forthsofar | half a week before the winter, the chill bites before it comes

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half a week before the winter, the chill bites before it comes

A pack of them come by her cage in the corner of the throne room once her captor--their master--has lumbered off in search of other pleasures. Mistress-to-be needs cheering, their leader says, unlocking the door and hauling her out into the rough grasp of two others. Can't send you in like that, though, filthy little bird. She's tried fighting before, gained the bruises and the scratches to prove it; now, she simply lets them drag her off, shaking a little in fear and barely-suppressed misery, hating them for everything they've done to her and Charlie and all the rest of the people she's seen and heard suffer.

Hating herself, too, for being so stupid and giving in so quickly now.

First, they take her to a vacant room somewhere in the labyrinth of the castle, cold stone walls and a hard tile floor. She's stripped and scrubbed, doused in frigid water and manhandled with an unseemly relish, the goblins erupting in a symphony of cackles and hoots every time something they do results in a whimper or shriek. Once clean, they throw a dress at her, clingy and lurid red, the sleeves long enough and back high enough to cover the worst of her bruises. New feathers, birdie, one of them purrs, watching her shiver as she pulls the dress on. Prettier plumage, to make the mistress smile.

Two goblins had brought the cage--her cage, she's ashamed to think of it as now--down to the corridor; they push her back in and lock her up, then carry her through another set of twisting passageways to a warmer part of the castle, stopping in front of a carved wooden door that opens to the lead goblin's knock. Rosie only sees the barest glimpse of the woman inside, dark dress and moonstone-pale hair and a severe expression, but she recognizes her instantly.

"Sabrina!"

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Rosie nods and presses close, as close as she dares despite the lingering ache in her limbs, not minding the slight scratch of the lace on Sabrina's dress against her cheek--or the brief flash of embarrassment at the thought that her own dress is the only thing she happens to be wearing, the only thing the goblins gave her after she'd been stripped and bathed. She's here, safe for the next few hours thanks to her friend's quick thinking and an affection Rosie's not sure what she did to deserve; that matters more.

"Not very badly," she says, her voice hushed to match Sabrina's. "Just bruises--god, that's horrible to say, just." She takes another, shakier breath, feeling sick at how quickly she's begun to see the smaller torments as something positive, before she continues on. "He said they beat him, when he was...when they took him from you. Where they kept us, the cell, it's cold and damp, and I don't think that's helped matters." Rosie clings tighter to her friend then, in something like an apology for her words. "Before they took me away from him, I gave him my coat. It won't fit, but it's warm. It's stupid, really, but I thought...maybe it'd help anyway."

She has to stop and consider her response to the rest of what Sabrina asks. Of course she wants out, as fast as possible, and if there's anyone she trusts to get her free, it's Sabrina and Nick--and Salem too, the cat that's more than a cat (though how much more, she's not yet certain). In this moment, she'd happily listen to all the sniping and squabbling of the other cooped-up residents of the Home and eat any number of horrible scrounged-up meals around the common dinner table if it meant being gone from this place. But there's only one answer she can give; only one that's true.

"We escape together," Rosie says at last, tilting her head up to meet Sabrina's dark-eyed glance with one of her own. "All of us. I told Nick when he found me that I could hold on for a while longer, and now that you've put the fear of...well, the devil's daughter into the goblins if they try hurting me, that's even more likely."

She hopes she's making the right choice. "I'm not leaving any of you behind."

Sabrina smiles, and for all that it's the same pleased and happy smile she might give Rosie any other day, there's a different sort of power and energy in her features. "I don't think I though you would, but I had to offer. I'll do what I can to keep them in line; their master wants something from me, obviously, and they know I have about as much regard for their existence as he does."

She smooths Rosie's hair, the situation and her own, rather isolating game with the Darkness making her more tactile than usual.

That, and she can't touch touch or hold Charlie, her eyes growing wet and bright, her lip trembling a bit as she whispers, "I'm glad you gave him your coat. I'll see if I can get them to bring him. It was-- it was so awful, watching them take him. I've-- I've worried a little, that he might not understand how important he is, since Nick got here. I can't--"

She breaks off, taking a moment to try and compose herself.

"Just be careful, please," she says, closing her eyes at the touch, sinking into the gentleness of it just as she'd sunk into the pressure of Nick's arms around her through the bars of the cage and the soothing, accidental brush of his lips to her hair. "Whatever game he's playing...stay ahead of it if you can."

Rosie opens her eyes again hearing the wobble in her friend's voice. "No, Sabrina," she breathes, pushing herself up the mattress slightly--even that brief motion sparking a low, aching ripple of pain through her bruised limbs and back--before resettling her head on the pillow, facing Sabrina straight on and reaching out to touch her cheek lightly with one hand, just for a moment. "He knows, I'm sure he does. You love him so much, how could he not?"

"He's not the first Lord of Darkness to want to make me his consort," Sabrina says, "though it's less creepy than finding out Lucifer is my father and wanted me as his queen. This is surprisingly less awkward." She manages to sound amused.

"Oh, no, hold still," she tells Rosie. "I--" She can't help it; her eyes well up hot and bright. "I hope so. I would murder every dark creature in this place and bring it down to rubble if it's what has to happen to get him safe." Dark Queens can't cry, so she's blinking hard, leaning into Rosie's touch. "I-- I didn't know it was possible, Rosie, to love two people this much."

"Better the devil you're not related to, I suppose," she murmurs, a little wry even though nothing about it is all that funny.

Rosie curls tighter against Sabrina as she fights against the urge to cry, making gentle, soothing shushing sounds. "You could do it, too, and you will if that's what has to happen," she says. There's so much power in her friend, despite the anguish of its source; when combined with her deep and abiding love, Rosie thinks there's very little Sabrina couldn't do.

"It isn't anything I was familiar with either, back home," she admits. "Loving two people, or having it be something...something good, at least. But it is, in your case. It's such a wonderful thing."

Sabrina clings to Rosie, letting her eyes close. "I can do it," she says, "or mostly. With help, I can, and I'm sure there's plenty of help. And help to keep me from going too far. I nearly lost myself over witches I didn't know well; if it's any of you..."

She lets her eyes open again, and something in her relaxes to hear Rosie name it as such. "It's common enough for witches, though usually more about sex," she murmurs. "Because of course, real love, how do you serve the way we're supposed to serve when you love someone? Lucifer doesn't know love, just that it could threaten his hold on us." She shakes her head. "I wasn't sure. I mean, I knew what I wanted, but I would never have hurt Charlie to get it. Except it turns out that he loves me enough to let me be the happiest I can be. And Nick, Nick went to hell for me. All I can do is hope to honor their choices and make them happy too."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't want any divided affections, would he?" she says. "Given what you've said about everything he'd put you through--put Nick through, even--that makes sense."

Rosie manages only a faint blush at the mention of sex, one that makes her feel a little ridiculous. It can't be helped, any more than she can help the accompanying thought--fleeting and equally ridiculous--of some of the lazy afternoons she'd spent with David, the sense of an approaching decision she hadn't yet had the courage to meet. At least there was love there, too, between the two of them.

"I think you make them happy," she says then, her hand moving in a slow circle against Sabrina's back. "They wouldn't have chosen the things they did, here or back home, if that wasn't true. If they didn't both love you." Rosie laughs a little, a soft huff of breath. "David's wonderful, and everything between us is so new anyway, but...I don't know that he'd go to hell for me. That's something else. Something deeper."

"It's one of the things that still makes me angriest," she says quietly. "Growing up, it was all about how the False God took away freedom from people, and the Dark Lord would give you back that power, except you weren't free at all. Once you signed the book, he'd test you, and if you didn't do what he wanted, he-- I fought him on it, and in the end, to keep Salem alive, I was in the process of burning down my school. He stopped me, I don't think he wanted do deal with the fallout it would cause me. Now that I know how... invested he was."

Her own hand ends up in Rosie's hair, carefully coming through the dark locks. "David might get to go to hell for you if he doesn't treat you well enough," she promises idly. "Hey, have you seen many people down there who are... regular Darrow people? Not like us?"

"You're probably right. It's horrible." Rosie despises that Dark Lord for all he'd done to Sabrina, her friends and family and now Salem too. Detests this one too, with his goblins and grim stone castle, the pervading aura of fear and pain that he'd wrought on everyone who'd fallen beneath his sway. She'd never expected to have one devil to hate, one that's more than just a metaphor or a character in a Sunday sermon; now, she simply wonders how many more she'll have to confront before her stay in this strange, absurd city is over. "Being compelled to do...anything, at all, that's not freedom. No matter who's asking it of you."

The brush of Sabrina's fingers in her hair, the light pull as she cards her hand through her curls, eases a little more of her remaining tension and concern. Enough that she lets the idle, half-joking--she thinks--threat pass with little more than a faint roll of her eyes and a lopsided, fond smile. "A few, I think?" she says. "But nobody I recognized, none of my Darrow friends from school or people whose pets I've taken care of. Most of the people I saw in the dungeons were people from elsewhere, like us."

Sabrina has spent the past couple of days in this desperately horny-looking, gothic bedchamber pretending to consider some unseen Lord of Darkness's attempts to court her, so of course she's not joking. But she doesn't point this out.

"Makes sense," she murmurs, still stroking Rosie's hair. "Nick and I were thinking that maybe it has to do with some kind of-- light, or purity. They weren't interested in either of us until we showed up here, and we both are technically in some kind of contract with the Path of Night back home. And it's what I am, who I am, that makes him want me."

She lets her eyes close at the continued touch to her hair, the slow motion of Sabrina's fingers running along her scalp. "That could be," she says. "When they captured me, when I was out on the street with Nick, they almost seemed...amused he was trying to save me at all. It was like he didn't matter, except as something to get through. To get to me."

Rosie shivers again, remembering the high, hysterical sound of the goblins' laughter, the way they'd chanted A chase! A chase! as they swarmed towards her and Nick. She moves closer to Sabrina, taking what comfort she can in her friend's embrace and the plush, warm bed they're both lying in.

"I don't know how much I have to do with light. Purity, maybe, but..." She trails off, blushing faintly. "It all sounds a bit like when I was mistaken for a fairy, back in Anterwold, though how these things would know anything about that, I haven't the slightest idea."

"That's how it was with Charlie, when it happened. After I set the first one on fire, they paid attention to me as a threat, but..." She shrugs a little, not wanting to think back to it, the pain throbbing in her hand, and how truly frantic they'd both been as they were torn apart.

"Maybe it's only evident to those of us who enough enough of the Night in us, then," Sabrina murmurs. "You and Charlie both have a light. It's in the goodness of your hearts, and I don't mean purity like that, because I can assure you that Charlie has a very inventive streak--" She laughs despite herself. "Sorry. No, it's hard to define. A purity of spirit. Untouched by darkness."

Her blush deepens, but Rosie laughs too, the sound and the conversation almost seeming normal despite their surroundings and the situation both of them have wound up in for the time being. "That isn't information I ever really needed to know about Charlie," she says, teasing and fond and a little embarrassed, "but...good for you both, I suppose."

The rest of it, the idea of some inherent goodness shining from within her, almost sounds too fanciful to be wholly believable. Had it been suggested to her back home, before all that had happened with the strange doorway in the Professor's cellar, Rosie might have discounted it completely. Now, she's far less certain--or perhaps just more willing to see the idea through to whatever end awaits her.

She can only hope it's a good one, this time.

"And they're trying to stamp it out," she murmurs. The idea turns her stomach despite the safe embrace of Sabrina's arms and the remembered echo of Nick's promise when he'd found her in the throne room: We'll get you out. We're not leaving you here. "To stamp us out."

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half a week before the winter, the chill bites before it comes

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