From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
Time passes in a blur. None of it is truly believable, and she keeps expecting to wake up from this nightmare. But it is real; so so real. She moves through Snowcloak in a trance, surveying the damage that she would need to take stock of properly in the morning when there was light. She stops first at the Academy to check on those that were ushered into the school for protection, making sure they have what they need, as best as Halo is able to provide. It is chaos, but the people of Halo know how to take care of themselves, and there are those who have stepped up to ensure that others less capable are taken care of as well. It warms her heart to see the kindness of Halovians in the midst of all this.
It reminds her why she is doing this.
The Kraai is in a similar state, with some of her staff along with Korbin and Loren taking charge. There is little she can do to help with the healing, but it doesn’t take long for people to find her, for news to spread. And soon she finds herself directing people to rooms, walking them down the street to other houses, collecting furs and blankets to make sure they could keep the people warm as they slept on floors beside fireplaces.
She has no idea how much time passes. Eventually, one of the women finds her with a polite but rather firm suggestion that Weaver go sleep. She knows the woman well; a healer, and one of the ones who had long ago saved Weaver’s life. With a nod, Weaver agrees, though first she makes her way back into the Kraai for a bottle of whiskey and Loren.
She grabs the whiskey first, though he is not hard to find. She assumes he is as exhausted as she is. Though maybe that mage glass gives him energy as well. She doesn’t know, but she is glad it was him and not Zariah that grabbed it. Weaver takes his hand, leading him or dragging him out of the Kraai, expecting he won’t want to leave but refusing to leave by herself. Besides, at some point they were just too useless to be of any help.
She leads him back to her house a few doors down, the one place she selfishly hadn’t offered up as a base, knowing she needed somewhere quiet to go. In they go and up to her room. It is a mess, as one might expect, though only in a cluttered sort of way. Clothes strewn about, various knives laying on her furniture. She adds to the clutter, removing her scythe and her knives, kicking off her boots, and then collapses onto the bed. Never mind that she is disgusting, covered in blood and sweat. Never mind that she needs a bath. She cannot quite think, and all she can do is hold her head in her hands. ”What am I doing, Loren? Gods...what are going to do?” Her voice is quiet as her head swims.
Having work to do had kept Loren's mind off things. He'd ignored Korbin, for the most part, letting the other man take charge. The former Launceleyn was too worn out to do anything but lay his hands on the next wounded person and heal them.
Of course, it couldn't have been that simple. More than once, he had to venture out again to heal those too injured to be moved. Then, when his magic had become dangerously low, he'd switched to more mundane methods. Even his mageglass boosted powers had their limits, namely, his body.
Eventually, though, everyone was stable. So he'd moved on to making sure everyone was fed, clothed, and warm, and housed if needed. Losing track of the hours that passed, he powered through his exhaustion and despair.
When Weaver found him, he blinked, not understanding at first. The news had spread of her becoming the new acting Warden by then of course. So when she grabbed his hand he opened his mouth to protest. However, something made him hesitate, and in the end, he just allowed himself to be meekly led to a home he had to assume was hers.
As she brought him to her room, his eyes flicked over it, before returning to her. He didn't move to join her on the bed just yet. Instead, he just watched her, his own expression stricken, eyes red from tears that he'd shed when no one was looking.
It was only when she spoke that he finally sat next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "What people always do." His voice came out as a croak, raspy from the smoke and the fire and the horror of the day. "Figure out what needs doing and do it."
She sits on the bed like that until he comes to join her. As he speaks, she turns her head slightly so she can see him better, dropping one hand from her face to rest it on his knee. His eyes are red, and she wonders what he has been crying over. His family? Those that died? All of it? She does not judge the tears, though as of yet, none had come to her. She’d begun to wonder if she could cry at all anymore. After that morning with Korbin, when she could find the pain but not the tears. Even now, when she could smell the bodies that she’d burned so easily, when she could see the faces of those she loved hurt...still, there were no tears.
Weaver shifts, opens the bottle of whiskey, not bothering with glasses, and takes a swig before offering it to Loren. ”It sounds so simple. It sounds like something I would say.” A slight smile creases her lips, though it does not reach her eyes, and it does not last long. She cannot quite manage her usual humor. ”I am not a leader. I have never wanted to be Warden. I can handle organizing some people to rebuild but what do I do about the rest? About Neron? Zariah?” She is more concerned about Zariah than Neron, really. Neron would be easy enough to handle, though Morgan would not like Weaver’s current plan.
She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. ”Gods, I know you renounced them but they are still your family. I am sorry...I just. I never planned for it, but I couldn’t watch Zariah try to grab for power.” She would not let them hurt Halo anymore. Though of course, now it was her choices that had the potential to hurt Halo. There was so much she didn’t know, so much she didn’t have a clue how to address. Her mind swam with all she needed to do, and yet she couldn’t quite formulate a complete thought as she skipped from one thing to the next.
Unfortunately, Loren wasn't able to muster up a smile for Weaver. Instead, he just ran his free hand through his hair. "Maybe I've been listening." It came out in a quiet tone.
Forcing himself to focus on her, to be there for her, he took the bottle but didn't drink from it just yet. Instead, he met her gaze squarely. "It's good that you don't want this. I wouldn't trust a leader who wanted power for power's sake. Someone should only do this for the right reasons."
As she brought up his relatives, his expression twisted into something ugly and depressed at the same time. "Zariah can rot." The words came out with more venom than even he'd anticipated, and the hand that was not now rubbing gentle circles on her back had gone white knuckled against the bottle.
He had to take a deep breath, and only then did he take a long swig of the whiskey. "And I'm too close to this to be objective, because I would ask for mercy and understanding for Neron." He held out the bottle for her again.
Shifting so she could fit more comfortably against him, he bit his lip. "Listen...if you only did this to block Zariah, you can appoint someone else. This is not a burden you need to shoulder." The suggestion was quiet, but heartfelt. Turning, he reached up with his (hopefully) free hand to cup her gently under the chin.
She does manage a smile at that, and there’s a little more light to it even if it doesn’t last long. ”Well I was bound to rub off on you eventually.” There is something in that statement that sounds a little more like her, even if she had no idea who she was anymore. Warden Hale. It felt so strange, so wrong...and yet. And yet if not her, then who? Hadn’t she said it all? They were her people, and this was her home. She’d fought and hunted, bled and drank with them. She’d saved and been saved by them.
”Perhaps,” she says at the mention of Zariah, noting the venom in his voice. There were questions she needed to ask, though she doesn’t quite yet. ”And yet I cannot throw her to the Tundra, where she can strike another deal with the Eirachi. I can strip her of all titles and power, but I may make things worse by doing so. I have half a mind to leave her as Headmaster of the Academy only, but I am sure that will start a riot.” Still, Weaver has always preferred to keep her enemies close, where she is more likely to know what they are doing. To send Zariah away was to have no idea what the mage was plotting. She could rot in prison, perhaps, but did her crimes fit the punishment? Maybe Weaver needed to form a jury. They could decide.
She nods at the mention of Neron. ”I had him sent to a room in the Academy. He will not be treated as a prisoner. Though I make no promises, as I would like to speak with him first, he will likely receive such mercy. Which of course means Morgan will regret her decision to back me.” This is the problem with politics, though perhaps she can make Morgan see reason. Stripped of all title and power, Neron was little threat. He’d handed over his title and Weaver did not think he would be plotting to get it back, and she needed the information he could provide. After all, he’d done this job for two years.
She takes the bottle back, taking another swig, though not as large this time. The burn of the whiskey down her throat makes her feel alive, at least, something she sorely needs reminding of. He shifts, and she slides into the space he makes for her, surprised that he can still hold her after all she has done. After all she has just ripped out from underneath of him. ”Not only because of her, though she was the catalyst. I meant what I said. These are my people, and though I had no reason to dislike your brother, he made a choice that his entire region suffered for. I can’t sit by and watch Zariah and Neron tear Halo apart when I know I can do something about it. Maybe someone better will come along, because gods know I am not fit for this job, but until then? Until then I cannot and will not desert the people that I love.” She leans in to his touch though, closing her eyes slightly. She is thankful for the out he offers, but still, she cannot imagine simply giving up because it was going to be hard.
Again, even as Weaver smiled and joked, Loren couldn't bring himself to match her humor. Instead he just shook his head. "I'll refrain from making the obvious joke." He slipped his arm across her shoulders pulling her in close.
Which would make it all the easier for her to feel him tense as they continued to speak of Zariah. "I can't...I can't advise you on this." Biting down hard on his lower lip, he took several deep breaths. "But I can tell you that Zariah is no more popular outside Halo than she is inside. No one would mind if you exiled her."
Then he gritted his teeth. "If you don't send her away, then stripping her of her position as the head of the school would probably set a bad precedent." At that he gave her a helpless look, though one underscored by an icy fury.
Scrubbing his face, he felt tears threaten to fall again. Instead, he forced them back and just breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." The words were quiet, but filled with a deep and genuine gratitude. "He won't thank you. Either of us." Looking away, he sighed. "But I have so few people left."
At that, he shook his head, banishing the dark thoughts. Focusing on her again, he pressed his lips together. "Morgan has always struck me as reasonable. Direct, brusque, brutally honest, and not much one for long term thinking or political acumen, but reasonable." However, he couldn't help the doubt from creeping into his voice. Humming thoughtfully, he shrugged. "Perhaps a clean slate across the board might be the best approach?" He certainly didn't sound sure about that either.
"That seems like a good reason to me." At that, though, his expression grew guarded. Scooting away from her, he placed his hands in his lap. "People will want me gone too." Not able to meet her gaze, he simply toyed with a loose thread from a blanket.
She slips in against him as he tugs her in closer, content to be by his side, still amazed he’d even have her. Maybe they were finally even on that score, both shocked that the other wants anything to do with them. ”We could both probably use that joke,” she says, and in any other situation it would be with her usual mischievous grin, with that gleam in her amber eyes. Today or tonight (she has no idea what time it is) though, her humor is a flat thing, an automatic defense and nothing more.
She does feel him tense, and she lets out a breath, putting down the whiskey and tugging her hair out of its braid. Most of it had come loose long ago away, between the fighting and the aftermath of it all. She runs her fingers through her hair, feeling the grime that coats all of her, but it is nice to at least be able to pull at her hair and feel something at all. ”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask it of you.” And though he offers some advice, similar to what she was thinking, she doesn’t press it. Either Zariah would be exiled, or she would remain as the Headmistress of the Arcane Academy, though without her position in Halo’s government. There were two options, but she did not need to decide now.
At the mention of Neron though, she wraps her arms around him, squeezing. ”He doesn’t deserve death or even a prison cell for being an idiot. I understand, at least on the barest level, why he made the choice he did.” She just couldn’t sit by and let it affect Halo anymore. But the truth is, she wished none of it had happened. She would have been fine if the status quo had just stayed. Neron hadn’t been a bad Warden. Weaver didn’t even think Zariah had been particularly bad at her role. Some part of her longed for what might have been had things stayed the same.
In the end, Weaver just wanted to run the Kraai. Not a whole town.
He speaks of Morgan, and she nods into his chest, having a similar opinion of the Captain though with slightly less details. ”I can’t remove her. She supported me so long as she remains Captain, and besides, we both know there is no one better suited to that role.” She trusted Morgan to protect Halo. She had watched Morgan charge toward a man with mage glass with nothing but a warhammer.
He scoots away and she looks up at him, a little bereft as he moves away now, wondering if she’d finally tipped the scale and broke his good will toward her. But then he speaks, and she understands. ”I know,” she says softly, leaning forward to cup his cheek with her palm, kissing his forehead, despite the sweat and blood streaked there. ”Halo has been through enough upheaval right now, and I would like to keep what I can the same. You and Morgan have been by Neron’s side, and you know what has been happening where I do not. You the longest, and I suspect the closest. If nothing else, people can understand that I need the information you can provide.
“Besides, I watched you charge a man with mage glass. I watched you draw his attention to you, and I suspect I have you to thank that no one ever noticed me. We have you to thank because otherwise, Zariah might hold that mage glass. You are the best Healer we have, and no one else is better suited to the job you have than you. That said, the choice is yours Loren. You may stay as Healer, if you want, and I would have you in my cabinet, but if you’d rather leave the politics to others, you can simply be Healer. I will not ask you to do what you do not want to.”
Sighing, Loren scrubbed his face. Lowering his hand, he found himself unable to meet Weaver's gaze. "I can't. Not...not right now." He sounded a little lost in that moment.
Shaking his head, he bit his lip. "I'm glad you asked me. Honestly. But after what she did..." Voice trailing off, he took several deep breaths, trying to control the murderous rage he felt.
Managing to muster up a faint and sad smile, he squeezed her shoulders gratefully. "Thank you." Then he looked down at his lap. "He's going to be so pissed at me." It seemed ridiculous, in the face of everything, to worry about that, and he let out a bit of a hysterical laugh.
"I didn't say you should. She's a good captain. Just expect many disagreements with her in the future." He shrugged, not having a better answer than that.
As she moved towards him, he relented, leaning into the palm of her hand and her kiss. Kissing her forehead back, he laid his arm across her shoulders again. "What I want and what's right might not be compatible. Usually isn't." Rubbing his palm against his thigh, he gave her a sad look. "I can give you information and be a healer without being a part of your cabinet, no matter how much I might want to remain in my current position."
However, all the talk of what he'd done brought it all crashing down on him. Beginning to shake, he moved away from her again. "Sorry. I'm...gods." He kicked off his boots so he could draw his knees into his chest, hugging them tightly.
It is all she knows how to do, in moments like these. Hide the pain behind jokes, even when she should be feeling something. Gods, she’d done a good job, hadn’t she? Turned herself into The Scythe so fully that she barely thought twice about burning people alive. The thing that hurt more than realizing how little it affected her.
”Did you know they had a son?” she asks, her voice soft. There’s so much she doesn’t know about the family dynamic, though maybe now she needs to. It hadn’t felt like her business before, but maybe it had been. Maybe she’d been wrong to be so accepting without more questions.
She can’t bring him any comfort when it comes to Neron though. ”Yea,” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. She won’t lie to him and tell him it’s going to be okay. It’s not a conversation she’s necessarily looking forward to having, either, though dealing with Neron will be easier than Zariah.
Nodding at the mention of disagreements, a rather rueful smile crosses her face. ”Oh I am sure. I wonder how long it will take the Captain to regret her decision to back me.” They were not going to see eye to eye on some things, but hopefully they could find some balance.
She takes a breath. ”I need to talk to Morgan, and Korbin, and probably sleep so I can actually think. I am making no promises, but currently, I do not intend to remove you from your position.” She may find she had no choice, but perhaps it could be temporary. Though she was willing to stick up for Loren, who did not truly deserve to be lumped into his family.
He pulls away again, and for a moment she gives him space, though it is short lived. As he pulls his knees into his chest, she tucks herself up on the bed, sliding over to wrap her arms around him and pull him close. ”Hey. It’s all gone to shit, trust me, I know. But we’ll figure it out.”
"Yes." The word came out softly, even as Loren's expression grew pained and his jaw feathered with tension. "I helped raise Jace for a while. After Edy died. It was right when I came back from my...madness." He closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath that was suspiciously close to a sob.
Just squeezing her hand back, he shook his head, eyes still closed. Only when the subject of Morgan came up did he open them and meet Weaver's gaze again. "Just talk to her. She prefers the direct approach."
Sighing, he rubbed his temples. At least his hands were clean, a requirement for healing, even if the rest of him was filthy. "Don't stick your neck out for me." He let out a huff of bitter laughter. "I'll be alright. I'm always alright at the end of the day." Giving her a guilty look, he just shrugged.
When she followed him, he pulled away briefly. However, it was only a token resistance, and he swiftly relaxed into her embrace. "My nephew is dead, I killed people, overthrew my family, and I couldn't save those guards." It came out flatly, but it was obvious how much pain he was in.
The tears sprang to his eyes again, and he couldn't stop them from streaming down his cheeks. At least he was silent as he cried. "Sorry. I just..sorry. I know that's not the right way to think of it, and that you have a whole region to worry about now. Your home." He shook his head helplessly.
She listens, staying close, unable to imagine what it is like to lose someone you helped raise. But she knows what it is like to lose family, and she can begin to understand how he is feeling now. Begin, because she has never had to renounce her own name, never been forced to make that choice. Hale was a good name in Halo, and one she hoped she wouldn’t ruin now. ”Can you tell me about your family? All of it? Who is Zariah to Neron, because they didn’t seem like they would have a child together, unless they hid that really well. And Edy?” Some part of her hates to pry, hates to make him dig it up, but she needs to know, and maybe it’ll help him to get it off his chest. Maybe he can speak it all and leave them as ghosts to his past.
She nods. ”I asked her to come by the Kraai in the morning. I do plan to have a conversation with her.” There were so many conversations in her future when all she wanted was action. She wants to rebuild Halo, wants to organize the people. She doesn’t want to stop till it’s done, and yet, she has to stop. She has to take the time to get information she’d never before needed. She cannot make decisions when there is too much unknown.
”If I stick my neck out, it will be because I decide you are necessary to my council. I am a little loath to lose good people right now.” Perhaps it felt like it would be for him, but really, it was as much for her if that is the choice she makes. She cannot make final decisions, not yet, but she cannot help but ponder her options. It was not as if she could sit around and wait on these things. Either she established control quickly, or she risked someone else trying to take it from her.
He resists, though in the end he gives in to her. Sometimes the best thing one can offer is an embrace, a hug. There’s not a damn thing she can say to make it better. ”My problems do not diminish your own pain. At least you feel something. I burned them alive, Loren. I heard them scream, I smelled their flesh. And you know what I felt? Nothing. They deserved to die, because it was us or them, and I will choose us any day.” Him, her, Korbin, Noah, Kiada…the list of those still alive because of the things they’d done is long. Does it make it okay? No. But what else could they have done? ”It’s your home too, Loren.”
Biting his lip, Loren didn't respond to Weaver right away. Finally, he nodded. "I don't know exactly what you'd like to know." Sighing, he rubbed his palms against his thigh, clearly upset, angry, and nervous, all combining in an ugly ball in his stomach. "Zariah was the head of our family in Northaven. That meant she was supposed to be obeyed without question, otherwise we'd be punished."
His hands clenched into fists again before he relaxed them. "Edrei was our distant cousin, who was a relatively new arrival to Northaven. She was eaten by a landshark shortly before I regained my sanity. Zariah is a distant cousin too. My family had my father, who was murdered, my mother, who died giving birth to my sister Astra, my stepmother, who died giving birth to my half-sister Beatrix, my eldest brother, Wyatt, who was also murdered, and Neron." The words came out flatly, though it was clear he was struggling to keep himself together.
"Neron and Zariah struck up a romance right before we came to Caido. However...when Zariah was transported, she came from our future. My future, and Neron's. She was aged, and she had a five year old with her, Jace, who she claimed was her and Neron's child. That they'd been married." He shook his head, still not quite believing it. Then a fresh bout of tears came over him from having to bring up Jace, and all of Loren's other dead relatives.
It was not as much a relief as he'd hoped to talk about the council, given how wrapped up his family was in this mess. "Good." As she went on to talk about his own position, he nodded, exhaustion writ large on his features. "I'll do my best." He spoke in an uncertain voice.
When she talked about her own feelings, he uncurled from the ball he'd formed. Turning, he reached for her hands, simply holding them both in his. "I would choose us any day too. I just...can't get it out of my head." He trembled, as the shock and the adrenaline of the day started to catch up with him.
Flinching at her insistence that it was his home, he pressed his lips together. "I want to believe that. But...it's going to take even longer for people to accept me now. Maybe they never will." He didn't even sound upset about that, just resigned.
He gives her the story, and she listens, not interrupting as he goes through his family. Her hand finds his, her thumb stroking the clean skin of his own hands, leaving smears of dirt and blood behind. It is only at the mention of Zariah’s claim that her brow creases slightly. ”Claims?” she says, and there’s something vaguely disbelieving in that. ”Do you believe her?” Maybe it didn’t matter, in the end. The child was gone, and the belief was he was Neron’s son. The Eirachi had her child and her retribution.
So why did Weaver fear that it wasn’t over? Maybe it was. Maybe this was enough. The Eirachi had her child, Neron was dethroned. She needed to know if there was more to the bargain Zariah made with the Eiriachi. Had she traded her son just for a chance at the title of Warden? Or had there been more spoken? Yet to go to the Eirachi is to encourage yet more deals, with a debt she did not want to pay. Some things were best left alone, though Weaver was not sure if this was one of those things or not.
He takes her hands, and she leans into him, pressing her forehead to his. ”I wish I could get it into my head. What a pair we make.” He felt too much, and she too little. Together, they might be okay, but they could not share emotions or their lack. ”Maybe,” she admits quietly, realizing that she may lose him. That this may be the beginning of the end, that he may choose to leave. She can feel the pain of that, though, a crushing possibility she’d rather not live through. ”Perhaps without the shadow of your family, they can see who you are. I do not know, but you are stuck here until Deepfrost ends, one way or another.”
Letting out another one of those slightly hysterical half-laughs half-sobs, Loren shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it? He's gone, and the Eirachi thought it was true enough." It was an unintentional echo of Weaver's own thoughts on the matter, spoken in a broken and bitter voice.
Still holding her hands, he sighed. "I could've prevented this. At least in part." He bit his lip. "When Neron sent me to find mageglass, to prove I was worthy of his cabinet, I found it. Along with the cultists. I decided not to risk engaging them, but I should've...I don't know. Went back with a larger force." It hadn't seemed worth the price, but inaction had cost him far more.
"I am. But I can't help but worry, no matter what I do, that there will always be that shadow over me. Especially after...everything that happened today." He gave her a sad smile. "I've lived with it my whole life, though. It's a burden I know how to bear."
