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goonlalagoon · 4 years ago

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Drawn to fall || Leagues and Legends

A series rewrite AU for @ink-splotch‘s fantastic Leagues and Legends books.

This has been sitting as a 90% finished draft for...a while, but talking to @soundofez about WIPs the other day prodded me to actually finish it up

Spoilers for the whole trilogy below

Read on Ao3

It was the Piper who fell first, a ricochet and a song vanishing from the world. Jack and George limped home, but the fight didn't stop with a round of prisoners stolen from the Seeress' grasp, with one more body laid to rest and another widow weeping.

The mage traders didn't get George. The Graves family and their guards were a constant threat, a blight, but the mountain vigilantes had plenty of other dangers to throw themselves in front of. It wasn't a bullet or a gun that slew the Dragon Slayer, but sharp claws and sharper beaks.

Jack never really made it home, from that. He walked through the bakery door and he held Bea as she wept, but he was burning and lost somewhere inside himself. He looked at Bea's maps, her petitions, and he threw himself into saving everyone he could reach with a manic desperation.

It was the Rangers who brought the news to Bea, when they lost the Giantkiller. Jack had been shrouded in good fortune, unknowing, for his whole life, but luck can only take you so far.

The bakery was cold and quiet. Beatrice Jones felt like she had frozen all the way through, turned to stone, and thought she might never thaw again.

(Bidi would wake in the night for weeks, tear stains dried into her cheeks, and crawl into her mother's arms. Bea would curl close around her and remember that she had felt this cold before. She would live through this.)

The news of their falls reached Rivertown, through channels both official and hidden. Rupert mourned the loss of an idol, and didn't know that the revered Rangers, far off in the mountains, were standing with red rimmed eyes at the grave. The Farrises didn't know what their wandering son had been up to, but Jack's mother woke one day to the aching certainty that he would never be coming home. She watched the horizon anyway.

Lanetia Jones heard stories of a mage who had whistled magic out of the air, of his fall, soon after she became acquaintances with the blue blooded hero in her second year study group. She would hold her back straight and clasp her hands neatly on the library table, and ask in a steady voice if he knew anything else about the Pied Piper. Rupert knew stories, legends, Bureau reports he technically shouldn't have seen - but he didn't know the name Liam Jones except from Laney's own tales, so they couldn't be certain.

They couldn't be certain, but neither of them had heard of any other mage who pulled magic into the world with a whistle, and Laney was a pragmatist. The numbers tallied up, the arrival of a dark skinned singer in the mountains and her brother setting out from home, never looking back.

(Liam had looked back for years, his mother's best recipes simmering on the hob, his daughter stumbling through songs a slightly older Laney had warbled terribly on his heels, old familiar stories ready on his tongue - mice and lions, thunderstorms given tongues to shriek, a stubborn kid with her hair scraped into braids by their mother's patient fingers ignoring scrapes and scratches until she could reach the top of the tallest palm tree, because someone had told her that she wasn’t allowed to.)

In the Academy library, warm golden sun spilling over her table and the back of her chair, Laney held herself tall and still because Rupert was neither friend nor enemy, just a classmate, but she would not let him see her weakness either way. She would not.

Rupert fetched slim volumes of legends, dispatches from the past seven years of Vigilante activity in the mountains, and a glass of water. He ached and didn't know how to help, stuffy with it, so when she got carefully to her feet he didn't follow. He re-shelved the books and checked that they hadn't left anything behind, and then he went to do his Uncle's paperwork, burying himself in it until he felt useful again.

They had barely interacted in their first year, but Rupert had known her name and a few other things about the desert-born mage that weren't common knowledge before they were assigned their second year projects. He arranged for them to go to Sally-Anne's for their first meeting, because it seemed like the kind of place that would help everyone relax - would help him relax, really. Sally-Anne gave him a reassuring wink and a bonus plate of chips, on the house, and he sighed pointedly at her transparent attempts to Help Him Make Friends to make her laugh.

When he got back to the table Clem was awkwardly trying to flirt - or possibly just bond, it wasn’t clear - with Laney, who looked stunningly unimpressed. The pipsqueak Sage that Rupert was keeping an anxious eye on while he tried to formulate a discreet way of sneaking numb tea to was buried in his book, slowly demolishing a plate of plain fries without looking up. Heather was rolling her eyes at Laney whenever Clem said something particularly demonstrating an inability to read the mood, and the rest of the time scribbling notes in the margins of a scientific journal she'd brought along with her. Annals of Botany, Rupert thought, because he'd seen her with it in the dining hall on a monthly basis all of the previous year and it was about the right time for a new issue to have been sent out to subscribers. He didn't square his shoulders, because they were already carefully level, posture already perfect. He took a steadying breath before setting down his purchases and trying to drag things back to the agenda he'd planned out the evening before.

Rupert's agenda had included contingency plans, of course. What really had to be covered first, in case someone needed to dash off and hadn't thought to warn him. Who could pick up the slack if their combat spec decided he had more important things to do (Rupert), who could keep their squeaky sage on track (also Rupert), and who would cover what as a back up if someone fell ill (Rupert again).

He hadn't planned what to do if armed men walked into his friend's shop and fired a gun in the air. He had no precise strategies, no intel whispered in his ear by Sez, just his Academy study group and their homework assignment clutched in Grey's trembling fingers, just a room full of frightened civilians.

Clement went down with a bullet in his shoulder, and a bricklayer hit the ground with one in his gut not long after. Laney and Rupert held a hissed conference, and Heather weighed in to point out that official witnesses were probably not part of the thieves' plan. He'd seen gunpowder dusted on Laney's fingertips at breakfast for months, so he wasn't surprised when she fired off perfect sniper shots with the gun that fell within reach. Grey pressed himself back against the wall, pale, quiet, eyes wide over cheeks lit up gold, and that wasn't a surprise either. Heather sitting on one of the fallen gunmen and threatening to force feed him the poisonous plants she was casually carrying around with her was, though mostly because he'd thought she had a basic grasp of health and safety.

Laney trailed him as he went to find Sez, and he would berate himself for carelessness later, but - men had broken into Sally's shop with guns, and the streets were never still or silent. She would know soon, and she needed to hear that Sally was okay from someone she trusted, someone she knew wouldn't have left if it wasn't true.

She dropped her tray down next to him at breakfast the next morning and said she wanted in. Heather and Gloria joined them while he was still blinking and sighing, considering, and he looked around the half empty mess hall with confusion, because he wasn't entirely sure what they wanted from him. He thought maybe Laney was after some excitement, a sharpshooter mage feeling trapped by petty class politics and Academy expectations, but he didn't know about the other two. They asked him for the salt shaker, his opinion on Professor Rhones’ lecturing style, and nothing else.

He let Laney help him with his next Rivertown job, and they patched each other up afterward, discussing strategies and critiquing their own form. They sat together in the library later that week and she asked politely about his essay, on vigilantism in the Mountains and how to effectively combat it - and in the warm, golden light of the afternoon sun, he told her about the Pied Piper and broke her heart.

When Sez next contacted him, he knocked politely on Laney's door, braced for it to slam in his face and holding his shoulders carefully relaxed so it wouldn't show. She didn't shut the door on him, but she did demand to know, on their brisk walk back to the Academy after eliminating a Thing that had taken up residence in an alleyway, if this was pity. She didn't want to join him on these tasks because he felt sorry for her, or because he felt guilty - she wanted to help because she wanted to sink her teeth into something real.

Rupert blinked at her, and began patiently dissecting their joint performance, gave a litany of tactical reports of earlier jobs where a sharpshooter or a mage - or both - would have made things much more...efficient. Laney listened suspiciously for any hint that she was being coddled, but her stomach settled. She had a bruise the width of her palm on her ribs and a stinging burn starting to blister on the backs of her fingers, and she felt a fierce joy welling up through her chest. Laney had learned to fall, true, but that was only half the battle - she'd learned to stand, too, to hit the ground and push herself back to her feet, to decide what was worth falling for, over and over. This, the safety of these streets and these people - this was worth standing for.

Gloria and Heather cornered her one afternoon in the room she and Gloria shared, and demanded to know what was going on. Laney had been slipping out and sneaking back with bruises for over a month, and they were worried. Laney looked at the earnest concern and said, with perfect honesty, that she was doing some extra curricular self-defence training. This had the unintended side effect that Gloria and Heather both wanted in. Rupert sighed when she reported this, and she raised an eyebrow.

"You'd prefer that I'd told them we're Rivertown vigilantes? I can, you know, I think they're both capable of keeping a secret, but I figured you'd rather I not make that kind of decision on your behalf." Rupert sighed again, but he did suggest that the stables would be an okay venue for self-defence classes, and he got her to set up wards so that if anyone came looking they could very quickly pretend to have been doing homework. After all, they were a study group.

The first time the wards went off, they actually just switched to doing core circuits because honestly nobody who'd be checking would believe four people in training gear and somewhat out of breath had been doing their homework in an out of the way corner. Circuits probably still wouldn't be strictly approved of, but they wouldn't be disciplined for breaking Academy rules.

But it wasn't one of the Academy instructors checking for misbehaviour. It was a rather surly combat spec, who seemed quite surprised to see them and immediately asked if Leaf had invited them. Rupert blinked.

"Hello, Francis. No, I haven't spoken to Leaf about...much of anything, really. Laney and I have been using the space for some fitness training, and these two decided they were also interested." Francis gave him a considering look, and nodded slowly, glancing over the rough straw pallets they'd set up to cushion their falls. He gave them a flicker of a smile.

"Leaf and I were planning something similar, actually. Mind if we merge?"

Their study group met in the library or dining hall, after that first foray out into the city, but Laney and Rupert were frequent faces at Sally-Anne's. The growing stable loft gang started dropping by too, laughing over in-jokes and nursing bruises, grinning brightly. Red would claim a corner seat and relax into it like the noise and bustle were a second skin, like he was more comfortable with a floor strewn with straw and fish scales than the polished length of the dining hall at the Academy.

Rupert started watching Francis, quietly and from the corner of his eye, during the handful of classes they shared. A few months into their extracurricular training began, he would suggest that Red join them on their hunts in Rivertown, and shrug when asked why me. It was a decision he had hesitated over, but not one he regretted, after the first alley they raced down, side by side, chasing a wounded manticore into Laney's waiting shields, Red adapting almost instantly to the strengths of his allies.

He had a wealth of knowledge of the things that crept through the dark, though he shone most when it came to creatures of the deep. Soon after the winter break a (small) kraken made its way up the river, and Red barely hesitated before calling out instructions, demanding supplies from the terrified crowd of civilians, not needing to think about what weaknesses were there to exploit. As they bandaged themselves up, after, Laney caught Rupert's eye and raised one eyebrow a hairbreadth. He blinked solemnly in agreement, and they waited patiently until Red was ready to tell them what they'd already guessed.

When Sez handed Rupert a piece of paper scrawled with yellow crayon, he and Laney poured over it for days. Laney dragged out book after book, picking the curse to pieces with a steady determination until she knew how to burn through it. Neither of them knew enough of the shape of this, yet, to know that there was a warning they should offer in turn.

Over the years, Rupert had fought a lot of battles in the name of Rivertown and its inhabitants - in back alleys and warehouses, shin deep in the river and slipping on the muddy banks (in the quiet of his private Academy dorm, the rustle of paper and the scratch of a pen). He had tackled petty thieves, thugs, monsters who went after human bones and Things in the dark. He knew he didn't know all of their victims' stories, but Sez was pale with fury when she told him a child was missing, door broken down and a terrified sibling hiding under a bed. The mother was wringing her hands at a table in the back corner of Sally-Anne's, bent double with grief and anger.

"Should have been more careful," she muttered, "we should have - we thought we were safe, so far from the mountains but the Seeress - everyone knows she doesn't like competition, but we thought we were out of her sight, so careless, so careless..."

Laney's face had gone still, carved from stone, and Rupert's heart was frozen in his chest. Someone had dropped a curse diagram in their pocket, and they hadn't thought about how. This was his city, and he hadn't known there was a risk, that there was any kind of warning needed. Red stepped forwards, reaching out to squeeze the woman's hands.

"Breathe. The slavers took her, you think?" She gave a harsh, sobbing laugh, and he nodded sharply. "Sorry. But we have time, then, because they have to get her to the mountains first, and she has to be alive when she gets there. We have a chance." He didn't sound hopeful, just determined, but she took a shaky breath and squeezed his fingers back. Laney wasn't moving, wasn't saying anything, and Rupert knew she was as puzzled as he felt. Red looked at them sidelong as they slipped out onto the street, and frowned.

"You don't know? In the mountains - there are people who steal mages and drain the power of the Elsewhere out of them, process it to make electricity. Mages have been fleeing the mountains for years, now."

Once, Rupert had broken Laney's heart in the Academy library, unknowing, with reported stories of a lost vigilante. There was so much that they hadn't known, then, and now they were floating on the edges of it. Rupert had known there was a Piper, that he had fallen - but he hadn't known who. They hadn't been able to guess at why.

Laney was thinking of her brother's smile as he poured golden fire into her palms to drift through her fingers. She was thinking of all she had done, to feel that fire on her skin, and of the things she would never have thought of. She had wanted to walk alongside her brother, so badly, but she’d never once thought to drag him down for daring to be something she wasn't.

Red had no idea of the blow he had just delivered, unknowing, in the afternoon sun outside Sally-Anne's. He knew only that there was a child in a lot of danger, and not much hope - but that any hope was still something.

They didn't have supernatural good luck on their side, but they had Sez and all of her contacts, so they found the warehouse. The slavers were waiting for them, forewarned, and they woke in the locked cellar. The child they’d been searching for was curled in the corner, eyes wide and face pale. Laney had expected her to be weeping, but she seemed to be frightened beyond even tears. They were all bound, but their captors hadn't thought to check Laney as thoroughly for weapons as the others - because she was an Academy mage, because she was a girl, because everyone underestimated her at first - so she had a knife tucked into her boot that they could use to cut the ropes. A glowing stone was hung around her neck, casting warm light and harsh shadows in the otherwise dark room. Elaine's wide eyes tracked it, but Laney didn't know what the point of it was, and she had other priorities, here, than asking.

So did Red and Rupert, so they didn't tell her until later, when they had bandaged wounds and finished their homework. They had her set up a careful silencing ward around Rupert's unofficial single room, and explained why the slavers had dropped a fracture in the fabric of the world around her throat. Laney didn't flinch, because no matter how much she trusted this friendship this was not a weakness she was ready to show them. But she trusted them enough to tell them the story - skinned knees and golden fire, her palm pressed up against the endless desert sky, splitting it open.

The Rangers came to visit, sending Red into fits of hero worship - Rupert was almost as bad, except he also remembered seeing half of them as students. Laney and Leaf exchanged long suffering looks full of affection. Gloria and Heather snickered and pretended not to know any of the names being gleefully praised at breakfast, seeing how much of Red’s breakfast they could filch off his plate while he recited heroic deeds before he realised what they were doing and snatched theirs in retaliation.

When the legends of the Bureau arrived, they immediately slipped cheerfully into the back of a lecture, hiding nostalgic giggles that they were too well trained (too used to ambushes) to let slip. They listened to lectures the material of which they'd learned and lived by for years, looking over the assembled students with interest and an unvoiced shared feeling that they were all so very young. They hovered around to chat, to officially mingle and inspire, and Sarge froze when he heard Laney's name. He'd known an L. Jones, mage, once upon a time, and never known how to reach the next of kin without getting tangled in the official channels that they couldn’t afford to get involved.

Rupert followed along when Laney was invited to a private meeting with Sarge and May. They both had their suspicions about what reason these two legends could have for wanting to speak privately with Miss Jones, the very first time they met, and he wanted to be there for her if they were right. He had planned to wait outside, patient as stone, the way she had over their months of friendship when his uncle was giving him frantic hushed reminders about status and reputations and not sneaking out of the Academy in the middle of the night to do freelance vigilante heroics in the back alleys of Rivertown. Laney caught his sleeve briefly as he went to lean against the wall, a brief unvoiced request for company.

May and Sarge didn't know what a concession this was, for Laney to guess what grim news they held out to her and to invite someone else to witness it. They didn't know anything of her but stories, and Liam had never been someone Laney was afraid to see her bruise.

They had guessed, over a year before this otherwise unremarkable evening, that the Piper had been Liam. Red had told them what monsters lurked in the mountains, and they had guessed why. But there is a difference between guessing, between cold logic and lining up the pieces, and confirmation. There is a difference between guessing that the rumours of a distant fall are of your brother, and being told where to find his grave by friends who know his widow. There is a difference between knowing your brother had years of his life away from you, and being told by his grieving friends that he had a wife and child, names you never knew and faces you can’t imagine.

The walls seemed too close when she slipped back out with Rupert steady at her shoulder, eyes dry and back straight, so they made their quiet way to the familiar streets of Rivertown. She was staring at the distant mountain peaks when an explosion split the night, fire blooming on old wooden rooftops behind them. They called their friends to arms, marshaling Academy forces and rapping out orders in practiced partnership. Sarge stepped forward to object - he knew them only as Heads' stuffy nephew and Liam's beloved sister, not tested heroes in their own right. They didn't have a looming redhead vouching for them with years of shared experience they were still only grasping the edges of. Sarge knew them only as children, and he had buried too many of those. Laney froze him in his tracks with her mother's best icy look, and didn't know whether it was that effective or if it was just how unfamiliar that face would be, to someone who had only known Liam and his easy smiles.

Their city was on fire, and it all led back to the same warehouse - faced with a fire demon, Laney slipped by in the harsh shadows to find the rift, while Rupert stayed behind as a distraction, a barrier. He was a paper pushing hero, and the sword in his hand had seen active duty than some of the Bureau Leagues could claim. The flames bore down at him in roaring symphony, and as he adjusted his grip he politely asked it to go back to where it came from. He gave it a chance, a choice, and when it shrieked threats instead he killed it without a second thought.

Rupert had killed more often than some active Leaguesmen, too.

People started to whisper about Laney, after. They called her the Lady of the Lake reborn, and Laney raised impassive, mysterious eyebrows and privately snickered over the abrupt about face of her fellow mages. They whispered about her and so they came down from the mountains, hunting for a golden goose and taking a girl who was barely even a sensitive. Thorne wasn’t trying to trap a Giantkiller, this time, but he was trying to test his potential recruit - and he wanted to get her out of the influence of her far less interesting classmates. Laney didn’t know this, not yet; she only knew that these were the people who hunted mages for the sake of the fire hidden under their skin.

These people had hunted a Jones before, and Laney was going to make them bleed for every heartbeat she had lived without him. She had an elsewhere crack around her neck, and it faded in the golds of the elsewhere as she told an exasperated, understanding Rupert that she wasn't running from this.

Rupert followed shortly after on a surprise internship, a desk hero out to get some field experience. Laney wasn't running, but she also hadn't been sitting around doubting this friendship, so she'd known she wouldn't be doing this alone even before she slipped away to speak to him. Gloria, Heather and Clem went North too, because someone had taken their mage (their sharpshooter, their friend) and they were going to get her back. Sarge frowned over the paperwork, but they were a close-knit group, and Rupert had forged the paper trail too convincingly to stop them. Sarge scowled and scowled, and was uncomfortably uncertain whether he would have stopped them if he could. He had known another Jones, once, with golden fire like that in his veins. He knew what they did to mages with a legend that spread that far, in the mountains.

(A squeaky sage named Sanders Grey buried his nose deeper in his books and pretended fiercely that it was nothing to do with him - that he didn’t know why, that he didn’t know where, that he didn’t feel guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach. He pretended that the headaches were from reading in the dim light, and some days it was even true. He would spend a grudging season after he graduated at the Waypost in the Forest, then move to the library in St John’s Port to embark on a happy lifetime organizing books and scowling at visitors. Spider had left a letter and a parcel of books for him, as he slipped into the Academy to steal away one of their students from down the hall, but hadn’t tried to tempt him home; he trusted Sandry’s chances without her brother’s help, in a world where their three most visible opponents were years dead and buried)

Laney fled the slavers in the middle of the night and was dragged back by the next morning, unknown trackers hidden on her skin. Spider hauled them all before the Seeress, a useless clump of people who held no value or interest to her except for that one of them was the Piper’s sister, an amusement to gloat over. She sat Laney down for a polite chat, to detail how her brother had been a thief and a fool and how he had died.

She did not mention how bright that light had burned, how she had felt it snuffed out. Laney kept her face smooth but the Seeress read her feelings in the flickers of gold around her shoulders, her unclenched fists, her smooth brow - despair, hatred, and a furious broken love. Cassandra wasn’t quite sure, yet, what she planned to do with these interlopers, but killing Bureau Leagues, even trainee ones, was not a sensible course of action, so she shut them in the cells until she had time to calculate her angles.

Laney broke them out instead, and they fled. It was sheer luck that led them to find the shallow cave with supplies and wards to hide them from the sight of even Cassandra Graves - an overturned rock that exposed a hint of a rune, a scuff mark at the back that suggested where to stand to complete the ward. Laney and Gloria pieced it together, and if either of them thought it odd that it should be both so secure and yet coincidentally left open, they did not voice it. In the morning, they stumbled down a valley into a sleepy village that held a statue and a grave that Laney still didn’t quite believe belonged to the same man.

(Spider did not linger to see if they found the shallow hiding hole - he had done his best, and he could not afford to be discovered. He had given them a chance, which was more than he could give most. Thorne had sent a letter North with quiet instructions, and this had been one of them. He had given no reasons why, but Spider was well used to this)

But there was more to this village than the ghost of Laney’s older brother in a village the Rangers had told her how to find. Sarge had told her about Beatrice and Bidi, too, and he’d sent a message North to the Baker, telling her to be on the lookout. Laney recognised the wards pressed into the bones of the bakery, stopped short with her shuddering breath caught in her throat, and Bea stepped forward to pull her into a hug.

They stayed a few days, until they woke one morning to a flag on the hill declaring that an informant had come visiting. Bea took Rupert with her when he offered, but left the others behind. She recognised the resigned pragmatism in his shoulders; she knew he would understand bargaining with almost any devil for the sake of fewer names on a list of the dead. Rupert would understand taking information from the Spider, but she thought the others might object on principle, and the Baker’s network wasn’t so widespread that she could afford lose any threads no matter how little she liked them. Laney was busy teaching Bidi some of the stories from the desert that her father hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her; Gloria, Clem and Heather were keeping carefully out of the way.

They had no link to the Merry Men to earn safe passage through the Woods, so Bea sent messages to Little John through other channels and gave them directions to Challenge instead. Rosie scowled and watched them warily, but Laney was a Jones, and they all remembered Liam. Laney listened to them whisper, to the grief tinging unfamiliar voices, to the echoes of a hero she’d thought only she knew. Rupert had helped a mage in the mountains to heal, unknowing, and now he slipped from bed to bed, trying to use a gift he hadn’t known lurked in his skin.

It went the same as it would in a world where there were different friends here - a collapsed mine and a missing hero; slipping in Spider’s wake into the depths of the Graves’ lab. There was no pipsqueak sage to light the bombs, but Gloria and Laney figured out how to tie the necessary enchantment to a bullet when Spider flagged the issue in their planning session, a joint invention that would have been gleeful were it not for the circumstance. Clem went down under falling rubble and propped himself against a wall to wait while Laney ran towards the sound of danger - Heather and Gloria had followed Spider to the upper floors, met Cassandra Graves and been dragged before the Mayor.

There was no squeaking sage to have secrets torn out of him and laid bare, but Laney still went down with every knotted cord burning, still pushed herself to shaking knees to aim a gun into the golden light of every scrap of power she had wrung from the world and take her best shot.

They were looking for Rupert, and the Bureau was their best chance. Laney signed onto Thorne’s gleeful payroll, while Heather took up her delayed position at the university and Gloria joined her old classmate Grey in the library archives (and badgered Laney into both eating regularly and porting her out to hidden shooting ranges so that she could stay in practice).

Rupert broke himself out of a prison, the Seeress at his shoulder, and met them outside. Laney had been furiously planning a break in from the moment she’d put together where he must be, but Heather had befriended a Bureau lab tech while searching for interesting plants in the market stalls that lurked off the beaten track of St John’s Port, an acquaintance solidified in the frantic rush of triage in a soup kitchen turned infirmary, a mutual seething rage at a disease spread not by chance but by carelessness. Jillit Chu had passed a message on, quietly, a few days later, and one of the things Rupert had said was to wait.

He’d also had an informative discussion with Jill about the germination period of certain plants, which she hadn’t thought anything about mentioning to his friend when she asked anxiously how he was doing, not content with just he’s alive. Heather had nodded, thanked her, and gone back to the flat she shared with the others (and their uninvited but not unwelcome guest of Miz Eliza, when she wasn’t calling in favors and collecting resources to help retrieve her son) to give them a time frame. They were waiting with a getaway car, Laney using careful tricks picked up from the local hedgewitches to open a door, Gloria standing guard with a pistol their sharpshooter had pressed into her plump hands because she couldn’t trust her own.

Thorne wouldn’t know until hours later that there had been a security breach. They would have long since left St John’s Port behind, abandoning the truck somewhere for one of Miz Eliza’s associates to pick up while Laney ported them down to Rivertown - they had no mages with them to worry about the rift, though Laney held a quiet hope that the Seeress would be dragged into the fires instead of making it through with them. Cassandra saw this in the level set of Laney’s chin, the way her face was held perfectly smooth, the disdain in the flick of her eyes. She kept her own face still and expression disinterested. Neither of them were interested in letting an enemy see their flaws and weaknesses, even if Laney was bitterly aware she couldn’t truly hide them from a seer. Cassandra was safe in the knowledge that only two people had ever known of hers, and that neither of them would be telling anyone.

(Sandry didn’t know that her little brother had been only a few streets away, sleeping safe in the spare room the head librarian had been kind enough to let him rent cheap because he didn’t know anyone else in the city to share the rent of a flat with (because the lad was obviously years too young to be out on his own even if he furiously pretended otherwise) - she would have seen him if she’d been looking, but there had been other things to keep her eyes on, and she had long since trained herself out of wondering where Sam had gone.)

Rupert stumbled into Sally-Anne’s to be met with Sez’s fierce grin and a stern admonishment from Sally-Anne to never do that to us again. Laney lurked in the background, retrospective guilt pooling in her throat. It hadn’t occurred to her to let them know - that Rupert was missing, that they had leads, that if he was alive they’d find him and burn down any prison that tried to hold him, that they’d bring him home.

She wondered if they had figured it out somehow, or if they had been clinging to a desperate hope, a denial. She remembered sitting in the Academy library, learning that her brother was dead from whispered rumors, a full year after the fact. She remembered learning that there had been people who knew Liam had a family still in the desert, but hadn’t found a way to tell them they’d lost their footloose child.

(She remembered - she hadn’t found a way to tell the rest of the family yet, either, and shoved the thought back where it had come from. There was a revolution to win, first.)

Sez had been building plans for years, and Rupert wasn’t the reason for it but he was the spark to set it in motion. There was no-one left in their chosen battleground but those who’d decided they wanted to fight for this; Thorne tried to claim the town and Sez brushed away the dirt he was sneering down his nose at to show the lines already drawn. Golden walls rose, the careful work of patient hands, and Laney’s fingers itched to pick apart how it had been done.

None of them had lived through a siege before, but they knew enough from history lessons to know that Laney’s ability to port people out and supplies in were a lifesaver. Sez assigned her an assistant to track supplies and routes, a cheerful burly lad who joked about being a glorified scribe and went still and silent when they mentioned the forgetting field. He wasn’t much help with the technical work on Rememberer, or Laney and Gloria’s private project to see if they could build a device to extract energy direct from the Elsewhere, but it turned out he had a knack for spotting patterns and sifting through data, so they gave him the records of fire demons Red and Leaf had been compiling to filter through. Laney spent a tense few days wondering if she was the cause of things, until their stand in sage pushed pages of annotated maps at her and pointed out the total lack of overlap, chattered ideas for experiments at her to see if she might be strengthening the fabric of the world as she went. If he saw the way her shoulders settled, a tension she’d been hiding as best she could, he didn’t mention it.

Gloria had liberated plans for the machines from the Mayor’s ruined lab, correctly guessing that they wouldn’t be the only copies, knowing that even if not now that it had been done once it would be discovered again. She and Laney had spent scattered evenings pouring over them, figuring out how to modify them - if Laney could wring power out of the sky, they could find a way to make the machines work without draining a mage for power.

The Seeress had smuggled out her own copies of plans from the Bureau lab, parts of machines bundled up under her skirts - it would be their trainee sage who showed her the results of Laney and Gloria’s experiments, cheerfully oblivious to her history. He’d spotted her peering over the blueprints, and just thought that maybe she was helping the other two out. He didn’t understand why she burst into tears when the lightbulb flickered on, knees hitting the ground hard enough to bruise. If he had ever known her name, her reputation, he didn’t remember it to begin to guess at what this might mean. He figured that she must have lost a mage to the machines, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

When she wiped her eyes, Cassandra looked at him, at the ripples of gold around him, and told him who he was. She watched the bubbles pop around him as the knowledge faded as soon as he heard the words, and she hesitated. There was a cruelty here that she had delighted in at first, a delicious irony, but here was a compassion as well that she would never have thought to look for from this quarter. She looked at the machine, it’s low hum and the cold electric light, the lack of residue, everything she’d never let herself dream was possible, and thought I wish I could show Sam. I wish Spider was alive to see this.

Rupert didn’t question her, when she gave him suggestions on the rememberer. She didn’t challenge him on it, needling at loyalties and looking for a reaction, kept the barbs that sprang to the tip of her tongue locked behind her teeth, and reached for the wrench to make the adjustment.

Laney was on a watchtower when the floor rose to meet her, memories slamming back into place with an abruptness that sent her to the ground, that felt like it should have hurt. She fell more than climbed down the ladder, leaving her station to a confused second in command. There were furious shouts on the other side of the wall, and the part of her than wasn’t reeling guessed we weren’t the only ones they hid things from. Her heart thudded in her ears as she ran for Sally-Anne’s, guilt choking her as memories slotted back into place. She slammed into the doorway, stumbling to a halt - Gloria and Heather were already there, crying in belated grief, slumped either side of their cheerful trainee sage - their battered combat spec.

~~~

Clem had been required to repeat a year at the Academy to make up the work missed with his run of bad injuries, a broken arm in the first battle for Driftwood Island and a leg crushed in the fight at Gravestown. He’s called Gloria with regular updates on what Red and Leaf’s band of hooligans was up to that week and to talk about the mathematical puzzles they sent each other. Sometimes Heather stole the phone to tell him about her research, and he doodled out trend graphs on scrap paper while he tried to figure out what she was talking about. They talked about Rupert, a little, but none of them were so naive as to think that it safe to share their suspicions aloud.

A careful few days after Rupert’s memorial service, Clem had wandered down into Rivertown to have a quiet chat with Sally-Anne about a missing friend. He’d waited to see if there were any patterns to watch out for, any hints to send back to the others, to make sure that if any of the Bureau were watching saw just a grieving schoolmate who had accepted his loss. They weren’t sure if the Bureau were responsible for Rupert, but at the end of the day that just meant they weren’t sure they hadn’t been. Clem didn’t mention to the others that he’d made the trip - it didn’t occur to him that they hadn’t thought of it; he figured they’d rightly assumed he would handle it.

He kept his head down at the Academy as much as he could, though he couldn’t escape notice as one of the sort-of ringleaders of the new Stable Loft Crew (Red and Leaf ran it, but they’d figured out the year before that Clem wasn’t a bad support instructor). He couldn’t help search for Rupert, but he combed the library for information on Walking Stars, for statistics on the mountain’s energy supplies. He stepped in when he saw people being bullied, tried to see the patterns in the Academy Rupert had woven himself into and pick up the slack, and tracked down reports of shady Bureau dealings of the past, trying to see patterns in those as well. He called Laney more rarely than either Gloria or Heather, because they’d always had very little in common at the end of the day, but they were still part of a team, and at the end of the day that mattered to both of them.

Clem had been on the watch for the Bureau, but he was only a student, and one unused to politics. The Quiet Branch had always kept an eye on the Academy, and they noticed the way the young combat spec was acting. He broke the arm of one of the agents who came for him, and gave the other a black eye. He woke up in an alleyway with bruised knuckles, and didn’t know why.

Thorne was always watching for people who might hold some sway over any of his prospects, and he had needed a test subject.

~~~

It felt, later, like that flick of a switch had set it all in motion - as though when one of Thorne’s plan’s unraveled they all did.

Jillit Chu turned up on their doorstep, grimly relieved and determined to finish what she’d started. Rupert welcomed her gratefully, and she eyed the impassive Seeress the way she had in the hidden lab. Some things had changed with the flick of a switch, but the weight of those years failing to save the Seeress’ victims hadn’t. Cassandra looked coolly back, and pretended that she wasn’t reeling herself, that the ground below her feet was still the steady ground of what we do is right.

In this world, there was no squeaky sage sharing a room with his big sister to make Wren hesitate. She slipped into the Seeress’s room with a knife to hold a blade to the throat of a monster. Cassandra hissed all the bile she could, every weakness she could see spiraling around them, and Wren’s smile was colder than anything the Seeress had ever managed. She left Cassandra alive, because this wasn’t about revenge, about paying in blood for what the Seeress had wrought. This was a shaking woman proving that she could face down her monsters, that her nightmares had no hold over her. That she could choose to let the Seeress live because it wasn’t worth killing her, because the Seeress was just a young woman who couldn’t harm her again.

She left Cassandra alive, and Sandry shook through the night. Many people had cursed the Seeress’s name over the years, hissed threats, but few had ever gotten close enough to lay hands on her. She remembered making hot cocoa for her brother after bad dreams, remembered telling him he wasn’t allowed to be afraid like that would be enough to keep him safe.

Thorne went after Bea, after Bidi, and Laney ran for the mountains with Rupert on one side of her and Clem at her heels - it took only minutes to port through, but the dragons were quicker even than even that. Bidi had screamed for help, and they had answered. Clem spent an hour in delighted conversation with them via Bidi, scholarly glee and childish enthusiasm, while Laney did her best to comfort Bea for the loss of her home while her daughter was distracted. Once Bidi was asleep, Clem helped Laney dig out the remains of the attackers from the bakery rubble and bury them so that Bea wouldn’t have to - he also collected what scraps of identifying possessions he could find, tucking them carefully in a pocket in case there was someone who would want them back.

They returned to Rivertown exhausted, and woke to a renewed assault, Thorne’s death twisted to a rallying point. Shay cursed her mentor’s shining recruit, wanted to shriek why - but if she questioned his decisions, she did it so quietly even she wasn’t aware. She scowled at maps and reports, tried to pretend her steps weren’t haunted by her losses. She told herself her decisions were rational, that her choices had always been hers even if she didn’t remember making them.

The Bureau managed to splinter their golden wall, and as Laney moved to repair it Cassandra slipped from the shadows to dart through the crack in their defences. Laney watched her step through, and thought about how laughably easy it would be to put a bullet in her back, for all that her hands trembled with old wounds. Liam had fallen for the last time rescuing those who would have been burned to nothing in the rooms below this girl’s home. Mages had been fleeing the mountains for years because of the things this young woman saw.

Laney closed her hand around the grip of her favourite pistol, and handed it over through the shimmering curtain. She wanted to say so many things - I do not forgive you, I could kill you but it wouldn’t be enough, so what would be the point? I hate you but you gave us our friend back, so here you go, a life for a life. I will live all my life hating you, but I will not be haunted by you. She said none of it, because if she tried she would break. Cass saw it in the swirls of gold around her, and gave her a grudgingly respectful nod. When Laney looked up from closing the gap she was gone, slipping away through the streets of Rivertown like a ghost.

It was Laney who strode into the negotiation room when Shay called for a truce, because she had the Quiet Branch’s respect even if she didn’t have their affection, and Sez trusted her to fight for the right things, these days, despite the Academy badge. She had Sez and Sally’s long thought out demands, their plans, her own hard won lessons and Rupert’s deliberate morality - and she had a secret waiting on the tip of her tongue.

In the dark of a hidden lab, Cass had whispered stories, clinical and aching, not sure if she wanted sympathy or just a reaction, and Rupert had passed them on. Shay snapped accusations, dismissals, grief - and Laney she remembered sunlight, warm on the back of her chair on a long ago day when Rupert told her the truth and broke her heart. She took a sniper’s steadying breath, and looked Shay in the eye.

“Do you know how Spider died?”

Falling is the bravest thing I know, Laney whispered at the funerals, at graves old and new, in the doorway of a cottage where an old woman wept like broken glass with old, delayed grief as Jill held her frail hands and Rupert hovered, stuffy with sympathy. She had broken like that, once, something jagged sitting under her heart that she wasn’t sure would ever go away even if the edges could be smoothed over time. Liam had fallen, hit the mountain stone and not gotten up, but the impact had shattered Laney too.

I will be brave, she whispered to herself, and Rupert squeezed her hand gently as she got to her feet. The desert sand shifted under her boots and she stood firm, bracing herself to deliver a blow she had never stopped reeling from. She watched the expressions around the fire twist, grief and mourning, bittersweet stories, and thought about the ripples that had spread from every fall in this fight. She would try to map it out, on sleepless nights - the way strangers whispered her brother’s name and murmured about the Dragon Slayer and the Giantkiller, the steady promises of the mountain folk: we can’t let their memories down. Laney wondered if they’d known how they would shake the world when they fell, but they weren’t the only ones.

Spider must have known that Thorne wouldn’t let betrayal live, but he’d taken the shot and hit the polished floor because he refused to watch more children burn for the sake of another man’s ambition. Bea had woken in a cold house, twice over, and hauled herself back to standing because she refused to let the monsters win, kept a map of every victory, every loss, every bitter step of her quiet war. Jill had gritted her teeth after every failure, every fading patient a new reason to keep trying no matter the weight on her shoulders.

Rosie and Susie had built Challenge from the wreckage of their home, an old mining village digging deep and refusing to be driven away, turning every broken family and nightmare into a rallying cry. Maid Marian had put her back to the mountains and walked away, the memory of smoke and snow on her heels until she forged something new in the back streets of St. John’s Port, had dared to invest her broken heart in a new set of faces and carve out support for the people the Bureau didn’t care about.

Rupert had been buried in the rubble of a cave in, been dragged out and lost months to Thorne’s secrets, taught himself to wear a civilian sweater like a uniform while they scrambled to find him, had stumbled through the door of the fish shop and been the spark that Sez turned into a beacon. So many people had come to the defence of Rivertown, against fire demons and Bureau soldiers, names Laney had known over Academy tables and ones she hadn’t, and some of them hadn’t gotten the chance to deal with the aftermath.

Laney had hit the plush carpet of the Mayor’s office, every limb burning, and pushed herself as close to standing as she could get and taken her best shot. She was long, aching years from the time when bravery meant bruised knees and scraped palms, dragging herself inch by stubborn inch up the tallest palm tree, meant letting herself fail a hundred times to learn to do it right.

Sometimes the bravest thing is falling, letting yourself try and knowing you might not succeed, that you might hit the ground hard enough to bruise, pushing yourself back up after to try again.

Sometimes it’s to keep breathing - to put one stumbling foot in front of the other until it feels like you’re filling your lungs with air not choking on ash.

I will be brave, Laney said, and breathed in.

#Leagues and Legends #my writing #L&L fic #It's another all the mountain vigilantes die series rewrite folks!#Laney sort of took this one over and I'm okay with that

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