Topic: Valantis

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-27 09:36 EST
Plans laid in secret were the best carried out, the rebels had come to learn over the course of their quiet war. The movements of the Usurper Queen were not kept secret; nor, too, were the movements of the First Blade. And the rebel leader had a particular interest in the movements of the First Blade. Now that time was beginning to run short, certain plans were put into action, and carried out almost to perfection. A scout of Velasca's guard brought news to Phalion, where the Usurper was staying for now, of a very special sighting - news that Liam O'Connor had been spotted recruiting the son of a lady who held lands two days to the west of Phalion itself. Predictably, she ordered the First Blade to seek out the rebel leader, forgetting the first rule of a tenuous monarchy - be specific, especially when your finest warrior obeys you against her will.

Shaye Dervla took her leave of the Usurper with coldness, bidding farewell to young Prince Adare and his new squire with warmth and encouragement, and rode out alone, to seek out Liam O'Connor wherever he may be. She was not surprised when the sighting led her to an ambush, though the men sent to capture her were astonished when the First Blade of Arctra simply dismounted and held out her hands to be bound. At her request, they blindfolded her, too, setting her backward on her own horse as it was led from the village she had ridden to into the wilds.

For two days, she traveled in this fashion, blind to the road, bound to her saddle, and endured it cheerfully, knowing that at the end of the journey she would see a face she had not seen in over sixteen years. Better still, that she would have no idea of where she was, and thus, have nothing to tell the Usurper Velasca even if she were ordered to divulge the rebels' location. But she knew when they had entered the rebel camp. The sounds around her faltered as her armor was recognized, voices pointing out that the First Blade had been captured, and she grinned at the boost it seemed to give the rebels. For sixteen years, she had been forced to obey Velasca, always stretching her orders to give some leniency to those who deserved it. Now, with this bold move on Liam's part, perhaps that term of servitude would soon be over. If she survived their first meeting in more than a decade.

Liam had given strict orders not to harm the First Blade, and that order was not only given for Shaye's protection. He knew that whoever defeated the First Blade in combat would in turn become the First Blade and, by way of magic, be forced to obey the orders of the one who held the Sword of Arlan, which happened to be the false queen, Velasca - at least, for now. He knew this because it was precisely what had happened to Shaye when she had fought and defeated the First Blade before her, and she had done it in order to help Liam escape.

Sixteen years he had waited to free her. He had tried before, but it seemed something or someone had always gotten in his way, and his plans had gone awry, until now. Perhaps the Nine Gods were at last on their side, or perhaps it was the Goddess of the Wild Ones who had tilted the odds in their favor. He did not know, nor did he care. It wouldn't be long now. Soon he would know whether all his years of waiting and hoping had come to naught or if he had made the right decision, after all.

Still blindfolded, still bound, Shaye offered no resistance as she was taken down from her horse. She could tell that the hands on her were female as she was escorted inside somewhere - a tent set aside for her use, perhaps, or maybe just for the purpose to which it was being put. Without speaking a word to her, the women who had brought her here began to strip the armor from her body, searching for any concealed weapons, leaving her barefoot, dressed only in the undergarments she wore beneath that armor. And then they left her, bound and blindfolded, to await the judgement of their leader. Of course, that didn't stop her from making the most of things. As the women left the tent, Shaye began to sing, wildly off-key, a particularly bawdy, derogatory tavern song, all about the Usurper's bed fellows and their ever-increasingly strange preferences.

"I see your manners haven't improved over the years," a decidedly male voice said from somewhere behind her, a voice that sounded familiar and yet different - older, deeper, and dripping just a hint of sarcasm that might hint at a hidden sense of humor.

She stiffened, the song cut off abruptly as she let herself grow silent. Better to be silent than to give away just what the sound of that voice did to her. She hadn't heard it for years, and yet one sentence was enough to bring back all the feeling she had sacrificed to keep him alive. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, glaring at the inside of her blindfold. "And yours have gotten worse, I see," she commented. Her voice had not changed much - the street inflection was gone entirely now, a more cultured tone reflecting the courtly company she'd been forced to keep over the past years. But there was no mistaking that voice, not for him. "Unless you habitually strip all your captives nearly naked and leave them tied up to be gawped at when you have the time."

"Only the female ones, perhaps," he replied, and this time from the tone of his voice, it would be clear to someone who knew him well that he was being sarcastic, even teasing perhaps. "Have you memorized the line of queens yet' As I recall, history lessons were not your strong point." From the sound of his voice, she would know that he was circling her slowly, studying her or perhaps even toying with her.

Unlike so many of those who surrounded him, Shaye recognized that sarcastic tease, even after sixteen years, snorting with laughter. "I never saw the point in memorizing them, even before the line was broken," she pointed out. "When Velasca's drowning in her own blood, maybe then." Her head turned as his voice drew her, aware that he was circling her, seeing the changes that long separation had made. She had grown fully into her looks, that much was certain, and the strictures of a warrior's life had done nothing to minimize the curves that had finally arrived, a couple of years after they had said goodbye. But there was strength in the body he saw now, barely any softness left. She was trained and strong, skillful, agile, and her form reflected it. No one had beaten her in a straight fight since she was fifteen years old, and though there were scars a-plenty, that resilience showed. "What about you? Learned to braid your own hair yet?"

Those eagle-sharp eyes of his studied her form, both admiring the changes and noting the differences. She had come into her own as a warrior, that much was certain. Whether he could best her in a fight was something he didn't want to put to the test. The real question was where her loyalties lay, and whether or not she could be trusted. He barked a laugh at her question, perhaps the first good laugh he'd had in weeks, loud enough that those outside his tent could hear it and might wonder what their leader found so amusing in his guest. "Braids are for girls. I have no time for such frivolousness here." From the direction of his voice, it seemed he had stopped his circling and now stood some paces directly in front of her. "I trust you were not harmed in your capture."

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-27 09:37 EST
Her head turned, blindfolded eyes still somehow managing to look directly at him as she breathed evenly, making no attempt to escape at all. "I didn't give them a chance," she told him with a rueful smirk on her lips. "I think your people are a little confused by me. How often does the First Blade demand to be bound and blindfolded before they take her away to be interrogated by the big bad war leader?" She chuckled, and in that sound was the wildcat he'd known years before. "Riding backwards on the horse was their idea, though. Clever, too. I haven't the faintest idea where I am."

"I haven't brought you here to interrogate you," he told her evenly, wondering if she knew that already. She had once known his heart better than anyone, but sixteen years was a long time, and he wasn't sure whether Velasca had managed to poison her heart. He paused a moment to consider before he continued, deciding to be blunt, if not entirely honest. "You might as well know I intend to kill Velasca. I will not rest until I do. You can tell her that for me, if you wish. I'm sure she already knows."

"Get her hand off that bloody Sword, and I'll help you," Shaye spat, and there was the fire he remembered, too, undimmed by time. "She's an idiot. All she ordered me to do was seek you out. Well, I've done that. I have no intention of going back, either. You'd think someone who wanted the bloody throne would know a bit more about how to keep it."

Only a few days earlier, he'd had no reason to smile, but he was smiling now, though she could not see it. He found himself admiring her again and wondered what would happen if he took her to bed while she was still blindfolded and bound. Would she enjoy it or would she balk" The thought of it was doing things to his body he had trouble ignoring. He snorted at her estimation of the false queen's intelligence. "I intend to do just that," he replied, letting her know without saying so that this wasn't just about Velasca - not for him. "Why do you think I've brought you here?"

For just a moment, all Shaye's bravado faltered. Only Liam had ever seen her in that state, and it seemed the vulnerable girl behind the facade had grown into a vulnerable woman. "Don't send me back, rua," she pleaded, her voice so soft only he could possibly have heard her. "Please. Don't defeat me, and don't send me back."

He was quiet for a moment, as if he was unsure what to say to that, but he was only fighting for control of his own emotions, as if he was that sixteen year old boy who had lost her all over again. "How can you think I would ever let you go now that I have you back?" he asked, his own voice quiet with the emotion he let so few witness. Her pleading nearly broke his heart, and it was as though they were sixteen all over again. "You should have come with me, lea. You should have left him for someone else."

"You and I both know he would have come after us, with more men, better prepared," she said quietly, her stillness aching at her muscles as she fought not to fight against the rope that bound her, wishing she could see his face. "He would have killed us both, and your mother. I never truly believed in the power of the Sword, not until ....Not until it took me. And that bitch has spent years forcing me to kill at her whim. If I could, I would have slit her throat years ago."

"Yes, but you protected the boy, didn't you?" he asked. "You did what you could despite Velasca's meddling." He clenched his jaw, wishing he could tell her everything, wishing he could tell her the truth of it, all of it, but it was too soon. "The past is the past. We can do nothing to change it, but the future is ours to live as we please." He was moving again, pacing the floor, as tense as she was, it seemed. He came to a halt finally, his voice taking that quiet tone once again, sounding almost like the boy she remembered so well. "I have waited long for this day."

"I would have let her guards kill me without a fight before I let her hurt that boy," Shaye ground out from between her clenched teeth, glaring at the inside of her blindfold. "She's taken too much from him as it is." She paused for just a moment, trusting Liam far more than she had thought she would ever trust again. "There is so much I can tell you, so many of her plans I can share. You could have Phalion within the week, the north within a month. Hell, you could even take Velasca on the road as she rides back to Loscar." Her voice trailed off, however, as she realized what it was he had said. "I know that tone," she said, her voice quietly affectionate but deeply suspicious. "What are you planning, ladyboy?"

"Oh, I will have all that. We will have all that," he replied with a small chuckle. It was amazing how this one woman could completely change his demeanor in only a few short minutes. Though she could not yet see his face, he was smirking at the nickname she had christened him with so many years ago. "I am planning on doing that which should have been done long ago. And I will not take no for an answer. I have not forgotten my vow all these years, lea. Have you?" He was very close now, only a short pace away.

Behind her back, her hand unclenched, fingers running over the scar that dwelt upon the heel of her thumb. Of all her scars, this was the most treasured, the memory of a blood oath sworn almost twenty years before. Shaye swallowed, closing her eyes behind the blindfold, wishing all over again that she could see him standing before her, acutely aware of him not so very far away. "No matter what happens, whatever the gods throw at us," she promised him once again, repeating word for word the oath she had sworn to him that night so long ago, "I, Shaye Dervla, will always belong to you, heart, body, soul, and everything that makes me who and what I am. By Thalan and the moon, this I swear."

The recitation of the oath they'd sworn to each other so many years ago was met with momentary silence as if he was weighing her words. In reality, however, he had merely moved behind her, silently as an assassin. He slid a dagger from his belt, even as he remembered that night, watching as she rubbed at her thumb and the scar there that he knew matched one of his own. His heart ached for her, as it had for the last sixteen years, his vision growing cloudy with tears long repressed. There was only one more thing he needed to know, though he had already warned her that he would not take no for an answer. It seemed he had only grown more stubborn these past years, but it was in good part that stubbornness that had kept him alive. "Are you willing to repeat those words before witnesses and agree to be my wife?" he asked, his voice carefully quiet.

Careful he might have been, but she had lived too many years sleeping side by side with Death not to recognize stealth when she heard it, the sweet lack of sound a metal blade made as it slipped from its sheath. Shaye stiffened once again, achingly aware of her vulnerability, trusting Liam, her rua, not to end her life rather than claim it for his own. His question gave her pause; though her instinct was to give him a resounding yes, she had a question of her own he had to answer first. "Are you certain you wish to marry a woman who may yet still be ordered to end your life, and bound to obey that order?"

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-27 09:38 EST
There was no pause this time, no hesitation. He had been waiting for this moment for many years, impatient but determined to fulfill his part of the oath they'd shared all those years ago. "We are no longer children, Shaye. Velasca made a mistake, and we have taken full advantage of it. I will not allow her to control you any longer. Once we have the blade, you will be free of her forever." He held the blade poised to free her when a thought came to mind, and he hesitated. "Can you swear to me by Thalan and the moon that she has not given you orders to kill me?"

"If she had, you or I would be dead already," she told him, but acquiesced, glad to see that he had learned to be wisely cautious since they were children. "I swear to you, by Thalan, the moon, and the gods who love them, I have been given no order that will bring you, Adare, or your people to harm. And so long as I stay out of earshot of Velasca's voice, I never will."

"So be it then," he said, his voice coming from behind her still. He reached for her hands, easily slicing through the ropes that bound her wrists at her back. Now would come the true test of her honor, but despite everything that had happened, he still believed in her and he trusted her to keep her word, no matter what influence Velasca might have had on her. The ropes fell away, freeing her to remove her own blindfold and see for herself the rebel leader who had grown from a boy to a man since they had been forced to part ways.

She moved slowly once her hands were no longer confined, knowing that this was the true test. But she had spoken the truth - Velasca was an idiot, and she didn't know the true power of the Sword of Arlan. Raising her hands to the blindfold, Shaye carefully removed it, blinking to clear her vision before she turned to look up at the only man who had ever touched her heart.

He was no so much different than she remembered him - taller, broader, older, wiser. His hair had grown long, hanging well past his shoulders, and he had finally matured enough to grow a full beard, but his eyes were still the same - eagle-sharp and somewhere between green and brown. He wore a simple, brown tunic and trousers, sword and knife strapped to a belt at his waist.

The dark eyes that had once infuriated, then captivated, met his, burning with long-remembered, long-treasured love. Shaye's face was now as beautiful as her teenaged form had always promised it would be, crowned with that mane of fair blonde haphazardly caught back in a braid that now hung halfway down her back. But it was her eyes that told the real story - the pain and anguish of losing him, the guilt and remorse at being Velasca's warrior, the fear that she would never see him again, the hope that this time she would not have to say goodbye. She swallowed slowly, utterly at a loss. "You grew whiskers."

"Did you have any doubt that I could?" he replied, a teasing smile on his face, the first he had given her in years. He was nearly as much at a loss as she was, so many things unsaid between them, so many years lost, so much to remember and relearn about each other. "You have grown even more beautiful than I remembered," he told her, as quietly captivated by her beauty as he had ever been. He lifted her chin to meet his lips and kissed her long and hard - the first kiss of many to come. It hardly made up for the loss of years, but that kiss wordlessly spoke of all the loneliness and pain and anguish of losing her, as well as the joy he felt at having her back, and the love that had burned brightly in his heart, no matter how many years had passed. "There is someone I want you to see," he said once their lips had parted, with that small teasing smile on his face that seemed reserved only for her.

She didn't believe a word of his compliments, as she had always disbelieved him, laughing as he took her lips and claimed them for his. Her arms wound about his waist as she answered, taking his loneliness and pain and anguish and returning it to him wrapped up in everything that made her who she was. He had grown tall and handsome in the years they had lost, and she felt a pang of jealousy against the women who must have warmed his bed during the darkest times. But he was hers now, and though the prospect of endangering him was still present so long as Velasca held the Sword of Arlan, Shaye was not going to let him go again. As he drew back, her eyes narrowed with curious suspicion. "Someone?" she asked warily. "Someone who won't mind getting a good look at my smalls, apparently."

"Oh, no, I'm sure he won't mind at all," Liam replied with a rare grin, though he had no intention of traipsing her through the camp in her underclothes. "Wait here but a moment," he told her with a brief but soft kiss that promised many more to come. He stepped away from her just long enough to duck outside of the tent for a moment, his voice a low rumble as he mumbled some order or other to one of his personal guards. If she did want to kill him, the opportunity was there, but somehow he knew she would not.

"He. Hmm." With a low murmur of curiosity, Shaye chuckled as Liam turned away, her eyes lingering on his back. The thought of hurting him never entered her mind, no pull on that part of her bound to the sacred Sword to urge her into murder. Instead, she smirked to herself and turned to look around the tent, noting how ....unlived in ....it seemed. A small frown touched her brow as she took in the bench, the chairs, the cot. One chest to contain clothes, others for armor and weapons. Nothing that truly stamped this place as belonging to him, as being the place he came to for solace from the war. How long had it been, she wondered, since he had given himself leave to feel anything but duty"

Just as he promised, he wasn't gone long, just long enough to issue a few simple orders. "Are you hungry?" he asked, as he stepped back inside the tent, going to one of the chests to rummage for a spare tunic so that she could cover herself. He knew it wouldn't be long before his mother was fussing over her, but for now, he was savoring these first quiet moments alone. "I hope your escort wasn't too rough on you. I gave them strict orders under threat of death not to harm you."

"I could eat," she conceded with a shrug, turning her eyes to him as he opened up one of the chests. His mention of her escort made her laugh, shaking her head. "I think they were too afraid of me. It isn't every day that the First Blade dismounts and demands to be captured."

"My mother will be horrified when she sees you in this, but it will do for now. I am having your clothes cleaned. Your weapons are in safe keeping for now. You are under my protection and won't need them here," he explained, coming up with a simple wool tunic not much different than the one he was wearing. "I would have gone along, but..." He frowned a little as he made his way back to her and handed her the tunic. "My generals do not take my safety lightly."

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-27 09:39 EST
"Your mother?" It truly was astonishing how quickly confusion became delight on her face as she took the tunic back from him. Screw her safety; the news that his mother was alive and well was wonderful to her ears. "I'm so glad, rua. I searched and searched for any news of her, but no one would tell me a thing. How is she?"

He smiled a little behind that dark blond beard of his, brown-green eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. The light and life that had been missing from his eyes had suddenly returned, making him look younger than his thirty or so odd years. "You will see for yourself soon enough." Sooner than she might think, in fact. "Brown becomes you," he teased as she took the tunic from him, sixteen years melting away as if they had only been parted for a few short days.

Pulling the tunic on over her head disarranged her hair even more than it was already, leaving her puffing at a particularly stubborn strand that kept falling into her face. But at least she was decent now; decent enough to walk through the camp, and known enough that no man would attempt to touch her. "Mud has always been my color," she teased him in return, reaching out to take hold of his tunic and pull him to her, answering the kiss he had given her with one of her own, longing and powerful with the love that had not dimmed over time.

That smile grew wide as she tugged him close, arms that had grown strong from fighting circling her waist, giving in to her kiss all too willingly. He knew there would be some in camp who questioned his willingness to trust the First Blade so easily, but they did not know her the way he did.

"Easy there, girl," a familiarly gruff voice spoke from the tent-flap to interrupt them. "Can't have our brave leader dying from kisses after sixteen years of dodging arrows."

Shaye broke away from Liam with a disbelieving gasp, turning to find an impossibility standing close by. Gregor Makos, the training sergeant who had saved both their lives a hundred times over with the skill he had instilled into them, stood there, larger than life, a little more scarred but still a strong, burly mountain of a man with that familiarly disapproving grin of his on his face. He laughed at the look on her face.

"Look like you've seen a ghost, girlie," he commented conversationally, glancing back over his shoulder. His smile softened as he stepped aside. "But here's someone else you might be better able to cope with seeing."

As if on cue, a woman stepped in behind Makos, lovely and graceful and feminine in complete contrast to the old soldier's masculine ruggedness. The years had been good to Meara O'Connor; though she had grown older, her loveliness had not faded, and as she entered the tent, it might be noted that she took the arm of Gregor Makos in a familiar sort of way that was reserved for those who were more than just friends. She smiled at the younger couple, tears shining brightly in the eyes that so matched her son's. "Welcome home, velira," she said, letting go of Makos' arm so that she could offer the younger woman a proper embrace, naming her daughter in the old speech.

Shaye's mouth could not have dropped any more opened if she'd had help to do it. In a flash, she noted the familiarity between her old sergeant and Liam's mother, allowed barely a moment to comprehend that Meara had called her daughter before she was wrapped up in the old woman's arms. It was an effort not to crush the delicate woman in her own embrace, strong as it was, and all of a sudden, Shaye felt tears trickling from her eyes. Home. It had been just a word for so many years, and yet, here and now, she suddenly had a mother - and, if her eyes didn't deceive her, a father - who were welcoming her back to them.

Makos rolled his eyes as the younger woman clung to his wife, shaking with sobs, and turned to chuckle in Liam's direction. "Women."

Liam laughed, a wonder in itself after so many years of anguish. "Be careful. It might be catching!" he warned with a mischievous grin, unable to hide the happy relief that was bubbling up inside him. If it wasn't for Makos, he might cry himself, but he would save those tears for later to share in private with his Shaye.

Meara smiled warmly and brushed the wild tangle of hair back from Shaye's face and held her face in her hands in a motherly sort of way. "You are home now, Shaye. You are among friends and family. Whatever you have been through, whatever that snake made you do, it is over. You are safe here with us, with Liam. We have missed you dearly, child." She spoke to her as though she was of her own blood, and in all truth, she sensed that her son wouldn't want to wait very long before officially making her family.

Face to face with the woman she had given up everything to save, Shaye finally realized that, whatever else she had done, that had been the best decision of her life. Without Meara, Liam would have crumbled; without Meara, Makos would not look so pleased with life. "I am so happy to see you, atarae," she said softly, answering the old speech that named her as Meara's daughter with the answering title of mother. "I am sorry for your losses. But I cannot help but be glad of your gains, too." At this, she glanced toward her former sergeant with a faint smirk on her lips. "I assume he grows on you over time."

A quiet growl came from Makos' lips even as he laughed at the backwards compliment from a former student. "Watch it, lass," he warned her. "I'm still man enough to spank you where everyone can see."

Meara gave Shaye a look that seemed to silently thank her for everything she had done for her and for her son, and for everyone. Because of Shaye, she had escaped certain death, and more importantly to the heart of a mother, Shaye had sacrificed her own freedom to save Liam's life. As far as Meara was concerned, no matter what she had been ordered to do at Velasca's orders, she was a hero in her own right. Maera wiped the tears from Shaye's cheeks and kissed each one in turn, first left, then right, laughing at her remark regarding Makos. Meara glanced over her shoulder at her husband, and it was obvious that she had found happiness with a man for the second time in her life. "Like a wart," she remarked, laughingly.

Liam broke in at Makos' warning. "Ah, but she is a woman now and only her husband bears that right," he said, that hint of mischief still lighting his eyes.

"And I don't have one of those," Shaye added onto Liam's comment with a smirk of her own, finally releasing Meara as the older woman wiped her face dry with gentle hands.

Makos' laughter only grew louder. "That time can be counted in hours, lass, and there's no one in this tent can say otherwise," he pointed out, looking to Liam once again. "You want to speak to them before or after?"

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-27 09:40 EST
"After, I think," Liam replied. "That way no one can argue it." A small frown appeared on his face as he thought of Conall, wondering what his friend would think of this latest development. He thought Liayna would be more inclined to accept Shaye than Conall, but he had given them both his blessing, and he hoped for no less in return.

Meara seemed to sense her son's worries and rested a reassuring hand against his cheek. "This is a day for celebration, velan. There will be no sadness today," she told her son. "Now," she continued, turning back to Shaye with a fond smile. "We have much to do to get ready," she said, taking the girl's hand and leading her toward the tent flap, pausing on her wake to poke Makos in the chest. "You get him dressed in something appropriate that does not stink of horses and sweat. And Liam, comb your hair for once!" she chided in a motherly tone.

"Aye, aye, m'lady," Makos saluted as his wife took everything in hand, smiling fondly after her before turning to Liam with a wide, unrepentant grin. "You heard the woman."

Shaye, on the other hand, was a little wide-eyed at this sudden turn of events. "All I need is clothes, Meara," she pointed out as she was tugged away from Liam. "I'd marry him naked, just so long as I can marry him."

"You only get married once, child. Or in my case, twice," Meara argued. There was a story there somewhere. Perhaps Shaye would hear it while Meara was busy making her presentable. "You can get naked all you want after you're wed," she added with a wink over at Makos. "You have until sunset to get cleaned up and presentable," she warned her son. "You are not to see your bride until then, so no peeking!"

"In other words," Makos informed Liam as Meara pulled Shaye out of the tent, "you need a bath, lad."

Shaye snorted at the thought of gruff Sergeant Makos physically bathing Liam, and then abruptly balked at the thought of Meara doing the same to her. Outside the tent, curious eyes turned her way as she fell into step, her hand caught securely in Meara's grip. She couldn't help but wonder if any of these soldiers and their families knew quite what was happening here. "Meara," she warned quietly. "You should let go of my hand. There could easily be people here who want to fight me."

"Don't be silly, dear," Meara replied quietly as she led the younger woman through the camp to the cave she and Gregor called home. "No one will dare lift a finger to you while you are under Liam's protection, and by tonight, you will be his wife. He will present you to the people and explain what has happened."

Something in Shaye bristled at the way Meara had phrased her reassurance, and though she tried to moderate it, there was a fair amount of defensive resentment in her voice when she next spoke. "I don't need Liam's protection," she muttered, ignoring the pointing fingers and the whispers that followed them toward the complex of caves that led under the mountain. "I was thinking more about you. If someone throws a punch while you're holding my hand, at the very least your gown will get muddy."

Meara frowned a little at the defensive tone in Shaye's voice. She did not want to argue with the girl, but the fact was that she was under Liam's protection, whether she needed it or not. There were those who would not understand, even when Liam explained it to them, but Meara was confident that he knew what he was doing. The question was, did Shaye' "No one will throw a punch," was all Meara said as she led the younger woman onward. The cave she shared with Makos wasn't too far from the rebel leader's tent, and it was easily the most secure and comfortable shelter in the rebel encampment.

Far from reassured, Shaye kept her peace, her eyes warily on the men and women they passed until she felt the coolness of smooth rock beneath her bare feet. It felt odd, walking into a cave with Liam's mother - the last time she had seen the woman, Meara had spent hours teaching her how to stitch a straight line, a skill that had stood her in good stead over the past years. "Why are you in this cave, and he's still in a tent?" she asked curiously.

Once they were safely inside the dwelling place of Liam's most trusted general and his wife, Meara seemed to relax, lifting one shoulder in a shrug as she let go of Shaye's hand and set about gathering some simple food and drink, assuming the young woman must be famished. There would be a feast later, but that was many hours away yet. "My son is a very stubborn man. You must know this about him."

"I've always been just as stubborn as he is," Shaye pointed out, turning to look at the strange contraption they had just walked through. At some point, someone - Gregor Makos, probably - had fashioned a wooden wall and door out of rough-hewn slats and placed it squarely over the rounded entrance to this particular part of the cave, sealing holes and gaps with stiff mortar and cloth. She couldn't help smiling. "You must be the only person in the world who lives in a cave with a door."

"It is not such a bad trait. After all, it is likely what has kept you both alive all this time," she remarked as she set cheese and bread and wine out on the table. "Please, sit and eat. My home is your home," she said, inviting her to sit with a wave of her hand before adding, "The world is a very big place and extends well past the borders of Arctra, as you must well know."

"The only part of the world I care about is Arctra," Shaye answered her with a rueful hint to her smile, obeying the injunction to sit down and fill her stomach without a second thought. She'd long ago lost any pretense at not admitting when she needed something that was offered - manners didn't keep your stomach filled or get you a decent bed, after all. As she tore into the bread, she looked up at Meara. "What happened, with you and Makos?" she asked, requesting a story to help her wash down her simple meal. "I never thought he'd survive, much less marry."

That question brought a soft smile to Meara's lips, hinting at the bittersweet memory that the question stirred. "It was Liam," Meara replied simply, lowering herself into a chair across from the First Blade and folding her hands in her lap. "It was not just Liam and I who fled. Others followed. Gregor was one of them. We brought with us as many as we could, to keep them safe from Velasca's treachery. Liam wanted to go back for you. He went to Phalion. He said he was to meet you there, but it was too late. You were already under Velasca's influence. He wanted to hunt her down and kill her for what she'd done, for the death of his father." Meara paused there, frowning, and drew a small breath. "I loved him, Liam's father. I never thought I could love another. Gregor and Eoghan were good friends. We both grieved his loss. It was years before I learned that he cared for me. It was Liam who finally convinced him that his father would have wanted us to be happy."

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-27 09:41 EST
"Eoghan was a good man," Shaye said quietly. She had grieved, too, in her own way. Though she had not known them well, she had ached deep in her heart for the losses Liam had suffered in the wake of Velasca's seizing of the throne. "But Makos is a good man, too. Hard, but good. And he obviously adores you." She smiled around a mouthful of bread and cheese, swallowing it down with a gulp of water before pushing the plate away only half finished. "I don't dare eat any more. It's been a couple of days since I had a meal, and it might come back up."

Meara lifted her hands from her lap and reached across the table to clasp hold of Shaye's, that soft, motherly smile on her face again, tears shining in her eyes. "Liam is much like his father. Eoghan lives on in his son and in our hearts. I am proud of Liam and of the man he's become, but I am proud of you, too. You have sacrificed much. I can only imagine what loneliness you must have suffered. We have all suffered under Velasca's rule, and we are stronger for it. But all that is about to change. Today is a day for celebration, velira. Today I have welcomed home a daughter that has long been missed. Today is not a day for grief, but for happiness."

The younger woman nodded, quiet and thoughtful away from the immediacy of Liam's presence. And being away from him, knowing what was going to happen in the hours to come, brought a fresh worry to mind. "Meara," she began, clutching at the gentle hands that held her own. "What if I don't ....what if I can't please him' I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to love. The only reason I'm not a virgin is because I let Velasca get me drunk on my eighteenth name day."

Meara laughed a little at the younger woman's concern, such a grave and normal concern for a young woman who was being wed, even for one so formidable in battle as the First Blade. "Do you think my son is so experienced that he will know the difference?" she asked, eyes dancing with amusement. "Trust me, velira. You will please him. You could pass out drunk on the floor and snore all night and you would please him."

"I was rather hoping to be more involved than that," Shaye murmured, and for the first time in her life, she actually blushed, embarrassed to be discussing this with Liam's mother. She sighed then, reluctantly resigned. "So if Liam has to have a bath and get dressed up, dare I ask what you're going to do to me?"

"Shaye," Meara started, noting the girl's embarrassment. Whether she was a seasoned warrior or not, it seemed she was not very experienced in a man's bed. "Follow your heart and your body, and when the time comes, you will know what to do." And since Shaye had asked the question herself, Meara could do naught but answer, a mischievous grin reminiscent of Liam's appearing on her pretty face. "You are going to have the same. And we are going to tame that wild head of hair. By the time I am done with you, Liam may not even recognize you."

It was a far cry from the whore's daughter who had delighted in embarrassing Liam at their first meeting, that was certain. Shaye groaned at the thought of all the work that was going to go into making her look vaguely presentable. "I haven't combed my hair through for almost a month," she warned Meara. "The worse I smell, the more likely it is that the bitch will keep her distance." She frowned, biting her lip as she eyed Meara. "How long have you planning this? Somehow I don't think you're going to let me get married in armor, and none of your dresses are long enough for me."

"Long enough," Meara replied with that smile that seemed to hide a secret she was not willing to share. "You are lovelier than you give yourself credit for. I am only going to help you enhance that beauty."

"Beauty isn't something I'm that bothered about," Shaye warned her soon to be mother-in-law with a rueful smile. "The last person who tried to comb my hair was Liam, and he almost got punched for his efforts."

Meara laughed, imagining that. "I trust you will control that impulse, and I promise I will be gentle. I am a woman. I can show you....certain tricks that men do not know."

That only made Shaye groan louder. Women's tricks were not exactly her forte. So there she sat, in nothing but her soiled small clothes and Liam's tunic, with matted hair, and a very resigned expression. Whether Shaye believed it or not, by the time Meara was done with her, she would be nearly unrecognizable and arguably the most beautiful woman in all of Arctra, at least to his eyes. One thing was absolutely certain ....Liam had better appreciate the risk his mother was taking with her own pretty face to give him a worthy bride.

((Sixteen years apart, and they managed to have a reunion without arguing! Incredible! :lol: Huge thanks to Liam's player, as always!))