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cernunnara · 1 month

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The Warden and the Witch Ch. 2

Summary:

Feyre Archeron is a wandering witch with the rare ability to glimpse into the future with her tarot cards - a blessing and a curse, that brings fear and suspicion wherever she goes. When her journey to the secluded town of Briar Hollow takes a dark turn, she's thrust into a deadly conflict between men and monsters, with a mysterious beast being an unlikely savior. As darker forces close in, Feyre realizes she must step up to uncover the truth behind the terror sweeping through Prythian. But with her visions clouded and the fate of many hanging in the balance, she soon realizes the survival may come at a steep cost.

Ch. 1 // AO3 or read below!

Ch. 2: A Favor for a Favor

The town had wasted no time waking up in the morning, despite the chaos of the night before. I longed to stay asleep a little while longer, but the cacophony of the marketplace beneath my window grew too irritating to ignore. Ringing bells and the pounding of hooves rose above the din of the crowd, still piercing my ears despite my valiant effort to seal the flimsy shutters closed the night before.

I struggled to open my eyes against the morning light that slithered in between the cracks of the shutters, with exhaustion continuing to weigh down my eyelids. It was a small mercy, at least, that I’d been able to sleep in for as long as I did.

Though it took all of my energy, I managed to swing myself into an upright position, stumbling a bit as I placed my feet on the floor. My head ached as I braced myself to stand; the relentless pounding in my skull evidence that last night really happened.

The fiends.

The attack.

The violet-eyed beast.

It had all seemed so surreal, looking back. All of the attacks that had been reported were one-off events; missing livestock, mutilated prey, a lonesome traveler picked off as they traversed a trail in a deep, dark forest. None of the stories mentioned they’d attack as early as dusk, and certainly none of them mentioned entire packs of hellhounds roamed together. The most bizarre detail was the second group, who had defended me and the caravan.

I crossed the small room and peered out of the window. The shutters creaked as I pushed them open, letting in a stream of light that forced me to squint. Below, the narrow street bustled with early morning activity. Further down, I could see a market that was already in full swing, with vendors tending stalls and townsfolk eagerly haggling over fresh produce. Despite the chaotic commotion, there was a sense of normalcy that belied the terror of the night before.

The inn itself was worn and weary, and the wooden floorboards squeaked with every step I took towards the opposite wall. The brass handle nearly fell out of the door as I pushed on it, peeking into the hallway. Silent, mostly, but down the staircase I could faintly hear scattered conversations in the inn’s bar.

I gave myself a moment to check my bag – my cards, my knife, and my father’s little wooden wolf were all there, squeezed next to my meager rations and cushioned by my woolen cloak. Kicking the door shut behind me, I started downstairs, wincing with every creak the steps let out.

In the main taproom, a handful of survivors sat huddled together at the long wooden tables, some nursing tins of tea, others quietly talking among themselves. They looked as dazed and confused as I felt, a faraway look to each of them as they gazed off into the distance. A few eyes darted toward me as I stepped into the room, as if expecting another attack at any moment.

At the far end of the room, a woman was moving deftly between the tables, placing bowls of porridge and loaves of bread in front of the survivors. Her dark brown hair had been tied back into a bun, but a few strands still fell around her face as she twisted past a bench.

She noticed me as I entered, her warm brown eyes sharp but not unkind. “Morning,” she said, offering a tired smile as she wiped hands on her stained apron, before reaching for another bowl behind the bar. “You must be one of the newcomers from last night.”

I nodded, a little hesitant as I took a seat at the end of an empty table, “I am.”

“I’m Alis”, she said, placing a steaming bowl of porridge in front of me. “You must be hungry.”

“Starving”, I admitted, reaching for the spoon she’d provided. The warmth of the food did little to melt the chill that still clung to my bones, but it was a start.

As I ate, Alis continued weaving between tables, making sure everyone was seen to. Despite her brisk efficiency, she still took a moment to greet and speak to every person, offering understanding nods and gentle squeezes on their shoulders.

She returned after a few minutes, pausing to lean against the table. “Rough night, I heard.”

I nodded, swallowing a mouthful of porridge, “You could say that. I wasn’t sure if we’d make it – I don’t know if we all did, yet. It could have been avoided, you know.” I internally winced immediately after I spoke, regretting the sharp tone I let creep into my voice.

Alis straightened a bit, her expression sympathetic, before she spoke in a hushed tone, “We had our reasons for not letting you all in immediately last night. Not everyone who appears human is human, we couldn’t take any chances.”

I glanced up at her, surprised. “You knew about them?”

“Only rumors”, she said, her gaze drifting toward the window as if expecting to see one of the beasts outside. “There’ve been stories about creatures in the woods for a while now, but nothing like what you folks went through. Seems like things are getting worse.”

I shivered, remembering the violet eyes of the beast that had saved me. Alis’ eyes darted to my wrist, the sleeve pulled up just enough to see the bargain tattoos that covered my arm. A courtesy glance over her shoulder before she leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t get many witches around these parts,” she said, inclining her head towards the ink on my arm, “but I reckon there might be some folks interested in your services if you’re offering.”

I stiffened, caught off guard by her observation, but she merely smiled as she stood straight, a knowing look in her eyes. “It’s a small town,” she added, “word gets around fast. Your secret’s safe with me, but keep your wits about you – even your instincts will betray you here.”

Nodding slowly, unsure how to respond, I tugged my sleeve down past my wrist, grateful she didn’t press the matter further. Alis turned away, returning to her work as I finished my meal, the weight of her words lingering in the back of my mind. If I was going to stay here for a while, I’d need to earn some money.

After finishing breakfast, I set off to the market, mulling over the memory of last night’s attack. We were so vulnerable – I still felt exposed, even within the fortified stone walls of Briar Hollow. I couldn’t rely on just my knife to protect me anymore. A bow and arrow would at least bring some relief, some sense of protection.

I had once been skilled with a bow, but it was always for survival. Someone had to keep our family afloat, even if it meant wandering into the frozen wilderness that encompassed our little village. The bow ended up discarded, sold for a few gold pieces, just enough to get me to the next town over. It brought too much attention to me on the road, with too many nosy villagers curious why a lone woman traveled with such a crudely crafted weapon.

Stepping outside, the scents of the market wafted down the cobbled road, with the smell of exotic spices and rich cuts of meat in the air. I could hear the shouts of vendors, calling out their wares, muddled over the havoc of a crowd. Even from down the street, the vibrant bursts of color were borderline overwhelming: banners, flags, and stall covers seemed to be dyed in every hue in the rainbow. Pennants, decorated in a design I couldn’t quite make out, streamed across the open square, twisting and turning in the breeze. In front of the market’s entrance stood a gaggle of young men, waving flyers and thrusting them in the faces of anyone who passed by.

I started down the road, keeping one hand on my satchel as I scanned the stalls, looking for a fletcher or a blacksmith, or really anyone who might have weapons for sale. Even if I couldn’t afford a new bow, perhaps there’d be something secondhand I could haggle for.

Each stall I passed sent a sharp pang of jealousy in my heart. Beautiful bolts of fabrics with silver and gold threads woven in them, fresh fruits free of rot and mold, exquisite knives forged by an expert’s hand – all so lovely, all so out of reach.

I had stopped before I realized what I was doing, feet frozen in front of a painter’s stall. Small tins of paint were layered neatly on the table, ranging from the deepest shades of purple and blue to the impossibly bright greens and golds. There was even white; the color so pure and striking, I nearly teared up. Old, paint-flecked vases had been set up to display a wide assortment of brushes, and in the back a few canvases leaned against the corner. The wall in the back hung the artist’s works, showcasing detailed portraits and gorgeous still lifes.

My heart thundered with longing, a mix of hope and grief as I surveyed the contents of the stand. What a privilege it was to be able to afford to paint. Not just in money, but to have the time and the space and the safety to.

I let myself stand there, admiring all of it, and though the swell of the crowd eventually pushed me along, my eyes still lingered for a moment longer.

As I moved further into the market, the colors and sounds continued to envelop me, a stark contrast to the grim memories of the previous night. But the undercurrent of tension remained, a reminder that safety was an illusion, even within these walls. My eyes swept over the stalls, searching for something – anything – that might offer a semblance of protection, instead of a reminder of what I couldn’t have. I drifted towards the edge of the crowd, stopping to lean against a stone brick wall, letting myself calm down against the sea of overwhelming sensory input.

“Well, what have we here?” The tone was slick, oozing with a false charm that made my skin crawl.

I turned slowly, meeting the gaze of three young men who had sidled up beside me. Their smiles were too sharp, too predatory, and a sense of unease slithered down my spine. One of them, taller and broader than the others, stepped forward, eyes gleaming with a cruel sort of amusement.

“Out shopping all alone?” he asked, dark eyes looking me up and down. “Not the safest idea after what happened last night, don’t you think?”

I willed my voice to stay steady as I spoke, “I can handle myself.”

The other two exchanged glances and chuckled, crowding closer, blocking me from sight of the crowd. “Oh, we don’t doubt that,” another drawled, his pale hand reaching out to brush a lock of hair from my face. I jerked back, but he remained unfazed, a taunting smirk still plastered on his face.

“Let me go”, I demanded, trying to sound more confident than I felt. My hand twitched toward my knife, but I knew I wouldn’t be fast enough.

The tallest one leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Why don’t you show us how well you can handle yourself, then?”

Before I could react, a strong hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me back with a force that nearly sent me stumbling. The men stiffened, their faces draining of color as they took in sight of the newcomer.

“There you are”, a deep, smooth voice murmured from behind me. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I glanced up, heart pounding, as the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen stepped next to me. His dark hair caught the light of the midday sun, reminiscent of raven feathers, but it was his eyes that made my voice stick in my throat. They were the deepest shade of blue I’ve ever seen, bordering on purple, filled with a mischievous glint. His tan arms slid around my shoulders, the gesture both protective and possessive.

“Thank you for finding her for me”, he said, his voice dangerously pleasant, “Keep yourselves safe out there.”

Without another word, the three men slunk away, their earlier confidence evaporating like mist. I watched them go, my pulse still racing, before turning to face my unexpected savior.

“Thank you”, I said, trying to sound composed, though my voice wavered slightly.

He gave a small nod, his arm slipping away from my shoulders as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “No need to thank me. I couldn’t very well let them ruin such a fine morning, now could I?”

There was something in his tone, an undercurrent of amusement that put me on edge. “What do you want?”, I blurted out, more bluntly than I intended.

He arched a brow, “What makes you think I want anything?”

“People like you don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts.”

He laughed, a rich sound that surprised me. “At least you’re honest, I’ll give you that.” He tilted his head, studying me with those unsettling, near-violet eyes. “Tell me, what do you want? What are you here for?”

The swarm of the crowd seemed far away for a moment. I could distantly hear the awful din, full of chatter and laughter and shouts, but my brain could only focus on the man in front of me. Despite the sun beating down on us, he still dressed head-to-toe in black, with only faint silver threading breaking up the endless expanse of night that stood before me. Not a single hair out of place as he gave me a lazy grin. Suddenly, a sense of shame washed over me, realizing I was standing in the same dirty clothes I had worn the days prior.

I hesitated. The memory of the night before – the helplessness, the fear – was still fresh, and I couldn’t afford to be picky. “A bow,” I admitted, “I need something to protect myself.”

“Ah,” he said, as if that explained everything. “You’re in luck. I happen to know where you can find one.” His eyes not-so-subtly took in my outfit. “And at a fair price, no less.”

I crossed my arms defensively, narrowing my eyes. “What’s the cost?”

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth against his dark skin. “Nothing too burdensome. A simple bargain.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What kind of bargain?”

He leaned in, resting his arm against the wall behind me as I suddenly became aware of how truly tall he was, his voice a lover’s purr that sent a shiver down my spine, “You help me, and I’ll help you. That’s all. A favor for a favor.”

Alarm bells went off in my head; there were always dangers making deals with strangers, especially those who exude such an air of danger and mystery. Desperation clawed at me, insisting I couldn’t walk away empty handed. Did he know what he was asking for? I resisted the urge to check that both my sleeves were pulled down, and instead prayed he was simply fond of ominous wording.

“I’m quite alright, actually,” I said at last, my voice shakier than I intended. “I’m sure I can find another…vendor.” The word felt wrong – he didn’t offer to sell me one, just find me one.

The man’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened slightly, like the night sky when a cloud passed over the moon. “Are you sure?”, he asked, his voice laced with a subtle challenge. “In a place like this, it’s hard to find anyone willing to part with a weapon, especially after what happened last night.”

I swallowed, unease gnawing at my insides. He wasn’t wrong. Weapons were scarce, and those who had them weren’t likely to sell them at a price I could afford. Yet there was something about him that made me wary. He was too polished, too friendly, and too confident.

“I’ll manage,” I said, mustering up as much conviction in my voice as I could. I forced myself to take a step to the side, out of the cage of his arm, putting some distance between us. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m not interested in making deals today.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment, assessing, before he inclined his head slightly and dropping his arm. “Very well. But should you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.” He straightened, his expression shifting to something more casual, “Take care.”

I opened my mouth to ask how could I even find him if I didn’t know his name, but he was already walking away, disappearing into the throng of market-goers as if he had never been there at all.

I stood frozen in place for a few heartbeats, the noise of the marketplace rushing back in as though someone had lifted a veil from my ears. My hand moved back to the bag at my side, feeling around for the pouch that had my tarot cards. Stroking my finger along the card edges, it didn’t ease the unsettling feeling that curled in my gut.

Shaking off the encounter, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I needed a bow, and I couldn’t afford to let some strange, handsome man distract me from that. With renewed determination, I began to weave through the stalls again, scanning the goods on display with a critical eye.

After a few more minutes of searching, I spotted a small, unassuming stall tucked away near the edge of the square, set up in front of a blacksmith’s forge. On the front counter was an array of weapons, the steel blades of various swords and knives glinting in the daylight. But what caught my eye were the longbows leaning against the wall, with quivers of arrows set on the ground beside them.

As I made my way over, a chill lingered on me, despite the warmth of the sun. Behind the table sat an older man, his hands rough and calloused, his eyes sharp despite his age.

I approached cautiously, hovering on the edges of the crowd, trying to gauge whether his prices would be within my limited means before I stepped closer. He looked up as I drew near, his eyes flicking over me before settling on my face.

“Looking for something specific?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.

“I need a bow,” I replied, trying to sound confident. “Something sturdy, but… affordable.”

He grunted, looking at me with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “Had a lot of folks asking for weapons lately. Not many can pay what they’re worth.”

“I’m willing to negotiate,” I said. I didn’t want to sound too desperate, but what did I have to bargain with? “I just need something that works.”

He studied me for a moment longer. “Are you in any of those, ah, whatever they’re forming,” he said, waving his hand around, “guilds! The ones popping up lately – don’t they have weapons to disperse? I’ve already filled plenty of orders for them as it is.”

“Guild? No, I just got here today. I was part of the caravan that – everything that happened, last night,” I said, as finding the right words suddenly became very difficult.

“Ah,” he said, “Well, all the more respect to you for it. These guilds have been popping up lately, all these young fools thinking they’re gonna go gallivanting through the forest while holding hands, and drive out whatever demons are in there.” He shook his head with a snort, leaning back in his chair.

“You don’t think it’s a worthy cause?”

“Oh believe me, I’d love to see those fiends gone. But I don’t think some half-trained nimrods are going to be the ones to do it. Tell me, have you heard any reports where they’ve been stopped by anything short of faebane? At least arrows can be dipped in the stuff, but none of my swords are infused with it.”

I quickly shook my head. “No, I mean, yes, but not really. I guess… at least it’s something?” I offered, my voice taking on an uncertain edge to it. I had seen the hellhounds taken down by something other than faebane, but did friendly fire count? What if the second pack – the pack that had protected us – was just defending their territory? Yet that didn’t explain the violet-eyed beast that had intentionally stopped to protect me.

The old man shrugged, “Sure, sure. But if you want my advice, stay far away from them. They’ll rope you into their idiotic schemes with a promise of glory and money and you’ll be dead before dawn.”

That struck something in me, reminding me of a recent encounter with an overly helpful man. “The guilds – are there a lot of them? How do they recruit? Just so…I know how to avoid them,” I said, stumbling over my words. Was that the goal from earlier, to save me and promise me whatever I wanted in order to drag me into his guild’s service?

He waved his hand again, dismissively, “Ah, you’ll know it when you see it. I’m surprised you weren’t accosted on your way into the market, they’ve been throwing flyers at anything with a pulse. At least the new guilds are; there’s an older order, but their recruitment tactics are a little more underground.”

Well, that explains the men at the entrance of the market. And I don’t think the handsome man from earlier had offered me any sort of pamphlet, but I’d also gotten into the habit of tuning things like that out, on account of my illiteracy.

I nodded faintly to the old man, wanting to change topics. A further study of the tent showed little slips of parchment tied to every item, the number indicating the price. At the very least I could read that, but – “Is that the price for the bows?” I squeaked out.

Surprised at the sudden shift, he turned. “Indeed. Unfortunately I can’t do much lower than that. Demand’s been on the rise, of course.”

“Right, of course,“ I said, swallowing hard. They were all grossly out of my price range. “Do you have anything secondhand, maybe? Like I said, I just need something that works, nothing fancy.”

“Afraid not, what I’ve set out is what I have.”

“Right, yeah. I think I’ll just need a day to think this over, that’s all. Err, will you be here tomorrow – or uh, what days is the market open?”

He gave me a faint smile, a knowing look in his gaze. “Market’s open every Wednesday and every Saturday. I’ll be there.”

I returned his smile, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. With an awkward incline of my head, I shuffled away. That was enough of an outing for today, I decided, setting course back to the inn.

As I made my way back to the inn, the weight of my empty purse pressed heavily on my mind. The memory of those prices, far beyond anything I could afford, gnawed at me with each step. I kept my head down, weaving through the throngs of people who crowded the streets, their laughter and chatter a distant hum. The encounter with the older man replayed in my thoughts, his gruff voice and the impossible numbers written on those little slips of parchment. A bow wasn’t just a luxury, it was a necessity for me.

By the time I pushed open the door to the inn, the sun had passed its peak in the sky, and was beginning its descent. The common room was quieter now, with only a few patrons lingering over their drinks. I scanned the room for Alis. As an innkeeper, surely she’d know everything and everyone passing through Briar Hollow. Her offer of work still persisted in the back of my mind.

I spotted her behind the counter, wiping down mugs with a practiced efficiency. She looked up as I approached, her eyes crinkling in a warm smile.

“Back already?” she asked, setting aside the mug and rag.

I nodded, sliding onto a stool at the bar. “The market was… overwhelming,” I admitted, my brain still feeling overloaded from everything that had transpired. “But I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

Alis raised an eyebrow, “And what exactly were you looking for?”

“A bow”, I said, resigned. “I just thought it’d be nice to have something to really protect myself. But the prices are a little higher than I can afford.”

She hummed thoughtfully, resting her elbows the counter. “Not surprising, with all the talk of demons in the woods. Everyone wants to be armed these days, whether they know how to use the weapons or not.”

I sat for a moment, debating my next words. Alis had been discreet earlier, and had already offered me help. “I was hoping you could help me with that,” I said in a whisper. “I need to make enough money to afford it. But I don’t know where to start – or who might be interested in my… services.”

Alis’ eyes took on a sly glint, briefly glancing toward my arm that was covered by my sleeve, her sweet smile widening. “And what kind of services might those be?” she asked, her voice equally low.

With a quick glance around the room, ensuring no one was in ear shot, I leaned in closer. “I might be able to make a few lucky guesses about the future, or the past – if that’s what someone needs. I don’t like to attract a lot of attention, however.”

To her credit, Alis didn’t seem shocked by my admission. Instead, she tapped her chin, thinking something over as she considered my words. “There are always folks in need of… someone with your talents,” she said carefully. “But it’s the sort of work that comes with risks around here.”

“I’m aware. I don’t have many options.”

She sighed. “There’s an older guild, one that’s been around far longer than these new ones cropping up. They’ve been looking for someone like you – a witch , I mean,” her voice dropping to barely a whisper.

My heart skipped a beat as I sat up straighter. “Do you know where I might find them?”

Alis tilted her head side to side, deliberating for a moment. “They’re a secretive bunch, and they don’t advertise their presence. One of them occasionally keeps in contact with me, but for the most part, if they want to find you, they will. Just be careful, girl. I’ve trusted them so far but making deals with these kinds of people isn’t something to take lightly.”

“Thank you, Alis,” I said, as a sense of foreboding crept up my spine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gave me a reassuring smile as she stood back, casually returning to her work as if our conversation never happened. “Get some rest. You’ll need it if you’re planning to take on work like that.”

“Oh, that reminds me. What do I owe you for last night... and tonight?” I asked sheepishly.

Alis just gave me another knowing smile, “Like I said, get some rest. Dinner hour starts at 5 o’ clock.”

I let myself return her smile and take this one moment of generosity. I’d pay her back, I told myself, but I knew that might not be likely. My thoughts were already racing as I hopped off the bar stool. As I made my way up to my room, the idea of striking a bargain with a mysterious guild weighed heavily on me. I didn’t know who they were or what they wanted, but if they were searching for a witch, they might just be my best chance to earn the money I needed – if I could avoid being ensnared in something far more dangerous.

#the warden and the witch #feeling so proud of myself for posting two entire chapters of my first fic #acotar #acotar fic #feysand #feysand fic #a court of thorns and roses #my fics #got two nice comments on the last chapter and i sat giggling and kicking my feet and writing about it in my diary

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