Solveig was beginning to think back to her childhood. It wasn't a happy time, not exactly, but it was one that had shaped her, one of which that her thoughts lingered back to from time to time- what had driven her from her 'family', and her first home to begin with. It had been a few months since the incidents with her brother training her. With Aricc's scolding that she didn't memorize all his poison and remedy lessons in a single hour because of an expectation. Because she had done what a woman was not supposed to. Months since she had decided to spite them all and become the most outstanding being of manners and grace. Even now she could see the jealous eyes of some of the scolded girls who looked her way as she brushed by; the stares on her back of the men and women alike as she held herself with such grace and beauty it was a miracle she had been the same Solveig as she had as a troublesome little girl. But ever since her mother's announcement that she was going to be an older sister, she knew she had to do whatever she could to protect her little siblings, to better herself, to be something. And 'something' was impressive. It was beauty. It was all the grace in the world, and by the heavens above, did she outshine them all. Or at the very least, she was trying.
Those few months had been peaceful. There was still some scoldings, of course, but there had been less violence. Less sharp hits across her back or her face, no more teeth in her scruff to reprimand her now that she was older, growing into her maturity. At almost ten months old, with her littlest siblings being around three months old and exploring the world much as she had, there had been even more of a precedent to do well, for their sake, to avoid any punishments that could inflict back on them. It was already clear to see that her father still favored their older brother, Arvidd. Her little sister, Saga, was starting to glimpse the same life of scoldings and punishments that she had.
But Solveig had not gained her father's love, despite her efforts. He was not impressed with her because she was still nothing more than a woman, a woman who, while having grown out of her childish stints, was still not perfect, despite having perfected everything that she possibly could. Her actions, her mannerisms, her composure, her posture, everything that she could, everything, but it still wasn't good enough. Even her mother acted no different than usual. Proud, perhaps in some way, but she was never allowed to show it beyond a smile. How long she spent, desperate for her parent's love, for her approval, that even when she made herself akin to a Goddess they still held such little favor for her.
"Gather!" A voice rang through the air that was quick to bring Solveig up to her feet. She could see her mother quickly following suit, barely sparing a second to tuck the ends of her weaving in to keep their places because she was rushing to grab her youngest siblings. For a moment, Solveig watched, for her own reassurance that her mother was on her way safely before she quickly gathered a simple cotton scarf to draw around her neck. The winter was growing cold, and it was a simple adornement that helped to smooth out of her fur and draw the attention to her eyes, little tricks that she had gathered up. Still, the scarf was hastily tucked as she moved her paws towards the center of their clearing, away from the women's tents and where her family resided and to where their Tribe leader stood waiting.
She floated her way into the crowd, hoping the rush of her movements to get there quickly didn't show in her sweeping footsteps, gathering with the cluster of women that joined the group, while the men filed in on the sides, surrounding them. Solveig waited, her heart pounding in her ears as the last few people began to trickle in, whereupon she joined the other women in meeting their leader's eye, extending her paws forward across the snowy ground as she had grown so used to, bowing her body down, til her head nearly touched her paws again, her eyes closed, a submissive action, her elbows locking as she held it. The men would be simply bowing their heads, she knew, a similar state of respect, but much less so. The clearing was so quiet it was likely any break of silence would send them all shattering, but she could hear the shift of their Comannder's paws against the wooden platform akin to a stage. Then, those paws lifted, striking the stage with a sound that echoed across the camp, and at last, her elbows starting to ache with the weight of her own body, they rose back to their paws, her eyes opening to stare up at the large, scarred figure that made up the Camp's commander.
Solveig could not look away to find them, but she could feel her mother's presence close by, that peircing, shaking stare on her back- which meant that her littlest siblings were also there. Up ahead, in front of her, she could see her father, Revestus, and her brother, Avridd, sat up in front of the crowds, their heads high, prideful.
"Today we gather to celebrate the accomplishments of our brave warriors," the gruff, sturdy voice of their Commander rose above the crowd, a large paw lifting to gesture out at the crowd. It wasn't any surprise, there had been rumors of this event for weeks now; their accomplishments during Spring, their hunting prowess or their sparring ability; it happened every season. Giving merit to the men, while the women looked on.
Solveig's jaw tightned, though her expression remained neutral as names began to be called- as expected, it was fathers and their sons, sometimes grandfather's named in memory for their 'wondrous' sons. She watched as her father and brother joined the steadily growing group of men upon the stage, but long since falling deaf to the true sounds of their Commander's words.
It was all so pointless she thought bitterly. They wouldn't find Jax up there in some months to come; Avridd was favored. They would never find one of them, the women, up there, for their hard word in providing nourishment, for raising those sons, those daughters; the ignored, those who spent their lives creating a home, a family name, that earned no recognition for it. Her thoughts were fuming. Things that she would never dare to say out loud, things in which that were unrational thoughts, brought on only by her annoyance in the situation, things that she might have never even considered. But they were only thoughts.
But then it hit her. The crowd had gone silent. Stares bored into her body, and her eyes began to drift, violet irises daring to try and understand what was happening without turning her head too much, to avoid drawing attention; but her attention just as quickly snapped back up when she noticed the look on her father's face, the look almost matched by their Commander, the looks of horror on the faces of the women, those that tried to look away, to pretend like they weren't shocked. What? Why were they all staring at her? She hadn't said anything. Her jaw only ached from keeping it so tightly pressed, even.
"You dare to speak like that?" their commander roared, enough to make even her flinch, her heart suddenly racing in her chest. Had... had they heard her thoughts? Had they understood her? She hadn't spoke! She hadn't spoke! "Revestus, you allow your daughter to speak in such a manner? Your wife?" She saw her father's jaw working, his gaze growing darker, and fear grasped deep into her head, running it cold. It didn't matter how they knew, if they had read her thoughts somehow, but it was all she could do to brace herself as the crowd of women suddenly parted, her rather barreling down on her. She knew what was coming, but the blow still hurt, a heavy paw falling upon her shoulder that knocked her leg out from underneath her, knocking the wind out of her as she went sprawling, crashing to the ground. She heard her father growling an answer, but her head was now ringing from its impact against the snow.
Though the blur of her vision as her head righted itself, she could see her mother, standing with a look of horror still painted over her face, her body frozen as if she hadn't quite yet processed everything that had happened. Her little siblings at her side, though she could only feel herself wheezing as her lungs attempted to draw breath back into them, coughing as they finally succeeded in the task. "You have something to say, Solveig? You disagree with rewarding our best warriors?" the question was less than that; a challenge, a growled statement, that even as Solveig forced herself back to her feet, her shoulder screaming, it was all that she could do to sweep herself into a bow as quick as her feet would allow. Her head down, elbows shaking, she could see now the steady drip of golden blood staining into the snow from her shoulder- her father had used claws.
"No! No, Lord!" she wheezed, her breath still not totally becoming of her lungs. "No," the answer came from the Lord, but the word was drawled, disbelieving; but he did not move, not even as her father loomed over her. "We heard you. We all heard you. You may be beautiful, but you are nothing. You have done nothing but disrespect your family. Is this what your mother believes, too? Did she teach you this?"
"No, Lord, they're innocent! Don't hurt them, don't hurt my mother." It was pathetic, but it was all she could do to try and protect her mother, her siblings, who had done little wrong. How had they heard their thoughts she still didn't know, but it was too late, she couldn't even bring her maddened thoughts to try and consider the idea; only panic flooded her mind, her thoughts, clouding her eyes and clenching her heart with a fear so painful she could scarcely breathe, even if the wind had been knocked out of her.
"Innocent," the Lord hissed, and she could hear her father's low grumble of a hiss, and she felt the fear rush through her again, her shoulders tensing, physically sick were it not for sheer willpower alone keeping her on her feet. "Revestus, do you stand by these notions? Elske?"
"N-no, Lord," her mother's quavering voice barely stammered into a audible tone above a whisper. "I-i would never teach my daughter such... S-such..."
"Traitorous sentiments," her father answered, finishing the thought before her mother had a chance to stammer anything else. "I assure you, we don't stand by this." Solveig's elbows were shaking with the effort of keeping herself in a bow, and she could swear that her heart had stopped, her father's rumbling voice edging dangerously close at her ears, spitting venom. One thing was for certain that this moment, this instance, her mistake, of thinking things that she thought were only in her head, thoughts that somehow escaped, would change whatever rocky relationship that they already had with one another. He would never love her, even if he already never did. "We'll see her properly punished for her actions."
"Yes, you will," the Lord's answer came without hesitation, eyeing the crowd for a moment before his gaze turned to Solveig. "My people! This scrap before you has not learned the rules of our gracious society. She thinks herself stronger than the warriors who had trained hard to keep us safe, to keep us fed- she believes that she is free to speak her mind, to shame her family and her accomplished father and brother, to disrespect those we have come now to honor today. These acts against our rules will not be stood for. Our warriors now will teach her a lesson in who is stronger. It will be carried out by her family- all of her family, if they are truly so against this... notion, as well as the rest of you, my people, to help... properly guide this one." There was a long pause as he allowed the crowd to digest the information, the crowd of women who huddled so closely together, their breath held tensely, suddenly snapping, shuffling apart, away from the bowing, disgraced girl in the middle of it all. She did not look up, but she could feel her brother's seething glare on her shoulders- she had disgraced him, insulted him, too, for what she had said about their warriors. She wondered what their faces were like. Shocked, or reserved- angry, or pitiful for the fate that they knew was coming for the girl who had captured the epitome of grace and beauty. The girl who likely spoke what was on many of their minds, if not only a few. But her family? Her family, beating her? Forcing her little siblings to hurt her, to prove their loyalty? To prove that they had no connection with... her mistake?
But Solveig hardly had time for such thoughts as she suddenly felt her body jerked as the scarf was ripped from her neck, and her head whipped up, not fully connecting what was going to happen in her head, as she stared up into those icy eyes of her mother, the ones that wavered, and shook, as if she were always moments from tears; the eyes the color of the purest ice, the way trace of warmth would sometimes flood them, but there was no warmth there now, only a cold edge before her world went black as the scarf wound around her eyes. It was a mother's mercy, to blindfold her child, perhaps here, and now. She had made a fool of herself, of her family- a punishment this severe would have not occurred had it been any other day, any other time, any other time than before the entirety of her Tribe, before the ceremony that was supposed to be awarding the fine warriors that she just insulted. She was being made an example of.
But she didn't like this feeling of vulnerability, the inability to see, even if she knew what was coming, the anticipation locking her muscles, making the matters worse. What would her little siblings do? What were they even thinking? How could she have done this to them? The first blow landed, heavy and sharp against her back, cracking down on her spine and sending her right back down to the ground. Then the next blow, and the next, different grazes of claws that she could feel; some paw heavier than others, some soft, only pretending to harm her, others digging in viciously. The pain that sparked through her was immense, more than she could have expected as the claws raked down her sides. Many others simply hit her, hard enough to bruise, or to knock the wind from her, but each more painful than the last as the sting of injuries rushed through her body, stealing the breath from her lungs as her world radiated into pain, into tears. She didn't realize it, but she was quickly sobbing, the golden blood running down her sides sickly warm, even as the press of snow in the ground beneath her froze her skin. Taunts were yelled, deep, rumbling voices; some of the women, too, who scorned her for her words, for her actions. Another hit, another gash, another bruise, her breath heaving into gasps into her lungs, desperate to breathe through the tears and the physical pain, resisting the urge to rip off the blindfold, to attack as her body willed her to do, to run, to protect herself, but she couldn't. She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't. Jax, Saga, she had to protect them. She had to face this. She had to do this, because she deserved it. Because somehow, she had said those things in the minds of the others, projected her thoughts, somehow. It was the only tangible thought in her head as another hit, and another, and another, added welts to her sides. She would protect them from this fate.
But then her world went black.
