GW2 fic, Ch 43-49 (7x7x7x7!)

[anghraine]

“I can’t say you look well, but you do look alive!”

I smacked the side of Faren’s head.

“What?” he said. “Alive is the thing, isn’t it?” He turned to my sister. “I’m very glad you’re not dead, Deborah.”

title: pro patria (43-49/?)
verse: Ascalonian grudgefic
characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Deborah Fairchild, Logan Thackeray; Queen Jennah, Ailoda Langmar, others; Althea & Deborah, Althea & Logan
stuff that happens: Deborah and Althea get a taste of normal life, and make plans for the future.
chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42

FORTY-THREE

1

“Mother told me what happened at Shaemoor,” Deborah said slowly. “That’s why so many people just call you ‘hero’?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Half of them don’t know my name. Even Logan didn’t until Faren got kidnapped and—”

She burst out laughing. “Faren got what?”

2

As we walked on, I caught her up on Faren’s abduction, our discovery and defeat of the bandit ring, my consequent involvement in Anise and Logan’s investigation, and of course, Zamon’s trial.

“I underestimated Faren,” she said, laughing again. “I think. But you, in trial by combat?”

“It wasn’t as strange as it sounds,” I told her. “Logan all but begged me to let him help fight Zamon, so I mostly hid behind him and confused everyone with clones while he did the work.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s how he would describe it,” said Deborah.

3

“Probably not,” I admitted, but left it at that; I wasn’t sure I had leave to discuss Anise’s suspicion—now almost a certainty—about Minister Caudecus’s role in both plots. To my relief, Deborah immediately moved on to my discovery of Tervelan’s betrayal, her eyes narrowing when she heard that he was still alive.

“Who can see him?” she pressed.

“No one,” I said. Without hesitation, I added, “Logan’s orders.”

Deborah looked disappointed, as well she might, but she settled back into her earlier interrogatory interest.

“Well—I don’t imagine I’m going to get much past Captain Thackeray,” she replied, “and I do owe him.”

4

“We both do,” I said, believing it with all my heart.

“For looking after you, I mean,” said Deborah, wrapping her arm the rest of the way around mine. “In his way.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I imagine not,” she said, amused, or at least pretending to it. “But he’s had your back. I won’t forget it.”

5

“I won’t, either,” I assured her.

“I always respected him for his service,” she went on. “It’s just a little different, knowing he took you under his wing when I couldn’t be there.”

I almost denied it, but I couldn’t help but think of how, not that long ago, he and I had been nothing but the distantly heroic captain of Divinity’s Reach and a random noblewoman. Somehow in the months since, we’d gone from Captain Thackeray and the hero of Shaemoor, cooperating when our paths crossed once more, to Logan and Althea, to make our ancestors proud, little sister.

“I don’t know if it’s that,” I said honestly, “but he didn’t have to trust me, and he did. Now everything’s different.”

6

Deborah nodded solemnly, but I didn’t see her earlier melancholy in it.

“I did wonder how you ended up as his right hand,” she said. “Now I understand.”

“I’m not—”

Her head tilted. “No? Should I say personal agent?”

7

“Sidekick, maybe,” I said.

Honestly, I had no idea how to describe what I did for Logan—and Anise, and the crown. In any case, Deborah let the matter pass with a tentative hope that she’d like her new commander as much as she did Logan, and from there, it was an easy step to discussing the Falcons and her own future; predictably, she had no intention of leaving the Seraph.

She looked half-defiant, but I just smiled at her and said,

“I wouldn’t expect anything else out of you, Debs.”

She glanced away from me, then turned back so abruptly that I had barely a moment’s warning before she wrapped her arms tightly about me, her chin digging into my shoulder. It was uncomfortable, but I didn’t care.

“I am proud of you,” said my sister.

FORTY-FOUR

1

Deborah started to keep more normal hours after that, and I assumed the other Falcons did, as well. At any rate, Logan came by to see her the next day.

“Sergeant Fairchild,” he said pleasantly.

She scrambled up, disregarding the long skirts she always wore at home. “Captain Thackeray, sir.”

It was a little odd to see him now—for one, under our own roof, and for another, without the heavy armour that almost always weighed down his frame. Even as he ordered Deborah at ease, he seemed almost like a normal person.

2

“Oh—hello, Althea,” he added, nodding casually in my direction.

I didn’t bother getting up. “Hello.”

Sitting down with evident discomfort, he redirected his attention to Deborah and said, “Sergeant, I hope you’re feeling better.”

“As much as I can be,” said Deborah, honest as ever.

“I’ll be upfront with you. I came to ask if you meant to stay with the Seraph, or wished for honourable discharge,” Logan said, clearly choosing his words with care. “It would be understandable if you—”

3

“No,” she broke in. “I joined the Seraph to fight for my people, and my people are still suffering and in danger. Kryta needs all her soldiers. When do I go back on duty, sir?”

Even sitting down, even in her (frankly rather ugly) ruffled gown, she exuded dignity. I’d been tearful and honoured when she told me she was proud of me, but I couldn’t believe she was anywhere near so proud as I was of her.

Logan gave an approving nod.

4

“It will be some time, I warn you,” he said. “Bringing back Falcon Company will take a certain amount of re-organization, and you’re all on medical leave until we’re satisfied with your health, in any case. But this helps direct our plans. Thank you, lieutenant.”

Deborah stared at him. Without so much as a twitch in his expression, Logan turned to me, while I hid a smile.

“Speaking of good health, you’ll be glad to hear that the queen’s continues to be excellent.”

5

“I am,” I said sincerely. I liked Jennah, and I liked her reign still more; nothing would happen to her if I could do anything about it.

We passed over a few polite nothings, though only briefly, Logan being Logan. With a cordial farewell and brisk shake of our hands, he left in the best spirits I’d ever seen him in.

Deborah slumped back onto her chair, her expression bemused. “I—”

“Congratulations, lieutenant,” I told her.

6

Two days later, the Screaming Falcons put on full armour and marched through the upper courtyard to the palace, while heralds formally proclaimed their arrival to cheering crowds. In the palace, the queen rose from her throne to greet them, declaring them all heroes of Kryta, and delivering honours.

I saw it all from the throne room, because Queen Jennah—Queen Jennah—insisted upon my presence there.

“You’re the hero of Shaemoor,” Logan had reminded me the day before, giving a short laugh at the look on my face. “And you did bring them home.”

“We did,” I grumbled, but in reality, I was flattered and proud to stand beside Anise in my finest gown, watching the queen praise my sister.

Altogether, it was everything I could have wished for Deborah’s homecoming: all glory and pomp, and real feeling woven through.

7

Deborah herself received it with grace and dignity. I … well, despite myself, I was damp-eyed—even before the queen summoned Logan and me forwards.

We exchanged an uneasy glance and knelt before her.

“As we honour Falcon Company,” she said, “we must also honour those who liberated them—Captain Logan Thackeray of Divinity’s Reach and Lady Althea Fairchild, hero of Shaemoor!”

Though I’d spent my life in the public eye, I scarcely knew where to look as we rose to our feet; the applause rang in my ears, my cheeks flushed, something seemed to flash before my eyes. It was not altogether agreeable.

Yet it was lovely, all the same.

FORTY-FIVE

1

After the queen’s reception, Deborah determinedly set about a full recovery. She went to bed and arose like clockwork, she ate heartier meals than ever before, and she joined me in my practice sessions, though I strictly limited her activities to the dictates of the Seraph physicians.

Once they assured me that more strenuous exercise would be good for her, I gave into her demand for light duels—which, to our mutual dismay, I easily won. She wasn’t as easily fooled by the clones as most people, but somewhere along the line, I’d become faster and stronger, and my magic more precise. Deborah scowled and kept working at the utmost limits of the healers’ permissions, crowing the first time that she knocked me down; after that, I started putting up a real fight.

All the while, the survival of the last few Falcons became widespread knowledge, and many of our old friends and acquaintances started showing up to see Deborah, driven by affection or curiosity or, most often, both.

The first was almost inevitable.

2

“I can’t say you look well, but you do look alive!”

I smacked the side of Faren’s head.

“What?” he said. “Alive is the thing, isn’t it?” He turned to my sister. “I’m very glad you’re not dead, Deborah.”

“Thank you,” said Deborah.

3

Her tone was dry, but she’d known Faren since he was six; when he reached his hand out, she shook it with the casual friendliness she’d always directed at him. He grinned, kissed her cheek, and flung himself into my chair.

With great earnestness, he said, “I could give you the name of a really fine hairdresser, if—”

“Faren,” I hissed.

He tossed his own hair, glossy as ever. “I, uh, I was talking to you, obviously. Whatever you’re doing with yourself now, it’s left your hair in a wretched condition—that will never do!”

4

“She’s been solving mysteries and rescuing people,” said Deborah, but Faren dismissed the hint with a wave of his hand, just missing an antique Ascalonian vase beside him.

“That is all fine and good,” he said as I moved the vase, “but there’s no need to do it unfashionably!”

“I am a very fashionable adventurer, thank you,” I told him. “I’m just growing out my hair so it stops blocking my vision.”

“How … practical,” said Faren, in a tone of deep disappointment.

Debs laughed, the sound impossibly welcome. “One of you has to be.”

5

Faren did not look at all convinced.

“And how have you been?” she asked.

He lit up. “Well, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m still in absolutely splendid good looks and health. You did notice, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Deborah assured him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

6

To Faren’s even greater joy, she asked him for the name of the hairdresser, after all—probably just to indulge him, though she claimed it was for her next public appearance.

“You’re going to be personally received by the queen again?” he said, eyes rounding. “I never have been, and I’m her”—he counted—“third cousin.”

“You didn’t get captured and enslaved in a plot to end her rule,” said Deborah. “Anyway, we need to get new uniforms and—”

He squeaked. “New uniforms?”

7

“You’re staying with the Seraph?”

“Of course,” said Deborah, as if she hadn’t put off telling our mother for two weeks. Well, Mother had been busy with the chaos at the Ministry, but now that Faren knew, Debs wouldn’t be able to avoid that particular conversation.

“I suppose,” he sputtered, “but—but—surely you’ve done enough?”

“No,” she said simply.

“But—”

She smiled, more than a little triumphant, and said, “You’re looking at Lieutenant Fairchild now.”

FORTY-SIX

1

“That does have a nice ring to it,” Faren said thoughtfully. Of course he did.

“We’re still on leave until we’re declared fit and the captains re-form the company,” Deborah told him, “but I’ll be back in uniform and on duty as soon as possible. There’s a lot to fight out there.”

Faren frowned. The expression, combined with his fluffy cravat and bright blue cape, looked ludicrous, but he’d never crease his skin without cause.

“You sound like Althea,” he said.

2

I started and opened my mouth to protest, but before I could, Faren sprang to his feet and declared, with a dramatic sweep of his cloak, that a certain young woman (I had no idea who) would be missing him.

We had to cover our mouths for a second. I told him, “You’d better not keep her waiting.”

“Indeed not!” he said, but surprised us both by sweeping Deborah into a hug. “Darling, I really am quite happy you’re alive.” He released her and fluttered his hand at us. “Until later, ladies!”

3

Once the servants closed the door behind him, I looked over at Debs.

“He means well,” I said.

“He’s a sweetheart,” said Deborah, laughing. “And he really fought a cave full of bandits with you?”

Remembering his complaints about bandits dirtying his waistcoat, I said,

“After a fashion.”

4

Setting Faren aside, I asked her when she’d tell Mother about the Seraph. Deborah winced, but to her credit, dropped a hint about her new uniform that evening.

Mother set down her fork with a decided clink. “Your … uniform?”

Deborah studied her goblet with intense interest.

“Oh, right,” I said, putting on my best blank face, “the old one is gone, and you probably wouldn’t fit it now, anyway.”

Mother, ignoring this, just stared at my sister.

5

After a long moment, she said, “You’re re-joining the Seraph?”

“I never left,” said Deborah, lifting her eyes to look levelly at her.

“After—when you—sweetheart, you’ve done enough, you—”

“It’s not about enough,” Deborah interrupted. “It’s about what Kryta needs. Our family has what it has because our ancestors were willing to die for their people. Yours did die for them.”

6

“That was another time,” Mother said weakly. She looked as if she already knew she’d lost.

“A time when Kryta was stronger,” retorted Deborah. “And we’re Fairchilds as well as Langmars—Papa’s family has been fighting in Ascalon for centuries. I can’t sit here in silk, doing nothing, while my cousins and my aunt face down Charr every day, and my sister fights at Logan Thackeray’s side.”

Mother darted an almost panicked glance at me. “It doesn’t have to be nothing, Deborah.”

7

“I understand better than you think,” she went on. “I spent years facing down the Charr, because I couldn’t see how much more I could do for Kryta and Ebonhawke in Divinity’s Reach.”

“Can you imagine me in the Ministry?” Deborah asked, and I stifled a laugh.

Mother cried out, “I almost got you killed!”

My sister and I looked at each other, biting our lips. Then Deborah said,

“I don’t have children, and I don’t have a lover or spouse. What I have is our family, and our duty.”

FORTY-SEVEN

1

The argument, if not the disagreement, ended there. The three of us talked normally over the next few days—or what passed for normally at this point, avoiding any reference to Deborah’s return to the Seraph, except when one deputized me to speak to the other.

I didn’t change either’s mind, and I didn’t really try. But my sister, at least, seemed to understand that our mother feared losing her all over again, all the more with me in danger as well, while Mother could see the ethic that drove Deborah so inexorably to military life. I couldn’t ask for more from them than that, and I didn’t think they could ask more from each other.

Personally, I shared both Deborah’s convictions and Mother’s concerns, though I avoided speaking about either. Debs absolutely belonged with the Seraph—and I’d just have to return to developing my map of Kessex Hills as soon as she got posted there.

2

In the meanwhile, Deborah was welcomed by every old friend or near acquaintance in Divinity’s Reach. They came singly, they came in groups, they sent notes and presents; and by the time Lady Mashewe gasped and started crying into her shoulder, poor Debs looked entirely wrung-out.

Whenever possible, I shepherded her towards my own childhood friends, who—though not her friends for good reason—could be trusted to confine themselves to ordinary courtesies.

“It’s good to see you looking so well, Lady Deborah,” said Yolanda, wafting jasmine as she kissed Deborah’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Deborah replied, eyeing her with caution.

“And Althea, darling! I saw you at court with Captain Thackeray.”

3

“I’m often there,” I said. “I’ve become a sort of assistant to him and Countess Anise.”

“Isn’t he dashing?” said Yolanda, fanning herself.

“I’ve never thought about it,” I told her honestly.

Corone, restored to his native good humour with the end of the robberies, heaved a disappointed sigh. “Never thought about it? Althea, Althea.”

4

Beside me, Deborah relaxed, and I silently blessed my friends, however distant our lives might be now.

“Captain Thackeray has been very good to my sister,” she said.

Yolanda and Corone exchanged a meaningful glance.

“Is that so?” said Yolanda, and she seized my hands. “You must tell me everything.”

Baffled, I blinked at her, and then at Corone. “Everything about what?”

5

“Thackeray, of course,” he said eagerly. Turning to Deborah, he added, “They fought together at Zamon’s trial, you know—it was thrilling to see, absolutely thrilling.”

Deborah looked as puzzled as I felt; then, struck by some illumination that had entirely bypassed me, she grinned. “Oh, I’m sure it was.”

“I’m not sure what you want to hear,” I told them. “Everyone knows him.”

“But not like you do, I’m sure,” said Yolanda.

6

She gave a light little giggle.

“I suppose not,” I said. “But there’s not much I can say that’s not already public knowledge—he’s straightforward, loyal, very serious. Very devoted to Kryta.”

“To Kryta, eh?” said Corone.

I wasn’t about to mention Jennah.

“Yes,” I told them firmly.

7

Inexplicably, both of them laughed; Deborah was still smiling.

“Althea,” my traitorous sister said, her voice trembling, “I think you’re … ah, missing something.”

No, really?

“Well, I am absolutely delighted for you,” Yolanda told me.

I stared at her.

If I had no idea how a sighting of Logan at a place he often frequented had led to this particular burst of curiosity, then I had absolutely no clue why it should make anyone happy for me, except that I happened to have been there at the time, and was a close ally.

Perhaps she meant my friendship with him more generally; his celebrity might make that worthy of gossip and congratulations—but it still seemed odd that they’d make such a point of it.

FORTY-EIGHT

1

“Thank you,” I said in utter confusion.

My friends looked all the more thrilled. Debs just snickered.

“You’ve made quite the catch,” said Yolanda cheerfully.

My thoughts scraped to a halt. They couldn’t mean—surely not—

“Logan?”

2

“Is that what you call him?” Yolanda fanned herself again. “What a story, darling.”

“It’s not everyone who wins a man’s heart over centaur carcasses,” said Corone, smiling.

“I didn’t—we’re not—” I knew I sounded both inarticulate and unconvincing, but this was infinitely worse than the speculations about me and Faren. Logan Thackeray, of all people!

3

Deborah, at last, came to my rescue.

“They’re not lovers,” she said succinctly, which she might have mentioned earlier.

Yolanda and Corone both looked disappointed.

“You’re not?” they said at once.

“Gods, no,” I replied, and shuddered. “Logan’s a—an ally to me, a mentor. Nothing like that.”

4

Yolanda slanted me a sly glance. “Is that what Captain Thackeray thinks?”

“Captain Thackeray,” I said, “thinks I’m a trustworthy protégée and a friend. I’m honoured, but that’s all I am.”

“He’s been a sort of brother to her,” said Deborah, a stalwart defender when she chose to be. “And a good one. I’m very grateful.”

5

Yolanda gave a melancholy sigh.

“Ah, I see,” said Corone. His expression cleared into sympathy. “Thackeray had the brother, I know, but I don’t think any sisters.”

“He has one now, you mean,” said Yolanda, brightening up. “And in our Althea! How utterly charming, dear.”

6

I opened my mouth to head this particular detour off, but after another glance at their faces, gave up. They were Yolanda and Corone; they’d always find something to chatter about, all the more when it concerned their own connections. Better this than the other.

Hopefully that particular rumour was confined to Yolanda’s and Corone’s own hurried imaginations—but, considering the gossip that always swirled about Logan, that struck me as unlikely. Of course people would whisper about any woman he spent any significant amount of time with, which meant Jennah, Anise, and—me!

Gods, what if Logan himself heard? I’d die.

7

“I—well—”

“Something like that,” said Deborah.

I almost squirmed under their fascinated regard. Yolanda, I quickly guessed, would expect nearly as good information from a surrogate sister as from a romantic partner.

“Surely, then,” she said, “you’d know—”

“We usually talk of Seraph matters,” I said, “most of it I can’t repeat without permission, he never speaks of the queen except in his professional capacity, and I’m pretty sure his only lover is Divinity’s Reach.”

Deborah grinned, her grip on my arm loose and easy, her eyes crinkling up.

In an instant, I forgave them everything.

FORTY-NINE

1

Between the skill of the Seraph physicians, the power of the local priestesses and priests of Dwayna, and the Screaming Falcons’ own determination, Deborah and her fellow survivors were cleared for service within the fortnight. A few days more saw Falcon Company in full working order; the Seraph had been shuffling supplies and troops in the meanwhile to re-form the company.

Privately, Logan told me that they’d had more Seraph volunteer for the transition than they could possibly assign to Falcon Company, despite the dangers of the post.

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” I asked.

“It’s raised morale,” said Logan. “Recruitment is up, too.”

“That’s a yes, then.”

2

He replied, “Morale won’t save us from the dragons”—I nearly rolled my eyes—“but it’s good, yes.”

“Centaurs first, dragons later,” I said lightly. Before he could lecture me, I hurried on, “What about Tervelan?”

“He’ll have a proper trial,” said Logan, looking as disgusted as I felt, “but it doesn’t matter. The attack on us alone is enough to keep him behind bars for the rest of his godsforsaken life.”

I nodded. “Deborah wanted to pay him a visit.”

3

“I’ll bet she did,” he said. “What did you do?”

“Blamed you,” I replied promptly, leaning against the wall—we stood in one of the many labyrinthine halls of Seraph Headquarters, one currently locked on both sides—to peer up at him. “I love my sister, but I wasn’t about to set her loose on one of our only witnesses.”

Logan looked unsurprised. “I don’t mind taking responsibility, then.”

“I imagined you wouldn’t.”

4

“Speaking of Falcon Company,” he said, “now that they’re leaving, do you plan to remain in Divinity’s Reach? Or—”

“No,” I replied, and suppressed the urge to look away. It was nothing to be ashamed of, for Kormir’s sake. “I’m going to Kessex Hills.”

“Kessex!” exclaimed Logan. “What for?”

5

I hesitated, then forged ahead.

“I make maps,” I told him. “Or refine them, depending on what there is to work with—but I personally travel to every place I have on a map, and make sure it’s as detailed and accurate as possible. Then I send each map off to the Tyrian Explorers Society: they’re trying to to put together a high-quality map of all Tyria, and I thought … well, I can do my part.”

Logan blinked, seeming scarcely to know what to make of this.

“You’re going to travel through the entirety of Kessex Hills to make a map?”

“Well,” I admitted, “I thought I might keep an eye on the Falcons while I’m there.”

6

He gave a short laugh. “That sounds more like you. So, about these maps—do you make multiple copies? If you’re going that far afield, something like that might be useful to the Seraph.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem,” I said, though of course duplicating something that large and that detailed would be a… not inconsiderable task. But it was small enough given everything the Seraph did for Kryta—and everything that Logan specifically had done. “I’ll pass them on as soon as I return to Divinity’s Reach.”

7

“Thank you.” He paused. “While you’re not a Seraph, so I can’t give you orders—”

I laughed out loud. “Logan, you're almost the only person I do take orders from.”

“All right,” said Logan, with one of his faint smiles, “then I’ll expect you to stay in contact, and return if summoned.”

“I will,” I promised.