Chapter Text
“While he lay here (New York, 1784) a circumstance happened which I thought extremely singular. One day, a malefactor was to be executed on the gallows, but with the condition that if any woman, having nothing on her but her shift, married a man under the gallows, his life would be saved. This extraordinary privilege was claimed; and a woman presented herself, and the marriage ceremony was performed.”
—“The Interesting Narrative of The Life of Oulandah Equians, or Gustavus Vassa, Written by Himself”
––❀––
Thwack
Yor maintained the release position briefly, allowed the arrow to tremble in place for a moment. A small, satisfied smile graced her lips as she took in the cluster of shots all neatly gathered at the bullseye's center.
Her improvement in the last few months alone had been immense. While her brother may have wanted to see it otherwise, she believed herself to be quite the natural with the bow. All the better for them— guardsmen pay was surprisingly sparse for the risks they endured. It was good that they might have a secondary source of food if his earnings didn’t put enough food on the table some day.
She lifted her skirt to step carefully over some brambles as she walked towards her practice target, doing her best to keep the fabric away from the thorns. The wood wasn’t great for the arrow tips, but they were mendable. She’d rather buy more arrowheads than miss her shot when the bigger game finally crossed in front of her sights.
The last projectile came loose from the tree with a heavier pull, wood chips following after it. She was examining its tip when another, more uncommon sound followed. Crunch. Yor looked past the range to where the sound had arisen, notching the arrow to her bowstring. Small game, she thought, creeping forward with the weapon in her hands half-drawn. Not her favorite target. The meat was often torn up from the arrow and much more difficult to cook with. But it never hurt to get more practice in on actually moving targets; they were also still worth something as pelts or traveling rations in the markets.
The disturbance, not quieting as an animal might, but growing louder as she approached, was starting to set off an uneasiness in her limbs. Something larger? Yor stopped. The sounds were actually rather heavy. She only came out here armed for target practice, not prepared for any kind of fight. She might be able to take out a wolf if she really tried, but a mountain cat or bear was out of the question. Or something more sinister, coming out of legend to terrorize these woods, no matter how familiar they may be to her. She had only half-believed the stories their father had told them in youth, but the possibility of such things ever existing hadn’t entirely left her mind.
It may be better to turn back now while she had the space around her to run. She could find Yuri, or some of the other guardsmen or even one of the smiths to look into this for her instead. The grove she was in waited quietly for her decision.
At last, she sighed. Her feet continued their journey forward once more. She had always rather hated feeling too helpless to do anything, anyway. If nothing else, she needed to at least get a look at what it was so she could give the town an accurate report of what they were fighting.
Closer and closer she drew to the noise, doing what she could to silence her own disturbances. She shouldn’t have to shoot, but flexed her hand on the wood and curled her fingers tighter around the string all the same in some kind of strange, soothing gesture for her nerves. Just a glimpse. Whatever beast it is and a size to tell Yuri about. If you must, shoot to put it off as you flee.
Yor ducked past one more oak’s branch; it was right in front of her now. Just one look. She crept forward with the quietest steps she could place to finally encounter…
A man.
No beast of any sort awaited her in the next little clearing except for him, back turned, invested in whatever sat in front of him making so much noise. He didn’t even have a state of mind to look up at her approach.
Yor’s shoulders dropped, the adrenaline fizzling out of her veins and the tension of a fight leaving her chest. Well, of course she hadn’t wanted to encounter a bear, but this was still a bit disappointing to say the least. She could’ve had an exciting story to bring home and spice up the week’s monotony even if she wasn’t planning to hunt whatever she discovered.
He still hadn’t noticed her; she looked down, intentionally setting her next step on a brittle twig. When he didn’t respond again, she coughed. And when he still didn’t see her, Yor found her best course of action to walk up even closer, halving the distance between them. “Hello?”
Only then did he acknowledge her presence, looking partly over his shoulder to where she stood. It didn’t appear to startle him. He only smiled, returned her greeting back to her, “Hello,” before looking down again to continue his work.
Yor watched him with slightly parted lips. Some conversationalist. She drew nearer to him, coming partly around the side to further enter his field of view. “You don’t seem to be bothered by my approach.”
“No, you’re not bothering me.”
You’re bothering me, she was tempted to say, but held back. “I’m shooting over there,” she offered instead, gesturing with her weapon to the side of the forest she had come from. “Towards this direction.”
Maybe he would gather the hints she had left himself and she wouldn’t have to confront this any longer. He frowned, turning his head. Moppy locks colored like hay shuddered every time he moved. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was your private land I had entered.”
”Well, not mine exactly… It belongs to the townspeople for hunting and gathering on. We all own it, in a way.”
“Ah.” He smiled once more. His hands went back to their business on the ground. “Then there’s no problem with my being here for my work.”
He took no such hints, to her disappointment.
His attention now diverted from her completely to his tasks, what looked to be some sort of elaborate branch breaking ritual. The noisiness made far more sense now. Yor squeezed the bow’s grip in both hands in front of her. She had no reason to be getting as upset at this as she was. There was no requirement hanging over her to complete her shooting practice, not being under a mentor’s tutelage nor a member of the town’s guard or any other profession requiring frequent weaponry usage. But it was a quiet, pleasant activity that marked a checkpoint in her day that she would quite prefer to complete. That she was being stopped from doing so now, even in a publicly operated space, irked her more than it should have.
At last, frustration got the better of her. “Sir, please!” Whether he looked up at her again or not, she could not say, having squeezed her eyes shut tight alongside her grip in an effort to get all she had to say out in one attempt. “Would you kindly proceed with your activities elsewhere? I fear with you standing behind my target, a stray arrow may hit you. And I’m not very skilled at treating projectile wounds.”
His hands halted, knees rising until he sat facing her in a crouch. Oh, had she angered him now? Well, he had angered her, not minding when someone was wanting him to move on his way for his own good. So perhaps this was all fairness!
“Is your aim not true?”
Yor sighed, arms crossing. “It often is. But anything may happen. I would rather you stayed out of my line of fire and within safety.”
He looked her up and down, eyes seeming to linger on the way she handled the bow before meeting the gaze she held him under. His eyes, despite their cool hue, had an unusually playful warmth in them when he smiled. “You seem a fine markswoman to me. I have no fear of your arrows striking me.” Her shoulders and crossed arms fell to her sides; she was going to have to go home and wait until tomorrow when he departed. And Yuri would not be back for another hour. How boring the rest of the afternoon would be if she could not practice.
”But,” She looked towards him. He gathered several varied handfuls of plants and flora into his bag, and stood. Now that he was upright, she found him to be standing nearly a head above her. “I seem to be bothering you while I stay here. I will find another growth to collect from, out of your range.”
”I’m not bothered, only concerned for your health,” she mumbled. Before he took off, he reached into his satchel to procure a small bundle of white flowers, offering them before her. Yor felt her cheeks grow warm.
”Chamomile. Good for ailments of stress,” the man explained. “They taste most pleasant in tea.” When she didn’t reach for them, he gently tucked them into the hand not holding her bow. The warmth multiplied where his fingers brushed her palm.
He extended her a half-bow before leaving, “May you have a lovely evening, madam bowman,” and with that, the trees swallowed him up once more.
Yor looked between his disappearance and the partially-wilted flowers pressed into her hand. She raised the bunch to her nostrils— an earthy, grounded, smoky smell reached her senses.
She supposed it wasn’t not soothing.
––❀––
“We could spend the day repairing the tools.”
”I did them already. All sharpened.”
His frown deepened. “Do you want to take any new books from the library?”
Yor shook her head. “Not particularly.” She glanced at the load of tomes burdening her brother’s arms. “Do you really not want me to help with those?”
He only grinned, straightening his shoulders a little more. “Nonsense. I’m chivalrous, if nothing else.”
”You’re plenty of other things,” she scoffed. “Women ought line up in the square to ask for your hand.”
”Yet they missed the opportunity again and again,” he sighed. “Beyond that, who would care for you were I to wed?”
I’d rather not hold you back, if that’s something you want in life, she spoke silently. Her eyes perused some of the stalls lining the streets. “Try to win some games, perhaps? I’ve got a little change with me. Maybe we’ll double it.”
Now he scoffed at her. “All charlatans. Don’t waste your coin.”
”Then I guess we’re doomed to be bored for another Saturday.” Eventually, their district of town transformed into the central square. Yor made a point of skirting them around the too-large crowd forming at its heart. She eyed the uppermost framework of the structure they gathered around with disdain.
”Such an awful practice,” she murmured, the rope for whichever poor soul they had taken hold of today being thrown over the beam. It was one of the few things she hated about quaint village life. Small towns, unused to visitors and the uncertain that so rarely crossed their paths, often turned to fear and violence before seeking discovery.
Yuri nudged her shoulder with his own when she began to slow. “It’s bad, but don’t look if you don’t like it.”
“Someone ought to stop it one of these days. It’s not right,” she murmured.
“We’re only two people against dozens. We can’t affect its results even if we want to.”
That hardly makes it more palatable. This was where charlatans existed, if any. On rare occasions, she had worked up the nerve to watch a few of the hangings, or at least the start of them, from a distance. Not one victim she had seen appeared capable of the crimes they were being accused of. Those called all-powerful and malevolent practitioners of witchcraft were more often starved and fearful folk, looking pleadingly into a crowd that had no intention of offering their help. Surely if they were magically inclined, they would break themselves free of such an event, would they not?
She was more than ready to look away from this one too, when a fleeting glimpse of familiar blonde passed in front of the densely-packed crowd. She slowed more, brow creasing. It moved again, to the right now. And then quickly, too quickly, it had ascended the stairs, appearing fully with its hands bound by another man and a cloth binding separating its jaw from the rest of its head, preventing any cries for help.
Yor stopped entirely. “Forest man?” she breathed.
”Yor?” her brother looked back in curiosity at her pause, tone turning quickly to panic as she bolted for the gallows. “Yor!”
She was shoving her way between the shoulder-to-shoulder mob, irritated at and mumbling half-apologies to the people that were ready to watch death like it was a carnival spectacle. All the time, her eyes remained locked on him.
The executioner had begun to list off crimes that could not exist. “…found guilty of practices in witchcraft…”
Surely not, not him. She would never have considered him a witch, their conversation gave no such indication. He was aloof, poor of understanding perhaps, but no such witch!
”…workings of devilry and deals made with evil forces. Take your last moments to offer repent, young man. What say you in answer of your crimes?”
His guard removed his gag; she had almost made it to the front of the crowd.
”I am not who you claim I am.” Calm, but his voice rang clearly throughout the square. Cries opposing were shot back at him from those attending.
”I saw him with brews!”
”He dwells among the forest at night!”
”He is not a witch!” Yor yelled back, both to the crowd and those standing on the platform. She took her stand in the open space between them. Her fists balled. “How can you claim these terrible things?”
The man, for his part, showed the first countenance of surprise she had seen on him. “Markswoman?”
”We claim by the evidence we find,” the executioner retorted. A satchel— his satchel —was kicked from the platform to land before her. “Are these not the tools of witchery?”
She examined the contents: varieties of plants, small books, a few metal contraptions. She flipped open the pages of the book. “These only seem like notes, not spells.”
”How are you able to identify a spell?” the man asked with dramatic conviction, pointing.
She wouldn’t have such a baseless question posed at her, or not unfairly. “How are you able to identify the tools of witchery?” she shot back.
He only sneered. “We know enough to condemn. Leave, Briar. Your brother should not have let you wander so far.”
”My apologies, sir!” Yuri gasped, appearing from the crowd with remarkable timing. The books she had expected to hold him back were nowhere to be found. He reached for her elbow, weakly pulling her from the scene. “Come on, Yor, we need to…”
”No.” She shook him and his panic away. She looked back at the platform. “You are no god. What right have you to condemn? Or end lives without a chance at renewal?”
“The heavens work through us—“
”You are not the heavens. You have no power to take a life. What can be done to spare this man today?”
The executioner glared, first at Yuri, then back at her. “Only one such method would prevail. None would dare to take it.”
She tilted her head in wait of his answer.
”Matrimony,” he said her with a sharp grin, nostrils flared. “A soul bound to another may not be taken from another. But no woman would lower herself into the pits of someone connected to evil—“
Yor took a step forward, further out of her brother’s grasp. “I will marry this man.”
Any mutterings among the crowd fell entirely silent now. The blonde man raised his eyebrows at her proposal. His executioner grew more enraged. “You will not—“
”I have said what I have said.” She strode toward the platform’s steps.
Yuri reached feebly for her, watching with a horrified gaze. “Yor, why would you even…”
At the top, she came to stand beside him, meeting his confused stare. The guard stepped back. “This man is to be my husband. You will not take him from me. Call forth a reverend.” The crowd began to whisper once more. She looked between them and the executioner. “Do you not have true representatives of the heavens present when you prepare to snuff out a life?”
”McMahon!” the executioner shouted into the mob at last, face reddening by the second. As the older man approached the steps, he passed closer to her ear. “You are tainted,” he hissed.
”No more than you.”
”No one shall associate with you all your days! Foul woman.”
Reverend McMahon took his place, standing between the man and Yor, leveling a solemn look upon the latter. He eyed the bindings of the man’s wrists before looking to the guard. “I cannot have him taking vows under restraints.”
Wordlessly, he approached with a knife and severed the knot, stepping away again. “Join hands,” the holy man commanded. Yor held out her hands. Her betrothed uncertainly accepted the offer.
”Yor, don’t do this!” Yuri cried from the ground.
”I’ve made my decision, Yuri. Be silent.”
“Have you a name, man?” She turned back, hoping the expectancy might not be so obvious in her face. She wouldn’t be admitting now that she had yet to find this out about him herself.
”Loid.”
”A family name?”
He grew quieter. “I haven’t… got one, actually.”
The reverend paused. “I’ve never officiated the wedding of a man and woman without a family name to join to.”
”Just start,” Yor hurried him on. “We can figure something out.”
The man sighed, before clearing his throat and raising his voice. “We gather today not for the loss of a soul, but the joining of two. The heavens deem it right to—“
”Could we maybe skip the formalities, please?” she asked softly. Standing atop a platform with the shadow of a noose over them hardly lent her good feelings for the start of a marriage. Because that was what was happening now. Marriage. She was to be married. “Just get us to the vows.”
“The heavens give us processes to follow for good reason,” the reverend muttered. “Do any here object to the union of this man and this woman?”
”You don’t even know him!” Yuri shouted.
”He doesn’t count, keep going,” she murmured. Loid, despite himself and the matter, looked quite bemused at her interjections.
”This is a sham! A forgery!”
“With no objections, I now unite these two into one. Yor Briar, will you take Loid… er…”
”Forger,” he said quietly, glancing fleetingly to her brother. She looked at him; he returned it. “Forger will do fine enough as a name.”
”Will you take Loid Forger as your wedded husband, to care for and to love, to value in all states, to cherish, before the heavens, until your parting?”
She swallowed. This was real. “I will.”
”Loid…Forger, will you take Yor Briar as your wedded wife, to protect and to love, to value in all states, to cherish, before the heavens, until your parting?”
”I suppose I will,” he answered softly.
McMahon spoke louder. “With the powers bestowed upon me by the heavens above, I declare this man and this woman to be wed to one another. You may seal this union with a kiss.”
Yor froze. The energy of the whole save-a-man-from-unfair-death matter had clearly blocked from her mind the pivotal point of a wedding.
”I… do we…” she whispered.
”I cannot name this a complete union until the act is performed,” their reverend replied.
Her discomfort had been enough for even Loid to pick up on. Rather than moving for her face, he lifted her left hand up to his own lips, pressing them softly to top of her hand. He turned to the other man. “That will do, I’m sure?”
”I suppose it must.” He led himself and them down from the platform to Yuri’s waiting, vacant stare. Yor, awkwardly stuck between the men, raised a shaking hand to Loid. “…Your new brother?” she presented.
He had nothing to say on the matter, stalking away as the crowd began to disperse with some disappointment. Yor glowered at those that were unlucky enough to pass within her view.
“So…” She turned back to Loid. He looked, she was quite sure, about the same as she probably did right now. “Where does that leave us?”
”Well, we were on our way to return some books to the library about—“ She looked for the square’s clock, “—fifteen minutes before all of this. I suppose we had better continue with that. Oh, look. I think I see where Yuri dropped them over there.” She wondered if her tone masked the shock she was feeling, or simply betraying her and drawing more attention to it.
Once they had gathered his belongings back up, and hers, the day commenced as she had planned for it to earlier that morning, alongside a few more wide-eyed stares from other townsfolk. Loid shuffled through each page carefully as they walked. “Will you be penalized for leaving them in the dirt as they were?”
”It was a recent issue, but yes, I imagine so.”