GW2 fic, 113-119

[anghraine]

If I had to blast the life out of every Separatist in Ascalon to protect the lives of truehearted Ascalonians, then—then that was what I’d do. It was what Gwen would do.

And I’d waltz with Charr in Ashford before I saw Ebonhawke or Kryta fall.

title: pro patria (113-119/?)
verse: Ascalonian grudgefic
characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Vanguard Erod, Vanguard Raquel; Fianna, various Vanguard members
stuff that happens: Althea finds peace.
chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42, 43-49, 50-56, 57-63, 64-70, 71-77, 78-84, 85-91, 92-98, 99-105, 106-112

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

1

Once my stomach settled, I clambered to my feet. Dusting myself off, I looked around, glad to see that nobody seemed to have noticed the moment’s weakness; in fact, nobody seemed immediately present at all, except some Vanguard on patrol. They each gave professional nods as they continued on their way.

I exhaled. Perhaps I should go back to Aunt Elwin’s house, but I’d just sit around brooding or pitying myself, neither of which would help—certainly not under her sharp eye. No, I had to do something, something that would honour my people instead of leaving their bodies behind me as I cozied up to a Charr.

As I stood there, nails digging into my palms, an idea came to mind.

2

It was morbid, perhaps, but something worth doing. I detoured to the far end of the market, where the Separatists hadn’t reached, and had the luck of finding someone determinedly selling flowers. He seemed a bit twitchy, but brightened right up when I told him what I wanted and offered good money for it.

With a lighter pouch and several bouquets in my arms, I headed to the southeast corner of the city, which I’d passed several times but not felt inclined to investigate. Now I unhesitatingly kept going.

This seemed empty, too, except for two Fallen Angels in the towers above. They watched but didn’t respond in any other way, so I walked up the stairs, right into the middle of the graveyard.

3

Some of the graves already had flowers resting near their bases; I took mine to the first one that didn’t. Kneeling, I carefully laid daisies before the grave of a Loraine Pendinton.

The name meant nothing to me, so I read the stone.

1120-1125

One casualty too many

Gods. I closed my eyes, and prayed for the child’s soul.

4

I passed from grave to grave, from Rufus Tirk (the death of the son redeemed the life of the father) to another child (fly now on Dwayna’s wings ) to a former enemy who had apparently switched sides and died defending Ascalon. There was Blount Brikken, born in Cantha with the heart of an Ascalonian (your one life saved so many others— there had to be a story there). There was even some sort of pet or pack animal.

I knelt and prayed before each one, unsure if there was any point to it; who knew what the gods heard these days, and hopefully the dead had already found peace in the Mists, anyway. Nevertheless—

Dwayna, guide his soul; Grenth and Balthazar, welcome her home; Melandru, Lyssa, please bless the spirits of my people.

I thought of the ghosts that, by all accounts, still raged in the territory overrun by the Charr, and added: bless all of them.

5

I hardly knew what to say to Kormir, though she was my own patron goddess. She had ascended in later years, and I wasn’t at all certain whether she cared about this distant corner of humanity. Perhaps things would be different if she had. But perhaps not, or perhaps some force beyond my understanding guided her.

Rising to my feet, I ignored the grass and dirt unobtrusively staining my leggings, and walked to the only headstone I hadn’t read, one that seemed singled out for some reason; it stood at the end of the graveyard, beneath a stone roof, with plaques on either side.

The grave had no touching epigraphs, no references to the life of the dead, nothing but dates marking a long life and a name.

Then again, it probably didn’t need more than that.

6

I almost reached out to reverently touch the letters, but thought better of it. So here she was—Gwen Thackeray, founder of Ebonhawke. We all knew her story. She’d been enslaved by the Charr as a child, but escaped to make them pay for it, fighting everywhere from deep within Charr homelands to the furthest reaches of Ascalon, here. She’d battled for our people from beginning to end, everywhere she went, so fiercely that people said her name was enough to make Charr quail in fear.

I’d been named for Althea, the martyr, and I admired and respected her; but Gwen was a hero. If I could live up to anyone, it would be her.

7

I couldn’t help but wonder if Logan felt the same. Gwen was his ancestor, not mine—but the thought had scarcely crossed my mind when the left-hand plaque caught my eye.

To Captain Langmar, who led us into this battle

The flowers slipped out of my hands. There’d be no grave for her, but … that was my ancestor, and on Mother’s side, too, honoured here as in Rurikton. I did reach out now, my fingertip touching the familiar name.

Kormir, may I have half as much courage and strength as they did.

ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

1

The plaque continued:

And Captain Gwen Thackeray, who led us to this home,

We shall never forget you

Indeed not. I knelt another time, recovering my flowers; though Gwen’s grave was already adorned by daisies and irises, I couldn’t help but lay the last of mine at the foot of the stone. I folded my hands, not praying, simply gathering what strength I could from the memories and legacies of those who’d gone before.

Neither woman, least of all Gwen Thackeray, had been known for serenity. Nevertheless, a calmness seemed to settle over me as I knelt there. The way forward for our people had never been easy.

2

Many of our people had followed paths of virtue, and it hadn’t protected them from the Searing or the centuries of conquest that followed it. Virtue alone wouldn’t preserve those of us that remained now; the great captains of the past would understand that. They had understood that, and they’d done what was needed without faltering. It wasn’t always valiant or glorious or clean.

Even Gwen, I thought, would understand about the dragons. Logan did.

I will do what must be done, I promised them, and myself.

3

My breaths came deep and regular, and I lifted my eyes to the second plaque, to the right of the grave.

Dedicated to all those who bravely fought and fell,

We honour your deaths, for you kept the heart of Ascalon alive

Yes, they had: some of them my own ancestors, some nearer kin, my uncles and aunts and cousins, and others, any number of my people I wouldn’t ever know. They’d all died protecting this last patch of Ascalon. This was our chance to make it mean something. We had to take it, no matter what it entailed or what stood in our way.

No matter who stood in our way.

4

I unfolded my hands, turning them over, studying the clean palms and fingers. I’d have more blood on these before I was done. I didn’t look forward to it, but I couldn’t afford to lose my resolve in dreading it, either. I might not be a true warrior, but I’d become a fighter through and through.

If I had to blast the life out of every Separatist in Ascalon to protect the lives of truehearted Ascalonians, then—then that was what I’d do. It was what Gwen would do.

And I’d waltz with Charr in Ashford before I saw Ebonhawke or Kryta fall.

5

I stood up again, grim but determined, and rubbed the grass and dirt off my knees as much as I could manage. It didn’t matter terribly, out here, but I felt the effort should be made. At least I was already wearing brown.

Tilting my head back, I felt the sun warm on my face. For so many, it would be just another day. Maybe every day was like that: good or terrible, ordinary or difficult, depending on the person—but the sun rose and set all the same.

I waved at the Fallen Angels watching over the graveyard.

6

On impulse, I walked over to the stairs that opened onto the buildings and platforms surrounding the graveyard, and climbed up to see the Angels up close. They were Seraph, and I knew Seraph, but I couldn’t help but wonder what these ones might have to say, stationed at such a place.

The first, a man, was frowning—not angry, I didn’t think, but discontented with something. I could imagine this post doing that, though, even if it wasn’t my reaction. Then again, I didn’t feel the need to spend hours on end here.

“Hello!” I said, and held out my hand. “I thought I’d come up and see how things are going.”

7

As soon as the words left my mouth, I imagined how presumptuous they must sound—at least without an introduction or anything—but the man just took my hand as gently as his armour allowed and shook it.

“We know who you are,” he said, “but I’m Fallen Angel Erod, and that’s Raquel over there.”

I gave her a friendly nod, then focused my attention back on Erod. “I hope it’s not too difficult out here.”

He sighed and said, “The people of Ebonhawke need to realize they aren’t alone.”

Remembering Aunt Elwin’s and Calissa’s remarks about the Fallen Angels, I felt my eyes narrow.

“Humanity is being pushed into a corner,” he told me, “and the Fields of Ruin aren’t the only battlefront out there.”

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN

1

I stared at Erod, my sense of calm almost—but not quite—vanishing.

“How can you say that while looking at the graves of our dead?” I demanded.

He looked startled, then set his jaw.

“Not just your dead,” he told me, “but mine, too. Good men and women that died for what they believed in. Their loss lessens all of us, but it proves we need to join together to help the living.”

I paused long enough to think.

2

Not all the living, to be sure. I thought of Zamon and Tervelan, and Caudecus behind them, of the murderous centaurs and bandits I’d fought throughout Kryta, and of course, never to be forgotten, the Charr. But it was true enough that we couldn’t separately fight all of humanity’s wars on all of their fronts and hope to come out alive.

I thought of my mother, too, daughter of Ascalonians and Krytans who had melded their lives and fortunes together. I wouldn’t exist without that.

“I suppose so,” I said slowly, “but we can’t pretend that all our circumstances are the same. There’s a reason the people of Ebonhawke feel their situation has been desperate in ways that others haven’t experienced.”

3

“Sure,” said Erod. “Don’t get me wrong—I respect what they’ve done here, for Ascalonians and for all of humanity. But at the end of the day, it’s one small corner of one country, and we have our entire species to fight for.”

I couldn’t think of Ebonhawke as that insignificant, but I understood the deeper meaning. We did have a species to fight for, in Ascalon and Kryta, and we couldn’t do it solely from here.

“True,” I admitted. “With the centaurs at Divinity’s gates and the dragons looming overhead—we have to start working together.”

4

“See, there,” he said eagerly, “that’s what I’m talking about! You’re from Divinity, but you’re doing more than just defending your home.”

I opened my mouth to explain, but I supposed I’d done more than defend Divinity’s Reach or Ebonhawke. It felt odd to think about my history that way, though, when each step had led so decidedly to the next. Apart from joining the Order of Whispers, very little of what I’d done felt like choices—just necessities.

He favoured me with a respectful look. At least, I hoped it was respectful.

5

“Humanity needs more like you,” he concluded.

“And you. Take care,” I said, and turned on my heel to hurry off towards the other Fallen Angel, Raquel. She looked even more brooding and discontented than Erod, but brightened as I approached.

“Good afternoon, hero,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

“I have family here,” I said.

6

“Oh—that’s right. You’re Ascalonian.” She seemed melancholy again, and I fought back the first words that sprang to my tongue.

“I am,” I said.

“So am I,” she blurted out, as if it were some kind of dangerous secret. Maybe it was, in some places. “I just … it’s …”

7

“When Queen Jennah started the Fallen Angels,” she said, “I requested this post—I’m in awe of the bravery of Ebonhawke and its people, but they treat us as outsiders.”

Remembering Aunt Elwin’s remarks about the Angels, I nodded sympathetically.

“What have people said to you?”

“People think that because they were born here,” she said, “they’re somehow more Ascalonian.”

I winced.

“And closer to the cause of humanity,” she went on. “But we’re all in this together!”

ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN

1

“Whether they realize or not,” Raquel concluded.

I scarcely heard her. I was thinking of one of my favourite relatives, my cousin Victoria—not a Fairchild like Calissa and Devona, but a Langmar, the daughter of my mother’s first cousin. None of us knew who her birth parents were, or where they and theirs had come from. She’d been adopted at two or three and brought up as an Ascalonian in Rurikton like the rest of us, but the blood in her veins might have come from anywhere. I knew that Victoria herself brooded over it at times, but none of the rest of us did.

The idea had never occurred to me before, but now it flashed into my mind: would Victoria be Ascalonian enough for Ebonhawke?

2

I thought of everything I’d heard and seen, and suspected not.

Lifting my eyes and my attention back to Raquel, I said,

“I’m sorry you’ve had to face that. I was born here, but you’re as Ascalonian as I am, or anyone.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly. “I—well, I—yes, I mean—”

“And you’re right,” I added. “Every one of us is in the fight for our survival.”

3

“It’s the only way we can keep our people alive; Ascalon lives as long as we do.”

“Ascalon, and humanity,” said Raquel, straightening.

“And humanity,” I agreed. I reached up and clapped her shoulder the way that Logan did with me, though my height made it more awkward. “Take care.”

“Thank you,” she replied, now smiling slightly. “You, too.”

4

As I padded down the steps back to the street, I glanced back at Erod and Raquel. Both seemed more cheerful than I’d found them.

Well, that didn’t happen everyday.

I couldn’t say that I felt cheerful myself, but at least, I felt better, my head clear again. I’d just have to face whatever lay ahead of me, and handle it as well as I could, for my people and for the world. And for myself, too.

I couldn’t have imagined, however, what did lie ahead.

5

I was nearly at the Hawkgates, set on spending the rest of my time helping Ebonhawke with ogres or Charr or even Separatists, when I heard a raised voice in the distance. It seemed to be drawing nearer, but the city was busy enough at the hour that it didn’t seem important. I shrugged it off and continued on my way.

“My lady! My lady!”

I turned, and a messenger came running up behind me.

My eyes widened—he wore Langmar livery.

6

“What is it?” I demanded. “Is my mother—”

“You are one difficult woman to track down,” the messenger said. “I’ve been trying to find you for a week.”

“Yes,” I said, “but my family—”

He handed over a sealed letter. “Minister Ailoda said to tell you that this came for you.”

7

Calming, I turned the letter over in my hands; the paper was thick and fine enough to satisfy even Cin Fursarai. Or maybe he’d made it. Now intensely curious, I broke the seal and started to read.

Greetings, the letter began,

We have not met, but I have long been a follower of your exploits. I am a collector of tales of great daring and heroism, and your name has come up increasingly in the stories that have been reported to me. I’ve spoken with your mentor, and the suggestion was made that I contact you and add your stories to my collection.

What?

ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN

1

My mentor? Anise? Logan? Even Ihan? After a moment’s annoyed bewilderment, I read on.

Your mentor was a member of an adventuring group known as Destiny’s Edge. They were legendary heroes—

2

Ah, Logan. I supposed he made the most sense, as someone who’d be generally recognizable as my mentor. He’d even mentioned his guild a little; it was his former guildmate Caithe that we were to meet in Lion’s Arch, three days from now.

—but went their separate ways about five years ago, for reasons I have yet to discover—none have chosen to share that story with me. If you discover the nature of their separation, I would be most appreciative.

I stared at the letter. All right, now absolutely nothing made sense.

3

Thank you for your help in this, the letter went on, and I will get in contact with you in the future, and hope to keep you in touch with the whereabouts of your mentor and the other members of Destiny’s Edge.

Through this I will remain,

Your Herald

What the …?

If Destiny’s Edge had split up, surely that was their business? And how was I supposed to contact someone I didn’t even know, even if I did discover the reason? And why would I want to?

What was going on?

4

After another moment of total bewilderment, I remembered the messenger and pressed some coins into his palm.

“Thank you,” I said, still baffled. “Tell my mother that I received it, and that I’m in good health.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and sped off on his way.

Who could this “herald” be, even? They didn’t seem to know me personally—unless they were being deceptive, but I didn’t see any reason to assume so at this point. They knew Logan, though, and while I presumed he didn’t know about the herald’s investigation into his private affairs, they were at least on speaking terms; he wouldn’t have put me into contact, such as it was, with someone I couldn’t trust.

5

As I stood there in the middle of the road, puzzling, someone bumped into me.

“Oh! I beg your pardon,” I said, turning about, and found myself face to face with an unknown but pleasant-faced noblewoman.

“It’s quite all right,” she assured me. “Do you hear that?”

I strained to catch anything, but beyond the ordinary talk on the streets and bustle of the city, I didn’t hear anything at all. I shook my head.

6

“No warcries,” she said. “No crash of stones hitting the walls. Just normal city life.”

I smiled. “True.”

“We may not have Ascalon,” she said, “but this peace is enough for me. I just wish it was enough for everyone.”

7

“It’s hard to just roll over and accept everything they’ve done to us,” I said. “But you’re right that it’s better than an eternal war we can’t win.”

“It’s good to hear that I’m not the only one who thinks so,” said the woman.

“And we haven’t completely lost Ascalon—not as long as Ebonhawke stands,” I added.

“Exactly!” she said eagerly. “Well, I hope you make yourself at home here.”

“I have,” I said.

ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

1

After bidding farewell to my new acquaintance, I absently folded the herald’s letter and stuck it into a pouch, relegating the matter to the back of my mind. I had work to do.

Walking towards the Hawkgates yet again, this time I passed through them, the green landscape of the Fields of Ruin spreading out before me. The cobblestone road beneath my feet led gradually down into it, filling most of my vision. But I could see wide, well-trodden paths in the distance, around hilly expanses topped by tall, red-gold trees. Little figures stood on the hills—Ebon Vanguard, presumably.

I squinted at the Vanguard members lining the road out, and marched up to one who looked promising.

2

“Can I help you?” she said.

“I hope I can help you ,” I told her. “I’m a cousin of Scout Leader Tahiri and Captain Fairchild from Divinity’s Reach, and I was wondering if there’s anything particular I can do to help Ebonhawke.”

She looked taken aback, and no less so after a brief glance up and down. As usual with those who didn't recognize me on sight, I waited for a second impression to succeed the first.

“We can always use help,” she said frankly. “But it’s a long way from Divinity’s Reach out here.”

3

I suppressed my annoyance, and said, “I’ve been a long way before.”

“Well,” she replied, “the situation is this. As part of our truce with the Charr, the legions have moved back from Ebonhawke, allowing us to establish new outposts.”

I’d always insisted that Ebonhawke counted as Ascalon, but a new excitement stirred at that. The treaty was giving Ascalonians footholds in our homeland beyond the stronghold? It sounded better all the time.

“Tyler’s Bivouac is one of these, and they’ve run into trouble getting their footing.”

4

She went on, “It doesn’t help that there are Charr Renegades and human Separatists that oppose the truce, seeking to keep the old war alive.”

My lips tightened. Separatists had made themselves the enemies of Ebonhawke, and therefore of Ascalon; Ascalonian blood or no, I had to bring them down. And Charr were enemies regardless. I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to attack these ones.

“I’ll do what I can,” I told her.

“Thank you.”

5

I strode down the cobblestone road, returning nods from unfamiliar but friendly faces, until I stepped out onto the grass. After a moment’s consideration, I turned left, though I only walked a few steps before halting again. I couldn’t help myself.

I lowered myself to one knee and peeled off my glove, laying a palm flat against the earth. However little I usually liked dirt on my hands, this was different. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I knelt in something like awe. This was the land that my foremothers and forefathers had sprung from and fought for—here it was, something I could touch and smell.

6

“Are you all right?” said a voice.

Opening my eyes, I sprang up and smiled at the Ebon Vanguard soldier studying me.

“Quite all right,” I said. “I just—I hadn’t been here since I was a child, and I can’t remember—I haven’t—”

I felt a little silly, but only a little. The soldier’s expression had cleared.

“Your first time on Ascalonian land?” he said.

7

I nodded, my eyes feeling hot. I didn’t know why, and then I realized—I might actually cry.

“It sure is something,” he said. “And it’s ours now for good, if the treaty goes through. Well, be careful out there.”

“I will,” I said, and as he marched past, opened my hand again. Dirty brown streaks ran down it, undoubtedly from the soil—the soil of Ascalon.

ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN

1

I headed westwards along the cliffs, glowing insects fluttering harmlessly along the path. It was uneventful at first, and my attention strayed to the rolling green view to the north as often to what lay along the route I’d chosen.

That was, until I turned my gaze back to the path and saw a body sprawled out ahead of me. I instantly recognized his armour as an Ebon Vanguard uniform, and ran forwards. Bending down to examine him, I found him alive, but only just; he was hardly breathing.

“It’ll be all right,” I told him, reaching for my medical kit.

And behind me, someone said,

“Is that so?”

2

I jerked around, and found myself faced with three unfamiliar human women, all of them armed. One with a shield seemed to be the leader. She said,

“Look, girls—it seems we’ve found one of the queen’s puppets!”

Without a word, the other two women drew their weapons.

Separatists.

“I’m no one’s puppet,” I retorted. “And you’re traitors to Ascalon!”

3

The leader’s face twisted and she attacked, beating her sword against the sceptre Ihan had given me. I held the other two at bay with my own sword until I focused enough to summon up clones and dart away, flinging out illusions as I went. I turned on my heel and lashed aether out at them, through my weapons and my clones, then exploded the clones, each blasting outwards as she vanished.

The Separatists collapsed. I checked to double-check that it wasn’t some trick, but sure enough, they were all dead.

I clenched my hands, horror still my first instinct, then shook my head and ran back over to the Vanguard soldier, keeping my senses alert even as I hoped he was still alive. Sure enough, he still drew heavy breaths, so I bandaged him up as well as I knew how and lifted him with a wave of aether.

4

I could just make out a camp in the distance, one that looked relatively permanent. I made my way towards it, handling the body as carefully as I could, while constantly glancing around for signs of trouble. Luckily, I encountered nobody else, until two Vanguard soldiers marching out from the camp came heading my way. They rushed up when they saw what I carried.

“He’s been missing for hours—where did you find him?” one of them exclaimed.

“By the cliffs,” I replied, pointing. “I think it was Separatists; I had to fight a few of them to get him out.”

5

“Godsdamned idiots,” she muttered.

“I, uh, wasn’t sure what to do about the bodies,” I added. “So it shouldn’t be hard to find where he was attacked, if you want to.”

“Sounds like you dealt with the problem,” said the other soldier, “but who are you?”

“Althea Fairchild—I’m here visiting my aunt and cousins,” I replied quickly. “If you don’t mind, I really think we should get this soldier into that camp, whatever it is.”

“Welcome to Tyler’s Bivouac,” he said.

6

His companion said, “Follow me.”

I obeyed, carrying the wounded soldier through a wooden archway and under the nearest tent. A mix of soldiers and civilians filled the bivouac, some turning to look curiously in our direction, others paying no attention, clearly used to this. Two more soldiers came running over, and I was relieved to see them reach out their hands, blue-white light flickering out.

The wounded man groaned, then sat up, and a cheer went up from the nearest soldiers. I backed away, leaving the man to his comrades, apart from an armoured officer who withdrew alongside me.

“Thank you,” he said.

7

“It was no problem,” I told him, trying not to think of the Separatists. “I’m here to help.”

“We can certainly use it,” he replied. “We don’t get a lot of strangers around these parts, except those damned Separatists who think every inch of Ascalon is their rightful property.”

I assured him, “I’m not a Separatist.”

“Well, as part of the planned treaty with the Charr, we’re able to start building human settlements north of Ebonhawke,” he said.

I still could hardly believe it.