"Helga's Sorrow" for velvetmouse
Title: Helga’s Sorrow
Gift for: velvetmouse
Author: firstyearagain
Characters: Helga and Salazar
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Genre: Friendship
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Helga and Salazar may disagree on how to teach and how to let that knowledge be taken back to the world with them, but when Helga learns to trust, they find a friendship otherwise missed.
Helga’s Sorrow
Helga rose up on her knees and pressed her hands to the small of her back, stretching her aching muscles. She looked to the tops of the mountains to the west and knew it was time to quit. Night came slowly here, often finding her at work longer than she should have been. The warm spring days, lengthening and smelling of the North Sea that met the valley at the far end, would soon give way to the silence of the summer when the children would leave for home to help in the fields and to take the herds to higher meadows.
This was her favourite part of the day, the time between dinner and bedtime. The time all but her students were confined to their quarters until the next day started, regulated into making copies of sacred parchments that they would later learn how to bind into books. She looked down the sloping lawns and saw those she was responsible for still enjoying the last of the sun and felt a touch of sadness in her being so long removed from the time of dangling legs in warm water and shyly flirting. She stood up slowly, brushed off her skirt, and rubbed her hands to remove the last of the dirt before she turned back to the castle.
She had found it lonely when she had first arrived in this magical valley, and had spent many nights walking alone by the shore of the lake, bemoaning what she had left behind and crying for what she did not know lay ahead of her. Now, she was at peace and thought that some day she would return to the north and find her people, scattered and living among the non-magical men, attempting to fit in and not drawing attention to their way of life.
She had become determined that her students would never have their lives wrested away from them, as her life had been wrested from her, and had taught them everything twice. Once using non-magical means and then using the magical way, showing them how to pass their hand, or lift a wand, singing the old spells and incantations to accomplish the same task. She was at odds with the others, not allowing her students to commit their lessons to parchment.
“Never put it onto parchment,” she ripped the sheet from the small red headed girl the first day she gave lessons. “Anything you write down can be found, and used against you!”
“The others allow…”
“The others have not had their villages ripped from them, or seen witches thrown in…”
“Helga!” Salazar stood in the doorway scowling at her. “Your students may use this time to practice whilst we talk.”
She picked up her basket and walked back to the castle, dropping her gardening tools on the bench set just inside the door for her. Sitting down she bent over and removed her shoes, slipping her feet into cloth slippers.
“Rowena has found a way to make sheets of glass that are almost clear and free of flaws,” Salazar walked toward her smiling widely. “You will soon have your starting box for cuttings.”
“When you pick up supplies this winter, make sure you remember seed. I think to use it to extend the growing season as well,” she said flatly.
“Make a list of what you want,” he said looking at her strangely. “I had expected you to be pleased.”
“I am pleased. I am … tired is all.”
“Your students should be helping you and not playing games at the lake,” he said gruffly.
“I’ll not start this again.” She frowned at him. “My students will not lose their entire childhood. They need time to act like children.”
“They need to learn their lessons.”
“They need to learn how to live if the lessons are to… Salazar, I said I would not get into this again.” She turned on her heel and walked away from him, the soles of her slippers making soft patting noises on the floor.
.
“Helga? Get your nose out of that book. You need to come, the dancing is starting.”
She looked up to see Petru, holding his hand out to her. Laughing, she pushed the tome to the middle of the table and grasped his hand as he pulled her up to give her a firm kiss on the lips. Together they went to the square to join the festivities. It was the time of the Hunter’s Moon, the last harvest of the season, and the last feast of the year. It was the first time they would let themselves be seen as a young couple in love.
.
“We will finish this conversation,” he called after her.
“I hear that these wall’s have ears, talk to them,” she laughed over her shoulder.
He chuckled and hurried after her, matching his easy strides to her hurried steps. “Witch, slow down before you fall. I came to raid your stores. We are brewing tomorrow and need ingredients.”
“I see,” she stopped walking and waited until he stopped and turned to face her. “So you just decided to use this opportunity to berate me on my teaching habits.”
“I made the suggestion that since you do not see fit to commit to parchment, perhaps additional repetition is in order and frolicking at the shores is a waste of time.”
“We had an agreement when we started this. In no part of that agreement is it said I am responsible for supplying your students with what they need. Perhaps if you allowed your students to study with mine they would be able to grow their own.”
“And perhaps if your students learned to brew they would not need my potions. However, for that to work, you would have to allow them quills, and since they write nothing down, they will never be as good as the rest.”
“They are already as good as the rest. As good as the non-magical men they must learn to live with.”
“So we are back to this,” he sighed.
“Yes, and we will keep coming back to this until we can agree on it.”
“I hope you plan on being here a long while, witch,” he smirked at her.
“As long as it takes,” she smirked back, putting her hands on her hips and matching his stance.
He reached out and put two fingers under her chin. “If you were from my clan I would marry you witch.”
“If you were from mine I would prefer to die the same old maid I am quick becoming,” she chuckled seeing his smile.
.
No one saw the first of the soldiers that rushed into the village. No one saw the black cloaked man that searched for evidence and found the open book. No one save Helga had recognized it, as it he held it aloft as proof against the dwelling’s owner, and no one stopped Petru, who put himself between her and the blade.
.
“I can understand her viewpoint,” Rowena sat at the kitchen table leaning forward, resting on both her arms. “Most of these students will return to homes that have never owned a book. How do they explain the sudden wealth?”
“You, who have the most to put down, agree with her?” Godric slid onto the bench opposite her.
“I did not say I agreed with her, only that I understand.”
“Then find a transformation spell to hide them,” Salazar said.
“When the magic weakens, and instead of a pot there is a book hanging on the hook, do you not think someone would notice?”
“I would not be adverse to my students learning some of her ways. They have need of the knowledge of which herbs and plants can be found easily for healing.” Godric shrugged.
“You are much like her, my friend,” Salazar scowled. “Teaching how to use a sword instead of the wand.”
“We have need of it, and will have even more use in the coming years. There are times ahead when we must stand with the non-magical men and protect our lands.”
“I’ll not ask my people to fight for others,” Salazar spat. “We are not welcomed in their land, they are not, and never shall be, welcomed in mine.”
“Salazar, Helga has a point. You go amongst them to purchase supplies and to collect students. You even stay at their inns as you travel. What will your students do?”
Helga crossed the Great Hall and pulled the door open to the kitchens below. Hearing their voices once again loud in argument, she quietly shut the door and leaned her forehead against the rough-hewn wood. Not tonight, she thought and turned back the way she had come, not willing to argue once again.
She often walked at night and studied the sky, taking solace in the predictable and always constant rhythm of the universe. She looked to Cassiopeia and closed her eyes, clearing her mind, hearing Petru’s voice as he had explained the old myths and legends of the ancient and vain Queen.
It was only at times such as this that she could still hear his voice, still think she could smell him on the musty scent of moss that covered the rocks at her feet. His face had faded, and although she knew she could describe him as he had looked when she had first seen him, and how he had looked when she buried him, she could no longer see his face.
“You need to tell them.” Godric stood behind her, gazing up, following her eyes.
“And you need to stay out of it.” She spun around angrily. “Don’t sneak up on me. You are lucky I didn’t have my wand.”
“You are lucky you didn’t have your wand,” he said flatly. “How much longer are you going to try to keep up this façade?”
“Stop,” she whispered and started to walk away when he grabbed her elbow and yanked her back.
“He needs to know the truth of why you are here.”
.
She ran forward and fell on him, turning her face up to the soldier, reaching up her hand and pleading that he be shown mercy. She saw the face above look down on her with distaste and order his men to pull her away while he finished what he had started.
Hands pulled at her, words whispered urgently in her ear. She closed her eyes and screamed as Petru’s life flowed out onto the hard packed soil and lay in a pool, refused by even the dusty earth. She felt a hand clamp on her mouth and another still her hand from sweeping over him as blackness took her, hiding him forever from her sight.
.
“He knows the truth. I told him I have lived among non-magical men, and find the need to teach others to do the same. It’s all he needs to hear.”
“Have you said that for so long that you believe your own lies?”
“It is not a lie.” She pulled against him, her voice beginning to tremble.
“A lie that lays in its omission.”
“An unimportant fact,” she spat at him.
“You lie by not saying his name. You defile his memory by not speaking of his bravery.”
“I save his soul by not uttering his name aloud,” she cried, feeling tears on her face. “Our beliefs are old, older then the clans of this infernal island. I will not give him away! I will not have his soul cast back to earth.”
“Give me your permission to say what I saw.”
“No, you gave me your word as a wizard that you would leave me to my ways and not speak of it. I will not release you from that oath,” she put her fingers over his lips and looked at him in tears. “Please, don’t speak of him. It is wrong to even have this conversation.”
Godric stepped back, bowed to her, and sweeping his arm behind him, to formally end the discussion, returned to the castle with a flourish of robes.
.
She woke as if in a dream. A warm fire lay in front of her, the ground hard under her. She winced at the soreness in her hip as she rolled from her side to her back. Sitting up, she put a hand to her head and wondered how she had come to be there.
“Names Godric,” a man on the other side of the fire spoke to her. “I took the liberty of getting you out of the village. I don’t suggest you go back.”
“Pe… the one …” She looked around for others, not knowing who or what this man was.
“Dead. As will you be if they catch you. Fancy my surprise to find a witch among the men.”
She blanched, and struggled to stand as he jumped from his place by the fire and stopped her.
“Don’t fear,” he said softly, raising his hand to the fire and sending the flames higher. “We share a secret.”
.
Helga was confused the morning she walked into the Great Hall and saw a dais set up in the front of the room, holding a table and several high backed chairs. Finding the short bench gone from the head of her table, she looked down the row to see the other head benches gone as well. Salazar, she thought, frowning and wondering at the cost of such frivolity.
She stomped to the door and opened it, slamming the door against the wall and thundering down the stairs to the kitchen.
“I think she noticed,” Godric laughed, leaning back on the kitchen’s table bench, putting his back to the wall.
“I think she did,” Salazar said flatly, as if she was not in the room. “Do you think she will complain to yourself or Rowena first?”
“You may control the Great Hall,” Helga stepped in front of Salazar and shook her finger in his face, “but this is my kitchen and if you want to play games up there I will play my own down here.”
Salazar felt his lip twitch and swallowed down his smile. “Whatever do you mean Helga?”
“If you want to sit apart from your students then far be it from me to dissuade you. You will however, eat what I put on my table, since it appears we will be supping together, and not complain. Are we clear?”
“I would not dream of interfering with your kitchen.” He lifted his eyebrow and studied her face.
“Furthermore,” she went on, turning to Godric. “You can have Rowena find a way to get the food from here to the room above because starting tomorrow all clans will take meals at the same time.”
“They will do no…” Salazar started.
“What? You are to sit in front of your own students at meal times like a prince in his court? No, I don’t think so.”
“She has a point,” Godric chuckled. “We should have done this earlier. Mine eat last and it is much too late for the little ones. They fall asleep at the tables.”
Salazar looked at Godric and nodded to the door.
“I will run up and see what is taking Rowena,” Godric muttered without looking at Helga, all but fleeing the room at Salazar’s signal.
“I don’t mind,” she sighed turning to the fireplace and lifting out a pot, stirring the contents, and putting it back on the hearth to keep warm. “We should have been doing this from the beginning. They need to spend more time together. It is good to learn other ways.”
He stood behind her and carefully turned her around, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulling her close as he put three fingers from his free hand to her temple, and then lowered his forehead to hers, and gently slipped into her mind.
His mind told her to give up her fear, that he would keep it safe, not to pull away, and that he would protect her. He told her that the seeing was not the same as naming. Let it go, he spoke to her wordlessly as he sorted through her memories. Show it to me, he hissed.
Helga heard the rushing of wings, as if a storm was building in her veins. She fought him, and felt him crush her against him, unrelenting and pushing aside memories she had long forgotten. She saw his face and released her mind, felt herself fly with Salazar, felt Petru’s arms and smelled his musky scent. She tipped her chin up, needing Salazar to find his face and give it back to her. To hold him for her, to let her always know where she could find him again.
She slumped, closed her eyes and felt awash in Salazar’s arms, clinging to him, not wanting him to leave her. Needing to see Petru again.
“Helga.” He sat on the floor holding her, lifted her chin and chastely placed a kiss on her mouth, after breaking the connection. “He was non-magical, yet gave his life for you. We should remember him in song and sing his praises at Oidhche Shamhna.”
She shook her head, lifted her hand and pressed it against his lips, her eyes pleading with him not to say aloud what he was thinking. He sighed and pushed her head to his shoulder, continuing to hold her until he could no longer feel her sobs.
“I do not understand your thinking,” he said into her hair. “You, more then the others, know what can happen yet you think we can live beside them.”
“Others do and keep their ways.”
“And are cast out whenever a reason is needed to blame bad times on. Have you forgotten your history of the Jews? Do you forget that in each country they flee to, they are welcomed until men of false power need to place blame for their own bad decisions? Do you not see that we are next? That it has already begun?”
“They will find their place as will we. Iberia allows them peace now. You will see, soon we will be allowed ours.”
“Ask families that fled there under Raccared or the lines that survived Sisebut. If they could do such things to men who worship their own god, think what they will do to my people.”
“Our people.”
“No, your people belong to a place. A place you still call home, your village. My people I carry in my veins.”
Helga sat up and looked at him strangely. “We are all the same people, Salazar. It is the magic that binds us and makes us as one.”
He placed three fingers on her forehead and brought Petru’s face forward. “Where does he belong? Here or there? In my veins or in your village?”
“That’s unfair,” she angrily pushed against him and struggled to her feet, him standing as well.
“There is no fairness in this world, only the fairness you make of what you have.”
“He was of my village. We were …” she covered her mouth and looked at him tearfully.
“Let him come here. Bring his name to Oidhche Shamhna and give him to our gods.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Sing his name in praise and let him be with you.”
“He is non-magical,” she breathed.
Salazar chuckled, “I think he is past the time he can do us harm.”
She threw her arms around his neck and nodded into his shoulder.
“Helga,” he said, pulling her arms down. “Rowena will find a way to hide the tomes and scrolls. You must allow your students to use them.”
She smiled and ran her sleeve under her nose. “And you will listen to Godric when the new students come.”
“That is different,” he sneered stepping back from her.
“A wise man once told me, ‘There is no fairness in this world, only the fairness you make of what you have.’ With that in mind it would be only be fair to use what we have to it’s best advantage, and if that means taking other then your clan to teach, far be it from me to go against the teaching of such a smart wizard.”
“You are twisting my words witch!”
“You twisted them yourself.” She smirked and put her hands on her hips.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” he tried to snarl at her, only to hear her laugh as she walked away.
“As long as it takes, Salazar,” she called back over her shoulder. “As long as it takes.”
Gift for: velvetmouse
Author: firstyearagain
Characters: Helga and Salazar
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Genre: Friendship
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Helga and Salazar may disagree on how to teach and how to let that knowledge be taken back to the world with them, but when Helga learns to trust, they find a friendship otherwise missed.
Helga’s Sorrow
Helga rose up on her knees and pressed her hands to the small of her back, stretching her aching muscles. She looked to the tops of the mountains to the west and knew it was time to quit. Night came slowly here, often finding her at work longer than she should have been. The warm spring days, lengthening and smelling of the North Sea that met the valley at the far end, would soon give way to the silence of the summer when the children would leave for home to help in the fields and to take the herds to higher meadows.
This was her favourite part of the day, the time between dinner and bedtime. The time all but her students were confined to their quarters until the next day started, regulated into making copies of sacred parchments that they would later learn how to bind into books. She looked down the sloping lawns and saw those she was responsible for still enjoying the last of the sun and felt a touch of sadness in her being so long removed from the time of dangling legs in warm water and shyly flirting. She stood up slowly, brushed off her skirt, and rubbed her hands to remove the last of the dirt before she turned back to the castle.
She had found it lonely when she had first arrived in this magical valley, and had spent many nights walking alone by the shore of the lake, bemoaning what she had left behind and crying for what she did not know lay ahead of her. Now, she was at peace and thought that some day she would return to the north and find her people, scattered and living among the non-magical men, attempting to fit in and not drawing attention to their way of life.
She had become determined that her students would never have their lives wrested away from them, as her life had been wrested from her, and had taught them everything twice. Once using non-magical means and then using the magical way, showing them how to pass their hand, or lift a wand, singing the old spells and incantations to accomplish the same task. She was at odds with the others, not allowing her students to commit their lessons to parchment.
“Never put it onto parchment,” she ripped the sheet from the small red headed girl the first day she gave lessons. “Anything you write down can be found, and used against you!”
“The others allow…”
“The others have not had their villages ripped from them, or seen witches thrown in…”
“Helga!” Salazar stood in the doorway scowling at her. “Your students may use this time to practice whilst we talk.”
She picked up her basket and walked back to the castle, dropping her gardening tools on the bench set just inside the door for her. Sitting down she bent over and removed her shoes, slipping her feet into cloth slippers.
“Rowena has found a way to make sheets of glass that are almost clear and free of flaws,” Salazar walked toward her smiling widely. “You will soon have your starting box for cuttings.”
“When you pick up supplies this winter, make sure you remember seed. I think to use it to extend the growing season as well,” she said flatly.
“Make a list of what you want,” he said looking at her strangely. “I had expected you to be pleased.”
“I am pleased. I am … tired is all.”
“Your students should be helping you and not playing games at the lake,” he said gruffly.
“I’ll not start this again.” She frowned at him. “My students will not lose their entire childhood. They need time to act like children.”
“They need to learn their lessons.”
“They need to learn how to live if the lessons are to… Salazar, I said I would not get into this again.” She turned on her heel and walked away from him, the soles of her slippers making soft patting noises on the floor.
.
“Helga? Get your nose out of that book. You need to come, the dancing is starting.”
She looked up to see Petru, holding his hand out to her. Laughing, she pushed the tome to the middle of the table and grasped his hand as he pulled her up to give her a firm kiss on the lips. Together they went to the square to join the festivities. It was the time of the Hunter’s Moon, the last harvest of the season, and the last feast of the year. It was the first time they would let themselves be seen as a young couple in love.
.
“We will finish this conversation,” he called after her.
“I hear that these wall’s have ears, talk to them,” she laughed over her shoulder.
He chuckled and hurried after her, matching his easy strides to her hurried steps. “Witch, slow down before you fall. I came to raid your stores. We are brewing tomorrow and need ingredients.”
“I see,” she stopped walking and waited until he stopped and turned to face her. “So you just decided to use this opportunity to berate me on my teaching habits.”
“I made the suggestion that since you do not see fit to commit to parchment, perhaps additional repetition is in order and frolicking at the shores is a waste of time.”
“We had an agreement when we started this. In no part of that agreement is it said I am responsible for supplying your students with what they need. Perhaps if you allowed your students to study with mine they would be able to grow their own.”
“And perhaps if your students learned to brew they would not need my potions. However, for that to work, you would have to allow them quills, and since they write nothing down, they will never be as good as the rest.”
“They are already as good as the rest. As good as the non-magical men they must learn to live with.”
“So we are back to this,” he sighed.
“Yes, and we will keep coming back to this until we can agree on it.”
“I hope you plan on being here a long while, witch,” he smirked at her.
“As long as it takes,” she smirked back, putting her hands on her hips and matching his stance.
He reached out and put two fingers under her chin. “If you were from my clan I would marry you witch.”
“If you were from mine I would prefer to die the same old maid I am quick becoming,” she chuckled seeing his smile.
.
No one saw the first of the soldiers that rushed into the village. No one saw the black cloaked man that searched for evidence and found the open book. No one save Helga had recognized it, as it he held it aloft as proof against the dwelling’s owner, and no one stopped Petru, who put himself between her and the blade.
.
“I can understand her viewpoint,” Rowena sat at the kitchen table leaning forward, resting on both her arms. “Most of these students will return to homes that have never owned a book. How do they explain the sudden wealth?”
“You, who have the most to put down, agree with her?” Godric slid onto the bench opposite her.
“I did not say I agreed with her, only that I understand.”
“Then find a transformation spell to hide them,” Salazar said.
“When the magic weakens, and instead of a pot there is a book hanging on the hook, do you not think someone would notice?”
“I would not be adverse to my students learning some of her ways. They have need of the knowledge of which herbs and plants can be found easily for healing.” Godric shrugged.
“You are much like her, my friend,” Salazar scowled. “Teaching how to use a sword instead of the wand.”
“We have need of it, and will have even more use in the coming years. There are times ahead when we must stand with the non-magical men and protect our lands.”
“I’ll not ask my people to fight for others,” Salazar spat. “We are not welcomed in their land, they are not, and never shall be, welcomed in mine.”
“Salazar, Helga has a point. You go amongst them to purchase supplies and to collect students. You even stay at their inns as you travel. What will your students do?”
Helga crossed the Great Hall and pulled the door open to the kitchens below. Hearing their voices once again loud in argument, she quietly shut the door and leaned her forehead against the rough-hewn wood. Not tonight, she thought and turned back the way she had come, not willing to argue once again.
She often walked at night and studied the sky, taking solace in the predictable and always constant rhythm of the universe. She looked to Cassiopeia and closed her eyes, clearing her mind, hearing Petru’s voice as he had explained the old myths and legends of the ancient and vain Queen.
It was only at times such as this that she could still hear his voice, still think she could smell him on the musty scent of moss that covered the rocks at her feet. His face had faded, and although she knew she could describe him as he had looked when she had first seen him, and how he had looked when she buried him, she could no longer see his face.
“You need to tell them.” Godric stood behind her, gazing up, following her eyes.
“And you need to stay out of it.” She spun around angrily. “Don’t sneak up on me. You are lucky I didn’t have my wand.”
“You are lucky you didn’t have your wand,” he said flatly. “How much longer are you going to try to keep up this façade?”
“Stop,” she whispered and started to walk away when he grabbed her elbow and yanked her back.
“He needs to know the truth of why you are here.”
.
She ran forward and fell on him, turning her face up to the soldier, reaching up her hand and pleading that he be shown mercy. She saw the face above look down on her with distaste and order his men to pull her away while he finished what he had started.
Hands pulled at her, words whispered urgently in her ear. She closed her eyes and screamed as Petru’s life flowed out onto the hard packed soil and lay in a pool, refused by even the dusty earth. She felt a hand clamp on her mouth and another still her hand from sweeping over him as blackness took her, hiding him forever from her sight.
.
“He knows the truth. I told him I have lived among non-magical men, and find the need to teach others to do the same. It’s all he needs to hear.”
“Have you said that for so long that you believe your own lies?”
“It is not a lie.” She pulled against him, her voice beginning to tremble.
“A lie that lays in its omission.”
“An unimportant fact,” she spat at him.
“You lie by not saying his name. You defile his memory by not speaking of his bravery.”
“I save his soul by not uttering his name aloud,” she cried, feeling tears on her face. “Our beliefs are old, older then the clans of this infernal island. I will not give him away! I will not have his soul cast back to earth.”
“Give me your permission to say what I saw.”
“No, you gave me your word as a wizard that you would leave me to my ways and not speak of it. I will not release you from that oath,” she put her fingers over his lips and looked at him in tears. “Please, don’t speak of him. It is wrong to even have this conversation.”
Godric stepped back, bowed to her, and sweeping his arm behind him, to formally end the discussion, returned to the castle with a flourish of robes.
.
She woke as if in a dream. A warm fire lay in front of her, the ground hard under her. She winced at the soreness in her hip as she rolled from her side to her back. Sitting up, she put a hand to her head and wondered how she had come to be there.
“Names Godric,” a man on the other side of the fire spoke to her. “I took the liberty of getting you out of the village. I don’t suggest you go back.”
“Pe… the one …” She looked around for others, not knowing who or what this man was.
“Dead. As will you be if they catch you. Fancy my surprise to find a witch among the men.”
She blanched, and struggled to stand as he jumped from his place by the fire and stopped her.
“Don’t fear,” he said softly, raising his hand to the fire and sending the flames higher. “We share a secret.”
.
Helga was confused the morning she walked into the Great Hall and saw a dais set up in the front of the room, holding a table and several high backed chairs. Finding the short bench gone from the head of her table, she looked down the row to see the other head benches gone as well. Salazar, she thought, frowning and wondering at the cost of such frivolity.
She stomped to the door and opened it, slamming the door against the wall and thundering down the stairs to the kitchen.
“I think she noticed,” Godric laughed, leaning back on the kitchen’s table bench, putting his back to the wall.
“I think she did,” Salazar said flatly, as if she was not in the room. “Do you think she will complain to yourself or Rowena first?”
“You may control the Great Hall,” Helga stepped in front of Salazar and shook her finger in his face, “but this is my kitchen and if you want to play games up there I will play my own down here.”
Salazar felt his lip twitch and swallowed down his smile. “Whatever do you mean Helga?”
“If you want to sit apart from your students then far be it from me to dissuade you. You will however, eat what I put on my table, since it appears we will be supping together, and not complain. Are we clear?”
“I would not dream of interfering with your kitchen.” He lifted his eyebrow and studied her face.
“Furthermore,” she went on, turning to Godric. “You can have Rowena find a way to get the food from here to the room above because starting tomorrow all clans will take meals at the same time.”
“They will do no…” Salazar started.
“What? You are to sit in front of your own students at meal times like a prince in his court? No, I don’t think so.”
“She has a point,” Godric chuckled. “We should have done this earlier. Mine eat last and it is much too late for the little ones. They fall asleep at the tables.”
Salazar looked at Godric and nodded to the door.
“I will run up and see what is taking Rowena,” Godric muttered without looking at Helga, all but fleeing the room at Salazar’s signal.
“I don’t mind,” she sighed turning to the fireplace and lifting out a pot, stirring the contents, and putting it back on the hearth to keep warm. “We should have been doing this from the beginning. They need to spend more time together. It is good to learn other ways.”
He stood behind her and carefully turned her around, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulling her close as he put three fingers from his free hand to her temple, and then lowered his forehead to hers, and gently slipped into her mind.
His mind told her to give up her fear, that he would keep it safe, not to pull away, and that he would protect her. He told her that the seeing was not the same as naming. Let it go, he spoke to her wordlessly as he sorted through her memories. Show it to me, he hissed.
Helga heard the rushing of wings, as if a storm was building in her veins. She fought him, and felt him crush her against him, unrelenting and pushing aside memories she had long forgotten. She saw his face and released her mind, felt herself fly with Salazar, felt Petru’s arms and smelled his musky scent. She tipped her chin up, needing Salazar to find his face and give it back to her. To hold him for her, to let her always know where she could find him again.
She slumped, closed her eyes and felt awash in Salazar’s arms, clinging to him, not wanting him to leave her. Needing to see Petru again.
“Helga.” He sat on the floor holding her, lifted her chin and chastely placed a kiss on her mouth, after breaking the connection. “He was non-magical, yet gave his life for you. We should remember him in song and sing his praises at Oidhche Shamhna.”
She shook her head, lifted her hand and pressed it against his lips, her eyes pleading with him not to say aloud what he was thinking. He sighed and pushed her head to his shoulder, continuing to hold her until he could no longer feel her sobs.
“I do not understand your thinking,” he said into her hair. “You, more then the others, know what can happen yet you think we can live beside them.”
“Others do and keep their ways.”
“And are cast out whenever a reason is needed to blame bad times on. Have you forgotten your history of the Jews? Do you forget that in each country they flee to, they are welcomed until men of false power need to place blame for their own bad decisions? Do you not see that we are next? That it has already begun?”
“They will find their place as will we. Iberia allows them peace now. You will see, soon we will be allowed ours.”
“Ask families that fled there under Raccared or the lines that survived Sisebut. If they could do such things to men who worship their own god, think what they will do to my people.”
“Our people.”
“No, your people belong to a place. A place you still call home, your village. My people I carry in my veins.”
Helga sat up and looked at him strangely. “We are all the same people, Salazar. It is the magic that binds us and makes us as one.”
He placed three fingers on her forehead and brought Petru’s face forward. “Where does he belong? Here or there? In my veins or in your village?”
“That’s unfair,” she angrily pushed against him and struggled to her feet, him standing as well.
“There is no fairness in this world, only the fairness you make of what you have.”
“He was of my village. We were …” she covered her mouth and looked at him tearfully.
“Let him come here. Bring his name to Oidhche Shamhna and give him to our gods.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Sing his name in praise and let him be with you.”
“He is non-magical,” she breathed.
Salazar chuckled, “I think he is past the time he can do us harm.”
She threw her arms around his neck and nodded into his shoulder.
“Helga,” he said, pulling her arms down. “Rowena will find a way to hide the tomes and scrolls. You must allow your students to use them.”
She smiled and ran her sleeve under her nose. “And you will listen to Godric when the new students come.”
“That is different,” he sneered stepping back from her.
“A wise man once told me, ‘There is no fairness in this world, only the fairness you make of what you have.’ With that in mind it would be only be fair to use what we have to it’s best advantage, and if that means taking other then your clan to teach, far be it from me to go against the teaching of such a smart wizard.”
“You are twisting my words witch!”
“You twisted them yourself.” She smirked and put her hands on her hips.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” he tried to snarl at her, only to hear her laugh as she walked away.
“As long as it takes, Salazar,” she called back over her shoulder. “As long as it takes.”