Young Writers Society

Briar helped his sister pull the tight-fitting wool dress over her swollen stomach. His fingers accidentally stroked the smooth skin, and instantly he was overwhelmed by his recollection of that night so many weeks ago. Squeezing his eyes shut, he refused to relive that past, and he buried the memories deep beneath the present concerns he felt for him and his sister. He started to pull his hand away but Lylie grabbed his wrist. Briar lowered his head, ashamed at himself for reacting so strongly at the simple touch of a stomach. The light stroke of his sister’s fingers on his chin startled him, and as she guided his face upwards, he had no choice but to look her into her eyes. He saw his mother in them. Lylie had the same innocent shine in her eye that their mother always had.

“Briar, it is all right. Dost not humble thyself to me,” she whispered, her thin lips curling into a grief filled smile.

He watched her, amazed that despite everything she had been through, she could still manage to smile. The stone floor had grown colder in the couple hours they had been sleeping. The early morning sun had risen, and with every moment that passed more hazy sunlight drifted into the room through the window. Briar could feel his toes warming up, no longer frozen as they had been hours earlier when he had awoken.

Untangling himself from his sisters grasp, Briar turned back to the table and finished folding Lylie's clothes. Then he placed them atop his inside the knapsack that he carried, while he and his sister travelled. Briar could still see the fire ravaging their country mansion. He could still conjure up the image of his parents telling him to hide in the hole behind the washtub. He could still smell the blood, the stench of burning flesh.

Briar curled his fists against the table until they became ghostly white. The memories again bombarded him, and he could only sit and wait until they passed. The anger he felt from what happened channeled through his arms until he had to lift his hands and punch the table. The skin on his knuckles cracked open and began to bleed, but he paid no heed to it. He felt Lylie's hand on his shoulder and he swatted it away, wrapping his hand around the first thing he felt- the stool at the oak desk. Lifting it, he let all of his rage occupy his mind and his muscles and he could not stop as he slammed it upon the ground. The wood shattered and flew everywhere as Briar felt tears threatening to escape his eyes. He felt so weak when he turned to his sister.

Lylie stood against the wall, fear and anguish for her brother crossing over her face. Hand covering her mouth, she rushed to him before his knees gave out. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him close. Briar squeezed her, never wanting to let her go. He let himself cry into her dress, quiet weeping that wracked his body. He could feel her nimble fingers stroking his hair, her breath on his neck. She comforted him, just as their mother used to comfort him when he was sad or angry.

“I am so sorry, Lylie. Thou dost not deserve this,” he whispered.

“Nobody deserves what we have been through, brother. Dost thy understand?” she whispered back to him, no tears showing in her eyes.

“Yes. Let us tarry no longer,” Briar said, standing tall and once again placing the heavy mask of responsibility upon his face. “They still search for us. We must make haste, Sister.”

“I can feel it moving.”

“What dost ye feel?” Briar was taken by confusion.

Reaching out, she pulled Briars palm towards her stomach. He hesitated, then allowed her to place his fingers upon her dress. A sharp pang of emotion hit him in the gut as he felt the thing move inside of his sister. It reminded him of the men that had dragged her away from him. That had not kept to themselves, but instead to her, his beloved sister. His beloved Lylie. Every move of the thing hinted at a brutal power restrained, as if those men hardened by war had stuffed their very souls inside of her stomach. Briar hoped they felt guilt for what they did. He hoped they would die for it.

Removing his hand, he took up the knapsack and led his sister out of the tavern room they had rented for the night. Making their way down the stairs, Briar held his sister close, protecting her from the drunken men in the room downstairs. It stank of beer and Briar almost gagged from the uncleanliness of the tavern. The floor was stained red and the din of laughing men and prostitutes seemed to mock his ears. Briar and Lylie had grown up in a world of safety, of wealth and preservation of innocence and youth. The opposite of what the men and women here had grown up with.

Briar walked up to the bar and waved the bartender over. A hulky man with a bright orange beard and tattered clothes, he looked Briar up and down, as well as his sister, and regarded them with suspicion.

“Thee sleep well?” he besought.

“Aye. Five copper pieces for one nights stay, correct?” Briar wondered loudly over the noise in the room.

“Nary, thee keep thy copper. I dost not wish for thine money,” he answered in a gruff baritone voice.

“I shalt pay my price. I refuse to leave before I do,” Briar argued.

“Leave my tavern, boy. And bring thine whore with thee,” he raised his voice at Briar.

“I beg thine pardon! She is no whore,” Briar spat at the bartender, holding his sister closer.

“Thee durst to defend her?” he raised his eyebrows in questioning. Gesturing at her large rounded stomach he laughed loudly, drying a tall glass with a dish rag. “She is with child, cannot thee see? Dost not tarry, boy. Get out or I will throw you out myself.”

Briar felt himself filling with rage, yet he hid it and led his sister outside of the tavern into the cold spring air. The village was alive, with carts bouncing along the cobblestones, and children playing in the streets. Women stood beside their homes, washing their clothes with a washtub and a bar of lavender soap. Cats prowled the roofs in search of pigeons and birds to eat. The thatched roofs of the houses seemed unstable in the strong morning wind. The brisk air caused Lylie to shiver, and Briar pulled her closer. Removing the cloak from his back, he fixed it around her neck to she could stay warm. It had belonged to their father, later passed down to Briar before he was murdered that fateful night.

They set out across the street and towards the center of the small town.

“I cannot help but notice how happy they seem,” Lylie said, a smile lighting up her face as she watched the children playing. “Remember how we used to play, just like them, Brother? In the courtyard of the manor on those mild summer days. Oh, the memories.”

“Those memories are too painful. They just remind me of Mother and Father,” Briar replied, watching the road before them and leading them towards the woods.

“Why must thee be like that?”

“Like what?”

“People change, brother, but our memories shall not. Embrace that and remember the good moments we had as children. Just because our parents are gone, it does not mean we must fall stoic and numb to the world,” Lylie pressed on, stating the truth that Briar was afraid to admit.

Somehow, she always knew what to say to make him feel more alive and less depressed. At the turn of a corner, they came upon a fairly large mob of angry townspeople. Briar and Lylie were at once surrounded, being thrown questions and such.

“Why could thine parents not see our suffering?”, “It's their fault we have no food and no blankets for our children!”, “Oppressors!”, “Just children, ha! They should pay for their parents mistakes!”, “Look at the pregnant girl!”, “Whore!”, “Prostitute!”.

They began to pull at Lylie's cloak and grab at her hair. Briar slapped hands to keep them off of her as they tried to fish their way through the mob. The screaming and yelling was attracting more and more villagers and Briar realized they had to get away. He could see murder shining brilliantly in their eyes.

Taking Lylie's hand, he shoved his way out of the mob and ran towards the forest. The people chased after them, throwing tomatoes and strawberries and cabbages at Briar and Lylie's faces. Tomato juice exploded on Lylie's face and she stumbled forwards, surprised by the attack. He helped her gain her momentum once more and as they rushed past the first layer of trees, the villagers slowly departed. Briar and Lylie did not stop until they were surrounded by trees, dark ominous figures that somehow felt safer than the more open areas with villages.

Choosing a tall tree beside which ran a stream, Briar helped Lylie sit. He soaked his shirt in the water and returned to wash his sisters face. He gingerly placed the cloth on her cheek and wiped all of the tomato juice away. When she was clean, Briar realized with a start that she was silently crying. Dropping the cloth, he pulled her in for a hug. For a moment, they lost track of time. It was as if the entire forest was revolving around them. Only them.

Briar looked at his sisters face after a little bit and wiped her tears away. He felt a tugging in his heart, one that he had never felt before. With the beauty of her charcoal hair combined with the sad radiance of her puffy eyes, it made him feel content. She calmed his heart and soothed his thoughts, for now he knew that he was not the only one who was torn apart by that experience. He was not the only one hurt, that missed his parents and wished they could be here to comfort him as well. The feeling he felt now was different, not love for a sister, but instead, love for a woman. Not the blood that they shared, but instead the horrible experience that had left a terrible mark on both of them. And he wondered to himself if Lylie felt the same way.

Pulling his head close, Lylie pressed her trembling lips against his. Everything fell into place for both of them. Nothing mattered, except them and the memories of their childhood together. Briar wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her back passionately. This was the one thing that Briar had needed, the one thing that had been in front of him his entire life. From the time she was born, to the night she was raped and their parents were murdered, to this kiss, when everything else just melted away. Where something became nothing and they, brother and sister, morphed into something more. Lovers instead of siblings, connected to each other in a completely and totally different way than before.

For one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

A strange sound caused Briar to pull away. By the time he realized what it was, he hardly had time to push Lylie against the tree and hide her. Five knights on horses rode by, clearly searching for Briar and Lylie. He caught only a glimpse of their shining silver armor and the banners upon their war horses saddles. As well as the emblem on their shoulders that illustrated that they rode for his Father's rival, the House of York. The House of York had defeated the House of Lancaster several months before, at the Battle of Tewkesbury. Shortly after, the York soldiers had come to Briar and Lylie's manor, killing their parents for being Lancaster nobles and raping Lylie for their own pleasure.

For several seconds, they held their breath, listening to the forest and all it had to offer. When the sound of horse hooves galloped into the distance, Briar released Lylie from the tree trunk. A new passion shone in her eyes, and Briar noticed that the innocence he was so used to seeing had disappeared from her pupils. She was no longer his fragile sister, but now his fragile lover, where even one touch of her stomach could shatter the feelings they now harbored towards each other. Briar stood and held out his palm to her, helping her to her feet. She stumbled forwards a step from the mass of her belly and Briar took hold of her to keep her from falling. He took the cloak and once more attached it around her neck.

“Briar, I am fine. Stop worrying about me and keep thineself warm for once,” Lylie removed the cloak from her back and wrapped it around Briars. When he began to remove it in protest, Lylie shook her head and tied it tighter around his neck. “Nay, Briar, leave it. Henceforth it shall stay on thine neck.”

“Lylie, thee are carrying a child. Thee must stay warmer than I.”

“Let us not tarry longer,” Lylie ignored him as she began to walk away towards the path.

Briar watched her for a moment, amazed by her independence and stubbornness. Hurrying after her, he noticed she seemed more pale than that morning. Lightly touching her shoulder, Briar walked beside her as he spoke.

“Thee are pale, Lylie. What is wrong?” he asked with concern layering his words.

“I am fine, Briar. I beg thee, dost not worry,” she answered sure of herself.

They fell into a quiet trance, where their footsteps echoed in their ears and through the trees. Far in the distance, they could hear a river running fast. Birds were hidden in the branches above, their eerie melodies of love found within grief floating into Briar and Lylie's ears. It seemed as if the forest was singing to them, calling out their names into the light Spring breeze. Lylie's black locks danced with the wind and Briar felt renewed by its simple hush of silence. He felt as if the world just did not matter anymore. Only his sister mattered. Only the thing inside of her.

A scream shattered his thoughts.

Briar stopped short when he realized Lylie was leaning over with her hand on her stomach. A spark went off in Briars head that said: The thing is ready to come out. He jumped into action, though he knew not what to do. Helping her to her feet, he led her to a tree off the path, just like before. She lay with her head propped up and her legs spread apart. Every couple minutes her face would contort in pain from the contractions. That was the extent of Briars knowledge. This went on for a long time, and Briar tried to soothe Lylie. He held her hand and stroked her sweat lined forehead. He found the voice inside him and sang to her, songs they used to hear as children, in the tall cathedral near their manor.

“Briar,” she gasped, eyes large and palms slippery.

He saw in her eyes that it was time. His concern for her grew by the second until it came bursting from his chest in heaves and q quickened heartbeat. Positioning himself before her private area, he folded back her skirt and braced himself for what would come next.

“Guide the body out slowly and carefully. Clear the mouth and sever the cord, understand Briar?” Lylie ordered in a voice near to a whisper.

Briar nodded and held his hands near to where the thing would come out.

“Lylie, push,” he told her, as he had heard the doctor say when his mother birthed Lylie.

He was taken aback when Lylie pushed with all the strength she had. She was a strong sister, he realized in that moment. He should have let her take care of herself all those months after the attack. Her screams filled his ears and hurt them, splitting them open with the pain he could hear lathered into the noise. By the time Briar saw the first sign of a baby's head, Lylie's screams had grown weaker and weaker. Looking back and forth at the baby and his sister, he kept telling her to push. When he felt the slick layer of bodily fluids in his hands, he took the tiny body as it left his sisters stomach. A second scream was added to Lylie's. One much more high pitched and wailing. Briar laughed, holding it up to show to Lylie that it was a baby boy.

His heart stopped cold. The cradled in his arm and still screaming, he tapped Lylie on the leg. She did not respond.

“Lylie?” he whispered.

He again tapped her leg, this time harder. Looking into her eyes, all he could see was a pool of happiness, with the pain hidden behind it. Something was wrong about them, though. Such as the fact that her eyelids did not blink, and there was a strange nothingness floating in her pupils. Briar could no longer hear even the slightest of breaths.

“Lylie?” he asked louder, afraid to accept the truth he already knew in his heart. His sister was gone. His sister was dead.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he shook Lylie as hard as he could and still she did not wake. The baby's crying seemed a world away compared to the pain he felt heaving in his chest. He scooted to Lylie's side and leaned down to kiss her on her lips. Still warm, he thought maybe true loves kiss would wake her, but no matter how hard or how passionately he kissed her, she did not breath. Rocking back and forth on his heels, his tears spilled onto the dirty ground that was covered with dead leaves. The forest that had once seemed so alive was dead now, just like Lylie. The birds were silent and the river ceased running,. The wind was gone and the air had grown stale.

The child's crying caused Briar to raise his eyes at it. Through the blurry picture of the baby in his arms, he knew what had killed Lylie. This...thing had caused it. It was those men's fault, the ones who put this damned thing in his sister.

Laying the baby boy on the ground, his hand searched for something, anything that was sharp or pointed. Fingers closing around a large stone, he lifted it and kissed the surface.

“For thee, Lylie. I dost this in thine name,” he whispered as he lifted the stone above the weeping child. His hand raced downwards towards its head as Briar opened his eyes and noticed the baby's eyes had opened as well. The stone stopped short and fell from his hand. Briar felt more tears fall from his eyes as he watched the child look around at the forest surrounding him. Falling backwards to the ground, Briar saw Lylie's ice blue pupils inside of the child's eyes. Her innocence shone in them, and Briar could do nothing but cry.

He knew he had to keep the child, because it was the only connection to his sister that still lived in this world. A tugging pulled at his heart, a tugging from his sister to care for the child as he would one of his own. He took up the rock again and sliced the cord that reached from the baby into his sister. The blood on his hands made him wince, knowing that it belonged to his dead sister. He reached over and gingerly shut her eyelids so that she could sleep in peace.

Standing with the child in his arms, he wrapped a piece of cloth around him to keep him warm. After he kissed his sister one last time, on her cold lips, he placed the cloak on her and walked towards the path. When the breeze began again, Briar knew his sister was there with him, right there by his side. On the wind he heard a name echoing over and over and over to him.

“Langsley...perfect choice, my dear sister,” Briar whispered, for it was the very name of their deceased Father.