He thought it would be better to stop walking, try to gather food in his vicinity but he was determined to find village, or a person before the sun set. No matter where he turned, it seemed like the path only got more vague and the forest grew thicker. Multiple breaks were taken be suse Fleance’s legs were tired but that didn’t stop his stubbornness to mentally scold himself for pausing. As the sky displayed a colorful explosion, he finally gave up and laid beside a bush. Hoping for someone to find and end his suffering, he fell asleep.