Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 The sound of waves lapping at the shore broke it’s way through the high pitched ringing in her ears. A desperately long groan, almost like a growl, left her as pain let itself be known in every square inch of her body.

 The area around her was dark, wind rustling the leaves of bushes and small trees just ahead of where her blurred vision was pointed. Her head pounded, and her eyes squeezed shut again as she tried to move any part of her, aching and pain making her want to scream.

An arm slid up from her side, dragging through sand and stones and pebbles. Her feet were resting in the cold surf as the small waves shifted the torn hem of her pants causing her body to shiver, just creating more pain as she used all the effort she could stomach into pushing herself onto her back, the uneven ground uncomfortable and jagged in places.

 Stars, visible between the breaking dark clouds of a spent storm, sparkled on a dark blue background that faded to lighter shades toward the horizon. Was it East? West? How long had she been lying here? How did she get here? Where was she?

 She coughed, her chest throbbing and lungs expelling fluid that tasted salty and acrid as it splattered out of her. A metallic taste of blood came from her aching gums as she groaned again, the sounds around her an unintelligible mess mixing with the persistent ringing in her ears.

 Systematically she began trying to flex and move parts of her body, slowly and sluggishly. Her jeans were constricted along her legs, soaked through, and her shoes were heavy and filled with water; the long-sleeved thin wool shirt clung damply to her torso. One of her hands landed on the leather belt on her hip, it’s holster still full. Deep breathing as she stared at the slowly lightening sky helped to ease-- or at least, dull-- the pain of her body. The clouds streaked past, and she saw a cluster of four stars in the space between them.

 Memory flashed back of the open sea, stars appearing at dusk; A small sail boat loaded with supplies, and rain-- so much rain, and water filling the boat.

 “H-Henry?” She called, hoarsely and suddenly into the darkness, her heart jumping out against her chest. A cry of pain escaped her as she struggled to push herself up into a sitting position. “Henry!”

 Debris from the wreckage was scattered along the beach, and out against rocky outcrops in the surf some distance from shore she could see the silhouette of what remained of her vessel, it’s sails and mast gone. Panting through the burning and aching feelings in her limbs she started grabbing and lifting the flotsam and jetsam nearest to her, checking beneath and behind as the panic fully took hold of her.

 “Henry!” She called, unsteadily pushing her way to her feet and scanning as far as she could down the dark piece of coastline. One of her knees tried to buckle beneath her, and she noticed a tear through the denim as she shifted her weight, looking around.

 In the slowly encroaching dawnbreak she could make out a series of hills and mounds around her and a flat drop-off cliff about twice her height behind her that blocked off much of her view of the area of land immediately to the south. Further inland small and wind-beaten coniferous trees stood, the tallest ones probably near her own size.

 The wind blew past her, causing her to shudder from the cold again and reassuring her that her initial assumptions were correct: There’s not a damn thing on her body that isn’t hurting. The trees rustled and the small waves kept gently lapping at the shore, but before she could muster the energy to yell for Henry again the faint noise of something moving, and distant shouting, reached her.

 A handful of faint lights appeared over one of the smaller hills and she could make out the silhouettes of cavalry, the horses spooking at the crest of the hill as they came into view. Shortly after their appearance, foot soldiers rushed up to form ranks from behind.

 She could hear their shouting and confusion from where she stood; to her, a distance of somewhere just over 60 feet.

 To them, a distance at least ten times greater.

 “Commander!” A voice tense with the weight of maintaining a level head in the face of the unknown and the dire called abruptly. “Orders, sir!”

 Commander Martellis snapped out of his open-jawed stare. His dark brown eyes moved sharply to the man beside him. Captain Grant was clean-shaven, with sandy blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the back of his neck, his grey-blue eyes locking with the Commander’s gaze and silently encouraging him to return to form. “Calm your mounts! If they can’t be calmed, release them and form footranks!” Martellis barked, his own steed having submitted to his direction after it’s first scare. He wheeled now to look at the small troop of men behind him; he had taken only the night watch and the first shift as they were soon to wake when the report had made it to him of a massive vessel crashing upon the Barrier Stones and something that seemed to be alive on their shore.

 The younger soldiers among the troop, still fresh from farmland and new to the Coastal Watch, formed ranks under his order in remarkable fashion with the more experienced men; a feat worthy of praise given what they were witness to. Four of the six other mounted cavalrymen that were behind himself and Captain Grant dismounted at a safe distance, letting their scared horses run back down the road, hopefully back toward their paddocks at the barracks.

 “My god,” Grant breathed, breaking his composure as he stared toward the shoreline still, the massive dark form standing silhouetted against the pale horizon. “Did Hostenia send this… thing?”

“Quiet, Captain,” Martellis ordered through gritted teeth, trying to avoid the others from hearing. He brought a hand to scratch his tightly-trimmed, dark beard. “We don’t know- we’re to assess and send word back.” He cleared his throat, looking over his shoulder briefly at the alien form again. “First file, arm! Second file, hold!”

The first line of soldiers began assembling and arming their rifles, and he tried not to notice the shaking hands and spilled powder among the younger ones.

“Sir,” one of the second line militia called, voice audibly unnerved. “It called a signal, twice by my count-- thrice by Private Patts. Is it-- are we treating it as a hostile, sir?”

His mouth opened, a confident ‘Yes’ ready to leap as it always had before from his lips, only to be beaten back with the concussive force of surprise as a loud call came from the creature again, clearer now that they were out of the woods. Every soul stopped dead to stare as the words, “Help! Please!” echoed across the seaside hills as if it were cannonfire.

“Lord almighty,” Captain Grant swore aloud as he and the Commander corrected their horses again. “It’s a woman.”

Chapter Text

She shuddered again in the cold, trying to make sense of the movements of the shadows as they bustled atop of the hill. Her heart still beating practically in her throat, fully in panic at the thought that Henry could be lost.

“Help!” She cried, desperately. “Please!”

Aside from the two horses she could still make out everything went still for a moment. ‘I can’t move, they think I’m a monster’, she thought as she watched them more. ‘They’ll have guns, I can’t fight them off and look for Henry; I need their help.’

Another moment slipped by as stars continued to dim and vanish, her view of the countryside increasing as the light continued to grow. The two soldiers on horseback picked up an extra rider each and suddenly took toward her at a gallop, some of the soldiers following at a quick pace behind, but not enough to match the speed of those still mounted. The hill sloped gently toward the grassy ridge, dirt having eroded into the sea from weather and tide over time, and the two men holding the horses' reins seemed to be repeatedly correcting to keep them on target.

She slowly lowered herself, her bones and joints creaking and popping as she tried not to exclaim from the pain again; her hands and arms folded in front of her to try and keep her as small as possible. Once she was squat low the horses seemed to make for a steadier ride, though their riders seemed to become more hesitant.

‘Hang on, Henry,’ she thought, squeezing her eyes closed through the pain and the fear, pressing back tears. When she opened her eyes again she saw the four riders dismounting, two remaining with the horses and attempting to calm them, two approaching her at a brisk, stiff walk. She watched one of the men draw a saber, and tried not to audibly sigh.

At under 8 inches tall, it wouldn’t do him much good should things become aggressive; but men will do what they will do, and she couldn’t blame them for wanting some sense of safety.

She could make out their features and general dress now, dark green double-breasted coats with some kind of accents she couldn’t quite see the color of in the low light, and black pants leading into what looked like tall, white socks with buttons up the side. As they approached closer she could make out their expressions, and her eyes darted back and forth between the two to see who would speak first.

They came to a halt about four feet from her, the slope they were on just roughly below her eye level while they stared at her. She tried not to squirm from their gazes, her legs ready to collapse under her. A pause that felt like forever passed, and just before she was about to give up and speak, the small bearded man on the right spoke tersely.

“Identify yourself,” was all he managed, though it was loud enough for her to hear and carried command in it. She turned her head briefly to tip her less-ringing ear toward them in case he meant to continue, as she had been led to expect some kind of spiel, but she didn’t have the patience or stability to wait and see.

“My name is Melanie, my boat was destroyed in a storm and my companion is missing,” she said, her eyes locking on the dark-haired man with a beard who had spoken to her. She tried to keep her voice level and lower than she would otherwise speak, but it was obvious the volume was still enough to frighten the men and their horses. “I need help finding him, please--”

The man beside the one who had spoken had taken a step back when she had started her reply, but the first one raised a hand and shouted back to her, louder than before. “You are a trespasser on the lands of the Vogunti Nobility, and an unknown person to our ranks and our people,” he began, hesitating notably on the word ‘person’. “You will have to be detained and questioned, as per our laws--”

Her body silently screamed in pain as she grimaced, reaching for the leather holster on her hip as her brain insisted the truth; she had no time to waste with these formalities. Both men jumped as she drew a dagger easily the full size of either of them with one hand, the blonde man holding a saber moving to step in front of the dark haired man, giving him time to pull his own sword from its scabbard.

She dropped to one knee, grunting with effort as she placed her other foot firmly before her and pushing a closed fist into the ground, her other hand gripping the dagger tightly, it’s point just below her chin as she pressed her hand over her heart and she stammered, breathing heavily through what Henry had made her practice.

“Under stars and sun, I pledge loyalty to your command-- from… from head to hand to heart to thee, my life is laid plain in service, not to be bought, not to be-- not to be traded, not to be given to any but to whom I serve. I, Melanie, pledge this oath in honour of court, of kingdom, of country. Under stars and sun.” She bit her lip, her eyes landing on the dark haired man again, both of the doll-sized soldiers holding their swords out toward her.

She didn’t have time to wait on what may have been a proper reply, or any kind of signal that she had messed it up somehow, and simply plowed on, begging as she held the tip of the knife to her own throat. “Please-- help me and I will cooperate with any law, any demand you have of me. Any wish you make I will grant-- I have to find Henry, please.” The dark haired man stared at her, mouth agape and a look of utter confusion across his features. The blonde glanced quickly at him before training his eyes again on her, and she could just make out the word ‘Commander’ between the two.

“Please,” she breathed, as another moment passed, and she watched the two men exchange a look before lowering their weapons.

“Have you searched this shore yourself?” The dark-haired man called, the blonde one speaking at a volume she couldn’t make out to him, gesturing faintly toward the two soldiers manning the horses nearby.

Melanie shook her head. “I had only managed to stand just before your men came upon me, I didn’t want to move in search in case it caused you to attack.” The two men exchanged more inaudible words and she grit her teeth, fighting against the urge to just break away from this time-sink and go looking for herself.

“Place your weapon on the ground, here, slowly. The Captain will gather our men and begin searching the coastline, but you must remain here while we search.”

She was sure the look of disappointment and worry that came across her face was clear, and her mouth opened briefly to argue before she bit her bottom lip again, turning her eyes away and slowly lowering the dagger. She sighed, looking back up to nod at the man and watch for any direction as she leaned forward and carefully placed it on the grass to the side of them. The men were still talking quietly, almost silently, to each other while watching her closely.

Moving back into the kneeling position of before, she braced herself with both hands on the ground. The group of other soldiers, save for a few still at the top of the hill, were finally now approaching where the two holding the horses were standing, their frightened eyes darting away rapidly as she met them.

“Sir,” she began in a whisper, and halted as he raised a hand.

“Your concern is plain,” he called, flatly. “The men will search, and should they find your companion they will report the news back as swiftly as they can.”

“Is he the only one you traveled with?” The blonde man shouted at her, his voice sharp. She nodded.

“Yes,” she said quickly, eagerly grasping for what help she could get. “He’s a sailor, a strong swimmer, but I’ve no idea how far from shore we were when the boat went down-- it would’ve been a longer distance for him.”

Her voice quivered and she coughed, bringing a forearm up to cover her mouth and nose as she blinked back tears. The men exchanged another look, but she couldn’t tell if they spoke.

“A longer distance?” The blonde one called.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” she said, “he’s your size-- I believe he’s from here. I was bringing him home.”

The men seemed startled at the response. “What was his name again?” The dark haired man shouted.

“Henry, Henry Lemuels,” she said, leaning forward without realizing as she tried to read their expressions. “Do you know him? Has he been found already?”

The two men exchanged a few more quick words before the blonde ran off toward the men and the horses, and the dark haired man looked up toward her again, stepping back almost subconsciously. “The name isn’t familiar,” he shouted, “and no one else has been found so far tonight.” She grimaced and turned her face up toward the sky as she blinked back more tears. “We’re sending the men out to look, as the sun breaks within the hour we should be able to find him if he’s along the coast.”

She took a deep, shaking breath as she tried to hold herself upright against the exhaustion and the pain. She looked down with surprise as the man shouted back to her again, unprompted. “I know it pains you, but we can not allow you to search. The people-”

“Will panic,” she conceded, tiredly, offering a weak smile of understanding.

“Yes,” he called, quieter this time; softer. “My command is over men trained for maritime disasters and rescues, should this bring you any comfort. Beyond that, I must ask that you bear with the worry for just a bit longer.”

She felt the hot streak of tears leave both her eyes and she nodded again, blinking and turning away. “I’m sorry,” she offered through a whisper. “Thank you.”

The two horses took off in separate directions, eight to ten men split between them, pairs breaking off every several feet to head toward the beach. She allowed her legs to collapse under her, her hip hitting the sand and pebbles and her arms moving out to brace her.

Chapter Text

Martellis had been watching the Captain’s horse and whoever Grant had chosen as second in command from the seniors among the Night and First shift’s men begin their scouting when the giant woman suddenly fell over, her legs sliding out with a terrible sound of dragging the round smooth rocks over each other as she fell onto her elbow.

“Miss?!” He yelled, his instinct to run toward someone in need of help taking him several feet closer before the fear of the massive woman put him back into his place.

“Sorry,” her voice, ragged from pain and exhaustion, carried oddly to him from her gargantuan frame. She looked as though she was going to speak again, but a flinch of pain stopped her.

Her head was much closer to level with him now, and he guessed that from her chin to the top of her forehead, he was likely the same height as her face. Dark brown hair was-- proportionately to her gargantuan size-- short along the side of her head; the hair on top wavy and twisted, still damp and full of sand and small debris, falling to about the bottom of her right ear. Her attire was bizarre in style; dark, thick pants that were torn at knee and hem, and a long-sleeved, dark red shirt that looked like a thin, knitted sweater across her large frame. Her feet had short-laced boots on them, with strange soles and bizarre patterns across fabric instead of leather. The Commander frowned, fighting the most overwhelming urge to shudder or squirm he had felt since his training had begun nearly two decades prior. He watched her trying to turn her head to see the searchers, her eyes darting, maddened with worry.

“I am Commander Peter Martellis, of the Eastern King’s Watch,” he shouted, almost involuntarily. It was the only instinct he really had in these moments; distract as much as possible. She turned to look at him, her massive brown and green orbs of eyes falling on him. She smiled through her concern and hurt.

“Melanie Barnes,” she offered, hesitating a moment. “I believe it’s customary to shake hands but I was warned that that would probably not be the ideal first move.”

In spite of himself, he laughed. Her speech was oddly stilted, as if poorly practiced and forced, but he placed the blame for it firmly on the amount of pain she must be in; the large, dark-haired woman was battered and bruised, a gash in her head full of sand and pebbles, and bruises becoming more and more visible as light grew and time passed. The odd clothing she was wearing was torn in places, crusted with salt and sand and other debris, more cuts and scrapes on her flesh beneath.

He hesitated a moment as she continued to regard him before he took several steps forward, sticking out his hand. “It would be proper for myself to make the first move, then.”

Two large eyebrows lifted in surprise as she watched him, before her eyes dropped a moment and she smiled lightly. “Your bravery should be commended,” she breathed, and he watched her take a quick and uneasy glance around before slowly lifting her freer arm and offering an extended finger to him. He tried to maintain confident eye contact as he grasped the wrinkled, textured nub and gave it a firm shake, standing back and folding his hands behind his back. “Sorry,” she whispered, after nodding to him in affirmation. “I’m not in the most pristine condition.”

Another short laugh escaped him, and he coughed into the back of a hand to cover it up. Shouting came from down the beach as some of the older soldiers yelled at the younger ones, both of them turning to see them staring in fascination at their interaction.

“I apologize for their lack of discipline,” he called, frowning.

“Don’t, they’re under considerable strain,” she said, her eyes scanning over the men at work and down the beach as the light was making it easier and easier to see. He had been taken aback by the way she spoke to him, but she wasn’t paying enough attention to notice.

“Their training prepares them to work under strain,” he shouted, in a correctional tone.

“Well, if their Giant Woman On The Beach drills haven’t sunk in yet…” she offered with a tired chuckle, before grimacing and turning to him sheepishly. “Please, Commander, my sincerest apologies-- you deserve more respect than I spoke with.”

“Correct,” he shouted, adding softer afterwards: “Appreciated.”

“With your permission sir, I’d like to adjust my position. Ideally so you wouldn’t have to yell and I could try to focus my attention on anything but what’s happening,” she asked after a moment, and he could see the discomfort plainly on her features as she watched the search from afar.

“I’ll need your plan first, unfortunately,” he responded. He wasn’t anywhere close to at-ease with Melanie, and couldn’t trust that the large woman wouldn’t just take off.

She leaned up enough to free her other arm from beneath her and gestured as she spoke, pointing from alongside him, down toward the surf directly in front of him. “I’d like to turn and lie down so my head and shoulders could be on the grass, the rest of me can stretch out across the beach.”

“Granted,” he said nodding, and stepped back a bit in restrained awe as she struggled to turn her massive, damaged form. The earth shook faintly beneath him as her back came up alongside him before reclining, braced on her arms until she could lie down on the grass. He watched as her closed eyes flinched with waves of pain as she tried to stretch herself out, the trails from her earlier tears having cleared through the layer of dirt, grit and possibly blood on her face.

“Thank you,” she offered in a whisper through pained breaths that echoed and whistled deeply within her massive body. He allowed himself to shudder before trying to distract himself, turning away from her to survey the men from the distance they were at, more shouts floating faintly up the beach as the ones who had stopped to watch the motion the longest were called back to action.

“Melanie,” he called, after a moment.

“You can lower your voice to a regular level, Commander,” she responded quietly, her eyes opening but looking at the sky, watching as it almost completed fading from dark to lighter blue. “My apologies for making you shout so much.”

“Apologies, and thanks,” he offered, clearing his throat, and trying to return to a normal volume. “Melanie,” he began again, “I was wondering how you knew the Knight’s Pledge.”

“Henry,” she replied. A moment passed briefly before she continued. “He had made me practice it-- a lot-- for when we arrived here, to help… ease tensions.”

Martellis started at the name again, though Melanie was not watching to notice. He chewed the corner of his lip a second before responding. “How do you mean?”

“Well, for some reason he thought my presence might cause issues,” she responded lightly, chuckling as she closed her eyes again and tried to adjust her legs, one obviously causing her significant pain to move. “He was worried I’d be attacked on sight.”

Martellis’ thoughts were swirling around any number of implications, so it startled him when her head suddenly turned to look at him; a bizarre sight from that close.

“Was it, more or less, correct? Or am I going to be extra-arrested?”

He stared oddly before turning away again, trying to stifle a laugh. This woman was strange, but the humor was putting him a little bit less on-edge. “It was, more or less, correct.” He said back, and he heard her give a breathy chuckle and felt her head turn back toward the sky.

“Commander!” A shout came from the south of them, and Melanie gave a slight grunt of pain as she tried to adjust position.

“Don’t move,” Martellis commanded her as he turned to see Captain Grant riding back, his horse still tugging at the reins in an attempt to direct away from the giant. “Grant, report!” He shouted, when it was obvious Grant could coax the horse no closer without too much risk.

“Debris stops down the south side of the shore at roughly the fourth runoff-- Keely’s, I’m certain. No sign.” Grant’s shouting reached them, and he literally felt through the ground Melanie’s flinch of worry and disappointment.

“Redirect your men to the north side and expand the search distance!” Martellis shouted back, trying to ignore the fidgeting behind him. Grant seemed to hesitate, before gesturing silently but hugely with one arm at the giant legs laying across the beach. “...Go around!” The Commander yelled, trying to make it sound less ridiculous than it was.

“Yes, sir!” Grant called in reply, his horse happily turning to run in the other direction with him as he shouted new orders to the men on the north beach.

“Should I-” Melanie began, her voice quivering again.

“Stay where you are,” he said, trying to work himself out of the voice he used on his men, and trying to recall all of the skill he had at working with the public-- though he wasn’t sure if she counted as such. “The men will work around you, if you move you’re likely to have my Captain thrown off his horse.”

“Then I would be extra-arrested,” she offered with feigned seriousness. He smirked to himself, rolling his eyes.

“An absurd concept, but this is admittedly an absurd situation.”

“Breaking new ground in a foreign land, my parents would be proud,” she offered quietly, and he couldn’t help himself; he laughed heartily. Melanie also laughed, briefly, before swinging her far-side arm over her mouth as she coughed and sputtered, wheezing slightly at the end.

“When I have spare men I’ll see what we can do to get some barrels of water brought to you,” Martellis offered, turning to look at her again. Her lips were dry, shriveled and cracking. She had likely swallowed sea water, and was dehydrated.

“Thank you, Commander Mart-,” she began, before a gunshot rang out from the northern side of the beach. Her arm slid to prop her up, and it was her turn to face her back to him as she scanned the activity along the shore.

“Stay down!” He tried to command, but it was too late. He shouted up at her, “it was a signal for signs of potential rescue, not that they had found anyone.”

“What’s the sign for finding a person?” She asked. The desperation, maybe even hope, was back in her voice.

“Lie back down, please, and rest-- you’re hurt,” he called, dodging the question. Her head scanned back and forth slowly, she was fixated again.

Grant and the soldiers from the south side beach were approaching quickly, the horse still trying to tug as a suggestion of a different route, but lazier this time. Two more shots went off, somewhere around a bend, obscured by jagged rocks, and Martellis raised a hand toward the Captain to signal a hold. Grant quickly ordered two of the soldiers to come hold the reins near the bit, raising a hand back toward Martellis in acknowledgement.

Martellis watched carefully, trying to measure his words before some kind of disaster struck. “They found him, but you have to stay here-- I can stay here and send the Captain to see if--”

“Please,” she begged, turning quickly toward him, her head a full three times his height above him. “Please, let me go-- let me see if he’s ok, I promise-- any other thing you ask, I’ll do, but please just let me see him.”

Martellis staggered back in fight at the motion of this giant woman now looming over him, his hand falling quickly back onto the hilt of his sword. His hand raised automatically to signal a hold again as he heard Grant giving orders, and he knew the men with him were loading their guns or positioning them at the ready.

He looked up into her pleading face as the first ray of sun came bouncing across the choppy surf of the bay, and took a deep breath.

“Captain!” He yelled, his eyes still locked on Melanie’s as she flinched, her eyes not leaving his despite fear coming across her features; looking back later, he would realize she was waiting for him to give the order to fire on her. “Maintain position, once clear, ride to the scouts on the hill and monitor for potential onlookers.”

She blinked at him, frozen.

“I don’t know how fast you think you can move with the damage you have, but I doubt I could keep pace either way; You’ll have to walk at my pace if--” He started, trying to plan it out for her, but she quickly adjusted herself, cutting him off as she pulled her legs back under her with a grunt of pain. “Melanie!” He shouted firmly, but she moved her hands in front of him in an odd gesture, one flat and face up and the other cupped open around the air above it. He looked from it to her as she asked:

“Permission to carry?”

It was a desperate ask. She was desperate. So much time she could’ve possibly been looking for Henry herself, spent instead trying not to make anything worse. She looked at Martellis, her hands still open as he seemed to suppress an extreme amount of fear.

“Commander!” Came a yell from Captain Grant.

“Permission granted,” Martellis barked instantly, taking a step forward but not knowing what else to do.

“Arms up,” she said, her voice louder now with anticipation and adrenaline. He stuck his arms slightly up, hesitantly, but her hand moved in gently regardless, sliding around his chest and torso and lifting him quickly enough that she could move her other hand beneath his feet for stability before he could kick and flail.

“Hold fire!” He yelled in near-panic as she stood, noticeably unsteadily from the pain, and took a first gigantic, staggering step forward. “Hold fire!!”

His heart was beating against his chest so hard he thought he was being punched. He was facing her torso, and she pulled him closer to herself, granting him a bit more stability among the extremely bizarre, massive and unsettling movements. Her fingers around his torso were closed enough to offer him protection and a feeling of safety, but loose enough that he could spin around.

“The grass!” He shouted at her, and she took a step up off of the sliding rocks of the beach and onto the glistening green carpet instead, improving her footing and moving her further from endangering the men still working the beach, some of whom were now scrambling to get out of the way. “Slow! Watch your feet!”

He looked up to see she was already doing that, though she didn’t respond to him other than to give him a brief squeeze with the hand around his torso. Unsure if it was involuntary or acknowledgement, he turned forward again, holding a hand out. “Clear the way! Hold fire!”

Melanie took the black rock outcropping at the point in a single stride, wobbling slightly as she landed hard on the more injured leg and took a second to steady herself, her head turning widely as she scanned the new area of beach ahead.

Martellis tried to clear the fog of fear from his mind in order to pinpoint where the signal had come from, but Melanie saw it first-- a cluster of 4 men gathered around something on the beach, all of them staggering to their feet at the sight of her.

He didn’t need to give her any direction; she took a few steps forward to close the gap a bit more, one of the men around the discovery backing up into the surf out of fear. About 50 feet away from them, she dropped to a knee roughly, her hands closing lightly around Martellis as he grabbed for support from the sudden jolts, and then she lowered him to the ground, holding as steadily as possible and keeping her open hand pressed gently against him for support until he was able to convince his legs to move him to the beach.

Her hands hovered a moment near him, until he could prove to her that he could stand on his own, and he gestured for one of the soldiers to approach him as he took confident, strong strides forward. He glanced back to watch Melanie’s hands retreat back to her lap as she sat, worry across every inch of her massive features as she watched him.

Her breathing was heavy, walking was significantly more painful than she should’ve risked, but she had to know; was Henry ok?

Her eyes stayed focused on what little she could see of the form between the men, and Martellis dropped to his knees instantly once he was next to it. She could only see feet, small boots laying at a splayed angle on the sand, and she cursed at herself in her mind for not remembering what he was wearing when they were on the boat.

Eyes were on her from all around, and only two of the soldiers closest to Martellis were looking at him, talking in voices she couldn’t hear. Suddenly one of them held up a sand-stained red vest, gesturing to it with a shrug and pointing, and her hands lept up to cover her mouth as tears started filling her eyes. It’s Henry, they were holding his life jacket.

Chapter Text

The men around her jumped at the sudden, massive movement, some of them scrambling several steps away from her. Martellis turned and waved at her before holding a hand up like he was signaling soldiers. She made the same gesture back in smaller movements, and they went back to their work, Melanie’s breath and heartbeat the only things she could hear as she watched.

“He’s conscious!” Martellis called over his shoulder. “Stay there while we assess!”

“Is he ok?” She asked, her voice quaking, and after a second she heard violent coughing.

Without thinking, she fell forward onto her hands and knees, immediately closing a good 15-20 feet closer between herself and Martellis’ men as he quickly waved them off, trying to point them toward the grass instead of the sea, but one of them just heading in whatever direction seemed fastest to get away. He himself turned and stood, staggering back to try and give space as she took two, maybe three strides at best with her arms before she was over them.

“Henry? Are you ok?” She asked, looking down at him. He coughed again, trying to call to her. “I can’t hear you, hang on-” she muttered quickly in panic, bracing her hands on either side of him as Martellis moved out of their way, and she lowered herself over Henry, her ear facing down toward him.

“I’m alive,” his voice croaked into her ear before coughing more.

“That’s not what I asked,” she said impatiently, tiredly, ignoring the stares of the soldiers who she was inadvertently facing.

“You look like hell, so I’m at least better than you,” Henry managed to get out. Martellis, standing to the side, just boggled at the exchange; they spoke so casually, like two old friends.

“You asshole,” she whispered, smiling with relief, tears threatening to spill down her face. “You utter piece of shit; you better feel better than me-- do you know what you put me through?”

Henry laughed hoarsely. “You would’ve been ok if--” he started, before coughing more.

“If what?”

“If you wore your--” he started, and they finished together; his tone gloating, and hers completely unamused.

“--lifejacket below deck.” She reached up with a hand to wipe her tears as she swore at him under her breath.

“Crying for me? You’ve already gone and--” he stammered through some coughs, “--fucked everything up that badly, hey?”

“Commander!” Screamed Captain Grant as he approached on horseback, coming upon the scene and staring at Melanie’s face as it hovered sideways above the beach, on her hands and knees like a bizarre animal.

“Hold, Captain!” Martellis yelled back from the other side of her.

“Yeah,” Melanie muttered, eyes landing on Grant’s hand as it went for a pistol on the hip opposite his saber. “I haven’t been shot at yet but that could change literally in, like, seconds.”

“Speak proper, there’s officials around,” Henry scolded, closing his eyes and grunting with pain. “We’re pretty sure at least my arm is broken, by the by.”

“At least?” Mel asked, panicked again as she leaned up to turn her head to look at him.

“Calm down, I’ve been through worse shipwrecks,” he replied through gritted teeth, trying to shift his position. He took a steadying breath and shot a pained smile up at her. “This one time, wound up with a real crazy woman who rescued me--”

He started coughing again as she shook her head with a relieved chuckle, pushing herself back up into a sitting position. “He’s clearly delusional, Commander, he needs medical attention immediately.”

“Hands in the air,” Henry shouted. “Peter won’t shoot you, but Daniel might.”

She shot him an extremely confused look as she slowly put her hands up beside her head, and he responded by gesturing with his head toward Martellis. “Commander and Captain, though I’m guessing on Captain.”

“They told me they didn’t know you,” she replied, bluntly. Martellis had a hand toward Grant, and was watching the woman closely.

“Standard practice,” Henry grunted, trying to turn his head more. “Move back and let them work now, don’t cause much more trouble.”

“She’s been good so far, Lemuels,” Martellis said to Henry, but Melanie was still able to make it out.

“You’re a kind liar,” Henry replied.

“I think a gag is in order,” Melanie grumbled, turning to check around her and watching some soldiers move out of the way. “Sorry,” she breathed, grimacing at them as she moved to sit back, groaning quietly with pain.

"Lower your hands, keep them on your lap," Martellis shouted, returning to Henry's side and gesturing for the previously retreated soldiers to rejoin him.

"Yes, sir," she managed through another grunt of pain. Furious movement to her right caught her attention as she watched the Captain dismount, handing the reins to another as he marched with purpose toward the Commander, his pistol still in hand. He walked across in front of her, ignoring her completely as if daring her to try and move, and the Commander stood to address him with a firmly blank expression.

Martellis folded his hands behind his back and stared down Grant, trying to gauge what the Captain's emotions were while projecting a neutral expression. 

"Commander," Grant said, trying to keep his breathing under control.

"Captain," Martellis replied, nodding, his eyes making a very quick move toward the pistol but not addressing it further. Grant immediately began to casually replace it in the holster. A tense pause lingered, Martellis overly aware of the captive audience-of-one that towered above them.

"We belayed orders to ensure you were safe," Grant offered, his breathing returning to normal and the red receding from his face. "Shall we continue your last command, sir?"

The order may as well have been given years ago, Martellis' mind having been completely cleared by the adrenaline of the ride he got just minutes before. Grant saved him, as he often did, from the awkwardness of admitting such.

"I can escort the night-shift men back to the line in wait on the hill, myself and First Lieutenant Wells can mount and get word back to the barracks while the night-shift return to barracks to rest, and the others begin a foot patrol and start setting blockades on the roads."  

"Do that, leave me a reserve of six with the medics and send Wells to the barracks with word that the situation is currently under control," Martellis said, lifting his hat briefly and running a hand through sweat-dampened hair. "He is free to give them the details of the events under instruction that it does not leave the barracks, and it is at his discretion if he trusts those details among the rest of the brigade." Martellis turned to survey the men on the beach, the braver ones moving forward and coming closer to the massive woman whose shadow was reaching practically to the tree line. "I want you to take three men to the patrol site nearest to us and place three or more barrels of water on a cart to return here with."

"...Any preference as to whom?" Grant asked after a moment of hesitation.

"Pick any three that didn't run into the ocean at the sight of her," Martellis breathed, shaking his head. 

"Try not to do anything extremely impulsive while I'm gone," Grant breathed back before stepping back and snapping into a sharp salute. "Yes, sir!"

Martellis returned the salute and left Grant to bark orders at the men on the beach, turning to address the field medics working on Henry who was occasionally making small yelps and grunts of pain.

"We're getting a board ready for you, we may need to put you out before moving you if the splints are causing you this much discomfort though." The eldest of the medics on hand, Lionus Ethridge, was adjusting the sling bandage he had put Henry’s broken arm in, speaking to him as he did.

“Wait until the last possible moment, please,” Henry begged quietly, gritting his teeth as the two other medics finished strapping a splint to his leg. His coughing had subdued substantially after being given some water, though it had pumped acidic, ocean-water-tainted bile out of his guts at first.

“Will do, but only if you’re not in too much pain,” Lionus said, a wavy lock of brown hair falling over his face as he adjusted his uniform’s hat. “I’d give you something for it now, but it’s too risky if we’re going to be putting you out for the move. Best I can offer is distraction.”

“I’ll take that,” Henry muttered with a pained chuckle as they adjusted his leg one last time. Lionus’ bedside manner was fantastic for a field medic, and he flashed a charming smile at Henry with a nod. “You can ask me anything,” Henry offered, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to settle again.

“How about you and I chat instead, Lemuels,” Martellis said, taking a step over and looking down at him, gesturing for Lionus to stand down.

“Absolutely, Peter-- Commander, so I’m hearing. Congr-- Congratulations on the promotion.”

Lionus flicked a concerned look to the Commander, Martellis locking eyes for a moment to stop the man from speaking. Martellis had been in this position for three years now. Lionus began winding the remaining bandage between his two hands with practiced skill, briefly interrupting the conversation. “Do you need any medical attention, Commander? Are you feeling alright?”

“No, Ethridge, thank you. Nothing of note has happened to me, please continue your duties with the others,” Martellis said offhandedly, flinching at the stare that Lionus openly gave him before remembering his place and saluting.

“Yes sir, at your command.”

“Good man,” Martellis said, flashing an appreciative smile before turning back to Henry and kneeling down beside him. “Thank you for the congratulations, it was a proud moment certainly.”

Henry nodded, “I suspect there’s a lot of questions you’ll be wanting answered, in an official capacity.”

“When you’re on a medical cot and being tended to properly, after some rest, water and food,” Martellis said with a soft sigh. In truth, he knew he would possibly be forced to concede the duty of interrogating Henry to a higher official from the capitol, and there would be room to scrutinize him or his men if any of them may have given Henry any kind of an advantage by preparing him first. “What questions do you have, in the meantime?”

“Is she going to be safe?” Henry’s blue eyes met the Commander’s dark brown as he let the question softly leave his lips with a weight of concern, and secrecy. The two medics still trying to check him for any more wounds shared a nervous glance between themselves, their eyes in turn darting up to the massive form just slightly down the beach.

“She has the same rights as any unannounced foreigner,” Martellis said.

“Peter,” Henry pressed.

“I will do everything I can, but this is beyond my grasp and will be out of my control. The second that word of this makes it to the Guard Ranks and the Capitol, I have to accept that at the end of the day I am just a Commander in the smallest branch of our military. My power is limited,” Martellis offered, locking eyes with the worried medics and shooing them away. They nodded in return and stood up swiftly, both backing up quickly and looking between each other and the giant woman once more, unsure where to go other than further away, up the beach.

Martellis was about to snap and correct them to follow Ethridge when he heard a shout from behind him, in Lionus’ voice.

“Miss?”

Chapter Text

“Miss?”

Martellis could practically hear the necks of his men snapping to stare at the field Doctor who had just shouted, and he did his best to casually turn and watch what was unfolding behind him. Henry grunted as he tried to lift his head to watch in concern.

 Melanie blinked down at the man shouting up at her; she had been watching the waves and trying to identify some of the floating pieces of debris and the scattered items nearby to distract herself from her growing discomfort of her slowly-drying clothing and the aches and pain in her muscles and joints. He had managed to walk almost directly up beside her, and was staring almost straight up.

 “Mind if I take a look at your injuries, Miss?” He shouted up after a moment of waiting for her to respond. He was in a lighter, grey-green outfit that seemed more like field attire compared to the almost dress-uniform style of the Commander and Captain.

 She glanced at Henry and then Martellis in surprise and confusion, and received no immediate sign from either. She turned back and nodded. “Oh, please,” she offered quietly with a surprised stammer. “How, um--”

 “Probably best to rinse them as best you can for me, first, if you would please Miss,” he directed, a hand cupped around one side of his mouth. He gestured with the hand that was holding the bundle of bandages toward the sea. “It’s too far to walk to a river, so it’ll have to be salt water for now, sorry to say!”

 She smiled, nodding. “I understand,” she said, turning back to the Commander again, who simply waved twice with the back of his hand and turned back to Henry for their inaudible conversation. She took it as a signal to start following this man’s direction. “You may want to step back, I’m not that steady.”

 He turned quickly and trotted several long steps away before snapping back to watch her. Melanie’s eyes gazed over the beach, the six reserve soldiers that the Captain had left behind were simply staring from their waiting position up on the grassy ledge. She blushed, her eyes turning downward to watch her own hands and limbs move sluggishly, desperately trying to hide her embarrassment of being such a spectacle. 

 “Anyone not currently active can begin gathering or documenting wreckage debris!” Martellis shouted, and the men waiting on the sidelines abruptly began to move, giving her a wide berth as they did so. She started slightly as she moved to stand up and saw the eager doctor start trotting toward her casually again, gesturing to the water like he was directing a plane.
 
 She walked directly into the ocean with three wobbling steps, letting the cold salt water fill her shoes again as she squat above the small waves. She dunked her hands into the surf and watched the sand and dirt start to lift off, letting them ring and scrub each other before splashing water up her arms.

 “It stings a bit, but that’s probably better than fresh water at this moment for you, Miss!” The medic yelled from the shore behind her after she let out a pained hiss.

 “Melanie is fine,” she said back, turning to nod at him as she started to scoop and pour water onto her exposed knee, flinching and grunting.

 “Right then, Melanie! You’re doing good!” Came the encouraging voice from behind, causing her to chuckle. Her hand tenderly touched her forehead, finding the dirt-filled gash above her right brow and hissing again.

 She took several deep breaths, trying to steady herself before bending forward and splashing the cold water up onto her face, amazed at the color of the water that ran off of it and letting out a small yell as multiple scratches and cuts on her face and neck burned from the salt.

 “One more splash, Melanie! That’s all, then you can come back in!”

 “You should get a promotion, sir,” she managed after panting through the pain, taking more deep breaths again as she readied another scoop of water.

 “If you could write that down as a recommendation and hand it to the Commander, I’d appreciate it! He’s getting sick of my asking!” Came a laugh-brightened yell, followed by a sharp and most distant call of ‘Decorum’ by Martellis. Melanie laughed, shaking her head and taking one last deep breath before splashing again.

 “Fuck,” she managed, bracing herself with her hands in the water, gasping through pain again.

 “Commander will make you rinse your mouth next if you keep that up! Come on back and sit down for me, Melanie, if you would please!” She laughed, standing again and heading back to shore, the small man waving to direct her again. “Up on the grass please-- less sand the better!” The other soldiers were working through the distraction the two of them were providing.

 She nodded, taking slow steps as he rushed ahead to climb the eroded embankment, then waving with both arms toward the grass. “Butt goes here?” She asked and he flashed a thumbs up at her. She turned, grunting and groaning through clenched jaw as she lowered herself onto the grass. “Is there a position you want me in?”

 “Prone, on your back! Nothing to it!” He called, turning to the other two medics and whistling loudly like he was calling a horse. “Bring the supplies here!” He barked.

 “Don’t waste them all on me, Henry’s more important,” she whispered quietly after letting out a long exhale on her way down. She was surprised to see the blurry form of the medic rushing up alongside her face, hearing his panting from all of the running he did as he came close.

 “The sir is tended to, Miss,” he said, still a little on the loud side now that she was at ground level. “I’d like to get the head-wounds treated first and foremost, and we can assess supply and your other needs once that’s done. I need you to turn your face toward me a bit more, though, if you can try to do that on the slow side for me.”

 She groaned, apologizing softly as she turned a bit onto her side, trying not to stare too openly at the man. He had a long face with a sharp jawline, bushy eyebrows and kind, hazel eyes. “You’re handling this extremely well,” she said once she had finished adjusting, and he braced his hands on knees with a charming smile.

 “Been a field doctor for years, I’d hope I was doing alright by now,” he laughed.

 “I meant--”

 “I know what you meant, sorry,” he interrupted, standing back up straight and turning to look for the other medics, waving at them and pointing at a place for them to drop the supplies. “Just trying not to think too hard about the circumstances.”

 “I feel that, for sure,” Melanie sighed, trying to keep her vision low so she wouldn’t put him off too much by staring. “How… how is Henry?” She whispered quietly after he had gathered the supplies and told the medics to standby, one near Henry and one just off to the side of them.

 “He’s been tossed, but it’s all fixable. Arm will be the longest, and we’re not sure the total damage to his leg but splinted him just for safety-- permission to examine the wound, Miss?”

 “Granted,” she responded softly, gritting her teeth in anticipation of pain as he walked toward her face, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

 “Thank you,” he said, too close for her to see anything more than a blurry silhouette. “Hold still for me, as much as you can. You’re definitely sporting more scrapes and cuts than he is, all told.”

 “I think that’s a surface-area problem,” she replied, hearing him laugh and twitching her eye slightly at the sensation of his hand landing on her brow.

 “Fair and true,” he chuckled. “Good news is this one seems to be the worst that’s visible, and it’s not as deep as I feared. You won’t need stitches, so that saves both of us a bit of worry.”

 “That’s a relief, I’ve never had stitches before.”

 “I, uhm…” it was the first time he had paused in speech since they had started talking, and stepped back to get some pouches out of the pile of medical supplies, her eyes able to focus on him again. “I assume if you had, they would’ve been… your size?”

 “Yes, this is… well, this whole situation is a bit new to me,” she mumbled. He nodded thoughtfully as he worked to untie one of the pouches, staring at her. “I never asked your name, sorry,” she said to break the awkward pause.

 “Oh, my stars,” he laughed, smiling at her and taking a step to be more easily in her view, gesturing politely to himself. “Medic Corporal Lionus Ethridge, at your service Miss. Mind my manners, I’m usually better about this.”

 She smiled warmly at him. “You’re doing incredibly, given the circumstances neither of us are trying to think about right now, Corporal. Thank you.”

 “Lionus is just fine for now, Miss. Melanie, if you prefer that, sorry.”

 “Either is fine, Lionus, appreciated. What’s next? Do you need my help with anything?” He paused a second, finally untying the second pouch after a struggle with the knot.

 “No ma’am, just hang tight a moment while I mix some of this up. It will likely sting a bit, so just try to prepare yourself for that for me if you could.”

 “I’ll bite my tongue if I need to swear,” she said with a chuckle.

 Lionus’ voice dropped into a faux-whisper, obviously still unsure what she could and couldn’t hear at her size as he approached her face again. “I’ll take the blame for it if you do, Miss. Commander can be a stickler for decorum sometimes, but he owes me enough of a favor that I can get away with a cuss.”

 They both laughed, Melanie asking, “a my-sized cuss?”

 “Well, I wouldn’t be able to use another favor for a while, but I’d take that bullet for the team here,” and the two of them laughed again a moment before he placed a hand up on her forehead again, next to the gash. “Alright, mind yourself now, promise it won’t hurt for long if it does.”

 “Alright, ready when you are,” she said, taking a deep inhale and holding it, her muscles clenched despite the aches.

 “Your lungs sound good at the very least, no need for a steth on that one,” he offered lightly as the first handful of whatever he had made hit the open wound. A slow, gentle stinging started to warm in the area as he grabbed more and started spreading it, causing her eyes to water and flinch. “Hold now, you’re doing great-- just a bit more for me, ok Melanie?”

 She managed an affirmative grunt, her fists clenched, one pressing backwards into the ground as the stinging changed to a strange, warm itchiness for a moment, but she could already feel the sensation fading where he had started applying it.

 “You’re a real champ, great job. Hold it for a few seconds more until it passes, and try not to rub it for a while if you can at all help it.”

 “Should it be itchy?” She asked tensely.

 “Yes, kind of. I can see it being itchy at that size at least. Most people say it’s like pins and needles-- do you get that?”

 “I do, yes, sometimes.”

 “Yeah, like that to most of our folks,” he said, stepping back to look her in the eyes again, heaving a deep and relieved sigh. “There we go! Easy, right? Just like I said.” He flashed a grin at her and she smiled back, taking a deep breath herself. “There’s another cut, not as deep, on the back of your neck so if you can lie back again and then turn to the left, that’d be fabulous.”

 She grunted and groaned again, rolling back onto her back with a sigh before turning her head and looking down the grassy hillside.

 “Kendrick, come help,” she heard Lionus say behind her, followed by an impatient sigh.

 “He doesn’t have to,” she muttered quietly. “Really, I know it’s not an easy situation to be in.”

 “Oh hush,” Lionus scolded to the back of her head. “You’ve been politer than half the troops I’ve had to fix bumps and bruises on, and experience is experience.” She smiled warmly and tried not to twitch too much at the sensation of a hand landing on her neck. “Take the poultice and work it, bottom to top here, like this--” Lionus instructed quietly behind her.

 “Aye, sir,” came the uneasy reply from Kendrick. He sounded notably younger, his voice softer and higher pitched.

 “Alright, Melanie, hold still for us again please,” Lionus instructed, and she felt hands go to work as the stinging sensation started again, warming and becoming itchy. “Easy, hey?”

 “Easy-peasy,” Melanie said quietly. “Great job, thank you Kendrick.”

 A stammer came from behind her, followed by Lionus’ quiet instructions to wait. “He says you’re welcome,” Lionus relayed. “We’re going to do a quick walk-around now and assess, so try to relax as best you can.”

She let her neck relax slightly and took a few deep breaths as she heard Lionus and Kendrick talking hushedly on the walk-around, coming around the top of her head to the other side of her and emerging into view slowly, Kendrick a step behind Lionus. Melanie’s eyes tried to look at anything but them, herself and Kendrick obviously making eachother very uncomfortable.

Lionus nudged the younger boy with a foot, prompting the medic to stutter out a question quickly.

“I-is there, um, any-anything that you can feel that, uh, that needs attention?”

“Everything hurts so much that I can’t tell you anything myself,” she whispered as quietly as she could, trying not to startle him further. “I didn’t even know there was a cut on my neck, so whatever you see that you feel needs treatment, help yourselves, but otherwise please don’t expend too much supply on me.”

“Uh, ah… thank you, Miss,” Kendrick stammered back. He had light, red hair and a face marked full-across the nose with dark freckles.

“Kendrick here is actually celebrating a full year in the Eastern Watch at the end of this week!” Exclaimed Lionus proudly, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pushing him just slightly out toward Melanie.

“Oh, congratulations!” Melanie said warmly, smiling. Kendrick’s face was red and scarred with a horror borne in embarrassment. Her expression softened to one of apology as she continued. “I hope I haven’t spoiled a happy week for you, Kendrick.”

“N-no, ma’am!” He said back almost as a shout, not at all convincingly.

“You’ve got a hell of a story now, hey?” Lionus chuckled, Kendrick muttering back another unconvincing affirmation. Melanie frowned, her eyes moving to Lionus as she adjusted herself carefully, Kendrick’s knees looking like they would buckle if she moved too much.

“That’s not much of a consolation, Lionus,” she said disappointedly. “He’d have been just as happy if the story was ‘I had a quiet week and then they gave me cake’.”

Lionus laughed and Kendrick seemed confused by the statement. “We don’t get-- we don’t usually get cake, ma’am,” he stammered, somewhat quietly.

“It’s an anniversary,” Melanie replied, offended. “It’s been a whole year, there should be a cake.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Lionus said, grinning at Melanie from over Kendrick’s shoulder as he moved around him to approach her forehead again, Kendrick going pale from losing the proximity of his mentor but not wanting to approach the giant woman in front of him to regain it. “What kind of cake would you like if you could choose, Kendrick?”

“I, um,” he was staring directly into the large eye that was highest from the ground like a deer in headlights. “I haven’t had, uh, many cakes--”

“I like vanilla with berries,” Melanie offered quietly. “I’ve had some good chocolate cakes, too.”

“Oh, I had one when I was younger at one of the King’s Parade events…” Kendrick responded a bit more naturally, but still tense and nervous. “I think it was lemon, with strawberries and cream on the side.”

Lionus chuckled, and she tried to turn her eyes up to see what he was doing as she felt him start trying to move her hair. “He’s just making sure there’s no higher cuts, miss,” Kendrick said, more confidently. “Ones on the scalp sometimes get missed.”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. “That sounds like it would be a problem.”

“Yes ma’am, infections are no joke,” Kendrick said, a smile creeping onto his lips briefly before snapping his eyes away and looking down her body more. “Corporal, sir, should we get her to take her… footwear off?”

“Very good idea, Kendrick. We’ll get her to do that in a moment once I’m done at the top here.”

“We have to finish my check-up from the neck-up,” Melanie said, “then I’ll take the shoes off. Apologies for how they’re going to look, they’ve been soaked for hours.”

Lionus laughed heartily and Kendrick joined, looking significantly more at ease. “I like that!” The Corporal replied. “Check-up from the Neck-up. Speaking of which, turn your head the other way for me just for a moment, Miss, I need to check this side of your neck before we move on.”

[Author's note] Thank you so much for reading the first five chapters of this story! I'm hoping to upload chapters weekly, maybe twice weekly if my schedule works out for it. This is just a story I started writing for myself, and decided to share as a way to encourage myself to edit it a bit better. A minor formatting note: the bar of dashes (---, page break, etc) was originally meant to distinguish between character/story perspectives, such as jumping from Martellis to Melanie, or Melanie and Lionus to Martellis and Henry, but has essentially been replaced by chapter breaks. If this is confusing to anyone, please let me know so I can learn how to improve.

This story has obviously been influenced by Gulliver's Travels (specifically his Lilliput adventures) and media that had been influenced by that already. I hope this content finds it's way to people with the same interests in this kind of fiction and that it bring some enjoyment to others. <3

Cheers,
Belethlegwen/Belle

Chapter Text

 Another crackle of laughter came from the two medics and their bizarre charge on the hill as Martellis watched and shook his head. “Yes,” he continued the conversation with a sigh, “maybe telling Lionus to do his job wasn’t the sanest idea.”

 “Do you think he’ll be ok, sir?” The medic standing by with the Commander and Henry asked, hesitantly, from where he sat.

 “She’s not a threat, I promise,” Henry said, sighing.

 “That seems to be the case so far, yes,” Martellis replied, glancing back at the woman again before turning back with a frown. “The Corporal can handle himself, and they seem to be enjoying themselves enough.”

 “I’m glad she’s doing ok,” Henry offered, tiredly. “Any ideas on what you’ll do with her?”

 “None,” Martellis said. He and the medic had removed their hats, a barracks tradition when conversations were going ‘off the record’ and members were considered off duty. They both had similar shaded, black hair, though the medic’s had been becoming sunbleached near the top. “There may be space at, or at least around, the barracks for her, but traveling with her may not be advised.”

 “The nearest farms are still a good two hours up the plateau, and the forest on the north side here stretches for a while if we needed a place to hide her from the peasantry,” the medic offered after a moment.

 “Notable option,” the Commander remarked, running a hand through his hair. “Cleaning this beach is going to be a nightmare.”

 “Get her to help,” Henry offered, already knowing he was going to start an argument. “She can gather it and move it where it needs to go, or at least do most of the heavy lifting--”

 “It’s a matter of liberty, Lemuels,” Martellis interrupted him, turning to watch as the woman in question loudly groaned her way into a sitting position under the boisterous, waving direction of Lionus; and now Kendrick as well. “We don’t know what the King’s Guard or any of the regional or capitol officials will want to do with her.”

 “That means you have command of the situation, sir, until they have a chance to learn and respond to make the order,” the medic said, shirking back quickly from the look Martellis shot him. “Sorry sir, not my place--”

 The Commander sighed heavily and looked out at the sea, the massive shape of the foreign vessel resting atop the jagged ring of barrier rocks just past the end of the bay. “No, Devon, you’re correct.”

 “He’s in a shit position, because if he takes too much liberty, anyone hungry enough can vie to have him removed from the rank,” Henry explained, grunting as he tried to adjust his body.

 “The Coastal Watch isn’t what it was when we were in Academy, Henry,” Martellis said quietly, sullenly. “It’s not exactly an object of jealous desire.” Henry shot him a look of concern but before he could ask, shouts came from up the beach.

 “Captain on approach!” Came several shouts down the chain of working soldiers. They all turned to watch, including the giant woman, as the Captain’s steed came back into view along the southern road, fabric wrapped around it’s head as an over-head blind.

 “What is she doing?” Martellis asked as he paid attention again to Melanie from across the beach.

 “They’re inspecting her back and sides for more lacerations, sir,” Devon replied, matter-of-factly. He had watched them coax her into lifting the back of her torn and filthy shirt so they could inspect her torso. “She wasn’t keen on it,” he added off-handedly.

 Martellis picked up his hat and fitted it back on his head, the medic doing the same as they both stood. Behind the Captain was a cart pulled by two large farm-horses, full of wooden barrels and the three soldiers Grant had taken with him.

 Melanie released the back of her shirt slowly and adjusted it back around her body sheepishly, Lionus waving his arm over his head to seemingly signal her to bend her head lower so he could shout something toward her. She nodded, looking toward the Commander as Lionus and Kendrick gathered their supplies in a hurry and made toward Henry.

 Martellis raised his hand in the ‘Hold’ position toward her with a nod and she made the gesture, smaller, back toward him with her own nod, turning again to watch the horses. Grant seemed to tempt fate by riding almost directly up to her before turning his steed to the embankment and directing it to the soldiers coming off of the beach, dismounting swiftly and leaving his mount with them, jogging on the sand toward the Commander.

 “Report, Captain,” Martellis said as he strode to close the gap between them, Grant slowing to a confident stride as well.

 “We gathered five barrels and some additional medical supplies, Commander. Also some rations for Henry, and I set Hansen at the outpost to consider logistics for… a lot of food,” Grant ended with a frown. Martellis’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I… told him we had a sizable amount of rescued persons to feed.”

 “Good work, Captain.”

 “They can take Lemuels back to the barracks in the cart with the medics, and he can be tended to there. The roadblocks, from what could be seen from the outpost, were set up and expanding out, and we sent three of the privates from the outpost out to inform the nearest two farms to stay in their homes for the day at the end of their shifts.” Martellis nodded along as Grant spoke, everything seemed to be going smoothly, but the look on Grant’s face told him there was a concern to be weighed.

 “Continue,” Martellis said, granting permission for the Captain to speak.

 “Sir, we can’t move her to the barracks. Not in daylight. Maybe if we had some means to transport her horizontally, but that level of infrastructure…” Grant offered, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest with one arm, facing completely away from the giant woman. “Keeping her out of public view would be impossible at the barracks.”

 Lionus approached the two officers casually, wiping sweat off his brow with his own hat under-arm as he heard Grant’s worry. Martellis looked at him with a nod, and an expression that probably too easily showed his disapproval of the behavior he had overheard during Melanie’s assessment, removing his own hat.

 “The training grounds, Sirs,” Lionus said, panting quietly. The men looked at him silently with furrowed brows. “The new ones, to the north of the barracks. Surrounded by trees, roads are barely used except by us and the other militias in training. We can take her up the coast here and cut through the forest backroad-- chance we could run into loggers or the like at one or two points depending on time frame, but could probably get her there in just a matter of hours at worst.”

 Grant swore under his breath, “I never even thought--”

 “There’s scaffolding already there, and materials for temporary buildings,” Martellis said, nodding toward Grant and Lionus both in turn. “We can send scout teams to clear out loggers or others in the area and patrol while we move her there, and she can be held there in relative quiet until further orders come down the chain.”

 Lionus cleared his throat, a small frown flashing on his lips as the officers turned to look at him.

 “How’s her condition?” Martellis asked, trying not to sound hesitant.

 “She’s not in bad condition-- desperate for clean water-- but one of the reasons I thought of the training grounds is that there’s a spring-fed pond and pools that flow out to the ocean up the north cape. She needs to wash a number of wounds that are under her clothing, and she’ll also need to either wash the clothes she has or find replacements, and soon.”

 “Is that your medical opinion?” Grant asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. Lionus shot him a look.

 “Yes, it is. Do you disagree, Captain?”

 “Men,” Martellis growled.

 “As the Corporal says, sir,” Grant said, the suspicion leaving his tone. “My apologies for speaking against order.”

 “Apologies accepted,” Lionus said bluntly, turning back to Martellis. “She says that there’s something she believes to be a trunk belonging to her, floating in the surf just off the dropoff. There should be supplies for her in there, including changes of clothes, if you would permit her to try and retrieve it.”

 Martellis glanced out to the bay, covering the sun with one hand as it continued to rise through the pale morning sky. A number of items were floating and bobbing, and he couldn’t make out their approximate sizes or distance enough to try and judge which one could be what Lionus was referring to.

 “Do you feel she’s well enough to swim to it?” Grant asked in the long pause from the Commander.

 “I wouldn’t recommend it, no,” he said, turning back to Grant. “Her knee is damaged and in considerable pain, and we haven’t gotten to treat it yet. We haven’t seen her feet, either, and again: she’s dehydrated.”

 “We brought water, should I order the men to unload it for her?” Grant asked Martellis, who nodded. Grant fitted his hat back on and raised a hand in the air toward the men who were standing by the cart near the end of the dirt road that led them here. “Unload the water, open the barrels as she needs!” He yelled, a distant chorus of “Yes, Captain!” ringing back before the men moved to action.

 Lionus nodded. “I’ll direct her away from the soldiers,” he said with a sigh. “Poor girl will be embarrassed, I’m sure.”

 Martellis cocked his head in confusion. Grant leaning toward him to quietly explain;

 “It’ll expel seawater, initially, sir.”

 The three men nodded in understanding, Martellis looking back out to the bay. “Ethridge,” he said to Lionus as he was turning to go, “ask her to point out what she believes is her luggage, and see if she can give us a description to identify. I may be able to get some boats out to gather it.”

 “Aye sir,” Lionus said, waving over his head to Devon and Kendrick who were preparing materials by Henry. “Medics! Put him out and move him to the board when you’re ready, we’ll have men come to help move him to the cart in a moment!”

 “Yes, Corporal!” The two called back with salutes, dropping to their knees and gathering the proper supplies.

 “Bring him past her when you’re going, for God’s sake,” Grant said venomously. “She might trample someone if she moves too desperately.”

 “Mind yourself, Captain,” Martellis offered tersely. “But point made.”

 Lionus struck off toward Melanie, a hand cupped around his mouth again as he yelled for her to wait for him to get back. Grant shook his head, turning away from the spectacle with a sigh.

 “Four years, and this is what we get,” Grant muttered under his breath, looking back at Henry before turning to head back to his horse. “I’ll help direct men to move Henry to the cart when they’re ready, then I can ride ahead and prepare the north road patrols.”

 “Thank you, Captain Grant,” Martellis replied. 

Chapter Text

 
 Melanie’s cheeks still felt warm from her embarrassment of having Lionus and Kendrick inspecting her. As the Captain’s men began unloading barrels, she tried not to focus on how thirsty she was really feeling and just tried to- as casually as someone her size was able to- watch the men at work.

 Two barrels had barely touched the grass before one of the three men had knocked one onto its side, slipping a crowbar into a loop on his belt and starting to roll it toward her at almost a jog, a foolish grin on his face.

 She was impressed by his pace, given the notably slower approach the other two men were taking, despite not showing any real hesitation. Her head turned as she heard Lionus calling her name, and she cupped a hand over the closest ear to him.

 “Hold off on drinking until I get back, please!” She was able to hear, nodding back to him with a small wave to acknowledge. By the time her eyes had turned back to the incoming barrel, the first man had brought it almost alongside her leg, and she flinched with surprise.

 “Oh, sorry, thank you--” she stammered, as the man took a step back for only a second at her motion before moving back again. “I didn’t mean to scare you-- I didn’t think you’d get here so fast.” He turned a grinning face up to her.

 “No fear here, ma’am,” a deep, bold voice shouted back to her clearly. He snapped to attention and saluted before standing quickly at ease. “Second Lieutenant Edmund Miller, bravest soldier in the ranks, at your service.”

 She grinned, placing a hand on her chest politely. “Shipwrecked liability Melanie Barnes, at yours,” she replied, causing a roar of laughter out of him and a smaller burst of laughs from the two others rolling barrels behind him.

 Lionus, looking utterly exhausted by this point in his many trips across the beach, made his way once more up the dirt embankment to the grass next to her, waving in greeting to Miller and the other men. “Melanie!” Lionus called, beckoning her down toward him again while he tried to catch his breath.

 She carefully moved her hand out next to him, bracing herself as she bent forward with a suppressed groan of pain, turning her ear toward the medic. “Corporal,” she said, once she was in position.

 “Lionus, please ma’am, until you’re enlisted--” he panted with a laugh. “Take the water carefully and try to direct yourself away from the men when you drink it. It’s going to pump up any seawater and whatever else is in your guts.”

 She grimaced, her fingers fidgeting on the grass uncomfortably. She was already feeling like some kind of monster, the last thing she needed was to disgust any of these men further than they already had been.

 “I’m sorry, Miss, I know it’s not ideal but it’ll be good for you. Needs to happen,” Lionus offered consolingly.

 “Is… is there something I can do about it? Like, move to the water’s edge or something…?” She asked, turning her face to look down at him and leaning back slightly with an uncomfortable frown.

 “Don’t worry about that, Miss, we can shovel sand or the like on it when you’re done. We’ve handled these kinds of things hundreds of times before,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and offering a kind smile. She flinched, chewing on her dry bottom lip.

 “Not at my scale, Lionus,” she muttered, and he laughed, trying to cover it with the back of his arm. “Can I at least bury it myself?”

 “Best stay where you are for now, we still need to get your legs and feet looked at,” Lionus started to wave her back up and away from him as he spoke comfortingly. “Me and the boys will handle it; try not to worry, Melanie.”

 She sighed, staring at him a moment before nodding and straightening back up.

 “Here you are, Ma’am!” The booming, bold voice of Miller called when it was obvious her and Lionus had finished speaking. She turned back and felt a little better watching him point with his full arms toward the opened barrel like he was presenting a piece of art.

 “Thank you, Second Lieutenant,” she offered quietly, hoping he would move back to give her extra room to grab it, but no such luck.

 “Edmund, ma’am!” He shouted back to her, crossing his arms proudly across his broad chest, and immediately flinched at the sound of the Captain snapping ‘decorum’ toward him. Melanie giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to hide it as she heard Lionus laughing from behind her. “Sorry ma’am, right you were.”

 She nodded, watching to make sure the Captain’s back was turned before winking at Edmund. He grinned and winked back, standing as casually as any person she would’ve interacted with at home as she brought her hand-- practically half the size of him or more-- up next to him to carefully grab the barrel, it’s weight more than she anticipated.

 She sighed, looking at Lionus as she brought her other hand up to cup the bottom of her new mug. He nodded encouragingly and waved a hand loosely in the direction of her other side, causing her to groan quietly in discomfort before turning more forward and taking a small swig of water.

 Instantly, the cool fresh water seemed to refresh her mouth completely. Her lips, gums, tongue and throat seemed to swell in pleasure at its touch as it passed, and for a blissful moment all her body wanted to do-- the only sensation she felt-- was the desire to continue  
drinking.

 Merely seconds later, her stomach bucked like a mad horse with a sudden cramp and the feeling of something putrid attempting to leap out of her, and she buckled over to the other side. Bracing herself with her free hand she tried to bend as low to the ground as possible as hot, acid-tasting yellow fluid ejected from her onto the grass, the inside of her own nose burning from the smell. 

 “There you go!” Lionus called with that chipper encouragement that was so welcome when she was being treated for her cuts and gashes earlier. “It’s not even that--”

 “Not helpful!” She stressed, a little on the loud side as she coughed and spluttered, gagging at the lingering taste again. “Don’t! Back up, Lionus--” she tried to shoo him away but didn’t have a free hand as he entered her vision again.

 “Get it out of yourself, it’s better this way!” He called, and she could hear the laughter in his voice.

 “This isn’t funny!” She said desperately, turning to look at him with pleading eyes, trying to wipe her mouth with the upper part of her arm that was still carrying the water.

 “I’m sorry, Miss,” he said, “Was laughing at myself! Been told I’m too talkative to be worth my skill before.”

 She chuckled herself, coughing again as she tried to spit the taste out of her mouth.

 “That should be the end of it, but it may get the rest out-- take another sip again when you’re ready!” Lionus called.

 “You got this, ma’am!” Edmund cheered from behind her.

 “My god, the two of you,” she muttered before taking a deep breath and slowly taking another swig. It soothed the hot, burning sensation in her throat, and she hesitated as she felt it get to her bucking, rolling stomach, but nothing seemed intent to come back out. She sighed with relief as Lionus let out an approving noise of some kind.

 “Alright, you sit back up and finish that off slowly for me and I’ll see to it this gets dealt with,” he called, immediately turning toward the beach and shouting for all men with shovels or spare sacks to start bringing sand up to his position.

 Melanie groaned again quietly, pushing herself back up and sighing before bringing the barrel to her lips one last time as she gulped back the rest of it in a slow, steady chug.

 Her eyes closed and she let her head fall back, the morning sun finally getting to a point where it’s heat was noticeable in the late-summer air. She felt like her body was relaxing as it absorbed the water, her aches and pains almost starting to melt away.

 “Next one, ready to go!” Came Edmund’s booming voice again, calling her back to reality.

“You really weren’t joking about no fear, then?” She asked softly, seeing him place the wooden lid of the next barrel with the other.

“No ma’am, not a lick,” he said. “They’ve even got a name for soldiers like me in the company!”

“Oh?” she asked, placing the empty barrel down on the other side of him, and then moving her hand toward the freshly opened one. The other two men had gone back for the last two barrels from the cart and were rolling them towards her at speed.

“Idiots,” he shouted clearly.

Melanie’s head whipped so fast to the side as she tried to cover her mouth, laughing so hard she almost spit, that Edmund ducked reflexively. He laughed back at her, and both of them pretended they couldn’t hear the Captain and Commander call for decorum over the ruckus. She shook her head as the laughing subsided, turning back to Edmund. “I’ve been called that myself, from time to time.”

“Well, let’s hope they add you to the ranks here!” Edmund called.

“We can start our own company,” she offered with a grin.

“The Idiot Brigade,” he replied. They both laughed heartily again, her hand grabbing the next wooden cup of water and bringing it to her lips as Edmund’s face suddenly snapped back into a more serious expression, looking just past her sea-side elbow.

She exhaled deeply after taking a draught, turning to see the Commander had nearly made it to her legs.

“Command--” Edmund started, snapping into a salute.

“Dismissed, Miller. Report to the Captain,” Martellis said flatly, Edmund unflinchingly nodding and immediately following the order.

“Sorry,” Melanie whispered toward Martellis as the Second Lieutenant retreated. “Please, that was my fault--”

The Commander continued to watch Edmund’s back, not looking up at her as he spoke. “He’s a member of the Corps, he understands his place and what is and isn’t appropriate.”

She frowned guiltily, hoping her friendliness with Edmund hadn’t caused him any punishment. 

“He’s a tough lad, Miss,” Lionus called up from beside her, dusting off his hands as he walked around from the burial-in-progress behind her. “He’ll figure it out.”

“Corporal,” Martellis stressed.

“Aye, Commander, my apologies.”

Melanie’s eyes turned toward where Martellis had come from, a cluster of men either standing or squatting around where she assumed Henry still was. “Is he ok?” She asked in a breath.

“He’s been given a heavy sedative, they’ve just finished moving him to the transport board to take him back to the barracks.” Martellis’ voice was softer, and his posture relaxed a little as he turned to make eye-contact. “He asked to not have it given to him until it was absolutely necessary. They’re going to bring him to you on their way to the cart.”

A deep sigh erupted from her, and she tried to pull back her legs as she flinched.

“Mind yourself now, Miss!” Lionus called. “Don’t cause too much pain to yourself if you don’t need to. Why don’t you work on getting your feet into the open for me?”

She nodded in lieu of another reply, and turned to focus on trying to undo the swollen and soggy laces of her sneakers.

“Lionus told me you may have identified something important among the wreckage,” Martellis called up to her after a moment of awkward quiet, which helped to keep her preoccupied from watching a half dozen men carrying Henry across the sand slowly.

“I believe my trunk is out there, it’s black with leather strapping and steel embellishments,” she said, pointing out to the bay with one hand as the other started pulling the tongue of her sneaker up. “There’s two boards-- they may be the doors to the cabin-- to the left of it, and what looks like one of my bowls to the right.”

“Ah, I see it--” the Commander said, blocking the sun with his hand again. “I’ll see if I can get some of the men to try dragging it in with boats while you get seen-to by the Corporal.”

“I appreciate it, Commander, but if it’s too heavy, I can--”

“You’re not getting up again until I tell you you’re cleared,” Lionus called sternly, walking up toward her feet. “Come on now, I’m trying to piece you back together!”

She smiled at him and flinched as she bent forward more to push her sneaker off, grunting with the effort and pain from her ribs. “Please don’t make any comments, positive or otherwise, about my feet right now,” she muttered. “Not exactly something I want to focus on.”

“Just another circumstance we’re ignoring for the time being, Melanie, no worries.” Lionus replied.

Chapter Text

 Martellis let the two interact without interruption. He could scold the other men, but the Medical Ranks in the Eastern King’s Watch were thin enough as is, and Ethridge was one of the best he’d ever served with, despite comments that the Commander had made at the beginning about the man being ‘all bedside manners’. He could easily make the excuse that Lionus’ behavior toward Melanie was necessary for his duties, as a field doctor, and that would lay most concern or argument to rest.

 He sighed quietly; all he could hope for was that Lionus understood how to read the room when the higher officials arrived in the coming days.

 “Bring him here!” He called, waving the men with the stretcher toward him and Melanie, gesturing to the side of her closest to the cart. She stopped trying to peel her socks off for a moment, and Martellis heard her take in a sharp breath of anticipation, holding it.

 The men, thankfully, seemed more stable around her now. As upset as he was for Edmund and Lionus’ lack of professionalism and proper conduct, it had done much to put many of the men, including himself and Henry, at greater ease with the situation at hand. 

 Henry’s uninjured arm came up in a brief wave as the men placed him on the ground. “Out of the way, toward the cart, until they’re done speaking,” Martellis commanded, and they all nodded with scattered ‘Yes sirs’ before quickly retreating toward the road.

 He turned his eyes upward and saw Melanie already looking at him for some kind of signal of permission, which he granted with a wave. Her hand came up carefully between himself and Henry, and he felt the ground shift under her weight as she leaned her ear toward him.

 “How are the drugs?” She asked softly, her face pointing toward the sea.

 “I’m not seeing anything extraordinary, but I’m feeling quite nice,” he called back, almost sleepily. She chuckled; an odd sound that the Commander wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. An echoing, almost hollow noise that bounced around in her chest and throat while he was close enough to hear it. “How’s the doctor treating you?”

 “As well as I can!” Lionus shouted back, causing Melanie to turn her head toward him and shush him with a laugh.

 “Very well,” she replied as she turned back to Henry. “We’re taking a look at my feet soon, so be pleased you get to miss it.”

 “Can’t say I will be,” he grunted, trying to adjust himself beneath the straps on the board. “I might not be able to stay awake much longer, but there’s something important I needed to tell you before I left.”

 “What is it?” She asked, leaning up so she could turn her face to look at him, instead of just pointing her ear toward him.

 “There’s no expression you can make that counts as ‘subtle’, be kind.”

 “You piece of shit,” she swore through another set of chuckles. He brought his uninjured hand up again, open, and she slipped a finger up against it. “Go pass out, you junkie,” she said, using her thumb to squeeze around his small hand.

 “You should ask them to give you some, might improve your mood.”

 Martellis shook his head faintly as he watched from just behind Melanie’s forearm, stretched on the ground in front of him. He felt uncomfortable watching them, the same as if he had stumbled upon a couple being intimate, but he couldn’t place if that’s what he made of their relationship. Their moment passed quietly, before Melanie spoke again.

 “Get better, and I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

 “I won’t be far,” he replied, his voice notably hazy now. The giant woman grunted with effort again, her joints popping and creaking as she pushed herself back into a seated position and placed her hands on her lap, the men needing no other signal to return and gather Henry.

 Martellis, Melanie and Lionus all watched the men position him into the back of the cart, Kendrick and Devon hopping into the back with him and two other soldiers, and on the Captain’s orders, they were off.

 “He’ll be right as rain in no time,” Lionus yelled up at her. “I’ll be checking on him when I get back to the barracks, after I finish treating you.”

 “Then I’ll try not to keep you any longer,” the large woman replied, her voice heavier now. She returned to rolling down her socks, the skin underneath pale, wrinkled and damp. She grimaced openly at herself, and Martellis tried not to laugh-- none of her expressions could possibly be subtle, and he was beginning to understand that it wasn’t simply because of her size.

 “Continue as you are,” he said, turning to Lionus who gave him a wave from the other side of Melanie’s lap. Grant raised a fist above his head from the back of his horse as the cart turned the corner at the far side of the hill, and Martellis did the same, waving his side to side in the all-clear signal. Grant wheeled his horse around, and took off at a gallop behind the cart.

 Second Lieutenant Chase approached him from the beach side, coming to a halt some ways away from himself-- or more notably, away from the giant-- and Martellis walked to meet with him.

 “Sir, there’s little debris we can gather with the manpower we currently have- the size and weight is a bit much- but we’ve started piling what we can in an area with higher concentration of the larger pieces. I’ll be honest with you, we can’t identify much of what’s on the beach.” Chase was a young man, just into the start of his twenties, and had been an impressive addition to the barracks. He seemed a natural fit for a future leadership position, and he was defaulted-to often to take command when officers had to be spread too thin among multiple operations.

 “Good work regardless, Lieutenant,” Martellis said. “Once we clear our more immediate concern from the beach, we can start directing more hands down here to speed up the work. In the meantime, I’ll need you to direct a dozen men or more down to the southern launch and man several of the rowboats. We need to try and get the piece of debris near the center here--” He pointed it out, describing it to Chase who nodded along. “Bring it to shore, if possible, or at least try to run it aground. That’s the first priority, everything else out there you can try to bring in before the tide starts to shift.”

 “Aye, sir. There’s also the matter of her weapon,” Chase said, turning to point down the beach and sparing himself the look of confusion that splashed across the Commander’s face for a moment. “It’s a near 10 feet in length from tip to pommel, but we can likely get two of the men to wrap ropes around the cross-guard and drag it here if that’s where you’d like it, but I don’t know if you’d want it back near her or not.”

 The weight in his speech seemed to press on the concern more as a suggestion, or a plea, than just a simple statement of curiosity. Martellis nodded, remembering the flash of the person-sized knife as she had drawn it in the dark. “Bring it to me, and see if there’s anything that can be used along the beach to cover it from any prying eyes until we can transport it to the barracks.”

 “Yes, Commander,” Chase said, snapping into a salute before openly staring behind him, his mouth opening in a stammer; “S-sir?”

 Martellis turned around to see Lionus just stepping out of Melanie’s hand, finding uneasy footing on the top of her leg as the two continued to talk. He could see Chase jump out of the corner of his eye as Lionus plopped down, straddling her thigh and bending forward to start assessing the wound on her knee. A long exhale whistled out of his nose and he reached up to scratch his beard with suppressed irritation as he drew the lieutenant’s attention back to himself. “He’s treating her wounds, as per orders. Back to work.”

 Chase saluted again, quickly turning on his heel and striking off toward the workers still dragging items up the beach. Martellis shuddered, refusing to turn back and watch Lionus being handled like a doll as the color drained from his face at the thought of how he must’ve looked when he was carried. 

 The size of her threatened to become a fixation for his fear, and he shook his head quickly to try and break himself of it. There were other things he had to focus on, logistically, and that should be his priority-- everything else needed to wait, whether it was able to or not.

 Her voice had a deep timbre to it, almost a rasp that carried considerable distance to him, and while he couldn’t make out what Lionus was saying to her, being able to pick up parts of her half of the conversation was enough of a window into what they were doing. It made monitoring them feel easier, but made escaping the more concerning details of his current reality that much harder.

 “No, don’t ask him,” he heard drifting to his ears over the sound of the sea breeze and men shouting orders up the beach. “It’d be a bad idea, just let me tear it open more.”

 Martellis couldn’t help himself any more and turned to observe the two of them once again, Melanie helping Lionus down off of herself before gripping either side of the tear in her pants with both hands. She grunted, loudly, as she jerked both sides apart and the sound of the rip was like listening to the wind of a storm tear through a mainsail.

 She gave it another, smaller tug apart and then helped Lionus back onto her lap, thanking him ‘quietly’, before beginning to pick up and hold various items of the medical supply for him to pick through. Her bare feet were starting to dry out, though they still sported the water-soaked wrinkles in places, and the Commander could see that aside from bruising near her ankles, they had been protected by her bizarre footwear.

 His eyes turned out to the bay, to the form of the stranded vessel again, and wondered if it had been driven hard and high enough onto the jagged, black barrier rocks that protected this side of the coast to keep it from drifting back out to sea. It stood now like a bizarre-shaped fortress of grand scale on the horizon. Another thing it would be impossible to hide and would need explanation.

 Henry, he thought, had better have some kind of plan for this, and he better be ready to speak about it before any of the Duke’s men or King’s Guard arrived.

 Melanie’s left hand hovered, somewhat shakily, next to Lionus as he mixed up more of the poultice from earlier. She tried to ignore the sensation of him straddling her leg, just above her knee, the weight of him like someone’s hand resting on her lap.

 “I’m ticklish,” she said, embarrassedly. “Please be careful, and I apologize if I shake or move too much.”

 “I trust you, Miss!” Lionus said over his shoulder, focusing on his craft. “It’s not that far to the ground, either, so if I fall it won’t be a big knock. Just try to hold still as best you can while this goes on.”

 She let out a whine quietly, Lionus ignoring it seemingly out of politeness as he placed one of the pouches back into her hand. “Put that on the ground now, Miss, and then hold tight for me. I mixed it a bit stronger this time because this one seemed to be a bit rougher.”

 Following his instruction she placed the items back into the near-by pile of other supplies and then used the empty hand to brace her weight on the grass, taking a steadying breath. “Ready when you are,” she said. He immediately leaned forward, one hand bracing himself across the wide and jagged gash on her knee, the skin red and sore around it, and she fought as best as she could against the twitching her body involuntarily started at the sensation of his touch on such a sensitive area.

 “Good job, keep it up!” He called, his legs trying to squeeze around her thigh but she was too broad to really give him enough ability to stabilize himself. Her eyes immediately squeezed shut at the burning feeling of his first handful of medicine hitting the open wound, and she hissed as her leg tried to twitch again. She felt him wobble, and his hand lift off from it’s progress of tending to the injury. He made a grunt of effort, trying to stabilize himself, and her only instinct was to use her free hand to rest against his back and hold him still.

 “Sorry,” she offered through gritted teeth, her eyes still closed tightly. The sensation of the medicine being spread on her knee continued quickly.

 “No, this is perfect, Miss!” Lionus called, sounding almost excited. She wondered if she was just misreading fear from the Doctor, but kept her hand against him as he continued to work. “Just keep holding, we’re almost there, promise!”

 Pins and needles replaced the burning, almost sizzling sensation, at the wound and she took heavy breaths to try and help her work through the extremely uncomfortable feeling. Feeling the doctor’s weight press back into her palm as he straightened back up made her mind turn to the thought of Henry, the memory of his weight and presence. It made her feel more comfortable.

 “Good girl!” Lionus cheered, kicking his left leg back over her thigh so he could slide feet-first off the side of her leg. “You’re clear, just try not to poke it. Rest at your leisure, Miss!”

 Melanie expelled a loud burst of breath and let herself fall back with a heavy thud on the grass, her jaw clenched as she waited for the pain to pass. Lionus’ voice was warm and comforting, speaking at a more normal volume as he came up next to her ear again.

 “Fantastic, Melanie, good job. Take a minute or two now and just rest while the medicine works.” His hand landed on her forehead, near her temple, and rubbed back and forth soothingly. “I doubt I have enough materials on me to put you out for an hour or two like with Henry, but if you’re aching too bad to rest I can probably mix you up something that will help with pain.”

 Her eyes opened as her panting started to subside, and she turned to look at Lionus as best as she could; him stepping backwards to a point where she could focus on him clearly. “Is it ok for me to be under that kind of influence, right now? The Commander might need me to help with things, or we might need to start traveling somewhere..?”

 “The men are setting up roadblocks and patrols, it’ll be an hour or two yet at least. If you’re worried about not being able to think straight, we can definitely avoid it for you, but the Commander might also suggest we give you the opportunity to rest to make sure you’re good for when we do need you to work or move for us again.”

 “I’m more worried that if I let myself fall asleep now, I’ll be asleep for days,” she admitted tiredly. “I’m exhausted as well as sore.”

 “Understandable, Miss. You’re in an ordeal. Just rest as much as you can for the moment, and if you change your mind on the medicine just let me know. Is there anything I can help you with for the time being?” He asked, and she simply shook her head with a warm smile and rolled her head back on the grass, closing her eyes against the sunlight. “I’m going to go help the Commander, so give us a call or a wave when you need anything.”

 “Thank you, Lionus. Tell him you deserve a promotion.”

 He laughed, moving to pack up his things and stopping at one of the opened-but-untouched barrels of water to have a long drink and then scoop out some water to wash the medicine off of his red, sore hands. “Will do, ma’am.” 

 Melanie took deep, slow breaths as she tried to assess what pain and aches were the most present to her now. Unsure if most of the minor pains had started to be alleviated, or if she was simply numb to them now, she focused mostly on the pains in her joints and shoulders. Lionus and Kendrick had mentioned with concern that there were injuries on her back that would have to be tended to, but that it would need to happen when they had more chance to afford her some privacy. She had squirmed at the thought. 

 Trying to think of the logistics of where she was going to-- and how she was going to have to handle-- going to the washroom later was horrifying. She was terrified about the condition of the clothes she was still in after having been through an actual shipwreck possibly as far back as twelve hours or more ago, as well. 

 She opened her eyes to watch the clouds passing, listening to the faint unintelligible sounds of conversation and orders, some chatter, the noise of the waves and wind. Mentally, she tried to make a list of things to attempt to salvage; trying to recall what she had still packed in the DryChest trunk, or what might still be in the ship if she could get to it. Her wetsuit should still be in the trunk, along with almost all of her clothing save for the two outfits she hadn’t washed in the rainwater reserves yet. There should also be a bottle of Tylenol.

 Did she put the first aid kit back into the chest after the fishhook mishap? Where had she stored her spare shoes? Her boots? There were at least four different sunscreen bottles scattered among her things, but she was lucky if she could ever find one when she was looking for them.

 ‘Oh,’ she thought, her emotions brightening a little. ‘I have a ton of soaps, a bunch in the trunk. That will be helpful. The supplement powder in the chest probably survived fine, but the opened one is probably ruined.’

 She hummed quietly, hoping the fish in the area weren’t getting extremely bulked up from any spilled vitamin powder.

 Her eyes closed again, and she tried to think of what food may have survived and what may have been lost, and soon she was enveloped in a meditative peace, her pain fading slowly.

Chapter Text

 “Miss! Melanie, Miss!”

 Her eyes opened blearily, squinting directly into the mid-day sun almost directly above her. Her bones and joints resisted her as much as possible, her entire body feeling leaden and sore. She flinched, lifting her head off of the ground slowly and starting to prop herself up as she looked to the left, the side the yelling had come from.

 “Take it slow,” a shout came up to her from below, and she looked down at the small man who waved at her. It took an extra few seconds to remember what was happening to her.

 “Lionus,” she said, her voice raspy. She brought a hand across her mouth to clear her throat quietly as the field doctor looked her over.

 “How are you feeling? Anything in need of attention?” Lionus asked.

 “My knee feels better,” she began, delicately trying to move and stretch every part of her slowly to wake her body up. “My head is pounding so I can’t tell if this cut-” she gestured toward her face, “is the same, but I would assume so. How long have I been asleep?”

 “Been about an hour now,” Lionus replied, pointing at her leg. “If you could let me check your leg again- if you don’t mind, Miss- so I can make sure the stronger medicine didn’t dry anything out, I’d appreciate it!”

 “I’m glad you didn’t suddenly come to your senses and run away while I was out,” she whispered warmly, bringing her hands down for him to hop onto. He laughed and winked at her as she lifted him to her lap.

 “While ‘Sense’ and ‘Duty’ typically don’t mix anyway, I feel like you’re being too hard on yourself, Miss,” he replied, climbing over to check her knee again. “You’re looking good though!”

 “Do we need to put any more medicine on it?” She asked, her voice not hiding her discomfort at the idea very well.

 “No, Ma’am, we don’t have to put you through that again,” Lionus laughed, turning around to look up at her face, standing awkwardly across her lap. “I did want to wake you up to make sure you were as fresh as possible for the Commander, though,” he said a bit quieter.

 Melanie’s eyes opened a little with surprise, offering her hand again to help Lionus slide down the side of her right leg to the ground again, which he took graciously. “Has something happened?” She asked.

 “A cart of food arrived, it’s mostly bread and salt meat, but it should be enough to help you out. The men managed to get your trunk to run aground just off shore, so the Commander may let you bring it the rest of the way in if I clear you for the work,” he shouted, waving to beckon her ear closer. Shifting her weight, she dropped her elbow to the grass and leaned over him. 

Lionus’ voice dropped to a much quieter volume, and he cupped a hand around his mouth to try and make sure his words reached her, but ideally no one else. “They’re going to make you remove everything for inspection once you get it, but if you say your leg isn’t up to the journey, I’ll explain that to the Commander and Captain for you.”

She turned to face him again, nodding with an appreciative look. “Thank you, I think it’ll be fine, but… thank you.”

He smiled and briefly tapped a hand over his heart before waving her back up and away from him. She felt a bit of color come to her cheeks at the sense that this man, who had innumerable reasons to see her as a monster instead of a person, was trying to look out for her in even this tiny way. “When you’re ready, Miss, try to stand up for me!”

She adjusted her position with several deep grunts and groans, trying to suppress them as much as possible. Her eyes turned toward the southern beach, scanning the progress that had been made while she rested. A significant amount of debris had managed to be collected in one place, with the help of some farm horses that they had been able to collect, and were dragging more to the pile. Out to sea and just at the edge of the shallows, three row boats were in various positions around her trunk, utilizing a net strung between two of them to pull it in, and a third to try and direct it. They were now just listing in the waves beside it having firmly run it aground, and seeming to coordinate going after another nearby piece of debris.

Just beyond the dark-black outcropping of rocks at the point, the Commander and Captain stood with two soldiers in discussion, their riding horses tied to a freshly-erected fencepost at the bottom of the hill behind them. As she started to push herself into a standing position, almost every head turned to look; she decided to just focus straight ahead.

“Please be careful,” she said down toward Lionus, who was uncomfortably close for how stiff and sore she was still feeling.

“No worries, Miss!” He called back. “You’re looking good! How’s the knee? Put some weight on it for me, please!”

She flexed her toes in the short, soft grass and shifted from one leg to the other slowly. “Less pain, for sure, still sore though.”

“To be expected! Take a few steps down onto the sand and mind the rocks and we’ll see how you do!”

The feeling of the small stones under her feet was bizarre, like walking on grains of rice or tiny, dried beans, but she had more stability and movement, and she even did a few knee raises-- slowly-- to see how rough things were feeling.

“Very good!” Lionus cheered. “Don’t push yourself too hard now!”

She turned to him with a smile and slowly lowered herself into a squat so she could be roughly eye-level with him up on the grassy embankment. “It feels much better, thank you. You did a fantastic job patching me up.”

“Commander on approach!” A call came from the south, and Melanie stood up to watch as both the Captain and Commander marched away from the two soldiers they were with and started heading in their direction.

Melanie pointed at herself and then motioned toward them both, cocking her head to the side to indicate a question, and the Commander used a hand to wave her forward after sharing a word with the Captain.

“I’d offer you a lift but I imagine that’s not something you’d actually be interested in,” she said quietly down to Lionus as they both started off; her walking slowly and him taking long, quick strides.

“On the contrary,” he called back with a laugh. “I just think I’d be going into a favor-deficit with Commander Martellis if I made any more of a spectacle of myself today.”

She grinned, trying to cover it with a light cough into the back of her hand and attempted to put on a more neutral expression as they approached the officers. She’d already lost a potential ally earlier by being too friendly with Edmund, she didn’t want the same thing to happen with Lionus.

Several of her steps away the Commander held up the signal to hold and she nodded, carefully getting down onto one knee next to the embankment as Lionus held next to her, saluting the two men. “At ease,” the Commander ordered, and Lionus folded his arms behind his back. Melanie took an immediate notice of how the Captain refused to look at her.

“Melanie,” Martellis began, addressing her directly. “We’ve gotten the item you requested as close to shore as possible at the moment. I’ll grant you permission to retrieve it after you’ve eaten, but you’ll have to let us inspect everything in it.”

She nodded, eagerly. “Yes sir, I can try to recall as best as possible what was last packed in it, or if you’d like me to list any items you’d be concerned about me having I can try to do that for you as well.”

A look almost like that of pleasant surprise crossed the Commander’s face briefly before he exchanged a look with the Captain. “Anything that could be considered a danger to any of my men or other people here, or anything that you could construe as a weapon, you need to disclose to us right now.”

 “Yes, sirs,” she replied. “I have a small amount of fire-starting materials in there- some matches and a fueled lighter- as well as a pocket-tool, which has multiple attachments like a screwdriver, can opener, and small knife. I believe there should be a pack of emergency or spare utensils in there, but I’m terrible for taking them out and not putting them back, so they may be missing. If I was smart, I put the first aid kit back into the trunk, which would have a small set of scissors and several medicinal items.”

 She paused, trying to think of other items that should be disclosed, the Captain leaning close to the Commander to speak to him without being overheard.

 “There should also be an emergency clothing repair kit containing scissors and needles. Beyond that, it’s mostly clothing, a tarp, and a spare blanket, possibly some other things but they wouldn’t be considered dangerous or of concern, I don’t believe. I can outline them if I pull them out.”

 She waited in anticipation, watching the Commander and Captain share inaudible words for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lionus giving her a thumbs up from behind his back and she let out a quiet breath of relief.

 “You can bring it in,” Martellis said, turning back to her and walking a few steps closer. “But it has to be placed directly on the beach, and every item has to be laid out for inspection. Afterwards, the inside of the trunk will be fully inspected. I want to stress that you may not be permitted to take whatever items we deem suspicious or unnecessary to you.”

 “Yes, sir,” she said firmly. “Of course.” The Commander waved for two soldiers to bring a horse-pulled cart over; open crates and barrels of bread, fish and beef, and more barrels of water on it.

Once Melanie had finished eating ten men’s worth of food, Martellis nodded with a sigh.

 “The men in the boats are expecting this, but signal to them your intention to approach before entering, just in case.”

 “Should I pull them out of the water if they happen to fall in?” She asked bluntly, remembering some of their displays of terror earlier. Lionus loudly snorted before composing himself again, and Captain Grant finally turned to her with a sharp look.

 “You’ll be taking care not to upset the boats, so no one should wind up in the water at all,” he called tersely.

 “Yes sir, absolutely,” Melanie replied, blushing at the scolding and turning her eyes down. “My apologies.”

 “Should anything happen,” Martellis offered between the two of them, “the men are trained in maritime rescue and are capable of remedying any situation.”

 She nodded, looking back up to him. “Permission to retrieve?”

 “Granted, remember to signal.”

 She grinned, placing a fist over her heart as a tiny sign of respect in lieu of a proper salute, and stood, stretching her legs out carefully.

 “Permission to monitor for medical concerns?” Lionus asked, just loud enough for her to still hear at full height.

 “Denied, report current status and monitor from here for now.” The Commander replied, and Melanie shot a brief, sad smile over her shoulder at the doctor before walking forward slowly, taking the rocky outcrop in two steps this time for safety and waving her arm in the air toward the men in the boats.

 She waited until one of them stopped staring long enough to repeat the signal back to her, and then called out clearly. “Entering the water to gather the trunk, thank you for bringing it in.”

 There was a pause and then a shout of ‘All clear!’ returned, the same man waving the signal again.

 Out in the surf, she could see that the trunk’s contents had shifted to one side, tipping it up so it stood as tall as it could. She sighed, taking a moment to consider if it was worth it to tie the bottom of her shirt in hopes of it not being too wet, but decided not to bother. The cold water lifted the sand and pebbles from her feet as she stepped in, striding out as the boats rowed further away from her chosen path.

 She gasped, leaning into the surf and dunking herself completely to push her hair behind her face, and to acclimate herself to the water’s temperature as fast as possible; she did lazy, improper strokes, kicking gently to avoid kicking up more water than she needed to as her joints and muscles became sluggish and stiff in the cold.

 The chest was wedged into the rocky bottom of the bay, about three to four feet in from the dropoff, where the water came to the top of her chest. The small, ball wheels of the trunk and the small silver-handled indent were sticking into the air, and she could make out the leather side-handle just next to her feet. She looked to her left and met the eyes of Edmund, leaning over the side of his boat to watch; he had been the one who waved back and shouted to her when none of the others would.

 “No fear,” she said with a grin to him, making out a smile on his face before she inhaled deeply and plugged her nose, squatting into the water and grabbing the handle, yanking it up twice to make it dislodge.

 The buoyancy of the trunks’ other end made picking it up awkward, and it threatened to roll as the contents shifted inside. Her head broke the surface, letting her breath out in a long sigh as she awkwardly tried to plant her footing firmly enough to keep the trunk oriented, lifting the heavy end in hopes it would balance out.

 The trunk continued to awkwardly fight her, bouncing in the waves, and she just muttered an annoyed ‘oh, fuck off’ to it before starting to walk backwards, yanking it awkwardly as she went to try and keep herself from having to rotate her hand’s position. Orienting it properly as she started to stand out of the surf was a bit easier, and it made it to the beach with a cacophony of noise from the small stones being dragged beneath it, the two small wheels sinking into the sand and pebbles. She reached to the other side, the box just long enough to be awkward to hold by the handles on its farthest sides, and turned to lift it to the grassy embankment.

 “I can’t see below, yell if you’re in the way,” she said, grunting with the effort of lifting the dark box and walking it awkwardly across the beach. No shouts came back, so she felt safe to continue forward, laying the box down as carefully as she could manage under the careful watch of the officers.

 The giant woman stood, dripping onto the beach like a single point of stormcloud, beaming proudly as she panted from the effort. Captain Grant muttered under his breath as he tried to calculate the dimensions of the box, walking to get a good look at at least two of the sides.

 “Looks to be roughly 12 feet high, 16 feet wide, and 30 feet deep,” the Captain reported tersely. “I can’t imagine how much it weighs, and she seems barely winded.”

 “She’s been offering to help with the beach clean-up,” Lionus said. “She’d be a huge asset for that, and other work as such.”

 “It’s not our position to think of how best to put her to use,” Martellis said in hushed tones. “That is for the nobility to decide.” He turned back-on to her, in case she was watching closely enough to know what he was saying, addressing the two men on either side of him. “We may have to keep the extent of her capabilities and utility under wraps, even in the face of the nobility.”

 Lionus’ brow furrowed, and he locked eyes with Captain Grant who seemed to ponder the Commander’s words more heavily. “They may see her more as a potential threat if she appears too strong,” the Captain stated in understanding.

 “Or they could become fixated on weaponizing her,” Lionus said with concern.

 “Utility is utility,” Grant replied, “weaponizing her would be a boon to the forces.”

 “Seeing her as an offensive tool and utilizing her as such would mean creating situations in which we would be offensive,” Martellis leveled gravely. “I want it understood that regardless of the goals of the other branches or the Vogunti Military, the Eastern Watch has always been a defensive structure. I do not want to contribute in any way, if it can at all be avoided, to a return to constant armed conflict, on our shore or otherwise.”

 Lionus and Grant went solemnly silent, bowing their heads in concession. “Yes, sir,” they responded.

 “Permission to unload my belongings for inspection, sirs?” The carefully-hushed voice came from above them, the sound of dripping water had slowed significantly in the time they were speaking.

 “Yes, open it first and then begin removing items, one at a time, and placing them here on the hillside,” Martellis ordered, turning back to face her. “Do so slowly, and identify them as you go. We may ask further questions per item.”

 “Yes sir,” she said, smiling excitedly. She took a quick look around her before dropping to one knee, unbuckling the thick leather straps and turning pieces of a metal device on the front.

“What is that?” Captain Grant shouted, sharply and to the point.

“A locking mechanism, sir,” she responded, twisting the whole apparatus and causing the lid to lift with an odd pop. “When you set these three dials to the right numbers, it allows--”

“Understood,” he yelled sharply, cutting her off. She grimaced like she had been scolded and nodded, a dragging noise and a strange hiss coming from the box as she opened it.

 “It sounds like no water got in,” she muttered to herself, happily, as she lifted the lid and held it, checking to make sure none of the men had stepped behind the chest before letting the lid fall back. Three odd protrusions on the back of the lid landed on top of similar counterparts on the back of the base, holding the lid flat out like a balcony.

“Should we ask her to let one of us observe from the platform, sir?” Lionus asked, addressing the Commander.

“Your fraternization with her isn’t something you should be constantly inviting, Corporal, given the gravity of the situation we’re in,” Captain Grant replied darkly as Melanie seemed to be making note of what she could see in the trunk, and glancing at the hillside to plan out where everything would go.

“I don’t recall volunteering, Captain, and my job requires trust and camaraderie with my patients, regardless of situation,” the doctor stated firmly, opening his mouth to continue.

Martellis interjected before the men could start another argument, or some kind of altercation. “The Captain’s concerns are shared by me, though he was out of line to make the assumption he did. Lionus, you’ll remain on ground with myself to assess the items, Grant you’ll be stationed on the platform to oversee her progress and watch to make sure she doesn’t attempt to hide or misrepresent anything.”

“Sir--” Grant began to protest, his face going pale, but the Commander simply raised a hand.

“My level of fraternization with her thus far is also a concern, Captain,” he breathed quietly, Lionus turning his head to pretend he couldn’t hear. “I understand the discomfort, but your safety is guaranteed.”

Grant clenched his jaw shut, his muscles becoming tense as he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he replied, sternly but not maliciously.

Chapter Text

“Melanie,” Martellis called as she reached in to start removing items. “Captain Grant will observe you unpacking from that platform there, if it’s stable.”

Her large eyes darted between the three men as she hesitated before turning her attention to the open lid, standing to lean and press on it with a hand. “Yes, sir, it’s sturdy enough-- if you’re sure,” she added with a hint of reluctance and discomfort at the end.

“I am sure, please help him up,” the Commander called back, and Melanie knelt again, opening her hands as she had for Martellis and Lionus previously; one hand flat to the ground and palm-up, one hand hovering open in the air alongside it to wrap around the torso.

“I can stand without being grabbed,” the Captain barked at her, stepping forward. He walked directly onto her hand, his weight shifting strangely on the bizarre terrain.

“Sir, it won’t be a smooth lift, I’m afraid you’ll lose balance,” she explained, her voice and face clearly displaying genuine concern.

“I am ordering you not to,” he said sharply again, and turned to face the trunk.

Melanie made a pleading face toward the other two men, Lionus’s expression one of annoyance, and the Commander’s expression looking very, very tired. Martellis lifted a hand and waved at her twice with the back of it, signaling for her to continue with the order.

A low groan, more like a whine, left her as she moved her floating hand to line up against the other, hopefully giving him more space to fall should he stumble. As she lifted, his feet immediately staggered into a wider stance at the motion and she tried not to over adjust to catch him-- she still had almost two years of practicing this with Henry behind her.

Grant’s arms hovered awkwardly with nothing to grab onto as he stood, his stance spread between her two palms, and he looked up to see her examining if he was ok, her motion having stopped.

Martellis could hear him swear under his breath from where he stood, the Commander sighing tiredly as Grant kneeled, placing a hand on one of her fingers for balance though jerking it away almost immediately at the sensation. Melanie completed the lift, bringing her hands toward the lid and the Captain standing and walking off before she stopped moving, staggering slightly on the landing.

Grant took a moment to collect himself, adjusting his jacket and hat before turning sharply to look into the trunk, his hands clasping behind his back tightly. 

“You can start unloading on Grant’s signal,” Martellis shouted as himself and Lionus moved to walk toward the base of the hill, where she would be laying the items.

“Sir?” Melanie asked quietly, kneeling again in front of the chest and looking down at the Captain.

“You may begin,” Grant stated, his voice not as sharp as it was previously as his breath attempted to catch up with his still rapidly-beating heart. He was easily able to brace himself against the slight shifts and tremors she sent through the chest as she reached in, taking out items one after the other.

“You did very well, Captain, my apologies for being unsteady--” she began in a whisper.

“Allowing myself to be patronized will not do anything to correct this situation,” he snapped in offense, interrupting her. “Do as you were ordered.”

Grimacing with a nod, she slowly went through her items and occasionally had to be directed by Grant, who was suspicious every time she attempted to move something to the side to prioritize another first. She could tell the men were just getting more and more confused as she brought more items over, and she was glad they weren’t asking too many detailed questions about items that were so obviously foreign to them given she wouldn’t know what to say about much.

The boldly printed label on the supplement powder seemed to have their attention the longest as she attempted to explain it was essentially a dry combination of vitamins she could mix with water or other fluids to create a drink to help her ensure she was getting enough. The tylenol bottle escaped much scrutiny simply by being obviously pills.

Her emergency sewing kit was straightforward, but anything sharp was put in the confiscated pile.

The multi-tool, pocketknife, and set of utensils were also confiscated along with her matches and lighter. Her spare boots, long-coat and sun hat were laid out against the hill with little discussion, and she was then permitted simply to state the kind of clothing-- ‘Pants, sweater, nice pants, skirt,’-- she was pulling out and folding it into a single pile instead of displaying it to the men. Several pairs of underwear and socks weren’t likely the things they wanted waved about on shore.

“It’s called a wetsuit,” she stated, holding up the black and blue bodysuit to it’s full size infront of her, as if she was handling her own silhouette. She knelt down near the Commander and Corporal, stretching the fabric with her hands to show them. “It protects your body from cooler water temperatures and can make it easier to swim. I had a pair of synthetic flippers that would strap to my feet, and a full mask for snorkeling, but those are likely floating as debris or on the boat still. The gloves and fabric footwear match it.”

“The colors and pattern of it,” Lionus began, pointing at it questioningly.

“I think it’s meant to mimic the water’s surface, to a degree, and to avoid confusing sharks and other marine life.”

“I see,” Lionus responded. “As you were.”

“These are swimming goggles,” she said next, hauling out the blue-tinted pair. “Also used to help with swimming, particularly in salt water.”

“Why are they colored?” Lionus asked. He seemed fixated on the extremely bright colors, and their wild varieties, on basically everything she owned.

“Helps to dim light and prevent harsh refractions when there’s water drops on them, I believe,” Melanie offered, holding them out for the men and grunting quietly.

“Are you alright?” Martellis asked, looking up at her face and she flashed a forced smile.

“Just sore legs, sir. Lots of ups and downs happening.”

“Sorry, Miss!” The Corporal called as Martellis hesitated, realizing the literal positions he was repeatedly asking the wounded woman to be in. “Just a few more times for us. If it’s easier, you can lay things next to yourself and at the end we’ll get you to move it in just a few short trips so it’s less hard on you.”

Melanie smiled warmly, turning to the Commander with a nod. “By your leave, sir?”

“You have it,” he said, waving at her as he and Lionus turned to walk back toward the chest. “Thank you, Ethridge.”

“In this together, Commander. Fraternization considered, I’ll take my reprimands as needed, but for now we can’t afford to all behave as though she’s unwanted.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing, Corporal, more than I am at liberty to say,” Martellis said. “But I have to insist that you allow Grant to continue as he is. It may be necessary, depending on how the King’s Guard sees this.”

“Ah,” Lionus offered, quietly. “Yes, sir.”

She had taken out a number of soaps in multiple varieties-- dish soap, shampoo, conditioner, body soap, bar soap, detergent-- and laid them out for the men to inspect. Comments about the smells and variety passed by swiftly. Two flashlights and one small area light were displayed and demonstrated to much excitement, and she answered several questions as best as she could before just admitting that she would not be able to explain it’s inner machinations well as she was a lay-person in that area of study.

The last several items in the trunk were a 5’x10’ tarp, two large blue towels and a small stack of face cloths, two blankets, a bedroll with sleeping bag, her journal and a set of pencils.

“You had packed well,” Captain Grant commented loudly to her, his suspicious nature on full display.

“I was taught survival skills; knowing I would be on a longer ship voyage, I worked to have as much supply as possible in case of… well, almost any eventuality. I’m obviously under prepared for anything like this,” Melanie replied to him, the aching in her legs helping to whittle away her patience with Grant’s antagonism. She had come to feel that the Captain was in full belief that she was an invading force, intentionally here to ruin his life. 

“Is that all?” Martellis called up to them both.

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

“Do you feel the chest needs to be further inspected, Captain?” 

“No, sir.” Grant’s reply was very sharp, and very short. He absolutely did not want to be placed inside the box.

“Return to the ground when you’re ready,” The Commander responded. “You can close the box for now, Melanie, and we’ll discuss your items. You’re free to rest again at your leisure.”

She held her hands out for Grant and they both quickly got through the lift without much other interaction, Grant looking positively ruffled as he approached the Commander swiftly.

“Should I retrieve my knife for the confiscation-pile and help the men move any of the wreckage, sir?” If there was something about Melanie that Martellis could be said to like, it was her initiative. 

“Retrieve the knife and place it with the other items, but avoid disturbing the men for the time being,” he replied after a moment of thought.

“Also, sir,” she asked hesitantly, in a breathy whisper to avoid her voice from traveling. “I… I’ll need to relieve myself. Is there a more private location for that?”

Martellis nodded; Lionus had already thought of the logistics while she had been asleep earlier. “You’ll be escorted to the treeline, it should be enough to cover you.”

“Yes, sir,” she began, sounding unsure. “What… after?”

“Several of the men will bury it--”

“No, sir,” she interrupted him bluntly, her cheeks a brilliant red. “I can’t allow it. I’ll bury it myself.”

“This is not a matter for your permission,” the Captain barked.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Melanie asked, locking eyes with the Commander. The Captain shot him a look.

“Denied, I-”

“Then I’ll speak freely regardless because I’m a prisoner and not a soldier,” she bluntly interjected, continuing to speak as the men watched on in a range of expressions from confusion to offense. “If you would have asked for volunteers to do something that vile, I still would not permit it. Yourselves and your men have already tolerated more than enough of my impositions, I will not ask for that, and am capable of handling such.”

“Your impositions are--” Grant started, angrily, before the Commander held an arm out to hold him back from approaching her.

“This is not a matter for discussion--” Martellis began.

“Who will be escorting me?” Her eyes were sharp, and her jaw set.

“Corporal Ethridge, and the men--”

The three men staggered backwards in surprise as she stood swiftly, announced by a loud sigh.

“Melanie!” The Commander shouted at her back as she turned to walk away, down the beach, leaving the men standing dumbly.

“My apologies!” Her voice rang out, causing the men to halt their efforts as she pointed toward the pile of debris as she moved toward it. “I’m required to retrieve something, I’ll be quick-- sorry for the interruption.”

“Should I order the men--” Grant began, his rage making him practically shake.

“Sir, just hold and see what--” Lionus started, holding an arm out in front of the Commander as if trying to hold him back.

Martellis simply stared, watching her. Several of the men nearest the pile seemed to try and ask her something, though they couldn’t be heard at a distance. Melanie’s voice, however, was able to carry back to them.

“I need something like a trowel for myself, the Commander’s ordered I be the one to dig my own latrine and deal with that.”

“For god’s sake,” Grant spat.

“I’ll begin heading toward the treeline to direct her, we’ll make it look as intentional as possible,” Lionus said, not waiting for a reply as he took long, jogging strides toward the hill.

“She’s not wrong,” was all Martellis could say as Grant stood, silently seething. “She’s not a soldier; her cooperation thus far has been freely given and more than would’ve been expected of anyone else.”

“Peter,” Grant’s voice was level and dark, “I don’t believe you fully understand the danger she represents.”

“Daniel, I am acutely aware of the danger she represents!” Martellis shouted back. “I am also acutely aware that she just saved our faces-- both of our faces-- in front of my men.”

The Captain’s rage immediately waned, a look of shame overcoming him. “Forgive me, Commander.”

Martellis reached out, grabbing Grant’s shoulder firmly as he looked him in the eye. “You are under strain that I never would’ve asked of you if given any option, but this is a matter of duty now. I need you, in the face of the unknown, to help me lead these men, and to adjust as best as you can in the situations we have found ourselves in, and that we will remain in for the foreseeable future.”

“Yes, sir,” the blonde man he could see the memory of youth within responded, heavily and with respect.

“You are the one I trust the most; in this situation, and in any other. We are all, the Corporal included, doing what is best for the Watch and all it entails.” Peter fixed both hands on the shoulders of one of his oldest and truest companions, sighing. “So I ask this of you, above anyone else-- please do not shoot her.”

Daniel chucked in spite of himself, taking a steadying breath as his emotions were slowly put back in check. “By your command, sir.”

“I commend you, Captain, for your resilience,” Martellis said. 

Melanie’s voice carried to them again from her discussion, now with a crowd of eight men or more around her. “This should do; thank you, all, for your work. I’ll request permission from the Commander to lend a hand when I come back.”

They corrected their positions, turning to watch her as she returned with a pointed piece of wood in hand, looking somewhat similar to a shovel blade. Her face quickly went from friendly to embarrassed as she turned her back on the men, and in a massive, sweeping motion she picked up her knife which still had the ropes tied to it from when it was dragged to its current place.

The Captain and Commander stood in silence as she approached them again, holding the knife over her heart and bowing shortly. “Thank you, sir,” she said genuinely and clearly enough to carry back to the soldiers, and she stepped past them to place it among her confiscated belongings, gather a change of clothes, and start a slow walk up to the treeline with Lionus, catching up to him swiftly. With much relief to the two men still standing on the grass embankment, neither her nor Lionus seemed to speak to one another as they made their way.

Chapter Text

The sound of water splashing abruptly onto the shrubs and rocks of the forest was accompanied by a pained grunt.

“Try not to take too long, Miss!” Lionus yelled over his shoulder, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“I’m working on it--” Melanie grunted back, the sound of branches cracking and breaking as she moved. “It’s hard to wring the water out, my hands are sore.”

Lionus frowned, sitting on a mossy rock and resting after the long jog here. Being as large as she was, Melanie insisted on traveling further into the forest to try to make sure she had as much privacy as possible. She had finished with her business at the latrine, buried it, and had now moved several feet away to change out of her wet, damaged clothing.

She leaned against a tree for support, it’s trunk about the width of her thigh, and felt it’s roots shift in the ground beneath her. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, again, for the third time since they had entered the woods. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“We’ll talk when you’re changed, Miss!” Lionus yelled once more to her.

The wet thud and crunching of her jeans dropping to the ground with her shirt and sports bra, landing heavily on smaller saplings and old dead branches was one of the few sounds in the area aside from wind rustling the higher limbs, the birds and most of the other wildlife had fled on their approach. She rolled down her wet boxer briefs, doing a quick check of her naked body. She had several scratches across her front, a few small cuts on her midriff. Her jeans had protected most of her legs from minor cuts and scratches, but she was heavily bruised.

She took a deep breath in the quiet. If she didn’t think too hard, or look too closely, it felt like she was just in the woods where she grew up. Quiet and peaceful. The warm, early-afternoon breeze helped dry her as she started to unfold the fresh clothing she had brought with her.

“Feeling better, Miss?” Lionus asked with a tired smile as she came walking back over, her wet shirt wrapped and tied around the bundle of her shed clothes so she could carry it in one hand. She nodded, looking carefully around before carefully bringing herself down to sit next to him. She was in black pants of a lighter fabric, and a short-sleeved turtleneck shirt in olive green with decorative buttons up and down one side.

“Yes, if you can permit me just… a few more minutes to rest in the quiet,” she sighed. A deep silence passed between them as she rolled her head back, eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” she offered, softly.

“Ma’am, it’ll be ok,” Lionus called up, coughing. His voice was becoming raspy, she adjusted herself to stretch out, her bare feet tearing up smaller bushes and pushing rocks out of her way as she lay down, resting her head on her arm so it was closer to him. “Commander will likely need to have some words with you, but in truth you likely helped him more than you realize.”

“I’m already the last thing any of you wanted to deal with today, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I made any of you have to deal with what just happened over there,” she responded. Lionus laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, yes, that’s part of it, but telling the others it was his idea when they knew it wasn’t-- it shows respect for him, despite your reaction.”

Melanie’s brow furrowed as she looked at him curiously. “How did they know he didn’t order it?”

Lionus stared at her. “...Miss,” he started, carefully. She frowned with embarrassment.

“Ah, I’m that loud,” she said, Lionus chuckling. The giant woman groaned, trying to roll onto her back but larger rocks made it too uncomfortable. “They seem to be getting a bit more comfortable with me, at least. No one decided to drown themselves when I got close last time.”

“It’ll come with time, I’m sure.”

She hummed doubtfully. “Pretty sure the Captain wants me dead, so he’ll at least need a bit more time than others, and it’s only these men who’ve even seen me so far… the rest will have to deal with me at some point and it starts all over again.”

“I don’t know if it’ll make you feel much better, Melanie,” Lionus said after a moment, “but we are the smallest company in the smallest branch in the militia. The Coastal Watches were a proud jewel of the forces back in the day, but since the end of the last… conflict-- I suppose War isn’t the right word-- ended, the Watches have become at best a general police and medical force for the local villages and townships.”

Her hazel eyes watched him as she listened intently.

“This affords us a lot of extra intimacy among the ranks. We still require the rank and file to be observed, and for order to be maintained, but it’s why I’m able to push the envelope so far with the Commander,” he continued, rubbing the back of his leg as he stretched it. “That closeness I feel is going to be a boon with this situation. There’s more trust.”

“That is good to hear,” she admitted. “I just really, sincerely hope I don’t strain those relationships too much.”

“We’ve been through a lot, Miss. I feel like you’ll be relatively easy in comparison,” he grinned. “Just do your best to listen to instruction from here on out, I’ll make sure until Henry is back up on his feet that you’ve got someone saying your piece when needed.”

“Lionus,” she said warmly, “you don’t have to.”

“The truth of the matter is, Miss, if you don’t mind me saying-- I had enough of a favor with the Commander that I could’ve walked off that beach and disappeared and he wouldn’t have had any say in the matter.”

“I appreciate your bravery, and your compassion. It is… sorely welcome, right now.”

They smiled at each other a moment before she sighed, looking up into the canopy to try and judge where the sun was. “I suppose we should head back before we both get in trouble?”

“Aye, Miss, that’d be best,” he said, groaning as he stood up. She followed suit with grunts of her own, sitting up. She looked back over her shoulder to him.

“Would you like a ride, perhaps?”

Melanie and the Corporal had been out of view for over ten minutes when shouts of Colors on Approach came up the beach, Martellis and Grant having joined the rest of the soldiers to oversee the cleanup efforts. 

“It’s Wells,” Grant reported, Martellis nodding as the horse and rider turned in search of them.

“Flag him down,” the Commander replied, ordering the men to stop what they were doing and rest for a moment.

“Report, Lieutenant,” the Captain ordered after Wells had made it to them, leaving his horse to be tied to the makeshift post with the other two. 

“The base is aware that we have an information-sensitive situation here, sir,” Wells began, his voice having a strong, commanding tone to it. “Lemuels is being tended to in the medical wing, with only Kendrick March and Devon Harris permitted to tend to him in the event he comes to and begins talking.”

“They’re aware there is another rescued person, but that the person will be detained elsewhere. I did not feel comfortable giving any further information than that.”

“Good work, Lieutenant,” the Commander said with visible relief. “Did you get any information on the North Road Patrols before leaving the barracks?”

“Yes, sir, they had sent riders up to make the clearing as fast as possible, and the night-shift men were informed to keep their knowledge of the situation and events to themselves, and to report for transfer to the training grounds as soon as they have your leave.”

The Captain and the Commander nodded, sharing a look of understanding.

“Sir, if I may--” Wells began, hesitating until he received approval from the Commander. “The men here were due to come off shift hours ago-- while I understand this is an emergency situation, the other shifts at the barracks are willing and ready to come down to relieve or to help with the work at hand. I know there’s logistics to consider, but wanted to pass the information to you.”

Grant spoke immediately to Martellis. “We can start having her travel up the coast to the end of the north road now, by the time she and the men we send with her arrive, the patrols should be completed at least as far as that, if they hadn’t already started doubling back.”

“Agreed, Captain; we’ll begin to send them as soon as she and the Corporal return. Once that’s underway, Wells, you’ll be sent back to retrieve the next shift and we can begin the rotation.”

“Actually, Sir,” Wells interjected with a frown. “The Staff Sergeant requires at least yourself and the Corporal back at base to advise of what’s happening down here. He sent the initial communications off to the Duke and the King’s Guard, but all he did was request they send a representative. He’d like yourself and the Corporal back immediately, with the Captain returning after the next shift is directed.”

“Understood, Wells, thank you for relaying,” Martellis said. “Captain…”

Grant tried to maintain a neutral expression; with the Corporal and Commander returning to base, that would leave him to lead the troop to the training grounds up the north road. The Commander gestured toward the beach.

“Select five men from the beach, ideally the better marchers, and brief them on the escort mission,” the Commander said. “Select Miller, he’s bold enough to volunteer either way. You’ll remain here with Wells to oversee and direct operations; once you place someone in charge from the next shift, return to barracks.”

 Grant nodded sharply at the command, relieved and appreciative. “Yes, sir.”

 Movement on the hill caught all of their attention as Melanie strode back into view, a hand over her eyes to scan the beach and locate their positions, Corporal Ethridge sitting in her other hand.

 “Glad to see she’s on our side,” Wells offered in reverence.

 “Yes,” the Commander replied before Grant could make any comment; he would try to keep employing the strategy of earlier. “She’s been very cooperative, it’s been a help to our efforts.”

 “I’ll start directing the men your way, sir,” the Captain stated, striking off across the beach with Wells in tow. Martellis turned, waving over his head toward Melanie and the Corporal as they approached.

 “How long should it take to get there?” Melanie asked from her seat on the black rock outcropping after the Commander finished explaining the plan to her.

 “If you make good time, we hope for you and the men to arrive by sunset or shortly after,” he replied.

 “Will I be helping transport things to the grounds, sir? Like my clothes and the confiscated items? Should they be left here for the others to transport later?”

 Ethridge locked eyes with Martellis, nodding to him. “Pack the items into your trunk if you feel you can transport that without much loss of time; keep the confiscated items separate and when you arrive place them in a different area from your belongings,” Martellis ordered. “The Captain will be sending the escort group up here shortly. Myself and Corporal Ethridge will have to return to the barracks, but once our work is finished there we’ll travel to the grounds as soon as possible though it may be tomorrow by the time things are done.”

 “Yes, sir,” she affirmed with a hint of disappointment and discomfort. “The trunk has wheels to make transportation easier, though I’m unsure how well they may handle whatever road we may wind up on.” The Commander waved toward the trunk.

 “You may begin packing,” he said, and she set to work folding and arranging things.

 “Well, Ma’am,” the bold voice of Edmund reached her as she closed the trunk and moved to lock it. She turned with a wide smile toward him. “Looks like I’ll be giving you a grand tour!”

 “I’m glad to hear it,” she responded quietly, draping an arm over her knee as she looked on. “I’ve just finished getting ready; thank you for all your work today.”

 “No problem, Ma’am! We’ll be at the grounds before the last call for supper with me setting the pace!” He laughed.

 “I look forward to it.” Melanie was filled with relief, at least she had a decent rapport with someone on this trip. She finished locking the chest and stood, quickly tipping it up onto it’s far side; the tight-packed contents shifted minimally as the ball wheels rolled with a little resistance on the grass.

 “By your leave, Commander,” she said to Martellis after he had finished mounting his horse. He held a fist over his head and she mimicked the motion, Edmund shouting ‘All clear! Move out!’ to the men beneath her as they started to jog up the shoreline. The giant woman flashed a warm smile toward the Commander and Lionus as they wheeled their horses in the opposite direction, taking off, and turned to embark on her next journey.

Chapter Text

 “We’re taking on water!”

 The voice was familiar, almost intimately; a man? No, a woman-- no, a man.

 “There’s damage to the hull!”

 A lantern smashed across the deck, oil and flame spreading before being extinguished by pummeling rain. Pale, slimy tentacles grapple the guard rails, reaching out across the ship as it lists dangerously to port; someone falls from the ratlines into the sea with a shout.

 He slides forward, feet facing a sheer drop from a polished surface, lights above flickering and blinking as a massive arm comes down to block his path over the edge.

 “Henry!” The woman shouts to him.

 “Lemuels!” The man cries to him.

 Water, icy cold, surrounds him, waves tossing him back and forth, rocks in the distance; black and towering-- no, a wall of piled smooth boulders. The sky is dark, the rain is unending.

 Warmth, light, stillness; he remembers this. This is how they first met. Floating in warm water, her hands beneath him; warm and safe, and terribly alone.

 Henry’s eyes opened blearily, his limbs heavy; he was not floating. The light was not directly above him, a pale white-- it was to his side, a warm yellow glow from an oil lamp. It was so small, like a toy. He could pick it up between two fingers.

 His arm was strapped down, unable to move toward the doll-furniture next to him, and he took a sharp inhale to let oxygen into his body again; to hopefully clear this hazy fog his brain was sitting in.

 “Lemuels,” a man said from the doorway, a young boy standing behind him. “You’re awake.”

 “Peter,” Henry croaked, recollection landed on him even heavier than the thick sheets he was under. “Peter-- where is she?”

 “Shhh,” the miniscule but tall man said as he walked toward the bed. Henry’s eyes clamped shut as his head ached and pounded; none of this felt right. “You’re coming off of some very strong sedatives; give it a moment. Here, have some water.”

 A glass was held to his lips and he drank, slowly, groaning as the headache pulsed for a moment that felt like hours. As it waned, he opened his eyes again. Peter stepped back and sat down, taking off his hat and placing it on the bedside table beside the lamp.

 “Where is she?” Henry repeated, clearer now.

 “She’s safe, and not far,” the bearded man replied; Henry had never seen him with a beard before, and his hair was showing small streaks of silver. He had always thought Peter was incapable of letting his face grow hair. “Take your time, Henry, there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

 The prone man looked at himself and his surroundings. His right arm was strapped to the bed rails, and there was a needle attached to a drip-bag inserted into it’s forearm. His left arm was in a cast, slung around his neck loosely as it lay across his chest.

“Ah, you’re awake sir!” Another voice came from the hallway. Henry turned to see a mop of wavy, light-brown hair over a pair of bright hazel eyes entering the room, drying his hands on a towel as he went. “I’m Corporal Ethridge sir, do you remember me?”

“Yes,” Henry replied. “Yes, I remember you from the beach.”

“Very good, sir,” the man said with a chipper tone that was betrayed by the bags under his eyes. He crossed in front of Henry, passing a window that showed night outside.

“How long have I been out?” He asked.

“All day, sir,” Ethridge said, approaching him and checking the medical equipment.

“It’s just about 9 at night,” Peter said, checking an ornate pocket watch he pulled from the breast of his heavily decorated coat. Henry saw that he too, looked exhausted.

“Sorry about the strap sir, the boys tell me you were having some mighty active dreams. I can remove it for you now if you don’t mind my reach,” Ethridge explained. Henry nodded, and the Corporal leaned across him to undo the large buckle and unwrap the heavily padded leather cuff.

“What happened after I left? Is she ok?” Henry asked, looking between the both of them.

“Get the door, Lionus,” Peter said softly, and the Corporal nodded.

“Yes, Commander,” he replied, stepping away and waving to the young man in the hall, who closed the door for him. Peter nodded at him again and jerked his head toward Henry, grabbing a spare glass of water for himself. “Melanie is fine, sir; banged up pretty rough for bruises and scrapes, but she was tended to and was moving fine.”

“She’s been safely at her holding site for hours now, we received word back just after supper,” Peter added.

“Is she ok?” Henry stressed, desperately.

“She has a wonderful laugh, sir,” Lionus offered gently with a warm smile. “We’re treating her well and she’s treating us in kind-- more so, if I can be so bold with the door closed.”

“Ethridge,” Peter warned in low tones, the other man nodding his head.

“Sorry, sir.”

Henry sighed with relief, sinking back into the inclined pillows as he closed his eyes again. “Good, good…”

“Lemuels,” Peter broke the silence after a long moment, his voice heavy and careful. “I was originally going to simply wait for my answers until you could be interrogated by a more proper authority for these matters, but I confess I can not wait for that.”

“The matter of us is that serious, is it?” He asked, opening his eyes again. Lionus pulled up an extra chair from near another bed in the room and sat down as well.

“I risk a potential court-martial for asking or saying anything that may give you an opportunity to prepare answers for the Noble Guard, yes,” Peter said gravely.

A knock came at the door; two short quick knocks, followed by a sharper, louder knock.

“Enter, Captain,” Peter called, and the door quickly opened and closed, Daniel Grant entering the room and removing his hat.

“Daniel,” Henry said in greeting.

“Lemuels.” Grant’s voice was softer than Peter expected; there was no sense of venom or curtness. There was almost a sound of longing in it.

“Captain?” The Commander prompted him.

“Nothing to report, but while he’s awake we do need to settle the question of her care,” the Captain sighed, looking to Lionus.

“Ah, yes,” the Doctor began, running a hand through the wavy brown locks again and turning to Henry. “Sir, I was hoping to ask you if…” he stalled, coming back with a different question. “In regards to Miss Melanie’s health, we would like to--”

“We need to know if we require your permission for her to undress for medical care,” Daniel interrupted bluntly, like wielding a bat. Lionus seemed to take no offense, and actually appeared relieved, if awkward, that the question was out there.

“I… my permission?” Henry stammered. Lionus’ eyes darted around the room in discomfort, Daniel’s features sharp and focused, while Peter’s face was empathetic. Henry slowly came to understand the question, and he felt disgusted. “No, you do not require my permission; only her consent. Which would be the same regardless of any relationship we may have-- I am not an archaic, controlling beast.” He spat.

“Henry,” Peter tried to calm him.

“No,” he repeated, firmly as he looked between the three of them. “She is independent, as am I. Our relationship is not of that nature, and never has been.”

“Thank you for clarifying, we simply had to know,” Daniel offered, blunt still but with no malice or judgment within. The tense moment eased itself out in silence as the Commander adjusted his position, taking a deep breath before addressing them all.

“Whatever is said in this room does not leave any of us; I want that to be clear, understood, and affirmed before I continue with any conversation,” Peter said, gesturing for Grant to pull up a chair as well.

A chorus of ‘Aye’ and ‘Aye sir’ met him, and he sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Henry, we need to know what happened to you and the crew of the Massengale after it vanished.”

Henry’s face was like stone; a still expression that could be construed as neutral to those who were not familiar with the mask of a haunted man.

“We set off on a routine trip, under a contract from the King, to survey the outer islands on the southeastern side of the peninsula,” he began gravely, after a moment of thought. “Gibson, Neilson, Forbes and myself were the original contract holders, but we were afforded the Topsail Schooner by means of the advance pay, and we used the excess to hire two more men; Gerald Bunt and Sebastian Rowe.”

“We wound up stuck in port an extra 4 days after our contracted start date due to bad weather, and were pressured out on the fifth day when there was a break in swells, despite knowing the storm was coming. We had made it past the barrier stones, and kept them in sight most of the day until we had no choice but to veer further into open waters and try to make it to Grand Stranding, on Isle Collette.” He reached for the glass of water again, taking a long draught before continuing.

“I had never seen so much rain before that day; it felt like each drop was a bucketful. The winds picked up and rapidly changed from bow to starboard, and we had no time to fix the sails. It was all we could do to keep the girl together until the storm had passed, and when it died down we had lost almost all but the gaff and the foresail. Neilson had been lost; his lifeline had been tied to the bow railing and it had been ripped off. We never found sign of him. Bunt had taken a spill and was unconscious for most of a day. We sailed west by compasspoint for two days in near constant rain, rotating men to bail out the boat as water continued to collect below deck.”

“One night the clouds broke, and we could make out what we thought to be an immense mountain off our portside in the dark. We went to weigh anchor, and it collided and snagged on something; we thought a whale at first, as it pulled the boat closer to shore, but it didn’t surface for air. It became more frenzied as the light grew, and eventually it’s tentacles slithered onto the deck from the sides.”

Lionus visibly shuddered, his face pale. Henry’s arms bristled, and he felt cold all over again. “We fought it for what must’ve been an hour, through dawnbreak. It was tearing the Massengale to ribbons, and the ship rolled to her side and reset twice; I’m not sure who were the first lost. I had tied myself to the wheel, and the first roll had turned the rope where I couldn’t reach the knot. I assumed I would drown.”

“The swell was still considerable; I only had brief moments of line of sight to the shore, so I never saw her enter the water. When she grabbed the squid and tore it bodily from the hull and deck… that was the last I recall of the incident.”

“I awoke sometime later in her care. Melanie had salvaged most of the Massengale’s remains, and had gathered the other four bodies. I was the sole survivor.”

Peter’s hand landed gently on his arm, an empathetic look of understanding a deep loss. The men gave Henry time to collect himself again as he took more water.

“The Massengale was deemed unsavable, and she was dismantled. Even if she could’ve been repaired, I couldn’t crew a vessel that size alone. Melanie and I lived together while she attempted to do anything she could to help me return safely home, or try to find some way that I could live easily there. We eventually settled on her sailing here with what navigation information I could give, and we set off over a week ago in her sloop. We hit a storm, ran into something in the dark. We were tossed, the rudder was broken, and we took on water; whether from the hull damage or from just the immense rain, I don’t know.” Henry shrugged, flinching slightly at the pain in his broken arm.

“I never thought we’d make it. I thought I would only ever have memories. After almost two years, I’m home now.”

The three men around him simply stared, Lionus’ eyes darting to the other two men in aggressive confusion. Henry hesitated, looking between Peter and Daniel, their faces weathered and concerned.

“How long were you gone?” Daniel asked, carefully.

“Just past a year and eight months,” Henry repeated, looking closely at his old academy friends.

“You do not speak of that to anyone else, Henry,” Peter said firmly after a quiet, tense moment passed between them all. “Say you had been shipwrecked elsewhere before meeting her. Your accounts of your time together can remain the same; it’s what she’ll recall. But for the time before her, you were stranded elsewhere and you do not recall for how long.”

“What?” Henry asked, his heart beginning to pound. “Why? What’s the point of-”

“You’ve been missing for over four years, Henry.”

Henry’s heart pounded and his head ached. “Impossible,” he breathed. “It’s only been…”

“There will be more time to think about this. We’re glad you’re back, and that’s the most important thing right now,” Peter said soothingly, Henry staring at him as it finally began to make sense why the Commander’s hair had gotten so much silver in it; how he had managed to finally grow a beard that distracted from the lines in the corners of his mouth. His crows’ feet were so much more obvious. Peter continued, “it is information not meant for ears other than ours for the time being, that’s all. If you can, tell me a bit more about how you and Melanie were able to find your way back here.”

“She had some experience with sailing, but never long-range over fully open water.” Henry admitted this as if it was something shameful, but he had always had that kind of attitude when it came to sailing when he, Peter and Daniel had been in the Academy. “I believe she had said she had never been out of sight of shore. Using a compass and astronomy, we were able to at least pin down a direction to start. She offered to study, train and prepare for two weeks of travel-- if we had found no sign by the end of the 6th day, we would return to her home port.”

“Did she seem sure that you would find anything?” Daniel asked, crossing one knee over the other.

“Not even remotely,” Henry replied quietly, distantly. His eyes dropped to his lap and he seemed to vanish into memories for a moment. “I… her home is significantly different to here. Different technology, different uses for it; It took me months to grapple with the information I was being presented. She had an extreme reason to doubt that where I came from existed, because all of the evidence was that if it did, someone would’ve found it.”

Peter’s eyes scanned Henry’s face, trying to read his emotion as he continued to stare at nothing, the man’s breathy whisper causing shivers up his spine. “So many ships…”

Henry seemed to shake himself out of his state, taking a sharp breath as if coming up for air from a cold tide. “I do not mean to say that she didn’t believe this place existed, she just… didn’t believe we would reach it. But she wanted to try, for me.”

“She went out of her way to bring you home,” Lionus said softly, nodding. He smiled warmly to himself, glad he had gone out of his way to treat her well earlier.

“She went out of her way to care for me from the moment she rescued me,” Henry corrected him. “I don’t know what would’ve happened had we managed to turn back to her home and that was to become the rest of my life. Now that we’ve made it here, my priority is to try and do for her what she did for me, even just a fraction. So please, let me see her again.”

“You will, sir,” Lionus said before the other men could interject. “But we have to give your leg another day or two of rest at least to make sure it’s just a sprain and not any missed fractures.” The Corporal’s eyes sparkled kindly, and a smile came across his face. “She’ll be happier to see you if you aren’t on a stretcher, I think.”

Henry sighed, chuckling tiredly. “You’re probably right,” he conceded, leaning back into the pillows behind him.

“We’ll be seeing her tomorrow morning, as soon as we can get there after sunrise,” Peter said. “We have a large amount of supplies to transport to where she’s being kept, which you do not and will not know until the Nobility informs us that it’s alright for you to know. For questioning purposes, separating you will give both of your stories more credibility in interrogation.”

“Commander,” Daniel’s voice warned.

“Just take care of her; however you have to,” Henry asked them. “I mean, if you have to enlist her I’m sure she wouldn’t object.”

“She already volunteered,” Daniel said, almost dully, “so there’s no need to worry there.”

“What?” Henry replied, confused.

“She took the Knight’s Oath when we first approached her,” Peter explained, which did nothing to ease Henry’s confusion. “She told me you had taught it to her, as a way to… ease tensions, I believe was her phrasing.”

Henry’s head fell back further into the pillows as he groaned, his eyes closed. “I meant with the King,” he sighed as he rubbed his face with his free hand. “She was to perform it in front of the King to ease tensions and win favour for her liberty. She knew that.” He turned to look at the Commander with a tired but amused smirk. “I can’t imagine it was the most accurate or noble display. You must’ve looked quite regal, if she confused you for the King.”

“She was begging us to find you,” the blunt tone of the Captain escaped Daniel as he stood from his seat, adjusting his clothing. His voice was clear, precise, and wielded with a force that did not invite argument as he added: “And it was perfect.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised as he watched the Captain give a tired salute. “I’ll be turning in for the night, Commander,” Daniel said amidst the stunned silence. Peter nodded, giving the Captain his permission.

“As you should, Captain. I’ll be following shortly. Dismissed.”

Henry’s mouth was set as if he had been slapped, and he looked slightly ashamed. “Thank you,” he said quietly after Daniel had gone and Lionus and Peter were both standing and preparing to leave for the night. “Thank you for saving us.”

“There’s still work to do yet, sir,” Lionus said, a warm smile softening his words. “Just be sure not to mention Melanie to any of the medics who don’t already know her-- rumors are the fastest disease to spread in the barracks, and they’re nasty things.”

“Good man, Lionus,” Peter commended as he stretched. “Everything you’ve told us of Melanie and her motives, her ambitions… I hope you’ll tell it again. I’ll try to check in tomorrow before we leave if you have any messages for us to bring to her, but depending on the situation it may be impossible.”

“Understood, Peter. Commander.”

Peter smiled to himself as he headed for the door. A memory of his younger self was celebrating jubilantly; Henry finally had to call him ‘Commander’.

Chapter Text

Melanie awoke, still in yesterday’s clothes, shivering in her sleeping bag beneath two ten-foot-tall pines. Her bedroll had been a welcome cushion against the cleared, but hard, ground beneath her. Her red-leather long coat was spread on top of her as extra protection in case it had rained, as there hadn’t been enough light left after they had arrived at the training grounds and finished eating to properly string her tarp; though she wasn’t sure if that particular initiative would’ve been appreciated.

The cool, wet smell of the forest in the pale pre-dawn light was almost euphoric in the face of her soreness, her stiffness, the tenderness of her bruises and scrapes as she carefully rolled over. The dark silhouettes of the training camp building and the extended scaffolding on either side of it stood at the other end of the wide, open field. A small campfire with two men beside it sat in the middle-distance, about 10 feet or so from herself. They were chatting in quiet, casual voices and didn’t seem bothered by her movements. They were too close, to Melanie’s immediate disappointment, to not see her if she decided to sneak away for a bathroom break.

“Sorry,” was all she could think to whisper, one of the silhouetted men just about jumping out of his skin at her voice. “I hope the watch wasn’t too long for you both.”

“No, ma’am,” came the hesitant reply. She clearly didn’t know either of these men, the ones who had traveled with her obviously still resting after an exhausting and extremely long ordeal. She slowly moved to sit up with a groan, the two men staggering to their feet and picking up the rifles they had rested near their seats. “Is there anything you need, ma’am?”

“Just to use the b-- the latrine,” she stammered, struggling to remember the word. “Sorry for disrupting you. I’ll use the same spot as last night, if that’s fine?”

She could just barely make out the movements of the two shadows looking at each other, whispering, before one of them called back unsure. “Yes, ma’am. Uhm-- don’t go far?”

A warm smile crossed her lips and she tried not to laugh. “Just into the brush here, I’m just hoping to be mostly out of sight. Thank you.”

She unzipped her sleeping bag, leaving it laid out as she grabbed the broken piece of wood she had had the forethought to take from the beach before they left, similar to the first she had used as a shovel. She slipped her coat on, turning to look into the forest and waited for her eyes to adjust a bit more, trying to remember which path she had taken last night and finding the branches she had snapped as markers.

As she started to walk off, she heard the two men speak quietly to each other, and then the sound of one running back toward the camp’s quarters. Her eyes closed as she frowned; she didn’t want to be bothering anyone more than necessary, especially at this hour.

Dawn had broken somewhere beyond the trees by the time she had made it back from her business, the sound of trumpets coming from the other side of the field. The small man that had been left at her monitoring post was pouring water on the fire as she came crashing back through the forest as delicately as something the size of a three storey building probably could.

He seemed to stop and stare, in awe or fear she had no idea from the distance, and she simply crouched back beside her things and started to pack it all away carefully up against the trees, flashing him a smile she felt was obviously trying to hide her awkwardness and discomfort.

“Morning, Miss!” A long yell carried across the field, and she turned to see who could only be Edmund Miller and another of the troops from yesterday strutting across the wide open ground. “Baker, you’re off! Breakfast will be ready in 10 in the mess!”

The small man saluted and started back at a jog, getting reprimanded back into a proper march as he got close enough to the other men.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” she greeted him warmly. “I’m sorry you have to be up so early, I hope myself having to go to the woods just now didn’t rob you of any sleep.”

Edmund and his fellow soldier laughed deeply, and Melanie could just make out the face of Jones, one of the other men who had marched-- well, mostly marched-- with her from the coast. “No ma’am, probably the longest night’s rest we’ve been able to get outside of a sickbed in years! Getting back here as fast as we did was a huge favor I’ll be owing you.”

“Just pretend your legs hurt today so no one gets in trouble when the brass gets here,” she said in a whisper, smirking.

“No worries, ma’am,” Jones called. He wasn’t as overtly friendly as Edmund, but he was definitely an ally here. “Hopefully the Commander thinks to utilize the box like that in the future, should need have it.”

“I’d prefer something with longer straps, but I’ll make due if it happens.” About twenty minutes into the march up the logging road Melanie’s patience had worn thin with trying to balance keeping pace with the men while not causing them any extra strain by making them run, and she made a plea for them to let her transport them by having them ride on her luggage. The ball wheels were as rugged as advertised, not having too much trouble on the cart-rutted dirt road. They had required very little convincing to take her up on the offer, and after a slightly bumpy start she had cut their travel time allegedly by half. “Am I supposed to be anywhere?” She asked, looking up as another set of trumpets called from the building.

“Yes ma’am, need you to come down to the other side here and enjoy a breakfast while we do an extra round of introductions; the young ones need a bit of encouragement to settle.” With an arm extended, Edmund waved her toward the building as he and Jones turned to walk. She stood, adjusting her clothing and taking a moment to properly button and tie her coat; she figured the high-collared trench would look more official and militant, like maybe she might belong.

The training grounds were just over half the size of a soccer pitch to her; a cleared area of forest with hard-packed ground for all variety of training exercises from equestrian to rescue. Down the left side was a long track interrupted by small water features, and the right side had a similar track that incorporated a number of dirt mounds of different heights and angles of incline. The camp building was primarily wooden on a stone-and-mortar foundation, and had a number of outward-facing doors for the sleeping quarters, the mess hall, and the staging room. The building had two floors, and came to about her chest when she stood next to it.

The stables were attached to the right side from her perspective, with a fenced pen nearby for them to exercise in when not being used for drills or to run messages and troops back and forth to the barracks. On either side of the building were a curious series of temporary structures made out of scaffolding. Stacked walkways varied in width and height from a typical hallway size for the men, to a width and height enough for two to three horses to comfortably travel abreast. Melanie’s first thought-- that they were simply for an audience to watch the training in the field-- had been tossed aside, and she stared at them a bit more trying to imagine what their purpose was.

The trees had been cleared to the left, the road to the training grounds coming up off of the wide logging road and leading to the side of the building. As Edmund, Jones and herself crossed the half-way mark of the field she could see a rider heading out toward the logging road and assumed it was a messenger sent to inform the upper ranks that she was awake. The dawn’s golden light on the road highlighted the faint mist coming up into the cool morning air.

Jones indicated an area for her to sit in just beside the building, and she tried to avoid looking into any of the windows in case she was a terrifying morning surprise to some young soldiers. The double doors to the mess hall were open wide and two men-- Hicks and… Barrett? Bartlett? She’d need a bit more time to learn everyone’s names-- were bringing out literal buckets of what looked like hot, steamed potatoes and a heaping pile of cooked pork.

“We poured the pork fat over the potatoes for you for a bit of flavor, Miss,” Hicks called up. “We were low on bread, so-”

“No, no, please-- this is more than enough, thank you,” Melanie replied, embarrassed. “Feed everyone else first and I’ll eat what’s available.”

“Already taken care of, Miss, don’t you worry! We’ve got supplies en route from main barracks this morning and several of the outposts are sending up fish for us.”

She smiled warmly and accepted a bucket of potatoes directly from him with a whispered thanks. Edmund had entered the mess hall and returned with a barrel of water; something that was quickly becoming his specialty.

She covered her mouth as best as she could with one hand as she tipped the first bucket back into her mouth, the small balls of starch rolling onto her tongue; hot and greasy. She took in a long breath to cool them and started to chew.

“Everything alright, ma’am?” Jones called up to her, watching her face. She nodded, her brow furrowed as she continued to chew. She swallowed after what felt like too long for just potatoes, and took the barrel of water to clear out the rest.

“Delicious,” she said with a smile, though her face was still confused. “The best potatoes I’ve honestly had, they just…” She trailed off, leaning over the slowly growing crew of men who had decided to take their breakfast out into the fresh air to eat with her, placing her hand face up on the ground between them. “The potatoes back home that I usually cook with are about this large, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt them as heavily as these. Fantastic.” She straightened back up reaching for the large ‘plate’ of pork, in truth a large lid from a hogshead barrel, and followed the same pattern as before.

The men started applauding with laughs as she took the whole plate in a single mouthful, and she waved annoyedly to them while covering her mouth as she chewed, a soft moan of satisfaction leaving her as she enjoyed what felt like a large mouthful of chewy bacon. The food felt dense, heavy; not tough and thick but like it was much more substantial than the food at home.

“My extreme compliments to the chef, that was incredible,” Melanie offered happily after another draught of water.

“I’d have assumed you would’ve eaten at least five times as much,” Edmund said, immediately backpedaling. “No offense meant ma’am! I didn’t mean it like that-”

She just laughed, shaking another couple of potatoes out of the second barrel into her hand and blowing on them to cool them a little. “None taken, I would’ve assumed the same. The food at home must be significantly more shallow than I would’ve thought.” She popped the potatoes in her mouth, chewing them as quietly as she could manage.

“East Watch eats well, ma’am,” Jones said, ripping into a porkchop with his teeth, not bothering with a knife. “You’ll be in a good company, no worries there.”

“Should we be talking like she’s getting enlisted with us?” Hicks asked gruffly as he hoisted himself on top of a stack of wood nearby. “Nobility still has to shit their pants about her yet.”

“I already made it official,” Edmund declared, leaning into her other bucket of potatoes and stabbing one with a fork, putting it on his own plate as one of the other men scolded him for it. “She’s my second-in-command in the Idiot Brigade. Nobility can’t have her.”

A mix of jeers and laughing came from the other men and Melanie laughed, blushing lightly. Her worries about being accepted melted away easily with these five men.

“Really is going to be the Idiot Bridgade with you in charge, Miller.”

“Shut up, Bartlett, you’re just jealous,” Edmund shot back at him, flicking some uneaten grizzle in his direction.

“Make Peters leader, he’s the smartest one out of us lot,” Hicks said, pointing at the crew-cut blonde in the corner. Peters raised his hands in surrender, his empty plate in one.

“Absolutely not, I’m not responsible for any of you,” he said to laughter as he went to return his dish to the mess hall. As their laughter and conversation continued over breakfast more soldiers filed out to join them, awkward at first but put at ease by the Idiot Brigade’s demeanor. Soon she was addressing and being introduced to 12 of the 15 other men who had been stationed here for training, all of them the rank of Private save for the mess-hall cook, a Second Lieutenant the same as Edmund and Jones.

“First Lieutenant Hollis was called back to barracks for full debrief last night, so technically Second Lieutenant Fuller here is in charge of the place until he comes back,” Edmund explained as Fuller finished accepting Melanie’s thanks and praise for the meal graciously.

“Only in charge of the youngsters,” Fuller said, “the rest of you are too much trouble.”

 “Should we be doing drills, sir?” One of the privates asked, immediately getting smacked by another soldier next to him.

 “Under orders to just hold and suspend all training activities until Captain and Commander arrive,” Fuller said. There was a general murmur of relief, even a bit of excitement, as he said it.

 “Training activities are suspended,” he stated, louder. “Regular duties are not, so if you should be mucking stalls or cleaning my kitchen, get to it once breakfast is done.” A bubbling response of groaning, laughing and swearing followed his orders, and several of the boys and men broke off to either return their plates to the mess or to start heading to their chores.

 “Anything I can help with?” Melanie asked hopefully, looking between the cook and the members of the Brigade.

 “We’re actually under orders to keep you in one spot, ma’am,” Jones called bluntly. She groaned in reply.

 “You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re babysitting me, though,” she sighed.

 “It doesn’t feel that way, ma’am,” Edmund said, standing up and brushing the crumbs off of his pants. “And we could do with an easy day for-”

 “Commander on approach!” Came a chain of calls from the watch-post down by the road. 

“Well, so much for that thought,” Bartlett said as he clapped a hand on Edmund’s shoulder, downing the rest of his water as he headed back into the mess with his dishes.

“They’re early,” Hicks remarked.

“Should I stand up?” Her awkwardness was building again as the men’s demeanors changed back to that of soldiers-on-duty, everyone adjusting their uniforms and moving with purpose.

“Probably not the best idea, ma’am, gotta worry about the horses,” Edmund said, walking over to stand next to her. She nodded, turning her head to watch the road for signs of the Commander.

 “Lord,” Martellis whispered under his breath as they rode the incline to the training grounds, seeing Melanie sitting next to the camp house. Smaller than his memory had recalled her, she was still gigantic. He raised a hand in the air to signal her to hold, and she raised her hand back to acknowledge.

 Himself and the Captain had intercepted the messenger on his way back to the barracks. At news that the training grounds personnel and Melanie were already awake and moving, they had decided to ride ahead of the Corporal and the small team of soldiers coming with carts of supplies. 

 “All-hands briefing in the staging room, duties on hold,” Captain Grant stated to Fuller as they exited the stables a moment later. The Commander and Captain shared a look, Grant nodding sharply as he moved toward the main doors, Martellis heading for the nearest ramp to the soldier-sized scaffolding as the shouts of gathering began.

 He climbed to the top level, walking down the wooden platforms to be farther away from the building. “Over here, Melanie,” he called after steeling himself with a deep breath of the forest air. She nodded, standing carefully and checking around her for anything she may bump into or step on.

 Her dark-red coat glistened in the morning light, and it’s double-breasted construction and shoulder-straps made it look almost uniform-like in nature. He smiled, admiring the way the knee-length drape of it caught the wind as she moved. She took a knee, dropping her height so that his eyeline had to drop to meet hers.

 “The report we received at the barracks last night said you made it here before supper,” Martellis began, trying not to sound impressed or suspicious. “How did you find the march?”

 “The scenery was gorgeous, and thankfully we didn’t run into much issue with my trunk on the road,” she replied with a warm smile, her expression changing quickly to that of concern. “How is Henry?”

 He frowned. As a commanding officer, most of the people he interacted with understood that his role was to dictate conversation. That said, however, he acknowledged that Melanie was not a soldier, nor a fellow officer. “He’s doing as well as he can be. Private Kendrick has been left with him this morning, and his arm has been properly set and cast. His leg, Corporal Ethridge believes, is only sprained but for safety he has to rest it for at least another day.” She sighed with relief. “How are your injuries today?”

 She tipped her head back and forth in thought. “Stiff, sore, but the cuts on my head, neck and knee are much better today. Sore to the touch, but every part of me feels bruised. My back, if I’m being honest, is itching. I worry that those wounds will need to be tended to, but I can’t be sure it isn’t just from having been in salty wet clothes all day.”

 “The Corporal is en route to see you, they should be here shortly. Myself and Captain Grant rode ahead when we crossed paths with the morning report. Have you eaten?”

 “Yes,” she said, with a tone almost like joyful exasperation. “It was phenomenal, I don’t know the last time I’ve had a meal that satisfying. Incredible, really.” Martellis laughed reflexively, and she blushed with slight embarrassment. “Sorry,” she offered apologetically.

 “No, please-- we don’t get many complaints of the food in the service, but the men rarely compliment it. The closest compliments we get are a few minutes of quiet,” he offered.

 “Well, I gave many compliments to the chef. Fuller deserved to hear them first hand.” She sighed happily, pausing as a small group of birds flitted through the field. “I hope Henry’s happy he gets to eat food from home again. I’d love to hear how my food compares.”

The Commander took a quick look to ensure that there were no stragglers trying to make their way to the staging room. “We may not be able to let you see each other before the higher officials are able to interrogate you both,” he stated, heavily. “The Duke and Duchess were attending an Affair of Duty in the capitol, and as such are two to three days away still, and the King’s Guard will not send a representative without consent of the Duke, at the very least.”

 “I understand, Commander,” she replied, obviously disheartened by the news. “I…” She began, but trailed off, looking at him curiously.

 “Permission to speak freely,” he said, leaning on the scaffolding rail.

 “Do we have any… thoughts, we’ll say, on how the Nobility may react to me, or how they’ll wish I be treated?” She asked after muddling over her words for a moment. She turned her head toward the back of the training grounds, where her belongings rested against the large trees, and the Commander also looked, trying to see what she was looking at. Melanie's voice came at a strained whisper, as she tried not to move her lips. “Or how I have been treated?”

 “I’ll save my suspicions that the men may have been speaking to you on this already,” the Commander leveled gravely toward her. “You shouldn’t be given any instruction on how to act, as an innocent person who answers honestly should be found innocent.”

 They continued to stare toward the back of the field together in silence for a moment, before he continued. “However, we have been concerning ourselves with those thoughts already. In truth, we do not know how the Duke or Guard will react to you, or what they will assume. All we can do is prepare, and hope that our efforts will mitigate the risks.”

 She nodded with a deep sigh. “I’ll do my best to help mitigate risks for you and your men, just please take care of Henry should anything happen.”

 “He will be taken care of,” he said, his small, dark eyes meeting her gigantic, hazel orbs. “I promise you that. To make sure nothing happens, however, we’re currently briefing the men on the tenuous situation at hand. We’re doing what we can to assure word of you doesn’t get out before the high officials and nobility are able to weigh in, and also preparing them for the possibility that we may need to…” The Commander’s voice dropped lower. “Direct the narrative, I believe is a good turn of phrase for it.”

 “They take direction well, so I’d have little fear if it came to that,” Melanie whispered back, flashing a smile up to him. The sound of horses and carts coming up the hill road to the grounds caught both of their attentions, and she turned to watch. “Do I still have permission to speak freely?” She asked, almost abruptly.

 “Yes, but quietly,” Martellis replied, his brow knit in anticipation of what she was about to say.

 “I… I don’t have any military experience, obviously,” she began, turning away from the men coming up the road after seeing who she believed to be the Corporal share a hand signal with the Commander. “I understand that I present a large number of logistics problems-- sorry, the pun was unintended-- but…”

 She sighed, adjusting her position with a quiet grunt. One of her feet had fallen asleep.

 “But… I would do my best to be as useful as possible, if somehow, for any reason, I was able to join, or… maybe at least be utilized by, the Coastal Watch.” Her eyes were awkwardly drifting across the tops of the trees, avoiding looking at the Commander. She added abruptly to the end a quiet “sir,” as he stared on quietly.

 “I sincerely hope that those options are considered by the Nobility,” Martellis replied softly.

Chapter Text

 “Good morning, Lionus,” Melanie greeted him happily as Lionus and the other medic from the beach came around the building, the Commander walking down the scaffolding ramp back to the ground and the three men saluting each other as they passed.

 “Morning, Miss!” He called back with a wide grin. 

 “How are Henry’s injuries?” She asked softly, bending a bit lower to speak with him.

 “He’s recovering very well, was lucid and coherent when he came-to last night. He’s eaten and drank appropriately, and Kendrick is making sure he’s well looked after today,” The Corporal reported with a gentle smile before gesturing to her body. “How are you feeling this morning?”

 She adjusted herself a bit to face the two men better, trying to focus on Lionus and ignore the uncomfortable, displeased look that was so blatant on the other man’s face that she could see it clearly from where she knelt. “Stiff, sore, a lot of bruises that are tender, but everything feels fine aside from a bit of itchiness.”

 “Where’s the itchiness?” He asked, a bit of concern in his voice. She grimaced, suddenly feeling like she was in trouble.

 “My back?” She said, unsure.

 “Well, myself and Lance Corporal Devon are here to get you all sorted out with those cuts and scrapes we didn’t get to yesterday.” The encouraging, soothing tone of Lionus’ voice made Melanie smile before blushing deeply, realizing what that probably meant. The Corporal continued speaking before she could question or argue. “We’ll be going to a nearby pond, about a half hour’s walk, and you’ll clean up there. Bring a clean shirt with you.”

 “Should I bring some of my soap?” She asked, notably uncomfortable about the entire situation.

 “Yes miss, that’ll be helpful for keeping you from infection. Gather your things, and then we’ll head off.”

 “Is it ok for me to walk on the road at this hour?” She asked, desperately trying to find an excuse.

 “Yes miss! Patrols and roadblocks have been up since yesterday,” Lionus called, laughing. Devon seemed to be getting impatient, and it pressured her to just get on with it. “We’ll meet you at the top of the road there when you’re ready!”

 She sighed, nodding. “Yes, thank you, sir.”

 “Lionus!”

 She laughed in spite of herself, smiling as she stood up. “Thank you, Lionus, and Devon.” She turned before she could see Devon’s reaction; the last thing she needed was the queasy feeling of being around Captain Grant, with another soldier who obviously wanted nothing to do with her. She jogged across the empty field, wondering what kind of soap she wanted to use.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 The ‘small’ pond was as advertised; approximately the size of a backyard swimming pool, it was crystal clear with a light, limestone bottom if she were to guess by the rocky outcroppings at the back. Melanie scanned the area from a crouching position as Lionus detailed what she needed to do:

 Step One: Bath
 Step Two: Dry
 Step Three: Lie down in a clear area so she can be treated
 Step Four: Get dressed in a clean change of clothes

 “I understand that you are both medical professionals,” she began awkwardly, having been unable to locate a covered, private area to change as she had been hoping to. “If we were the same size, I promise you I would not be this hesitant or uncomfortable, but I just… I would like to request that neither of you watch me undress and enter the water.” Lionus had his arms crossed in front of him with a tiny, amused smirk on his face, and she continued speaking as he tried to open his mouth to interject. “I know you need to see me to treat me, but!” She held up a finger to emphasize importance, her voice softening to a plea. “Let me wash a bit first, maybe?”

 Lionus sighed, dropping his head as he shook it slowly. His face looked back up to her with an empathetic smile, his voice warm. “As you wish, miss Melanie. Devon and myself will do a quick trot back down to the road as a little patrol, that should give you enough time.”

 “Thank you,” she whispered, smiling at him appreciatively. She hugged her bundled towels, clothes and soap to her chest and headed toward the back of the pond as Lionus and Devon struck off, the two men speaking to each other beyond her ability to hear them.

 She laid out her coat and her items on the flattest rock nearby, bringing her towel, washcloth and soap to within arm’s reach of the water’s edge. Hunching over as if that would help hide her gargantuan frame, she slipped out of her clothes almost frantically and quickly stepped into the water.

 “Oh!” She cried, followed by a string of breathy swears as she dipped herself full-bodied into the very cold water. She shivered almost aggressively as she came back up for air, pushing her hair back, and squatting. The giant woman tried to keep everything lower than her collarbone below the surface, and used her arms and hands to rub against the rest of her body, trying to warm herself and the water around her. After a minute or two that felt like ages, she had either succeeded in warming the water, or she had become numb; either answer was adequate enough for the purpose of this entire exercise.

 The soft smell of lavender as she opened the bottle of ‘camp-friendly’ body wash brought a wave of relief, almost nostalgia, to herself, and as she shifted around to different depths of the pond while keeping her back to the road, she scrubbed it onto every inch of herself she could reach with the washcloth and then lathered and rinsed her hair. If she closed her eyes, the morning sun bouncing through the trees and across the surface of the water was that of home. It was the hike she had taken with school friends up the coast to ‘The Spout’, washing together in the small run-off pond that was far too cold for any of them to be in.

 “On approach!” came the very loud yell from Devon, their voices carrying more across the water than she had expected. Her eyes snapped open and she squatted low in the water again, one arm moving to cover her breasts as a wave of heat pushed up into her cheeks.

 She awkwardly waddled and crawled toward their end of the pond, staying as low as possible until she had no other choice. Lionus and Devon took a moment to appreciate quickly-collapsing suds in pockets on the water’s surface and collecting in the rocky corners near the outflowing streams.

 “I should’ve warned you about the temperature, Miss,” Lionus called apologetically. His voice was always on the louder side, which she appreciated when there was a lot of noise around but the forest was significantly quieter than the coast; she could hear him fine, but felt too awkward to correct him. “Water runs down from the mountains up behind, tends to be a lot colder here; fabulous in the summer where you can’t get away from the heat of the day, but a near-dawn bath probably wasn’t the most comfortable for you.”

 Melanie smirked from her position, laid on her stomach across the smooth rocks of the pond bottom, her shoulders fully out of the water. “I took extra care to soap-out my mouth, if the Commander asks.”

 Lionus chuckled, Devon openly rolling his eyes as he stood by with the large pack of medical supplies. Melanie flinched at his expression, and let Lionus wave her into turning around. “Need to see your back now, Miss. Were you able to reach it?”

 “I did my best,” she admitted quietly, turning back on with an arm still across her chest and the washcloth in hand, and sitting up on the rocks so that her waist came above the surface. “I was able to stretch the washcloth across it and scrub that way a couple of times, but my left side is battered, so it was hard to get the angles.”

 The two men discussed behind her, and she tried not to pay too close attention to what they were saying, though she could make out almost all of it. “We’re definitely going to need to treat the deeper ones up on your shoulders, sorry to say Miss. The smaller cuts and scrapes lower-on seem to be doing alright today, but the shoulder blade cuts are a risk for infection.”

 She sighed, nodding as she turned back around to face them, ready to ask where they wanted her to lay when Lionus continued to direct her. “Alright now, miss, the bottom half.”

 She groaned, and Devon rolled his eyes again. Melanie’s eyes landed on him as she frowned. “It’s awkward,” she started firmly, “I’m sorry you obviously find it irritating, but being my size this feels like an extreme imposition on you, and it grates against my manners.”

 Devon took an involuntary step back when she started speaking, and flinched as Lionus-- who had been unaware of Devon’s unsubtle attitude-- shot him a sharp look.

 “A normal check up, or inspection, I would happily tolerate. This feels like I’m under a magnifying glass.” Her eyes locked with his and he stared, flushing embarrassedly.

 “Your forgiveness, miss,” he managed to stammer out, sounding stung and slightly aggravated. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

 “You’re forgiven,” she offered, more softly but also not hiding her continued discomfort.

 “I hadn’t thought of it that way myself, either, miss Melanie,” Lionus apologized, his bedside manners kicking back in. “I appreciate you letting us do our work despite how uncomfortable it is for you. We’ll make it as quick and easy as we can, promise.”

 “It’s alright,” she said, caving to her instinct to apologize again. “I’m sorry, Devon, I didn’t mean to be short about it-- I just do have working eyes.”

 Lionus chuckled as Devon fidgeted his shoulders, turning his head to the side. “Apology accepted,” he said, flatly.

 She flashed a quick and awkward smile before letting out a long sigh. “Alright, bottom half.”

 The tops of the trees weren’t nearly as interesting as she was hoping they’d be as her eyes jumped to them rather than look at either of the men while she blindly groped at the rocks under her with the non-chest-covering arm. Taking a second, she moved the washcloth to her free hand and held it in place over the front of her. The rocks beneath her were thankfully porous and gave her a slip-free surface to stand on, taking a quick step to a depth of water at the midpoint of her shins.

 She shivered in the air despite it being significantly warmer than the water she had been in, and was happy to be so high up that the men were out of her earshot. She fidgeted, trying to keep her thighs pressed together while slowly moving to turn around in a circle.

 “Alright, miss!” Lionus called from below, and she quickly, happily, stepped back into the center of the pond, slipping into the cold water and dunked herself again. She slid her way back onto the rocks in front of the medics once more as Lionus gave her the report while she shivered. “Looks like your clothes did a good job of keeping you all but bruise-free on the lower parts, aside from the knee,” he said. “We’ll only need to treat your back for now.”

 “So I can put my pants back on,” she said in a tone that was more like a statement than a question.

 “Yes, you can put your pants back on,” Lionus said, chuckling. “You go do that while we set up just here to the side where it's a bit more clear.”

 “Thank you, both, for treating me so well,” she said warmly, slipping backwards to make her way toward the far end of the pond again. 

 “You’re welcome, miss,” Lionus called.

 “It’s an honour to help you, miss,” Devon said flatly, but with a smooth flair of having well-practiced the line.

 “Tell that to your face,” she remarked back in a similar tone, Lionus laughing loudly and Devon making an offended sound.

 She grabbed her towel, wrapping it around as she collected herself by her pile of clothes, drying off her bottom half after wringing out her short hair. Slipping back into her boxer briefs and pants quickly, she twisted the towel around her chest and grabbed the rest of her items.

 “Should I be on my stomach or my side?” Melanie asked, placing her things down to the side of their workspace. 

 “Side would be best, Miss, neither of us thought to bring a ladder!” Lionus shouted. “Whichever side you like first, then we’ll get you to roll over to the other.”

 The towel was pinned against her chest tightly by her arm as she slowly moved into a kneel, positioning herself so the towel fell beneath her carefully. She took a second to adjust, before deciding to roll onto her right side, her front facing the pond. “Ready when you are,” she said, one arm holding the front side of the towel up against herself and the other arm folded beneath her head like a pillow.

 “Perfect, Miss! We’ll be mixing up the same strength I used on your knee yesterday, so it will sting again. Just try and hold it together for us, and everything will be ok,” he shouted clearly from behind her. She said a general affirmation and he and Devon began to quickly go over the materials they needed, quieter but still audible to herself though she didn’t understand the ingredients they were talking about.

 “You’ve got to wear gloves when you do this, Corporal,” Devon sighed in admonishment part-way through their preparations. “Your hands are still blistered from yesterday, look--”

 “Those aren’t blisters,” Lionus said defensively with a laugh. “Calluses from when I used to handle the cannonballs on the Garrettson and work the ratlines. Broke my fingers more than once.”

 “There’s definitely blisters-- look at this, they’re red and cracking. Put the gloves on, sir.”

 “I will put the gloves on today, fine; I wasn’t really thinking about the volume I’d be putting on her yesterday, I’m basically immune to smaller applications now so I tend to forego them for speed.”

 “Just keep the gloves on your belt!” Devon said quietly, exasperated over the sounds of them mixing together the ingredients again. “Speed doesn’t matter that much, does it?”

 Lionus laughed again, “I thought you’d be impressed by how fast your Corporal was at his job.”

 “I’m more impressed that she managed to get rid of the smell she had,” Devon muttered, bluntly.

 “UHM,” Melanie said loudly in offense, blinking. Lionus snorted behind her, and she could hear him coughing as he almost choked on a surprise laugh. “My ears are fine, thank you for asking,” was all she could think to say.

 “I’m s-sorry, Miss!” Lionus called from behind her, still laughing.

 “No, not you-- don’t apologize for him!” She scolded, incensed. “He can apologize to my face! Get over here!”

 Lionus was still trying to stammer over an apology through repressed chuckling. “Devon, wait-- come back-- Miss, no, I’m sorry for that, I am, it’s just-- there was a bit of a smell, which is normal--!”

 “I was shipwrecked!” Melanie cut Lionus off firmly and dramatically as Devon came into view from around the top of her head, moving to stand at ease clearly in her view, Lionus simply giving in to more laughter as he continued his work behind her. “I washed up on the beach like a corpse,” she stressed, locking eyes with Devon’s strange expression. His features were sharp, giving him an aggressive look even with a neutral emotion, and he had harsh, dark eyes. “I think I can be given some slack on the smell, Devon.”

 Lionus was trying to collect himself behind her as Devon stared her down, and she furrowed her brow, unable to discern what emotion he was feeling. “I’ve had to haul corpses from beaches,” he said, clear and low and heavy. The entire area went so silent, there was a brief worry she had gone deaf. Melanie’s eyebrows shot up and her expression softened immediately, her mouth opening to apologize before he cut her off. “They all smelled significantly better than you did.”

 The Corporal’s hand slammed against Melanie’s shoulder, causing her to twitch in surprise as the man audibly buckled over, a roar of laughter leaving him as Melanie’s jaw dropped open. “Wow,” was all she could manage, trying to hold back her own laughter as she attempted to fix the offended, angry look back onto her face, but it was too hard; she could just make out the twitch of Devon’s mouth into a proud smirk. “No, that’s not-- I’m not laughing! I’m mad! Is Lionus’ second job to save the lives of the people you murder with that mouth?!”

 Devon couldn’t restrain his face much longer, and his eyes dropped to the ground as he tried to hide the grin on his face. “I’m very sorry my comment made you so angry.”

 “You are not,” she scolded after snorting out a laugh, “and if it had actually made me angry I would’ve just farted and let you choke on it.”

 Lionus was gone; gasping for air between howls of laughter she had felt his hand slide and vanish from her as he presumably hit the ground, and Devon started shaking from holding back his own laughs. “Oh, you hadn’t been already?” Devon managed to sputter out.

 “Wha- fuck off, Devon!” She said, stammering as she laughed louder. “I’ll have you arrested or something, go away! Get back to work!”

 The three of them laughed for some time, Melanie’s face red even after Devon had strutted his way back behind her and she kept occasionally trying to make snippy comments at him, sending them all back to laughing again as she hissed and groaned through the stinging, burning discomfort of the poultice. After rotating to her other side, she lay flat on her stomach and stuck her elbows out, just to let Lionus make sure there was nothing they missed along her sides, and then she collected herself into a sitting position, the towel still held to her chest.

 “How does everything feel, Miss?” Lionus called up to her.

 “Feeling very good now, the bath absolutely helped-- shut up, Devon-- and the itchiness has stopped, thank God.”

 Lionus smiled up at her, nodding. “I’ll be very pleased to update Mr. Lemuels on your condition tonight.” Melanie warmly smiled back, and opened her mouth to speak when Devon’s voice carried over his shoulder from his place by the medical supplies.

 “I’ll let him know your smell’s improved.”

 “You know what?” She asked, a hard, almost threatening tone in her voice as she turned to glare at him, Lionus already starting to laugh again. Melanie was really growing attached to the Corporal’s bright and cheerful nature; it had made a potentially horrible situation significantly easier.  “You can walk back. I was going to offer both of you a lift, but you don’t deserve one now.”

 “I’m fairly certain that’s the kind of behavior that the Commander would like a bit of a… lessening of, at least until High Brass has a say,” Lionus called after clearing his throat, sounding faintly disappointed.

 “That’s fair,” she replied, gathering her feet under her and wrapping the towel so it stayed firmly on her torso. Her eyes darted to the side as she drawled on, mischievously. “But, I mean-- you’re the Corporal, we can just say it took him twice as long to get back because he hasn’t been training hard enough. They wouldn’t believe him over you, would they?”

 “The Corporal is more than capable of walking back, same as me,” Devon said.

 “Well,” Lionus hummed, thoughtfully, and Devon turned to look at him in a near panic.

 “I could put you down just right out of sight-range of the post,” Melanie offered, her voice tempting.

 “No, the Commander said-” Devon started, beginning to sound legitimately concerned.

 “Commander wouldn’t know,” Lionus said to him with a smirk.

 “I’d tell the Commander,” Devon threatened, Lionus chuckling.

 “Again, he’s the Corporal…” the large woman teased from above, Devon turning to scowl at her. “I’m just saying!” She began to chuckle at the increasingly worried look on Devon’s face as Lionus laughed.

 “Calm down, everyone’s walking,” he said to Devon after a bit, “which means you have to finish getting dressed, Miss Melanie.”

 She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as she tipped her head back; the warm morning rays of sun dancing across her body through the branches of the tall pines. “Fine,” she sighed, before looking back down at them. “This has been legitimately very lovely, though; it made me feel a bit more normal in all of this.”

 Her hand pointed out quickly at Devon, who still jumped at the huge motion even from the distance he was at. “Except for you; you were horrible and cruel and I’ll never recover,” she said in a theatrical, over-dramatic tone, eliciting some- admittedly reluctant- chuckles from him.

 The two men stood together at the bottom of the road, waiting for her as she trekked back to them, her fresh bra and shirt on and her coat draped around her shoulders like a bulky cape. The damp towel was tied in a bundle around the rest of her things, and hung from her hand like a terry-cloth purse.

 “Last call to break the rules,” she said softly on her approach, smirking as the Corporal and Lance Corporal simply saluted and then turned to begin the march back to the Training Grounds.

Chapter Text

 Martellis entered the staging room, where all of the enlisted men currently at the Training Grounds were gathered. Thirty three heads, all told, including himself and the Captain. He gave a salute as everyone in the room snapped to attention, and joined Grant at the head after the Captain gave the order for ‘at ease’.

 A heavy, stoic pause kept the entire room in rapt silence before the Commander spoke. “You are all, every one of you, now unwittingly involved in an exceedingly dangerous secret.”

 Martellis’ dark brown eyes scanned the stone-like faces of the men before him, every eye was on him.

 “We are in an unprecedented situation, which I do not believe I need to detail. You have all seen her, many of you have interacted with her. You are all in danger now of falling under the highest scrutiny of the Noble Guard, and the Duke. I will be honest with you, a time may come when the King will have a direct reaction to what has been done by people here, in this instant, in this situation.”

 “It is the curse of duty that, as those who were able to heed the call of action, as those who were brave enough to attend to unknown matters first; we now bear the responsibility of circumstances beyond any one man, any hundred men, any thousands of men, that we had no say in.”

 The soldiers before him- his men, the men of his Watch- listened on in respectful silence, no one even bothering to adjust their footing or shift their weight while he had them so captivated.

 “As your Commander, I am here to assure you that should heads roll as a result of what has occurred and what we have recovered, my head will be the first. If it should come to that, God willing, I will do all I can to make sure it is the only head that should fall.”

 “But it is not my call.”

 “The King’s Watch stands beneath the Noble Guard, which stands beneath the King’s Guard, which stands beneath the Royal Infantry, the Royal Navy, and all which stands beneath the King. We bear a tremendous weight, not because they have the power to stand above us, but because we have the power to be the base for all of them. We were the first to respond for a reason; we were the first to take the call for a reason.”

 His eyes landed on pair after pair after pair of eyes; confused eyes, worried eyes, each pair a reflection of who he used to be, and who he can not afford to be now. Pairs of eyes that needed him to help them see what they are, what they mean, and what they need to do.

 “I will be as clear about this as possible. We will have days without direction now, until Nobility arrives to give it to us. Do not ever, ever, expect a lack of direction to be a worthy excuse for somehow not following it. This situation is an amalgamation of directives we should be following, and until we have their specific orders as to which directives they believe are the correct ones, we have to make due with our decisions.”

 “What we have being held here is a prisoner. What we have being held here is a military asset. What we have being held here is a hostage. What we have being held here is a stranded woman in need of help. What we have being held here is a potential foreign weapon, a hostile, an uncontrollable danger.”

 Several of the young privates at the front dropped their eyes briefly, fear across their features. Miller, Hicks, Jones, Bartlett and Peters near the far side of the room had set jaws and determined, nearly defiant eyes as he spoke. “I understand you already have ideas of which of these descriptions apply to what is happening here. I understand you and I may agree. But I am informing you, now…” His hand hit the top of the table in front of himself and the Captain firmly, all eyes back on him, “...should the Nobility decide differently, it will not matter what we believe; or even what we know.”

 He straightened back up, his arms folding behind his back as he took a deep breath. “The Eastern Watch has been the smallest of the Watches since the beginning. Tell me,” he stated, sharply, “does that mean that we are weak?”

 “No, sir!” The room called back.

 “Does that mean that we are foolish?”

 “No, sir!” The voices were louder this time.

 “Does this mean we will roll over and simply wait to do what is right? That we will lie down and refuse action and duty simply because there are those who would disagree?”

 “No, sir!”

 “Where they have the benefit of hindsight, we will have our pride in the knowledge that we acted when they did not, when they could not, and we will not hesitate to act with honor in service to what we believe is right in the situations we are forced to face. We will protect each other. We are!”

 “The East Watch!”

 “We serve!”

 “King and Country!”

 “We will go!”

 “Where we must!”

 “We will do it!”

 “Together!”

 The walls of the room felt as though they would collapse outward as the thirty-odd heads roared like a hundred. The Commander and Captain saluted, every man in the room following suit in one fluid motion. Martellis breathed it in and held it; it was never a mistake, he thought to himself. This is where you’re meant to be.

 He cleared his throat, the men returning to their rapt silence. “The Duke and Noble Guard will arrive within two days' time. We are not sure when, or how much of a rush they are putting on their travel to get here. They have been informed only that there is an urgent matter involving foreign bodies and a foreign vessel having wrecked on our shore; they will not know more until they are able to speak to one of our officers or lieutenants directly as we did not want the information of this situation being intercepted.”

 “As I will protect you all to the best of my ability from any fallout that could occur over how this situation has been handled, I hope you will understand the weight of trust I place in all of your hands when I ask you, each of you, to protect each other. We are strung together by bonds not many will ever have the luxury to know; as we are in service to our King and to our country, so too are we in service to our fellows. Never forget this.”

 “Myself and Captain Grant are doing all in our power to make sure that everyone is aware, as fast as possible, when the Noble Guard will be arriving. We need you, as always as members of the King’s Watch, to be ready for the situation to change at a moment’s notice. We will give you as much time as we can to prepare, but our hands are tied beyond that. We trust, immensely, in all of you. In your abilities, in your convictions.”

 His eyes looked over the room again, fear and worry lessened but not gone; never completely gone. Instead, a brighter light shone from behind them. A light of pride.

 “We are!” He shouted.

 “The East Watch!” The company roared back.

 “Captain Grant, you have the floor.”

Chapter Text

 Melanie’s fingers idly picked at the end of a pine branch as she passed, the tiny needles like green toothbrush bristles. She paused to examine the small pinecones starting to grow before taking another small, slow couple of steps. As relaxing as a calm walk in the woods would normally be, she was starting to wonder exactly how long it would be before having to keep such a slow pace drove her completely insane.

 “They’ve doubled the men at the barricade,” she commented idly, the roadblock set up just around the corner from the training grounds coming into view as they turned a corner. The call of approach went out from the men at the road outpost up to those in wait up ahead, and she ducked under some lower branches that reached across the logging road as Lionus shouted back to her.

 “Making sure you aren’t bothered by unwanted people, Miss!”

 “Making sure I don’t bother the citizenry, Lionus, though I appreciate the attempt to soften the blow,” the large woman corrected him. She heaved a loud sigh, trying to stick to the side of the road most protected from the view of anything that could approach from beyond the barricade as they made their way to the turn-off for the Training Grounds. “Maybe I can help cut a fresh path to the pond so we don’t have to run this risk next time.”

 Lionus hummed thoughtfully, mostly to himself, as he kept a quick marching pace with Devon. The Lance Corporal had been fairly tight-lipped the entire trip back from the pool, though he seemed less tense on the return trek than he had on the initial one, and he noticed that Melanie’s higher spirits had vanished as they walked. 

 They turned onto the inclined road to the grounds and were met with a sight of the entire area bustling with movement; it looked like every man was on the grounds and active with some task or another. Melanie instantly felt relieved; aside from who looked like Miller running toward them at jog, no one stopped to stare.

 “Commander wants you back by your sleeping area, ma’am!” He shouted loudly, hands cupped around his mouth. She gave a notably sloppy salute and reached to grab the front of her coat and hold it as he turned his attention to Lionus and Devon, speaking low enough she couldn’t make out the words. They all took a quick few steps to the side in surprise as she moved to walk around them, her eyes finding the clearest path and allowing herself to take her normal strides across the grounds.

 All of the horses were in the stables, and she could hear them neighing and whinnying; probably irritated that they were being kept indoors as a gorgeous day was beginning to shape up. She waved to the men as she took a wide turn around the outside of the building and the scaffolding, traveling quickly between the structures and the trees to avoid crossing paths where anyone would be working. Once she was clear into the wide, open area of the field she stretched her gait as far as she could, comfortably, with the damage she still had on her knee. If she wasn’t still stiff in her joints, it would be a gorgeous plain to run across; seven days at sea had made even her, who almost hated the activity, miss running.

 The Commander was standing by the small fire pit and chairs the men had kept watch from last night, with the Captain and three other men. She ran a hand through her hair to make sure it was all swept to one side on her approach and shortened her stride until she was close enough to drop carefully to her knees, folding her coat and placing it on the ground beside her.

 “Melanie. How are your injuries?” Martellis asked, shouting, and she subtly tried to signal for him to lower his volume with a tiny hand movement that was still massive to them.

 “Treated and healing, sir,” she responded with a nod, glancing quickly to the extremely stern face of the Captain, recognizing only Jones behind him. Captain Grant’s icy blue stare was fixed directly on her own eyes, and she turned her attention back to Martellis, trying not to look uncomfortable.

 “Good,” he replied firmly, less loudly now. “The men will be transporting materials here to construct scaffolding. This will be your area, and you’re to remain contained to it outside of any active orders. First Lieutenant Wells, Second Lieutenants Chase, and Jones,” he said, gesturing to each in turn, each of them saluting, “will be leading your watches. One of them is to be with you at all times outside of necessary privacy, which you do have liberty for as needed.”

 She smiled, nodding to each of the men as they saluted, turning back to the Commander with another nod. “Yes, sir. I understand. What duties would you like me to perform, in the meantime? I can help the men transport the materials here, easily.”

 Melanie kept her eyes locked on the Commander’s as she tried to, but evidently failed, in not making a face as Captain Grant released a hiss breath out of his nose, like an annoyed animal. The Commander, kindly, also seemed to ignore the subtle outburst as he took a deep and steadying breath before replying. “You aren’t to be given any active orders at this time as it pertains to the general work of the men here. You may be ordered at times to relocate, or to help in the event of something sudden and unexpected that may be beyond the men’s capabilities, but for now you’re to remain here.”

 Her eyes dropped to the ground and she smiled through her disappointment; she understood, deep down, that she was a problem and not a solution to them. At least not yet. She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again with a nod. “Yes, sir. Is it possible to make a request for some materials, and would I be granted clearance to sling my tarp between a few of these trees to make a shelter for myself in the event of rain and to help keep me out of the sun?”

 Grant turned to give the Commander a look, and Melanie saw Martellis wave him off subtly with a small hand gesture. “What materials are you looking for, and for what purpose?”

 “Just rope, honestly. I feel I’m ok otherwise, with the materials I have. I’d need enough- possibly four separate lengths of it- to tie through the corner ringlets on the tarp, and then tie around the trees.”

 Melanie let her eyes wander as the Captain and Commander shared quiet words with each other, the Captain’s voice sharp, but not loud enough to make out any of what he was saying. 

 “You need to detail exactly where the tarp would be going,” Grant’s voice shouted, snapping her attention back.

 “Of course, sir,” she said politely. “Is it alright if I show you?”

 “Yes, please,” Martellis said quickly, and she braced herself on her hands as she moved her legs out behind her to stand up, stretching for a second before walking over to the two trees she had slept between last night. All five men came up alongside her, watching her measure with her wingspan between the trees and trying to gauge the distance between the trunks, and do some testing on the thicker branches before stepping further into the woods while counting her steps.

 “These two trees in the front here, back to these two should be fine,” she explained, gesturing to them as she walked back out to the men. “There’ll be a bit more slack towards the back because they’re just slightly closer together than the tarp is wide, but that will give a good runoff for any collected rain water and condensation. I’ll need to do a bit of landscaping with some of these smaller trees and bushes, and I’d like to move a couple of the rocks.”

 The Captain and the Commander were talking together while Chase, Jones and Wells looked on, Jones nodding along with her description.

 “We’d prefer that you keep yourself and your items contained to the specific area of the training grounds,” Martellis called up after a moment, and Melanie squatted low with a frown as she judged the area.

“I could possibly peg the ends of the tarp down in a lean-to style inward toward the building, and it would cover me essentially completely from the rest of the--”

“No,” Grant said swiftly to the Commander, just loud enough for Melanie to hear clearly as he began to talk quietly to Martellis again.

“If we can drive two poles that might be tall enough, we can have it lifted on the inward end and--” Melanie tried to continue as an option, pointing near where the tiny fire pit was.

“Myself and the Commander are discussing the logistics,” Grant interrupted her again, harshly and accompanied by a cold stare. Melanie locked eyes over the top of his head with Martellis as the Captain turned his back to her again, her eyes wide with offense. Martellis simply stared back with a neutral expression while Grant continued to speak.

“I’d like to be part of that discussion given it’s about me,” she said impatiently.

“This is a difficult situation currently, Melan--” Martellis began, his face changing from his flat, neutral look to one of complete surprise as Grant wheeled around to speak to her, taking several steps toward her as he did so.

“No, this discussion isn’t about you, it’s about infrastructure, which you do not have a say in,” he snapped. Wells went pale behind him, and Chase was darting his eyes between the Captain and the Commander wildly as he tried to maintain an appearance of discipline by standing still.

“I am infrastructure at this size, Captain,” the gargantuan woman stated, her shoulders becoming tense. Martellis adjusted his hat, subtly rubbing his entire face roughly with one hand as he did so. Jones’ stance almost seemed to relax and he watched the exchange like someone at a table at an outdoor cafe observing a dispute across the street. “What are your specific concerns with my request?”

“You have to be monitored, so view of you can not be obstructed.”

 “Then we raise the inner side with poles that--”

 “We’re already using the men to construct scaffolding, we don’t--”

 “Then we just add the poles into the existing plans for construction! There were several long beams by the facility and--”

 “Those are not for you to dictate the use of, they are Watch property and--”

 “I am Watch property at the moment and--”

 “We can’t add additional men here to help with any further construction efforts due to--”

 “I can do it myself! I’m more than willing to--”

 “You are not at liberty to interfere with the men’s work and will be removed from any opportunity to do so--”

 “Where are you going to remove me to, my room?! Because you won’t let me have one, I--”

 “Enough!” Martellis yelled, both of them clamping their jaws shut instantly, but neither looking away from the other. “Wells and Jones, go and retrieve rope from storage and bring it back here. Four lengths, or 30 yards all-told, should be enough for our purposes.”

 “Chase, report to Dawson and tell him to add two of the long beams and support mortar to the materials being transported to this end of the grounds. All three of you, go now. Double-time.”

 The three gave fast and clear yes-sirs before turning and march-running back toward the rest of the activity. Melanie was the first to break eye contact to watch them leave, the color rapidly dropping from her cheeks as she felt her heart sink. She looked back toward Martellis, whose eyes were on the leaving men, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Grant had also turned to look at him.

 An excruciatingly long moment passed in silence between the three of them before the Commander spoke, tense and loud. “I will not tolerate any further behaviour of this nature from either of you. Captain Grant is a commanding officer of this Watch, and is second only to myself in priority for decisions and orders to be given. His voice is to be respected and his directives are to be followed.”

 Her eyes were on his shoes, unable to meet his gaze even if he had turned to address her directly. All she could do was nod in acknowledgement, feeling ashamed of how heated and argumentative she had been; it was the opposite of her entire goal.

 “Melanie,” he began and she twitched slightly, waiting for a verbal blow of some kind to fall; some kind of punishment, some kind of reprimand, something. Instead he continued to speak to Captain Grant, “has to be taken care of with similar, humane respect. She is in the care of the Watch, and henceforth will be either directly included in discussions regarding her care or indirectly through a liaison which she will choose. The both of you will either discuss like respectable adults or you will not speak at all. I will not have any further displays of unprofessionalism, disrespect, or lack of discipline by either of you, in front of my men or otherwise.”

 “Commander,” Grant began, his voice significantly lower and less emotional now. Martellis turned to cut him off with simply a look.

 “Your position on how you would like this situation to be handled has been made abundantly clear, Captain, and if your conduct just now was a reflection of that position in action I will ask you to seriously consider the efficacy of it now in hindsight.”

 Martellis addressed Melanie again. “The men will be bringing the materials you need. You can mark out where you would like the beams to go and the men will see to it once the rest of their construction duties are well-enough underway that they can spare the men. That is their job, and you are simply being held here--”

 “I just,” she said softly, almost involuntarily as she stammered, cutting him off. “I just want to be more of a solution than a problem. I know I shouldn’t help, but I want to. I just want to be worth as much as I cost.”

 Martellis shifted his weight, his boots moving slightly on the ground as she continued to stare at his feet.

 “Please,” she added. “Even just to be a brace, or to just carry--”

 “I wasn’t finished speaking,” Martellis said, his voice raised slightly in a clear call. A silent pause passed them all by before he resumed at his normal volume again. “If it will ease your concerns, I’ll give the men freedom to direct you as they may need, but that it will still be up to them if they choose to utilize you at all. If they wish for you to not interfere, you will respect that. Until such a time as we are given other directions, I will simply remind you that you are being held here, and we lack the true liberty with which to treat you otherwise; regardless of our intentions or desires, and regardless of your cooperation or lack-thereof.”

 “The Staff Sergeant will be traveling here this afternoon to get a first-hand look of this location and our situation here for the reports he will need to write. He is under my orders, directly, not to speak to you and you are not to interact with him. He is simply coming to observe.” Martellis finally heaved a long sigh, relaxing his posture as he looked around the grounds. He reached up and removed his hat, simply letting it hang from his fingertips by his side. “The Duke and the Noble Guard will be arriving within the next day or two, and every minute there’s an immeasurable risk that things will drastically change, suddenly, depending on what they know and what they choose to do with that knowledge. I need everyone working together as best as they can, even if by ‘working together’ I mean that you follow orders to do nothing, say nothing, and stay put.”

 Melanie nodded with a quiet and subdued ‘yes sir’, shifting her weight on her cramping legs as she stayed in her squat. The Captain followed suit with a clearer ‘yes sir’, taking off his own hat and tucking it under one arm.

 “Do either of you have any more concerns or anything to say before I dismiss you both?”

 Her eyes raised to meet his own as she shook her head. Captain Grant spoke clearly, but the fight in him was gone. “I apologize sincerely for my conduct and behaviour, Commander. It was below my station and beneath my own standards. If further disciplinary action is required, I will accept it with the humility that my rank requires, sir.”

 A tense moment passed, Martellis simply staring at Grant with his eyebrows raised. “Anything further?” He asked, almost proddingly.

 Grant seemed to hesitate curiously, shaking his head. “No, sir.”

 “I’m not the only one deserving of apology, Captain--” Martellis began to suggest rather pointedly, but both men turned in surprise as the large woman spoke.

 “It’s actually very insulting where I’m from to be offered an apology from someone without their own motivation to do so properly, or have it offered due to any type of coercion regardless of the intent,” she said heavily and quickly, her head turning to the side as she tried to find something distracting among the trees alongside the grounds, inhaling deeply through her nose. “May I be dismissed?”

 “Yes,” Martellis said after a brief pause, his voice solemn. “You may.”

 She stood, her bones and joints creaking and popping as she grunted from the effort. She turned quickly, stepping back into the woods and pretending to examine the trees and their branches, ignoring the sounds of the two men behind her. The sensation of the blood rushing back to her legs and feet hit her after a moment, and she leaned against a trunk to avoid looking as unsteady as she felt.

 The exhaustion and loneliness of her situation; the crushing weight of fear and uncertainty, was clawing its way back into her mind. The aches and pain in her body she was still trying to ignore and work through were always on the periphery, reminding her where she was, how she got here, and what she was without. She stared at the trees and the light coming through the thinner branches in patches of golden, morning beams, and tried to walk the tightrope of imagining she was home, and trying not to think about a place she may not see again.

 “Are you interested in company or would you prefer to be left alone?” Martellis’ voice came up loudly through the rustling of the wind and trees and leaves. “Captain Grant has been dismissed back to the facility.”

 “The offer is appreciated but I don’t want to keep you from your other duties,” she said back, a tightness in her chest straining her voice. A series of light grunts attracted her attention downward and she saw the Commander hoisting himself onto the lower end of one of the bigger rocks in the area, making a climb for the higher end closest to her.

 “Considering someone foolishly gave all three of your assigned servicemen other tasks for the time being, this is my only duty presently,” he called. She sighed, turning toward the rock and slumping back against the tree, sliding down as she let her legs spread out among the grass and underbrush. A lingering but comfortable quiet moment hung between them as Martellis managed to find a comfortable enough seat atop the rock.

 “Would it be insulting if I were to apologize for the Captain’s disrespect?” He asked, almost casually, as he idly played with his hat in his hands.

 “It’s complicated, but no; not necessarily. It just wouldn’t be as helpful as instincts may have you believe,” she offered softly after thinking on it, her eyes up into the canopy. “I will say that I very much appreciate the effort you gave, but trying to mediate an apology from someone who doesn’t think or see what they would need to apologize for only builds resentment on two sides.”

 “I’ve never been given that perspective before, but I understand it; at least partially,” he replied.

 “I don’t like giving improper or false apologies,” she said, breaking another peaceful quiet. “I was reactive, and I acknowledge that it was not a reaction I would’ve wanted to have. That reaction has hurt me more than it’s likely to have hurt anyone else, but the damage I did to him and others will still have to be reckoned with eventually; I’m just not in a place at the moment, emotionally speaking, to apologize properly for it. If he’s not, either, then it’s not fair for him to have to.”

 “The reactions from both of you were out of line, which caused them to escalate. I will state, for your records, that he was out of line first. I don’t know if that’s comforting or helpful to hear.” He rolled his shoulders in a small stretch, scratching the back of his neck with a free hand while he scanned the forest around them. “I would like to hear how you believe your own reaction has harmed you, if it’s something you would permit me to know.”

 She turned her eyes down to look at him; his posture was relaxed to the point of looking casual, but seemed weighed down with tiredness. The tightness in her chest was threatening to become a lump in her throat. “I’m trying, Commander,” she managed after struggling to push past it. “I really am trying to be cooperative, to be understanding; I’m trying to build goodwill for myself, I’m trying not to ruffle more feathers than I have to. I knew that in this instance that there would be pushback regardless of what happened or how much effort I put in trying to prevent it or correct it.”

 “What I guess I failed to think about was how repetitive it would be,” she sighed, tipping her head back and letting it rest against the trunk as she closed her eyes, the lids trying to hold back the water building up behind them. “It seems foolish to be upset about it. Of course this wouldn’t have been said and done, all at once; of course this would need to happen over and over and over again with every new face and every new group. It’s only been a day, but it’s hard not to feel like every ounce of progress I’m making while trying to put men like Kendrick and Jones at ease with myself is completely erased every time a new troop has to face down the horrifying reality of… me. I know it’s not the case, mind you; I know that Kendrick and Jones aren’t back to their initial fear or standoffishness simply because someone new has no idea what to make of me. But it still sits heavily.”

 Birds flitted skittishly through the trees, attracting her attention enough to make her open her eyes and watch them before she continued, turning her face back toward the Commander on his rock, almost at eye-level with herself. “So when there’s someone like the Captain, who seems to be going the opposite way despite my efforts, who seems to be aggravated by just my persistence in existing- as if I had that much of a choice in the matter-, being reactive and argumentative seems like a natural response but it also seems counter-intuitive and feels like I’m just proving his worst thoughts of me right, and that it will undo whatever work I’ve done to be better than that. In his eyes and everyone else’s as well.”

 “Sorry for rambling,” she added, sighing tiredly. 

 “There’s no need to apologize,” Martellis said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. “When I spoke with Henry this morning he informed me that you have a unique way of describing things.”

 “Oh,” Melanie said, seemingly surprised. “He told me to avoid doing this, yes,” she admitted after a moment. “Talking through my emotions and situation helps me cope, though; unfortunately for him. If he were here, it would be a different story.”

 “He’d know a bit better how to handle this,” Martellis offered.

 “No, not at all,” the large woman chuckled, her face brightening with a genuine smile for a moment. “He’d probably be just as lost as I am but we’d at least get to figure it out together. It’d give me less of a reason to over-analyze everything.”

 “Analysis seems to be important to you.”

 “Yes, very; though it’s taxing. Hard to balance the need to get a handle on everything and when to stop before I get overwhelmed.” Another pair of birds called loudly to each other as they passed through the area, both Melanie and the Commander watching them before she continued. “I have a suspicion you’re about to subtly suggest that this isn’t the kind of conversation I should have with the interrogator whenever they arrive.”

 “There’s nothing I would suggest, subtly or otherwise, beyond answering honestly any question you are asked by them about yourself,” he said, frankly. “I do hope, openly, that you and I will have the freedom to have more conversations like this in the future.”

 She laughed quietly, smirking at him. “Did Henry tell you to say that?” He tilted his head curiously toward her before shaking it. Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh. I wouldn’t have expected you to want to do this again. I have a tremendous talent for oversharing.”

 “I haven’t felt that to be the experience, but I do enjoy conversation quite a bit. I don’t find myself in much of a position to freely engage, however.” Martellis glanced over his shoulder to check on possible progress of the men he had sent off, and saw that their end of the field was very much still empty.

 “I’m surprised,” she responded. “You seem to have a great rapport with at least the Captain, despite the trouble I’m causing for you both at the moment. The men respect you, highly, and a few of them seem like they’d be good conversationalists.”

 “It’s part of the structure, unfortunately,” he sighed, turning back around to look at her. “Myself and Grant can speak a bit more as equals, as we’re both commanding officers, but otherwise even off-duty there’s a presence of mind about the position I hold and the order I have to maintain among the rest of the men.”

 “Lionus?” Melanie asked, curiously.

 “Corporal Ethridge is… certainly open for conversation with most, but I don’t believe that extends to me. His focus is mostly on the medical corps, and I feel like maintaining a bit of a separation between those ranks may be beneficial, given his capable control of that unit.” The Commander paused a moment before frowning. “You shouldn’t be hearing any of this.”

 “Consider it not-heard,” she said, probably a bit too casually for his comfort, but she continued talking rather than try to gauge his reaction too closely. “He holds you and the Watch in extremely high regard.” Her tone was gentle but serious, and she shifted her weight and brought a knee up so she could rest an arm across it. “I think it would mean a lot to him if you didn’t have that kind of a separation between the ranks, personally; though I don’t know the intricacies of the kind of relationships you all have. It could be a good reason to start having deeper conversations with him.”

 “I won’t prod into what you’ve been told, it sounds like this is a situation I would do well to know as little about as possible,” Martellis leveled. She raised her hands in mock-surrender.

 “I was told he has great respect for you, and he told me how much he loves this… unit? Branch? Forgive my ignorance on any of the terminology, I’ll try to learn it. He also told me, in the event you were looking for ideas on how to maybe bridge the gap a little, that Kendrick’s first year anniversary of joining the Watch is coming up in a few days. You should get him a cake to celebrate with everyone.”

 The mixed look of bafflement and amusement on Martellis’ face at her last suggestion made her smile. “They don’t get cake for their--”

 “They should!” She said, cutting him off with a grin. “It’s a whole year; the first year. It’s special. And it’s a good excuse to start a tradition of it. Cake on the first anniversary, and you can also use it to help with morale a little by saying it’s a shared celebration for how well they all handled an incredibly terrible experience this week.”

 “It hasn’t been incredibly terrible,” he countered with the hint of a smile, pausing in thought. “I’ll keep the idea in mind, should an opportunity arise for it. For now, however, we need you to mark the points where the beams will go.”

 She nodded, sighing and looking up at the canopy again. “Thank you for giving me some way to help.”

 “The conversation was also a help, though given the nature of the situation at hand, probably best it wasn’t shared or encouraged much,” he said, pushing himself into a standing position on the rock and dusting off his pants.

 “I’m in an emotionally fragile place right now,” she said softly. “I could take a moment to let myself cry and we could pretend I was reprimanded if it would help the narrative at all.”

 “You don’t have to cry,” Martellis said with concern, turning to look at her as a tear rolled down her cheek, her eyes still on the greenery above them.

 “No,” she admitted, taking a shaky breath through a sad smile, “not at the moment. But it will have to come at some time today, and I’d hate to wait until I was going to sleep.”

 He stared at her, watching her as she took another deep and shaky breath before turning to look at him again, more tears easily finding their way from her to the ground.

 “Not as any reflection on your efforts, Commander, but considering the events: this has been an incredibly terrible experience. Thank you, in the face of it all, for trying to make it better.”

 “Take all the time you need,” he said, gently, concern etched all over his features. “Is there anything I can do?”

 “Just don’t tell Henry.”

Chapter Text

 “Was told to bring you compliments for the food again, Fuller!” Edmund Miller shouted into the kitchen as he passed a window, returning with a number of plates and bowls from the construction ongoing across the grounds, lunch having come to an end now that the third shift had moved through, gotten their food and finished up. 

 “If you’re heading back over, you can share that dinner will be even better!” Fuller shouted back, leaning out the window to see Miller. Edmund grinned, nodding.

 “Work’s going very well, sirs!” Edmund offered with a chipper salute as he approached the Captain and Commander, both standing at the top of the road in wait for the Staff Sergeant. “First two runs of scaffolding are up, other two should be finished within the hour down the northern side. Southern side we may be able to get all four runs done before dark if you’ll have the men working that long at it. Holes’ve been dug for the posts and we’ve got two men carving notch-rungs ‘round the top of them for the ropes.”

 He cleared his throat, glancing between the two officers with a rather telling expression of discomfort. “The men’s work is occurring at a safe distance, as per instructions.”

 The Captain and Commander nodded, saluting Edmund quickly. “Good,” Grant offered in response. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

 Edmund saluted again and then turned swiftly, striking back off across the field toward the construction in progress far at the back. Melanie was sitting against a thicker tree-trunk, almost in the corner of the grounds, scribbling in a book. From this distance, if they could ignore the two men stationed around her, she looked like she could just be someone sitting under any normal, small tree. 

 “She seems to have settled,” Grant offered, quietly and subtly apologetically as Martellis continued to stare. During the multiple runs of material-transport from one end of the field to the other, word had spread rather quickly that their large guest looked as though she had been crying, and the Commander was aware that there were an infinite number of rumors as to how that had come about already flying through the men at the facility. Much like Miller’s reaction seemed to impress, there were men who were already a bit ruffled by the news.

 “Yes, thankfully,” Martellis replied, turning back to watch the road as the sound of horses on approach met their ears. The call had reached them minutes ago of the Sergeant being on approach, and so they both broke from their supervising duties over the teams on this end of the field to await him.

 Commander Martellis had been overseeing the kitchen and the men still performing duties inside the facility, while Captain Grant had begun setting teams to work the horses out in the open, in hopes of getting at least the animals here to become desensitized to their guest. It was working surprisingly well, thus far.

 Staff Sergeant Thorne dismounted in front of them, eyes not looking away from the Commander and seeming nearly shaken. An older gentleman, he had retired from active duty with the Noble Guard over ten years ago after being wounded in an armed altercation with Hostenian troops. While those who had been stationed with him at the time felt a change from active duty to one of resource management and report-filing and communications direction would be a struggle, he honestly had thrived. His hair was more gray than the original brown it had been in his youth, and he kept it cropped short on the sides and long on top to try and balance a noticeably receding hairline.

 The three men saluted each other as Thorne adjusted himself properly on the ground. One leg, due to the damage he had taken, was noticeably shorter than the other, and as a result he always stood at a slight angle.

 “The beach clean-up is going as well as it can,” he said, gruffly. “They’ve gotten almost everything that was floating on our side of the barrier stones, minus a safe radius away from that hulking thing propped up on them. The lads’ve been out to observe it as best they can from all sides, and the good news is that save for another storm like the one that landed it there, it’s proper stuck.”

 He shook his head, lifting his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow now in the lingering mid-afternoon heat. “The items they’ve retrieved… well, I had them cover it as best they could for transport. Most of the debris, aside from the size, could be left on shore and tied down without causing much suspicion, but I worry that any eyes that may have landed on what we’ve dragged out would have some noted concerns.”

 “Glad to hear it’s being transported, in that case,” Martellis said, clasping a hand on Thorne’s shoulder appreciatively.

 “Where is it?” Thorne asked, huffing out a long exhale as he started to scan, Captain Grant turning and pointing to the far back corner of the field. Thorne squinted, his hand above his brow to try and get a better look at her, unable to judge size easily from where they stood.

 “We’ve stationed Melanie at the end of the field to avoid causing strain to the horses and to prevent any distraction to the men while they work,” Grant explained, sounding a bit pointed. Grant had always found the Staff Sergeant to be a bit of a dullard.

 “Right,” Thorne drawled, before reaching into his satchel and taking out his report book and pencil, beginning to scribble notes in shorthand while continuing to glance up at her in fixation. “How big is it? Have we done any measurements?”

 “We haven’t measured her yet, no,” the Commander said, a frown flashing across his face.

 “Do we have an estimate?”

 “The men of her watch last night made a guess of 15 yards or more, if you need something before a proper measurement can be done on her.” Martellis and Grant shared a look as Thorne muttered to himself, scribbling away as Grant spoke.

 “Phenomenal,” the man breathed as he looked back up at the two of them. “And it speaks King’s Tongue, then? How do you suppose Henry was able to train it?”

 “She,” Martellis weighed heavily, “speaks the language, if a bit stilted at times. We have not asked about how she came to know the language and have not asked Mr. Lemuels about the circumstances involved, as that is the duty of the nobility.”

 “Ah, yes,” Thorne said, nodding. “You mentioned that you had some of it’s-- her, items confiscated. Do you have an account of them?”

 “We do, you can oversee them yourself as we have them barricaded near the facility,” Grant said, waving him around the front of the building toward the other side of the stables where they had constructed some short fencing out of spare scaffolding, but Thorne threw his hand up and waved the Captain off with an annoyed grunt.

 “Just the account will be fine,” he said gruffly, flipping the pages in his book as Grant openly rolled his eyes, Martellis trying not to smirk. The gutting of their ranks by the higher forces had made their official structure a mess; while the Staff Sergeant rank had previously been a tactical position with much more command and control, it had been for many years now simply a role of finances and accounting at best. “I have the record of what-all she consumed yesterday, but do we have stock of what was eaten today?”

 “Not yet, but Second Lieutenant Fuller should have that recorded for us,” Martellis offered, gesturing toward the doors to the mess-hall on the front of the building.

 “Ah, excellent, yes-- I feel that will be a pressing question for the nobility to ask us.”

 After thoroughly interrogating Fuller for as precise a weight as he could think of for the food he had fed Melanie today, Thorne looked out the back doors toward the far end of the field again, trying to judge her size once more from a far.

 “Can we make her come here?” He asked, shifting on his leg awkwardly.

 “We would have a hard time getting the command to her, Sergeant,” Grant said flatly.

 “Don’t we have speaking-trumpets here?” Thorne responded, irritatedly.

 “She’s nearly six-hundred yards away, that would be of no use. We can take horses to a closer position, if you would prefer that,” Martellis offered. “Though I’d recommend against getting too close as they haven’t been out much with her in motion yet.”

 “Yes, yes, we’ll take horses,” Thorne huffed, immediately striking out for the stables and calling for whatever soldier was nearest to get him one of the ‘better behaved stallions’.

 The Captain and Commander followed behind, their own horses having been fairly desensitized already after their experience on the beach. They made good time across the grounds, normally taking the better part of 10 minutes to traverse at a steady march, and as they just passed the mid-way point Melanie’s attention was drawn to them, either on her own or by being told by one of her handlers; they couldn’t tell from there.

 Thorne swore under his breath, pulling tight on the reins as she placed a hand over her brow and squinted out to the field. He pulled up hard, bringing the horse to a dramatic halt as she moved to stand, coming to her full height beneath the tree. Martellis smiled to himself as she moved into an at-ease stance, her arms folded behind her as she watched them.

 “She must be fifty feet, at least!” Thorne stated, sounding both in awe and panicked.

 “That sounds like an accurate number to me,” Grant said. “Is there anything else you need from this beyond the progress on her holding area?”

 Thorne snapped his head to the right, looking at the construction efforts underway, trying to shake off the confusion of having completely forgotten why he was here. “Yes-- I mean, no, that’s all I needed. They’ll be erecting a second of these structures?”

 “Yes, and adding another layer on top of the one they’re making now,” Martellis said, his eyes still on Melanie. “Do you require any closer inspection, Staff Sergeant?”

 “No, no-- let’s return, my horse is upset,” Thorne said, yanking on the reins to turn his horse around. The Commander kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and rode further ahead, trying to make sure he could be seen clearly as he raised the signal for ‘hold’ with his right arm. Melanie repeated it back, keeping her hand at her stomach-level, and moved to sit down again carefully and pick up her book.

 Martellis did an arching wave before wheeling his horse around and kicking it into a run to catch up with Thorne and the Captain.

 “Do you have an idea of how strong she is?” Thorne asked, almost breathless as he frantically wrote in his reports. “Any guess on what kind of weight she can lift or hold?”

 “We can’t place her under any kind of testing until the nobility arrives,” Martellis stressed as patiently as he could as they sat around the desk in the Commander’s room upstairs in the facility. “And she’s still recovering from the injuries of her accident, so even if the nobility clears her for testing…” Thorne almost spat with impatience.

 “Their messenger seemed to indicate no rush when I spoke last, the earliest I would plan to expect them is by dinner tomorrow, and even that would likely not mean they come here right away.”

 “The Duke and Duchess have been given a very bare skeleton of what’s occurred here, I would prefer they take their time and think it’s nothing to rush over than to have had information about it leak to a degree enough to cause panic,” Martellis replied.

 “And she’s tame, you said?” Thorne blurted, looking up from his pages as if he hadn’t heard a single word.

 “She’s cooperative with our efforts thus far,” the Commander clarified, looking out the window into the sun of the afternoon, wishing it was night; today had been even more exhausting than he had anticipated, and it wasn’t even the dinner call yet.

 “Will she take orders? What commands does she know?”

 “For King’s sake, Humphrey, she’s a woman not a dog,” Grant snapped, slapping his hand on the desk from his seat alongside. “The reason we keep telling you to wait for the nobility to arrive and assess is because she’s essentially a civilian, regardless of her size.”

 “Yes, well,” Thorne blustered, his eyes flitting about his pages trying to find the place he had lost. “I have to think of her militarily, so to speak-- it is my job, as you know, Captain.”

 Martellis stared at the Sergeant in flat, unamused silence as he bungled his response. Glancing to Grant, he saw that Grant was bored more than insulted by the Sergeant's attempt at vitriol.

 “It is your job to write the reports with the information we have on hand, and to ensure that they are ready for us to present to the Duke and the Noble Guard upon arrival,” Grant droned bluntly. “Neither your position nor the situation at hand calls for or even encourages you to wax-tactical about the fifty foot woman on the back lawn.”

 Martellis snorted, trying to hide it with a cough.

 “Excuse me?” Thorne asked, offended.

 “The Captain is correct, Sergeant,” the Commander stated after clearing his throat. “Should we take too much liberty or exercise too much entitlement in trying to propose how she should or should not be utilized, we all run the risk of being removed from duty by the Guard given the gravity of this situation. For now, stick with what we know; give them a blank slate, so that they don’t jump to conclusions about how they would’ve handled the situation differently from us.”

 The Staff Sergeant made muffled thinking noises for a moment, before nodding. “Quite right, Commander. Make them put in the work themselves, seeing as we’ve done all we have already for them.”

 He bowed his head to finish scribbling as Grant and Martellis locked eyes across the wooden desk, Martellis openly mouthing ‘we?’ as the Captain shook his head with an amused smirk.

 “I believe this concludes the reports I can make from here for today. I’ll take two men back to the barracks with me on horseback, and get the clean-copies made. I’ll have copies sent to both of your desks before I return home for the evening.” Thorne stood up, gathering his items as the Captain and Commander stood and placed their hats back on their heads to see him out.

 “Give Ellen our warmest regards,” Martellis said, gesturing toward the door.

 “Don’t tell her what’s been going on, Humphrey,” Grant said sharply, the closest he had ever come to outright pleading.

 “Sirs, this is official military secrets we are speaking of, what do you take me for? I’ve been in the forces longer than you’ve been walking upright.”

 “Right you are, Staff Sergeant. Thank you for utilizing your expertise in the Watch; it’s sorely needed here.”

 The Sergeant saluted the men outside at the top of the road, pausing before mounting a horse again to stare at Melanie in the back as she stood, stretching, the sun finally giving her a bit more shade from the trees behind. As he and two of the younger soldiers galloped off, Grant heaved a sigh. “How many more days?”

 “Forty eight, I’ve already ordered a cake for him,” Martellis stated.

 “Does it say ‘Happy Retirement’ or ‘About Time’?” Grant asked, deadpan.

 Martellis laughed before shaking his head. “Neither, the last thing the old man needs is an excess of icing.” The two men chuckled together, turning to head back inside. “Speaking of cakes, however…”

Chapter Text

 “Ma’am!” Edmund called, walking over from the construction site near her items. Melanie looked up from where she lay in the dirt, head resting on her folded arm, and saw Wells and Harper- another of the younger soldiers who was assigned to her- turn to look at him as well.

 “Miller,” she replied with a smile, pushing herself up to lean on an elbow.

 “We could use your help holding the beams up for us while we pour the mortar in, ma’am, if you think you could handle that!”

 She almost jumped, causing the younger soldier to startle as she pushed herself quickly into a sitting position, leaning over to Edmund who grinned widely up at her, hands on his hips and unyielding as she approached him. “Is it alright?”

 “Staff Sergeant’s gone and all’s clear. Just take your time still, only a few of them would make the cut for the Brigade,” he laughed. She smiled at him, appreciatively, and mouthed a thanks before turning back to Wells. “Permission to help, sir?”

 He nodded, waving at her with the back of his hand. “By their orders.”

 Melanie admired the three floors of scaffolding they had constructed on the further side of her ‘living area’ as she walked over, and the two-and-a-half floors of framing they had strung up and were beginning to fill in with the plank walkways on the other side. The area was still bustling as men came to awkward halts or broke into a quick run to move out from where they thought her path was going to take her. The scaffolding was only the person-sized paths, as opposed to including the extra wide, horse-sized runs like the structures back by the facility, and she nodded in approval. “You’ve done very fast work, it’s amazing,” she said quietly, mostly to Edmund but knowing it would carry to the others.

 “Hah, I’ve been a runner most of today, ma’am! All these men have been putting in the real labor,” he called back, walking ahead and making a path for her to the large beams laying on the ground. “We got the notches carved into the top of them for you, so just help us hold the other end in the ground while they do the pour if you could please!”

 She nodded, getting on her knees and placing her hands on the first beam; a square wooden pole just over three feet high and between one to two inches thick. Sliding the fingers of one hand underneath, she hoisted it carefully with little issue, the whole thing weighing about fifteen to twenty pounds at most. Turning it the proper way up, she adjusted her position by sliding on her knees and gently sliding the post into the nearest hole.

 “Ready for pour!” Edmund called, snapping a few of the men who had stopped working to watch her handle the beam out of their stupor, and Melanie watched as two ran over with buckets full of a dark gray cement-like goop to dump in while she held it in place.

 “How long does it usually take to set?” She asked curiously as several more men ran in with wooden planks that had been oddly cut, locking them together around the beam at strange angles.

 “Should be set enough to not desperately need the supports in about five to ten minutes, give it a full hour to make sure she’s dry and solid,” Edmund called up. “Can I ask you a question, ma’am?”

 “Not sure if I’m at liberty to answer, but you can definitely ask and I’ll try,” she said, grinning down at the wooden supports as the men stepped back from testing them. “That’s incredibly smart, I don’t think I’ve ever seen ones like that before.” A few of the men below her beamed proudly before turning to run or jog back to their safety-positions as she carefully let go of the beam, admiring how sturdy the angled boards were.

 “Did your friend Henry have much of an issue traveling around where you were from?” Edmund asked, hopping over the next beam while she walked on her knees toward the next hole.

 “We made due in a lot of ways; eventually we built things like stairs and walkways more to his size to help him get around a bit closer to eye-level, but for any notable amount of travel he was typically just with me,” she answered with a shrug. 

 “Meaning he was carried?” Edmund asked as he stepped backwards, watching her hoist the next beam up and pull it toward herself, finding the right end to send into the ground.

 “Yes, or riding,” she hummed thoughtfully as she positioned the pole and slid herself backwards carefully, letting the men come back in with the mortar and supports. “We adjusted some of my clothing to have supports and things for him to hold onto so we could move a bit more freely, mostly on the shoulders and collars. Carrying was typically for quicker moves; I always assumed because of his sailing experience he has a natural ability to acclimate to those kinds of movements, and to be able to balance as well as he can.”

 Edmund was oddly quiet for a moment, and the large woman turned her eyes up to look at him curiously as she waited to learn where the conversation was going.

 “Did you find him heavy?” Miller asked after walking in to check the supports.

 “Heavier than I expected at first, but I’d never say he was heavy enough to be a problem,” she mused with a shrug. “...Why?”

 Edmund looked up at her with an expression that was clearly attempting to feign some kind of innocence. “I was just wondering, that’s all,” he pleaded casually, walking away from her to go test the supports on the other pole as she slowly removed her hands from the one in front of her again. “How many,” he started, a bit too suspiciously, and Melanie took a glance around to see how many other men were interested in this particular line of questioning, “do you think you could probably carry at once?”

 “Depends on how big of a cut I’ll get from whatever bet you placed,” she responded slyly, hearing Bartlett belt out a laugh somewhere behind her as a few other men chuckled.

 “Now, Ma’am!” Edmund turned toward her dramatically, again feigning innocence as more men started to laugh with him. “Wagers of such a nature are strongly discouraged among the ranks of the Watch! I’d never stoop so low as to place a bet on say, the number fifteen.”

 Her eyes opened wide in surprise as she laughed at him, several of the other men jeering and laughing along, shaking her head. “I honestly don’t know, Lieutenant Miller, but if things work out, we can maybe run some tests if we get enough willing volunteers.”

 “Miss,” Wells called, sharply but not harshly, from alongside the construction. She turned, nodding to him as the smile faded.

 “Any more work I should do for you all? Or should I head back to my corner for the time being?”

 Edmund turned toward a man who was up on the scaffolding behind still, calling out loudly to him. “Dawson?”

 “If she can hand me up four more of the gangplanks before she goes, I’d appreciate it; otherwise everyone else get back to work!” The man called Dawson, clearly in charge of the efforts, replied loudly. She smiled, carefully making her way through the crowd again and grabbing four of the long, flat boards to lift up toward him. He directed her, a little awkwardly with a lot of staring, on how to slide them into place so he and the other man hanging off of the frame could lock them into place, before thanking her kindly.

 “You’re very welcome; if you need anything else, I won’t be far,” she said, smiling politely and waving as she stood up straight again, Wells now directing her path through the worksite. “Sorry, Lieutenant Wells,” she said in a whisper as she moved to lie back down once they’d returned to their little waiting area. “Thank you for keeping me in check.”

 “Just my duty, miss,” he said, nodding to her. He had a serious face, his neutral expression looking like a man deep in his thoughts. Dark blonde hair, a long nose and sharp features were almost betrayed by stunning dark eyes, large and round, with a browline that seemed soft, pleasant. He was one of the taller men, with a thin, lithe frame, and as he removed his jacket to inspect the back for dirt or debris from traveling through the dusty construction zone she was reminded of male figure skaters.

 “It’s appreciated all the same,” she said, rolling onto her back and staring up at the sky and the tree above her. “Thank you for your work as well, Harper.”

 “You’re welcome, miss,” the younger soldier said hesitantly. She sighed, bringing a hand up to touch the gash on her head. It had nearly healed itself closed, and was much less sensitive but still tender to prodding. “Would you like us to call the medics for you?”

 “I think I’m fine, but if we could get a word for the Corporal to see me before they leave for the day just in case, that would be good,” she replied. “Do we know if or when they’ll be heading back tonight?”

 “They should be heading back after supper call, depending on the progress of the construction,” Wells said, staring down the field toward the facility as he buttoned up his coat again.

 She gave an affirmative hum, bringing her arm up to rest her head on as she turned back over onto her side. “I know that I’m not supposed to ask questions,” she started, softly, and Wells turned around slowly to give her a skeptical look. “How do you address nobility, properly?” She asked, grimacing uncomfortably. “Is it ‘your highness’? ‘Lord’ and ‘Lady’?”

 He paused a moment before walking a few steps closer to her. “...’Your grace’ is the usual level of respect for the Duke or Duchess. The guards with them will be ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’. Lesser members of their entourage or family are ‘Sire’ and ‘Madame’, typically, but sir and ma’am are good enough respect depending on the situation.”

 She smiled as he continued the explanation, watching him lower himself to a sitting position. “‘Your Majesty’ and ‘Your Worship’ are all for the King and Queen, and their children are referred to by ‘Highness’.”

 Melanie nodded. “The title of Duke and Duchess is typically granted by the monarch, yes? Aside from marriage, I assume.”

 “Yes, though that doesn’t mean he can’t grant the title to members of the family, who will then run double-duties. The King and Queen had their children fairly late, so the Princes and Princesses likely will not wind up getting Duke and Duchess titles until the oldest Princess takes over and chooses to assign them. The Duke of this province, specifically, is one of the King’s younger cousins.”

 She hummed in thought as Wells started to pick some dirt off of his boots. “Do you have ‘Earls’ here?”

 “Not quite sure if you mean as a title or a name; so my guess is no, we don’t have a title of ‘Earl’ here,” he said after a moment of thought. “Lords and Ladies we have, they’ll be introduced as such. Title is less to do with nobility and more to do with what they own.”

 “Land, trade, etcetera; I know the type,” she replied with a sigh. “How does your ranking structure work? I was surprised when the Commander implied that he had authority over the Staff Sergeant, for some reason I thought that title would hold more weight but maybe I’m thinking of a Master Sergeant?”

 “Given that’s military information, I don’t think I’m at liberty to teach you that until you’re given the OK,” he stated flatly, rolling his neck before looking up at her. “Did Henry teach you about the ranks and nobility here?”

 She winced, hesitating. “Well, yes and no. I think that’s a question I can’t answer yet, myself.”

 He nodded slowly, taking a quick look over his shoulder and then making brief eye-contact with Harper who started whistling innocently, turning his back toward Wells as they both removed their hats. Melanie’s eyes darted between them both, confusion on her features.

 “...Technically,” Wells started, stretching a leg out and massaging his hamstring, “I have command over the Staff Sergeant because he’s a non-commissioned officer. All commissioned officers are above non-commissioned officers when it comes to field orders.”

 “Ahhh,” she expressed quietly, leaning up on her elbow, resting her head on her hand. “I think that’s similar to where I’m from, but I don’t know anything about the military or it’s divisions aside from some names and words I’ve heard in passing.”

 “Is there a sizable military where you’re from?” Harper asked, getting a rock flicked at him by Wells. “Ah-! I mean--” Melanie had already started chuckling. “Aside from-- you know what I meant.”

 “I think so,” Melanie said in response. “My country has one of the larger forces, I believe. Our southern neighbor dwarfs ours; they’re seemingly in almost constant conflict elsewhere in the world. It’s a mess, where I’m from. Conflict hasn’t… really landed near enough to me for my life to be in disarray or for me to be that concerned with the military or the navy or the-- the overall forces and structure,” she offered. “When I was growing up, our forces were spoken of as Peacekeepers. Sending our forces in for humanitarian aid in areas with a lot of strife and conflict; helping when disasters struck elsewhere. I don’t know how much of it was true, but I used to derive some pride from it.”

 “Is there… much conflict here?” She asked, carefully.

 “We’ve a neighbor to the south of us who likes to cause a fuss as well, I won’t lie,” Wells said after he and Harper shared a long look.

 “Hostenia?” Melanie asked. “Henry mentioned.”

 “Yes, similar size to us. They attempted about a dozen or so years back to annex a peninsula that used to be a landbridge between us, until a series of storms and disasters destroyed the southern third about 60 years ago. We repelled them, obviously, but it took years. Many of the men here now joined the Academies or became enlisted during or just after that conflict.”

 “Is there a risk of more conflict?” She asked in whisper, dropping her hand gently onto the ground between them, cocking her head to the side. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s too sensitive, I’ve already encroached a lot here; I understand.”

 “Just don’t repeat anything,” Wells said solemnly. “I, personally, don’t believe there’s much more risk of conflict, least not on that scale. Skirmishes happen on small scale all the time, mostly just piracy issues. Civilian problems more so than military, but there’s a level of seriousness we have to take it at, given the history.”

 She nodded. “I’m glad the situation sounds relatively quiet, then.”

 “Quiet enough,” he replied with a nod.

 Harper piped up, a bit quietly. “Commander on approach.” Melanie and Wells both looked toward the facility, only seeing a cluster of three horses.

 “You can tell that from here?” She asked, Wells trying to make out who it was.

 “Lord, you’ve got some eyes, Harper,” he said gruffly. “That could just be more horses joining the training on the overtops.”

 “That’s the Commander’s favourite horse,” Harper said, pointing at the one on the far right. “It’s got a taller sock on one foot than the others, and it’s blaze forks at the top.”

 “Damn good eyes,” Wells muttered. “I must be getting old.” He pushed himself off the ground, dusting himself off meticulously. “Alright, everyone: pretend we’re well behaved.”

 Melanie moved to push herself up out of her lying position when she heard a loud and clear, ‘Hold!’ from the Commander, and looked with a squint to see he had a speaking trumpet in hand. She smiled, raising a hand to wave at him as she continued to lie propped up on an elbow and watching himself, Lionus and Devon riding toward them.

 The horses were surprisingly comfortable with her, at least while she was laying down, and came relatively close before the men dismounted and Harper ran to collect the reins. Martellis, Lionus and Devon all removed their hats immediately, prompting Harper and Wells to do the same and the giant woman simply looked between them all with visible confusion as everyone seemed to become more relaxed.

 “Did I do well in my report with the Staff Sergeant?” She asked timidly, her eyes on the Commander. He nodded, kicking a small rock out from under his boot as he stood in front of her.

 “The report is finished, all that can be done now is to wait,” he said quietly.

 “You seem tired,” she said gently. “I hope you get to rest, soon.”

 He smiled briefly in response, nodding, as Lionus and Devon stepped forward with the medical supplies again. “He’ll be able to sleep better if you’re well and fully on the mend, Miss, so if you could let me take another look at your head and your knee, that’ll help immensely!”

 She laughed, dropping her arm down underneath her and resting her head on it. “Wear gloves this time so Devon doesn’t spend the entire time complaining,” she suggested with a smirk.

 “Not much to complain about now that you don’t stink like a beached whale,” Devon replied, causing a spitting laugh from Lionus and a horrified and startled expression from the Commander and Wells behind him.

 “You’ve got your head so far up your own ass you can’t smell anything past your own shit, Devon,” Melanie retorted, openly shocked he’d made a comment like that in front of the Commander but not wanting to let it slide. Wells covered his mouth with his arm, pretending to cough through some slight, uncomfortable laughter.

 “Decorum, my god,” Martellis snapped, turning to see if any of the men at the construction site across the field may have heard anything. Lionus was utterly cackling as Melanie and Devon both said quiet ‘Sorry, sir’s toward the Commander before their serious demeanors were broken by restrained laughter. “Do I need to worry about this?” He asked, turning to Lionus and gesturing between the two.

 “No, sir,” Lionus said, finally collecting himself from laughing, breathing heavily in an attempt to steady himself back to seriousness. “But maybe avoid being around for medical treatment.”

 “Can I request Kendrick instead?” Melanie asked, almost whining, as the Corporal approached her head and started checking the wound about her brow.

 “Hush, we’re working,” Lionus said lightly as she shrugged; It had been worth the ask. “Try and stay still for us now, I appreciate it.”

 “We’ll be calling off the construction efforts just after dinner for you so you can get your tarp up before dark,” Martellis explained as Lionus and Devon began mixing up the poultice again. “They’ll need to finish the second set of scaffolding tomorrow morning, but we’re hoping to have you closer to the facility tomorrow for further training the horses.”

 She smiled. “That sounds wonderful, honestly. Will you be seeing Henry tonight when you get back to the barracks?”

 “Yes,” the Commander replied. “I’ll be checking on him, making sure he has what he needs.”

 “I hope he’s doing well,” she said quietly, bracing herself as she felt Lionus place a hand next to the long scab on her forehead.

 “It’s a different mix this time, Miss,” Lionus said, getting Devon to walk over and hold open the satchel of poultice. “Meant to help keep the scabbing from becoming irritable and to speed up healing. Might sting, but not as nasty as the other one.”

 She let out a tense breath and nodded subtly. “Alright, when you’re ready.”

 Her eyes squinted shut as the feeling of lemon on a papercut lit up her face; not extremely strong, but enough to make her flinch. A warming sensation followed after it had been smoothed on, and then a slow cooling feeling.

 “All done Miss, leave it be as long as you can and roll over to show us your leg now,” Lionus cheered happily.

 “I won’t lie,” she said, rolling onto her back and sitting up as the medics moved down toward her legs. “She’s still hard to put all my weight on, but it’s getting better. I don’t buckle, but the walk last night had some rougher bumps on the hills.”

 “You took a pretty bad knock to it in order to get through your clothes, I’m impressed you’re doing as well as you are!” The field doctor called up to her as she pulled the leg of her pants up and rolled it past her knee carefully. The area was heavily bruised, but the cut itself had also managed to form a good, solid scab. Lionus observed it from along-side and then gave her a wave to signal her to lift him onto her leg.

 She reached down, letting him walk up into her palm and hold onto the fingers of her other hand for stability as she raised him just high enough to have him sit himself on her thigh again, just above the knee, and she twitched at the ticklish sensation of him on her bare skin as he motioned for Devon- who had gone noticeably more pale as she handled Lionus- to bring the poultice. “Is it ok if I brace you again?” She asked softly.

 “Yes Miss, absolutely!” He turned up to her with a large grin and nodded, making her feel a bit better about it. As her hand rested gently on his back she made a quiet note to herself how Martellis and Devon intentionally turned to face away, but Harper and Wells were watching with a more open curiosity. The poultice started to sting again and she took a deep inhale, forcing her leg to stay as still as possible against the twitching and tickling; the feeling of every muscle in his legs moving against her causing new bursts of sensation.

 She distractedly rubbed her thumb up and down Lionus’ arm as she waited for him to finish, closing her eyes tightly again and trying not to imagine the last time she saw Henry. She didn’t want to think about him hurt, alone; she tried to remember their adventures on the boat before that. The open sea and nothing around them but water, sun and wind.

 Lionus’ hand came up and rested on the tip of her thumb, patting it comfortingly. “All good, Miss,” he called, the encouraging and cheerful nature of his voice pulling her back out of her memories. She smiled, moving her hand away as he slid back off her leg and she moved to roll her pant leg back down. 

 “That should do you until another check tomorrow morning, and we might need to treat it again tomorrow evening if they’re looking dry, but those are the only two that should need repeated treatment,” he explained, taking off his used gloves and handing them to Devon. “We’ll take another look at your back tomorrow just in case, but let us know if it’s itchy or anything again.”

 “I will, thank you so much Lionus,” she said warmly, hesitating a moment before adding, “and Devon.”

 Devon bowed with a flourish, and Melanie smiled for a second before realizing that the hand close to his chest was flipping her the bird. She laughed, shaking her head. Martellis coughed loudly and the two of them turned to him, Devon snapping to a more attentive stance.

 “Is there anything further you need, either from the Corporal or myself?” Martellis asked, looking up at her. She shook her head with a small smile and a look of concern.

 “No, sir, please go get some rest,” she said quietly. “I’ll take a break in the woods shortly and then relax some more with Wells and Harper until dinner.”

 The Commander sighed, “I have a lot of work to get done, but I appreciate the concern. Honestly, I do."

 She smiled warmly, nodding. "Please have as good a day as you can then, Commander."
            
 Martellis smiled back and fitted his hat back on his head, the other men following suit. "You as well, please." The Commander, Lionus and Devon returned to their horses, Martellis feeling a growing sense of dread.

  It was becoming impossible not to see her as human, and depending on the Duke's reaction, that could be extremely dangerous for everyone involved.

 "I can't believe you let her do that," Devon's voice suddenly cut across as they trotted toward the construction site slowly, snapping Martellis out of his thoughts.

 "Do what?" Lionus asked, feigning ignorance.

 "Don't play stupid, Corporal," Devon said bluntly, Lionus laughing in response.

  "It makes you that uncomfortable? Really?" The Corporal asked, sounding flabbergasted.

  "She picks you up like a child's toy," Devon retorted tersely. Martellis noted from his position alongside that the younger man's jaw was set, and he was tense all over. "You hardly look a person when you're being… handled like that."

  Martellis frowned, suppressing a shudder at the memory of how it felt to be grabbed and carried. 'A child's toy' rang in his mind. He felt cold shivers at the idea that that was how he was seen by the men, or by her.

 "She asked permission, which is more than most in my life have done when they've wanted something of me," Lionus stated clearly. Martellis' eyes snapped to the Corporal as he came out of his thoughts once again. "I had the control I needed to feel safe. She took a risk in trusting me, as well."

 The field doctor stared out toward the grounds and the training facility as their horses slowed on approach to the men at work, a sharp expression coming over him. "I know how toys are treated, by children and by those with power. I'd have rather been a companion to her at times in this career, than a toy soldier to the men who sit in rooms and draw lines on a map."

  Peter Martellis had known Lionus Ethridge for years, and the man he saw on horseback was a haunted shadow of someone else, someone completely different. Even as Lionus turned around to face Devon again, the familiar friendly smirk returning with eyes that sparkled enticingly, inviting you in on a joke you've always loved but never heard, the Commander suddenly could see invisible scars he had never noticed before.

 That bright voice, mischievous but kind, came out of the man as it had thousands of times before. "You should probably not advertise so openly that you've never been held by a woman before, Dev."

  Devon flipped him the bird, the Corporal pointing at his hat and scolding him with a laughing 'decorum', and Martellis almost didn't notice Devon turn to him with an apology. The Commander locked eyes with the Corporal, the Corporal still smiling as he always had. Martellis made a note to himself to speak with Lionus more, as a friend.

Chapter Text

 "It's looking good overall, Mr. Lemuels," Kendrick said happily as he stood alongside one of the beds in the hospital ward.

  "Doesn't feel completely right but it's not broken, thank god," Henry grunted, leaning on the back of a chair for support as he carefully stretched his legs. He groaned, taking a hissing breath as he shifted weight on it.

  "The bruising is definitely the roughest part of it, I'd say," the young red-headed medic commented, coming over to stand next to Henry. "Once around the room slowly before I get you some ice, sir?"

 "Thank you, Private March," the battered sailor replied a bit on the loud side as he let the medic grab the unbroken arm to help support him around the room. 

  "Kendrick, sir, if you please," the boy replied cheerfully. "Medic corps go by first names usually, less'n the top brass is making a show of something." 

 "As you say, Kendrick," Henry laughed through the discomfort, his hip and knee aching badly in the ups and downs of walking. "Call me Henry, as well. The Commander and Captain call me Lemuels, but I'd prefer Henry."

  They did a lap, Henry and Kendrick both coming to the conclusion that the bruising around the hip and knee were causing swelling enough to kick everything out of place, causing his ankle to roll to try and compensate, and Henry helped himself back into the bed while Kendrick ran down to get ice from the reserves.

 "How long have you been with the medic corps?" Henry asked him while he placed two damp bags of ice on the bad leg.

  "It'll be a year this Saturday, sir. Graduated from schooling and came straight here," the grin on his face was full of pride.

 Henry's eyebrows raised as a smile crossed his face. "That's excellent! I'm sorry if having to deal with this has ruined a happy week for you, though."

 Kendrick stared at Henry oddly before laughing, a little awkwardly, and Henry cocked his head curiously. "Sorry sir, it's just… Miss Melanie said the same thing to me on the beach when I was treating-- er, helping treat her."

 "Oh," Henry said with genuine surprise. "I'm sorry-- I didn't realize you had actually spoken with her or anything like that," he said, his voice getting slightly frantic as his heart started to beat faster. "Do you know how she's doing?"

 "I, urhm… I don't think I'm supposed to be saying anything if I knew it, sir, but I haven't heard anything since you last did," Kendrick offered quietly, hesitantly. "The Corporal and Commander should be back soon though now that supper's over!" He added as consolation, smiling sympathetically.

 Henry nodded, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he leaned back into the pillows. Kendrick's bedside manners weren't as polished as the Corporals, but the boy was definitely trying. They had spent most of the day together, Kendrick sometimes having to leave to tend to other duties or collect their meals from the mess, and Henry sometimes falling asleep for lack of anything else to do while he was too battered to leave the room.

 "If…" Kendrick's voice started suddenly, timid and hesitant, and Henry turned to look at him. He had closed his eyes too long in rest, and had to readjust to seeing this man as a normal, person-sized person as opposed to the diminutive figure his mind continued to try to default to. "If it's ok for me to ask…"

 "It all stays here, I promise," Henry encouraged warmly.

 “You spent some time with her, then?” Kendrick asked after struggling to find the words. “I mean as in, the two of you have known each other for some time.”

 “Yes,” Henry said, opting not to say anything more as he remembered the conversation with Peter and Daniel last night. “We lived together after she rescued me, and before we returned here.”

 “Is it-- is everything there built like her?” Kendrick blurted out the question, pulling up a chair and looking like he was relieved to finally be getting the words out.

 Henry laughed, nodding. “Yes, everything was her size. Chairs, tables, food, tools… animals,” he added, shuddering, Kendrick going slightly pale before launching back into a flurry of questions.

 “So there was nothing our size at all there? How did you travel? Or eat? What was living there like? Were there many like her?” Henry paused at the string of query, glancing toward the closed door and grimacing slightly. Kendrick immediately blushed and lowered his voice, nervously. “I’m sorry sir, I know I’m not supposed to ask, I do, but…”

 The boy’s eyes were pleading with him, and Henry sighed, another faint smile crossing his lips. “Only things that were my size were things that had arrived with me on my vessel, and, well--” he halted awkwardly. “There were… toys, of a variety. Doll’s furniture and things that we had managed to find and repurpose to my use at times. Most of it was either a shade too big or too small. When we finally had to dismantle the ship, I was able to build myself some things out of the better lumber; most of it became stairs and platforms to help me move about on my own.”

 “For travel, unfortunately I did little beyond what we did together. Once I had become accustomed to the house-- a massive, four-level thing that would dwarf the Royal Palace, I’m sure of it, simply for the height and scale-- I traveled throughout it mainly on my own, at my leisure, but if we were together we would travel together throughout it. We would go outdoors, but I was never to be alone. Used to annoy me, honestly, but as I said-- the animals were all to her scale. She had reason to never let me be,” he turned his head and looked out the window. “We spent most days when the weather was good on her property. It was well protected from prying eyes. She took me to the sea several times, we went on a few hikes together-- she did most of the hiking, obviously, but I was permitted some freedom in quiet areas; safer places. She took me on her boat.”

 Henry chuckled lightly as he saw the sparkle in Kendrick’s eyes. He hadn't had an audience this captivated since he had met Melanie. He took in a deep breath, glancing toward the door as both of them paused to make sure there were no footsteps coming. “She kept me from others, like herself, as best as she could. There were many; gods, were there many at times. Now and then in our more outward travels, we’d come across a crowd or more, and I had seen… pictures, of sorts, of mass numbers of people in places, but she was fearful of letting me be seen by others.”

 “It would’ve been dangerous?” The young medic asked, breathlessly.

 “I didn’t believe her at first, honestly,” Henry said, shrugging with a dismissive frown. “I was foolish about it, but given that my only experience had been with herself, of course I never believed there was any real danger from anyone else who looked like her. I assumed they’d all be the same. I was wrong, and that’s all I can really say on the matter.” Kendrick fidgeted as Henry took a deep breath. “I did meet a couple. Friends she… trusted, mostly. Well, two she trusted, one she wasn’t given much a choice in, but they all worked out in the end. I never had reason to fear them, but I was also almost never around them without her, so I’ve no idea how the situation could’ve differed.”

 “So mostly it was just yourself, then? I can’t imagine the loneliness, sir… I’m glad you’re back at home.”

 Henry opened his mouth to agree with the boy, before the thought really hit him. It had been lonely, nearly cripplingly so at first, to be the only one like himself in a world of giants; but he had had her, almost the entire time. As lonely as he had felt throughout, he had a hard time using that word now. Hearing this land- that was so familiar, yet so unbearably strange now- be called ‘home’ made his stomach turn for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. He shook his head, coming out of a daze; ‘Of course,’ he thought to himself, ‘I would feel strange having a military hospital be called home.’

 “Thank you, Kendrick,” he managed, the young man seeming concerned by the awkward pause. “No one had welcomed me home before now.”

 Kendrick beamed happily, scooting himself forward to the edge of his seat, leaning over toward him with a thousand questions still dancing on the tip of his tongue when the sound of boots down the hall reached them. The boy's face was almost as red as his hair by the time the door swung open after a warning knock, and he frantically busied himself in the corner arranging medical tools and supplies as Peter, Lionus and Daniel entered at once.

 "How is she?" Henry asked immediately, drawing all three pairs of eyes to him instead of the embarrassed medic. Daniel closed the door, clearing his throat uncharacteristically awkwardly.

 "Patched up," Lionus started cheerfully after getting a nod from the Commander. "Her back needed some work today but it was done easily and the rest of her larger injuries are well on the mend."

 Peter and Daniel pulled up chairs while Lionus immediately approached Henry and reached for him to check his temperature, Henry balking at the motion with fright. "Sorry," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Wasn't expecting the reach… not used to it all still." Lionus apologized quietly, waiting for Henry's permission before reaching over to check his forehead.

 "I'm glad to hear her cuts are healing,“ Henry continued after the Doctor was done, turning to Peter and Daniel. "But how is she?"

  Daniel's eyes glanced around the room as he shifted uncomfortably, Peter placing his hat on the table next to Henry's bed before speaking. "She's been through an ordeal, but she's performing as best as can be expected under such pressure," he said clearly. “Have you eaten?"

 "I have, yes," Henry said, sighing quietly at the deflection. "Finished supper about an hour ago. Has she been eating?"

 "She's fine, Lemuels," Daniel snapped irritably. "She's been eating all meals offered without fuss, and I shouldn't need to remind you that you're not supposed to know any of this, so stop asking."

  "Captain," Peter warned quietly, Daniel simply nodding and crossing his arms in front of him. The Commander turned back to Henry with a soft look. "I promise you she is as well as she can be, we're seeing to that to the best of our abilities. That's all I'm at liberty to say on the matter." Henry nodded defeatedly. 

 Lionus was standing back and watching with an amused smirk as Kendrick, whose face was still nowhere near the correct colour, continued to uselessly busy himself in the corner. The Corporal turned the Commander and cocked his head toward the Private, the Commander waving for Lionus to go ahead.

 "What's your report for the day, Kendrick?" Lionus asked, his smile coming through in the question. He tried not to laugh as several tools clattered out of Kendrick's startled hands.
 
 "Oh, he's f-fine, sirs! Well, uhm, he's still… his leg is still bad, I got him some ice! But it-- it's not broken, anywhere, that umh- that I can see, just bruised and the swelling is probably throwing his ankle out. Oh, the um, swelling around the hip and the knee, sir. We were up for a walk just a little while-- I mean, only around the room, sirs, we didn't go outside the room-- but he was up and walking not too long ago!"

  Lionus grinned widely with a nod, stepping forward and clapping a hand on Kendrick's shoulder. Commander Martellis smiled from his seat, nodding at the young medic. "Fantastic work, Kendrick. You're dismissed for the night, go relax a bit before lights out."
 
 "Yes, Corporal, sir," Kendrick replied happily, relief practically melting all of the tension in his muscles. He paused a second, awkwardly, looking between all of the men, before the Commander answered the unasked question.
 
 "We need the room, Private March. Thank you for your work today."
 
 Kendrick nodded, smiling through his slight disappointment before saluting the officers and nodding and waving to Henry before leaving. Daniel's face lit up with a smirk after the door had closed again, the officers all chuckling lightly.
 
 "He's a good one," Lionus said brightly, finally dragging over a chair and coming up alongside the bed across from the Commander and Captain.

 "He is, absolutely," Daniel said. "Needs to be less obvious though."

 "Can't blame him for being nosey about the three of us having after-dinner drinks with our Man of Mystery," Lionus laughed, leaning back into the chair. "He knows to keep this on the quiet, at least."

 "Are we all getting drinks or are prisoners exempt?" Henry asked with a lighter air, Daniel openly laughing.

 "No drinks, I'm too exhausted to even think of it," Peter said with a loud exhale, folding forward and resting his elbows on his lap. "The news today, Lemuels, is that the Nobility are expected here as early as tomorrow evening. Should the questioning go well enough for you both, you may be able to see her as early as the following day. Given that we don't know what time they'll arrive at the Governor's house, however, try not to get your hopes up too high about seeing them tomorrow night."

 “Your leg also needs to be fully on the mend before you can go, so take it easy on her.” Lionus said.

 “The sooner it’s over and done with, the better,” Henry grumbled. “How is our vessel?” He asked, the question suddenly dawning on him. “I’ve been hearing them trying to sort the debris all day.”

 “According to the Staff Sergeant, the vessel itself is well-landed on the stones,” Peter replied. “There’s a pile of the… less conspicuous debris tied down on the beach, the rest is being cordoned off here for now until assessment is done with it. We were hoping to get an idea from you as to what any of it may be, but that might be best saved for the Nobility’s interrogation either way.”

 Henry nodded, looking between all three of the officers in turn. “Has any investigation or report been done on the damage to the ship itself?”

 “None, no one is permitted near it and we’ve set up naval patrols to keep any extreme risk-takers away from it,” Peter said. “Given the scale of the thing, we may not be able to give an accurate report on damage done to it for days or weeks depending on how difficult it is for us to reach it.”

 “Good,” Henry said, leaning back with a sigh of relief. “Melanie will need to be the one to do a full assessment of the damage; she knows the model better.”

 Daniel crossed his arms, looking down at his lap. “Lemuels,” he said, quietly. “If the vessel is seaworthy, will she attempt to leave?”

 “Captain,” Peter and Lionus responded in unison, surprised by his question.

 Henry stared at the Captain until the man’s eyes raised to lock with his gaze. “Our only plans were to return me here,” he said gravely. “We knew that should that be achieved, that kind of decision would likely be out of our hands. I will say this clearly to you all; should she feel that her leaving is what people want, she will attempt to accommodate it if she has the freedom to do so.” 

 The officers all looked at him before Lionus and Peter turned back toward Daniel to see how he would respond, but Daniel simply continued to stare at the man in front of him.

 “So, please,” Henry asked, staring back at Daniel. “If you want her to be useful and cooperative, make her feel like that’s what you want.”

 “Thank you, Lemuels, for the clarity,” Peter said across the two men, sensing tension growing. He stood, adjusting his coat but leaving his hat on the table. “I feel as though this is all we’ll be able to discuss that’s worthwhile this evening; Captain and Corporal, you’re both dismissed.”

 Daniel broke his stare away from Henry, standing and placing his hat back on his head with a salute. “Yes, sir,” he said without hesitation, heading for the door and closing it behind him.

 Lionus’ eyes met his Commander’s as he stood and approached him, wordlessly moving his gaze in the trail of the Captain with a curious look. Peter simply shook his head, placing a hand on Lionus’ arm gently. “If you could wait for me in my office, Corporal, I’d like to chat with you in a moment. For now, I’d like a private word with Lemuels.”

 “Yes sir, I’ll see you in there,” Lionus said with a friendly smile, turning toward Henry again. “And I’ll send in the other staff afterwards for you sir, should there be anything you need for the night.”

 Henry smiled with a wave of his unbroken arm. “Thank you very much, Corporal.”

 The door closed after the Doctor, and Henry simply watched the tired, exhausted form of Peter Martellis take a deep breath in the quiet of the room.

 “How is she, Peter?” He asked as softly as he could, his mind still wanting him to shout when it confused size and distance again. “I know you’ll have a more humane answer for me than Daniel.”

 The Commander pulled up a chair directly alongside Henry, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “From my interactions with her, it is as you said; she will attempt to do what it seems people want her to do,” he explained, Henry nodding along as he listened, relaxing. “She wants to be a solution, more than a problem, and--”

 “Oh god,” Henry muttered, turning to look directly at Peter with concern at the sound of those too-familiar words. “Your interactions, have they--”

 “She told me not to tell you,” Peter admitted in interjection, holding up his hands in surrender. “It is my fault, I had drawn her into conversation before she admitted to me you had warned her not to have one of that… depth.”

 “The people of her home put an almost extreme emphasis on more philosophical and emotional perspectives to events,” Henry said with a sigh, his mood crashing, “and she has always talked a lot; I was worried it would be far too much for here. She can be unrestrained; unfiltered, she says, at times, and I can only imagine it causing problems on an official scale.” His blue-green eyes disappeared behind heavy lids. “How many people--”

 “It was only me, Lemuels,” Peter tried to assure him. “We were alone, there had been an… interpersonal incident among the men and they had been sent away.”

 The assurance did anything but comfort him, and Henry’s eyes opened with a groan. “An incident?”

 “An argument, non-violent,” Peter offered.

 “Over her?” Henry leaned further over the bed toward Peter.

 “...With her,” Peter admitted as Henry looked crestfallen, the Commander adjusting his seat with a deep breath. “Herself and Grant got into an argument, the Captain was out of line--”

 “That would be my assumption, yes,” Henry said, his tone becoming impatient and angry. “Was it to do with her or is he still holding his vendetta against me to anyone who so much as knows me?”

 “The Captain,” Peter stressed, locking eyes with Henry seriously, “was out of line. The argument was heated but no one was hurt outside of pride. Captain Grant has been reprimanded, and myself and Melanie had a long discussion, where I was able to hear a lot about her perspective on what she has been going through. It will help me ensure that this kind of incident should not occur again.”

 Henry hesitated, taking a calming breath as he let the color drain slowly from his cheeks. “What was it about?” He asked after a moment.

 “Pardon?” Peter asked, confused.

 “The argument.”

 Peter hesitated, his hands folding in his lap as he looked around the room idly. “She wanted to be of help,” he said with a shrug. “She wasn’t being given adequate opportunity to do so, and the Captain became heated at her insistence that she be put to use.”

 “Do you believe Daniel asked what he did this evening because he wants her gone?” Henry’s voice was low, careful, with sadness in it.

 “I will be completely honest with you,” Peter leveled after a pause. “I do not know what Grant wants; I don’t believe he knows what he wants. He has never adjusted well to changes in plans. You know this, Lemuels.”

 “Henry,” the man corrected the Commander bluntly. “I am not in the Academy, I am not enlisted; I appreciate the reminders of our history but I have been through so much, and changed so much… I am not that man any longer.”

 “Henry, my apologies, thank you for the correction,” Peter offered softly. “But as I said, Daniel struggles and always has struggled with things so much smaller than this. He is firm and solid in what he knows; the unknown is too much for him alone.”

 “You two have always been a good pair, like that,” Henry said, sighing, looking toward the Commander who turned once more to meet his gaze. “I mean that genuinely- I appreciate that you are there for eachother in the ways you need. You help each other in service to one another and to the group, or battalion, or company as a whole. It’s good to see it never changed after I left.”

 “Please help him to not make her do anything rash; I’m so worried about her, Peter,” the battered man’s voice broke and he took a shaking breath. “It is hell being here knowing that she needs help and I’m not there for her. I hate the idea she is as lonely as I was, I hate the idea that she’s facing antagonization and everything else, I just--”

 “Henry, I will do everything in my power to reunite you both as soon as it is possible,” Peter stood, placing a hand on Henry’s unbroken arm gently. “I am taking care of her, as best as I can; I promise you this.” Henry’s eyes closed tightly, and Peter watched a small tear run down part of one cheek before the man brought his arm up to wipe it away quickly, embarrassedly. “When you do get to see her again, you’ll have access to fresh clothes- a uniform, even, if that wouldn’t be so offensive- and hopefully be in the best shape you can be given your circumstances.”

 Henry laughed gently, nodding as took a steadying breath. “I’ll have to think on the uniform, but thank you, Peter; genuinely.”

 “If I can make one request of you, in the meantime?” The Commander asked hesitantly, reaching for his hat.

 “Yes, anything.”

 “Leave Grant to me, as much as you’re able.”

 The Commander and the Man Who Could’ve Been Admiral said their goodnights, Martellis heading to his Office to speak with Corporal Ethridge about things they had never spoken of before, ideally over a stiff drink before he could collapse in his bed.

 He opened the door to see Grant turn to him, a look of wide-eyed surprise on his face, Lionus standing alongside him, them both having been leaning over his desk.

 ‘So much for drinks,’ the Commander thought as he entered and closed the door behind him, Grant swiftly bringing a piece of paper from his desk. Martellis’ eyes landed on the message on the Staff Sergeant’s stationary.

 “They’re here. Arrived less than two hours ago at the Staff Sergeant’s home to rest for the night,” Lionus said quickly, sounding anxious.

 “The Duke will be here at first light,” Grant said, tensely, looking irritable.

 “The sudden urgency is concerning,” Martellis said, moving quickly to sit behind his desk, the two other officers too nervous to follow suit in their own chairs.

 “Something must have been said to them; the Duke is not even waiting until after breakfast call by the looks of this message,” Lionus muttered.

 “Send a messenger to the training grounds--” Martellis began.

 “Done,” Grant said. “I’ve told them to prepare as best as possible, and that we would send further instructions in the morning ideally before the Duke arrives here.” He let out an annoyed breath through his nose. “Damned Thorne… I swear, if our work is ruined by his fat mouth--”

 “Captain,” Peter snapped.

 “No, I’m with the Captain on this one,” Lionus said, crossing his arms. “Thorne’s loose lips have already sunk nearly every ship we’ve had the last few years.”

 “Men,” Martellis sighed, outnumbered by sentiments he too agreed with. “All we can do is trust he has delivered the reports and isn’t divulging anything beyond them that could be harmful to our efforts.”

 “Should we alert the rest of the staff here? Henry?” Lionus asked.

 “Not Henry,” the Commander said firmly. “If he’s caught in any kind of genuine surprise, it’ll help the credibility of his story. What time is it?”

 “Half-past eight,” Grant said, pulling up a seat, motioning for Lionus to do the same. “Hour and a half to Lights Out. I think we can come up with a solid few strategies in that amount of time.”

 Lionus plopped himself into the chair, and the three men set to work writing out possible plans they could send at a moment’s notice to the training grounds the next morning.

Chapter Text

 The word had come down as Melanie was settling for sleep under her tarp, Chase and a young private named Jarvis with him taking watch over her. Miller had rode up on a horse, yelling the news.

 “Nobility’s set to see you tomorrow,” he panted, holding the reins tightly as he walked the horse closer despite its insistence on turning around. “The Duke will be heading to the barracks with the Guard first thing, and then once they’re finished their business there, we’ll be under the gun.”

 “Did any instructions come with the news?” Chase asked, shifting uncomfortably as Melanie leaned over him to join the conversation.

 Edmund shook his head, frowning. “Hollis is guessing they won’t until they have some idea how the Duke is feeling on it all. Strategy for tomorrow is to do as little talking as possible and to not act familiar.”

 “Yes, sir,” Melanie said with a smile, her voice making Chase jump slightly.

 “There ya are,” Miller called up proudly. “I like the sound of that out of you, Miss! Only the youngsters bother to call me sir,” he laughed.

 “Decorum,” Chase said with a sigh.

 “Sorry, Lieutenant,” Melanie offered quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning then, Miller?”

 “For breakfast, first light! Gonna be running on Nobility time, so everything’ll be early but them!” He laughed again, mounting up and running the horse back across the dark field, his lantern swinging wildly.

 She sighed apprehensively, leaning back. “I hope it goes easily for everyone tomorrow,” she said. “And I hope Henry’s going to be alright.”

 “All we can do is hope right now,” Chase called up to her, heading back to his post by the fire, a light breeze rustling the tarp over their heads. “Get some rest, Miss.”

 “Yes, thank you,” she said, sliding herself back to the farther end of her shelter, unzipping her sleeping bag. “Goodnight Chase, ‘night Jarvis.”

 “Goodnight,” they both called back, a little awkwardly.

 ‘It’ll come in time,’ she told herself as she zipped up, pulling her coat over her again. ‘If tomorrow goes well, I’ll get to see Henry again. That’ll help.’

 The trumpets sounded at the first hint of dawn in the air, waking her from a deep sleep. She groaned, the sky still dark with just a hint of light coming from the east.

 “Miller wasn’t lying about the early call,” she said groggily, sitting up. Chase laughed.

 “I’d call Miller many things, but a liar isn’t one of them,” he shouted as he stretched, standing from the small chair by the fire.

 “I’m going to the woods for a few minutes, yell if I’m desperately needed,” she said, getting out of the sleeping bag and heading for her trunk to take a fresh change of clothes and a facecloth to her latrine area. She rummaged around, finding the odd sock with her toothpaste inside, not wanting it to open and ruin her clothes like it had once before on a trip. “Do we have any water left?”

 “Three barrels, Miss!” Jarvis called, his silhouette waving at them. She nodded, apologizing as she walked over and took one, its lid already popped off for her.

 “Back in a moment,” she said, taking her bundle and striking off between the cracked branches and beaten down brush she had managed to pave for herself.

 The air was chilly and damp, and as she went through her morning routine in the brush she shivered. Stripping to change into her clean clothes, she kept bumping into leaves and boughs covered in morning dew, causing her to yelp in surprise more than once.

 Crashing back out of the woods carefully with the face cloth rolled and damp, scrubbing toothpaste around her mouth, she stopped before exiting the treeline and rinsed before spitting it out behind some larger rocks on the path.

 “Everything good, Miss?” Chase called as she entered back into the growing light on the field, heading back to her trunk. 

 “Just cleaning my teeth, sorry,” she said, shoving her dirty items in the corner and closing the lid. “Want to cause as little offense as possible.”

 “Breakfast!” Came a long, almost melodic shout from Miller as they turned to see him galloping proudly toward them. Melanie raised her arm and waved it in large arcs, signaling she had heard him, watching him turn and bolt off back towards the building.

 “Roll up the roof for us if you could, Ma’am,” Chase called from below. “Just to try and be as inconspicuous as we can.”

 “Yes sir,” she said happily, slipping the loops off of the 3 foot high posts at the front of their little area, rolling the tarp back toward the higher ends in the trees. She took some spare rope up from nearby, tying it loosely to keep it all in place, before heading to catch up with Chase and Jarvis. 

 The sun had just come over the treetops and into her eyes as she kept pace with the two men marching below her, about half-way across the field, when distant shouts and a bustling of activity started by the facility.

 “Hold,” Chase shouted up, Melanie coming to a halt as she watched a shape that must be Miller mount and come rapidly toward them, waving erratically with one arm.

 “Nobility!” He screamed, “On approach!”

 The panic in his voice was like lightning in the air, and Chase started to yell back. “We haven’t received orders!”

 “Don’t address me by anything,” Melanie said, low and quiet, her heart and mind racing. “Just bark orders at me. Use as few words as possible.”

 “Miss?” Chase asked, confused, as Melanie swung a leg back quickly, dropping to her knees carefully without moving any further ahead. 

 “Tell Miller we’ll hold here until they arrive, then we’ll follow whatever instructions they give,” she continued, almost a whisper as Miller continued to approach.

 Chase nodded, turning to Jarvis. “Run and catch him, both of you head back to the facility. Whatever Nobility wants, clear-call it back, basic command.”

 Jarvis saluted and took off like a shot, and Melanie watched with growing anxiety as he and Miller met, Jarvis speaking a moment before mounting Miller’s horse with him and both riding off after a large wave.

 Her heart was in her throat; she had been hoping her handler would be Jones this morning when the Duke arrived. He was the one she was most familiar with out of the three the Commander had assigned to her.

 “Relax, Miss,” Chase’s voice came up, startling her out of her desperate stare at the road. She looked to see him move up alongside. “Even if they’re riding fast, we’ve got a few minutes. Breathe, relax your shoulders.”

 “Thank you, Chase,” she whispered.

 “I’m going to draw my rifle, but I won’t arm it. Just for presentation, if you’ll be alright with that.”

 “Yes, please,” she smiled at him. “Thank you for asking.”

 She took deep breaths, rolling her shoulders and relaxing her body as much as possible as Chase swung the rifle around himself, holding it toward the ground. Distantly they could hear more shouts from the road, making for even more scrambling as people ran from the back of the facility to the front and side where their guests would be arriving.

 “Hands behind your back,” Chase called, Melanie folding them behind her and trying to keep her breathing under control. “Do not look at the Duke if he approaches until he addresses you.”

 She nodded, watching as suddenly a group of 6 mounted riders and two carriages appeared at the top of the road, a number of banners flying. In the golden light of dawn, the shade of the trees still across the area, she couldn’t make out much of what was happening, and turned her eyes down to the ground in what she hoped looked like some kind of submission.

 She continued her deep breathing, trying to drown out the cacophony of small shouts and yelling, the indecipherable noises of activity. It was like stage fright. A horn called, long and melodic, different from the ones that marked the start of the day and the calls for meals.

 “Up!” Chase yelled, marching off at a long stride and a fast pace after minutes that felt like hours, and she dropped her arms to help push herself up into the sun again, squinting into the light that was almost down to her waist where she stood. She turned her eyes down, following Chase who had his rifle up against his chest as he marched as fast as he could so she could maintain a decent pace.

 “Hold there!” Jones’ voice reached her faintly from up ahead, Chase yelling “Halt!”

 “Down!” Chase yelled again, and Melanie smoothly moved herself back into the kneeling position of before, her eyes scanning the crowd of people several feet in front of her as she placed her hands behind her back again.

 The entire facility seemed to have emptied, all of the men lined up behind the crew of her familiar lieutenants, and a formation of strangers in dramatic black, white and gold uniforms, standing in two lines that spread out like a V, all of them aiming long white rifles at her.

 A different uniform stepped down the center of the formation with purpose; an elegant long-tailed coat entirely black and gold and decorated with a high, embellished collar, dramatic tassels on the shoulders and double-breasted gold buttons, a colorful block of pins and ribbons across the left breast. A gleaming golden hilt stuck out of an ornate black scabbard along the side, and an equally dramatic, large black hat with gold bordering and a giant white feather that swept with the shape of it’s pointed brim that was lifted elegantly and handed to another, plainly-uniformed soldier as a mess of curly silver-and-red hair caught the breeze, gently waving the strands that weren’t contained in a relaxed tie.

 “I’m a bit disappointed,” a clear, strong voice reached Melanie’s ears as the figure continued to step dominantly toward her, with no hesitation. “The rumors I had initially heard said that you would be one hundred feet tall.”

 Melanie blinked at the statement, herself and Chase seemingly both taken aback. She locked her giant hazel eyes with the sparkling green ones that addressed her and cleared her throat quietly.

 “My apologies, your grace,” she said as quietly as she thought would be polite as the fierce woman continued her approach, all of the women behind her adjusting their rifles as she spoke. “I’m only half.”

 “Announcing Duchess Ais’lyn Lostelle Vogunti, of the Verdandi Province,” a younger, dark-haired woman shouted from beside the Duchess as they came to a stop about two feet in Melanie’s measurements from the kneeling giant. “Lieutenant General of His Royal Majesty’s Eastern Coastal Watch.”

 Chase dropped to a knee, bowing respectfully, and Melanie bent forward slowly as low as she could without tipping too far forward as she tried not to react to the orders being shouted by the armed women.

 “You seem polite,” the Duchess called, “and well-spoken. That should make my job immensely easier.”

 Melanie straightened back up slowly, her heart in her throat as every motion she made caused for even more yelling from the wall of guns just ahead of her. She locked eyes with the Duchess again, trying to read the woman’s expression.

 “State your name,” the woman beside the Duchess shouted loudly in command. Chase turned to her, repeating the order quickly with a sharp “Name”.

 “Melanie Barnes, your grace,” she said softly, her voice trying to catch in her throat.

 “You seem nervous,” the Duchess said after a moment of staring at her. “I had assumed my presence instead of my husband’s would be a more welcoming sight.”

 “It’s the guns, your grace,” Melanie stammered after a moment, turning her eyes down. “I understand the necessity, but I wasn’t expecting so many.”

 The Duchess spoke inaudibly to the woman beside her, who turned and barked a command. “All but First Line, stand down!” The women followed suit in a fluid motion, only the first two keeping their guns up.

"I'll confess to not knowing what to do with your interrogation," The Duchess called loudly again, taking several more steps forward. "Typically it is done in private, indoors. Evidently those are not options."

"Permission to speak, your grace?" Called Chase sharply from beside Melanie, the Duchess turning to address him with a nod and delicate wave. "We have a holding area staged for her at the back, with appropriate heights of platform. I would be happy to return her there for you."

“She seems capable of doing so herself, unless there’s concern I should be made aware of,” her grace replied. Chase hesitated and Melanie’s apprehension continued to grow; the Duchess’ tone was strange, and not at all like anything she, or evidently Chase, had prepared for.

“I’m her assigned Director, your grace,” Chase replied firmly. “For sake of security, I would insist on escorting her. Should you deem it prudent I be removed from the situation after she is in place, I will be happy to comply.”

“I shall permit it,” the Duchess declared, turning to speak in hushed tones to the woman beside her again, who then marched off to speak to the lines of Riflewomen. “You may begin escorting her with my two Marksmen, and I shall follow with the rest once she’s been settled.”

Chase bowed deeply, from a standing position this time, and Melanie repeated the same bow she had done before. “Up!” Chase barked, and she stood again, letting out a long breath once she was at her height again. Her knee was throbbing, the bruising around the gash not appreciating all of the pressure it had been under.

She tried not to stare downward as Chase coordinated with the two armed women, creating a formation of the three of them and then starting to march back. “Turn! Walk!” He shouted clearly in succession, and she followed the orders smoothly, matching pace with her entourage.

She hated the feeling of walking away from almost every familiar face she had here. Goosebumps covered her body at the thought that if she messed this up, there was a chance she would never see any of them again.

 Kneeling again on the field facing the completed north-side scaffolding at an angle, the knees of her pants becoming soil-stained, Melanie folded her hands in her lap as Chase got the two women into position on the second level of scaffolding, their guns still trained on her. Her eyes watched the progression of the Duchess and her entourage of guards as they traveled on foot across the grounds.

 They seemed not to be in any rush even when they did arrive at the location, taking a moment to observe it as several of the women re-lit the campfire at the watchpost, and one bringing a rather ornate wooden chair with padded seat to the third level of scaffolding.

 Chase escorted the Duchess and her assistant up, the assistant bracing some kind of clipboard against one arm, beginning to scribble away with a pencil.

 “You are dismissed, Lieutenant Chase,” the Duchess said, turning to him and saluting. He saluted back, bowing deeply before leaving without a word.

 Silence passed as the Noblewoman sat in the chair, her eye-line almost exactly the same as the giant’s, and Melanie glanced between her and Chase as he marched back across the field.

 “I believe that affords us enough privacy to begin,” the Duchess said, turning her attention fully to the massive woman in front of her with a strange smile. 

Chapter Text

 The trumpets of first light sounded clearly, waking Henry from his sleep. Outside the shuttered window he already heard chatter and motion on the grounds of the barracks. He groaned as he rolled out of the bed, his shoulder stiff from being tied in the sling all night, his body still swollen and bruised.

 As he finished in the private toilet room of the medical wing he took a deep, slow breath, closing his eyes. He had forgotten after being there so long how loud her world had been. Humming, buzzing, whirring-- always something was making noise. At times it had almost driven him out of his mind, but now he missed it. There was something unsettling now, about the quiet.

 A knock came on the door of the ward as he sat back on the edge of the bed. His stomach growled, one thing he had never stopped missing while he had been gone was the food of home. “At your leisure, Kendrick,” Henry called, looking at his arm as he carefully flexed his fingers, moving his elbow carefully to find where the pain of the break still was beneath the cast.

 “Mr. Lemuels,” a smooth voice, the accent of royalty thick in it, addressed him from the doorway. Henry’s eyes moved quickly to the form of a tall, average-built man with dark olive skin and piercing blue eyes, the color of cobalt. Glossy, black hair with strands of silver along its well-combed part. He was in a high-collared black tailcoat with gold buttons and decoration on the shoulders, neck and sleeves.

 “Your grace,” Henry said, standing and bowing stiffly, grunting from the pain.

 “Please, sir,” the smooth voice said as the Duke held a hand toward him. “Do not put yourself in a strenuous position as such. Please, have a seat.”

 Henry nodded, straightening back up and moving back onto the bed.

 “I am Duke William Richard Vogunti, of the Verdandi Province. We had met once before, several years ago, but I do not blame you if you do not recall me,” the man’s delicate smile and proper posture stood in stark juxtaposition to the extremely serious, pointed look of his face. His shocking blue eyes and sweeping dark brows made him look dangerous, focused, almost enraged when taken out of the context of his smile.

 “I recognize you, distantly,” Henry replied politely. “But I’m sorry, you do have me at a disadvantage, your grace. I do not remember you as you seem to remember me.”

 The tall man folded an arm behind his back as he relaxed his stance slightly, chuckling. “It is not such a great disadvantage, if any. While I have memory, in my age it is not as great as it once was.” He took a deep breath through his nose, his face so clean-shaven it looked as if it had never grown hair. “I am here on the business of questioning you, however, so perhaps we can both come to a more equal knowledge of the other in short time.”

 “Of course,” Henry said, letting out a long sigh as he gestured to one of the chairs that had been pulled away from his bedside last night to look less conspicuous. The Duke turned and opened the door briefly, a woman in a much more plain black & gold uniform joining him with clipboard and pencil. The woman had dark-brown hair pulled into a simple, low ponytail, and small reading glasses that sat practically on the tip of her nose. She began scribbling immediately, occasionally taking a quick glance toward the Duke, toward Henry, or around the room in general.

 “Mr. Lemuels,” The Duke began, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it. His straight posture made him seem so tall, even sitting. “Your first name is Henry, correct?” Henry nodded.

 “Yes, your grace, it is. Henry Joshua Lemuels, for my full name,” he said, the gentle smile coming to the Duke’s face again. If he looked closely, he could see where the man’s intimidating face softened, subtly.

 “Thank you. You are a native citizen of the Vogunti Kingdom, yes?”

 “Yes, your grace,” Henry began before the Duke held up a hand in a polite gesture, interrupting him.

 “You do not have to stand on such formality, though I am very appreciative. We have many questions, and much more to do besides,” the man said with a soft chuckle, Henry chuckling in return.

 “Yes, thank you,” Henry said, continuing. “I was born to Daryn and Gladys Lemuels in the province of Tornich. March 16th, 561. My Mother was a seamstress, my father was a livestock farmer for the Nobility until he retired, when he ran a small farmstead for us.”

 The Duke smiled warmly, nodding. There was something about his demeanor that put Henry completely at ease, and was almost comforting. The tall man crossed his legs, leaning forward slightly as he gestured for Henry to continue. “And yourself?”

 “I enjoyed fishing, growing up. I began to work with one of our neighbors when I was young and out of school on his small fishing boat, and then got two small jobs running supplies from home to the capitol.” Henry’s hand reached up to scratch the stubble on his face, his eyes glazing over a moment as he vividly recalled the summer days of his youth, scaling ratlines in the harbor to shout at girls on the wharves and boardwalks. “I moved to the Verdandi province after I finished my schooling and decided to join the Naval Academy here when I was twenty-two, after doing more work on merchant and patrol ships as a deckhand.”

 “But you did not complete your time at the Academy?”

 “No,” he replied, softly, shaking his head. “Myself and several close companions… We discussed options, and one of my friends, Howard Forbes, had convinced us to leave and start our own small company for…” he hesitated, screwing up his face in discomfort at the admission. “Well, to become privateers for his Majesty.”

 A light chuckling escaped the Duke, the woman beside him still standing and scribbling quickly, her expression neutral. “It is a lucrative endeavor, I do not fault you for it nor do I feel any offense, should you be worried.”

 Henry smiled for a second before a thought seemed to flash through his mind. There was something about how at ease he felt with the Duke; something about how comfortable he was telling these stories to someone, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He shook his head slightly, clearing his throat. “Thank you,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. Why was this so familiar? “We took several contracts, thankfully mostly surveys in neutral or contested waters instead of seizures or gun-runs, and made some decent funds through it. The last contract we received was for the Massengale…”

 Duke William listened intently, his eyes sparkling in a way that seemed so strange-- with their deep blue intensity, on his sharp featured face-- and yet so strangely familiar, so comfortingly familiar as Henry told the story of the Massengale, the job they had been set to do, the storm they had hit. He concocted, as vaguely as he could, a story of wrecking on an unfamiliar island, uninhabited, and the remaining crew after Neilson’s loss working to repair the vessel. The Duke, his attention still eager, didn’t pressure him for more details or seem at all suspicious of the lack of information or strangeness of the tale.

 “We launched again, with no bearings on where we were still, and simply headed West in hopes of finding familiar land, or even a current that seemed correct. It rained, constantly, for days until we finally saw some sign of land as the clouds and fog finally broke late one night.”

 Henry paused, his eyes turning to the Duke.

 “We attempted to weigh anchor and find our way to shore, but the anchor snagged on something we thought was a whale; instead, it turned out to be a massive squid. It began tearing our vessel to further shreds, and for hours we fought it. By the time the sun rose, I was the only one remaining, the rest of the men gone. The ship continued to roll to one side, half the deck hitting the water at times, and suddenly Melanie was there; tearing the thing from the portside and righting the ship. I fell unconscious after that.”

 The air in the room seemed to change as the Duke’s expression became somehow more intense; more focused. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and peering into Henry’s eyes. “Melanie,” his voice said softly, a timbre of deep curiosity ringing throughout, “your traveling companion, the one being held at another location.”

 “Yes,” Henry said, nodding as his mouth set firmly. “The giant that rescued me.”

 This was the first moment that the woman in the room seemed to show any kind of emotion. Her face contorted with confusion briefly as she seemed to dart her eyes between Henry and what she had last written. The Duke’s face lit up, an expression that muddled surprise and interest.

 “So it is true, then,” the regal man almost breathed, nodding toward Henry. “When we had heard the rumors on our travels… one hundred feet tall…” he shook his head, letting out a long breath. “I thought he had been mad. Then another rumor, the same, and another… when the Staff Sergeant’s reports said she was fifty feet tall, I still was willing to have the entire lot of them committed.”

 “Forty-five, by my measurements,” Henry corrected quickly. “I doubt any of them have come near enough to her for long enough to do anything proper, but fifty wasn’t a bad guess.”

 The Duke stared, and a long pause hung in the air. Henry began to worry if he was about to get into an argument with the most powerful man outside of the capitol over the course of the next few questions.

 “And she is… human?” The Duke asked, his hands clasping together firmly, as if restraining themselves from fidgeting.

 “Yes,” Henry said firmly in reply. “She is, outside of her size- which is the average in her lands- the same as any other person.”

 The Duke’s eyebrows raised at Henry’s tone and sudden intensity, and he took a moment to inhale slowly, sitting back up straight in the chair and adjusting himself. “Of course,” he said, a strange tone underlying what would otherwise be interpreted as politeness. “Please, tell me about her, if you would be so kind.”

 “She rescued me and recovered my vessel, and the bodies of the rest of the crew. We had lost a significant amount of our remaining cargo, and eventually we deemed the ship to be beyond repair. She lived alone, her family having died in the previous years, and I was welcome to her home as much as I could be, given the difficulty in navigating something of that size.” Henry turned to adjust the pillow behind him as he crossed his legs at the ankles on top of the medical cot.

“The reports said she speaks King’s Speech; how much were you able to teach her?” The Duke asked.

 “She is able to hold lengthy conversation, fluently,” Henry answered, intentionally vaguely. “The way she constructs phrasing, and grammatically, there are differences akin to those of varying dialects here, but communication was luckily not an extreme struggle for us.”

 “How long were you in her homelands before deciding to return here with her?” Henry hesitated, the Duke’s accent of proper nobility made it hard to read intent.

 “It was just longer than one year and eight months time spent together before we were able to begin sailing here,” he offered. Duke William folded his hands together, pressing the interlaced fingers to his lips in thought.

 “You were able to learn much about her, and her homelands, in this time?”

 Henry nodded slowly. “Yes, mostly of herself, but I learned as much as was necessary of her home.”

 “They have laws, education, structure of a kind that is similar to ours, perhaps?”

 “Similar in ways, yes. It follows similar logic to our structures even in areas of great difference. They have a government, police, and there is a monarchy at the head of one of their country’s allies,” he answered with a shrug. “She is educated, having gone through many years of schooling and then working for several years before the deaths of her parents left her their estate and properties.”

 “What was your intention in bringing her back to this country?” The Duke asked, heavily. Henry’s eyes narrowed as he pondered the phrasing of the question.

 “It was not my intention to bring her here, it was her intention to return me home,” he replied slowly.

 “Was that truly her only intention?” The Duke removed his hands from in front of his face, revealing that any softness, however subtle, that had been there previously was gone. With an almost imperceptible change to his expression, he had gone from a comforting person to speak with to one who was now aggressively attentive.

 “Yes,” Henry said firmly. “I have never had any reason to doubt her intentions on this matter.”

 “How high are the numbers of her kind?” Duke William’s voice was clearer, darker; more openly suspicious of Henry, who paused. “It will not do well to withhold information, or to lie to me.”

 “The island she calls home has a population of around five hundred thousand,” Henry replied quietly, submissively. He was now in the interrogation he was expecting.

 “And they have armies, navies? How many others like her knew of your plans to return here? How many know of this place, at all?”

 The woman beside the Duke continued to write furiously, scribbling and scratching. The dark blue eyes of royalty were locked on the shining blue-green eyes of the sailor.

 “They have a military,” the sailor leveled. “Their military has no knowledge of us nor any interest. The only people who know that this land exists only know it through the context of having met me, and knowing I must have come from somewhere. Melanie was the only one with any information regarding that which could be used to navigate to here, and even then the information she had was barely enough to get us here.”

 “Why would she be the only one with that information? Why would she not share it? Who were you, what leverage did you have to have any say in what she did with that information?” The Duke stood and began to pace slowly, an arm folded behind his back as his eyes moved between his own hand and Henry.

 “She did not trust anyone else with the information, and she was the only person I trusted to give it to.”

 “How many of them did you come to know?”

 “Including Melanie? Four. All trusted friends of Melanie’s, and she still did not give them any information regarding our travel or destination.”

 “So if I am to understand, clearly,” The Duke began, walking toward the window with its closed shutters and examining his own faint reflection in the glass. “You met a forty-five foot giant, convinced it to return with you to your homeland, and neither of you had any intention beyond simply… traveling here?”

 Henry’s silence filled the room as he watched the back of the man at the window.

 “I hope you are able to understand my concern with how unbelievable that story is. Beyond giants, beyond fantastical details… You have a 45 foot tall human being you can communicate clearly with, and who has enough education and comprehension to sail a massive vessel to our shores. You having no ambitions of… utilization, shall we put it so delicately, is something I am at an obligation to disbelieve.”

 His eyes flashed in the glass from inspecting himself to looking at the transparent reflection of Henry, his blue eyes burning. “I can not be in the position I am in, with the responsibilities I have over this land and her people, and also take your word so easily. So,” he said, turning sharply. “What would you, perhaps, suggest I do instead?”

 Henry stared at him a moment before turning his eyes downwards, sliding himself off of the bed to stand as straight as he could, holding his unbroken arm behind him properly. The Duke approached in long strides, coming to stand directly in front of him, standing to his full height over half a foot taller than Henry himself.

 “Speak with her. Talk to her, as a person. Learn even a fraction of what I learned,” Henry said plainly, softly; a hint of pleading desperately trying to cling to the words that escaped his mouth. “She is not a threat; she is an artist, a kind soul, someone who wishes to do nothing but help and heal and save. If anyone,” he stressed, his eyes flicking up and down the entire man who stood before him in emphasis before continuing, “would have ambitions to weaponize her, to use her destructively, or to leverage her as a show of force, all they would find is disappointment.”

 “If you would like a suggestion, a real suggestion from myself, then I will tell you this. Set your mind instead to finding ways to utilize her for what she is drawn toward; let her help with rescue operations. Let her help build infrastructure.” His voice was growing tired. He knew this would be a problem; so did she. He felt, crushingly, like no matter what he said here and no matter if the Duke seemed to listen, that anytime eyes would land on the reality of her, their minds would go to one thing and one thing only: Fear, and how to utilize it. “That is my suggestion, your grace.”

 The Duke stared down at Henry with his intense eyes, a tense silence between them. Suddenly, his expression flickered with a faint smile that barely lifted the corners of his lips.

 “Then I shall speak with her.”

Chapter Text

 Melanie’s hands were sitting in her lap as she answered question after question, her eyes trying to avoid looking at the Duchess or any of the other women until she was specifically told or asked to. The thumb of one hand was scratching nervously at the palm of her other hand as Duchess Aislyn’s strong voice continued to interrogate her.

 They had covered who she was, the name of her country, how she came to meet Henry and how the two of them had come to travel back to the Vogunti Kingdom. She was doing the best she could to answer quickly, briefly, with the details needed and without embellishment or excessive talking. Her nerves were getting slightly worse as they continued, as the Duchess’ tone was seeming to get increasingly disappointed with her answers, and her questions were becoming increasingly strange, almost leading; something that was confusing Melanie thoroughly.

     “If you had not been hit by the storm, was your plan to simply return Henry Lemuels home, and then leave?” The Duchess asked, her tone was nearly playful in its curiosity.

    “We did not have any set plan for after he returned home, your grace. We understood that any way we arrived would cause some amount of incident,” Melanie responded factually.

    “And you believed you would cause an incident, why…?” The Duchess drawled curiously. There was no mistaking it, there was something almost teasing in her tone. Melanie turned to her directly and raised her eyebrows, looking at the Duchess’ sly smile.

    “I think my haircut stands out too much,” Melanie replied lightly, smiling in response.

    “There we go,” the Duchess said, sounding relieved. “I was worried these men had you completely scared witless.” She stood, letting out a loud breath as the large woman blinked. “My husband can do the boring interrogation when he finally gets here. Now,” she drawled again, leaning over the railing, “you’ve evidently been wounded, has this cut been treated?”

    “Yes, your grace,” Melanie said, letting out an extremely tense sigh of her own. “The medics have seen to my head wound, and the one on my leg twice now, and they treated some cuts on my back yesterday. They’re healing well, but with significant bruising.”

    “Is your awkwardness in speech a result of unfamiliarity or head trauma?” The Duchess asked, looking her over with an enthusiasm that caused her a bit of concern.

    “Uhm,” she started, unsure if she should be offended. “Dialect problems, mostly. Henry and I thought it would be better if I spoke as close to what’s considered proper here. I didn’t realize it was that… awkward.”

    “I imagine with the way the men have been barking at you, you haven’t had much opportunity for conversation, you poor thing,” the Duchess sighed. “In honesty when the rumor reached us that you were a woman, I made sure to hasten our travel here. It’s been several years now since my Watch became nearly devoid of sensible, female members. Please, dear, make yourself more comfortable and relax a bit, I promise I won't bite.”

 Melanie chuckled, nodding toward the woman and smiling as she carefully used her hands on the ground to adjust herself into an actual sitting position, bringing her knees up in front of her loosely to give them some relief. The Duchess’ assistant gave an order for the two riflewomen below them to lower their guns, which they did. “Thank you, your grace.”

 “Ma’am will be fine enough for now, dear, we don’t actually have all day to talk and that level of formality happens to be something I’m rather sick of after the previous few weeks,” the Duchess began. “I would like to know, as best as you are able to tell me, how your experience has been here since you arrived.”

 The giantess took a deep inhale, trying to relax herself now that much of the tension she had been carrying for nearly an hour had left, though anxiety still remained as to what the Duchess was actually looking for from their interaction. “Being a victim of shipwreck, I worry I wasn’t very well presented when I first encountered the men of the Coastal Watch,” she began softly. “I was hurt, filthy, and terrified-- I had woken up alone and I had no idea where Henry was, if he was even still alive. The Commander was extremely understanding, given the situation; he and the rest of the men who had responded had every right to simply open fire on me.”

 “Himself and the Captain came to me directly and allowed me to ask them for help in searching for Henry. They set up the men and began the operations while I remained with the Commander until he was finally found.”

 “An incredible relief for you at the time, I am sure,” Duchess Ais’lyn interjected warmly.

 “Yes, ma’am,” Melanie sighed, turning her eyes downward and across the grounds to the facility. “I haven’t seen him since the medics took him from the beach.”

 “Was he very hurt?” The Duchess asked.

 “A broken arm, and I think possibly a broken leg as well. The men were obviously too nervous of me at the time to let me be close while they treated him, and they sedated him before they traveled, so I had very little opportunity to speak with him.”

 “It must’ve been a struggle to get your wounds seen to, then.”

 “Actually,” Melanie said, her eyes opening wide as she turned back to look at the Duchess, who had moved to sit in her chair again. “Corporal Lionus had little, if any, reservations about treating me and did so rather insistently. The medic corps in general deserve to be rewarded highly for the work they did, under the strain they had to experience throughout. Lionus and Kendrick did an amazing job with the wounds they tended to, and I would trust the medic corps with my life over and over again simply from their display of skill and devotion.”

 Duchess Ais’lyn turned her head, a mixed expression of shock and joy across her features. “I was not expecting such an answer, honestly-- not that the medic corps aren’t worthy of such praise, just that we rarely hear acknowledgement of any of our corps efforts as such.”

 “I mean it with all of my heart, ma’am. The medics, the Commander, several of the men who have been brave enough to take charge of me, have performed their duties incredibly and have still treated me with a level of respect that I don’t believe anyone- especially not myself- would have blamed them for denying me,” Melanie said, turning more to be alongside the scaffolding instead of facing it so she could stretch her sore and tired legs. “All of the men who have had to deal with me and everything I’ve brought upon them deserve medals for it, or something to that effect if I had the ability to give it. Something like me washes up on a beach and I haven’t been shot once; it’s practically a miracle.”

 The Duchess laughed brightly, Melanie smiling as she rolled her shoulders in a small stretch. “I’ll need to speak with you later about this in more detail. I am very glad to hear this, my dear.”

 “I’m glad you are, honestly ma’am,” Melanie said, her voice dropping into a whisper briefly. “I was concerned that my treatment by most of the men here would somehow be seen to have been too soft or too lax; that the Nobility would’ve wanted me in chains and harmed more than healed.”

 “Some nobility perhaps would have. I will admit you strike a mind as quite intimidating at first glance,” Duchess Ais’lyn said. “Myself and my husband both have experience in handling foreigners, trespassers, and prisoners of war. The first two you qualify for, the third you most certainly do not. I’d like to believe we would both have kept level heads.”

 “It’s as much a relief as it is an honor then that I’m able to meet you, you grace,” Melanie said, with a careful flourish of a hand. The Duchess laughed.

 “That was well practiced; I suspect I’ll have to offer some credit to your friend Henry when I’m afforded the opportunity to meet him.”

 Melanie chuckled, nodding. “Yes, ma’am. He taught me a number of proper behaviors to prepare me for our adventure, like the Knight’s Pledge. I was battered and panicked at the time. I'm positive it was a horrible recitation, but the Commander and Captain never gave me any critique.”

 “You gave the Knight’s Pledge?” The Duchess asked, suddenly standing.

 “Yes,” Melanie replied, her anxiety spiking again at the movement and the tone shift. “On the beach. I recited it to try and ease tensions enough that I could secure their help in finding Henry.”

 The Duchess approached the railing of the scaffolding again, leaning over it so far in eagerness that Melanie was worried she would fall. “Did you only recite the pledge to have Henry rescued? Or were you planning to follow through with it?”

 “Well, I said it to have Henry rescued, yes, but I was told what the Pledge meant; I knew what I was possibly volunteering for,” Melanie explained, softly, almost shivering at the memory. “For rescuing Henry alone I would owe the men of the Watch significantly anyway. With or without the Pledge, if they could find a way to find me useful, to allow me to pay them back in some way, I would do it. I would do it happily.”

 “So you would be willing to enlist with His Majesty’s forces?” The Duchess pried, an unmistakable grin on her face.

 “I would enlist with the Coastal Watch,” Melanie corrected, gently, watching the Duchess to try and read her expression carefully. “It was these men who rescued myself, and Henry, and these men who have taken care of me. I owe them too much to go anywhere else, if I have any choice in the matter.”

 The Duchess nodded, standing back up from the railing as she stroked her chin in consideration. “Well, my Watch is in desperate need of women, and myself and my husband haven’t spent nearly enough time in the Noble estate nearby. If that’s your decision, should it be officially approved, then you shall join the Watch and my personal guards will join with you.”

 “Ma’am,” Melanie offered, sadly, suddenly feeling awkward. “Please… don’t force anyone into a position they wouldn’t want to be in. This is an unprecedented series of… everything, honestly, and I understand that I’m a lot. If your guards do not wish to have that kind of experience, please… I will be fine without, I promise.”

 “It will be by volunteer, then,” the Duchess conceded, with a gentle smile. “I will warn you, however, my guards were handpicked by myself, from troops across all branches of the military and especially from my once-precious Watch. If you feel as though fear would stop them, you may be surprised.”

 The giant woman smiled warmly, her eyes dropping to her lap. “I look forward to meeting and getting to know any who would volunteer, then.”

 “Oh, my good-- I am entirely sorry, my dear,” the Duchess stammered, a hand frustratedly pushing her wild red-and-grey hair back from her face as she apologized and started scanning the area. “Introductions, all around!”

 Her assistant was the first to step forward with a deep bow and a small smile; a young-looking woman with black hair in a simple braid, her uniform bearing similar color and structure to the Duchess’, but much more plain and lacking in decoration. “Theresa Jarvis, First Assistant to the Duchess of Verdandi, at your service.”

 One of the marksmen below waved up to Melanie to get her attention as soon as she was done greeting Theresa. The two women were beaming from ear to ear, their rifles laid with their butts on the ground. “First Lieutenant Francine Wright,” a broad-shouldered woman with auburn hair and green eyes said before gesturing to the taller woman beside her. “Second Lieutenant Cassandra Greibes,” she greeted the giant woman, her dark eyes shining, her skin a dark olive color and hair a glossy black.

 Melanie laughed as Francine and Cassandra nearly tried to race each other to stick their hands out past the scaffolding frame for the giant to shake gently with a finger. “Thank you, wonderful to meet you,” she said, turning as the other eight women introduced themselves in turn. Some more formal and reserved, some as eager as the marksmen had been, all of them seeming friendly and welcoming.

 “Call me Ais’lyn, my dear,” the Duchess finished the round of introductions herself, holding out her hand delicately for Melanie to carefully take between her finger and thumb as the giant woman blushed deeply. “Duchess or General in front of the other officers and the like, but for when we’re speaking like this, Ais’lyn is preferred.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” Melanie said, her body sagging with the amount of relief she felt. “Thank you, Ais’lyn.”

 “Please tell me about the things you have and the things you require or would like improved, now, while we still have some time,” the Duchess said. “Are your needs being met? I assume that the thing you have tied to the trees is meant to be some form of cover for this area; is this where you’ve been sleeping?”

 “Yes, it is, and it’s been more than adequate given my size and the surprise of my arrival,” Melanie said, gesturing between the tree and the poles. “The tarp stretches to cover this entire area, which is more than enough for myself, my items, and my guards. For other needs, I suppose the most basic one is that I have a piece of debris from my shipwreck that acts as a trowel near where I relieve myself in the woods. They’ve given me the liberty to do that on my own, thankfully.”

 “While I personally doubt I’ll ever willingly use a latrine again,” the Duchess stated, sounding disappointed, “I will say that a toilet for your size would be out of the question on at least this immediate need.”

 Melanie waved dismissively. “I’ve some experience with camping, and again; this was one of the general inevitabilities myself and Henry had discussed as logistically as we could before traveling. Food, I’m doing very well on thankfully. Second Lieutenant Fuller has been fantastic with my meal portions, and they’re delicious.”

 Her stomach growled at the mere thought of food, and the giant’s face burned red-hot as she wrapped her arms around her midriff, the Duchess and several of the other women laughing loudly. “Yes, I did forget we interrupted breakfast to get as much time with you as possible, that’s entirely my fault-- Lieutenant Wright, you’re the best runner in the troop still. If you could head back to the facility and ensure there’s something for us waiting, and then perhaps see if any of the horses will be able to bring you back here, that would be fabulous. Coordinate with the men if need be.”

 The Duchess turned to the giant woman suddenly. “Actually… which men should she coordinate with to make sure you’re receiving the best care?”

 “Don’t tell anyone I said their names,” Melanie asked, quietly, “I don’t want them to worry that I may have gotten them in trouble, but… Lieutenant Miller has been extremely good to me, Jones as well. They would likely be the best to speak with overall, as Jones was set to be my next shift for Guard duty. Fuller is the cook, he should have a good idea of how much I need.”

 Francine Wright had made it to the ground swiftly while she was talking and turned to await a signal from the Duchess, who simply waved. Wright took off quickly, massively long strides making her pace seem practically effortless. “Oh! I don’t need any extra water!” Melanie added, her voice raising slightly to make sure it reached Wright, who waved twice in acknowledgement.

 “Thank you, so so much, ma’am,” Melanie breathed in relief.

 “I’m glad I could give you some relief before my husband comes to interrogate you in his own way,” Ais’lyn said, waving dismissively as Melanie turned with a concerned look. “Don’t pay him any mind; it will be mostly boring questions and he’ll likely get stuck on specific, tiny details. I promise, as hard as he may seem, he’s nothing to fear.”

 “Probably don’t tell him how well you’ve been treated by the men though, at least at first. I’d like to know what his initial reaction to you will be. I’ll let you know when it might be appropriate,” she added. “Also, don’t share with many of the men too quickly how casually we’ve been treating you, either. While I’m not active-duty anymore, a reputation as Lieutenant General is still important to upkeep.”

 “Of course, ma’am, I understand,” Melanie said, smiling happily. “If it would be alright, would I be able to ask a little about yourself? I’d love to know about your time with the Watch.” The Duchess folded her arms on top of the railing, leaning on them as she shook her head.

 “There will be time for that in the future, I’ll make sure of it. For now though, we truly are racing the clock, so to speak. Evidently, you will need more walls at some point, and soon; while we have a number of weeks of summer left yet, when fall comes it will come very fast,” Ais’lyn said, glancing over the area in front of her.

 “I have a tent which would suffice at least before winter were to hit; it would be temporary, but if it survived the wreck then it would be a good way to bridge the gap until something more permanent could be provided somehow,” Melanie offered. “The main concern there is that it would require me going to inspect the ship itself, if it hadn’t washed up in the wreckage.”

 Ais’lyn nodded. “That will come in time. The reports were that many items of yours that were salvaged from the bay have been transported to the main barracks, so you shall be granted permission to see through that yourself in the coming days once we get the approvals straightened away. Have you been able to bathe?”

 “Yes, thankfully. We used the pond about a half hour up the road, and I have my own soaps with me. It was cold, we went very shortly after breakfast and the Corporal said it feeds from mountain runoff, but I was able to clean myself.”

 “Excellent,” Ais’lyn breathed with relief. “My first goal will be to have the women escort you from now on for privacy reasons. We can also arrange to do it later in the day when the water will be either less frigid, or more welcome. There are also warmer ponds and pools, so depending on if you get moved to the barracks or otherwise, we could relocate that entire endeavor easily.”

 “Duchess Ais’lyn, if I may,” Melanie interjected quietly, after a moment.

 “Yes, dear?” The Duchess replied curiously, looking at her.

 “You’re going well out of your way to accommodate me beyond any reasonable expectation, and I’m very appreciative of it, but I would like to ask a question that may seem… offensive, and you’re free not to answer at all if you aren’t inclined to.”

 “Speak freely, please,” Ais’lyn insisted, a sly smile across her face as Melanie turned her head to look her over again.

 “What selfish reasons are there that compel you to do this?” The giant woman asked carefully after a brief hesitation. “I don’t believe there is a complete lack of altruism involved, but there is something to be gained here and I would like a bit of honesty as to what it is you’re working toward.”

 The Duchess flashed a lopsided grin as she stood back up, coming to her full height and returning to an incredibly straight posture. “I have ensured that every King’s Guard member that should be enlisted to directly serve myself and my husband is the absolute best at what they do, and that they will work as a cohesive unit at whatever task is required of them. Both things, in tandem. Tell me, it has not gone beyond your notice what that has created?”

 “An entirely female company,” Melanie said, tilting her head as the Duchess nodded, still smiling oddly.

 “So yes, there is a very selfish reason why, upon hearing that there was a gigantic woman who had washed up on our shore, I decided to ensure she was made to feel welcome and that her service would be welcome in these lands. My lands,” she paused, staring intently into the massive, hazel orbs in front of her with her sharp green ones. “With that out in the open, knowing now that I do have intent to put you to use here, to have you become an asset within my arsenal as all of these other ladies are, how do you feel?”

 Melanie took a deep breath, considering a moment. “Significantly better, your grace,” she said after thinking about it. “I want to be useful; I want to help make up for any issue I’ve already caused and be worth my cost. I don’t want to only be something that people are always trying to work around or puzzle out.” She turned to look at the facility again, seeing three riders and an extra horse galloping toward them across the grounds. “If you can help make sure I repay the kindness of the Watch and can give me the opportunity to be a boon here, then I will accept any kindness and request from you within reason.”

 She turned back to see the Duchess had leaned forward on the railing again, a wild grin across her features as a breeze took her untamed hair about her again.

 “You’re even better than I had imagined,” Ais’lyn said happily. “I will make sure that you feel your worth; I promise you.”

Chapter Text

 Commander Martellis kept his horse at an easy pace beside the Duke, the sun breaking through the trees overhead as they entered the logging road toward the training grounds. They were flanked on the sides and to the front by the women of the Noble Guard, flying their banners of the Verdandi provincial colors, the Flame and Thorns emblem of the Duke shining in the light.

 Captain Grant and Corporal Ethridge rode behind the two of them, Grant maintaining a surprisingly neutral expression given that Martellis felt he’d be able to boil the ocean with his rage still. The Duke had ordered upon his arrival that no member of the Watch, nor of the Guard, were to leave without his express permission, and so no instructions could be sent to the Training Grounds.

 Not that it would’ve done much good, by the Commander’s guess, as the Duke also insisted on interrogating Henry without any member of the Watch present. A risk they had accounted for, but he felt apprehension regarding their arrival to the grounds now all the same.

 “She is confined to her own area of the grounds?” The Duke asked smoothly, his regal demeanor disguising his bluntness.

 “She has her own area, but has at times been required to move from it for maneuvering purposes, construction and so on. When we left the grounds yesterday, her area had been completed enough that, save for an emergency, she should be confined there again, your grace,” Martellis explained clearly, keeping his tone as positive and confident as he could. It was well past breakfast now, so Melanie should’ve finished eating if they had taken her to the doors of the mess hall again, and would hopefully be back in her area given the early warning that the Nobility would be arriving today.

 “She complies well with those orders when they’re made?” The Duke asked, gazing around the road idly, not looking toward the Commander.

 “She’s been extremely cooperative with our orders when we’ve had to give them, yes,” he replied. The Duke made an affirmative hum as they continued on.

 “Will the Duchess, Lieutenant General Ais’lyn, be making time to oversee the efforts, your grace?” Corporal Ethridge asked from behind.

 “I felt that since she has been off of active duty from the Watch for so many years, it would not be necessary for her to join me in the interrogations and inspections today,” Duke William replied, turning to look at Lionus directly. “We had traveled much, so I gave her my grace to rest at the Staff Sergeant’s home with his wife for the day.”

 “Very kind of you, your grace,” the Corporal responded with a smile and a respectful dip of his head.

 “Actually, Corporal, while we are speaking-- is the giant similarly damaged to the extent of Mr. Lemuels?” The Duke asked, turning his attention back to the front and slightly correcting his horse.

 “Not to the same degree of severity, your grace,” Lionus said, his eyebrows lifting as he tried to shoot a sidelong glance toward the Captain, who was trying to hide his rage by seemingly counting every tree in the forest on the opposite side of him. Lionus frowned, left with no sign on whether to talk more or less. “No broken bones, but she had several deep cuts and gashes on her, namely her head and leg. She can move fine enough but I imagine the leg can’t withstand a lot of strain if we were to try and ask her to test it.”

 “She has had her wounds treated?” The Duke asked, again not looking toward Lionus. The Captain turned suddenly, as if only now actually listening to the conversation, but Lionus didn’t wait for any kind of wordless signal from the man.

 “Of course, your grace. Topically, obviously. Luckily there was no apparent need for stitches or anything more involved, but as she was blatantly wounded I was able to give proper first aid,” the Corporal said clearly, confidently. The Duke hummed thoughtfully.

 “So you have been in direct contact with her?”

 “Very hard to do a medic’s job otherwise, your grace,” Lionus said, his smile in his tone. He could feel the Captain’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

 “Very true!” The Duke said, chuckling lightly. “You found she was similar to treating any other person of our lands, then?”

 “Not any difference beyond size from what treatments I was able to give, your grace,” Lionus confirmed. 

 “I see, thank you, Corporal,” the Duke concluded, signaling the end of their conversation.

 Lionus turned his head only far enough to see the Captain clearly out of the corner of his eye, Grant tipping his head up faintly; an approval. Lionus returned the gesture, and they both went back to looking at the road as they turned the corner toward the blockade at the bottom of the road to the training grounds.

 Martellis’ eyes went painfully wide for a moment, the Commander’s grip tightening around the reins of his horse in concern. The banners of the Nobility were flying at the blockade, two women in the Black, White and Gold of the Noble Guard standing with two men in the Forest Green, Beige and White of the Watch.

 “Why,” Duke William’s dark, heavy voice carried clearly to all ears in their vicinity over the sound of the calls being shouted from the lookouts of their approach, “is my wife here?”

A horn sounded, the same that had blared when Melanie was first being approached by the Duchess. The conversation between herself and the Duchess came to an abrupt halt as the women around them snapped to attention and quickly began to get in formation on the ground, Ais’lyn standing with a long sigh.

 “Well, that would be my husband,” she said, almost disappointedly. “We’re out of time. I should go and soothe his anger a little, I suppose, before he comes to speak with you.”

 Melanie turned away from trying to discern what was happening at the other end of the field and looked toward the Duchess with a tilt of her head. “His anger, ma’am?”

 “Oh, yes, he’ll be livid that I’m not where he left me,” she said plainly, brushing her pants with her hands and adjusting the tail of her coat. She turned away from Melanie’s perplexed and impressed expression toward Edmund Miller, who was just coming up the scaffolding ramp, and gestured vaguely toward the horses that were being held by one of the Noble Guard nearby. “Lieutenant, are all of these horses well accustomed to this situation?”

 “Yes, ma’am, your grace,” he said, turning to look at the horses and then back toward her as she moved to walk past him. “Our four best from the training stables, have your pick, please!”

 She smiled at him, and they both snapped to respectful salutes. “Excellent, thank you, Lieutenant. Please remain with Miss Melanie and Lieutenant Jones while I delay my husband a bit longer,” she explained, heading toward the ground in long, graceful strides that still carried a powerful, decisive air. She gestured vaguely toward the Lieutenants, her remaining Guard, and her assistant as she stood next to her chosen horse, calling clearly. “Go back to that ‘short-orders’ routine from earlier-- he’ll like that. The ladies will let you know when it’s not necessary any further!”

 Melanie smiled with a nod, “I’ll kneel as well, then.”

 “Good girl,” the Duchess exclaimed happily, fixing her fantastically feathered hat back onto her head and mounting in a fluid motion of someone who had done it thousands of times as she and three of her members, including her two Marksmen, galloped off toward the facility.

 “That explains the dawn-call with no warning,” Jones said, saluting the women of the Guard as he made his way toward the level of scaffolding with Miller.

 “I thought it was strange they wouldn’t be together,” Miller said, shaking his head and staring a moment longer before turning toward Melanie almost aggressively, slamming his hands on the bars of the scaffolding. “Are you doing ok, Ma’am?!” He shouted, concerned.

 She laughed, smiling and waving dismissively at him. “Yes, I promise,” she said. “Still not out of the fire yet, though.”

 “So long as you’re alright,” Miller said, relieved. “Can’t have my second in command under this much stress constantly.”

 She chuckled, Jones shaking his head as the Noble Guardswomen shared confused glances.

 “Sorry about breakfast, Ma’am,” Jones said. “It’s being held for you, Fuller says he’ll warm it up whenever you’re done. Extra helpings for the delay and the stress.”

 Melanie’s stomach growled again as she sighed. “Thank you, and bless him. Is Chase ok?”

 “He’s more worried about you, Ma’am,” Miller responded bluntly. “Real stick in the mud he was yesterday, now he’s right fretful about you. Might even ask to be in the Brigade next.”

 “Quit it with that, Miller, the Guard is here,” Jones scolded, hitting him on the arm.

 “Sorry, ma’ams,” Miller said, turning to the women and saluting. The ladies, for their part, seemed casually disinterested, but Theresa nodded stiffly in acknowledgement before saluting in return.

 “He definitely seemed to have warmed up a bit from last night,” Melanie said quietly, her eyes staring across the field and trying to decipher any of the movement by the facility building.

 “Apparently you talk in your sleep,” Jones said, shrugging. “Seems to have had something to do with it.”

 Her face contorted like someone had grabbed it and twisted as she looked back toward Jones, offended. “What?”

 Jones just shrugged again, shaking his head, Miller looking equally confused as he offered a shrug of his own. Melanie whined softly, looking back to the facility. “That’s horrifyingly embarrassing,” she muttered. “I talk more than enough when I’m awake.”

 “I can ask him about it when--” Miller started to offer.

 “No, nope-- please don’t,” Melanie said quickly, her eyes going wide but not turning her head to look at them, her cheeks red. “I don’t need to know how I’m being talked about when I’m not around like that.”

 Miller and Jones chuckled, and Melanie could hear a bit of faint laughing from the women around as well as Miller apologized.

 “Looks like they’re mounting up,” one of the Noble Guards called to them. “Positions if you have them.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” Melanie and the two men said sharply, Melanie carefully shifting her legs back underneath her with a small grunt and flinch as she dragged her bad knee across the ground, and Miller running to the ground to stand in wait with the other women. Jones stayed at the face-level tier of scaffolding.

 Then came the breathless waiting, once again.

 Martellis stood at the appropriate 3-step distance behind the Duke, Lionus and Grant on either side of him. The three of them simply watched as the regal man resonated frustration out of his very body, staring at the formation of four horses riding toward them from across the grounds, Melanie’s gigantic form in the distance behind them.

 The lead rider pulled up hard on her reins, dismounting with such practice and grace it seemed as if her and the horse were sharing thoughts. All of the uniformed men and women snapped into salutes fluidly as she approached, the white feather of her hat billowing delicately in the breeze. 

 “Attention,” she called sharply, the saluting hands snapping down to the sides of those standing nearby.

 “At ease,” her husband called almost immediately after. A faint smile tipped up one corner of the Duchess’ mouth as she and her three personal guards came to a halt in front of the Duke. The members of the Noble Guard quickly entered into the at ease stance, but to her pride and delight, every member of the Watch remained at attention.

 “Good morning, Dearest,” Ais’lyn said warmly, spreading a warm smile and approaching her husband, extending her hand properly toward him.

 “My love,” William returned in his smooth, heavily-affected noble accent, his face stony and neutral as he took her hand in his, raising it to his lips to kiss the knuckles of gloved fingers. “I was not expecting you to be making the journey here today,” he continued delicately but with an unmistakable hint of darkness in his tone.

 Ais’lyn relaxed her stance into a proper, military at-ease, her arms folded behind her back. The men of the Watch followed suit wordlessly and her eyes sparkled as she continued to look at her husband. “As I still maintain my rank, and knowing you would be as busy as you are with the current situation with the other ranking officers of my Watch, I felt it prudent to come and ease burdens.”

 “How thoughtful,” Duke William said, turning as Ais’lyn began walking past him toward the Commander, Captain and Corporal. “Why did you not join us at the barracks?”

 “I did not wish for my late arrival to interrupt you, my dear,” she explained, almost flippantly, herself and Commander Martellis saluting each other in synchronicity. “Good morning to you, Commander. I trust you’ve been well?”

 “As well as I can be, as always, General,” he replied politely, moving back into the at-ease position respectfully.

 “Excellent to hear,” the Lieutenant General said with a warm smile, turning back to the Duke who was standing, proper and still, his expression still neutral. “I’ve left eight of our Guard at her location for you. Is there anything you would like for me to help with while you’re conducting your business, Dearest?”

 “That will not be necessary, my love,” the Duke responded, his eyes not leaving her. “Please, continue as you were.”
 
 “Thank you, Dearest,” Ais’lyn said, turning to her personal guards and nodding, the three women forming up on her quickly.

 “Commander, if you would kindly escort myself to the staging area,” Duke William said, turning to the horses that were being held by his own Noble Guard after they had dismounted earlier.

 “Of course, your grace, happily,” Martellis said, turning to his men and nodding, and bowing deeply toward Ais’lyn before departing toward his horse. “I would recommend utilizing one of the horses from our stable, your grace,” he suggested politely. “We’ve taken some care to desensitize them to her after the initial struggles we had on the beach.”

 “Thank you, Commander,” the Duke replied, turning to him and inclining his head respectfully. They mounted, his assistant and one of his own Noble Guard accompanying them, as they took the horses at a canter across the field.

 “You,” Ais’lyn’s voice suddenly snapped the attention of the men and Noble Guard around them back to her as she addressed one of the remaining officers, “must be the Medic Corporal?”

 “Aye, your grace, I am,” Lionus said, bowing deeply. “Medic Corporal Lionus Ethridge, at your service. Is there anything I can attend you with?”

 “I’ll need to speak with you later, absolutely,” she said with a smile, turning toward the Captain. “It’s lovely to see you again, Captain Grant. Have you been well?”

 “As well as could be expected,” Grant replied, his expression as flat as his tone. “Yourself, General?”

 “Much better than I had hoped, given the situation at hand,” she said with a tip of her head. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, should you have any active duties at hand, myself and my guards unfortunately skipped breakfast, and would like to attend the mess hall.”

 Another round of saluting came and went quickly, before Ais’lyn and her three guards walked into the mess hall together, two of the remaining Noble Guard posting immediately outside of the doors and the rest following the Duchess and her entourage inside. Grant and Lionus watched them, and after ensuring they were out of sight, turned to the men immediately and began speaking in hushed tones.

 “Chase, what happened?” Lionus asked, waving him over to himself and the Captain.

 “They arrived just after the first breakfast call, we were about halfway across the field when the call of approach came up. Took us completely by surprise,” Chase said, taking his hat off with the two Officers as the Captain waved for the men holding the remaining horses to follow them to the stables.

 “She knelt and I sent Jarvis up to the facility to pass on word. We decided on doing simple command calls to her, have her not speak unless spoken to,” he continued as they took a wide berth of the facility with the horses, Lionus and Grant nodding along, Lionus looking relieved.

 “How did her interrogation go?” Grant asked sharply, glancing over his shoulder to see if any of the Noble Guard were following them or listening from the windows.

 “Unsure,” Chase replied, “she insisted on privacy and that I leave after they had been set up at her sleeping area. It was only the Duchess, her Noble Guard, and Melanie.” Lionus’ face fell.

 “Fuck,” Grant spat, uncharacteristically. “So no one is over there with her?”

 “One of the Guard came back not too long before your approach was called and took Miller and Jones and an extra horse to the area, but no idea why,” the Lieutenant admitted. “She had just asked for whoever was supposed to be on shift with Melanie at the moment, so Jones piped up and Miller, well--”

 “Volunteered,” Lionus and Grant finished, Grant sounding more than slightly annoyed.

 “Yes, sirs,” Chase confirmed.

 “Miller had gotten the instructions to only make simple commands, yes?” Lionus asked, hopefully.

 “It’s Miller,” Grant sighed. “He absolutely got the orders, and he’ll follow them, I’m sure,” he said. “In his own special way.”

 They helped the men settle the horses back into the stable as they chatted a bit more, coming out the grounds-side of the building and staring across the field together, apprehensively.

Chapter Text

 “Announcing,” the small assistant called, her voice clear and loud, “Duke William Richard Vogunti, of the Verdandi Province, first cousin to His Majesty, The King.”

 The Noble Guard all quickly came to a salute, holding it as Jones and Miller knelt and bowed deeply before the Duke, Melanie bending forward slowly at the waist from her knees, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.

 He was positively striking. His dark olive skin seemed to even make the gold of his well decorated uniform stand out more. He was adorned with notably fewer medals, pins and badges than his wife, the Duchess, but the elaborate embroidery of the cuffs, shoulders, neck and seams was far more grand. He stood straight, proper, and looked possibly a full half-inch taller than Martellis standing next to him. He may even be a full eight inches, she thought.

 Melanie struggled to keep her eyes on the ground. The shocking, deep blue eyes of the Duke were an impossibly beautiful color, and she could scarcely believe someone’s eyes could be that bright while that small, and that far away. 

 The sounds of his footsteps on the gangway of the scaffolding a minute later announced his arrival to the area where the Duchess had had her chair set up. Her heart was in her throat again, unsure what to make of Ais’lyn’s comments earlier about his demeanor.

 “Melanie,” Martellis’ commanding voice was soothing to her, despite its stern tone. “Address the Duke, please.”

 Melanie nodded, placing her hands on the ground and carefully turning herself, trying not to react to the feeling of her battered knee dragging on the rough terrain again. Her gaze met the stoic face of the Duke, her eyes having to lift slightly to meet his as he stood.

 “It’s an honour to meet you, your grace,” she said, bowing her head respectfully with a fist over her heart. “My name is Melanie Barnes, at your service.”

 Martellis’ neutral expression did nothing to hide how tense he seemed next to the Duke, his thousand-yard stare looking just past Melanie’s right shoulder. The Duke’s assistant, a small woman with dark brown hair in a ponytail, was scribbling furiously in a book behind him.

 “Impressive, I must admit,” the Duke said quietly. Melanie simply stared, unsure if he was addressing her directly or merely commenting on her response to Martellis. “Have these wounds been treated?” He asked after a strange pause.

 “Yes, the--” Commander Martellis began to respond.

 “I would like her to answer, please, Commander,” the Duke cut him off deftly with a small hand gesture.

 “They have, your grace,” Melanie answered swiftly, saving the Commander the possible degradation of having to repeat the Duke’s request to her.

 The Duke’s eyebrows raised at her response just briefly, before he regained his composure. Rocking back on his feet slightly, he turned his attention to the chair behind him and then back to her. “I would assume that you have spoken with my wife, the Duchess, already?”

 “I answered several of her questions, yes, your grace” she replied.

 The Duke considered her a moment in the strange quiet, causing her anxiety to start climbing again. The tall man seemed to ponder the chair a moment further before allowing himself to sit down, brushing his pant legs briefly before speaking again.

 “Your traveling companion informed me that you are able to hold a conversation,” he said, his accent and manner of speech making it very difficult to read his tone clearly. “So I believe I would like to converse.”

 Melanie nodded, and then simply stared as she waited, trying not to let her face show her eagerness to ask about Henry, and when she would see him again. Martellis’ eyes flicked briefly to her own eyes, his posture seeming to tense further.

 “...Well?” The Duke asked after a moment, the flash of a smug smile across his features as he glanced between Melanie and the Commander.

 “My apologies, your grace, the manners of my homeland are that the person who holds the grandest title at the table, so to speak, is the one to choose the topic,” Melanie replied, not breaking eye contact with the Duke, her expression neutral. “Given your distinction, it would be your privilege to direct the discussion as you see fit.”

 A gentle smile crossed the Commander’s face briefly before his eyes moved back to the distant stare over her shoulder, though his tension did anything but ease. The Duke’s eyebrows nearly became part of his hairline as he adjusted himself subtly.

 “I believe my apologies are owed, should that be necessary, as it is similar here,” he said, his deep blue eyes piercing her hazel orbs. “Perhaps in the moment I had forgotten myself.”

 He crossed his legs politely at the ankles, folding his hands in his lap. “As you have mentioned it though, I would like the topic to be your homeland.”

 She nodded, respectfully. “As you wish, your grace. Should there be any specific details you wish to learn about?”

 He hummed, thoughtfully, considering her a moment. “I should like it very much if you spoke in your natural dialect, as ours appears to be remarkably more difficult for you.”

 Melanie felt the color come to her cheeks; until today she really thought she had been doing pretty good with talking. She took a deep breath, smiling her way through the embarrassment of the comment. “I’m sorry if I caused any offense, if that’s the case,” she said, a bit more naturally. “I would like to defend myself by saying that I do happen to be extremely nervous, which affects my talking quite a bit, your grace.”

 “There is no need to stand on such formality, please,” he said, gesturing to her with an open palm. “You are welcome to speak more freely, and we won’t focus on such ceremony. What would make you so nervous?”

 Martellis’ eyes didn’t move to her, but his tension mirrored her own discomfort at the situation. Similar as it was to the conversation she had had with the Duchess just a short time ago, the Duke’s tone and body language seemed unsettlingly different. She hesitated a moment, deciding how to answer what was likely a trap.

 “I’m a foreigner,” she stated, quietly, locking eyes with him, “and a trespasser on your lands. Nervousness seems- to me, at the very least- like a very natural reaction to being spoken to by your grace in this position.”

 “Well said,” he offered, after a few seconds of thought. “You are indeed both of those things. My apologies once more for not considering those as factors to your discomfort.”

 She nodded politely, not saying anything further as she waited for him to continue the discussion.

 “As for your homeland,” he began again, his eyes dropping to his hands in his lap while he spoke, “please, describe it to me.”

 “Rugged,” she stated, immediately, startling both him and the Commander. “Beautiful. The cities and the towns are nestled among hills and bogs and barely-tamed growth. The coastlines are torn and jagged almost the entire way around the island, and on the eastern side where I live we have an abundance of pines and spruce trees, gnarled and tilted, beaten by the wind off the sea.”

 Her eyes drifted across the training grounds, seeing into some unmeasurable distance. Somewhere below her focus she could barely make out the blurry forms of Miller and Jones looking up at her from their positions at the bottom of the scaffolding. “The beaches I grew up visiting and exploring are made of fist-sized stones, rolled smooth by the waves, with cliffs and boulders all around. A visitor once asked me if there was anything that could be called ‘flat’ there, and I honestly don’t know if there is. Hills and bumps, it’s a rock carved by glaciers that sits in the ocean being battered by the tides. The western side of the island has mountains that are the mantle of the earth, pushed through the crust millions of years ago, and they’re a sight to behold all to themselves.”

 Turning back to the Duke with a faint smile, she shrugged. “The weather can be utterly atrocious, but when the sun shines and the wind doesn’t knock you down… I never thought I’d ever leave her for long.”

 A pause hung in the air as her tension seemed to vanish with the memories, before she addressed the Duke again. “Do you wish to hear more, or is that sufficient, your grace?”

 His deep blue eyes felt like they were drilling into her as he continued to stare at her, consider her, ponder her. He stood, slowly, approaching the scaffolding rail and looking down at her.

 “Melanie,” he began, equally as slowly as his deliberate, graceful movements. “What was your purpose in traveling here?”

 “To return Henry to his home,” she said, softly.

 “Had you been successful, and maintained the use of your vessel, would you have simply left?” He asked, his hands landing on the rail and gripping it tightly as she watched.

 “I was never going to be at liberty to make that decision, your grace” she said quietly, bluntly, with a shrug. “I knew that, Henry knew that. I don’t get to just appear and then leave; we didn’t pretend that me being able to return home immediately or even within a few months would be so much as an option given the situation at hand. We knew that should we make it here, I would be at the mercy of the Royalty, the Nobility, the Courts and the Military.”

 Martellis’ eyes were on hers now, unwaveringly, his tension seemingly at an apex as the Duke stood in front of her, his mouth set firmly.

 “Why would you risk coming here, if that was going to be the inevitability?” The tall, blue-eyed man asked carefully. “Why go through that effort just to bring him home?”

 She tilted her head just barely to the side as she considered the Duke, a very faint smile twitching the corners of her lips. “Because if he loved this place as much as I love my battered rock of a home, then I knew that every day away from here was probably agony for him.”

 Duke William released the rail, standing back up to his full, proper height and rolling his shoulders back as he stared down at her. “And you care for him that much?”

 “I do, your grace” she said, firmly.

 “He owes you much,” the man said in a tone that she couldn’t place.

 “And I owe the Watch much, for finding him and treating him after our wreck,” she replied.

 “You feel you have a debt to the Watch?” The Duke asked, his tone again strange and not easy to pin down in terms of intent.

 “I know I have a debt to the Watch, a debt I would wish to repay with service,” she said, clearly, looking the Duke over to try and catch any subtle tells in his body language. “But that, again, is not in my liberty to decide, your grace. I would assume you hold the authority over whether my Knight’s Pledge would be accepted.”

 “...I would,” he replied, almost suspectingly as his eyes glanced toward the Commander. “It is a discussion I would need to have with the officers of the Watch, at length.”

 “I understand, your grace,” she said with a respectful nod. “Do you have any further questions for me, in the meantime?”

 The words had barely escaped her mouth when her stomach roared hungrily, her arms delicately wrapping around it as she tried to maintain a respectable level of eye-contact with the Duke, her face becoming very hot, very fast.

 Commander Martellis coughed his way through laughter, several more sparse laughs choking their way out of the other men and women nearby sporadically. The Duke’s eyebrows had practically disappeared into his hair as he considered her, before coughing out a quiet laugh himself, his eyes turning up to the trees as he attempted to hide a smile.

 “Further questioning can wait, in my opinion, for at least another hour while I tend to other matters while here on the grounds,” he stated, turning to the Commander. “I believe I read in the reports that there were some items that required my attention.”

 “Yes, your grace, if you would be so kind,” Commander Martellis said, bowing and gesturing in a sweeping motion for the Duke and the assistant to precede him down the gangway ramps to the ground. Once they were focused on their walk, the Commander turned to Melanie openly and smiled, heaving a silent, relieved breath with a nod. Melanie winked quickly, moving to turn herself carefully again to face where the Duke would be mounting his horse once more.

 “If I may, your grace,” Jones said abruptly as the Duke approached, bowing deeply toward him.

 “You have my permission to speak,” the Duke replied, looking at him curiously.

 “I am Second Lieutenant Gregory Jones, I’m Melanie’s assigned warden for the next several hours,” Jones said clearly, his voice almost perfectly adapting a noble accent for a moment. “If you would permit it, myself and her other guard, Second Lieutenant Edmund Miller, would like to take two of the horses with you back to the facility to gather some food for her to return here with, as quickly as possible.”

 The Duke inclined his head, inspecting Jones a moment longer before nodding. “Granted, you may go now,” he said, gesturing to the horses in wait. Jones and Miller both bowed again to the Duke, saluting the Commander before quickly mounting and galloping off. The Duke turned to Melanie, who bowed deeply with her fist over her heart from her kneeling position. “I look forward to speaking more with you later, Miss Melanie.”

 “Thank you, your grace, I would be most honored to do this again,” she said with a faint smile.

 She watched as Duke William instructed the remaining troops to form footranks and begin marching behind them as himself and the Commander mounted, Martellis raising the familiar ‘hold’ sign to her again, and she mimicked it back with her hand at her side. They rode off at a gentle trot, the women marching behind, and she waited until they were nearly at the half-way mark before letting herself sit down on the ground, letting out an extremely tense breath with a long whine.

 Ais’lyn turned her attention politely away from the women she was speaking with and toward the window as yelling came from the grounds.

 “Cart! Ready a cart!” Miller was shouting on his approach, literally leaping from his horse as some of the younger trainees ran forward. He bolted to the window as Jones shouted irritably from behind him, throwing his upper half through it so fast his feet came off of the ground to try and balance him. “Fuller!” He bellowed, looking toward the kitchen of the mess hall before looking up to see the table of women staring at him, Jones’ scolding catching up to him.

 “Lieutenant,” Ais’lyn greeted, hiding a smile behind politely folded hands, her elbows on the table.

 “Ma’am, General,” Edmund corrected himself, his head too empty to turn his face red. “My sincerest apologies,” he offered, Jones hitting him across the back as the other Lieutenant walked around him to the doors and entered in search of Fuller.

 Jones saluted the General and then bowed deeply, before simply turning to head into the kitchen, shooting Miller a look as the broad-chested man continued leaning through the open window with a shell-shocked look on his face.

 “I would assume this may mean that my husband has finished his initial discussions, then?” Ais’lyn filled the awkward silence as her attending Guards either ignored Miller and continued eating, or looked him over with unamused expressions.

 “Aye ma’am, General, ma’am,” Miller said, finally collecting himself enough to stand back up properly, dusting his jacket off. “They should be on their way back here shortly, ma’am, your grace, we’re just-- myself and the other Lieutenant, we’re in charge of getting her fed, as you know, ma’am, General, and--”

 Fuller came out of the kitchen carrying two full buckets of steaming food, walking past the window. “Stop talking, Miller,” he muttered loud enough for the room to hear, Jones behind him with a crate of something in his arms.

 Grant, Lionus, Chase and two others came bustling through the front doors of the mess-hall, glancing around to see what the racket was about. Captain Grant’s eyes landed on Miller through the window as the Lieutenant snapped to attention and gave a hasty goodbye before turning to help Jones and Fuller stock the cart that was being hitched up for them.

 “Is the Lieutenant’s lack of decorum in need of being addressed, General?” Captain Grant asked flatly as he saluted her, approaching the table swiftly.

 “No, Captain, not at the moment. Thank you for your initiative, however,” Ais’lyn replied, picking up her mug of coffee and drinking deeply, her eyes on the Corporal. “My husband is on his return trip now, is there an office we may use for more delicate discussions, Captain?”

 “Yes, General, please follow me,” he responded, gesturing politely toward the stairs in the entrance hall. She stood, nodding to her guards and walking out with Captain Grant.

 Her voice was quiet, almost secretive as they climbed the stairs to the Commander’s office on the top floor, catching him off guard. “This must be an exhausting week for you, Captain Grant.”

 “It’s my job to be prepared to handle exhausting weeks, General,” he replied bluntly after trying to puzzle out her intention. “I imagine this was not what you were expecting to return to after a foray into the Capital.”

 “Oh no, this is much more interesting than what I had been expecting,” she offered, flashing a lopsided grin at him as he turned around only enough to get a look at her face.
 
 There was something about her tone, about her expression, that made him bristle. Daniel Grant got the distinct impression that this issue wasn’t being taken seriously, and his nerves being as dragged out and worn as they were after two days of this couldn’t take it.

 “I’ll head back down to direct your husband and the Commander here to join you when they arrive,” he said, as politely as he could through a tense jaw after seeing the General Duchess inside the office.

 “I would like for you, and Corporal Ethridge, to join us as well when they arrive,” the Duchess’ voice was stern, beyond the point of argument, but with a strange tone of sweetness that seemed disingenuous to the Captain. He turned, nodding to her, and she flashed a smile that somehow knew too much as he closed the door.

 Arriving back into the mess hall and making eye contact with Lionus immediately, the two men nodded at each other and took long strides toward the doors to the grounds.

 “We’re to join the Commander and Duke with the General upstairs when they finally get here,” Grant said quietly, warningly.

 “I never got a chance to speak with Miller or Jones,” Lionus whispered back, pretending to fix the cuffs of his sleeves. “They were in a rush, unsure what that means for any kind of timeframe we may be looking at.”

 “When does Jones come off of shift with her?” The Captain asked, trying to scramble for anyway to get them back with the upper hand in the situation.

 “Not until near lunch call, I think,” Lionus sighed. “Eight hour rotation, and Chase went overtime because of the surprise visit.”

 “Shit,” Daniel muttered under his breath, thankful that Lionus didn’t try to scold him for doing so while they were in full dress. “I don’t like this.”

 “Neither do I,” Lionus agreed as they watched the procession of the Duke, Commander, and Guard making its way across the closer half of the field. “The Guard aren’t speaking of it, not openly anyway… we’re blind.”

 The Captain fretted, fidgeting irritably before muttering under his breath again. “You know her better, what could she have said?”

 Lionus’ eyebrows shot up and he couldn’t help but to whip his head to stare at the Captain beside him. “We’ve both only known her for two days,” he said, surprised. “Only thing I’d assume to know better than you about her is her cuts and scrapes. I have no idea what she could’ve said, mostly because I don’t know what either of the Duchy would’ve asked.”

 “You’ve at least spoken to her,” Daniel corrected him.

 “You haven’t?” Lionus asked him quietly, pretending to look idly around the area and assess the activity of the soldiers around them.

 “You know what I mean, Ethridge,” he replied, annoyed.

 Lionus shrugged. “I didn’t mean it as a barb,” he offered, sounding delicate and apologetic. “I wasn’t around for whatever happened yesterday, I only heard the chatter afterwards. I didn’t know if it had been something in-depth or no, that’s all.”

 Daniel grunted in acknowledgement, whether unwilling to reply or unable to due to the closeness of the Duke and his entourage, Lionus didn’t know.

 Walking from the stables toward the other Officers alongside the Duke and his assistant, Martellis locked eyes with Lionus and Daniel in turn, trying to subtly express some form of relief in the hopes it would help them relax a bit more than it looked like they were. It seemed to have no effect on the two men as all of them entered the third-floor office with the Duke, the Duchess leaning against the desk and looking out the large windows across the grounds.

 As the door closed behind everyone, a silence that seemed to suck all of the air out of the room filled the space as they found their positions around the office, no one sitting down.

 “Well, Dearest?”

 The voice of the Duchess sent an electric charge through their close quarters, threatening to start a fire.

 “I don’t appreciate the sensation of being toyed with,” the Duke responded in an even, clear voice. “Your position with the Watch--”

 “Is still very much established and Royally granted,” the Duchess finished his statement for him, “the rank was merely made inactive due to the adoption of new duties upon our marriage; my role here is still, however, intact.”

 The Duke turned his cold blue stare to the fiery green of his wife, a pregnant pause causing Lionus to fidget in his personal little corner of the room. “Be that as it may, there is a more appropriate place for that discussion, and it is not here.”

 “Then please, my dearest,” Ais’lyn replied with a faint smile and a sweeping gesture of her arm. “I am interested in your feelings on the situation at hand.”

 “I was neither informed by the Staff Sergeant nor his reports as to the fluent nature of her speech, is one of my concerns first and foremost,” the Duke said, turning to address the Commander and Captain who stood beside each other near one of the book cases.

 “The Staff Sergeant was unable to have any conversation with her given time and situational circumstances yesterday, your grace,” the Captain replied clearly, his hands folded behind his back, his loosely-tied blonde hair draped over one shoulder. His icy, light-blue eyes met with the cobalt-blue eyes of the Duke as he continued. “He was unable to verify the claims of her ability to communicate, and thus it did not get put into the report to avoid misleading you in a more troublesome direction.”

 “The Staff Sergeant did mention that the horses by that point had been under-socialized in this instance,” Ais’lyn chimed in, nodding toward the Captain over the shoulder of her husband as she moved to lean against the front of the desk, facing them.

 “Why was there no extra effort placed into verifying the claims?” The Duke asked sharply, obviously miffed.

 “We were informed not to expect you until possibly after dinner-call this evening, given your travels from the Capital, your grace,” the Commander offered politely as an answer. “We were hoping to verify the reports further today so you could have the best possible information before arriving. Thankfully, we were not required to wait any longer for you to have as direct an experience as possible.”

 The Duke took a sharp inhale through his nose, a faint frown flashing on his face a moment as he considered the Commander’s response. “That is an acceptable excuse,” he conceded tersely. “We pushed for a faster arrival without sending proper announcement.”

 “How did your interview go?” Ais’lyn prompted him, her desire to know what her husband and Melanie had spoken about extremely obvious to everyone in the room.

 “It had to be cut short so that the giant could be brought a meal,” Duke William replied, turning to look at her. “I presume her feeding schedule was interrupted this morning by your surprise visit?”

 “Yes, naturally,” Ais’lyn said with a sweet smile, her eyes sparkling. “What questions do you have remaining to ask her?”

 “That remains to be seen. I’ve been told, once again not in any reports, that she has already performed the Knight’s Pledge?”

 Lionus felt the growing tensions between all parties in the room was going to start choking him if they got any worse. Between the Duke and Duchess having a not-so-secret quarrel over the events of the day so far, the tensions between the Duke and the Commander, and the Captain’s tension with damn near everything today, the Corporal felt he was in a room strung across from every angle with razor wire.

 “She has,” Commander Martellis stated with a respectful bow of his head. “She had proper posture and used a knife in the appropriate manner.”

 “You feel it was adequate?” The Duke asked with a strange, dangerous undertone.

 “I do, your grace.”

 “And you both?” The Duke wheeled to Captain Grant and Corporal Ethridge in turn, his voice sharp.

 “I was not present when it was given, you grace, I am sorry,” Lionus offered politely, the Duke’s eyes shooting back to the Captain.

 “It was more than adequate, your grace,” the Captain stated, again locking eyes with the tall, black-haired man. “Given the duress she was under, I would personally say it was noble, in its own right.”

 Martellis went nearly rigid as the Duke stared down Grant. Daniel was playing an extremely dangerous game given their respective positions and the power the Duchy held over their entire branch.

 “She informed me she did it to enlist your help in finding her companion,” Duchess Ais’lyn interjected before Duke William could open his mouth to speak again, and her husband spun around to shoot her an offended look. Her eyes never left the Captain’s. “It’s romantic, isn’t it?”

 That smile again, the one that knew too much, was plastered all over her face as the flames of her green eyes flickered and burned against his icy stare. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed; the Captain bristled at her words and her implacable tone.

 “I do not look to embellish the actions of a scared and wounded woman,” the Captain retorted, flat and blunt. Ais’lyn’s expression became legitimately surprised, as if she had been expecting a completely different reaction from the Captain.

 “You mistake my earnestness for mockery, I do sincerely apologize,” she offered, her tone and expression softening. “Her motivations sound to have been commendable and respectable thus far.”

 “Yes, pray tell, what have you learned of her motivations, my love?” Duke William snapped, releasing Captain Grant from his suspicions as Ais’lyn broke her gaze with him to turn toward her husband instead.

 “She cares deeply for her companion and wished for him to be safely found and returned home,” Ais’lyn said, her voice calm, soothing in the tinderbox of the tense room. “She wishes to repay the debt she owes to the Watch and seems, to me at the very least, to be extremely apologetic about the hassle she has caused.”

 “Apologetic is not a word I would use for it, from my limited conversation with her,” William said, turning to stare out the window and watch her across the grounds, furrowing his brow. “She seemed to be well aware of the situation she would cause upon arrival, and came anyway.”

 “She did something she felt needed to be done and was prepared to accept the consequences for it,” Ais’lyn’s voice suggested. “Again, I would say there is a hint of romance within those notions.”

 The Duke almost fidgeted under her words this time, humming thoughtfully.

 “Melanie has expressed multiple times now that she wishes to help in our efforts as reparations for any trouble she has caused,” Commander Martellis said into the slowly-calming silence. “She has also been understanding up to this point as to why that could not be allowed without further instruction from yourselves or other officials that may have been sent.”

 “Ah yes,” the Duke said, his stature and tone more relaxed now as he turned away from the window, moving to face the room once more. “The true meat of the issue. What should we do with the literal Giant on our property?”

 Ais’lyn reached into the inner breast pocket of her coat, withdrawing a folded page of her assistant’s notes, opening it casually. “She’ll be in need of proper lodgings before we can discuss her use. There’s no sense in trying to plan missions involving her if we have to worry that a bad night of rain will make her too ill to work.”

 “I suppose there’s been discussion to that effect with her?” The Duke’s annoyance was present, but less heated now.

 “She’s informed me she has a tent among her belongings but is, at this time, unaware of if it would have been salvaged or would perhaps still be with her vessel,” Ais’lyn replied casually, her eyes still on the paper. “I’ll arrange with the Watch over the coming days to have her taken to inspect her things as we are able to allow such travel, and I can set for measurements to be made so that we can begin the process of hiring engineers and builders.”

 “We’ll discuss her lodgings after the Watch is able to properly assess where they will need to go, my love, you’re getting ahead of yourself,” the Duke said, nodding toward the Commander. “In the meantime, what efforts has she offered to help with, and where can we put her to use immediately?”

 “The clean-up at the beach was the most pressing concern at the time, of course, your grace,” Martellis said, his shoulders aching from the sheer amount of stress he had been carrying all day. “She’s also offered to help transport construction materials where needed, or to be a physical support for construction efforts. Those would likely be the easiest to have her help with in the immediate time frame, as having her travel would be… noticeable.”

 The Duke hummed thoughtfully, stroking at his chin idly as he began to pace. “It would be an easy way to get a proper look at her strength and capabilities. Have her injuries been much of a hindrance to her?”

 “The leg, yes,” Lionus said clearly and firmly. “I’m also not sure she can do much lifting above her head with damage we had noticed on her back, your grace, but we haven’t had her attempt it yet. She may need another few days of recovery.”

 “She can still be kept busy with whatever would count as ‘light’ duties for her,” Captain Grant offered, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bookshelf with a tired sigh. “Start slow, see what she can and can’t do.”

 “I’ll arrange to have the officers of the King’s Guard and the proper authorities of the King’s courts to meet with us for detailed discussions in two weeks at the barracks,” Duke William declared. “That should be enough time to have her prepared and for us to have some placement done with her.”

 “That sounds lovely, Dearest,” Ais’lyn said encouragingly. “It may be a good idea for us to go speak with her again shortly, and discuss duties and placement with her directly, perhaps.”

 “Yes, together sounds like it would save me a number of headaches,” the Duke leveled, rubbing at his forehead briefly. “In the meantime, I will need to see to the effects of hers that have been confiscated so I can measure the accuracy of the reports we were given.”

 “I can show you--” Commander Martellis began with a deep bow, before the Duke interrupted him.

 “Not immediately, I have to see to myself for a moment, and would like to take a brief breather in the mess hall with the rest of the Guard. Please, stay up here and see if you can talk some amount of sense into my wife in my absence.”

 Ais’lyn smiled sweetly, tilting her head to the side as if playing innocent. “Thank you, Dearest, I love you unendingly,” she said with a hint of teasing.

 “You’re my moon and my stars,” the Duke replied, sounding unamused and tired as he wandered out the door and to the stairs on his own, Grant immediately leaning over and closing the door quietly after his exit.

 An exhaustive breath seemed to erupt from everyone but the Duchess, who simply spread a lopsided smile while folding her hands in her lap casually, leaning back on the desk.

 “You men should be commended for your handling of the situation,” she said after letting the room decompress for a moment.

 “We did what the Watch does, General,” Commander Martellis said with a salute, Ais’lyn returning it rather laxly as her eyes sized him up.

 “You’re acting entirely too humble, Peter,” she said, finally taking off her large hat and fixing a few stray strands of her hair. She waved with the back of her hand to the other men, signaling them to follow suit. “Even under my direction the Watch would not have been known to treat a situation remotely like this with the amount of care that you all obviously have.”

 She gestured with an open palm toward the Captain, locking eyes with him as her expression softened. “I sincerely apologize again for the upset I caused you earlier; I did not factor in that leaving you all in the dark regarding my intent to visit and speak with her would have seemed threatening.”

 Captain Grant set his mouth firmly, his eyes glancing to another area of the room as he bit his tongue. Martellis jumped in, sensing the Captain’s discomfort and wanting to prevent a potentially troublesome outburst.

 “I appreciate your approval of our handling of it. It was obviously a point of stress for the members of the Watch involved in this situation as we waited for yourself and the Duke’s input,” Martellis offered, tucking his hat under one arm as he ran a hand through his hair.

 “Oh I can absolutely understand that,” Ais’lyn said with a laugh. “I was going to tear all of you apart before she told me that nonsense this morning was just an act.”

 The three men blinked, all of them sharing looks with each other before staring at the Duchess openly. Ais’lyn turned her head curiously, her brow knitting with confusion.

 “The part where they barked orders at her like a dog did not sit well with me,” she clarified, bluntly. “That’s not to say that you were wrong to do it, my husband would’ve fallen for it obviously, but yes it did ruffle my feathers quite a bit.”

 “I’m glad she cleared that up, then,” Lionus said with a laugh.

 “She spoke very highly of all of you, though she also told me not to mention that she said that, was worried it would get you and your men in trouble,” Ais’lyn replied with a smirk, shaking her head. “She is fascinating. Again, I’m very pleased to hear how well she’s been treated.”

 Daniel’s eyes dropped to the floor as he rolled his shoulders, feeling tense and uncomfortable. Peter shot him a sympathetic look he couldn’t see, and was about to reach out and nudge him when Ais’lyn clapped her hands, getting all of their attention before jumping into her next topic of discussion.

 “So when do we get to bring Henry here for her?”

Chapter Text

 “Are they on the way back yet?” Melanie asked as she came crashing out of the woods again.

 “No movement, ma’am!” Miller shouted, sounding happy as he walked toward her. “Take a breather, up against one of your trees if you need to.”

 “Could I just lie down and pretend to die for a while?” She whined, holding her stomach. “Waiting that long to eat breakfast disagreed with me.”

 “I think it was the stress more than the wait that disagreed with you, ma’am,” Miller laughed, turning to look out across the field again. “What do you think, Jones?”

 “Yes, she’ll be good for a few minutes at least. If they’re going to bring the whole parade again, it’ll take them ages to get back here.” Jones was sitting on the cushioned chair up at the top of the scaffolding, keeping a lookout through a spyglass for them.

 “Thank yoooou,” she sighed, almost melodically. She dropped onto her good knee, which was aching badly from so much kneeling all the same, and stretched out carefully alongside the scaffolding, the top of her head toward the facility.

 Melanie’s eyes closed as she lay on her back, fidgeting her damaged leg to try and find a position where it hurt less. She felt her pant leg sticking and dragging across the knee, she had probably broken the scab open at some point. The morning sun was shooting golden rays still as it climbed closer and closer to the lunch call, the heat of the day just starting to begin. She wished she liked wearing watches; only knowing the time vaguely was becoming bothersome.

 “How are you feeling, ma’am?” Miller’s voice was practically in her ear, surprising her as her eyes snapped open again.

 “Less anxious now that the interrogating has stopped, at least for a little while,” she whispered quietly, trying to keep her voice to a more comfortable level for the men still. She turned her head slightly to see him standing just past her shoulder with his hands in his pockets. “You honestly aren’t bothered by this?” She asked after a moment of considering him.

 He shrugged, bearing the same foolish grin he was wearing the first time she met him. “Bravest man in the troops, ma’am,” he said proudly.

 She smirked at him, her eyebrows raised. “I was told once that it only counts as bravery if you actually feel scared first, and I’ll be honest with you-- I don’t think that applies to you.”

 Edmund laughed, opening his arms wide as he cocked his head. “I suppose that’s fair. That would probably make Jones the bravest one in this situation.”

 “I do apologize for my reluctance at first, ma’am,” Jones called down from his watchpost, biting into one of the buns leftover from her abundance of breakfast.

 “What?” Melanie rolled back over onto her back, furrowing her brow. “Jones,” she said, calling his attention to her as he put the spyglass down. “Don’t apologize. I’m fifty feet tall, honey; reluctance is the normal reaction.”

 He nodded, his head tipping to the side thoughtfully as he finished chewing the bread. “I suppose you’re right,” he conceded. “Been spending too much time with Miller, my perception of normal is a bit off, I would say.”

 “I’d like to go on the record as resenting all of these remarks, and will be filing a complaint directly with the Duchy,” Edmund stated dramatically, the three of them laughing. Melanie rolled onto her side, carefully maneuvering herself so she could put her arm under her head as she turned to Miller with a concerned smile.

 “Speaking of the Duchy…” she began, hesitantly. “Is it really that awkward when I talk?”

 Edmund crossed his arms across his broad chest, flashing a lopsided smile. “I don’t think so, ma’am. I think you were just nervous with the Duke, is all. Don’t put too much mind to it, Nobility’re real sticklers for the proper grammar and the like.”

 “Thank you, Edmund, you’re a sweetheart,” she said softly, the concern not leaving her face all the same. “It wasn’t just the Duke though, the Duchess asked if I had brain damage.”

 An incredible sound of spitting and coughing came from up on the scaffolding as Jones and Miller both burst into laughter, Jones having a mouth full of coffee out of his canister at the time.

 “I don’t think it’s particularly that funny,” Melanie offered, frowning at Edmund after leaning up suddenly to check on Jones.

 “No ma’am--” Jones spluttered between laughs and getting the coffee out of his lungs. “The Duchess just… she can cut pretty severely with that tongue. Was known for it when she was still active as General.”

 Miller was clutching his sides, not as quick to recover as Jones. “Oh my lord, ma’am…” he wheezed. “That is absolutely brutal, I’m-- I’m sorry for laughing.”

 “See, this isn’t helping my concern that I sound awful when I speak,” Melanie groaned, lying back down on her arm and closing her eyes as she grimaced at the thought.

 “You really aren’t that bad, ma’am, I promise,” Jones said, standing up to try and wipe the sprayed coffee up from the area. “You’re a bit stiff when trying to be formal, that’s all. You sound fine if you're talking when you're a bit more relaxed.”

 She sighed, nodding as her eyes opened again, Miller finally starting to chuckle himself out as he wiped tears from off of his cheeks. She gave him a skeptical look as he tried to breathe himself back to stability.

 “Oh, I’m using that sometime,” he said, mostly to himself, chuckling again at the thought. He sighed, happily, grinning at her again. “I like the way you talk, ma’am, don’t mind the stuck-ups.”

 “Hard not to mind them when they can order to have me dealt with by firing squad,” she replied, sighing as her eyes turned up toward the facility. 

 “They wouldn’t, ma’am,” Miller said firmly, the smile vanishing from his face.

 “We wouldn’t let them,” Jones called, surprising her and Miller both. She smiled warmly.

 “Thank you, sorry for thinking so doom-and-gloom about it.”

 “You’re under a lot of stress, ma’am,” Edmund offered, moving to sit on the ground with a few grunts. “Soon as the brass is gone, I’ll get Fuller to make you something special and we can all relax for a bit.”

 “Don’t promise things from other people,” Jones scolded from above. “Fuller’s got the whole camp and the brass to feed.”

 Melanie nodded, shrugging. “I appreciate the thought, but yes-- leave Fuller to do his work for the day. We can relax just fine afterwards without bothering him.” Edmund nodded, looking slightly defeated. She smiled, tilting her head up a bit to lock eyes with him. “You’re honestly helping make this a lot less stressful right now. I like getting to chat with you both, and the rest of the brigade for that matter. Makes me feel much more normal.”

 “Well, I’m glad for that at the very least, ma’am,” he replied with a smile of his own. “Also glad you’re calling them the brigade!”

 The large woman giggled at the sound of Jones sighing from the scaffolding. “Do you think they’re going to make me do drills and the like if they let me enlist?” She asked, her brow knitting again in thought.

 “I honestly don’t know, now that you mention it, ma’am,” Edmund said, tipping his head back to look up at the sky over them as he rested back on his hands. “You’d take up a lot of space for laps, and they’d need to make you do a lot more, I’d say.”

 “I hate running,” she groaned quietly. “I’d much rather skip rope or swim or something if they want me to exercise. I imagine skipping rope is out, though, that’s way too much room needed and way too much possibility for property damage.” Humming thoughtfully, she tipped her head back and forth before asking, “would I get kicked out if I didn’t run well enough?”

 “I think you won’t need to run fast if they do make you run,” Jones chuckled from on high. “You’d only ever need to be keeping pace with the rest of whatever troop you were with, anything more of an emergency you’d be racing everyone else there pretty easily.”

 “Oh, I guess that’s fair,” Melanie said, her eyebrows raising. “I never thought about that.”

 “They might make you keep pace with the boats though if you’re swimming,” Miller mused.

 “I’m not that good a swimmer,” she said. “Definitely not over long distances. Unless we find my flippers, maybe.”

 Before Miller could ask what she meant, Jone piped up with the spyglass to his eye yet again. “Movement at the doors, looks like they’re getting horses. Not sure if it’ll be a few or the lot of them.”

 “Oh boy,” Melanie said, moving to push herself up. Instinctually, her hand went to hover by Miller, unthinking, a finger outstretched for him.

 He puzzled at it a moment while she focused on getting herself off of the ground and into a sitting position. Her eyes drifted back and she recoiled, quickly, blushing deeply. “Sorry, Miller,” she said abruptly, flustered. “I wasn’t thinking. Thought you were Henry, for a second.”

 “It’s alright, ma’am,” Miller said, soothingly, pushing himself off the ground and looking up at her with concern. She was suddenly extremely uncomfortable. “Just didn’t know what it was for, that’s all, I didn’t mean to offend.”

 The giant woman flashed a quick, embarrassed smile to him. “It didn’t offend, sorry, I know it’s weird and terrifying.” She cleared her throat, her eyes moving toward the end of the field again.

 “Bravest man in the troops, ma’am,” Edmund called up warmly. “No fear, here, I’m just not quick on the uptake of anything. Sorry for being a bit dim.”

 She smiled, not looking back down at him. “You’re no dimmer than I am, it’s why you’re in charge.”

 The three of them chuckled together, wiping the dirt off of themselves and putting in their best efforts to look respectable.

Chapter Text

 Having the Duke and the Duchess together was a significantly less nerve-wracking experience for Melanie, mostly because they seemed to spend the majority of the time speaking with each other instead of her. Admittedly concerning at first, the looks on the faces of Commander Martellis and Captain Grant seemed to impress on her that this was normal, or at least not something worth mentioning.

 Her cheeks were still rosy from embarrassment, one of the first things occurring upon their arrival being a fairly public scolding by Lionus about the condition of her knee, which had bled through her pants. She sat notably lower than the Duke and Duchess now, her legs stretched out as Lionus tended to the wound with the help of one of the Noble Guards who seemed familiar with the process. To Martellis’, Grant’s and her own relief, he was reaching the problem area without needing to be lifted or handled; something none of them had wanted to do in front of the Nobility.

 “There will need to be several meetings with representatives of all branches of His Majesty’s forces, as well as his regional council,” the Duke continued, mostly to Melanie but with a stressed clarity that seemed to be trying to remind his wife as well. “Until a decision is made officially, however, we are granting you permission to act as a member of the Coastal Watch, under the command of the General and the Commander.”

 “Thank you, your grace,” Melanie said, unable to fight the smile the news caused.

 “We will be ensuring a space for a liaison of yours to be present at all discussions,” Ais’lyn said firmly. “The Commander has informed me that the option of choosing your liaison has already been suggested to you. That will be the case whenever we’re ready to tackle that.”

 “Thank you, General,” she replied, the Duchess’ eyes sparkling as a wide, proud grin spread across her features. Speaking as if she were officially enlisted was obviously winning her some points.

 They had already gone over some of the finer details; The Duchy were beginning the process of making it possible for her to travel to the barracks to have her go through the salvaged items there, same with the items still on the beach, and were going to make allowing her to assess the damage to her vessel and possibly salvage more items from it a top priority in the most immediate discussions to come.

 She was practically buzzing, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. The anxiety and concern was essentially gone; even the Captain seemed to be more relaxed now though still not what anyone would describe as visibly pleased. She went from possibly losing what little she still had to being given all of the things she had asked for. All of the things, save for one, and her body was practically vibrating waiting to ask for it.

 “We’ll be adding members of our Noble Guard to the active members here, and they’ll be in rotation with your assigned guards. Should you need anything that requires more privacy, the women will be escorting you instead of the men,” Ais’lyn declared firmly, Commander Martellis’ face remaining neutral but a look of possible discomfort or irritation crossing Captain Grant’s as they stood at ease behind the Duke and Duchess. “Save for Corporal Lionus, of course, for any medical concerns you would have,” she added warmly, waving down to the Corporal who waved back up from finishing his work with a grin.

 “Thank you, General!” He called back with a laugh as Melanie repeated the same, but quieter. Lionus patted her leg, directing to her, “All done, Miss, cover it back up carefully when you’re ready and don’t do anymore damage to it.”

 “Thank you, Corporal, sorry,” she whispered softly, blushing with embarrassment again as she waited for him and the Noble Guardmember to stand back and rolled her pants down slowly, Ais’lyn still speaking to her from the scaffolding.

 “Is there anything we’ve yet to mention here that you feel needs to be addressed?” The Duchess’ strong voice asked as she adjusted one of her gloves in thought. Melanie’s head shot up from her work with her leg and whipped to look at the Duchess with a swiftness that startled several of the onlookers but just caused a lopsided, knowing smile to spread across Ais’lyn’s face briefly.

 “Am I being permitted to see Henry again?”

 In her attempt to hide her desperation and worry, Melanie was now concerned that the question may have sounded too firm, or aggressive, and she darted her eyes between the Duchess and the Duke in front of her as her breath caught in her throat. Too long a pause in an answer was liable to suffocate her.

 “Of course,” the Duke replied, and she let out a fast, tense breath as the wave of relief washed over her. “He is still in need of recovery, however, so it may still be some time before it can occur.”

 “I still need to speak with him, personally, now that you mention it,” Ais’lyn said, almost to herself more than anyone else. “But yes, you have our permission to see him as soon as possible.”

 “Thank you, your graces, very much,” she breathed, taking a deep inhale and trying not to look as dizzy as she felt.

 “I believe that is all we need at the moment here, Melanie,” Ais’lyn said, clearly and with a hint of comfort in her tone. “If Corporal Ethridge believes you would be able to, I’d like for you to show me that pond you mentioned earlier for myself and the Guard to inspect.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” she offered with a faint smile, turning to Lionus.

 The Corporal’s eyes met hers and he seemed to subtly raise his eyebrows in questioning. “If your leg is hurting too much from the ointment, I’d recommend you stay here,” he said clearly, and she was reminded of his display of kindness on the beach. She smiled with a nod of understanding.

 “It feels fantastic, thank you, Corporal,” she said, twisting her mouth in a knowing smile as he mouthed ‘Lionus’ back up to her. She flashed him a quick wink and inclined her head in acknowledgement before turning back toward the Duke and Duchess.

 “Excellent,” Ais’lyn said happily, clapping her hands together with a satisfied sigh. “Dismissed, everyone, thank you for your time. Return to your duties as necessary.”

 “Dismissed,” the Duke repeated, a tiredness in his voice as he approached the Duchess with a flat, unamused look.

 Melanie waited patiently for a few of the Guard and her favourite Lieutenants to clear the area around her as everyone but the top brass moved to the front to form marching ranks or mount horses again, before pushing herself off the ground and stretching her legs, testing the weight on her knee idly with another long, deep breath and sigh of relief.

 Her and Lionus flashed thumbs-ups at each other as they considered the work before she rolled her shoulders, letting her neck tip back as she closed her eyes against the bright sky.

 Her heart was fluttering rapidly as she took deep, meditative breaths to steady herself. Henry. She was allowed to see him again. All of the anxiety and waiting to hear, she finally had it said clearly; she’ll see him again. It wasn’t going to be immediate, but even just hearing that that one particular roadblock was gone was like lifting a crushing weight from her chest.

 She could ask how he’s doing, and get real answers now. Hell, if the Duke and Duchess worked as fast as it sounded like they were going to, she may even be able to travel to visit him at the barracks if he’s not able to travel to her.

 The world around her melted away in the warm rays of the sun, a gentle breeze caressing her face as it rustled the leaves of the trees behind her. 

 “How’s the back?” Lionus yelled up to her as she was deep in the ecstasy of her newly found peace.

 “No issues since we dealt with it yesterday, thankfully,” she said, keeping her head up to the sky with her voice slightly louder than her usual quiet restraint, reaching up to touch along her shoulder gently. “I notice it when I stretch, but with the aches still I notice everything when I stretch.”

 “Before I head back tonight we’ll touch up the forehead again for you. Should be the last it needs unless you abuse it like you did your leg, Miss!” Lionus laughed up at her as he pulled off his gloves and turned to start packing away his things.

 “Please don’t tell Devon about this,” she groaned lightly. “I don’t need--”

 “Decorum,” a voice to her left called suddenly, snapping her out of her inattentiveness.

 “Sorry, sir,” the giant woman apologized to Martellis in an embarrassed, quiet voice. She turned, placing a fist over her heart and bowing forward as deeply as seemed appropriate toward the scaffolding where the Duke, Duchess, Commander and Captain were still, in fact, standing and watching her. “Sorry, your grace, General.”

 Duke William’s face had a natural, sharp look to it that made him seem aggressive or offended, and now it seemed surprised on top of that, but the laughing grin on General Ais’lyn’s face made her feel dramatically more at ease. Both of them stared as she straightened back up to her full height, their position on the third tier of scaffolding bringing their height roughly to her waist.

 “My husband was just remarking that he hadn’t seen you at your full height yet, I did try to warn him it was an intimidating visual at first,” Ais’lyn called up to her brightly. “I’ll be seeing him and his escort off, and then you and I will head off together with my own escort.”

 “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, General,” she replied with an appreciative smile. She bowed slightly again, addressing the Duke directly. “Thank you again, your grace. Safe travels please.”

 “As well to you,” he replied, a notable change in the pitch of his voice. The Commander gestured politely for the Nobility to begin their travels down through the scaffolding, turning to her again with another look of relief which she openly returned this time.

 Melanie stood, waiting patiently for Ais’lyn to finish her goodbye with her husband, waving faintly back to Lionus as he mounted up next to Captain Grant. To her surprise, Grant offered a quick salute which she returned by placing her fist over her heart and bowing her head slightly again, unsure if saluting back would be too sudden and too large a gesture.

 Commander Martellis smiled, signaling for her to hold again like he always did, and she mimicked it back with a wide grin. The three men wheeled their horses around to join with the procession of the Duke and his entourage.

 Miller and Jones were speaking out of her hearing range with the Duchess, Jones doing most of the talking out of the two Lieutenants. Ais’lyn seemed to be directing them in some way, her arm pointing and motioning to different things in the area as Miller and Jones nodded along, Jones occasionally stepping in with a comment or motion of his own. Their discussion finished with a flourish of salutes, Miller and Jones both turning to salute Melanie in turn with Miller’s grin wide enough to see from space, and she did another bow with her fist over her heart which seemed to please them before they turned to take the cart back to the main facility.

 She knelt on her good knee carefully, keeping her other foot planted firmly on the ground as the Duchess approached her again. “Sorry about the long wait, dear,” Ais’lyn offered clearly, the giant woman gesturing for her to lower her voice politely. “Had to discuss a few things with the men, and they informed me the horses haven’t a lot of experience yet with you moving near them, so it’ll be a trip on foot for our little group.”

 “I understand, ma’am,” she replied softly, the smile still across her face. “I could use a nice walk about now, if I’m permitted to say.”

 “Then let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

 Captain Grant ushered the last of the Lieutenants into the staging room, closing the door behind them and moving with them to the cluster of ranked members.

 “Sorry for having to keep you awake a bit longer, Chase, just wanted to make sure that everyone was briefed,” Lionus offered apologetically to the second Lieutenant.

 “Wasn’t getting much sleep while I was waiting, thank you Corporal,” he responded with a salute before turning to the Commander.

 Peter Martellis was a tired man, but one who held himself with the full authority of his rank regardless in front of his fellow Officers and members of the Watch. Melanie and the Duchess had left with their selection of the Noble Guard just a few minutes prior, and Peter had seen to settling the Duke away in the upper office to begin writing formal requests to the proper authorities after they had returned to the facility.

 “To keep this as brief as possible,” he began, looking around the room, “the Duke and Duchess, both, are pleased with the work that we’ve done here.”

 A collective sigh of relief erupted from a number of the men, several nodding in approval.

 “There are still a number of decisions to be made regarding Melanie and her place here, but those are decisions that lie outside of our control in many ways,” he continued. “For now, I want you all to know that I, personally, commend each and every one of you for your work and perseverance through this. Regardless of what should come, I want you all to feel proud that you were able to maintain your composure and be a shining example of what the Watch needs in its ranks, and especially among its officers.”

 A round of ‘thank you, sir’s quietly echoed its way around the large room, the Captain even smiling as he looked at the men.

 “For the time being, we’re to remain on the guard schedule with Wells, Chase and Jones as it was. There will be Noble Guard joining you on your shifts once that’s been approved and the logistics have been hammered out by their own ranks.”

 Miller’s voice blurted out a question as soon as he saw an opening. “Is she being enlisted with us?”
 
 Captain Grant breathed out a nearly-silent swear as he rolled his eyes behind closed lids, turning to Miller as patiently as he could muster. “That’s not our decision. Nobility and the other Authorities will want to discuss their own options for placement, and beyond their say it would otherwise be her decision. There’s no knowing right now where she could go, but for now she is to be treated as an enlisted member of the Watch to whatever degree we can manage.”

 Miller seemed equal parts concerned and offended, Jones and Fuller both instinctually grabbing his arms gently as a reminder of his place. The Second Lieutenant nodded in acknowledgement of their attempts to restrain him, setting his mouth shut. 

 The Commander nodded to Grant in confirmation. “There will be a lot of work to be done over the next few days in short order, and I will not lie to you and pretend that things will be much easier after that, but your continued work and strong display of Watch ideals will be desperately sought while still under the close eye of the Nobility and King’s Guard as they arrive.”
 
 There was a calm, relieved understanding from the men in the room, Miller’s slowly-fading concern aside. Lionus turned to Fuller with a warm smile. “Are you doing ok with supplies and hands for meals for the day with the surprise visitors?”

 “We’ve got loads of food on hand for the next while, thanks to the deliveries from the outposts on top of our existing stock,” Fuller replied, crossing his arms, the sleeves bunching up enough to flash a bit of his tattooed arms underneath. “We could use another two to three hands on rotation in the kitchen with me though, at least to wash up as fast as we need to for turn-around.” He turned to Miller and Jones, cocking his head to the side. “Did she eat what we sent over earlier?”

 Jones nodded as Miller frowned. “Good bit, likely on par with what she ate yesterday morning from what I recall, didn’t get through half of what was sent though.” Jones said, shrugging and jerking his head toward Miller. “Edmund’s worried about it.”

 “Stress had her stomach turned,” Miller said, sighing. “Not surprising, obviously, but I don’t think she’s eating as much as she needs to. For her size, should be at least twice what we’ve been seeing her put away if not more.”

 The Commander nodded, his eyebrows raising slightly. “I was unaware, but we’ll make sure it’s mentioned in the discussions. Keep an eye on it for now.”

 Lionus shared a concerned look with Martellis and Grant before turning back to Fuller. “Thank you, Fuller, for your work.”

 “Oh,” Edmund’s eyebrows suddenly shot up, his face alight with a memory as he turned to address Fuller with a tone of extreme importance. “She said it was delicious.”

 Fuller laughed, shaking his head. “I won’t be getting sick of hearing that, at least,” he said, clapping a hand on Miller’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mill.”

 Chase did his best to hide a yawn near the far end of the cluster of men, and the Commander tipped his head up respectfully. “If anyone has questions, you’re free to ask, otherwise you’re dismissed from the briefing.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Chase said, saluting and leaving to return to the bunks for the day as a few of the other Lieutenants, Jones and Fuller among them, filed out.

 “Any objections if I set to training a horse or two to move alongside her when she gets back, sirs?” Wells asked as he approached the Commander and Captain with a salute of his own. “Should the General or Nobility have no further need of her, at least.”

 Martellis looked to Grant, who nodded in approval. “We’ll need them desensitized sooner rather than later, if they’re going to want her traveling anytime soon,” the Captain said to him.

 Commander Martellis nodded, turning back to Wells. “Fantastic suggestion, Wells. Take one of the better riders with you to avoid any injuries as much as possible. In the meantime, some tying posts out near her area in places wouldn’t go astray.” He turned to Dawson, who was already nodding and saluting, turning to start gathering his usual construction members for the quick job.

 Miller leaned forward slightly, “I’d be more than happy to help with the horse training, sirs.”

 His eyes looked between the genuinely-considering eyes of the Commander, and the barely-disguised annoyed stare of the Captain before the Commander nodded with a wave. “If Wells allows it, on his orders.”

 “Yes, sir,” Miller replied in a chipper tone, turning to Wells who nodded sharply.

 The Captain watched as Miller filed out with the rest of the men, sighing quietly. “I’m only now realizing we never assigned Miller a real job after he and the others arrived here with her.”

 “Ah,” Martellis breathed as the knowledge dawned on him as well. “That means Bartlett, Peters, and Hicks also haven’t been assigned.”

 “They’ve been doing construction efforts for the most part,” Lionus chimed in. “But we can set them to training and drill oversights for the privates.”

 “That works for the three of them,” Grant said bluntly, “but Miller shouldn’t be allowed to influence the newer recruits that directly.”

 “Captain,” Martellis warned, but shrugged quickly after. “Though…”

 Lionus chuckled, shaking his head. “Let him be a gap-fill for any holes with the guard rotation. He’s eager enough to volunteer regardless; he’ll see where something needs to be done and do it. I’d trust him with that.”

 “It is nice to have someone I don’t need to think about too hard,” the Captain muttered, lifting his hat briefly to move some stray hairs back underneath it, not motivated enough to fully re-do his loose hair-tie yet. 

 “I agree,” Martellis concurred with a sigh. “It would be one thing if he was skipping duties, but I don’t think I ever manage to lay eyes on the man without him actively being in the middle of something.”

 The three officers took a look around the room before all three removed their hats, sighing and groaning tiredly as they relaxed their stances.

 Today had been a trial, and lunch wasn’t even ready yet.

 Duchess Ais’lyn was pacing back and forth in a relaxed manner on top of one of rocky ledges near the back of the pond, where the mountain run-off flowed in from a clear, cold river. “My thoughts at the moment are to suggest the King’s representatives allow a formation of a smaller, inter-branch unit to be assigned specifically to you,” she was explaining as she finished unfastening what must have been 100 golden buttons of her coat, revealing the brilliantly white blouse beneath.

 “Volunteers, please?” Melanie asked timidly, laying on her side and propped up on an elbow on the softer ground of the area, her body aching and exhausted after the rollercoaster of a day. The Duchess had given her permission to rest upon arrival, though it still made the giant woman feel uncomfortable to not be sitting properly or standing to speak with a member of the Nobility.

 “I can make no promises in that regard,” General Ais’lyn said, genuinely apologetic as she turned to look at her. “It will be by request, you will need specific ranks, and members performing specific duties to attend you. We can form a list of people to suggest, and ask them before it becomes an official assignment, however. Who do you feel you would want assigned with you out of those you know?”

 “Corporal Lionus,” the giant woman said after a moment of thought. “Should I get shot, he’s the one I’d trust to patch me up. Miller, Jones, they’re both very good to me. I’d like to at least see Kendrick again, he was very nice, but it’s been days now so I’m probably terrifying to him again.”

 The Duchess brought a hand to her chin in thought. “Kendrick… one of the medics, yes?”

 “Yes, ma’am,” Melanie replied. “Younger boy, his first year anniversary is coming up sometime this week, though it may have passed already. I’m not sure.” She sighed, rubbing at her head tiredly. “Now that I’ve said it out loud, I have no idea what day of the week it is. I have no idea what day it is at all.”

 A kind smile spread across the General’s face as she approached the ledge of her rocky platform, her eyes turning up just slightly to meet Melanie’s. “You’ve been through an extremely traumatic ordeal, my dear, don’t focus on things that aren’t that significant in the long run.” Melanie smiled tiredly back, her mouth quivering a moment as she took a steadying breath. “For reference, however, today is Thursday.”

 “Thank you,” Melanie whispered, taking a deep breath and looking up to the sky from where she lay. “As for anyone else for the unit, the men who escorted me to the training grounds from the beach were all very good to me and have been doing fantastic work. That included Miller, Jones, Hicks, Peters and… Barrett?” She said, unsure. “Barrett or Bartlett, I haven’t had too much time to speak with him with everything going on, my apologies.” The giant woman hesitated, thinking deeply. "Fuller? I'd love to request Fuller but asking for something like a personal chef seems a bit rich for me, if I'm honest."

 Ais’lyn nodded, returning to her pacing. “This is all a good place to start from. The Commander would lead any unit, as well, directly. Whether hands-on or hands-off, that would be dependent on the amount of work, but with himself and the Captain--”

 Melanie cleared her throat awkwardly, her eyes moving to lock with the Duchess’ again as the small, regal woman looked at her curiously. “I… would like to request that the Captain be asked, alone-- not with the Commander-- if this is something he would honestly, genuinely want to be a part of.”

 A gentle breeze rustled the branches above, sending the near-noon sun coming through the canopy dancing across the pool in spots and waves. The General furrowed her brow with concern. "You have reason to believe he would reject it if given the option?"

 There was a telling hesitation before the giant woman replied. “I would just like for him to be given the opportunity to speak for himself, free of other influence, ma’am,” she said in a whisper. “He and the Commander are very close, and while Commander Martellis doesn’t have much of an option given his rank, I don’t want the Captain to be forced. This entire ordeal has been very hard for the men here.”

 “I will not pry further,” Ais’lyn responded quietly, nodding with a solemn expression. “You’re insistent about letting people choose where they can, and I’ll respect that as much as I am at liberty to do so.”

 “Thank you, General,” Melanie whispered with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Please don’t discuss that request with anyone outside of the two of us, either, if I can ask that.”

 “Of course, dear,” the Duchess’ voice was reassuring, delicate. “If I may request the same in return.”

 “Absolutely, General Ais’lyn,” she replied, placing her hand over her heart. The two women smiled at each other a moment in the cool shade of the trees, the sun dancing around them as the leaves rustled overhead again.

 "Before we head back, dear, is there anything else you'd like to say about your time here among the Watch?"

 The giant's hazel eyes narrowed slightly in thought before she nodded. "Yes, actually."

 Kendrick’s eyes followed the hobbling man worriedly around the room yet again, groaning quietly to himself in discomfort. “Henry, sir, please,” he begged nervously. “Take a rest again, for a while.”

 “If I have to sit down any longer I may explode,” Henry offered tersely as he did another lap, stopping by the window with its closed shutters to adjust himself and try to stretch out his ankle again.

 “Sir, if you cause the swelling to get any worse, you won’t be able to go anywhere for days,” Devon said, moving to another of the supply closets in search of something useful. “Here,” he called, yanking out a cane and swinging it out toward Henry, who grabbed it on another pass by.

 “Thank you, Devon,” he said, stopping to lean on it for a moment.

 “Take a second and at least let us ice the leg again,” Devon said, walking over and putting an arm in front of Henry carefully to try and deter him from walking forward.

 The man sighed, nodding irritably as he used the cane to help him back toward the medical cot. “It’s been hours,” he grumbled unhappily, leaning back into the pillows as Kendrick scampered from the room to get more ice.

 “Yes sir, and it could be hours more before we get any news. They’ve choked out our communications for the day,” Devon said bluntly, sounding empathetic and also irritable. He looked to Henry briefly to get approval before he started to press and massage around his bad leg carefully, the damaged man flinching occasionally at the touch but not objecting. “Trust me, I’m not happy about any of it either but we’ve got no means to do anything about it.”

 Henry shifted, letting out a pained breath as Devon reached his ankle. “I just need to hear how she’s doing.”

 “I’ve got no news for today, no idea what that the Duke is putting her through for interrogation,” Devon began after looking to make sure Kendrick hadn’t forgotten to close the door behind him again. “But she was doing well enough yesterday.”

 “You were speaking with her?” Henry leaned up in surprise, eyes wide. Devon looked up from trying to adjust his ankle into a better position on top of a spare pillow, locking his dark eyes with Henry’s blue-green irises.

 “Depends entirely on if you’re going to be staying in this damn bed,” the medic leveled.

 Henry laughed, his head dropping with a slow nod. “Yes, sorry Lance Corporal,” he sighed, turning his eyes back up as he listened.

 “Myself and Lionus took her to the pond yesterday to get her wounds cleaned and looked at,” Devon started softly, his demeanor becoming more gentle. “Back is a state but mostly just surface scrapes and cuts. Head is fine, knee is good enough for walking and moving.”

 The sailor nodded, sloppily using his unbroken arm to try and haul all of his hip-length long hair out from behind him. “Anything else?” He asked, hoping for something new.

 Devon seemed to hesitate in consideration for a moment, Henry assuming he was concerned about giving out information he wasn’t supposed to be; Devon actually being concerned with how well the man would take the news that he and Melanie had seemingly decided to become mortal enemies of wit.

 “She’s been getting along well with the men she’s been allowed to speak with. Her assigned guards, for the most part, seem to be friendly with her,” Devon decided to offer, kindly. “First Lieutenant Wells and Second Lieutenant Jones. Not sure on Second Lieutenant Chase, he hadn’t been around her much and I left before his shift started.”

 Henry looked on with intense interest, causing Devon to hesitate a moment. “Sorry,” the resting man apologized quickly, realizing he was staring. “I hadn’t heard anything about her getting to speak with anyone outside of Command and the Corporal. I’m glad to hear she’s been at least a little social since the beach.”

 “Her and the Corporal definitely get along well,” Devon admitted, unable to fully conceal his discomfort with it. Henry’s eyebrows raised in questioning before the medic dropped his eyes to the floor, fidgeting as he continued. “I’m not…” he started before shaking his head. “He allows her to pick him up and I can’t quite stomach the sight of it. Apologies if that causes offense to you, I don’t mean to.”

 A gentle smile crossed Henry’s lips as he nodded understandingly. “It doesn’t cause me offense,” he offered sympathetically. “It was a long road to get as used to it as I am, and I’m not saying that it’s something you’ll get used to, or that you’ll have to. If it makes you feel any better at all, if she knows you’re uncomfortable with it she won’t do it to you unless asked.”

 Devon let out a long, shuddering breath at the thought. “Slightly more comforting. I don’t mind talking to her, to a certain point, and it doesn’t get in the way of me treating her if that worries you at all, I just…”

 “It’s the hands,” Henry said, knowingly, Devon nodding in agreement.

 “The hands. Can’t get past them.” His own hands came up in front of him and he stared at them.

 “It’s because they’re a similar point of reference,” Henry said, laughing to himself. “Her hands look like your hands, so it’s impossible not to compare sizes and feel dwarfed. It’s too harsh a juxtaposition.”

 “A what?” Devon asked, confused, as he looked up from his hands, Henry chuckling again with an apology.

 “Sorry, a contrast.” He smiled to himself warmly, thinking of the conversations he and Melanie had had over the many months they were together. It was comforting to feel she had rubbed off on him in that way. “It’s natural and understandable to be put off by it. Don’t feel pressured if anyone else doesn’t have the same standoffishness about it. Do what makes you comfortable.”

 “Thank you,” Devon said, sounding surprised by the kind words. A warm moment passed between them before the medic suddenly looked up, as if something incredibly annoying just struck him.

 “Where the hell is Kendrick? He just went to go get ice--”

 The sounds of running in the hall made Henry lean up suddenly and Devon to stand rigid, the door swinging open as Kendrick leaned his head in, panting, three bags of ice hanging from his hand. “Nobility… on approach.”

 “Lord, Kendrick,” Devon hissed, scolding the young boy. “I thought the building was on fire, get in here.”

 The red-headed medic went scarlet in the face as he tried to catch his breath. “Sorry, I just… thought you should know…” He closed the door behind him, approaching Henry quickly with the bags and he and Devon put them into the proper places on his leg.

 The medics went about the room, tidying up the dirty dishes from lunch and the things that had been aggressively rearranged so Henry could stomp out his frustrations earlier. Now that he was relaxing on the bed again, sacks of ice piled on him, he grimaced at the thought he may have done more harm to himself. Devon hung the cane up on a chair beside the bed, whispering to him to not even think about using it until after the last call for dinner.

 The sound of the long, melodic trumpet blared from outside and the room became extremely tense.

 “Head on out, Kendrick, I’ll hold down until he gets up here,” Devon offered the younger medic.

 “Please sir, I’d like to look like I’m working hard when the Duke arrives,” Kendrick offered, his voice strained by his nerves. Henry and Devon both shared a smile with him, Devon nodding.

 “Alright, come help me fix his sling then.”

 They had just finished tying the new sling for him when the knock finally came on the door.

 “Free to enter,” Devon said clearly, standing up straight and checking to make sure Kendrick was the same.

 The door swung open and three surprised faces greeted the Duchess as she entered with her assistant, causing her to grin devilishly.

 “Announcing Duchess Ais’lyn Lostelle Vogunti, of the Verdandi Province,” the assistant said clearly to the room after she had closed the door behind the two of them. The two medics snapped to perfect salutes in greeting. “Lieutenant General of His Royal Majesty’s Eastern Coastal Watch.”

 “Private Kendrick March and Lance Corporal Devon Harris, I presume,” the Duchess said after saluting and relaxing into an at-ease position, looking between the two medics.

 “Yes, ma’am,” the men replied, Kendrick notably more nervous in comparison with Devon’s strong confidence.

 “Excellent, you’re both welcome to stay for a moment while we get some of the more pressing details out of the way,” she said cheerfully, delighted by the still-plain confusion across all three faces in front of her. Her eyes lined up with Henry’s, her green irises flashing like flames. “Henry Lemuels, we have an exceptional amount of things to discuss in private, but first of all I would like to know if you’ve eaten recently?”

 “Yes, your grace--”

 “Ma’am is fine,” she interrupted him swiftly. “I would prefer to be a General for the rest of the day; very tired of everything else at the moment.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” he said, corrected, his eyes still wide with surprise and curiosity as he looked at the dramatic, fiery woman in front of him. “We finished lunch just a few hours ago.”

 “Excellent,” she breathed. “I had interrupted breakfast this morning and still feel terrible about it.”

 Kendrick’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to subtly glance at Devon, who also seemed faintly perplexed by what was happening. Neither of them recalled the Duchess being here for breakfast.

 “I need to know from your medical staff here if you’re fit for a number of things, namely if you’re fit for a bath of some kind, haircut, shave…”

 “He can do all of those things with assistance,” Devon replied clearly. He had been in numerous meetings with the higher command ranks of His Majesty’s Service branches; Nobility didn’t make him nervous. “Given the breaks in his arm, it’ll be several weeks yet before he can utilize that hand properly and we’ll need the cast to remain as dry as possible, but I can see to the staff to ensure he’s bathed, ma’am.”

 “Please see to that as soon as possible after we’ve finished speaking. Also see to having the barber visit him as soon as it’s done,” the General nodded respectfully toward Devon.

 “My apologies,” Henry said abruptly, his brow knit tightly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand why all of that is necess--”

 “Can you stand, dear?” She asked him, casting off his interjection as if he had said nothing at all. “Not now, obviously, you’re being treated. But could you walk if needed or will that be a few more days yet?”

 “I… yes, I can walk,” he stammered, still hopelessly confused by the turn in events. “Not well yet, I’ll need a cane, but it’s not an impossibility by any stretch.”

 “Horseback riding?” She asked, tilting her head and looking him over as she removed her gloves. Her assistant, similar to the Duke’s, was scribbling away in pencil everything she was saying, her eyes remaining on the paper.

 “He’d need side-along with another rider, he’d only have one hand for the reins, but aside from some possible discomfort with having his bad leg in a stirrup for too long he’d be able to ride if it’s important, ma’am,” Devon said, his eyes trying to search the Duchess’ face for some kind of hint as to what was happening.

 “Wonderful, that can be arranged easily.” The General pulled up a chair herself, sitting down and crossing her legs high at the knee, letting out a long breath as she looked over Henry from her position across from the foot of the medical cot. “We’ll arrange for you to have fresh clothing, obviously not tailored as we’re moving a bit too quickly, but there should be something available nearby in roughly your size. Would a Naval uniform be too insulting for you? Should I go out of my way to secure a spare Watch uniform?”

 Henry’s mouth set firmly. He was going to trial. A tense hesitation crossed between him and the Duchess as he pondered. “The Naval uniform would be fine if non-affiliated clothing is out of the question, ma’am,” he said, obviously tense. If he were going to be put before the courts, he would rather represent his abandoned career than further drag the Watch through any mud as a result of the mess he had inadvertently made for them.

 General Ais’lyn’s eyes narrowed at the sudden change in his attitude, looking curious a moment before she turned to Devon and Kendrick again. “You’re both excused from the room, and please tell the Staff Sergeant to send for a selection of Naval Officer uniforms for Henry to try on. We need them by tomorrow morning, tell him.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” Devon said, saluting quickly, turning to tell Kendrick with his eyes to do the same before he ushered himself and the younger medic from the room quietly. The General smirked as she heard the Lance Corporal hushing the sudden burst of concerned questions that came from the Private after the door had closed.

 Her eyes moved back toward Henry across the bed, her eyes narrowed again suspiciously. “If you truly do hate the Navy that much, dear, I’m sure she would love to see you in the colors of the Watch as well. I just felt the blue would look quite dashing on you.”

 Henry’s eyebrows leapt once again, and he sat up further toward the Duchess. “Melanie,” he breathed.

 Ais’lyn’s head tipped to the side with a dazzling smile, her eyes glimmering with the grin as she removed her hat. “Yes, dear, my apologies-- I should’ve spoken more directly as to my intentions from the start.”

 “I had assumed I was being placed on trial,” he admitted, his heart racing, pounding against his chest.

 “No, no, dear--” she laughed at herself brightly, “you’re both cleared of that. Everything is fine, essentially, in that regard, though I don’t believe I’m supposed to be forth-right about that information,” she said, letting out a relieved breath as she leaned back in the wooden chair. “My husband was of the impression you’d need several more days of recovery, but if you’re willing to go through the gauntlet of a bath and a barber, I’d love for you to see her as early as tomorrow.”

 “Yes,” he said, firmly, barely giving her time to finish speaking. “Anything. Is she ok?”

 Her expression softened immensely, her green eyes still sparkling as she looked him over with a sweet smile. “She’s as worried for you as you are for her, but aside from that she is, by all I can judge, fine.”

 Henry exhaled shakily, letting his head and himself fall back onto the pillows as relief overtook him, water welling up behind his eyes instantly. The General continued to speak, pretending not to notice.

 “She’s a fascinating woman, and has persevered amazingly through the ordeal you have both been through,” she said, her voice gentle. “She did some damage to her knee again today from trying to accommodate myself and my husband, but it’s already been tended to by Corporal Ethridge.”

 “What’s to happen to her?” Henry managed quietly, worriedly.

 “Nothing, dear, not yet at least,” Ais’lyn offered comfortingly. “She’s being treated as enlisted in the Watch so that the Commander and I can try to make firm roots for her there, keep her where she’s most familiar right now unless she decides differently, before the other high-hats come in with their own ideas of where they want to try and place her.”

 “You can’t let them use her,” Henry said, suddenly, his head tipping back up to look at her, his eyes shimmering from the unshed tears. “She’s not fit for--”

 “I know when someone is useful for war,” Ais’lyn said firmly, the smile falling from her face as she bore into Henry’s eyes with her own. “And I know when they are not fit for that kind of action. You and Melanie will be as far away from that life as I can manage to keep you.”

 Henry nodded, taking another shaky breath. “She’s not made for it, she won’t be able to perform how they would want her to and it would only hurt her. She would try to please them, she would try to do what they wanted, but she’s too gentle, too kind.”

 “The fiercest I saw her today was when she was asking about you,” Ais’lyn offered with a smirk. “I am not saying that to imply she is not fierce-- I do believe that had my husband told her you would not be permitted to see eachother again, she would’ve rectified it herself somehow; but I sensed no interest in harming anyone.” A bright laugh escaped her as she turned her eyes around the room idly. “The girl is terrified of hurting feelings, she’d never be able to be a hired gun.”

 “She would try,” Henry stressed again, warningly. “You can not let her believe it’s what’s wanted of her, or she will try.”

 Ais’lyn’s eyes locked with his again as she considered his words, her brow knitting a moment before her expression softened again. “Amazing,” she breathed, smiling softly.

 Henry tilted his head curiously in her direction at her expression.

 “Don’t hold it against me,” she replied, a wide smile coming across her face as she chuckled to herself, “I had firmly believed that she was the more protective one when it came to the both of you. I’m very pleased to see I was wrong. You both care for eachother very deeply.” Henry’s cheeks flushed and he turned his eyes down. “These few days without her must’ve been very hard on you.”

 “They’ve been hell,” he said, his voice breaking as the tears began to flow, his shoulders shaking.

Chapter Text

 The grounds of the barracks were rumbling with activity in the morning warmth, training drills happening across the inner field, with men scaling rigging that was strung from the ground to the top of the three-storey stone wall that surrounded the hilltop fortress. Closer to the barracks building itself, men were hurriedly packing carts with crates, supplies and soldiers as others were bringing horses out for their daily trip to the Training Grounds.

 Commander Martellis was drinking very strong, black coffee as he overlooked the work. The night had been long, and while he slept like a canon couldn’t wake him he couldn’t help the feeling that he still needed another few days of it to feel rested. 

 Members of the Noble Guard were melding seamlessly into the structured chaos of his own ranks, causing him to smile tiredly as his eyes drifted. They had finished up at the Training Grounds late yesterday evening, the Duke insisting on writing all of his correspondence to the other branch Officials and members of the court on-location, and had taken multiple trips back to speak with Melanie before the Commander had requested she spend the rest of the dinner call sitting outside the mess hall, beneath the balcony of the top-floor office, just to save them some time.

 Captain Grant had been set to rearrange the sleeping orders for the men, so that they could dedicate one of the bunk halls and dormitories at the grounds’ facilities for the women of the Noble Guard. They had finally set the Duke on his way back to the Staff Sergeant’s home for the night and were ready to simply come back to barracks and collapse when the Duchess greeted them upon their arrival.

 Lieutenant General Ais’lyn had, quite evidently, been busy at work back at the barracks in terms of setting things in motion for this morning. More food, more building supplies, more men were being sent to improve the Training Grounds into some grand design she seemed to have, and she had been speaking with the Corporal for some time by the time the Commander and Captain had made it back.

 Lionus had been asleep by the time Martellis and Grant had been freed from the General’s discussions so they never got a chance to speak with him, and even this morning he was busy directing Kendrick and Devon and seeing to their charge in the medical ward.

 A round of firing drills went off across the grounds, the familiar ringing of a dozen guns still bouncing around the stone walls when the second dozen went off. Peter inhaled deeply, the smell of the drifting gunpowder smoke having grown nostalgic to him over the years. The door behind him opened with a creak of its old iron hinges, and Peter turned in the event the Duchess had finally finished her numerous, secretive preparations for the morning but was relieved to see Grant exiting the building and emptying his own mug of coffee into himself. 

 “Are you driven mad yet?” Grant asked casually as he came up alongside the Commander, leaning on one of the support posts for the second-floor balcony.

 “All of these people doing everything they’re supposed to be doing and I haven’t had to say a word,” Martellis offered wistfully before taking another sip of his coffee. “Absolutely raving,” he added, and the two men chuckled. “Did you sleep well?”

 “Like the dead, not that it was near enough for this week,” Grant said, setting his mug down next to him on top of a wooden barrel. “Didn’t realise exactly how much stress I was under until some of it was lifted. The standard problems of a bad week.”

 “I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one feeling that way this morning,” Martellis said, reaching out and resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

 “I’ve missed mornings like this,” Daniel said quietly as he watched the men and women working away. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a coffee.”

 Peter smiled, nodding, as he took another long draught of his own brew. They saluted in a practiced manner as groups of trainees or clusters of working members came within range of the two of them, until the door at the bottom of the stairs to the medical ward opened with a clatter. 

 Lionus Ethridge took long strides out onto the grounds, running his hand through his wavy brown hair as he stretched with a deep, meditative breath. His eyes found the Commander and Captain easily as they both waved at him, the three men saluting as he approached.

 "Morning Commander, Captain," he said, chipper and bright.

 "Morning, Corporal," Martellis said with a smile, lifting his coffee in a welcome gesture as Grant also addressed and greeted the field doctor. "Sleep well?"

 "Thankfully, yes," Lionus laughed, adjusting some of the pouches in his belt quickly. "Seems like it's going to be an easier day today, hopefully. Less stress, at the least."

 "Speak for yourself," Grant muttered with a smirk. "You're not under orders to try and keep the General in-check."

 "Duke William knows who he married," Lionus offered with a laugh. "He'll hardly be the kind to put you to hang should that prove a bit too large of an ask."

 Grant laughed as Peter smiled at them both. If this ordeal had been good for something, it had made their relationships a bit better; at least in this moment. "Fair as that is," the Commander began, "she is in rare form. I don't know if I've seen her this excited since she was making up their Guard roster after the wedding."

 "I forgot you were both under her when that happened," Lionus replied, surprised. Grant inclined his head with a smile toward Martellis.

 "Peter was her direct-below throughout the entire engagement. Poor man never did so much paperwork in his life than he did in those few months."

 The Commander smiled at the memory. "She called me Major Gopher. Go-for this, go-for that." He and Daniel chuckled, Lionus grinning as he nodded. "Worried I'll be back to it while she's focusing on all of this now, but at least in the Watch I can delegate."

 "Miller could use a real job, still," Daniel suggested as Peter drained the last of his coffee, walking to place the empty mug next to Daniel's. "Did you have any coffee this morning, Ethridge?" The Captain asked.

 "Lord no," Lionus laughed as the Commander also shook his head in response. "Sets my anxiety right off, not good for my heart. I only drink it when it's absolutely dire, and Commander here hates it; I can't shut up."

 "Hate is a strong word," Martellis countered, wincing, before the door Lionus had exited from came rattling open again.

 "Oh," Lionus said as their eyes all fell on the cluster of people coming out of the stairwell door. "He's sensitive about the coat, don't tell him it looks good on him," he said in a gentle hush.

 Kendrick and Devon walked onto the grounds first, Devon holding the door and Kendrick practically fretting as a taller man, clean-shaven with shimmering milk-chocolate hair pulled back in an artful, short braid walked into the sunlight, a gentle breeze catching the chin-long bangs that delicately framed his face and pushing them back to just past his ears. He leaned on the black wooden cane in his right hand, blue-green eyes squinting against the morning light and examining the grounds as several nearby members stopped to assess him.

 It had been some time since the cerulean-blue of a Naval Officer's uniform had stood on the barracks grounds. Its broad, double-breasted collar was trimmed in the admiral-blue of the uniform's jerkin-like vest which made up the color of the tassel shoulder pieces and ornate cuff detailing, white buttons with shining black embellishments all over the ensemble. His brilliantly white shirt had a high collar that almost reached his chin, a delicate lace holding it up in the front while allowing it to breathe. White pants with admiral-blue ribbons down their outer sides tucked into high, polished black boots.

 Martellis' eyes couldn't move away from the man he saw, like a ghost from a distant dream. Henry, he thought again as if he had never stopped thinking it, could've been Admiral.

 The sailor's eyes seemed to openly ignore the passing glances and stares of the members of the watch and Guard, speaking quietly to Devon and Kendrick as they stepped away from the door. He turned, his eyes finding the Commander, and he nodded awkwardly. His cast arm was dressed in everything but the coat, which was buttoned over the sling to look as proper as possible. As Martellis watched him approach in a near stunned silence, he couldn't help but feel-- especially with his facial hair so expertly cleaned off-- that Henry had not aged a day since he left the Academy those many years ago.

 He watched as Henry's blue-green eyes darted from his own, to the icy grey-blue stare of Daniel, and Martellis suddenly remembered the tensions still between the men. He turned to look at the Captain, who was strangely rigid.

 "I believe that's supposed to be worn with a cravat," the Captain commented, stepping away from the post toward Henry.

 "Oh is that what that was?" Henry asked as he continued to close the gap. "I thought it was for the toilet, my condolences to the plumbing."

 Henry smirked with amusement as the Captain audibly chuckled, both men snapping to salutes, Henry tucking the cane into the hand of his broken arm, while they kept intensely locked eyes. Tension, but not hostility. The Commander could handle this.

 "Good morning, Henry," he said as the limping man turned with Grant to return to the cluster of Officers. Had Lionus not presumably burned his officer's uniform, the four of them would look like a truly striking set. He and the man saluted each other formally, their eyes meeting. Finally seeing him standing again, Martellis was almost taken aback by how broad Henry was in comparison to him despite their identical heights, his muscles gently stretching the blue uniform taught across the arms and shoulders.

 "Good morning, Commander," Henry replied, with notable awkwardness as he reached up to touch his smooth face with a slight grimace. Peter could see from this distance the tan lines from the square beard that had framed his mouth previously.

 “How are you feeling?” Peter asked, looking him over again as Kendrick and Devon formed up behind the Corporal after some greeting nods.

 “About fifty-pounds lighter with the hair gone, hadn’t realized it had been that out of hand for so long,” Henry muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Leg isn’t great still, but I can stand on it and move around well enough with moderate complaints, so that’s better than otherwise.” A loud sigh escaped him as he looked around the barracks grounds idly, a subtle discomfort over every inch of him. “Emotionally?” He asked, “I’m feeling very strange about this all.”

 “That’s understandable, sir, been some time since you were around anything like this,” Lionus offered, empathetically. “Take it as slow as you need.”

 Henry took a deep breath in through his nose and inclined his head toward the Corporal, smiling. “Thank you, Lionus. Speaking of speed, however, when will we be setting off?”

 “Whenever the General decides she’s finished with--” Daniel began, before a new burst of movement came from the side of the building, the dramatic form of the General announced by her shouts of commands as she exited the main halls back onto the barracks grounds. “Ah,” the Captain finished. “Looks like we’ll be on the way soon enough.”

 The men moved to stand at attention as the General wheeled to them instantly, her eyes blazing as she grinned like a madwoman at the sight of Henry, who was notably extremely stiff on her approach.

 “You look fabulous, darling,” she gasped, walking directly up to him and ignoring his open flinch and half-stagger backwards as she reached forward with both hands to start adjusting the collar. The decorated brim of her very dramatic hat practically brushed the man’s nose as she bent forward to fix some of the buttons on his jacket, and Henry shot a horrified look at Martellis who was trying to maintain a neutral composure while facing Grant, who was so obviously delighted at the sight that the Commander worried he was likely to start applauding if it kept going. “The braid is a stroke of genius,” she said, placing her hands on Henry’s shoulder and turning him to take a good all-over look at the man. “The shave is also phenomenal.”

 “I would’ve liked to keep at least a bit of the--” Henry began, bringing his hand up to touch where his beard had been, silently praying that his arm coming up might get her to back up and give him some space.

 She interrupted him swiftly, shaking her head with a shushing noise. “You can grow that back after, I have a plan for today and the shave works very well.”

 He visibly shuddered as she finally stood back and looked him over from head to toe again. “Yes, ma’am,” he offered, awkwardly.

 “Hat,” she said sharply, all of the men around her looking confused as her assistant walked up from behind and placed a tri-corner hat in matching Naval colors into her open palm, and she moved to hand it to him.

 “No,” he blurted out, staring at the thing.

 “I’ll ignore the lack of a ‘ma’am’ at the end of that,” Ais’lyn said casually as she removed her own hat with her free hand and wagging the tri-corner at him insistently, Henry looking up and dipping his head forward apologetically, his mouth still open. “Please, just for the first little while, then you can take it off and not worry about it again.”

 “General,” the Commander interjected clearly, with confidence he wasn’t sure he actually had. “May I ask--”

 “No,” she said happily, “you may not.”

 The Commander’s eyes narrowed as his brow knit, Henry taking the hat with a look of extreme displeasure as he put it on his head, fidgeting with it with his unbroken arm. Ais’lyn turned to look at the Commander with pleading eyes and a mischievous smile. “Please, Peter, let me have this,” she said softly. Behind her, Henry’s wandering, awkward gaze landed on the shit-eating grin of the Captain as he continued to fiddle with his hat and a low, breathy ‘not a word’ from the sailor drifted back to the Commander.

 “I haven’t gotten to enjoy being among the ranks again for so long, and I’ve just spent two weeks with my husband and his family doing the most ridiculous, pompous things. Let me have fun,” she said, reaching a hand out to gently rest on his arm as she smiled.

 “Ma’am,” Martellis began gently. “I’d just like to know what kind of fun you were hoping for. You’ve got me quite concerned.”

 “I just want to…” the General shrugged, drawling in an innocent tone as she thought on her answer, “make it a surprise, for her.”

 Peter’s eyebrows raised subtly at the admission, and he turned his gaze up briefly over the Duchess’ shoulder to look at Henry, who had finally stopped threatening Grant with his eyes. Henry seemed to take a steadying breath before cocking his head to the side with a nod; a reluctant agreement.

 “Yes, ma’am,” Martellis said as the General’s eyes blazed brightly again, and she turned to Henry with a smile, the man flinching at the movement of her.

 “Let’s get you on a horse and we can all head off, finally,” the Duchess said, reaching up to fix his hat before whipping herself around to face the grounds, strutting off as she started barking orders again.

 “She always like this?” Henry muttered, shuddering again as he took the cane back into his right hand and leaned on it, taking some deep breaths.

 “Less direct, usually,” the Captain said, his smile finally fading as he walked back to the barrel and collected his and the Commander’s discarded mugs. “She’s always been… interesting, however.”

 The Captain turned to go, nodding at Devon and Kendrick to follow him as he went to finish preparing for their trip, leaving Henry, Peter and Lionus in the shade of the balcony.

 “She can be a bit much, sir,” Lionus said, watching the General move through the grounds, directing entire groups of men and women almost effortlessly. “Yourself and Melanie will hopefully not have to worry about her imposing much more after today, should things go smoothly.”

 A surprised laugh escaped Henry, and Lionus and Peter both turned to see him admiring his own boots for a moment in thought. “Oh, I have terrible news for you both,” he began as a grin spread across his shaved face. “Melanie likely adores her.”

 The General had been talking excitedly the entire ride up toward the logging road, and was still continuing even now that they were long under the towering canopy. “Let me do all of the talking,” she had said several times now, babbling happily as they rode their horses ahead of the carts of supplies, food, and soldiers, banners flying around them. 

 Henry’s stomach was doing backflips as he rocked back and forth on the horse he was riding, its movements familiar but strange now after two years of wildly different ways to travel. His leg was doing remarkably better than he thought it would be, having iced it for almost the entirety of last night, but he was still letting it hang out of the stirrup to avoid it becoming stiff before they arrived.

 “Deep breaths, sir,” Devon’s voice was quiet to save him any embarrassment that his nerves were that obvious. The medic was gripping the nearest side of Henry’s horse’s reins as he rode side-along to keep the sailor steady. “Only a few minutes left until we’re there.”

 “Thank you, Devon,” Henry whispered back as the General continued talking ahead. “I appreciate your care.”

 “That’s what I’m here for, sir,” he replied with a nod, his eyes still on the road ahead. “We can take a moment when we get up to the dismount point, if you need some extra time to readjust to seeing her.”

 Henry’s eyebrows raised in concern as the words hit him. It had only been days, is it possible he would have forgotten what it was like to be around her in such a short time? His eyes glazed over in thought as the memories of the start of their time together came flooding back-- he would need to aggressively readjust every day, even if they were only just out of each other’s sights for a couple of hours. He was uncomfortable, crowded, claustrophobic to a degree around the members of the Watch, but now that he thought about it he had finally just gotten used to seeing them as regular-sized people. It had taken until yesterday’s repeated laps around the medical ward to finally adjust him to the new perspective of distance.

 “That hadn’t occurred to me,” was all he could manage in reply to the medic, his body going cold a moment at the thought. “Thank you again, Devon.”

 Commander Martellis sighed quietly to himself, turning quickly to check on Henry and the Lance Corporal behind him before fixing his gaze back on the road. The barricade ahead as they turned the corner still sported the Duchess’ banners from yesterday, announcing the presence of the Noble Guard and potential Nobility on the grounds, and the privates stationed there on patrol stood in salute as the procession passed after starting the call of General on Approach.

 The sounds of the training grounds could reach them from the bottom of the turnoff, bustling and shouting bouncing through the nearby trees. As they came to the crest of the hill, Ais’lyn’s voice immediately snapped up the Commander’s attention.

 “We’ll need her to stay put until we get into position,” she said, turning to Martellis quickly. Melanie was near the half-way mark of the open field, heading in the direction of the facility. He nodded, maneuvering his horse out of the thick of the other riders and opening up into a gallop.

 He took in a deep breath, feeling the breeze against him as he rode until he had her full attention, holding his fist above his head in the signal for ‘hold’. She mimicked it back, her hand coming up to her chest instead of over her head with a smile, and she glanced down at her feet briefly before moving to a proper at-ease stance.

 Martellis smiled proudly, taking in the full sight of her in her dark-red coat again, slightly faded black pants tucked into boots that went half-way up her shins, a shimmering chocolate-brown blouse with gold buttons flowing lightly in the breeze. Below her, Chase had also come to a halt on one of the Watch’s stallions; they had been doing the horse-drills from yesterday, by his guess. Peter raised his hand in the hold position again, waving back and forth until Chase repeated the motion, and then turned to return to the procession as it continued toward the front of the facility.

 Henry was staring at her, the morning sun casting her shadow all the way to the trees at the back of the grounds, the greens of her hazel eyes sparkling as they followed the Commander. His mouth was agape, his heart pounding, and all he could do was watch in shocked silence as she stood there, towering.

 “Miller,” her voice carried over the ruckus of the grounds to them, scolding, as a man’s voice harshly called the same name, her eyes dropping to a horse that boldly ran straight between her legs as she stood. “Call for passes.”

 A distant shout carried back to them, evidently from the man who had done the stunt. “You were stopped!”

 “Still call the damn pass!” The man mounted next to Melanie’s feet shouted up the grounds, turning his horse to watch Miller continue on his run to the back. Another horse and rider, much more relaxed in their canter, called up on their own approach: “Passing against, on your right.”

 “Thank you, Jones,” her voice carried to him again as she turned to watch the rider with a warm smile. That familiar rasp, the strain of trying to keep herself quiet for other people, caused him to shudder. “Tell Miller if he gets thrown, I’ll tell Lionus not to treat him.”

 Henry’s body gasped for a breath he didn’t realize he was missing as she laughed, and he shook himself out of his stupor, grinning wildly. It was her. He was back with her. Looking at her felt right, in the midst of these small men and women.

 “Come now, dear,” Ais’lyn’s voice came gently from beside him as she approached on foot, having dismounted a moment ago. “Let’s get you to where you need to be.”

Chapter Text

 Melanie’s gaze turned back forward after watching Jones trot off toward her sleeping area for their shift-change, the large procession of men and women continuing up the road as the Commander disappeared behind the facility.

 “Miss!” Chase shouted up from beside her, getting her attention as he waved for her to lower herself. He backed the horse up carefully as she did, resting her arms across her bent knees as she squatted. “Looks like they’re going to stage a briefing, there was an Officer of the Forces with the General. Navy, looked to me.”

 “Guess that means I’ll be swimming laps?” She asked, smirking at him. Chase chuckled, shrugging with a free arm while his other hand held tight to the reins.

 “They might just be looking to have a gawk at you, Miss,” he replied, his eyes back on the procession around the facility. “We’ll see what the General decides to do with the situation, either way. She’s calling shots for now, is my guess.”

 Melanie’s eyes also scanned the procession from their position, a quiet whine leaving her. “More new faces to terrify today.”

 “They’ll come around quicker than you think,” Chase said, causing her to smile warmly.

 “I appreciate that, thank you Chase.”

 She stood up again into her at-ease position, shaking out her legs quickly as she looked back toward the facility. The forms of several people were now climbing to the highest tier of scaffolding on the right-hand side, near the stables, as the other transports from the barracks began unloading carts on the other side, near the road.

 “Will you be alright here if I ride over to see if there’s any instructions for us, Miss?” Chase called up. She nodded, giving a quiet affirmation before he kicked into his stirrups, galloping off toward the scaffolding.

 Her eyes closed as she took deep, meditative breaths, her mind racing. New people to worry about, an Officer she now had to impress, a massive amount of supplies being delivered. The only good news was that she could bother them for news about Henry. Maybe the Officer being here meant she would be cleared to travel to the barracks if she performed well enough. She cringed at the thought that she was about to walk up to the Officers and make a spectacle of herself trying to salute and maintain proper manners again. Should she try to speak properly? Would she just get another comment about her possible 'head trauma' if she did?

 She opened her eyes into the sun again as a hand idly came up to rub at the scab over her eyebrow. It was notably smaller today, the bits over the shallower end of the cut having flaked off in the night presumably, leaving hints of the smooth, scarred skin underneath. 

 Melanie's hands folded politely behind her back again as she watched for movement from Chase at the facility and it wasn't long at all before he was galloping back toward her, waving the signal for her to lower.

 "They want you to head over, at a walk. Stop a few steps out to salute the General and then you can head in to speak with them," he said to her as he brought the horse over. "I'll run back over to meet you there, just salute when I do and you'll be fine."

 She let out a relieved breath, "thank you so much, Chase, honestly."

 Chase smiled up to her and saluted, the giant woman putting her fist over her heart with a nod. "See you over there, Miss," he called, wheeling around to head back as she stood, taking another deep breath before starting a slow, careful walk.

 The eyes of the grounds were distinctly divided, the ones who had spent the last several days with her going about their tasks almost as though she was just another soldier, occasionally looking up to acknowledge her with a wave or adjusting their own tracks and work to not intersect with her path until after she had passed. The newer crew tending the carts were mostly stopping to stare, with some working frantically to distract themselves from her.

 Scanning over the crowd with an awkward smile to try and put them a little at ease, she immediately singled out the freckle-smeared face of Kendrick, his red hair catching the morning sun as he looked up from unloading one of the bundles of construction supplies. Her face lit up instantly with a bright smile, her hand moving for a quick, small wave as she whispered a happy "Hi, Kendrick!" to him.

 He beamed back at her, waving his hat over his head excitedly as the fresher soldiers around him seemed surprised, looking between the two of them in shock as the giant woman turned her head again to continue toward the scaffolding, feeling instantly better about the situation. If Kendrick was happy to see her, even after not seeing her since the beach, maybe this situation wouldn't be as rocky as she thought.

 Approaching the area where the General had all of the Officers and her Guard arranged for this briefing, Melanie darted her eyes to Chase who was still climbing the ramps to the top. She slowed her gait just slightly as she moved her eyes back to the General and tried to fix her posture to something that felt 'proper' for the situation, the woman's sparkling green irises flashing at her over a lopsided smile.

 Chase came into her periphery at the top of the ramp, walking toward the General at a militant march before stopping, Melanie doing the same as they snapped into salutes almost simultaneously. The line of Martellis, Grant and Lionus returned the gesture fluidly from behind the General, who grinned devilishly as she saluted Chase and turned, hand still in position to face the giant woman before her hand whipped back down to her side and then gracefully relaxing into the at-ease pose.

 "Good morning, Melanie," Ais'lyn called to her as she closed the last few steps toward the scaffolding, stopping about a full arm's length away to avoid frightening the Naval officer who was standing to the side, just in her periphery, staring at her.

 "Good morning, General Ais'lyn," she returned politely and quietly. The Naval officer fidgeted slightly as he leaned on a polished black cane, and she tried to turn her gaze slightly further away; she had put him out so much she noticed he never returned the salute, but at the same time she couldn't blame him. "Would you prefer I stand or kneel for our--"

 "Stay off your knee!" Lionus scolded, causing her to go slightly red in the face with an embarrassed smile, turning her eyes down as the General chuckled.

 "Sorry, Lionus," she mouthed before meeting the General's gaze again.

 "Standing would be optimal, though I appreciate the consideration," the General said, looking up slightly to match the gaze of the massive woman. With both of them standing, the top tier of scaffolding brought Ais'lyn's head to about level with the tip of Melanie's nose. "My apologies for not being here sooner, but I wanted to ensure today that you had an opportunity to eat, and there was much to prepare at the barracks."

 "Thank you, ma'am," Melanie replied with a warm smile.

 "As for the reason for this meeting," Ais'lyn began seriously, keeping one arm folded behind her back properly as she stepped closer to the scaffolding rail. "We'll be granting you most of the day off from any duties so that you can properly prepare your liaison for his future role in the upcoming discussions among the military and court representatives."

 Melanie's eyebrows raised as a surprised look crossed her massive features. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't realize I was meant to choose a Liaison by today." Her anxiety leapt, had she misinterpreted something from yesterday? Ais'lyn offered her a sympathetic smile, those jewel-like eyes sparkling up to her.

 "Ah, no, dear," she said gently. "I understand that we had offered you the option to choose your Liaison already, but unfortunately due to the strain already on the ranks across our combined divisions," she gestured between herself and Martellis, Melanie nodding faintly in acknowledgement, "we have had to choose one for you."

 The disappointment and concern was extremely clear on Melanie's face as she painted on a polite smile, nodding. "I understand, ma'am."

 "He's a volunteer, should that put you slightly more at comfort with the situation," Ais'lyn offered, a strange smile coming across her face. Melanie tried not to squirm, it felt like the General was simply saying what she thought the giant woman wanted to hear. In the corner of her eye the Naval officer slipped his cane awkwardly into a belt-loop and removed his hat, dropping it to his side and fidgeting it back and forth nervously. Ais'lyn gestured toward him as she continued, Melanie's eyes not leaving hers as she spoke. "He was heavily vetted, and we believe you'll approve. I personally feel he would be wonderful for the role."

 She steeled herself as she bowed her head toward the General, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. "Thank you, General," she said, finally turning to look at the man in the bright blue uniform, her eyes giving him a quick once over before landing on twinkling, blue-green irises that were locked intensely on her massive hazel orbs as she offered him the polite "and thank you kindly, sir."

 Her head moved to turn quickly away before she could offend him further, but her gaze didn't make it back to Ais'lyn before they snapped back, locking with those brilliant, shining eyes again and that laughing grin.

 She sucked in a breath, her arms shooting up from behind her, a hand coming to land on her face and pressing so hard against her mouth it looked like she was literally gripping her lips to keep them closed as Ais'lyn continued speaking.

 "You'll be given the day, as I said, to discuss duties and get him acquainted with your current situation here," Ais'lyn explained, examining the glove on her free hand as she pretended to ignore what was happening around her. 

 The giant eyes ripped themselves away from the ones they were trying to say a million, wordless things to, turning back to Ais'lyn and flashing briefly to Lionus who had cleared his throat loudly as he over-exaggeratedly adjusted his stance. Melanie's arms swept quickly back behind her as she nodded too-eagerly along with everything the General was saying.
 
 "You can both retire to your living area for now, should I or the Commander require anything of you we shall send for you. You're dismissed," the General's voice could no longer disguise the smile she was wearing as she looked back up to Melanie.

 "Thank you, General," she said as his voice said the same, and she swept in quickly as soon as Ais'lyn gave a wave with the back of her hand, turning to Henry as he walked to the railing.

 Henry stuck his unbroken arm out over the scaffolding, Melanie bringing her finger and thumb up to grab his hand gently as they grinned madly at each other, their expressions fluctuating wildly.

"Are you ok?" They asked, simultaneously, before laughing together and nodding.

"I'm fine," she said in a breathy whisper, bending down to be near his eye-level. "How's your arm?"

"Broken," he replied quickly, "the leg is just swollen. Have you eaten?"

She laughed, her eyes starting to water over her flushed cheeks as she nodded. "Yes, very well, have you?"

"Yes, yes," he laughed with relief, shaking his head before pulling her fingers up to press his forehead against them. Her anxiety evaporated; worries she hadn't even come to realize she had, had vanished from her completely. For a brief second they ignored everything else in the world, their hearts pounding loud enough to drown any other sound out.

"The shave is a surprise," she said after the moment had passed, releasing his hand as he moved his head back away to look up at her.

"It was for me as well, I didn't realize they were so intent on taking it all," he said, chuckling lightly as he touched his face.

"It'll be back by dinner, knowing you," she said jokingly.

"I'm not sure on that, I think they took several layers of skin. I may have never had a shave this close," he said.

She grinned at him, shaking her head before cocking it toward the back of the grounds. "I think we're supposed to be doing this elsewhere," she whispered, her eyes briefly glancing around to see everyone staring at them, for once completely unbothered by the sheer range of expressions.

"Ah," Henry said, genuinely surprised as he looked back around as well. "Right you are, then." His eyes landed on the open end of the scaffolding, just past the Duchess, the Commander, the Captain, and the Corporal as he started to walk toward it, her eyes following his direction.

"Is your leg ok for it?" She asked, worriedly.

"Yes," he said, reassuringly as he maneuvered between the arrangement of officials easily, his pain having melted away. The expressions across the lot of them were wildly varying; the General absolutely enthralled, Lionus laughing, the Captain stone-faced and on the verge of irritation, and Commander Martellis's warm, approving smile.

"Up or down?" She asked, also seemingly unable to see the other people around them while all of their faces contorted as they tried to figure out what was happening.

"Up," Henry replied, almost scolding in a tone indicating that that was the obvious answer to whichever question it was she had just asked. She stood back to her full height at his word, her eyes moving down and hands rapidly rearranging her coat as she buttoned it up, bringing one side of the coat over to the buttons on the opposite breast, causing the collar to stand up straight.

"Please strap in with your leg and arm like that," she whispered, concerned, as she finished fastening the buttons and two small clasps at the neck, and the gathered members below got view of the numerous loops, handles and straps that had been sewn onto the underside of her collar. She turned, walking to the edge of the scaffolding in one step as she smoothly slipped her right hand out to be level with the end of the walkway, not even looking as he stepped on.

All of the people they had been ignoring stared as Henry smoothly spun back around to face the General, saluting enthusiastically as her emerald eyes blazed over her enthralled smile. "Thank you, General," he said, before the hand lifted swiftly and smoothly up toward her shoulder, Henry turning and stepping off before it had even stopped moving, as if the motion was as natural to him as standing on solid ground.

Melanie kept her eyes on the ground briefly while she waited for the familiar feeling of Henry's feet sliding into two of the straps right at the top of her shoulder, his working hand reaching out and grabbing a large loop near the top of the collar, just by the bottom of her ear. She looked up to Ais'lyn with a smile that looked like it might never leave her face as she snapped into a salute of her own. "Thank you, all," she said, happily, her eyes sparkling behind tears that were still threatening to fall.

She turned, her eyes dropping to the ground to find the fastest, safest route for everyone involved, and as they traveled across the grounds she for once didn't care that every set of eyes was watching and staring. She could be all the spectacle in the world now; she had Henry back.

"Are your cuts healing alright?" Henry asked, concerned, directly next to her ear, and she let out a relieved breath to hear him like that again.

"Yes," she said softly, her gait long and pace quick. "I messed up the one on my knee a bit yesterday but it's still miles better than it was. Am I allowed to say you look amazing in the coat? Chase told me what it was."

Henry sighed, letting go of the loop briefly to gently stroke her temple. "We can talk about that when we sit down," he said gently, grabbing the loop again quickly.

"The color is gorgeous," she swooned, causing him to laugh in spite of his pride.

Behind them, the men and General still atop the scaffolding were watching the two strike off, chatting so naturally it made the entire affair seem almost normal.

"They," Ais'lyn stated, heavily weighing every word she spoke as she stared after them, "are incredible."
 
 “I feel that went very well,” Martellis said, letting out a long breath as he moved his view from the two of them back toward the General. Beside him, the Captain shuddered repeatedly, his icy stare still on Melanie and Henry.

 “Oh that was fabulous,” Ais’lyn gushed, clapping her hands together as Chase walked over to join them all, saluting again with a perplexed smile. The General whirled around to face Martellis, grinning like a loon. “You have an incredible set-up here, Commander. My Watch has been in extremely good hands, obviously.”

 “Thank you, General Ais’lyn,” he said, bowing respectfully. “Will you be returning--?”

 “No, I have to go yell at the soldiers some more,” she said, waving at him dismissively. “It’s been too long; everyone’s forgotten I’m something to be feared.” She laughed brightly, Martellis chuckling with a nod. 

“Of course, General, do you require my--?” He was waved off again, her face annoyed.

 “No, they just look at you for confirmation. Let me go scare them on my own,” she said, a round of saluting before she struck off, calling for her assistant. As she walked past where Henry had been staged to wait, she stooped to pick up his discarded hat with another laugh.

 Martellis removed his hat swiftly as she disappeared from view, tucking it under an arm while he wiped sweat off of his brow, Lionus and Chase doing the same.

 “Did anyone know about her coat?” Chase asked, sounding impressed as he glanced over his shoulder to the end of the grounds.

 “No, I hadn’t noticed anything when we had spoken the other morning while she was wearing it,” the Commander admitted, Lionus also shaking his head in response.

 “She never mentioned it, either,” Lionus said, still beaming. “I suppose the General will be wanting us to strategize drills with them, sooner than later.”

 The Captain made an audible noise of disgust, seemingly involuntarily, and the three other men turned to look at him in surprise. He shuddered again, finally breaking his eyes away. “Sorry,” he muttered. “But I’d rather we didn’t.”

 Chase made a face at him. “Sir,” he said, coaxingly. “That was impressive, no way to shake it.”

 “She’ll insist it be by volunteer only, if she lets it happen at all,” Lionus said to him, a bit more comforting than Chase’s reaction. “I suspect those were kept from us specifically because they weren’t meant for anyone but him.”

 Grant bristled, becoming irritated. “I don’t need the patronizing, Ethridge.”

 Lionus put his hands in the air in surrender, bowing his head. “Sorry, Captain, not my intention.”

 “The Corporal is right. You’re not going to be forced into it,” Martellis said, looking toward Daniel as the man shifted uncomfortably. “We can make Miller test it all first, besides,” he continued, dropping his voice as he looked around innocently.

 The Captain offered a reluctant chuckle with the rest of them as the Commander fixed his hat back on, gesturing for them all to head toward the ramps back down. As Chase and the Corporal turned to go first, Peter’s hand landed gently on Daniel’s shoulder. “The idea terrifies me completely,” he whispered. Daniel took in a deep breath, sighing with relief. At least he wasn’t the only one.

Chapter Text

 Henry shifted his weight slightly, leaning back with the help of the handle as he stretched his bad leg carefully. "They let you stay on the grounds, at least," he offered as they approached her hanging tarp; her bedroll and camping pillow still out on the ground under it.

 "They wouldn't let me be in the woods, I asked," Melanie admitted. "Didn't want to take up too much space, but they needed me visible from the facility. I get to have a roof though, that's nice. The scaffolding makes conversation easier, as well."
 
 "It's a lot of space for singing, if you've been doing any," he replied as he looked around. 

 "I have evacuated exactly zero dance floors, if that's the real question you’re asking," she retorted playfully, eliciting a laugh from him. "But no, no singing. Just talking."

 Henry smiled, tipping his weight back onto his bad leg briefly so he could lean his right shoulder against her cheek, her head tipping naturally back against him. "They told me you've been conversing quite a bit," he said, playfully suspicious. He felt the heat come off of her cheeks as she blushed, walking behind the nearest set of scaffolding by her area.

 "They didn't tell me anything about you, other than your injuries," she replied softly, deftly avoiding that conversation. "I'm glad at least you were getting some kind of updates on me."

 "I'll have you know," he offered sympathetically as they walked from the scaffolding toward the side of the tarp-roof of her sleeping area. "Every bit of news I got was after I irritated them into giving it to me, and they all said 'you're not supposed to know this' every time. Every bit of it." 

 Her familiar, odd-sounding chuckles made him grin from ear to ear. "I was under instruction from someone to be on my best behaviour, so unfortunately the only person I annoyed was the Captain."

 She spread her arms wide, jostling him lightly before he could respond as she gestured in front of them. "Ta-da," she sang melodically, "my home."

 He looked down at the sloping plastic roof, the bedroll, pillow and her drychest up beneath the highest end where they were standing, the lower end tied to posts he could see had been cemented into the ground. "Well," he offered, "it could've been worse."

 She laughed, bringing her arm across her chest and her hand up carefully against the front of her shoulder. "I'll finish the tour later by showing you the hole in the woods I've been shitting in," she said. He carefully slid his feet into her palm, moving fluidly with her to stand in her hand as she carefully ducked under the tarp. She grabbed her camping pillow, propping it up against her trunk as she slid onto the bedroll, Henry adjusting easily with the familiar shifts of direction and height.

 It felt so natural to have him with her again, it felt so normal. His weight so familiar, his movements so practiced and balanced, she hadn't realized she had missed them so much. It was also comforting to be able to touch someone, again, without feeling like some kind of monster.

Melanie kept her bad knee bent upwards as she moved to lay down, pressing her hand to her chest near her collarbone so that Henry could step off naturally as she changed her orientation. He took the cane from his belt loop and gently rested it on top of her thick coat, leaning slightly as she heaved a heavy breath.

 An arm came up to drape fully across her chest, and he backed up to sit on it casually, resting his joints. "How are you feeling?" He asked, soothingly, now that they had finally reached their destination.

 "Happy," she breathed, her head pressed back into the lumpy pillow, her eyes closed as tears slowly began to fall. "Relieved. Exhausted."

 He rubbed his good hand back and forth on her arm tenderly, smiling mostly to himself as he let his own tears leave his eyes silently. They sat in the quiet together for a moment, him rising and falling gently with her breathing. 

 “Can I talk about the coat now?” She pleaded softly after a minute, wiping her tears carefully. He sighed, standing up as she tipped her head forward again to look at him with a smile. “Please?”

 He spread his unbroken arm out in a wide gesture, his other arm still pinned in its sling beneath the buttoned coat. “Ta-da,” he drawled, deadpan as she laughed, sitting up a little more against the pillow as he adjusted his footing on her chest. 

 “It’s stunning, I’m serious,” she offered, her hand coming up to touch the tassels on his shoulder carefully, a finger sliding down his arm to the embroidered cuffs. “I know you told me that the Navy wore blue, but I didn’t think it was this blue.”

 “What blue were you--” he started, looking at her incredulously as his working arm started to slowly undo the buttons one-handed.

 “Navy blue,” she replied, her tone playfully annoyed. “It’s in the name.”

 The two laughed at each other as she tried to make him turn so she could see the tails on the back while he muttered in frustration at the buttons, finally getting to the last two. “The detailing is gorgeous," she breathed in admiration.

 “It’s technically a completely mixed up uniform,” he explained, shrugging the side of the coat with the empty sleeve back over his slung-shoulder as he let the coat slide, catching it about the neck and holding it out to her. “That’s a Captain’s coat, missing the rank symbols obviously, and this is an Admiral’s jerkin and pants, with the standard rank boots. The hat was also, though I may be misremembering this, a Lieutenant’s tricorner.”

 “Oooh,” she cooed in interest, taking the coat in her hands and leaning back again, staring up at it as she held it toward their crinkly ceiling. “Can I say it?”
 
 “No,” he said bluntly.

 “Please?” She asked sweetly, moving to hand him back the coat with one hand while the other arm carefully slid back behind him to become a seat again.

 He sighed, taking the coat and throwing it over her arm before sitting back down on it. “You can but please, don’t encourage it from anyone else here.”

 “It looks amazing on you,” she offered, delicately. “It brings out your eyes. Also, while I have permission, the hair is gorgeous.” He laughed, in spite of himself. “You really did look like an Officer. You fit right in with the Commander and the General. Sorry if that’s not something you’d like to hear, I imagine the whole ordeal was just extremely uncomfortable for you.”

"It made me feel significantly better to see you talking with the other people here so easily,” he said warmly, changing the topic smoothly. “I’m glad you’re getting along with them.”

 A short chuckle escaped her. “I’m scared shitless of them, actually,” she admitted. “They treat me very well, most of them, but I’m terrified of being close to them.”

 “How do you mean?” Henry asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

 “I’m back to being scared to death of how I look,” she whispered after a moment of thought. “Everytime I see a new face I’m just reminded that I’m horrifying, and as they get comfortable with me I just feel more scared that I’ll fuck it up by touching them or something.”

 “Ah,” Henry offered, as he heard a noise from behind. He twisted to look over his shoulder as she adjusted herself while fidgeting uncomfortably at the thought, and he met eyes with two men standing by a small fire pit just past the end of her outstretched foot, one of them holding the other-- who seemed extremely concerned by the conversation-- back. Henry tilted his head in confusion before seeing the two horses he watched ride past her on his entrance to the grounds tied nearby, and then nodded to the men with a finger to his lips. “They don’t seem to treat you as horrifying, from what I’ve seen,” he continued gently, turning back to watch her.

 “No, almost everyone here is at least desensitized to me by now, which has been a relief; the less I get stared at, the less terrible I feel. A lot of the men have been incredibly nice to me. Wells and Jones are two of my assigned lieutenants, they’re fantastic. Took a little bit, but they both treat me like a person now.” Melanie relaxed a bit more as she spoke, bringing her free hand up to rest her fingers against Henry’s side and back gently. “Chase took a bit longer to come around but he’s been taking amazing care of me today and yesterday with the Duchess. We practiced salutes this morning to make sure I was ready; he was the one with me at the facility earlier.”

 Henry smiled, patting the top of her thumb comfortingly as she rested it across his lap delicately. She smiled, laughing lightly as she continued. “Lionus I’ve actually lifted a few times now, but it felt more appropriate given he’s a Doctor, if that makes sense? There’s a great lieutenant, Edmund. Miller is his last name. He’s been incredible. He treated me like a person so quickly I was worried his eyes didn’t work.”

 Her eyes went wide as suddenly sound came from up near her feet; Jones laughing loudly and Miller shouting a hurt ‘Ma’am!’ toward her.

 “The arm!” Henry called in a panic to remind her as her hand squeezed gently around him, snaking under his good arm as she lifted him carefully, bolting upright. She put her other hand beneath his feet as she offered him quick apologies, checking him over to make sure she hadn’t done any damage.

 Henry’s coat slid from her arm to her lap as she hauled her feet in underneath her, her face a brilliant shade of red as she leaned forward toward the Lieutenants, carefully sliding her hand onto the ground as Henry stepped off with a wave.

 “I am so sorry,” she said to Miller and Jones, her heart in her throat, “I completely forgot the shift-change happened.”

 Jones was still chuckling himself out as he approached Henry to shake his hand. “It’s alright, ma’am,” he said. “You must be Henry then, sir, absolute honour and pleasure.”

 “Henry Lemuels, at your service,” the smooth greeting came.

 “Second Lieutenant Gregory Jones, at yours,” came the practiced, elegant reply.

 “Second Lieutenant Edmund Miller,” came the bold and bullish interjection as the broad-chested man jutted his own hand out toward Henry. “Who has working eyes and is the bravest man in the troops, as someone needs to be constantly reminded of.”

 Melanie laughed into the back of her hand, her face still flushed as Henry laughed as well, shaking Miller’s hand firmly. “Sorry, boss,” she offered by way of apology as she took the coat off of her lap and placed it carefully at the end of the bedroll. She adjusted her position, lying on her stomach to face the three of them.

 “Can’t believe my own second-in-command would slander me like that,” Miller admonished her with an over-dramatic sigh and shake of his head.

 “If this has something to do with a coup, I’d like to be granted plausible deniability,” Henry said with a hint of worry, sitting back without looking as he heard her hand sliding up on the ground behind him to offer a seat. 

 The giant woman tried not to squirm as Miller and Jones both took a second to stare at Henry's casual contact with her, glancing at the area distractedly as she spoke. "We've started our own Brigade, actually. Miller let me be second."

 Jones sighed as he rolled his eyes, Miller puffing his chest out proudly. "Brave soldiers only. We're calling it the Idiot Brigade."

 Henry turned to look back at her, an expression that screamed 'really?' all over his face. "I left you alone for three days," he started and she raised her other hand in innocence, interrupting him quickly.

 "Technically the name was decided while you and I were both still on the beach," she said defensively. "You may have been drugged by then, I can't remember."

 "If it makes you feel better, sir," Jones said with a sincere tone of condolence, "the Commander did immediately send him out to sea for that one."

 Miller gave an offended 'hey' as he turned on Jones, Melanie looking surprised. "Oh, I had completely forgotten. I'm so sorry, Miller, I never did apologize for getting you in trouble."

 "It wasn't you," he and Jones replied in stereo, both turning to face her again. "I'm a bit known for breaking decorum, ma'am," he finished with a lopsided grin.

 Henry sighed, carefully slipping his cast-covered arm out of the sling and stretching his elbow slowly. "I shouldn't be this surprised that this is the kind of camaraderie you've been finding," he said with a gentle laugh. "Thank you both for taking care of her, she's a handful."

 “Happy to do it, sir,” Jones said warmly, saluting him, Henry saluting back from his seat.

 “Will you be transferring from the Navy to the Watch, sir?” Miller asked curiously.

 “Oh,” Henry grimaced, adjusting the cuff of one of his puffy sleeves awkwardly. “I am… not actually enlisted. They got me the uniform for today’s little stunt, I believe.”

 “Are you being enlisted to us, then?” Miller asked, his eyes going wide and a distinct tone of hope or desperation in the question.

 “I think I’m being enlisted to her,” Henry offered gently, cocking his head back toward Melanie as his free hand patted the top of her hand gently. “All I’ve been told so far is that I’m to be her official intermediary.”

 Miller seemed disheartened by the reply, but nodded understandingly as Melanie smiled warmly toward Henry. “We were given the morning off so I could run him through everything he needs to know.”
 
 “Oh,” Jones seemed genuinely surprised. “Does that mean we aren’t supposed to be here?” Melanie and Henry both shrugged at him simultaneously.

 “I’m not sure. I don’t want to send you away though in case it gets you in trouble, I know I’m supposed to be being watched still.” She looked out over the tops of everyone’s heads, scanning toward the facility but seeing nothing past the ongoing construction and training drills in the farther half.

 “We can run cavalry drills while you both chat, ma’am,” Miller offered, gesturing toward the horses that were tied up nearby. “We can use rotating the horses as an excuse to see if we’re supposed to be under any other orders.”

 “Good man, Miller,” Henry said with a grin. “That sounds like it would work.”

 Jones nodded, his head tipping from side to side as if reluctant to agree to that sentiment. “We can do that. I’ll head down first, you stay here and work on dressage.”

 Miller groaned as they both turned to head toward the horses, “Why dressage?”

 “Looks impressive to the brass,” Henry said, surprising the other three. “Good for if you ever want to go through Academy or get promoted. Nobility and Royalty both love fancy horse-walks.”

 Melanie and Jones grinned at each other as Miller seemed to suddenly become much more interested in the drills, the giant woman waving to the Lieutenants as they struck off from under the tarp.

 “They’re charming,” Henry said sincerely as he stood up and nudged her hand with a foot gently, her palm reflexively flipping over for him to step onto as she sat back up and moved herself to the back of her little no-walled tent again.

 “Aren’t they though?” She gushed in a whisper, picking up his coat once more before sliding herself back to her camping pillow, laying down again. Henry lay back in her palm, his head resting on the heel of her hand as she brought it to rest next to her head, and the two of them heaved long sighs.

 “I honestly can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’ve been able to socialize,” Henry said quietly.

 “I was worried you’d be upset I’d been talking so much,” she admitted with a faint smile, turning to look at him.

 “I am a bit worried about what you and Peter may have talked about the other day,” he said, his voice getting a bit more serious. “Specifically because you told him not to tell me,” he continued as she opened her mouth to try and spout a defense.

 She frowned, letting her head tip back so she could stare at the ceiling. “I needed to tell someone how I was feeling,” she offered after a moment. Henry’s good hand crossed over his body to rest on the tip of her thumb, rubbing it consolingly as she continued. “It… was reminding me a lot of the time at the start, after I met you. I’d make progress with having people treat me like a person and not stare at me like a monster, and then someone new would see me and it would start over.”

 Henry squeezed her thumb gently, nodding. “One of my handlers mentioned they were going to give me some extra time this morning when we arrived so I could ‘readjust’ to you,” he said with a sigh. “The memories hadn’t come back to me until that moment about how it was at the start. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with those feelings again, and I’m still sorry--”

 “Don’t apologize,” she breathed gently, “it was natural and normal and I understand.”

 “I’m still going to apologize for it,” he said, stubbornly, and she chuckled. “I know you don’t blame them for it, and I know that not all of them will come around as well as either of us want and that you’ll understand that. But I understand how it hurts you and I feel that now.”

 “You’re going to make me cry,” she said softly. “When did you become so empathetic?”

 “Learned it from a crazy woman,” he said, teasingly, both of them laughing. “Now, what am I going to need to know for this job I’ve been signed up for?”

 “I want to work with the Watch,” she said, her eyes going wide as if suddenly remembering the entire point of them being allowed to spend time together. “I don’t care where anyone else wants me, fight for the Watch. They’re good people and they deserve me to make up for all the trouble I’m causing.”

 “Noted,” he said, nodding along.

 “Can I request you keep the uniform?” She asked.

 “No,” he said, as if gently letting down a child. She sighed. “We’re supposed to be focusing on your needs now, by the way,” he reminded her.

 “Ais’lyn said she was going to push for us to have our own little… regiment? Troop? Something? Out of the Watch and Guard members, so this is part of my needs. If a discussion comes up for uniforms, ask for a custom, I guess, if it won’t be too expensive. I’m going to be very expensive,” she said, moving on swiftly. “Purple would be too expensive a colour--”

 “I’m not going to wear purple,” Henry interjected smoothly, lifting a finger in the air before returning to rubbing her thumb tenderly. 

 “Blues it is. Or dark-red, maybe brown. Are dark blues taken? I’m shocked the Navy doesn’t wear dark blue, every navy I’ve seen wears dark blue.”

 “Dark blues, from my recollection, are not used aside from accent and rank garments, like the vest,” he admitted. “I’ll see what I can draft up.”

 “Thank you,” she said warmly, smiling. “Will you wear a hat?”

 “Only officers wear hats.”

 “You’d be an officer,” she stressed. “Can it be like the hat you--”

 “That was a Navy hat,” he stated firmly.

 “Right,” she said, frowning. “It looked really good though. It made me think of pirates.”

 “That makes me feel less negatively toward it, but still not sold on the idea.”

 “So an officer’s hat, like the Commander and Captain?” She asked.

 He hummed thoughtfully, obviously not keen on that option either. “I’ll think about hats,” he said, dodging the question. “Anything else for you?” He stressed the reminder again, making her smirk.

 “As much as possible, and I told Ais’lyn this--”

 “She’s a General or a Duchess, please remember that,” Henry sighed with concern.

 “I will!” Melanie said defensively. “She told me to call her Ais’lyn when we’re chatting away from the officers. Anyway, I told her this as well, but try to stress that anyone who has to work with me either in the brigade or otherwise, does so by volunteer or with some kind of consent.”

 “I was going to suggest that if you hadn’t yet, that’s good. How about food?”

 “I think I’m doing well on food, but there’s been some comments that I’m not eating as much as they think I should be, but I feel that’s just because they’re men,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve been under stress, so there’s a chance my appetite will come back a bit more now, but Fuller has been feeding me very well and the food just… feels different, here. It feels heavy.”

 Henry grinned, turning carefully to face her while trying not to put too much of his weight on his broken left arm. “There’s something about it, hey?”

 She smirked at him, mocking his accent slightly. “Speak proper, there’s officials around.”

 He laughed, falling onto his back again. “I learned it from you.”

 “Good,” she said, playfully, before moving on again. “So food should be good, but if it can help the Watch out any, maybe suggest more so it can be spread around. Covertly, of course.”

 “You really do like them, then?” Henry asked lightly.

 “I really do,” she said warmly. 

 “Food, noted,” he said, adjusting his feet down near her fingertips, his bad leg starting to ache slightly. “What else?”

 “General’s going to work on accommodations being built, but before that we really need to get to Swift and see how she’s doing,” the large woman whispered with concern. “Also to get out anything that didn’t wash up. Did they let you see what’s at the barracks?”

 “No, I didn’t even think to ask,” Henry said, his voice filled with surprise at the realization.

 “Why didn’t you ask?” Melanie asked, turning to look at him with a furrowed brow.

 “They told me I was going to see you finally, I didn’t really care about much else,” he admitted in a murmur. She blushed, smiling appreciatively.

 “...That’s a good excuse, then,” she breathed. A quiet moment passed between before she turned her head back up to the tarp ceiling. “How does it feel to be home?”

 Her question was soft, gentle, genuinely curious. There wasn’t anything suspicious or suspecting in it; she clearly just wanted to know how he felt, so why did it feel like that question put a lead weight directly on top of his chest?

 “I don’t know,” he managed to say after an awkwardly long pause. “It was… laughable, to be around them all in the hospital ward. When they were leaning over me on the beach, it didn’t look all that different, but they were like toys; it was all like toys when I was finally indoors.”

 “I had finally just gotten used to them,” he continued, staring up at the tarp and frowning, “and then I saw you again, and after being made to worry that I’d have to readjust to your size… that wasn’t the problem at all. They’re all small again. I just feel less awkward about it while I’m with you.”

 “Oh,” she said, her eyes widening as she turned her head to look at him, surprised.

 “I actually felt extremely claustrophobic around them,” he admitted, chuckling almost darkly to himself as his hand came up to loosen the lace around his collar, the heat of the day finally starting to build. “Having Peter, Daniel and Lionus in the room at the same time as me felt almost suffocating. I just didn’t feel like I could fit comfortably.”

 She held her hand still as she rolled carefully onto her side, bringing her other hand up to gently stroke his hair with a finger. He closed his eyes, the feeling calming him. “It sounds rough,” she offered. “I’m sorry that I’ve made that adjustment that much harder for you.”

 He shook his head, yawning. “It will come with time,” he said. “I’d rather it be harder for me to adjust to them than to have to feel strange around you.”

 She continued stroking his hair delicately, enjoying their quiet moment together before speaking again. “So can I call you ‘Big Guy’?”

 “Absolutely not,” he stated firmly, causing her to giggle. “Anything else for my job?”

 “I can’t think of anything immediately,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe my confiscated items, but it can wait until I can think of something we’d need out of them. What do you need?”

 “Nothing,” he said, too quickly to have thought about it.

 “Stuff from the boat, stuff from the wreckage,” Melanie started listing vaguely, wiggling her hand to jostle him very lightly in emphasis. He sighed, yawning again as she finished stroking his hair and rolled onto her back once more.

 “I’d like to be put in charge of your finances, if nothing else,” he said.

 “My debts?” She asked, skeptically, closing her eyes.

 “No, you’ll be getting paid,” he explained. “When they vaguely mentioned I was becoming your liaison, that was the first thing I thought of, so I’d like to be in charge of your income and spending outside of what the brass will need for expenses.”

 “Yes, please,” she said with a relieved sigh. “There was a time I cared about doing my own accounting, and then it died many many years ago. Will I be getting an allowance?”

 “Only if you do your chores,” he teased.

 “Oh, chores,” she said, suddenly remembering something. “Will we get to take leave at your house?”

 Henry flinched, leaning up suddenly to look for Miller’s location. Melanie’s head turned to stare at him curiously. “I… may not have one,” he whispered, softly. “Do not repeat this.”

 Her brow furrowed and she dropped to a breathy whisper. “What happened to it? The estate was supposed to stay in your name, yes?”

 He frowned, looking at her awkwardly as he fidgeted. “After a certain amount of time, the bank and courts declare you dead and your estate is forfeit, with a compensatory amount of the value tucked aside for any lost relatives or--”

 “It’s been less than two years, and you’re a sailor,” she interrupted, offended.

 Henry’s eyes, sparkling like the ocean on a sunny day, locked with her massive hazel orbs over an expression that seemed serious, concerned, almost scared in a way. “I was gone less than two years, yes,” he started, slowly, glancing again to make sure Miller was nowhere near, “but… I’ve apparently been gone over four.”

 Two massive brows tried desperately to become one as she stared at him in confusion, and he simply continued to stare while he waited for her mind to piece it together. Slowly her expression moved to that of open-mouthed shock, her free hand coming up to rest across her lips.

 “Don’t--” he started, worriedly as she breathed out a phrase.

 “Temporal distortion!” Her eyes drifted past him into the trees, a wild variety of expressions washing over her features in silence. “But… that’s going the opposite…”

 He shook his head, frowning. “I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

 She frowned, nodding, “I’ll try not to think too much about it, it’s not… it doesn’t actually matter, but…” Her voice trailed off faintly.

 “I’m not sure if they did go through all of the proper procedure to have me declared dead and the like,” he said, turning the conversation back around. “It sometimes takes the full five to get the process even started, from what I recall, but I’ll need to look into it once I’m free to speak with bankers and see about the properties. My boat should still be mine, but it may have been rotting away if the marina decided to ignore it. For now, however, you and I were together the same amount of time, but I’ve mentioned to the Duke that I was shipwrecked elsewhere with the crew for an unspecified amount of time before that.”

 She nodded, “got it.”

 A long silence passed them by before Henry spoke again. “...If I still have it, though, yes; I’ll ask about us taking leave at my estate.”

 A warm smile crossed her features, and she pushed the other thoughts from her mind for the time being. “I’d like that.”

 Over the next two hours they continued to chat, splitting their time in chunks between resting beneath the tarp for relief from the sun, and Melanie stretching her legs as she wandered around in her area. They did some basic measuring, the large woman determining that if she were to get her tent, it would need to go at least partially back into the treeline to be pegged-down properly without interfering with the flow of traffic to the scaffolding.

 Jones had returned with no change in duties or orders from the brass, only the vague suggestion for himself and Miller to ‘give them the space they need’, which she and Henry both shrugged at. Miller went to rotate for a fresher horse and they began running through the basic drills they had come up with yesterday while Henry rode seated on her shoulder as they chatted, pacing back and forth. 

 “I’m impressed you can hear them while standing,” Henry commented as she stopped to eavesdrop on Jones and Miller discussing what passes to attempt next.

 “It’s so quiet here,” she whispered softly to him, turning and starting to walk again as the Lieutenants practiced matching her pace on either side.

 “It is. Upsettingly so, at times,” he admitted. “Now you have no excuse to not listen to me, however.”

 She smirked, sighing. “It’s endearing that you think I’ll need an excuse.”

 “Ma’am!” Miller shouted as they finished another back and forth across the end of the grounds, he and Jones moving to tie the horses up at one of the farther posts. Henry moved to her hand as she squatted to speak with Edmund, stepping off to be at ground-level with the Lieutenants.

 Edmund watched with excited eyes as Henry dismounted, Melanie’s hand flipping over to rest on the ground. She tipped her head curiously at him as he looked back up at her. “That’s eleven horses we’ve gotten through the drills since yesterday!” He said proudly, and she grinned happily back.

 “Fantastic!” She whispered encouragingly.

 “Do you think it would impress the brass if we moved on to practicing…” he seemed to stall, becoming uncharacteristically speechless for a second as he pondered. Melanie and Henry both looked at him curiously, the large woman becoming concerned; Miller running out of words wasn’t something she thought was possible.

 A wave of oppressive heat came over her and she could tell her face was an alarming shade of red suddenly as Miller seemed to give up on trying to puzzle out a phrase and just gestured, broadly, at her hand.

 “Did the brass say anything about those kinds of drills?” Henry asked after checking her reaction, trying to buy her some time to find an appropriate response. Miller tore his eyes away from her face to address Henry, seeming confused by the reaction.

 “No sir, I was just assuming…” he said, his voice dropping. “Sorry if it’s an imposition, or anything, I didn’t mean--”

 “No, Miller, it’s ok,” Melanie whispered quickly, shaking her head, her eyes darting to anything but the men in front of her. Henry jumped in quickly, turning to address her.

 “You seem warm, I think the coat’s been on too long,” he said clearly as he took the cane out of his belt loop, leaning on it heavily. “Probably a good time to go put it with your things and maybe cool down a little.”

 She nodded, standing swiftly and stepping backwards a few times as her hands went to start undoing the clasps and buttons. Miller watched her turn and stride away toward her bed, a look of shame on his features as Henry smiled gently at him. “She’s just uncomfortable at the moment, Miller,” he explained gently.

 “I know, sir,” Edmund offered, disappointedly. “Heard her talking earlier, thought it’d put her at ease if I asked instead of it coming down to orders or the like.”

 Henry’s eyebrows raised in surprise and admiration. “That’s extremely thoughtful of you, honestly,” he said in praise, the Lieutenant flashing a smile briefly. “I’ll talk to her and see if I can warm her up to the idea a bit more before it comes down to orders, like you said, but just be patient with her for now.”

 “Yes, sir,” Miller replied, his mood improving slightly. “It must’ve taken you a long time to get her used to you.”

 Henry dropped his eyes to the ground, fidgeting his broken arm awkwardly. “It… wasn’t quite the way you think,” he started quietly, turning to make sure she was still far enough away. “I believe I’m to blame for how reluctant she is now. She had little hesitation when we were first becoming acquainted, I was the one whose reluctance caused problems.”

 “I can promise Miller doesn’t bite,” Jones offered, walking closer to the two men, causing Henry to chuckle softly.

 “I think it’s the crowding that’s getting to her more than anything,” Henry replied. “She’s not used to being around nearly this many people at once. She’s definitely more comfortable with the two of you, but that might be why she’s as nervous as she is about overstepping your comfort.”

 “Anything we can do to help her with that?” Jones asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

 Henry hummed thoughtfully, turning to watch her. “Don’t… make a show of it,” he drawled slowly, “but if you get the opportunity, just touch her sometimes. Bump into her, lay a hand on her, something like that. Just something brief, and act like you don’t care about it or notice.”

 “Oh,” Miller exclaimed, grinning widely. “I can manage that.”

 “If you’re nervous about it at all, don’t try. If she thinks you’re uncomfortable it’ll just upset her,” the sailor said with a soft sigh. “She can be very reactive. I didn’t tell either of you this, by the way.” The Lieutenants nodded their understanding as he waved the handle of the cane between them both.

 The first call of the lunch horn blew its way to them from across the field, and the three men turned to watch as the construction efforts and training groups past the half-way point started sending shifts to the mess hall.

 “It’ll be a crowded one, today,” Jones said with a frown. “Poor Fuller’ll be run ragged.”

 “I’ll take one of the horses down to find the rest of the Brigade and tell them to hold off until last call with us,” Miller suggested, jabbing a thumb toward their mounts. “The young ones and the newbies should be done by then so Ma’am won’t need to be too worried about them.”

 “Yes,” Jones said, nodding. “Tell the Commander and Fuller while you’re out, too, that our plan is to wait until last in case they get worried.”

 Miller grinned, saluting Henry quickly and then waving in large arcs over his head to the giant woman, who had turned at the sound of the horn while she was still sorting things in the trunk. She smiled, awkwardly but with genuine warmth, and waved back at him.
 
 Melanie’s eyes turned back to the dry-chest, her cheeks still flushed. She had taken out her large towel from the other day, and was busy trying to see if it would wrap around all of the dirty clothes and a bottle of detergent, her clothes from the shipwreck starting to smell. She was also running low on fresh clothes to wear. A frown crossed her face as she realized one of the bigger concerns for her was having to deal with Devon if she couldn’t get to the pond to wash everything.

 It was a lumpy mess, but she had managed to bundle everything together in the dirty towel, and quickly took out the second, clean towel to wrap around a face cloth and some soaps for herself. When she was finally satisfied with her work, she turned to see Henry slowly making his way toward her, Jones having mounted his horse again to start working on his dressage in the clear field.

 Her hands dug feverishly through the pockets of her coat as she lifted it from the ground, finding a long yellow ribbon tucked away in one of the inner pouches.

 Henry smiled as she walked toward him, the yellow ribbon wrapped around her neck and tied in a familiar bow, its wrinkled and fraying tails drifting delicately in the breeze as she moved.

 “They aren’t upset,” Henry said before she could ask, the worry all over her face as he stepped into her palm. “I’ve been assured that Miller doesn’t bite, either,” he offered gently with a laugh as she placed him back on her shoulder, his hand gripping the ribbon.

 Her body heaved underneath him with a sigh, and he felt her nod. “I wasn’t expecting it, which was my fault because of course Edmund would be bold enough,” she breathed quietly, turning back toward her piles of things. “What’s the verdict on lunch?”

 “Miller’s gone to tell the parties that need to know that we’ll all be heading to eat for last call, to avoid the crowd with so many here,” Henry explained.

 “Oh, I definitely like that idea,” she said. “Gives us an extra hour-ish. Not enough time to see if I could take you to the pond so I could maybe wash my laundry and maybe clean a little, but we could find something to do.”

 “Let’s just relax for a while,” he said with a yawn.

 “Alright,” she said gently, a warm smile crossing her face as she grabbed her sun hat.

Chapter Text

 “They don’t exactly look very engaged with their task,” Daniel said, skeptically, as he and Peter slowly rode their way across the grounds after the second call for lunch had sounded.

 “The General technically gave them the day off,” the Commander replied to the Captain, tugging at the neck of his uniform to release some heat from his body. The mid-day sun was sweltering today, and there was no relief out in the open field.

 The two men had decided to get a short break from the General’s exciting day of being in charge of the Watch once more by trekking out to escort Melanie and Henry back to the mess-hall in time for the third and final call for lunch, and it would also give them a moment to check on the two of them in relative quiet and privacy beforehand. As they trotted toward her staging area, they had easily noticed the giant woman sitting and leaning against one of the broader trees just at the back, an enormous hat casting a deep shadow all down her front.

 Martellis had thought initially that perhaps Melanie and Henry had moved their discussions to a more open place to better take advantage of a cool breeze, but Captain Grant pointed out almost immediately that she seemed to be asleep.

 As they crossed over the half-way point of the field, they had both watched as Jones and Miller spotted them, Jones cantering over to shout their approach to the giant woman.

 “Oh lord,” Daniel muttered, shivering as the two watched Melanie wake up from a doze, yawning into the back of her hand as the figure of who could only be Henry suddenly sat up from against her neck, hidden in the shade of her hat as he had laid across the top of her shoulder, his legs dangling over either side.

 “They had almost two years,” Peter offered softly in reminder to the Captain and friend beside him. “He makes it seem natural.”

 “I will say that when he’s standing on her shoulder, it’s less disgusting to me,” Daniel said bluntly, almost irritably. 

 “Disgusting is a strong word,” Peter retorted with a hint of concern. 

 “Did you not find her hands horrifying when she grabbed you on the beach?” Grant replied, genuinely surprised.

 “She didn’t grab,” Peter muttered, though feeling uncomfortable at the memory either way. “I will be honest with you, I didn’t have much time to think about it.”

 Daniel shuddered, shaking his head briefly before he turned to look at Martellis as they continued their approach. “I hated the feeling of them,” he said, tersely. “It felt wrong to stand on, at one point I touched one of her fingers and I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of the memory of it. Warm and with a strange texture, moving… ugh.”

 “It was a shock but I didn’t find it that awful, personally,” Peter explained after mulling over Daniel’s description for a moment. “I think what makes me more comfortable about the two of them,” he continued, nodding toward the giant woman and her massive hat, “is that there seems to be mutual control. He called all the directions earlier, from what I recall.”
 
 “Good for him,” Daniel said venomously.

 “Captain,” Peter stressed lightly, reminding him of his place. He held his fist over his head to signal Melanie to stay seated and she repeated the motion back, saying something just out of his hearing range to Henry, who was stretching in their self-made shade.

 The officers handed their horses off to Jones and Miller and approached as Melanie removed her hat, Henry already having been transferred to the ground to speak with them. 

 “Good afternoon Commander, Captain,” she said with a happy smile.

 “Afternoon,” the Commander replied with a warm smile of his own, nodding up to her before glancing between herself and Henry. “Has your morning gone well?”

 “We covered a lot of points for the role I’ve been assigned,” Henry offered, nodding as he leaned on his cane. “The Lieutenants are up to eleven horses who’ve completed drills with her now, and I think we’re planning to go to the pond to do her laundry after lunch, but she mentioned needing to run that by Her Grace.”

 “Yes, the Guard are entering rotation with your assigned Lieutenants as of Wells’ next shift,” Martellis said, inclining his head to her. “The General should be taking lunch at the same time as all of us, as well. She’s been… busy.”

 “Excellent,” Melanie said, her eyes glancing out across the grounds to the facility. “What are the new construction projects--?”

 “The General will explain that when they’re completed,” Grant said bluntly, cutting off her question.

 “We hope,” Martellis added tiredly, taking off his hat and turning to Grant, who did the same. The giant woman’s eyes narrowed in confusion slightly as she glanced between them both, trying to puzzle out the significance of hats, still. “Did either of you have any questions that we could answer regarding your roles, now?”

 “I’d like a bit of clarification as to where and how I’m being assigned, just for the sake of the details,” Henry offered with a smirk.

 “To her,” Grant retorted, unamused. “So you’ll be under whatever Command she’s under, which for now is the Watch.” Melanie fidgeted uncomfortably in response to the Captain’s attitude, shifting one of her legs to rest on the ground, bent in front of the other. 

 “So I’ll be moved to the Training Grounds for the time being,” Henry countered, unphased by Daniel’s tone and expression as he glanced behind him and took a few steps backwards to sit on Melanie’s boot near her ankle, resting his leg with a quiet sigh.

 Daniel went notably paler, his mouth setting firmly as his eyes looked away from the casual contact between the odd pair, Peter looking briefly but seeming unperturbed. “You’ll be stationed where she is, yes. We should hear in the next few days if there will be a chance you could relocate closer to barracks, Melanie, but for now the Training Grounds seems like it will be your home for a bit longer.”

 “This is fine, it’s beautiful here,” she said with a kind smile, glancing around the area. “A bit busier today, but I enjoy how quiet it is.”

 “I’m unsure what the General intends to have happen for this weekend; typically the Training Grounds empty this evening and everyone returns to barracks or home,” the Commander sighed, turning toward Daniel and frowning in surprise as he saw the Captain was looking anywhere but forward.

 “What would’ve been your initial call had she not decided to step back into duty?” Henry asked.

 “Send the trainees off, perhaps request for Fuller to remain on with either double-pay or a double relief next week, keep the Lieutenants on here and essentially run a skeleton crew,” he responded, a bit too lax for Daniel’s comfort, evidently. “I would’ve likely requested the Captain or the Staff Sergeant to take over duties at the barracks until Monday and relocate myself here so we could have a few days off-duty to strategize.”

 “That would’ve been nice,” Melanie offered thoughtfully with a sigh. “This construction doesn’t look like it’ll be finished today, however.”

 “No, it really doesn’t,” Martellis said, turning back to look at it and catching Daniel’s intense stare.

 “Commander,” the Captain whispered quietly.
 
 “I can spend as much time as everyone would be comfortable with helping them, maybe we can speed it up enough that everyone can get a day or two break from me,” she offered.
 
 “That would come down to the decision of the construction teams, at current,” Daniel stated bluntly to her, the two of them locking eyes.
 
 “Yes, Captain,” she said, flatly, “hence the caveat regarding comfort.”

 “Comfort isn’t the primary concern here,” the Captain sighed, his shoulders getting tense. Henry’s eyes moved to stare aggressively at Daniel, sensing a fight about to start, but Martellis gestured for the sailor to approach him as he took a few steps forward. “It’s to do with protocol and safety.”

 “Let them do this a moment,” Peter whispered to Henry as the two others bantered back and forth above and around them. “I need you to stress to Melanie to… take it lightly, when it comes to duties that would display her strength, at all.”

 Henry’s blue-green eyes and Peter’s dark brown ones kept each other’s focus for a moment before Henry nodded. “Has there been concern?” He breathed in question, glancing to make sure neither Grant nor Melanie were paying any attention to them, and also to make sure that the two Lieutenants hadn’t decided to rejoin them.

 “She aided in some construction efforts the other day, mostly fixing those posts in place for her roof, and it… caused a buzz. We’re keeping it out of the minds of the other branches as much as we’re able to,” Peter explained quietly. Henry’s good arm moved out to rest on Peter’s forearm.

 “Thank you, Peter,” he whispered, appreciatively. “I think we have the same goals in mind, it’s… refreshing.”

 The two men smiled at each other before turning back toward the other two’s conversation.

 “I’m not trying to argue with you, Captain” Melanie was sighing defensively, bringing an arm up to rest across the top of her knee as she gestured annoyedly with her hand. “It’s just a different phrase.”

 “It isn’t a different phrase, it’s an incorrect phrase, and you’ll accept being corrected by an officer,” the Captain snapped tersely back. They were both extremely tense, the two noticeably restraining themselves to try and follow the Commander’s orders from their last spat.

 “Yes, sir, my apologies for my diction,” she managed bluntly. “In that case, should protocol allow it, I’d like to help with the construction efforts in the hopes it could afford you a few days of rest.”

 “Thank you,” he said, sharply, their eyes never leaving the other’s.

 “The Captain and I shall discuss with the construction team and the General and see if that would be possible, Melanie,” the Commander said clearly, walking back toward Grant as Henry moved toward her again, leaning against the knee she had lying on the ground. “I doubt anyone will be resting this weekend, however, but the thought is appreciated.”

 The large woman’s eyes broke from the Captain’s first, moving to the Commander with a small smile of relief. She was opening her mouth to speak when the horn for final lunch call sounded, getting all of their attention quickly.

 “Sirs!” The booming voice of Miller called to them as he and Jones rode back, each holding the reins of another horse. Martellis and Grant slipped their hats back on, Henry tapping Melanie’s knee and tapping his shoulder twice as she looked at him. The giant woman shook her head, pointing toward her things and miming popping a collar.

 “Ok, get the coat,” Henry conceded, shifting his weight on his aching leg a little.

 “Thank you,” she breathed with a gentle smile.

 “Would you like to take the trained horses back so myself and Jones can work yours through drills while we travel back to the mess, sirs?” Miller asked, dismounting his horse and approaching the Commander.

 Martellis nodded, smiling. “Very much appreciate the initiative, Miller, thank you.” Edmund beamed proudly, handing the Commander the reins to the horse he was riding, and moving back toward the proper distance with Peter’s favourite horse. Grant accepted the reins for Jones’ mount from him with a quiet thanks.

 “I need to get my coat, you all head off and myself and Henry will catch up” Melanie said quietly, and Martellis waved at her with the back of his hand, the four mounted riders taking off as Henry walked into her palm.

 “Remember to call passes,” Jones said in reminder a moment later as her and Henry began approaching from behind, Miller galloping off to the right-hand side to give them enough space as she strode between them, dropping her own speed to match their canters as the Commander and Captain sped up as well.

 Martellis glanced over his shoulder to see Melanie’s eyes on the grounds, monitoring the traffic ahead of them and nodding faintly as Henry stood, speaking inaudibly to the people on the ground directly into her ear. Presumably explaining the orders he had given them.

 “Fantastic work on the horses, Lieutenants,” Grant called, keeping his eyes forward as he tried to ignore the fresher faces turning to stare at their ridiculous approach.

 “Thank you, Captain!” They both shouted back, doing a cross-pass between the officers and Melanie’s feet. The giant woman heaved a quiet but contented sigh, at least traveling in a group like this was spreading the amount of staring out a bit more between everyone.

“Does it bother you?” She asked on a breath as Miller and Jones continued to shout passes, her waving a finger in acknowledgement or nodding depending on their positions.

“Daniel’s bothered me for years, don’t mind him,” Henry said quietly, hanging onto the neck handle as he swayed with her movements.

“I-- that wasn’t what I was asking about,” she whispered, surprised by the response, “but I will later. I meant the staring.”

“Couldn’t care less,” Henry replied bluntly. A surprised chuckle escaped her and she turned her eyes down to watch the boys pass again.

“Was worried it’d make you uncomfortable,” she explained, trying to keep her voice low.

“They’ll come around, not my job to appease them. Not yours either, to that end,” Henry said, leaning to the side to bump her cheek with his arm and shoulder, causing her to smile.

Her head tipped toward him slightly. “I don’t want it to affect how they treat you,” she said, turning her head to look at the construction efforts as they passed, trying to puzzle out what they could be for. “I’m a lost cause, but you could almost pretend to be normal when I’m not around.”

“How gauche,” he said sarcastically, causing her to laugh, everyone’s heads turning to her for a moment. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I’ll try to avoid encouraging staring.”

“I appreciate that,” she said softly, her cheeks slightly flushed. “It’s less bothersome when you’re up here, at least. By a lot. Feels like it’s less attention for just me.”

She felt him fidgeting on her shoulder and slowed her gait briefly, making sure all of the riders were ahead of her first. “It’s because of this damned uniform,” Henry muttered, fixing his feet again in a wider stance with a different strap.

“Damned pretty uniform,” she said, and felt his arm leave the loop briefly to tap the side of her head playfully, both of them chuckling. “Sorry.”

 She waited several steps back from the area outside the mess-hall doors, crouching to let Henry on the ground before standing back up to undo her coat and remove it, already feeling warm from just their short walk across the field. Her mounted escort had gone to return their horses to the day-paddock, and she folded and bundled the coat carefully so as not to lose anything out of the pockets while she waited for someone to come and direct her where to sit.

 “Right next to the plank stacks, ma’am!” Miller’s voice boomed as he came around the corner again and saw her still waiting. She grinned widely, nodding and stepping in, placing the coat in her lap after crossing her legs.

 “Afternoon, ma’am!” Bartlett’s voice called up from the open doors as he and Hicks came out with buckets of food again. Melanie gestured politely for him to lower his voice.

 “Afternoon!” She replied happily, waving to them both. “Thank you,” she added, taking one of the buckets in hand.

 “General’ll be out in a mo’,” Hicks said as she inspected the shot-glass-sized container. “She’s finishing her own stew with the Guard.”

 “Excellent,” she offered, bringing one hand to cover her mouth as she tipped the bucket back quickly. Henry took Bartlett’s instruction to simply sit down and relax, moving back to sit on one of her ankles again.

 “Your favourite medics are here,” Lionus announced, exiting from the mess hall with Kendrick and Devon in tow, Kendrick beaming ecstatically as he brought a large bowl of stew and some bread to Henry, not even hesitating on the approach.

 Melanie smirked as Jones and Miller passed through the growing cluster of people taking their meals out on the grounds again. “And Devon, too! What a treat,” she offered, faintly sarcastic as she raised her eyebrows to the Lance Corporal.

 Lionus laughed, his hands on his hips as he averted his gaze. Martellis muttered a quiet ‘decorum’ as he passed the Corporal with the rest of the escort into the hall. Henry finished thanking Kendrick and smiled at Devon, genuinely, not realizing what had just happened.

 “Kendrick and Devon were my doctors while I was at barracks,” Henry said, tipping the bowl back against his lips. “They took very good care of me.”

 “I’m glad to hear, I assume that means Devon didn’t talk much,” she said, trying to puzzle out the forced, neutral expression on Devon’s face as he continued to lock eyes with her, like he was challenging her.

 “What do you mean?” Henry asked, surprised, after swallowing. “Devon was very kind.”

 Melanie’s eyes didn’t leave Devon’s as they widened. “Was he?” She asked, incredulously.

 “Yes,” Henry replied, shocked as he turned to look up at her. “He said he’s been treating you.”

 “Yes, treating me terribly,” she stressed, looking down at Henry finally, Lionus starting to laugh louder. “He’s got a tongue like a razor blade.”

 “I’ve no idea what she’s talking about, sir,” Devon said clearly, turning to Henry. “It might be the head trauma.”

 “Who told you about that?” She demanded in a whisper, laughing through her offense as Miller’s laughs boomed from inside the mess hall.

 “Decorum,” Commander Martellis’ tired voice called from inside the doors and she set her mouth shut, glaring at the small medic.

 “This is why I wanted Kendrick,” she said quietly, reaching for her second bucket of food as Miller came back out, laughing still, rolling a barrel of water for her.

 Kendrick blushed with a grin. “Glad to be back, Miss!”

 “It’s so good to see you again, Kendrick, I can’t even tell you,” she said genuinely with a relieved smile. “Thank you for keeping him together as much as possible.”

 “How’s the leg?” Devon asked Henry, walking toward him. Henry grimaced.

 “Could be better,” he admitted, shamefully. “Definitely aching at the hip and knee, ankle seems to be fine though.”

 Devon sighed, gesturing for him to stretch his leg out as he knelt to start removing the boot. “That’s because it’s compressed. I’ll take a look at it and then we’ll put the boot back on if it isn’t dire.”

 “Still looks better than yesterday though,” Kendrick said, leaning over Devon’s shoulder to watch the process.

 “It does feel significantly better overall, yes,” Henry replied, relieved.

 “We’ll get you to ice it tonight when you’re up in the bunks, sir,” Kendrick said happily as Devon started to massage around the ankle and up toward the knee. “We brought some extra from the barracks.”

 “I’ll be out at her end, actually,” Henry said, cocking his head back toward Melanie as she finished handing two of the empty buckets back to Hicks, Bartlett just rejoining them with Jones and Miller with their own meals, hauling up seats wherever they could find them.

 “No,” Melanie said, surprised. “You’re going to be in the bunks, your arm is broken.”

 “I’ll be fine,” he insisted, turning to look at her as Devon reached his knee, causing him to wince and gasp with pain.

 “Please sleep somewhere with walls,” she pleaded quietly as she reached for another bucket of stew. “If you catch a cold, Lionus will kill you and Devon will be the death of me.”

 “True,” Lionus said, pulling himself up to sit on a barrel, watching the other medics at work with interest. “I’ll also be unhappy if you catch cold, Miss, but there’s less we can do about that at the moment. Mr. Henry here we can strap down if necessary.” Henry sighed, nodding.

 “You might have to, he’s trouble,” she said, smirking.

 “General on app--” Peters tried to state as he walked out of the doors, a mouth full of bread, before a loud yell caused him to flinch and stagger in surprise.

 “Stay as you are!” Ais’lyn’s voice carried through the doors as people stopped half-way through standing. “Salute from seating, for lord’s sake, it’s lunch.”

 Sloppy, confused salutes were scattered among the practiced salutes of people who have evidently dealt with the Duchess before, as she appeared with her hat in her hand and her coat having been removed. Melanie’s salute caught the attention of several newer people who were trying to skirt around the crowd and she apologized quietly as they scurried more quickly to where they were going.

 “Good afternoon, ma’am,” Melanie said warmly as everyone relaxed back to their eating, the Commander and Captain rejoining from behind the General and causing a sudden shift of seating as people moved to give them more room to stage themselves in front of the doors.

 “Good afternoon, dear,” the General replied happily. “Have yourself and Henry been able to discuss much of what you need?”

 “Yes ma’am,” they both replied, Ais’lyn looking like she was liable to shove the medics out of the way to try and fix Henry’s coat again as she turned to him. “We were hoping to do some laundry after lunch at the pond if there would be some Guard available to escort me,” Melanie mentioned, trying not to stare as a number of the shifting soldiers taking their lunch encroached a bit closer to her.

 “Oh, yes,” the General said, her attention moving back up to the giant woman with a smile. “Lieutenant Wright is set to go on duty with you on the next shift, we’ll have her lead the march, and I’d like to come as well to discuss a few details for the future.”

 “Of course,” Melanie responded with a grin. 

 “Will you be bathing?” Ais’lyn asked with a level of casualness that seemed to imply she didn’t understand the private nature of the question, and witnessed the open mouthed stare of Melanie with a level of disregard that implied she simply didn’t care.

 “I’d recommend it,” Devon’s voice came up clearly as he continued massaging Henry’s leg back down from the hip. “From a Medical standpoint,” he added, not looking up.

 “Decorum,” Lionus and Martellis both said quickly as Melanie’s hand moved swiftly, causing Devon to duck nervously. She brought it to her face, scratching just above her eyebrow with the middle finger as he tried to stifle a laugh, moving to start putting Henry’s boot back on.

 “Sorry, I was itchy,” she muttered, her face still red as she looked at the extremely interesting roof of the barracks building. “Yes, I suppose that could happen as well,” she managed awkwardly after a moment.
 
 “Excellent, that will give us more time,” Ais’lyn said, turning toward the Commander and Captain. “I’m relinquishing control of your forces back to you until after we return from our errands, Commander, thank you for your cooperation today.”

 “It’s always a pleasure, General,” he said with a smile, saluting before bowing with a fist over his heart.

 A hand landed on Melanie’s knee briefly and she turned to see the ring of seating had finally made it to her, Miller sliding himself in between her and Bartlett, who had snagged himself the last space on the stack of lumber. Edmund’s eyes were on the window to the mess hall, beside the doors, and Melanie could just barely make out Fuller gesturing something to him from inside. The giant woman leaned just slightly down to get the cook's attention and mouthed thanks for the food as he grinned at her, nodding.

 “All set for the rest of the day,” Devon’s voice made it up to her as he finished with Henry’s boot. “Take it easy on the leg, and use the cane when you have to be up.”

 “Thank you, Devon,” Henry said warmly, bending his knee several times slowly. The medics stood and moved to head back toward the Corporal, leaving him open for the General to strike off toward him and Melanie could feel how rigid he went even through her boot.

 “Hat!” Ais’lyn called loudly over her shoulder again, Henry holding up his good arm with the last of his stew still in it as he shook his head.

 “I was told--” he started in protest before she hushed him, everyone around staring in confusion except for the Commander and Captain, one of whom seemed utterly delighted by the turn of events as Theresa, Ais’lyn’s assistant came dashing out of the mess.

 “You don’t have to wear it but it has to stay with the uniform or the Staff Sergeant will become insufferable,” she said sharply, holding her hand out for Theresa to place the hat in it. Melanie and Theresa smiled and waved quickly to each other after the handoff.

 “My hands are full, ma’am,” Henry said, immediately leaning back as she tried to put the hat on his head directly.

 The crowd of people, save for Henry, Miller, Jones and the General, jumped as one of Melanie’s massive hands swiftly drifted over next to the two of them, a finger outstretched. “I can hold it, if that’s alright ma’am,” she said quietly, Ais’lyn still staring at Henry before smirking and placing it on the tip of the large finger, Henry also not pleased by this compromise but relaxing a bit more.

 Ais’lyn pat her finger gently, turning to look up at her. “Thank you, dear. At some point it will need to be returned, technically the ensemble is on loan.”
 
 “Yes ma’am, I’ll find a safe place to keep it until it has to go back,” the giant woman said with a grin, spinning the hat carefully with her thumb as she lifted her hand up to get a closer look.

 “I could wear it,” Miller offered from next to her and she smirked down at him.

 “Trade,” she said, moving the hat to her other hand and holding it out in front of him. Miller grinned, laughing as he took his own hat off and swapping it with the tricorner before fixing it on his head, letting one of his hands linger on hers a moment as he shot Henry a wink.

 “That isn’t--” Captain Grant started with an annoyed sigh, before Ais’lyn turned on him.

 “They have my permission,” she said with a bright smile, turning back to Miller with fire in her eyes. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

 Melanie lifted her hand up again to look at Miller’s hat more closely, letting it fall into her palm as Ais’lyn turned to chat with the Commander and Captain quietly, most of the men going back to casual conversation or moving to return their dishes while the General wasn’t paying too close attention to them. “Thank you, Miller,” she said warmly.

 “Happy to do it, ma’am!” He said with another laugh, looking at Bartlett next to him. “What do you think?”

 “Doesn’t suit you,” Bartlett said bluntly as he finished the last of his bowl and moved off of the wood to return it to the kitchen.

 “It’d look gorgeous in black or brown on you,” Melanie said from above. “The blue is a clash, but I love the style.”

 “Thank you, ma’am,” Miller said, leaning back against her leg as he fiddled with it slightly on his head. “Makes me feel nautical.”

 Melanie nudged the back of Henry gently as he handed his empty bowl to Kendrick, whispering teasingly. “That’s two for hats.”

 “Noted,” Henry sighed, stretching. “Are you done eating?”

 “Yeah, I’m good,” she said, fiddling with the ribbon around her neck briefly.

 “Properly,” he chided.

 “Yes, sir,” she replied mockingly. “I’m finished.”

 “Let’s go get your things and then we can head off once the General and Guard are ready.” He stood, placing the cane firmly on the ground as he took a few steps away from her, turning to watch as she lowered Miller’s hat back toward him.

 “Hold this for me for a second, please, Miller,” she asked, Miller stepping away from her as he took it in hand. Melanie carefully gathered herself into a position where she could stand after checking around her several times, holding the bundle of coat in her arms as she moved further afield to carefully unroll it and put it back on, checking the pockets briefly.

 She walked back over, waving goodbye and saying thank you to members of the brigade who had eaten lunch with her, asking them what they were doing for the rest of the day and making conversation as she finished buttoning up the coat and collecting Miller’s proper hat again.

 “That’s a sturdy one, ma’am,” Miller called up to her as she knelt on her good knee. “Don’t worry about being too rough with it, I also have a spare.”

 “That’s good to know,” she said, smiling, carefully dropping it into one of her front breast pockets.

 Ais’lyn had gotten Theresa to bring her her coat, and was in the process of having the assistant help her with the lower buttons while she worked from the top as she spoke to the giant woman. “Once you gather your things, just meet us at the bottom of the road, dear. Lieutenant Jones, can you help us with the horses?”

 “Yes, ma’am, absolutely,” Jones said, standing up from his seat on some large beams and saluting, heading toward the stables.

 “We’ll meet you there,” Melanie said, placing a fist over her heart and bowing her head.

 “Enjoy your bath, Miss,” Devon said, that forced neutral expression on his features again.

 “I will, thank you, Devon,” she replied, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him as the General, Captain and Commander all returned inside, followed by the Corporal and the medics.

 As she placed Henry on her shoulder and they finished saying their goodbyes to everyone, she struck off across the field trying to insist she would answer questions about her problem with Devon when they were further away from the grounds.

Chapter Text

 “They told me your back wasn’t that bad,” Henry stressed as he approached the pool with the General, Theresa, and Lieutenant Wright, having left the rest of the Noble Guard escorts at the road and entrance to the area after a brief walk to give the large woman time to enter the water.

 Melanie’s hands wrung out her hair tightly, slicking it back as she took a deep and satisfied breath. The cold temperature of the pond was a dream today in the face of the still-increasing afternoon heat of summer. She turned, her shoulders barely out of the water and shrugged at him. “They told me that too,” she said defensively. “It doesn’t hurt or itch anymore, so I assume I can trust their judgment. Does it look infected?”

 She turned around again, rising up and trying to turn her head enough to see. “No, but--” Henry started and she raised a hand out of the water, interrupting him.

 “Then don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” she said, submerging again and delicately paddling back to where she had left her soap and face cloth.

 “It looks like you landed on a pile of broken glass!” he called, concerned as she came back up.

 “Doctors say it’s fine and they put some medicine on it, I don’t wanna know!” She said back, kicking herself backwards into the deeper part of the pool. If she straightened out completely, she could just barely keep her eyes above water and graze the bottom with the tips of her toes. 

 “It is a concerning amount of cuts, ma’am,” Wright called.

 “I was in a shipwreck,” the massive woman gently reminded as she tread water, opening the bottle of camping soap and using a small amount to lather her hair. “I do appreciate the concern though, Lieutenant Wright, thank you,” she finished with a smile.

 The Lieutenant looked to Ais’lyn briefly, the General giving a sharp incline of her head with a smile as Wright called back across the water, “Francine, please!”

 “Thank you, Francine,” Melanie said as she rinsed her hair quickly, moving her way back toward the side of the pond where she could sit and start scrubbing herself with the cloth. “You all don’t need to watch any of this if it bothers you, by the way,” she said, her back to them as she let the bottle bob idly in the water around her.

 “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, dear,” Ais’lyn said, fanning herself with her hat. Theresa had already helped her back out of the coat again, and she had undone the top few buttons of her blouse in the summer heat.

 Henry stood for a long moment watching the giant woman idly, his mind drifting through a list of tasks and items he had to order and prioritize before he realized the three women next to him were staring at him. He turned, blinking at the three with his eyebrows raised before it dawned on him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He called to Melanie over his shoulder as he watched the women’s expressions.

“The shouting is a bit much, my ears aren’t that bad,” the large woman replied as she strung the cloth between her two hands behind her back and started to carefully scrub the cuts and scrapes across her shoulders, “but you? No, I don’t care. I assume I’m like furniture at this point.”

“That sounds a bit more self-degrading than I’d like,” he said, his voice pointed as he turned back around.

“God,” she breathed, taking a moment as she stuck a leg out to scrub it carefully. “I’d love to be furniture at this point. People would be staring just… so much less.”

“Mind yourself around the General, please,” Henry sighed as Ais’lyn looked back and forth between himself and Melanie, her eyes burning over a smile that seemed delighted by what was happening in front of her.

“My apologies, ma’am--” she started before Ais’lyn’s voice snapped across the water.

“Continue as you were, hats are off,” she said, Melanie smiling widely as she tipped herself over back into the deeper part of the pond to rinse off.

“Please,” the giant woman begged quietly as her head resurfaced closer to where everyone was standing in the shade, pulling herself along to lie on the porous limestone in the shallows. “You have to explain the hats to me. Everytime I think I’ve figured it out, I seem to be just slightly off.”

“It’s a barracks practice for when officers are considered off duty temporarily, so there’s less of an expectation for protocol to be followed,” Ais’lyn said, turning her head curiously as she observed Melanie’s interested expression. “...How often have you seen it happen?”

The giant’s hazel eyes opened wider briefly before she shrugged, her gaze darting to the trees. “The bare minimum amount it would take to get me out of this conversation before someone winds up in trouble, ma’am,” she said before sinking herself into the water, submerging her lips as the General and Francine both laughed.

“Clever answer,” Ais’lyn conceded as Henry shot Melanie a look.

“Thank you for explaining, General,” Henry said politely, in lieu of Melanie’s own manners. The fiery eyes of the Duchess flashed with a smile as she nodded politely in response. “Did you have any specific questions for us, while we have some small amount of privacy?”

“Yes,” the General said, looking between them both with a more serious expression. “Specifically in regards to that coat and its-- I presume, at least-- alterations.”

Melanie raised her lips out of the water with a look of reluctance on her face. “I’m going to get my laundry and start washing it while we have this conversation,” she said, “Henry can answer for a moment while I get my things.”

Henry sighed, nodding at the woman as she turned to swim away again before looking back to the General who spoke in a clear, inarguable yet delicate tone. “It catches attention,” Ais’lyn stated, “and we are a military branch.”

“This was an inevitability,” he agreed, gesturing with his cane smoothly toward the Duchess. “We knew these conversations would be happening, and I would like to state for clarity that I appreciate that they are happening with us instead of around us.”

“Of course, dear,” Ais’lyn replied, smiling for a moment before returning to her serious expression, her emerald eyes landing on the massive woman as she made her way back to the area near them, the bundle of dirty clothes and the detergent held over her head before she rested it at the side of the pond. “I can delay the inevitable, so to speak, but I want you to be aware that when the other representatives arrive it will be foremost on their minds, whether they have seen this in action or not.”

A tense quiet passed as Melanie started to wash her clothing, one item at a time in the shallower part of the pool, her expression carrying a faint look of discomfort beyond the look of acceptance. “How much time do we have, if you had to guess, ma’am?”

“I can probably give you four days before they will want it to be seriously discussed,” she said. “I can also start to gather those volunteers, unofficially, so we can hopefully have some groundwork done on getting them used to the idea before it becomes an order.”

Henry nodded, trying not to let his sympathy show too openly as Melanie made an uncomfortable noise. The General took a deep breath before shrugging. “Corporal Lionus tells me you’ve handled--”

“Lionus is an exception,” Melanie interrupted her softly, turning to look at Ais’lyn as giant hands scrubbed the lather into one of her shirts. “He’s a Doctor, I was put more at ease by him because he had to treat my wounds, so contact was necessary. I’m comfortable with interacting with him and maybe the other medics, as needed, but I’m only now just warming up to the idea of anyone else. I apologize for my discomfort.”

“There’s no need to apologize, dear,” Ais’lyn insisted. “If it would put you at ease at all, I was very appreciative of your courtesy yesterday.”

“I was as well, ma’am,” Francine added. “Thank you for your trust.”

Melanie seemed to falter at Francine’s words, coming to a brief halt as if her entire body stuttered. She smiled faintly, her eyes remaining on her current task as she nodded. “You’re very welcome, but handshakes and what we’re talking about are… extremely different.”

Blue-green eyes watched patiently, moving between Melanie and the smaller women as Henry listened. As much as he wanted to interject, to step in and do what he thought would be helpful for her, the sailor had to grip with the reality that they were not alone anymore; and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how truly little privacy he and his companion had now. Finding time and places where they would be able to have the conversations they need was going to have to be a priority for him.

“I understand,” Ais’lyn said soothingly. “I will give you as much time as I possibly can. I would like to ask some more… specific questions about the whole affair, however.”

Melanie nodded, taking a deep breath and turning a bit more to face the cluster of people at the edge of the water. “Absolutely, ma’am, please.”

“The number of straps and handles… was that in consideration of multiple people?”

Henry and Melanie shook their heads nearly in unison. “No, just different options for position and control, based on where he is and how he’s situated,” the large woman explained. “While there’s a possibility- depending on stances- that we could possibly get more up there, I would say for the time being that a maximum of two people, total, is workable in that particular rigging.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully as he listened. “That’s also a much more advanced tactic at the baseline,” he added. “We would need to start heavily with basics. Any of them with sailing experience may take it up quicker, but we won’t be starting with the rigging at all.”

“I actually never thought about how we would move from basics to the advanced,” Melanie said quietly, her mouth twisting in thought. “We’ll need to discuss if Ribbon is going to come into play in the initial drills.”

Ais’lyn’s eyebrows knit together as she listened, and she shared a look with Francine and Theresa who seemed to be just as confused as to where the conversation was going. Green eyes landed on the sailor as he lowered himself onto the grass, stretching out his sore leg with a groan.

“I wouldn’t,” he replied bluntly. “I feel like Ribbon is more advanced again. We did the alterations as an improvement on the ribbon method, and it’s much better. Ribbon can be an emergency training drill sometime in the future.”

“That makes sense,” Melanie said, smiling at Henry as she finished scrubbing another shirt, humming thoughtfully as she looked at the growing number of wet clothes in front of her. “I am…” she started awkwardly, looking around the area, “probably going to have to get in and out of the pond a number of times to hang the laundry.”

“Did you bring something to hang it on?” Henry asked.

“Spare rope from my tarp,” she said with a shrug.

“Wash the rope first or it’ll leave a smell and maybe stains,” he suggested, watching her nod before she kicked backwards into the pond again and headed back to where her things were laid. 

“How long was it you two spent together, again?” Ais’lyn’s voice was soft, almost hushed, but distinctly filled with interest as she stepped closer to him.

“The better part of two years,” he breathed back quietly, turning to look up at her with a curious expression. “Just over a year and eight months, I believe.”

A soft smile spread beneath glinting, emerald eyes, Ais’lyn inclining her head slightly. “It shows well.”

Henry nodded, his expression remaining curious as he tried to puzzle out what the General meant, the untamed woman’s attention moving back to Melanie while she stepped away from him again.

 “How dangerous were the beginnings of learning these maneuvers, for yourselves?” She asked, letting her voice carry to Melanie. 

The giant woman rubbed the rope and detergent between her hands as her eyes moved up into the canopy, furrowing her brow in thought. “I feel like the beginning was easy enough. We had some close calls and accidents throughout-- it’s not completely unavoidable-- but Henry’s more equipped to answer that question, I think.”

Henry turned to the General with an expression that seemed both amused and tired. “If someone manages to get hurt during the basics, it will be because they were trying to get hurt. She is overly cautious.”

“If you were to have to start practicing with anyone--” Ais’lyn began, Melanie and Henry answering at the same time as they interrupted.

“Miller and Jones.”

 Ais’lyn laughed out loud, nodding. “Excellent, they’re good men,” she replied, Melanie smiling at her as she rinsed the rope and swam back toward the farthest end of the pond, scanning the trees around their area.

“It will be raining on this end of the pond for a while, my apologies for the view,” Melanie said before pushing herself out of the water, taking quick steps with an arm across her chest and her thighs pressed together as she worked to find a place to string her make-shift clothesline. Ais’lyn and Francine walked off toward her area, conversing quietly between themselves.

Henry let out a long breath as he moved his unbroken arm up to rest behind his head, lying down on the cool grass of their shaded little area and listening to the large woman mutter to herself incoherently as she started to hang her wet clothes.

“Sir,” a quieter voice caught his attention as Theresa leaned over him. “Don’t get up!” She said in surprise as he tried to push himself back off the ground. “I was just wondering if there’s anything I can do for you at the moment, for your comfort.”

Henry relaxed a bit with a warm smile, shaking his head. “No, but thank you very much. I’m afraid I never caught your name.”

“Theresa Jarvis, I’m the Duchess’ personal assistant,” the young woman said. Henry lifted his head enough to extend his arm straight upwards and they both chuckled at the awkward shake.

“Henry Lemuels, pleasure,” he said, resting back down on his arm again. “Please, take a seat.”

Theresa carefully and properly moved herself into an elegant seat on the ground beside him, her eyes scanning the pond and area a moment before turning to observe Melanie and the others. They started to speak while the giant moved back into the pond, several of her clothing items blowing in the sun very gently.

“How long have you been assistant to the Duchess?” He asked curiously after she had settled.

“Just over a year now, sir,” she replied happily. She seemed pleasantly surprised that he had asked.

“She seems to me to be an incredibly energetic woman, I imagine it’s a job that’s given you a lot of experiences thus far,” he said, turning his head slightly to look at her, sliding his broken arm out of the sling and finding a comfortable place to rest it with his elbow stretched.

The young woman gave a surprised chuckle, catching herself quickly and nodding as she tried to fix a more stoic expression onto her face. “Yes, sir, it’s been an extraordinary series of experiences. This has been the happiest I have seen her in the entirety of my time with her, actually.”

Henry’s brows raised in amusement as he smirked. “I won’t lie to you, I’m a bit relieved to hear that she might be calmer than this on occasion.”

“Oh, yes, in a way,” Theresa said, nodding, chuckling again. “She does take her roles very seriously, but she has desperately missed the Watch.”

“It is good to know she still cares deeply for it.” Henry turned to rest on his back again, listening carefully to what he could make out of the conversation Melanie was in just at the other side of their little resting space as he closed his eyes. He could sense it coming, as if there was a small noise growing in intensity, and he started to count slowly; a game he would play with himself while living with Melanie when he wanted to test how anxious she was.

One… two… 
Three… four… 
Five…

“Sir,” the voice of Theresa had dropped to almost a whisper and in that moment he was fondly reminded of Kendrick. “If I may intrude, slightly, with a question or two…?”

Five: Not an extremely anxious length of time. The questions would likely not be very personal or imposing. “I assure you, it is no intrusion,” he said calmly, rather enjoying being able to speak like a gentleman again in proper company. “As an esteemed member of the Royal Service, you are more than welcome to ask what you wish.”

His eyes opened as he carefully sat up again, moving his broken arm carefully back into its sling. Turning to look at her, he noticed she was red in the face exactly as Kendrick had been, and the corner of his mouth turned up at the memory.

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured before clearing her throat. “I… was hoping to know whether it’s due to our armed display yesterday that she is reluctant for contact, or if there is another reason.”

Henry’s head tipped curiously to the side, his brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with what you’re speaking of. ‘Armed display’?”

“We had the full rifle ranks on her yesterday when we arrived,” Theresa explained, her eyes locking with Henry’s. “She was notably off-put, and when Duch-- the General made mention of it, she had made a direct comment on the guns.” Henry’s eyes went wide and flicked toward Melanie briefly before snapping back to Theresa, his attempt to restrain a look of concern obviously failing as the younger woman began to look ashamed. “The General ordered for all but our two highest Marksmaids-- sorry, Markswomen-- to stand down, as armed guards are required to be present, loaded and at ready in any interactions between Nobility or Royalty and undeclared foreigners, but… I was simply curious.”

The sailor’s eyes watched while the light blue eyes of the assistant dropped as her voice trailed off. “I’ll have to ask her directly,” was all he could manage to say with a subtle shrug. “She didn’t speak of it, but we had many other things to go over this morning, and that kind of discussion requires more privacy.”

“Thank you, sir, sorry for the bother,” Theresa offered on a whisper, her trained proper cadence breaking into a more casual, rural speech for a moment. “I know Lieutenant Wright was concerned about the impression… she specifically asked the General today if she could arrive unarmed. The General even allowed her to leave her pistol, so I feel they might both have thought it was a smart idea.”

Henry’s eyes moved across the shore to Francine and Ais’lyn, who were slowly walking back toward them as their conversation with Melanie continued over the sounds of her scrubbing more of her clothing. “Francine is a First Lieutenant, then,” he said, mostly for his own sake of remembering.

“Oh, she’s our top Marksma-- Markswoman,” Theresa said, also turning to watch them. “Unbeatable with either a rifle or a pistol.”

His eyes followed Melanie’s, scanning her expressions as she interacted with the General to see what little he could glean, but with Francine not speaking much he couldn’t see if there were her usual signs of discomfort, fear, or hurt. “I’ll speak with her later, Theresa,” he reiterated quietly after a moment, turning back to the girl with a reassuring smile. “Thank you for your observations, however, and your concern. It is highly appreciated in this situation.”

“As for other reasons,” he continued quietly, solemnly. “There are a number, you and the Guard do not need to feel completely at fault or that you carry much of the blame for her current state of mind.”

“I appreciate that to hear, sir,” she replied with a faint smile. “I look forward to working with you both more in the coming days.”

Henry inclined his head with a warm smile, turning back to observe the others once more, a gentle breeze causing the thick canopy above them to send spots of sunlight dancing across the pond.

Melanie finished with washing her laundry after a long conversation with Ais’lyn about possible things they would be asked to do or perform as more representatives arrived. Once all of her laundry was hung to dry, she dried herself and dressed back in her blouse and pants of earlier, leaving her coat and boots off while they waited for the laundry to finish drying, or at least mostly finish in the case of the thicker clothes and towels.

The horses had been tied to a few of the smaller trees nearby after being led to the head of the runoff stream that filled the pond for some clean water, and they now were simply relaxing and nudging each other in the shade, their tails flicking away flies the large woman couldn’t see.

“Was your sewing kit in the chest like it was supposed to be?” Henry asked from her lap as they sat beneath one of the larger trees at the back of the pond, near the rocky outcrops.

“Yes, but everything deemed a danger was confiscated,” she replied, fiddling with the vest of his borrowed uniform in one hand, her legs crossed at the ankles beneath him as he rested in just the shirt and pants. “So the jeans and shirt are just going to look like I’m a hooligan or something for a while until I can get the needles back.”

“I doubt that will take long,” Ais’lyn said from her own seat on the rocky outcropping, her bare feet resting in the cold water alongside Theresa who was doing the same. Francine had taken off her coat and vest, and had a number of buttons undone on her shirt as she leaned back against a boulder and rested her eyes, while the other three members of the Noble Guard escort that had accompanied them milled about and relaxed in the shade with them. “My husband can likely have that cleared for us by this evening or tomorrow if he can stop writing letters to everyone he’s ever met for more than a few minutes.”

“The Duke is spreading the news of us that far--?” Melanie started to ask, concerned, before the General flapped her lips annoyedly, waving at her.

“No, dear, I was over-exaggerating,” she replied bluntly. “Though I’m curious as to what the Royal Consensus is going to be on how to tackle the public’s knowledge of you thus far.”

“I suppose they’ll need to find out about me at some point or another, before I start meandering the countryside in plain view,” Melanie replied quietly, sounding uncomfortable. Henry rested a hand firmly on her leg beside him, rubbing gently as he prepared for her to get the bad news he had already been told.

“Oh they know about you,” the General stated, almost casually, either ignoring or completely missing the terrified look that came over the giant’s face. “That’s where I heard you were one hundred feet tall, dear. Rumors reached us practically as far away as the border.”

“Shit,” she muttered, Henry whispering a quiet ‘Melanie’ to remind her of her manners as a few of the Noble Guard shot looks of shock, amusement or approval toward her. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Not an inappropriate response given the circumstances, but yes-- mildly inappropriate given the company. While I’m not one to give a damn about tongue once the hats are off, when the high-hats arrive you’ll need to be very aware of your manners.” Ais’lyn turned her green eyes to Francine, who seemed to sense the attention and sit up. “Francine can coach you on proper etiquette when you both have time together.”

“I’ll try to…” Melanie began after her and Francine shared a nod and smiles, “work on my speech, as well, in that time.”

“No need,” Ais’lyn said, her tone softening as she looked directly toward the massive woman. “You’ll be fine to speak as you have been, just keep titles and rank in mind where possible and address those you’re speaking with as properly as you can. You do sound much better when you’re relaxed.”

Henry rubbed at Melanie’s leg again, sensing her awkwardness as she blushed at the General’s words. He smiled to himself as she rested a hand next to him, nudging him gently with a finger. “Thank you, ma’am,” she replied quietly. “I’m glad to hear it’s improved at least that much.”

“I imagine it will be a situation of ‘don’t speak unless you’re spoken to’, when in direct contact with them,” Henry said, “Otherwise, I’ll be doing my job and speaking in your place.”

She heaved a loud, relieved sigh. “That’s so much better.”

“As I said earlier, we vetted him thoroughly and felt you’d approve,” Ais’lyn called, playful and proud, causing them both to chuckle.

“Thank you, ma’am,” they both said.

“I’ve meant to mention to you, dear, though we’ve no privacy at all for it,” the General continued, nodding toward Melanie. “What we spoke of yesterday looks to be in place for tomorrow. Had to check on timing obviously, but it’ll be done.”

“Oh,” the giant woman exclaimed in surprise, smiling. “Excellent, thank you.”

Henry’s brow knit a moment as he looked between them both. “Is this something I should--?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dear,” Ais’lyn replied flippantly, Melanie’s finger nudging him gently again, a sign of ‘we’ll talk later’.

A quiet moment, some murmurs among the enlisted women aside, overtook the area and a soft and contented smile crossed Melanie’s face as she leaned back against the trunk of the tree, watching birds flit through the area as her hand holding Henry’s vest dropped back into her lap near his discarded coat.

“Ma’am?” she asked, her eyes up to the canopy.

“Yes, dear,” Ais’lyn responded, her eyes turning to the large woman once again and Henry’s eyes following them curiously.

“While we have a moment, if you’d be free or interested in sharing, would I be able to ask you how you came to enlist with the Watch?”

Henry took a deep breath as he smiled, his shoulders sagging slightly. He had many months experience of Melanie’s personal questions, and had tried to impress on her the importance of behaving properly around the Nobility and the brass during their preparations to travel here. Despite the disappointment that she seemed to have not listened, however, he was touched that she was feeling comfortable enough to ask.

“Well,” the powerful voice of the Duchess traveled to them both, getting both of their attentions again; Henry’s face mildly concerned at the tone shift, Melanie’s face utterly delighted by it. “That is an old story, but one more than worth telling.”

Ais’lyn stood, moving to a rock that could serve as a decent seat as the other women of the guard adjusted themselves to face her or become more comfortable while they listened. “My family had, before myself, very limited history with the military. Two of my great grandparents throughout my lineage had been drafted during wartime, but that was a significant amount of time ago-- very significant,” she stressed, pulling at a curl that was almost entirely silver from her nest of red hair. “Primarily my family history is split between farming and operating supply stores, and my parents, in particular, were extremely profitable merchants.”

Melanie was nodding along, her eyes sparkling the way they had whenever Henry would talk to her about his life back home. He smiled to himself as he watched her expressions, heaving a long sigh before lying back against her thigh, his sore leg resting straight on top and the other dangling over the side. 

“Out of eight children, I was the first daughter,” the General continued. “Two of my three older brothers, three younger sisters, and youngest brother were allowed to pursue whatever avenues they wished; two of my younger sisters became teachers and my youngest sister is a doctor in the capital, all of my brothers went into mercantile professions of some variety. Myself and my oldest brother were essentially raised to take over the family business; Joseph operating the stores and managing the shipping, myself doing the accounting, financing, logistical paperwork kind of roles,” she crossed her legs high at the knee, shaking her foot to try and let it finish drying more. “Essentially we’d be taking over the roles of our parents, which I likely would’ve been fine with if Joseph hadn’t decided to be so arrogant about the entire endeavour; he never bothered to learn accounting or the record keeping, because he said it wasn’t his job and never would be.”

“Were you going to be equal partners in the business once you had both taken over?” Melanie asked, curiously, Ais’lyn placing her hands in her lap and leaning forward with a sly smirk.

“I’m sure my parents believed that was somehow going to be an option, as they were both equal partners. I tried to tell them that equal partners in marriage is one thing, equal partners in family is another, but they had full trust in Joseph and myself,” she shrugged. “So after I had been put to learn all sides of the business and he decided to only learn what was appropriate for him, I decided to suddenly take a great interest in the resolution of the Hostenian Channel Conflict and… off I went.”

Melanie’s grin spread wide, causing Ais’lyn to chuckle happily. “I do love unexpected twists,” the large woman chuckled in return, “but my guess is that your family wasn’t as excited about it?”

“You’d be correct,” the small, fierce woman stated. “After I had made it through basic training, they thought I would see a day or two of action and come running home. When that didn’t come to fruition, they worried I would become a casualty of the effort. I wrote them as often as I could at the beginning, but as their letters became just repetitive begging, anger, despair… I only wrote them when I had time to give them updates on myself and to allow them the privilege of knowing I was still breathing.”

Ais’lyn rolled her shoulders before pulling her socks out of her pockets and starting to place them back on her feet, Theresa taking it as a signal that she should start airing out her own feet as she removed them from the cool stream. The General continued, casually. “They did not see me for 10 months, and when finally I was able to return home after several major battles of the conflict for a turn of leave and rest, I was a Captain by Valorous Merit. I believe it was then that they understood I would not be taking over the accounting.”

“They must’ve been extremely proud once the shock had worn off, and once they had come to terms with their disappointment regarding the business, though?” Henry chimed in from his prone relaxation.

“Ah, well,” the General’s voice was so strangely hesitant, almost guilty, that he sat back up and turned to regard her directly. “There were… some harsher feelings, regarding that someone who had told them that she was merely an off-side medic was actually involved on the front lines enough to become a Captain. Valorous Merit or no, they weren’t tremendously appreciative of that lack of honesty.”

“Forgive me,” Melanie’s voice seemed to surprise Henry and the General as it turned soft and apologetic. “I’m not familiar with the term. What does it mean to be a Captain of Valorous Merit?”

Ais’lyn smirked as she gestured for Theresa to pass her her boots. “It means that there was an incident that caused an immediate promotion, typically in the midst of a battle or a campaign, and that the title or rank was officially granted after the conclusion. In the case of mine, a punishingly lucky series of strikes had taken out two of our commanding officers and left us too far spread out to make due with the ones that were left. I was still a private at the time, but myself and a second Lieutenant split the active Platoon between us. I took control of three of the squads and she took who remained from the fourth and integrated them into her own Platoon, while I broke from our compromised position in the opposite direction and made a play toward the enemy trenches from around their flank.”

“My presumption, to this day,” the General’s voice was stern as she recalled, Theresa slipping Ais’lyn’s boots onto her feet and buttoning them up carefully, “is that the only reason it worked was that the Hostenian forces knew they had destroyed that platoon’s Command, and assumed we were retreating to regroup beyond the treeline with the reserve forces.”

Melanie nodded along eagerly as Henry chimed in again from her lap. “Evidently not your last moment of action, if by no other measure than the awards you wear,” he said, gesturing politely with an open hand, Ais’lyn returning the gesture with a proud smile as she straightened herself into more proper posture. “I do not mean to cause offense, as I certainly don’t wish to imply a lack of skill or prowess that would’ve almost certainly been the reality,” he continued, his speech flourishing with ease that surprised him almost as much as it seemed to delight Melanie and the Duchess, “but I must wholeheartedly confess that I feel you would’ve been wasted as an accountant.”

Ais’lyn, Theresa, and several of the other women laughed brightly in response, the General herself laughing so hard she had to catch her breath when she was done. “Oh, my dear-- I most certainly hope you’re right in that. I’m still terrified they’ll try to saddle me with Humphrey’s job once he’s finally retired.”

The giant woman’s face barely had a chance to express her hesitation as she tried to cycle through all the names she had been trying to learn for the last few days, before Henry spoke up again. “The Staff Sergeant only checked in on me a few times thus far, but he mentioned his retirement every single time. He seems to be of the impression that this situation may delay that, though I’m unsure if he’s happy or sad about that prospect.”

“Thorne?” The General replied, frowning as she raised an eyebrow. “He’s neither and both-- he’ll use this as an excuse to get away with doing whatever he wants and pretending he had no say in it because of the extraordinary circumstances. It’s been his play since he was First Lieutenant of the 18th Riflemen in the Channel Conflict.”

“We call that a ‘get out of jail free card’ back home,” Melanie offered with a lopsided smirk. “Something people try to use to excuse them of any consequences for their actions.”

“You’ll have to tell me more about that particular turn of phrase someday,” Ais’lyn offered as she stood, stretching. “For now, however, if your clothing is mostly dry then I believe we should begin heading back.”

Everyone, at once, began to move. Not urgently, as though she had given an order, but there was an unmistakable presence of mind among everyone present that when she said it was time to go, it was time to go. The sailor’s eyes sparkled as he watched, impressed, and even spread a smile as he felt Melanie naturally go to work as well, her finger sliding up next to him for support as he carefully slid his way back to the ground, taking a few steps away and turning to accept his vest and coat from her.

The trek to and from the pond was so much faster with mounted escort, Melanie couldn’t help but to smile contentedly as they walked back toward the grounds, Henry opting to sit on her shoulder instead of standing this time to try and reduce the strain on his injuries. 

“Any plans in mind for when you both return to the grounds?” Ais’lyn’s voice called back up to them from her position at the head of the formation.

“If I’m cleared for it,” Melanie responded as she took strides alongside Francine on her mount, “I’d like to help with the construction efforts happening on the grounds. I’d like to speed up those projects as much as I’m able to, ma’am.”

“I should probably let the medics put me back on ice for a while, honestly ma’am,” Henry responded. “Before they strap me down and force it on me,” he muttered into Melanie’s ear, making her smile.

“Yes, you should absolutely rest back in the office or a bunk. I’d like to have some time to talk with you about your job as liaison without distracting Melanie from her tasks,” the General called thoughtfully. “Is your load uncomfortable?”

“Not enough to bother stopping before we make it back, ma’am,” the giant replied, taking a quick second to check her large bundle of clothing and soaps. “Thank you for the concern.”

“Remember what the Commander said earlier,” Henry whispered to her, watching her make a tiny but huge nod as she pretended she never heard anything. “Nothing heavier than the beams.”

Melanie took a deep inhale, trying not to frown. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a long-term arrangement. Pretending twenty pounds of weight was a struggle didn’t feel like a bit of acting she could manage in any kind of convincing way after all of the training she had done before they sailed away from home.

Chapter Text

 “Is it going to be a concern?” Henry asked, again, his voice starting to sound openly annoyed.

 “It may,” came the Captain’s stressed, irritated response. Again.

 The commandeered bunk-room-turned-meeting-room was dim, only the light through its two tall, narrow paned windows illuminating it, dust floating in the harsh beams that slanted in through to the floor. Twelve beds, ten of them stacked in pairs with two singles for lieutenants, were packed tightly into the room; a result of the Captain’s efforts to rearrange the facility to accommodate the addition of the Noble Guard to the active duties. Typically each room would have eight beds in pairs and one single, to maintain and separate squads, but with the excitement of this week, everything about normal life in the Watch was finding itself in some kind of disarray.

 “I just don’t see the point in trying to work our way through hypotheticals right now,” Henry sighed from one of the bunks that was awkwardly placed in the middle of the room. “She’s quick to respond and quick to react. When we have a clear idea of what we’ll need her to do, we ask her. It’s that easy,” he said, gesturing toward the three men and nodding his head toward the window he was facing. Outside, Melanie was bracing multiple racks of scaffolding as men scrambled to tie them all in place. “You know her, Daniel, if we--”

 “I don’t know her,” the Captain corrected him in a huff, gesturing with his own arm out toward the window. “It’s been barely a matter of days, Lemuels, and we need to be ready for any possibility here.”

 “This is just an airing of concerns,” Martellis reminded them both, tiredly, from his spot in front of one of the other bunks in the room. “This is not a call to action, at the moment, it is merely a discussion among all parties.”

 “All parties but her,” Henry said pointedly.

 “This is your job,” Daniel retorted. “We can’t have a private conversation with a woman whose breathing can be heard a town away.”

 “Captain,” Commander Martellis and Corporal Lionus warned at the same time.

 “It’s a point made, regardless of decorum,” Henry admitted with a roll of his eyes, turning his attention back out the window as he shifted his leg under the bags of ice lying on it. “Lack of private conversation with her is a concern I have to air as well--”

 “You can speak to her privately just fine from what we’ve witnessed,” the Captain muttered, moving to sit down on the edge of a bed with a grunt.

 “Captain,” Martellis sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.

 “One-way communication is not what I’m talking about, Daniel,” Henry retorted, flatly. 

 “It’s the only kind of communication we need in order to operate efficiently,” Daniel snapped back.

“We’ll need to have discussions; private ones--” Henry started to argue.

 “Well,” Martellis interjected reluctantly as Daniel opened his mouth to also argue. “That may not be something we can accommodate, Henry, given the--”

 “She is a person,” Henry stressed, staring at the Commander as he became exasperated. “Peter, the woman can’t be expected to spend the whole of her time here having every word treated as though it’s on record.”

 “I know that, Henry, I understand-- truly, I do,” Martellis said, raising his hands in surrender as Daniel crossed his arms with a frown. “Where it comes to a concern of logistics and consent, however, my hands are quite firmly tied in a number of ways. You’re both under the direction of the Watch, and the Watch is still under the direction of the King and His Representation.”

 The two men’s eyes met and locked, Peter trying desperately to communicate for Henry to trust him; Henry desperately trying to communicate the same back to the Commander.

 “If it puts your mind at ease a little, Mr. Henry sir,” Lionus piped up, smashing the tension in the room with his brighter tone. “All conversations regarding her medical care are private and confidential to every end we can accommodate, regardless of the opinions of any bureaucrats.”

 “Corporal,” Daniel mumbled, low.

 “It’s a tenet of the Decrees of Truth,” Lionus said with a shrug, turning to face the Captain. “An Unassailable and Divine Right.”

 “Thank you, Lionus,” Henry offered softly, flashing a quick and subtle smile to the Corporal. “Your knowledge of the law and your medical expertise are both extremely appreciated.”

 The four of them sat in a quiet that the sailor took a moment to appreciate, trying to keep at bay the foreboding sense that meetings like these were going to be a routine, daily occurrence. The sounds of the construction on the grounds and the sounds of training happening closer to the facility drifted in through the windows to them, the distant and muffled sound of the General’s voice occasionally barking an order coming through clear and distinct. She had her turn with Henry for a significant amount of time before leaving and allowing the other three officers to join him.

 “I still feel like her level of communication is an area worth discussing,” Daniel chimed in, dragging the conversation back around, again. “She’s argumentative, and many of the upper ranks will find some problem with a giant that can disagree with an order.”

 “Henry,” Peter’s voice cut him off before he could open his mouth to argue with the Captain. “That is a point that needs to be very seriously considered.”

 He nodded, sighing as the urge to point out that Melanie was only argumentative with the Captain slowly ebbed itself away. “I do have a concern with that, as well,” he offered after a moment, the men all turning their attention fully to him. “If she will be handed an order that grates against her morals, I won’t lie to you-- there will likely be an outright refusal. Most of the time I believe there will simply need to be a discussion or explanation needed-- she will attempt to make alternative suggestions. She has no military experience and so taking an order and performing it immediately may be some time off.”

 “She will attempt to perform what is asked of her, to the best of her ability, but there are sometimes several… steps, to that process,” he added.

 “That is a problem,” Daniel said, flatly. “If the Navy decides to use her for some reason, they’re not going to have chats over tea about it first.”

 “You aren’t wrong,” Henry conceded, his eyes moving back to the woman across the grounds again. “It’s something I’ll need to work with her on, absolutely, and will be one of the top priorities.”

 “Any chance,” Lionus started, tepidly, walking over to adjust one of the bags of ice again as it tried to slip from Henry’s knee, “that we could perhaps convince her to… play dumb, a little?”

 The other three men in the room stared at Lionus with varying looks of curiosity.

 “King’s Tongue is a difficult and refined language, our concepts are foreign to her, she may need to ask for them to be… simplified, dumbed down, or…” The Corporal hummed, snagging on a word.

 “Recontextualized,” Henry finished, nodding. Though the other three men just looked slightly confused at the term, their expressions went beyond his notice. “I think I see the angle, Lionus.”

 “Yes,” Lionus said with relief, smiling at the man on the bunk, “use that as an excuse for why she may seem argumentative, that it’s just a matter of confusion that needs to be cleared up. Tell them they’re just… too smart, that’ll soothe the irritation enough most of the time.”

 “She’ll enjoy that,” Henry said with a dark chuckle, seeming slightly on edge at the thought. “I’ll try to discuss it with her if we can get a moment of privacy at some point in the future, before we start dealing with all of the incoming guests.”

 “Some of the lower-ranked representatives should be here for an initial look by mid-week. My plan at current,” the Commander said, suddenly dropping his voice low as he glanced around the room, “provided the General isn’t here to take charge of the events, is to not have them interact with her directly, similar to Thorne.”

 “We can’t play that card forever,” the Captain warned quietly.

 “I understand,” Peter replied, turning to Daniel with a nod. “But I will play it as often as I am given the opportunity to, for now.” He spun back around to lock with the blue-green eyes of Henry once again. “Your job as Liaison will be to answer their questions briefly, succinctly, and in a way that sets the proper expectations for when the actual members of this forthcoming Council arrive.”

 “And should these lower-ranks insist on speaking with her?” Henry asked, curiously.

 “Have her stand up on their approach,” Daniel jumped in flippantly, trying to hide a smirk. “If they’re anything like Thorne, they’ll shit themselves and turn around.”

 A round of snickering made its way through the room before Martellis cleared his throat, muttering a quiet, unenthusiastic ‘Captain’ for the sake of routine. Peter took a moment before turning to Henry, his brow furrowed with thought. “I’ll leave that to your discretion, discuss options with her as you deem fit for preparation of that possibility.”

 “Thank you, Peter,” Henry said, smiling appreciatively. “I do legitimately like Daniel’s idea as well, though.”

 “If it works…” Daniel mumbled almost musically, the two men smirking while looking pointedly away from one another, the rest of the idiom free to go unsaid.

 “Give us a heads-up as best you can on when the lookers will be around,” Henry said, slipping into a sloppy, strange cadence for a moment. “I can try to get her to restrain herself from conversation with the members she’s become more friendly with.”

 “I’ll keep Devon away from her,” Lionus laughed, Daniel looking up with a look of confusion and Peter groaning quietly.

 Henry’s head snapped to look at the Corporal again, his brow also knit. “She refused to tell me what that was about due to the General’s escort being in earshot,” he said, pointedly. “What the hell happened between the two of them?”

 “I don’t think this is going to be a particularly useful line of discussion,” Peter muttered as Lionus just started to laugh more. “I understand it amuses you, Corporal, but try to maintain some amount of decorum when they have to interact.”

 “Yes, Commander, I’ll do my best,” Lionus said, chuckling to himself a little as he tried to regain composure. “They’re both just so quick with it.”

 “...Please?” Henry asked, hesitantly, still staring at the Corporal.

 “He…” Lionus started, trying to restrain laughter as he attempted to find a way to align the timeline of events. “She caught him… No, no, that’s not it…”

 “I’m also interested in wherever this is going,” Daniel interjected curiously, Peter sighing loudly.

 “It started,” Lionus managed, the pressure on him to tell the story building exponentially with every passing moment, “because Devon thought he was making subtle expressions and he apparently very much was not. She called him out on it, they quipped for a second, and normally I imagine that would’ve been the end of it. Then he… made a comment about her she took immense offense toward, and it just… well, it spiraled from there.”

 The room was quiet as all six of the other eyes stayed trained on the Corporal.

 “That answers none of my questions,” Henry said bluntly, Daniel grunting with agreement.

 Lionus threw his hands in the air with a foolish smile and a laugh. “It’s protected under the Decrees of Truth, s’all I can tell you!”

 “Alright,” Martellis drawled tiredly, smirking all the same as he turned and collected his hat from a top bunk again. “Myself and the Captain need to go make ourselves busy where the General can see us before she gets suspicious. Whenever yourself and the Corporal conclude your treatment here, feel free to resume as you were.”

 “Yes sir,” Henry and Lionus responded as the Commander put his hat back on, Daniel standing and doing the same. “Good luck out there,” Henry added, genuinely.

 “Thank you,” Peter replied with a smile and a chuckle, he and Daniel walking out the door together, closing it behind them.

 “...I mean, I am her Liaison,” Henry said suggestively after they had gone, painting a feigned look of innocence on his features. “Surely there’s some kind of legal precedent for sharing that information in these situations…?”

 Lionus grinned, cocking his head to the side as he approached the bed. “Well, when you say it like that…”

 Melanie’s hands and the better part of one forearm were engaged in bracing the next several lengths of scaffolding frames, Dawson’s crew working around her rapidly to secure them into locked positions against the posts they had erected. She took a deep inhale, focusing on the work and not the people as she listened to the First Lieutenant call orders to direct his now-expanded platoon. Wells and Francine had both joined in, helping to move materials from the piles at the center of the field to the teams at work.

 “Panel 6-B, secured!” A private yelled from the ground, Melanie waiting for Dawson’s call of ‘confirmed’ before removing her hand from the farthest panel to her right, sliding her arm down delicately against panels seven, eight and nine to keep them in place and freeing her left hand to pick up panel 10 and brace that against the last of the poles on the north side of the field. Two members on harness swapped their clips from the previous panel over to the next one, working in sync with two others on panel 6-A across with them to start fitting the rung-poles for the wooden boards to get fitted onto. 

 “When the next panel is locked, ma’am,” Miller’s voice called to her as he moved along with the ties on the ground level, two privates hanging from harnesses moving their way along on the second and third rails doing the same, “see if you can reach over with your other hand and grab us some of the planks to start fitting in.”

 “Yes sir,” she whispered with a smile, nodding at him as he grinned back at her. He was back to wearing his own hat again, Melanie having taken the Tri-corner back to keep with her things when she re-packed her items from the pond and hung her coat up on a tree. Her cuffs and top few buttons were undone, her sleeves rolled up as she worked in the heat of the day with the team.

 “Panel 7-B, secured!”

 “Confirmed,” Dawson shouted back, walking back over to their side of the efforts from the southern scaffolds, which had panels 11-A through 14-A already secured to posts using the old method. “Lowes! Full-harness secured on third rail, always!” He barked, pointing up at the highest private near Melanie, who stopped tying the support just long enough to hook two more straps from his shoulders to the bar in front of him.

 “Sorry, sir!” Came the reply as the man went back to his task, Dawson nodding sharply as he did a quick look down the line at all of the workers to check their gear.

 “Y’tired yet, miss?” Dawson called to her as he walked up to the side of her planted foot, wiping some sweat off his brow. She turned to him with a smile and a small shake of her head.

 “Just warm, sir,” she offered quietly. “The sun just isn’t giving us a break today at all.”

 He nodded with a long breath that flapped his lips. “Yeah, I’ll be calling for a break after these all get locked, I think. See how many boards we can get in place before then.”

 Melanie’s eyes took a second to scan back toward the facility, not identifying any of the commanding officers immediately from the crowds at that end. “Am I allowed to ask what these structures are for, sir?” She asked, carefully, as she moved her eyes back down to Dawson. “They’re wider than the ones back by my section, but they look completely different from the ones by the facility. I’ve been trying to figure them out since I got here.”

 “You don’t have anything like this where you’re from?” Dawson asked, walking over to start clambering up her side of panel 6 as the inner-crew continued with the rungs. A call of ‘panel 8-b, secured’ rang out, Dawson nodding and shouting back. “Confirmed!”

 “We have scaffolding similar to this,” Melanie said, sliding down further and removing her hand from the newest secured panel, “but it’s almost exclusively used for supporting people while they build or repair more permanent structures. I don’t know if I’ve seen them as free-standing structures on their own, before,” she explained, adding a rushed nearly-forgotten ‘sir’ at the end as she watched him hook and unhook his harness on the scaffolding as he climbed.

 “Huh,” Dawson uttered between breaths as he made it to the third rail, one of the thickest supports on the structure, and hooked on his additional harness straps. He whistled two notes, waving with a hand to the private under him on the other side to move to the outside of the structure and climb up before turning back to Melanie. “These are audience towers and walks,” he said, letting his arms rest on the bar, “standard single-frame structure. For people to watch what’s happening on the grounds or to direct, if necessary.”

 She nodded, adjusting her position slightly as she felt the leg that was folded underneath her start going to sleep. It didn’t slip by her that the newest reason to build a viewing stand this tall was: her.

 “The ones by your area are the same, but for less people,” Dawson continued. “These ones have special instructions to leave the ends open, and the top level to have no guard railing, per the General. The ones by the facility can serve as audience and staging frames, as you saw this morning, but they’re also meant for climbing drills and extremely advanced cavalry training.”

 Her eyes followed his arm as he pointed toward the scaffolding structure nearest the horse paddock, nodding as he continued. “Cavalry drills’re meant to train horses for sieges or operations in tight alleys, city-scape kinda deals, but if you follow the tops of each tier, you can kinda see the levels of height for buildings and ships, to train for boarding and infiltration.”

 “We mostly just train for boarding, ma’am,” Miller called up to her, getting her attention as he finished the last bottom-row tie on panel 10-B, right in front of her good knee. “Noble ranks and the Country Watches, when they use the facility, will train for building-scaling.”

 “Panel 6, locked!”

 “Panel 9-b, secured!”

 “Confirmed!” Dawson called, his eyebrows raising as he leaned back as far as his harness would let him, glancing down at the remaining work. “We’re moving fast,” he said, sounding impressed. “Miller, head on up and help with the planks.”

 “You got it, sir!” Miller said as Melanie started to adjust herself down to the last panel, freeing up everything but one hand completely. She slid her leg back, making sure she had an easy reach to the stacks of wooden boards as Miller slipped to the outside of the scaffolding, double-checking his harness.

 “Here,” she whispered, almost a mutter, as her free hand slid on the ground next to him, palm up. Edmund’s eyes jumped up to hers with a giant grin, causing her eyes to dart away as she nodded. “Crouch down, it’s more stable,” she mumbled, trying to keep the color out of her cheeks at least a little.

 “Yes, ma’am,” he replied excitedly, stepping on and wobbling slightly as he adjusted to the feel. He was hefty, probably similar or a bit heavier than Henry, but absolutely lacked the balance Henry had as she lifted him smoothly, straight up to the top rail while she tried to ignore that a significant portion of the construction crew was watching them.

 “Top clips on the top rail,” she reminded him after he had finished securing the hip-straps on his harness, him nodding excitedly as he grabbed for the shoulder straps and hooked them on as well, fumbling with them briefly.

 “Feet on the support bar,” Dawson directed, still leaned out with one arm hanging as he watched. Miller called an affirmation and stuck out his feet one after the other until he was fully on the scaffolding, Melanie waiting a second before removing her hand with a nod.

 “Thank you, ma’am!” Edmund called, sounding positively giddy as she turned to get the first four or five planks of wood from the stack, a smile spreading across her face.

 “No problem, Miller, sir,” she said quietly, turning back to carefully start offering planks of wood to the men up top under Dawson’s direction. “Are you ok?”

 “Better than ok, but that’s going to go straight to my head, ma’am,” Edmund admitted with a laugh. “Only the young ones bother calling me sir.”

Melanie laughed, sliding the next board out from the stack in her hand with her thumb, Dawson and the man across from him handing them down to the crews below as they started filling out the four levels of panel 6.

Almost rapid-fire the panels finished being secured, locked, and floored as 10-b getting secured meant she had both hands free to pass along planks and any extra materials that Dawson requested she grab. 

“Very good work, everyone,” Dawson shouted as she handed the last plank to him and Miller, the two of them securing their side in place as the privates on the other side did the same. “Cool off and get some water in ya! We get back at it in twenty.”

 Miller turned, his mouth open to ask but not needing to as Melanie’s hand came up carefully under him, letting him drop his feet onto it as Dawson and the rest started hooking their way back down the structure. “Face out,” she chuckled, pointing with her other hand as he tried to spin and look at her, Miller staggering slightly as he took the direction quickly. “Are you ok?” She asked again when her hand had landed on the ground carefully, Miller grabbing her thumb for support as he stepped off.

 “Yes, ma’am, thank you,” he said with a grin that probably could’ve been seen from space. He squeezed the tip of her thumb gently before letting it go. “I’ll get you some water!”

 She smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you, Miller. Make sure there’s enough for everyone else, first.”

 Wells and Francine both walked over as Miller jogged off to look for a barrel of water for her, Francine smiling as she watched Miller go. “All good, ma’am?” Wells called up.

 “All good, just need to let my legs stretch out for a bit while I sit down, sir,” she replied quietly, her eyes moving to watch the construction crew all convene around the remaining supplies for the southern scaffolding.

 “Wells is fine, ma’am,” he chuckled up at her. “Appreciate it though, it’s good practice for the high-hats.”

 Melanie flashed a proud grin, nodding. “Thank you, Wells.”

 “Stand up and stretch your legs a bit, ma’am,” Francine suggested, motioning toward the other side of the field. “Have a seat behind everyone if that’s more comfortable for you, so you can lay your legs out.”

 “Thank you, Francine,” she said, pushing herself up and ignoring the stares-- notably less now that she had spent a few hours with the crew, but still a reality she was dealing with-- while she walked in a slow circle toward her end of the field, stretching and rolling her ankles as she went to get some relief back into her joints.

 She took a deep breath, swinging both of her arms up behind her head as she stretched back, turning to face the facility again and seeing if she could make out anyone familiar from this distance.

 The General was easy, her hat was the most noticeable thing for miles and honestly just made the giant delightfully jealous everytime she laid eyes on it. The Commander and Captain were almost easy-- they were in dressier uniforms, and while she was sure there were differences between them, if both of their hats were on she couldn’t tell who was who at a distance unless they were turned back-on, and even then sometimes the Captain had his hair pulled over a shoulder or under his collar. All three seemed to be engaged in something or another back around the facility.

 Lionus was nearly impossible to pick out of a crowd, beyond the slight difference in medic field attire compared to the other Watch members’ uniforms, so she had no idea if he was outside or in at the moment. Kendrick was easy, even with the hat on his red hair stuck out like a neon sign, and Devon was essentially invisible if she couldn’t see his moody face, so there was no telling which one might be him. Jones and Chase were also still impossible to pick out of a crowd unless she got a look at how they moved; Jones had a very straight posture and elegant gait when walking, and Chase always squared his shoulders.

 Theresa was easy, she had a unique uniform that only the Duke’s assistant also wore. Cassandra Greibes was the only other Noble Guard she really knew by name yet, and she couldn’t remember seeing her yet today. Her eyes drifted back down in front of her to find Miller coming out of the construction crowd rolling a barrel of water, steel cups hanging by their handles off of his harness, and she made her way back toward him and the First Lieutenants.

 They sat somewhat removed from the rest of the team, giving Melanie a lot of room to stretch her legs out back toward the finished scaffolding as she looked over it proudly. The conversations of the team were growing, and the sounds of laughter and talking was putting her significantly more at ease about being there, though now she found herself hesitant to talk in case the sound of her voice made them uncomfortable.

 Miller and Wells were engaged in a conversation with Francine about different drills and promotional merits between the Watch and the Noble Guard, a topic that was going completely over Melanie’s head as she sipped away at her water.

 “Melanie!”

 The shout was so unexpected it took her a moment to locate where it had come from as she and her lieutenants all turned to see Dawson standing in the midst of the workers still gathered around, sitting on various stacks and piles of material. She inclined her head as she locked eyes with him. “Yes, sir?”

 “Are you able to repeat what you were doing for the north side on the rest of the southern side?” He asked, all heads turning between the two of them. His tone was leading, pointed, and there was something about the look on his face. Melanie wondered if this had something to do with a small cluster of privates seated behind him who seemed apprehensive about the conversation.

 “Absolutely,” she replied, cocking her head to the side. “Unless there’s a reason you wouldn’t want an early day, sir?”

 He grinned at her, nodding. “Just asking, thank you. We’ll get you back at it after the break.”

 “Yes, sir, just tell me where you need me,” she replied with a grin of her own, holding up her barrel of water to him.

 “Good answer,” Wells said, turning to face her with a smile. She slid her legs out a bit further, turning to lie on her side so her ears were closer to them all. “They seem to be coming along quickly enough, but Dawson seems to be losing his patience with the newer ones.”

 “It’s ok if they’re uncomfortable,” she breathed quietly, bringing the barrel to her lips again as she leaned on one arm. Miller stood, stretching and strutting over to her boldly as Francine took another deep drink of her water before chiming in.

 “There’s an adjustment period for everyone, ma’am,” the Guardswoman stated, leaning back on both of her hands as she stretched her own legs out on the dirt, “and adjustment involves discomfort.”

 Melanie tilted her head with an impressed expression toward Francine, nodding. “Thank you, Francine,” she whispered. “I appreciate that perspective.”

 “Do you mind?” Miller asked, casually, getting her focus as he gestured at her forearm. She smirked, her eyes darting up to the treeline as she shook her head, trying not to think too hard about the situation.

 “I don’t if you don’t,” she whispered in concession.

 “Bravest man in the troops,” he stated quietly in reply, turning and sitting down just above her wrist. Her eyes moved back down to Wells and Francine who were nodding respectfully at Edmund’s move, her gaze briefly passing over a variety of stares amongst the construction team that ranged from curiosity to surprise. Miller, to his credit, immediately dove back into his conversation with Wells and Francine as the giant woman used her free hand to finish off the last of her water, essentially being given the freedom to ignore him.

 Title aside, ‘The Leader of The Idiot Brigade’ was becoming one of her most reliable, considerate, and thoughtful allies.

Chapter Text

The large parade of Watch soldiers that had arrived that morning were mounting up and marching off from the facility, Melanie waving to the ones she had worked with today and smiling as most of them waved back. Minus Dawson, Miller, and several of the more experienced privates, the construction crew was clearing out, and the giant woman saluted Ais’lyn as she, Theresa and the Captain came riding forward to lead the procession back to the barracks. 

Ais’lyn had announced proudly, after returning from inspecting the construction efforts during the dinner call, that the work had been finished and that as a result a significant portion of the members would be free for the rest of the weekend. There had been a detailed roll-call, the General having final say over who was and was not staying at the Training Grounds overnight, and who would be returning in the morning, leaving those who were staying on the grounds to have a briefing with the Commander and Captain before everyone began packing up.

After watching the crowd disappear down to the logging road, Melanie turned her attention back toward the facility where Jones was waving her to a place to sit outside the mess hall again, Henry getting his leg and arm examined thoroughly by Lionus and Devon.

“Can I request permission to lay down?” She asked timidly as she walked over to them. “My back is aching from all the hunching.”

“Go ahead, miss,” Chase called to her as he came out of the mess hall with Fuller, the latter taking off his coat and stretching in the late-evening air. “Legs toward the stables or the back, just aim more away from the road in the event we get messengers running up.”

“Yes sir,” she replied warmly, the two of them grinning at each other as she moved into position, finding a good spot to spread out on her side. “Chase, have you met Henry yet?” She asked, resting her head on her folded arm.

“No miss, was gonna wait for the doctors to finish with him and then introduce myself,” Chase replied, turning to wave at Henry who waved back from around the medics. “Pleasure, sir. We passed earlier but never got a chance to speak.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Henry replied with a smile, trying to hide a flinch as Devon adjusted his leg again. “Thank you for your work, she’s told me you were a huge help to her the last few days with the Duchy.”

“Easy work, sir, she listens well,” Chase laughed.

“Thank you, Chase,” she said appreciatively, smiling. Her eyes moved to Fuller briefly, as she continued. “And thank you, Fuller, for dinner. It was fabulous.”

“Yes, Fuller,” Henry chimed in before the cook could respond, “it was fantastic, really.”

The cook grinned in surprise as a sporadic round of ‘thank yous’ made their way to him, scattered from among the group of members enjoying the air outdoors and who didn’t mind being around Melanie. “Very glad to hear it, as always,” he chuckled. “The carrots were good, then?”

“Amazing,” she gushed, sighing at a memory. “I haven’t had glazed carrots in years.”

“I’m surprised you never made us any,” Henry replied. “You talked about them enough.”

“You cook, ma’am?” Jones asked curiously, walking over to where she had draped her arm over herself, her hand resting on the ground in front of her. He gestured to it, cocking his head and she nodded at him, immediately dashing her eyes away as he took a seat on the back.

“Used to, wasn’t half bad when it was just for a couple of friends. I can’t imagine being able to make something that good for so many people though,” she said, her eyes meeting Henry’s as he inclined his head in approval after nodding to Jones.

“She’s being modest, she was actually very good,” Henry said in a tone that sounded like bragging, making her smile.

“You must’ve ate very well over there,” Chase laughed, nodding at Henry while he pulled up a seat on top of a large crate.

“I never went hungry,” he laughed in response.

“Ma’am!” Kendrick’s voice called to her from the doors to the bunk halls, Melanie smiling happily at him. “Mind if I check your head while you’re down?”

“Not at all, please,” she replied with a grin, moving her arm out from under herself so she could place her head directly on the ground for the private to assess.

“Good initiative, Kendrick!” Lionus called over his shoulder as he checked Henry’s finger strength on the broken arm. “We’ll need to check her knee after, as well, she’s been on it all afternoon despite orders.”

“It’s my knee,” she groaned quietly as Kendrick rushed over to her, quickly stepping close enough that he was too blurry to see, “and everything important happens on the ground, here. If they need my help to fix the roof tomorrow I promise I’ll keep off of it.”

“You haven’t been dragging it around today like you were yesterday, I say it’ll be fine, but if you want it to heal you need to start listening to us,” Lionus chuckled as he turned to look at her, watching her twitch slightly at Kendrick’s touch. “How is it, Ken?”

“Coming along good, sir!” Kendrick replied happily. “Will likely be a scar, but for how bad it was initially I’d say you’re really lucky, ma’am.”

Melanie sighed with relief. “That’s very good to hear, honestly. Thank you, Kendrick.”

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” he said happily as he stepped back far enough both of her eyes could focus on him, the two of them smiling at each other. “Should I check your knee…?”

“Not yet,” she said, letting her head rest on her arm again. “Jones and I just sat down. Go see if Henry needs to be poked at some more, he loves that.”

“Ha ha,” Henry retorted sarcastically.

“Commander on approach,” Miller said through a mouthful of bread as he exited the mess hall doors, his eyebrows shooting up as he looked at Jones. “That’s my seat.”

“Excuse me?” Henry and Melanie both said in laughing surprise, their inflections almost identical.

“Ed, what are you eating?” Fuller jumped in before Miller could respond to either the giant or the sailor.

“Bun,” he replied, taking another bite as he turned to look at Fuller.

“Where’d you get it?” Fuller asked dully.

“Kitchen.”

“My kitchen?”

“Yesh,” Miller replied noisily as he chewed, his body relaxed but in a stance that seemed to be offering a challenge.

“Why were you in the kitchen?” Fuller asked, his flat, dull tone reminding Melanie heavily of the Captain, if she had any reason to suspect that Grant had a sense of humor.

“Looking for you,” Miller shrugged after swallowing, going for another bite almost immediately as he kept a challenging stare locked on Fuller.

“Why were you looking for me?” Fuller asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Wanted to ask for a bun.”

“Didn’t seem to matter that I wasn’t there then,” Fuller noted, crossing his arms.

“Nobody told me ‘no’,” Miller grinned foolishly.

“Miller,” Martellis said clearly, commandingly, as he exited the mess hall at a brisk marching pace. “Kitchen duties tomorrow, daybreak.”

Fuller grinned as Miller made a grimace while his back was still to the Commander, turning as it vanished from his face and saluting. “Yes, sir,” he replied.

 A round of salutes quickly passed through the group, Melanie raising her head to sloppily bring her non-Lieutenant-supporting hand to her forehead as a substitute despite the Commander signaling a ‘hold’ for her.

 “Wrong hand,” Chase and Henry both chimed in from their respective places, Melanie sighing.

 “The other one is busy being furniture,” she said quietly to them both before propping her head up on her palm, leaning on her elbow. “Evening, Commander, how was dinner?”

 Henry raised his free arm to signal silently at her over the head of Devon, who was finally putting his boot back on; a quick flick of his thumb by the side of his neck twice meaning ‘not right now’, and then he pointed to his head, Melanie divining that he was referencing the Commander’s hat still being on.

 Melanie inclined her head toward Henry, Martellis glancing between them both along with a few other members who had caught the signal but deciding not to draw any more attention to it. He reached up, taking his hat off with a faint smile as he turned to Melanie. “Dinner was very good, thank you for asking, and thank you, Fuller,” he replied, nodding to the giant woman and sending a nod to Fuller who was absolutely basking in all of the open appreciation tonight had brought so far.

 “You’re very welcome, Commander, happy to hear it,” Fuller replied with a nod, rolling up his sleeves as the light of evening started to become golden with the sunset, the heat of the day finally starting to dissipate, Melanie’s eyes landing on his tattoos with interest but not feeling comfortable enough to ask about them.

 “So far,” the Commander said with a sigh as he looked up at Melanie again, “the plan is to have light duties for everyone tomorrow, direction by myself as needed. It will be slightly more than a skeleton crew, however the General is planning to return here tomorrow, so what I say may not matter in the slightest.” He shrugged, looking a bit tired.

 “It sounds like you should be having a quiet night, at least,” Melanie said, sounding hopeful. Miller had walked over during the course of conversation and got her attention briefly to gesture at her arm, the large woman considering it briefly before inclining her head toward him. Martellis watched with an odd expression as Edmund sat down near her knuckles, he and Jones sitting together on the back of her hand. 

 “Provided nothing comes to our attention from the barracks or any emergencies get called, it will be very quiet here, yes,” he said, sighing with notable relief at the idea. “Not the same as weekend leave, but hopefully it will be well worth the pay or the extra leave next week for everyone who’s here.”

 “I can help with whatever might be needed,” she offered eagerly. “We might be able to let more people take as much of the weekend off as possible.”

 “Some of us would like the extra wages, Melanie,” Dawson’s voice called as he also exited the mess, a mug in hand. “You work us too fast and we’ll be handed every repair job from here to the mountains.”

 “Sorry sir,” the large woman laughed. “Didn’t realize you were salary-per-diem as opposed to per-order.”

 “Pardon?” Dawson asked, a number of the men looking up in confusion as Henry brought a fist to the side of his head, tapping twice gently. ‘Dumb it down’, as Melanie recalled the signal.

 “Apologies,” she said, speaking a bit more hesitantly as she thought, “still not used to the dialect. I meant I didn’t realize your pay was for each day worked, instead of pay for each project completed.”

 “Depends on where the order comes from,” Dawson said, hopping up onto a bundled stack of poles for a less-than-comfortable seat as he took a cigarette out of his pocket. “Internal Watch-work like the grounds and repairs to the facilities is all per-day, regular duty wage unless specialty or rush-ordered. We get called on for infrastructure work around the towns or on Crown Land, we get a per project rate. You can help us with those all that you like.”

“Lieutenant,” the Commander’s voice was quiet, but still carried around the circle.

“Provided you’re cleared for it,” Dawson added, the cigarette dangling from between his lips as he reached for a match from Peters, who was also taking out a smoke.

“I like doing the work, honestly,” she said, her eyes moving to Martellis with a smile. “Makes me feel useful. I could help with roads, raising barns…”

“Alright, Mr. Henry, you’re all checked up,” Lionus’ voice interrupted her thought brightly as he helped the man put his cast back through the sling, him and Devon standing up straight and stretching themselves out. “Cane when you’re walking or standing, ice when you’re in the bunk tonight.”

“Yes, thank you very much Lionus,” Henry said, heaving a sigh of relief as he stood as well, shaking out his feet and taking the cane as Devon offered it to him. “Thank you, Devon.”

“You’re very welcome, sir,” Devon replied, overly politely. Melanie shot a skeptical look at the man’s back before intentionally trying to focus her attention away from him.

“Miss,” Lionus said firmly, watching her eyes dart away. “Your knee.”

“Can it--” she tried to ask, finally feeling comfortable.

“We’re losing the light,” Lionus laughed at her. “Can’t treat you nearly as well in the dark.”

“Personally I feel like low-light is the best light for you, ma’am,” Devon said, turning around, a few chuckles coming from the people who could see his smug expression and her furrowed brow.

“Deco--” Martellis started before Melanie cut him off, having not heard him fast enough.

“Actually, Devon, I do think I have another injury you should look at while the Corporal fixes up my leg,” she offered, her tone gentle, concerned, almost sweet. Henry immediately went rigid at the sound of it, his eyes boring into hers in a silent scream to stop while she locked eyes with Devon instead.

The Commander had no idea what was coming as he stepped back to watch, surprised by the change in demeanor, hoping to encourage it. Devon cocked his head to the side as he accepted a sachet from Lionus routinely, his eyes sparkling with actual curiosity and a noted lack of suspicion.

“There’s a crack in my ass I think deserves your attention,” she said, her expression remaining neutral as if she was genuinely concerned about it. Miller almost choked, his hand slapping down on the back of hers as he and Lionus both exploded with surprised laughter, less-explosive laughs and chuckles coming from the others outside.

Henry shook his head disappointedly, a hand coming to grab his face as he tried to stop himself from laughing. Martellis simply stared in shock, his mouth agape.

“I trust Kendrick’s assessment that it’s healing well enough, ma’am.”

Miller howled as Lionus staggered to support himself on construction materials, the entire area going up with raucous laughter as she gasped at the retort, breaking into her own offended laughs as the Commander called a very sharp ‘Decorum’ over the sound.

“Yes, sir,” Melanie and Devon replied quickly, their eyes locked over smug and restrained expressions, trying to hold their laughter back. “Sorry, sir,” Melanie added for extra politeness.

Jones rocked back in his laughter, colliding with her forearm as Miller practically collapsed into him, struggling for air as he gripped his sides.

“The two of you are getting ejected,” she mumbled, shifting her hand lightly under the two to hurry them along. “Thought you were on my side.”

“Oh,” Miller hooted, wiping tears from his face as he and Jones stood and moved away from her. “Oh that was really good, ma’am. ‘Crack in my ass’, oh lord I’m using that.”

Francine and Wells rejoined the group with Cassandra Greibes and several scattered privates at the sound of the laughter as Melanie rolled her pants up over her knee, coordinating with Lionus on whether he wanted her to stay on her side with her knees stacked so he could reach it while standing, or if he wanted her to sit up so he could treat it from the top.

“Need to make sure if we have to put something on it that it sets properly, Miss, so sitting up is the best option now even if it’s just a check,” he explained, waving at her with the back of his hand to direct her onto her backside, her damaged knee finally exposed and now on the opposite side of her from the facility and crowd of people.

She placed her hands down for him without being asked, Lionus stepping on easily and grabbing the finger of her other hand as she lifted him to her leg. “How bad is it?” She asked as he got into his usual position and started to examine it.

“Not terrible, needs a bit of the lighter stuff, still,” Lionus said, muttering toward the end. “Devon, come up and mix me a five-to-one,” he called.

Melanie turned, her hands moving into position again in front of her as she went to lower them, stopping abruptly as she saw Devon’s face draining of color and him stepping reflexively back. “That’s a lot of crowding up there,” she offered, turning back to the Corporal after a brief hesitation. “He can mix it up and I can hold it for you instead.”

Lionus turned to glance at Devon, his eyes narrowing as he went to make a comment to the man. He jerked slightly as the leg underneath him suddenly tensed and released, sending his attention upward to the giant woman as she added a quiet ‘sir’, cutting him off.

Their eyes locked as her eyebrows raised just slightly with concern, Lionus nodding and calling back quickly. “Good idea, Miss. Devon, hand it to her when it’s ready.”

“Yes, sir,” Devon replied quickly, recovering from the uncomfortable situation as her hands swiftly retreated, the small medic taking the necessary pouches out of their supply bag and getting to work. Henry walked toward them with his cane, tapping Devon’s shoulder firmly with it in hand in encouragement as he came up alongside. 

“Evening ma’am,” Cassandra called up to her from next to Francine in the brief lull that Devon’s mixing afforded them, Melanie beaming happily back.

“Evening Lieutenant Greibes,” she replied warmly. 

“I’ll be joining your next shift with Lieutenant Chase,” the dark-haired woman said, nodding toward Chase as he waved at her.

“Oh, the overnight,” Melanie said. “Thank you for taking it.”

“No problem at all, ma’am,” Cassandra replied with a grin. “I started on night watches back when I first joined, it’ll be nice to get back to it.” The giant woman smiled back at her warmly.

“Ready,” Devon said, Melanie’s eyes dropping to see Henry holding the sack of mixed ointment out from him, away from the medic as Devon busied himself with repacking his materials. She took it quickly and held it out next to Lionus, who either didn’t see the exchange or was kind enough to not make any comment.

“Ok to brace?” She asked.

“Yes ma’am, please,” Lionus said, laughing. “I’m not as steady as Henry.”

Peter Martellis took in the bizarre, cluttered painting of what life had suddenly become in his Watch. The five different uniforms mixed together; Watch and Medic field uniforms, Watch and Noble Guard Officer uniforms, the Navy Officer’s amalgamation that Henry was in. Then, this massive woman in the midst of everything, somehow becoming less strange, less jarring.

Henry and Melanie’s reunion had changed the dynamic almost completely. While she had been getting along well with a number of the members, having someone she could be as comfortable around as she was with Henry, who was just as comfortable in return, made her instantly more human. He thought back to Jones and Miller, sitting openly on her hand as if she was part of the scenery, like there was nothing strange about it.

He knew there was still apprehension; he had been seeing it all day. He left the mess hall knowing there were still members in there who were uncomfortable with what was happening, though most who felt that way had gone back to barracks. There would be a lot of apprehension going forward he assumed.

As the Commander watched this growing cluster of people interacting so easily together, so strangely comfortably, he wondered if maybe the strategies they were building to make her unapproachable, to make her seem more removed, were the correct approach. He shook his head faintly; when it came to soldiers and their usefulness in war, approachability meant little. While there was no need at present for it to happen, should the active armies and navies wish to harvest from among his Watch for soldiers to die in conflict, they’d never care if the ones they chose were amicable, friendly, or otherwise.

Peter took a sharp inhale, steeling himself. His goal was to keep her here, to make her seem like too much of an obstacle for other branches to surmount if they wanted to claim her for themselves. He could make an excuse for the other members to be comfortable around her, but not overly friendly; there was just a block for him when it came to thinking about letting anyone else see this.

“Everything alright, Commander?”

The soft voice of Lieutenant Wells came to him from what may as well have been miles away, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to the man beside him, inclining his head as he responded quietly. “All is well, First Lieutenant, thank you.”

A long silence landed between them after they nodded at each other, their eyes moving back to whatever they were watching at the time. After a long moment, Martellis sighed and caved to the subtle pressure of Wells’ continued presence.

“How obvious was it?” Martellis asked under his breath.

“You tend to grit your teeth, sir,” Wells replied in a soft mutter, neither man looking at the other. 

Peter’s eyebrows raised at the statement, his lips pursing in consideration as he nodded. He had always thought that only Daniel, and Lionus to a lesser degree, could tell how he was feeling so easily. Wells, who had only been under his command for a year since graduating from Academy, seemed to have him pinned. “I don’t know that that’s ever been brought to my attention before, thank you Wells.”

“It’s usually not this noticeable, sir,” Wells offered placatingly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

 Peter turned to Wells directly with a warm, relieved smile and inclined his head. “I’m fine for now, actually, Lieutenant Wells. I appreciate the offer, however, sincerely. I’ll let you know if I can think of anything, for now though I’m just waiting for Corporal Ethridge to finish his duties for the evening.”

 Wells smiled back amicably, Peter feeling strangely happy at this shared moment. Ahead of them Melanie was helping Lionus back to the ground with some laughter, Henry and Devon chatting quietly just to the side as the area became bathed in the rosy glow of the dying end of a gorgeous sunset.

 “Grounds needs a fire pit,” Miller stated boldly as he exited the mess hall again with another bun in each hand, confusing almost everyone but Fuller, who was just annoyed. “And Friday Ales,” he added with a mouth full of bread.

 “Training Grounds are supposed to be a temporary facility and no one is supposed to be here on weekends outside of special orders,” Chase called, looking between Miller at the mess hall doors and Jones, who was still standing near where Melanie had initially been lying, seemingly just as perplexed as everyone else about how Miller had gotten past without being noticed.

 “Thursday Ales, then,” Miller said, coming up alongside Fuller and offering him a bun either as a peace offering or a brag. “Fires are good for morale and team building, training grounds need to have one.”

 “Is that meant to be an official request?” Martellis asked, turning to stare down Miller with a cocked eyebrow. Miller stood to attention, swallowing another mouthful of bread before snapping into a salute.

 “Yes sir, can submit it in writing for you and everything!” He replied with a grin, winking.

 “I expect to see it by end of day tomorrow,” Peter retorted, nodding at Miller. He offered a surprised but amused expression as Miller responded with a wicked grin and an incline of his head.

 “Absolutely, Commander,” he shot back happily.

 “Miller, you’ve got kitchen duties tomorrow,” Melanie chimed in with a reminder as she finished chatting with Lionus and Devon, moving to lie back on her side as Henry struck off alongside her, sitting smoothly as her hand seemingly landed just for him to sit on.

 “I’ll find the time!” He snapped back defensively, shaking his head as he scolded her playfully. “Really, no faith in me.”

 She laughed as her head rested on her folded arm again, “I have faith! I just don’t want you to burn yourself out, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not working since I got here.”

 “He’s working really hard on cleaning out my damn kitchen,” Fuller interjected, biting into the bun that Miller had given him.

 “Getting a head start on duties for tomorrow,” Edmund said with a smirk, turning to look at Fuller again as he moved to lean back against the wall with him.

 “I hope everyone likes potatoes, because Miller’ll be peeling them all for me tomorrow,” Fuller announced.

 The sky had darkened almost completely, just a slight band of lighter blue still over the trees behind her small campsite at the other end of the grounds remained while more and more members vanished back into the facilities as the air got colder and the hour got later. The Commander and Lionus had gone to his office for a talk shortly after the Corporal and Devon had finished fully packing up all of their things and going over anything that needed to be replaced or refilled, leaving the crowd outside essentially commandless before lights-out. 

 The conversation had relaxed as the light had faded, the chaotic nature of their bizarre social cornucopia settling into something more subdued and cozy. As more people whittled away, leaving only a handful of people outside with them who were chatting amongst themselves, Melanie took a deep breath and rolled onto her back carefully, staring up as the stars shone overhead in the cloudless sky.

 “How do they look?” Henry’s voice carried to her quietly as he moved to sit in the crook of her neck, leaning against her shoulder with his head back to watch the stars with her.

 “The same,” she said, softly, finding familiar constellations among all of the extra stars she could see in a place with so little light pollution. “The stars, at least.”

 Henry hummed a gentle affirmation as they both watched the sky silently for a time, remembering the first time the two of them had stargazed together back at her home; resting on a giant blanket on the lawn, her arm in the air pointing out constellations to him and asking if he had different names for them. She had pointed out the seemingly constant, endless dance of satellites as they crisscrossed the night sky, stars that slowly glided across the expanse of black and light. The stars above them now were completely still. The faint noises of conversation and bustle from the facility and the grounds just beside them drifted on a delicate breeze from time to time, bringing him back to the present situation.

 He smiled, feeling and listening to her breathe comfortably around him as they observed the static stars in the growing dark. The thought of how terrible he had felt just days ago, unable to see her, unsure of if she was hurt, scared or alone, stood in sharp contrast to how he felt now, seeing her as comfortable as they had hoped she might get to be in a matter of months, socializing more than he believed either of them had imagined would be a possibility. It had only been days.

 “Lights out in twenty!” Called one of the Lieutenants from inside the mess hall as the sound of tables and chairs scraping across the stone echoed out of it.

 “Alright, miss,” Chase said in a groan as he stretched, walking toward her and Henry as the sailor awkwardly tried to push himself up. “We have to head back to our spot for the night.”

 Melanie waited as Chase offered Henry a hand, helping him up as Kendrick called out from one of the bunk-room windows he had opened, trying to direct the limping man into the right place to be iced down for the night.

 “I’ll be up in a few, Kendrick,” Henry called as Melanie rolled over. “What number is it?”

 “Four on floor two, sir, first on the left if you’re coming up from the mess!”

 “Here,” Melanie said softly as she got her feet back under her carefully, hovering her hand next to him.

 “Lift would be fine,” Henry said, not offended but still sounding stubborn.

 “Your leg is stiff,” she said with a concerned frown, “and the window looks high. Please.”

 He sighed, nodding as the two of them ignored the stares; most of the eyes on them were simply curious now, some of them even intrigued. He turned, sitting in her palm carefully as her thumb landed across his lap and was lifted smoothly to the window. Kendrick stepped back, staring with an open mouth as Henry let his legs hang over the ledge into the bunk room, tapping the giant’s thumb twice to signal he was ready.

 Melanie’s thumb lifted and her hand tipped up, letting him slide off as Kendrick smoothly moved in to support him, grinning excitedly. Melanie blushed as murmurs from other people in the bunk room reached her-- she had no excuse for not assuming there’d be others in there, but she was embarrassed all the same.

 “Any chance I could avail, ma’am?” Edmund said from next to her, hands on his hips. She smirked, glancing around quickly before putting her hand down again, this time flat on the ground.

 “Crouch down and face out,” she instructed quietly, Miller already grabbing her thumb for support. He wobbled dramatically as she lifted in a slight arch to get him to the window, falling forward just slightly into her fingers with his knees, her hand curling more protectively around him until he was steady and ready to step off into the bunk room.

 “Thank you, ma’am!” He called happily from the window, moving out of the way so Henry could step back.

 “Get a good night’s rest,” he instructed Melanie from the window, sticking his unbroken hand out for her to take between her fingers. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 “You too, please,” she whispered back. “Let Kendrick ice your leg, be nice about it.”

 “I am nice,” he stressed defensively, smirking.

 The two smiled at each other, both heaving relieved and contented sighs before she stood up, shaking out her legs just a little and following Chase and Cassandra across the grounds slowly under the cloudless, starry sky.

Chapter Text

“Did you want more?” Peter asked as he went to pour himself another small drink of port, Lionus shaking his head with a happy smile.

“No, sir, thank you,” the Corporal replied. “Can’t handle my liquor very well, honestly. Was never much of a drinker. This is lovely stuff, however, I appreciate you sharing.”

“It had honestly been so long since I’ve used this office, I had forgotten it was here until I was getting Duke William some more paper yesterday,” Peter chuckled.

They hadn’t fully bothered with the sconces on the walls, only lighting the three lanterns on tables around the room and the large one on the desk beside them. It gave the well furnished-- but currently chaotically-messy-- office a cozy, comfortable level of lighting as the two men sat across from each other.

“I do, genuinely, feel awful,” the Commander offered as he took another small sip of the strong dark drink. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you for days now but with the ongoing madness here, it just hasn’t happened.”

“There’s no reason to feel awful about it, Commander,” Lionus laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back into the padded chair. “I just hope it hasn’t been anything dire that you’ve needed to discuss.”

 Martellis shook his head, looking across the desk as he rested his elbows on it. “I more-so feel awful that I haven’t gone out of my way to speak with you much prior to now,” he admitted, quietly. “Beyond your impeccable service to the Watch over the years, you’re a great man and I foolishly let myself believe that distancing myself from you outside of duty was somehow beneficial to the regiment.”

 Hazel eyes widened, a surprised look wiping the usual jovial smile from the Corporal’s face. His wavy locks of brown hair were tousled and messy from the sweat and work of the day, and his face was sporting a red band of sunburn across the bridge of his nose now after having been outdoors with his hat off so often since the arrival of their newest charge.

 In the man’s stunned silence the Commander continued to speak, his dark brown eyes locking earnestly with the man across from him. “If anything has ever proven me so wrong in my life as the last week has proven to me about that particular sentiment, I will be shocked. Thank you, not just for your service but for your presence and very existence; not just for this past number of days, but for the entirety of the time I have known you. I am truly sorry I had not realized the need to say so before now.”

 Lionus Ethridge stared at the face of Peter Martellis for a moment, marveling at the softness he had never really seen or appreciated before these past few days. How fast can a person change under extreme circumstances? He could tell by looking at the man in front of him that the crows-feet in the corners of his eyes had come from smiling, the laugh lines starting to show around his mouth were from moments of true happiness, but how long ago had they been? How private had those moments become throughout his life that Lionus had so rarely seen an opportunity for these wrinkles to form?

 “Thank you,” Lionus’ voice said in a soft, relieved tone that was foreign to them both. “I don’t fault you for any of this, Peter. Your dedication to the regiment is beyond commendable, and regardless of our relationship before now, I’ve never been prouder to be enlisted than I have been among the Watch and under your direction.”

 Peter smiled, his eyes moving away briefly. “I’m extremely glad to hear that, Lionus,” he managed to say before taking another sip of the port. “I honestly can’t imagine how we would’ve gotten through any of this without you here, or how I personally would’ve held together without your support and expertise.”

 The lantern beside them flickered as the Corporal’s smirk came back to his face. “Yourself and the Captain would’ve persevered through it, I have no doubts on that. I’m happy to have helped ease some amount of the burden from you both, however; this is not a situation I’d wish on anyone to go through alone.”

 “No,” Peter breathed with a wide-eyed expression as he shook his head, “certainly not, regardless of how it’s wound up thus far.”

 “Mr. Henry is extremely lucky to have found her,” Lionus said quietly after a moment, listening to the soft sounds of conversation drifting to them through the office windows and the balcony doors. “I won’t be coy about it, I’ve had nightmares about it since she arrived.”

 Peter’s eyebrows lifted in surprise; of all the people to experience any kind of night-terror from this situation, he never would have expected it from Lionus. “How so?” He asked, curious as much as concerned.

 “It seems to all stem from a number of worries I’ve carried through my life,” Lionus chuckled, fidgeting as he glanced around the room, “but to summarize just… how do you feel someone would’ve been treated, here, had they shown up the size that Henry must’ve been where she lives?”

 The Corporal chuckled uncomfortably again as he glanced back at the expression on the Commander’s face, the bearded man’s mouth slightly open, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

 “Aye,” Lionus said, cocking his head to the side with an uncomfortable smile. “I don’t have terribly positive thoughts about that idea, personally, turns out.”

 “...Apparently neither do I, now that I’ve thought on it,” Martellis offered, his eyes narrowing a little before softening as he looked back at Lionus. “You haven’t had the most… respectful experience, in your time in service, from the comments you made the other day. I presume they may have some effect on these nightmares?” He asked as gently as he could. “I apologize if this is something you’d rather not speak of, we can change the topic should you prefer, I don’t mean to intrude.”

 Lionus inclined his head, biting his lip as he thought. “I’m not… I won’t be able to give you many specific details, those parts of my life are well behind me now and I’d prefer them to stay that way as much as is possible, but… yes. I can just leave it at ‘yes’, for now. Maybe some other time though,” he added quietly, nodding his head seemingly to himself. 

 His mouth opened to say something else when the call for twenty-minutes to lights out rang out onto the grounds below them, causing a quick increase in the babble and noise from outside. They both turned their attention to the window as Peter drained the last small sip from his glass, Melanie’s head coming into view as she knelt on the ground outside.

 “I wonder if Henry feels he’s as lucky as we think he is,” the Commander said thoughtfully as they overheard her fretting over him. “He told me where she came from is very different from here, in terms of how their people think and see things.”

 “That’s a question I would love to have him answer at some point, when things have settled a bit more,” Lionus replied. “When we have time to think a little less about the present and immediate future, we can all sit down around some tea and good food and talk about the past instead.”

 Noise and movement outside distracted Peter from responding and he stood quickly to peek out the nearest window, trying to look down at what was happening.

 “Problem?” Lionus asked in concern, standing and approaching the window himself.

 “No,” Peter sighed with a tired smirk. “I think she lifted Henry up to the bunk room window and then Miller.”

 Lionus laughed, shaking his head as the Commander turned from the window with another sigh. “The worst part of your job seems to be discovering new rules we need, if I can be blunt about it,” the Corporal offered as he clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

 They felt the small shakes as the giant woman’s footsteps led her away from the facility and toward the back of the grounds, the two men sitting back down in their chairs as Peter nodded. “I feel like I should correct her for decorum, but this was her first day enlisted. I guess we can give them a day or two without more important eyes around.”

 “Or the Captain’s,” Lionus added and they both chuckled. “Do you feel Grant is adjusting?”

 Leaning back into his chair, Peter flapped his lips with a long exhale. “I’m not sure. He’s making due, he’s trying, but I don’t know if it would count as ‘adjustment’ for him.” The Commander frowned, almost grimacing, as he turned his eyes back to Lionus. “That doesn’t leave here, please.”

 “Of course,” Lionus replied, nodding with a serious expression. “I am… genuinely worried about him, in this situation, all the same.”

 “I am as well,” Peter replied in a hushed tone. “I… I know that we are close companions, but I worry he isn’t being honest with me when we speak about this. He’s dedicated to the idea of keeping her here, among the Watch, from where we’ve spoken of but…”

 “You worry he’s doing it for you?” Lionus asked carefully, gently. The Commander’s eyes moved down to the desk, nodding. “Does he have any reason to not be honest with you about how he feels on this?”

 Martellis took in a deep breath, leaning back in the chair further as he looked up toward the ceiling. “I… may have made a harsh remark to him after he and Melanie got into an argument before the Staff Sergeant arrived the other day,” he said after a moment. “I feel he may have taken it to heart. I specifically scolded him about his feelings on how he felt the situation should be being handled. While I appreciate that he’s been doing his best not to repeat the… worst parts of that argument, I have noticed he’s been less forthright with me since it happened, at least when I’ve made my feelings known prior to him speaking on it.”

 Lionus nodded slowly, folding his hands on his stomach as he leaned back in his own chair, his legs crossing. “I think it shows trust in your judgment, personally,” he said consolingly. “I think he would argue if he really did think it was a matter of right or wrong, but I also don’t know him nearly as well as you.” Peter nodded slowly as he listened to the Corporal. “You may need to ask him directly for his honest input, but I don’t know if that would strain anything further for you both.”

 “I appreciate the perspective, Lionus, truly,” Martellis thanked him with a smile. “I’ll try that, for certain.”

 “Anytime, Peter. I’d love to talk to you like this again, if you’d have me.”

 “I absolutely would,” Peter grinned widely as he stood, Lionus following suit. “For now, however, it’s lights out, and we have yet another day to face tomorrow.”

 “Right you are,” Lionus laughed, reaching out to pat the Commander’s arm in a friendly manner as Peter moved around the desk to see him to the door of the office. “Enjoy your rest, sir.”

 “You as well, Lionus,” Peter replied, touching the Corporal’s shoulder. “I hope you have better dreams tonight.”

Chapter Text

“Ma’am, it’s fine,” Fuller called up to her as she continued to make a face. “It’s being counted into the records so we can estimate your rations, take as much as you like.”

“It seems excessive, though,” Melanie whined gently, looking at the heaping pile of pancakes on top of the hogshead barrel lid, and the literal bucket of honey or syrup-- she hadn’t asked-- that came with it. “Has everyone else--?”

“Yes,” Bartlett stressed, laughing. “Miss, eat the breakfast please, you’re gonna give Miller a stroke if he thinks you’re starving yourself.” 

“Ma’am, I’ve got Ed in there making you another pile just as big as this one, you have to eat at least this much,” Fuller instructed her, shaking his head.

“Okay,” she breathed, finally caving to her cravings and reaching out to grab the wooden plate and bucket, trying to hide an excited smile. “It just seems like a luxury,” she mumbled again as she poured syrup over the small round cakes, looking more like a soft breakfast cereal than a meal of pancakes at her size.

“Only thing luxurious about them this time was the eggs, and we have an excessive amount of those thanks to yesterday’s supply run from the barracks,” Fuller laughed, leaning back against the doorframe in the cool morning light of an overcast day. Kendrick, Chase, Greibes and the rest of the brigade, save for Miller, were outside enjoying their breakfast together with herself and the lead cook, the air filled with the noise of extremely satisfied eating.

Herself, Chase and Cassandra had arrived from their end of the grounds almost immediately after the breakfast call had sounded, there being a slight delay between the day-start trumpets and pancakes being ready. Kendrick was kind enough to warn her upon arrival that Henry was being checked over by Lionus and Devon upstairs, and would be down as soon as the medics were done with him.

“You have an impressive collection of tattoos,” Melanie said quietly as she nodded down toward Fuller, whose sleeves were rolled up past his elbows as he enjoyed the quick break before he had to head back to the kitchen. He inclined his head with a flattered grin, holding his arms out in front of him to take a look at them himself, everyone else who had been eating outside was also curious now.

“Been adding to them since my first job,” he remarked, smirking as the giant woman covered her mouth with one hand and used her teeth to awkwardly scoop a portion of the pancakes off of the lid into her mouth, visibly fighting the urge to make a pleased noise before she turned her eyes back to him, nodding as she listened. “Have a few on my back now as well, need to get one finished next time I get a long enough leave to hit up Klastville, but I’m happy with damn near all of them.”

“They’re so bright, have you ever had the colors touched up? Most people I know with tattoos, the colors tend to fade over the years,” she said, leaning down just a little as he held one of his arms up for her. 

“Never needed to, no. There’s been some fading I’ve noticed; the blues tend to lighten within the first couple of months but after a half year, it basically all stays the same,” he said, beaming happily as he showed a couple of them to Cassandra in detail.

“I’ll need to get you to show them to me sometime when I’m closer to the ground,” Melanie said smiling as he nodded back at her. “I always wanted a tattoo but could never get up the nerve to do it. Always thought it would hurt too much.”

“Oh it hurts like a bitch, ma’am, but you start to like it after the first one,” Fuller laughed.

“Fuller!” The loud, booming voice of Miller called out from inside the mess hall, causing Fuller to give a quick half-wave and turn immediately.

“Thank you, Fuller,” she called after him, “and tell Miller thank you too, please!”

“Yes ma’am, will do!” He called back with a laugh before disappearing through the doors.

“How is it, Miss?” Bartlett asked as she dumped the last of her first plate of pancakes into her face, chewing happily.

“Amazing,” she mumbled softly through a full mouth, her hand hovering just in front of her lips to cover it. The tall, lanky man laughed up at her, pulling up a seat on a stack of wood next to Kendrick, who was shoving chunks of pancakes into his face so fast she was worried he wasn’t taking the time to breathe.

“They’re actually very good, I was expecting at least a couple of burnt ones or somethin’ with Miller working, but he must be tryin’ to impress you,” Peters chimed in from a square block of unmortared bricks, tipping back a mug full of coffee into himself as Hicks came up to sit on the opposite side of it with his own high-stacked plate of pancakes.

“It’s working, in case anyone else would like to do the same,” she said, looking around with an expression of faux-innocence before joining into the chuckling of the rest of the brigade. “I’m not above being bribed, I’m really not.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Henry’s voice snapped her attention so fast that Bartlett nearly fell off of his seat laughing, the giant woman grinning as the small man in blue stepped out through the mess-hall doors, limping slightly but walking without his cane. “She’ll become ungovernable if you start spoiling her.”

“Clean bill of health?” Melanie asked pointedly as he walked toward where she was sitting cross-legged among the men, gesturing at her with a flat hand and pointing toward her knee in quick succession, his breakfast balanced precariously on the sling as he held his broken arm out from his chest.

“Clean enough,” he said on an exasperated sigh as she laid her hand on the ground, the men barely flinching at the movement now. He walked on, taking his plate in hand and she did a quick lift to her right knee, letting him walk off and holding a finger out to support him as he lowered into a seat on her leg. Kendrick looked up from his plate, having finally devoured everything on it ravenously, and leaned back with a hand across his midriff.

“Are you ok to be walking without the cane, sir?” The young medic asked, Henry already sloppily digging into his pancakes with a fork, trying to deal with the plate on his lap. Devon and Lionus exited the mess hall with their own breakfasts casually, Devon taking the nearest seat to the main doors and Lionus walking toward a series of barrels just to her left to hoist himself up on.

“Yes,” Henry answered in a slow drawl, Melanie raising her eyebrows toward the back of him and darting her eyes up to the other two medics skeptically. Devon shot her an unamused look over the sailor’s head.

“He has to sit when you’re moving around today,” the dark-haired medic stated before cutting into his pancakes with his fork. Melanie nodded as Henry huffed quietly.

“His hip is out,” she said in agreement, eliciting eyebrow raises from all three medics, and an impressed tip of the head from Lionus. Henry turned around to shoot her a look. “I can feel it, you’re way off.”

“It’s fine,” he tried to argue before she spoke over him.

“Don’t argue with the doctors.”

“You both need to listen to your doctors more,” Lionus scolded around bites of food. “Keep your knee off the ground today or I’ll be finding something to punish you with, Miss.”

She sighed quietly, nodding in defeat. “Yes, sir, sorry, Lionus.”

“Commander on approach,” came the bold voice of Miller as he rolled a barrel of water out through the doors, looking red in the face and splattered all down the front of his apron with pancake batter and lord only knows what else. “Hicks,” he snapped, pointing with one arm between the man and Melanie. “You’re on water duty when I’m indisposed.”

“It’s ok,” the giant woman tried to interject embarrassedly as she reached toward Edmund to cut his travel distance down, “I can get it myself if I know what barrels are water, and where they are.”

“We keep them inside, ma’am, and probably best you don’t go reaching in for them in case some non-brigade members get a spook,” he laughed as he straightened himself up, letting her pick the barrel up from its side as he patted his hips, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t taken a pry bar. “Oh, shoot, hang on a second, ma’am--”

“I’ve got it, I think,” she said, lifting it and twisting to the side of her with the least people, her mouth contorting with concentration as she squeezed the sides of the wooden barrel carefully, increasing the pressure as she pressed on one side of the lid with her thumb.

“Ma’am, I don’t think--” Hicks tried to call to her before the lid made a cracking, popping noise. Pinching it between two fingers and lifting it up like a large, wooden coin, she grinned with childish pride as she turned back to the men, only a small bit having splashed out of the barrel mostly from her own surprise.

“Heeeey!” She cheered quietly and happily for herself as Miller whooped with applause, the other brigade members looking impressed as they laughed and clapped, the giant woman handing the lid back to Miller.

“Good morning,” Commander Martellis said, politely but pointedly as he exited the hall. They all quickly snapped to salutes, Melanie still beaming like she had won a trophy despite knowing that his greeting was a disguised request for decorum.

“Good morning, Commander,” she replied warmly, holding herself back from asking him personal questions while he was still wearing his officer’s hat.

“How was your rest last night, Melanie?” He asked as he moved to stand casually at about the midpoint of the small area. “The temperature dropped significantly.”

“That was wonderful, honestly,” she breathed as she let her head tip back. “I’m not a tremendous fan of the heat, most of the time. My back is doing better after a night on the ground, as well.”

“Very good to hear,” he responded with a genuinely pleased smile after trying to puzzle through her diction.

“How did you sleep, sir?” She asked, Henry patting her thigh gently in a subtle attempt to reign in her friendly curiosity, the giant woman lifting her free hand up to rest behind him as she nudged him in acknowledgement.

“Very well, thank you for asking,” he chuckled, both of them smiling. He turned to address the crowd around him, and also looked back into the mess hall to anyone who may have still been indoors, Melanie drinking more water as she listened. “We should be receiving the General, Captain, and their entourage sometime after breakfast concludes, so rest and enjoy yourselves for now, unless Lieutenant Dawson has something you could be doing.”

Dawson exited the building, pulling out a cigarette as he came. “Could do a quick run-over of the older structures to check for wear and tear, other than that there’s nothing I can think of.”

“Any chance I can help with the inspection?” Melanie asked eagerly, Miller making a loud noise in protest, getting her attention back on him as he took another large ‘plate’ of pancakes from two of the other kitchen workers at the doors of the mess, starting to walk it over to her.

“Finish eating first ma’am, please,” he begged over ragged breaths as he tried to handle the barrel lid solo. 

“Miller,” she sighed, bracing her weight with a hand on the ground and leaning forward to take the lid from him with the other, “the first pile was enough, I promise!”

“No, I put in a lot of work on these,” he said sharply, placing one hand on his hips as he pointed between her and the pile with the other. “Was up before the sun to get them done, so eat it.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh, Henry chuckling with a surprised expression at Miller’s tone. “Yes, sir, sorry sir.” The barrel-chested man in the apron flashed a lopsided and playful grin up at her, nodding.

 Dawson piped up as he finally got his smoke lit, taking a long drag off of it as he leaned back against the wall a decent ways away from the crowd. “Yes, I’ll run you through how to identify good and bad ties, Melanie,” he called, smirking at her excited smile. “After breakfast though,” he added as Miller shot him a look.

 “The pancakes really are delicious, Edmund,” Henry called to him from his spot on her knee, having struggled slightly to get through about half of his stack so far. “Thank you for the work you put in.”

 Miller’s face beamed proudly. “Thank you for saying so, sir! Not usually in the kitchen much in a cooking sense, so it was a fun way to start the morning.”

 “They’re wonderful,” Melanie added from behind Henry, her mouth covered as she finished chewing a small mouthful of the pancakes she had been given. “I love pancakes.”

 Beyond her notice as she went for her next small mouthful of cakes, Miller winked as Henry inclined his head in acknowledgement, both men smiling at each other. Edmund had taken the bunk next to the battered sailor last night while his leg was being iced, and had probed him with questions about himself and Melanie until they were encouraged to stop talking and go to sleep. 

 Henry awkwardly brought the last chunk of pancake to his mouth from his lap and chewed, smiling warmly at the thought. Jones, despite being much more restrained, and Kendrick who seemed all-together too nervous, surrounded him in the bunks and listened eagerly as Miller came up with question after question, and much to Henry’s delight they were strangely polite, even thoughtful in a way.

 He had been waiting since the moment they had been found on the beach for the awkward interrogations and pointed, personal questions. Both of them had worried about the kind of things they’d be asked-- well, mostly that he’d be asked, as he would be the most approachable, the most relatable to anyone doing the interrogation if they had found their way to his home as they did-- and Melanie squirmed uncomfortably every time the discussion came up as to how they would try to answer things.

 “I hate the idea that you’d tell them that you were living in a cupboard or that you were using doll’s furniture,” she had muttered late one night while they chatted before sleep. “It feels monstrous in that context.”

 His sigh had filled the massive room while he gently stroked the back of her hand as she lay beside him, her fingers across his lap. “None of those things were monstrous,” he said soothingly. “Most of the furniture is my own, the few pieces you had to acquire for me were necessary or done at my request. You accommodate me more than would be expected anywhere else.”
 
 The few times he had had to mention the doll’s furniture so far, to Kendrick and Miller et al respectfully, the news hadn’t been shocking or horrifying to them. Their interest, in all honesty, likely would’ve delighted her if it didn’t embarrass her so much. Edmund’s questions, particularly, drummed up extremely pleasant memories for Henry, which is how the topic of breakfast had come up.

 “Was there anything she liked to eat at home much, sir?” Miller had asked, propped up on an elbow and leaning so far over the edge of his bunk that Henry was positive he was going to fall straight to the floor on the next breath.

 “She had a large number of favourite foods, but all of them seem too complicated to remember now,” Henry had chuckled quietly, staring up at the bottom of the bunk that Kendrick was lying on over him, unseen but obviously eagerly absorbing every detail. “Our first meals, for the most part, were simple pieces of meat, bread and cheese with some fruits on occasion, but the first morning we had spent together after the wreck she made pancakes for me.”

 He had hummed thoughtfully, furrowing his brow. “She made pancakes quite a bit, and enjoyed them every time,” he had told the crowd of men quietly, not wanting to divulge that she would claim she made the pancakes as often as she did because of how simple it was back at her home, the two-ingredient mix being fast and easy to prepare. He remembered her face the times she had made them with chocolate chips, or when they had thrown the fresh blueberries they had picked into them and smiled to himself; he had never thought before that she actually loved pancakes.

 “Pancakes it is, then,” Miller had declared with no further prompting necessary, jumping to the next questions about her home, her lifestyle, what the two of them spent time together doing, until Devon had blown the lantern out with a loud huff and a sharp reminder that Miller would need to be up before dawn.

 Underneath him, he could tell she felt relaxed. The tensions and worries of her being treated as inhuman weren’t completely gone-- he wasn’t foolish enough to believe they would evaporate-- but despite how much he hated their name, the Idiot Brigade really did seem to have been the best thing that could’ve happened to her. As he watched her and Peter having polite conversation over the heads of everyone else outside, he marveled at how relaxed even Peter Martellis was.

 The Commander removed his hat as they continued talking about what activities she might be able to join the rest of the Watch members in for the near future, and for a flash of a moment he remembered the young Peter; the baby-faced boy who had joined the Academy fresh off of an apparently disastrous stint as a cattle herder, before the weight of responsibility had continued to pile and build on his capable, clever, steady shoulders, as it does naturally to the men and women of this world who dare to be reliable, strong, and smart.

 The horns for the second breakfast call sounded from near the stables, and Henry braced himself with his good arm as Melanie rocked back to look toward the source of the sound. “It’s just the breakfast call,” Henry called carefully to her, turning to see the curious look on her face fade to delight as she looked at something he couldn’t see past the extended wall of the staging room at the end of the facility.

 “I know,” she whispered to him, a finger coming to rest against him gently, “I hadn’t been close enough to see where it was coming from before. Hi, Jarvis!”

 “Morning, ma’am!” A man’s voice called back. “I’m needed back for kitchen duties, but have a good day if I don’t see you!”

 She practically glowed, nodding toward the unseen man and replying politely in kind as Henry shook his head with a relieved smile. An echoing voice of her worried self, pouting as she lay in bed next to him, whispered in his mind.

 “I just hope the chains aren’t going to be too tight,” she had fretted back then. It was enough to make him laugh out loud.

Chapter Text

 Captain Daniel Grant was exhausted.

 He had been tired before. He had been run-down, beat-out, dragged to the very end of himself, but nothing compared to how he felt this morning.

 As his eyes landed on the form of Commander Martellis after reaching the top of the turn-off, he wanted to scream at the man. ‘How do you even manage this?’

 Seeing how much more fresh, rested, and even… happy Martellis looked this morning after a night away from the General and the chaos ongoing at the barracks, the answer was surprisingly obvious; apparently, he barely managed it at all.

 “Excellent,” the General’s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip, and while Daniel Grant would never flinch at the sound, he could tell he had begun to develop an eye-twitch somewhere along the left side of his brow. “Who is it she’s speaking with?”

 The Captain’s eyes moved from the Commander almost in confusion to the giant woman on the other side of the facility, squat awkwardly with her hands at work with a length of canvas stripping that looked like thread between her fingers. She was nodding and tying support knots up the full height of the staging scaffolds as Dawson climbed in time with each knot, gesturing enthusiastically as he instructed her. “First Lieutenant Dawson, the constr--”

 “Lead Construction Director, yes,” Ais’lyn talked over him in a tone that seemed annoyed that he had had the audacity to answer the question she had asked him. He wondered if this new eye twitch was the same as the one from a moment ago. “Excellent,” she repeated, “she seems drawn to that kind of work. Do you suppose she has a history with it or is it coming back to her primary motivations?”

 “That would be a question for Lemuels, ma’--” Grant began in his natural, dull tone, feeling like he was winking now from his tics as she talked over him again.

 “Yes, where is Henry?” She snapped impatiently, looking around as their horses came to a halt and the Commander approached. Everyone snapped into sharp salutes once their feet were on the ground, Daniel intentionally dismounting on the side of his horse that put him as far away from the General as he could be without literally turning and running into the woods.

 “Good morning, General. Captain,” the Commander greeted them both with a refreshing smile. Behind Martellis, Melanie and Dawson’s eyes both landed on the small procession of men and women and their small cart, the massive woman adjusting herself away from the scaffolding enough to snap as proper a salute as possible while still squatting, smiling happily. 

Grant snapped his eyes away and back to the Commander; as pleased as he was that her form had improved, he didn’t know if he was annoyed by her not coming to stand though it was admittedly impractical, annoyed that she had done it while so far out of the normal range of it being expected-- though at her size the perspective was relatively on par--, or just simply annoyed that she had noticed him at all.
  
“Good morning Peter, dear,” Ais’lyn sighed as she immediately removed her giant hat, “how did the night go, here?”

“It went well, ma’am,” he replied easily. “And for yourself?”

“William wants everyone currently stationed here at the barracks tomorrow, at the latest, and he was being utterly insufferable in his insistence all night,” she replied in aggravation as privates came to take the horses to the paddocks, herself and Grant approaching together. “I was only finally given the grace of rest after promising him we would, and I need Henry to come join us for conversation-- the Corporal as well, actually-- in the office as soon as I’m done with this morning’s event.”

“This morning’s event, ma’am?” The Commander asked curiously, his eyes darting just for a moment to a sudden look of confusion that crossed the Captain’s face, the two men locking eyes in brief concern before turning back to the General, who was adjusting her gloves.

“Cake was requested for Private March’s anniversary of joining the Watch, so I made sure to acquire some,” she said casually, looking up and darting her fiery emerald eyes around the grounds as she near-silently clicked her tongue; she was evidently counting heads. “It was too short notice to put in a detailed custom order, but I have a bakery I attend to for most of these needs, and they truly came through in a pinch.”

Peter’s mouth opened nearly as wide as his eyes while the gears began to turn in his memory, trying not to let an unprofessional emotion show too obviously on his features. “The men typically don’t receive cake on their anni--”

“I was quite convinced that it would be a wonderful new tradition to adopt,” Ais’lyn interrupted him, shooting him a sly smile. “It could also double as--”

“A morale boost for the men,” Martellis sighed with a smile he couldn’t hide anymore, turning his eyes to the tops of his shoes a moment as he tried to shoo away the thought that he had absolutely, completely, lost control of his forces in this bizarre situation. “Yes, I believe we were both convinced in a similar manner. I should’ve suspected faster, honestly.”

“Precisely,” she agreed, flashing her dazzling smile as her head tilted. “If you both would like to partake, I’m having Theresa and some of the other guards bring it all to the staging room. We can have everyone file in and out as they see fit, but I’d like to have at least a few in there initially with Private March for the celebratory announcement.”

“I’ll see if there’s any left after the members have theirs, ma’am,” the Commander offered placatingly, gesturing for her with one arm to head toward the facility and the grounds behind him. “Thank you very much for the offer.”

They gave their instructions to the small crew of returning soldiers and struck out toward the building, the General insisting on going about her plan on her own, with as little interference as possible. The Captain was eager to escape her, and he was glad that the Commander seemed to notice.

As they closed the office door behind them both, Daniel let out an extremely loud sigh. “Peter, how,” he stressed as he took his hat off and threw it onto desk, rubbing at his face with one hand so hard the Commander for a moment thought he was going to tear it off.

Peter chuckled as he also tossed his hat onto the desk, placing a hand on Daniel’s shoulder comfortingly. “Long morning, I’m guessing?”

“Long evening, long night, long morning,” Daniel listed with a sigh as he let his body relax under Peter’s touch. “Between herself and the Staff Sergeant-- who, by the way, did not go home for weekend leave, was up my backside literally all night with the most absurd questions, and who somehow still managed to wake up before dawn with even more ridiculous ideas-- I’m about ready to walk into the sea.”

The sound of Peter’s laughter was such a surprise to hear after so long that Daniel couldn’t help but to smile, his mood brightening significantly despite his desire to shoot a pointed, almost aggravated comment toward the Commander.

“You seem to have had a much easier time of things, here,” Daniel said in playful accusation.

“It was lovely here, yes, I apologize for not being able to hide that,” Peter laughed. “I’m shocked to hear that Thorne didn’t return home, however. The man never spends nights at Barracks anymore outside of the term-end reporting.”

“I know!” Daniel said in exasperation, running a hand over the top of his loosely tied hair as he stared out the window. Peter smiled fondly at the sight, his eyebrows raised in warm surprise; Daniel looked every inch the boy he had grown up with, once again. “It’s been years, but naturally, had to be a night when I needed to handle him alone.”

“Do I want to know?” Peter asked, gesturing for Daniel to take the seat next to him on the visitor’s side of the large oak desk, opting to save the directing chair for the General whenever she was finished organizing her chaos on the grounds.

“No,” the blonde man said firmly, setting his icy-blue eyes to meet the bearded man’s dark brown ones, “but yes. You’ll want as much of a warning on it as possible so you don’t openly choke at some of the things he’s bound to repeat.”

The two sat and turned their chairs toward each other, crossing their legs almost in synchronicity, Daniel sighing as he let his head roll back against the padded cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling. “I take it the questions and concerns are all to do with--” Peter began.

“Her. Of course.” The retort was snappy and impatient. “Wants proper, exact measurements, which I thought was for practical reasons but no, wants to look into the costs of armoring her for some or no damn reason.”

Peter blinked, his head turning faintly in confusion. “...Armor, armor?”

“Armor armor,” Daniel replied flatly, turning his gaze back to the man across from him. “I would’ve thought the suggestion of tailoring a uniform for her to be the most ridiculous thing to expect, and yet here we are. Would hollow out every mine in the southern half of the country to get her kitted out like a fairy-tale knight. Absurd. At her size? Ridiculous.”

“He hasn’t been within 10 yards of the woman,” Peter sighed, rubbing at his face, “he could at least try to have a conversation with her before making such a ridiculous--”

“Oh that’s the tamest thing he said, Peter,” Daniel interrupted him, practically in desperation as he reached out and grabbed the Commander’s wrist in emphasis. “Peter, the man is an absolute knob. I mean that with all the respect I can muster. If it weren’t for the General making it very clear she’s in the ranks now, Thorne was going to have the Royal Hall of Science do ‘intensive study’ on her and then ‘optimize her best military use’ and I swear my hair was going to fall out if he had kept talking.”

“For King’s sake, Thorne,” Peter breathed in exasperation, staring into some unseen distance as he tried to ponder the meaning of ‘optimize’, battling with himself over whether or not he should just ask. He caved under his own curiosity. “What kind of optimi--”

“He said if she was amphibious she would be best put to use in the Navy,” Daniel cut him off bluntly, and Peter could swear he saw the man’s eye twitch. “The General stepped in after that and shut it down, but I just… I can’t imagine going back into a conversation of that nature with the man.”

“Am… amphibious?” Peter stammered. 

“Absolute. Knob.” Daniel reiterated firmly, shaking his head as his eyes moved back out the window again to the grounds, watching people slowly filing their way to the staging room. They let the ridiculousness of the Staff Sergeant’s flights of fantasy hang in the air before dissipating, the Captain’s mood finally beginning to settle into something less aggravated and stressed. 

The Commander took a deep breath, his own eyes moving out the window and listening through the quiet between the both of them to the conversation and orders being called on the grounds. Every so often, Melanie’s voice carried to them faintly through the windows with her bizarre rasp, though at the scaffolding on the stable-side of the facility, they couldn’t make out what she was saying. 

“So,” Commander Martellis began, turning back to the Captain with a friendly smile, his eyebrows raised. “What kind of cakes did the General bring?”

 The large table at the front of the staging room had five large boxes placed across it, attracting the murmurs and whispers of the men and women as they filed in. The General, her assistant, and a small handful of Noble Guards were set around the mysterious objects, and as Henry entered the room with Kendrick the eyes of all of them seemed to turn to land on them, causing the rest of the room to turn and look as well.

 “Ah, the man of the hour,” the General’s voice burst forth clearly, making Henry’s body go rigid and instantly start to sweat. What had he done now? What was this wild woman planning to subject him to? “Private March, to the front please.”

 Henry felt as if someone had flipped a switch, transferring all of his anxiety to the poor red-headed and red-faced boy beside him. “Y-y-yes, ma’am,” the thin young man stammered nervously. Henry reached out to faintly rest a hand on his arm, the only soothing maneuver he knew off-hand now that he had spent so long with Melanie. It had the same gentle effect as Kendrick turned to smile at him nervously, his eyes sparkling and wet like he was heading to face his own execution.

“It has not gone beyond my notice,” General Ais’lyn began after accepting Kendrick to the front, gently but swiftly maneuvering him to stand just off to her side as she stepped in front of him, “nor has it gone beyond the notice of the Nobility as a whole, that the Watch has been under considerable strain this week. As General, my once active history would have me tell you that that is your job. That is the life you have all chosen and been assigned; to face strain after considerable strain for the continued protection and prosperity of our incredible nation.”

The General’s feet struck off across the floor, walking up the natural pathway that the members had left between the front and back of the room, all of them standing at ease as they watched her. Her voice carried so well, Henry thought, that she must never be the type of person you could lose in a crowd.

“I know instinctively that every one of you chose this path with ideas in mind of what service like this could be like. I am sure, as I once did and as all the people I knew did back in my time in the service, that upon surviving your first year in the Watch you looked back upon what you had expected and what you had experienced, and compared them.” All eyes on her, the General spun around and marched her way back to the front in fluid, determined motions. “According to the wisdoms of elder servicemen, your first year in any of His Majesty’s Services is said to prepare you for a taste of absolutely everything you could encounter in your life from then onward.”

Ais’lyn swept her arm in a grand gesture toward the windows, one of Melanie’s legs just visible out the far left side as she continued to help with the scaffolding efforts. The General’s emerald eyes blazed like flames as she flashed a wicked grin. “Evidently, they were wrong.”

Chuckles and quiet laughter rumbled around the room as she snapped herself back into an at ease stance, nodding in approval at the peanut gallery. “I should say, they were wrong for almost everyone. Among the members stationed here the last week, several of the privates in training are within their first year, and Private Kendrick March,” she said proudly, sweeping an arm toward him for everyone to see that the poor man was as red as his hair before her voice snapped all their attention back to her again, “has the incredible honour of this week landing precisely on the date of his first anniversary among the ranks. Today, in fact.”

“Given that these are exceptional circumstances, and that this happens to be quite a ceremonious occasion as well, it was suggested to me that in order to reward all of your incredible efforts this past week in the face of such unknown, and to honour the first anniversary of Private March’s service, cake should be provided.”

Henry’s eyebrows lifted in confusion for only a second as the room reacted to the news, and upon seeing Kendrick’s delighted eyes landing directly on him, the confusion immediately dissipated. ‘Any excuse for cake,’ he thought amusedly to himself.

The General directed for the cakes to be unveiled, a series of large slab cakes in a variety of flavours and toppings. Henry held back near the far end of the room as everyone else filed forward to receive a piece, Kendrick pushing through the crowd to him with a plate heaped high with samples of all the offerings, absolutely beaming.

“The General said because it was my anniversary I could try all of them,” Kendrick gushed, seeming younger and younger by the second in his innocence and giddiness. “She said my work as a medic was ‘exemplary’ and that she’s heard a lot of praise about me.”

The sailor smiled at him, clapping his good hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s well deserved, Kendrick. You’ve kept us both in good health incredibly this week. I’m glad there’s a bit of a celebration for you among it all.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Kendrick grinned wildly. “I’m going to go speak with Miss Melanie, she’ll be very excited to hear they gave me cake.”

“Oh she absolutely will,” Henry said, nodding with a chuckle as Kendrick turned to leave the room, guarding his pile of cake slices. Henry made his way to the front of the room as those with cake began to file back out to the grounds or the mess hall to eat, and more members made their way into the room upon hearing about the delicious treat awaiting them.

“A lovely idea, to provide cake,” he said leadingly as he approached the table from behind the General, Ais’lyn whipping to him with a dazzling grin. 

“I thought so as well,” she replied jovially, motioning with an arm to the variety of cakes in invitation for him to pick one for himself. “I’d presume from the insistence of the idea that, perhaps, you had your share of cakes over the course of your absence from here.”

“Not a wrong assumption at all,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked over the varieties and decided on a strawberry-topped cake for himself. “Be careful about taking all of her suggestions to heart, though, she lived a lavish life back home and will become very accustomed to being spoiled here as well.”

“Ah,” Ais’lyn expressed her surprise. “I wasn’t aware, though I do suppose I should’ve expected her to not have been living under a tree back where you had come from. I’ll have to ask you both more about all of that when we have the time. Speaking of which,” she drawled, turning her eyes sharply to him after Henry had collected a plate of cake from the guard. “I’ll need yourself up in the office for a director meeting of sorts, whenever you can make your way up there. The Commander and the Captain should be waiting already.”

“Of course, General, I’ll see if there’s anything she needs at the moment and then meet you up there,” Henry replied politely, giving a short bow in lieu of being able to salute, Ais’lyn nodding at him with an approving smile.

“Give Miss Melanie my warmest regards again, please,” the General said as he walked toward the exit.

Chapter Text

The dull overcast color of the sky was barely noticeable against the beaming smile that Melanie was giving Kendrick as Henry walked around the ends of the scaffolding to where she was working. Her massive hazel eyes jumped to him instantly, her expression softening into that familiar warm smile she gave every time she laid eyes on him after any brief separation, and he smiled back with a tilt of his head toward the plate of cake in his hands.

Her warm chuckle and happily-guilty shrug hit him with such strength that, for a moment, he was walking across the garage floor to her as she worked on the ship, or walking toward her as she knelt in the kitchen, ready to help him to the counter or the table for a meal. Her eyes snapped back to her conversation with Kendrick before the look of shock could come over the small sailor’s features, wondering if the pain he just felt was medical related, or if it could’ve been a pang of something else.

“Is it good?” She was asking the young boy as he shoveled bite after bite of each cake into his mouth.

“Deh-ish-ish,” he called back through a full mouth, his legs dangling in joy from his seat on top of one of her barrels of water, causing her to laugh brightly and cover her mouth with her hand.

“I’m so glad,” she breathed happily. “Happy Anniversary, Kendrick. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

“You’re going to rot your teeth out of your skull today with all the sugar you’ve had,” Dawson called to Kendrick as he finished inspecting Melanie’s work on the ties.

“He’ll crash in a little bit and need to go down for a nap,” Melanie chuckled in response, turning back to him. “How’s my work, boss?”

“Not bad for your first day, tightness obviously not a concern,” Dawson smirked at her. “Trying to figure out why you sometimes switch to underhand knots part way up, but I feel like it’s not an issue.”

“Finger cramps,” she replied sheepishly. “If it’s a problem I can work around them, everything’s still a bit sore and stiff from the wreck for now.”

“I’ll get the boys to give it a look over later today and see what they think, for now I want some of at least one of whatever Kendrick is devouring,” he replied, leaning back out from his harness to look down at the boy again. “You hang out with Mr. Lemuels for a bit, if anything fresh comes out in terms of orders, I’ll make sure you’re in the loop. I’ll also get you one of the spares like you wanted.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Melanie beamed as he turned to start working his carabiners to return to the ground. “If you’re comfortable with it sir, I can offer a lift.”

“I get motion sick very quickly,” Dawson laughed loudly, shaking his head. “That's why my job is building fake boats instead of climbing real ones. Thank you for the offer though, might avail of it in the future if my legs and arms are more sore than my stomach is queasy.”

“Yes sir, no problem,” she replied warmly as she watched him climb down the scaffolding next to her. Once he was on the ground he waved for her to take a seat alongside the scaffolds, her feet toward the facility and her back toward the empty grounds behind her, and she turned to Henry quickly as soon as the Lieutenant started off toward the staging room. “What did you get?”

“Strawberries and cream,” Henry replied with a laugh as her hand came toward him and he shook his head, nodding toward a lower stack of wooden beams beside Kendrick. “Not staying long, just came out to see how you were doing before I have to head up to a meeting with the brass.”

“Aww,” she offered with faint disappointment. “That sounds delicious though. Are the other men enjoying--?”

“They’re devouring them, trust me,” Henry laughed at her, flashing a lopsided grin up to her as he placed the plate on his lap and started digging into the cake. Color came to her cheeks as he smiled, her eyes sparkling back at him. 

An extremely satisfied noise erupted out of Kendrick as he leaned back, hand across his stomach and his empty plate in the other. Melanie looked at him in shock, “Kendrick, you’re going to get sick eating that fast.”

“No ma’am, years of practice!” He called back to her, Henry bursting out into a heavy laugh around a mouthful of cake.

“You two are kindred spirits,” Henry retorted, shaking his head. “She used to eat so fast she’d go into sneezing fits from not breathing.”

“Hey,” Melanie replied in offense. “I got better.”

“Only when I was there to watch you,” he scolded her back.

“Better to eat too fast than too slow, my Mother always told me,” Kendrick chimed in, Melanie flashing him a smirk from her seat as she leaned her weight back onto her hands behind her. “Best way to make sure you have enough before it runs out.”

“I like that, a lot,” she agreed, watching Henry finish the last of his cake. “Where’s the meeting?”

“Office, upstairs,” Henry replied, cocking his head toward the balcony behind him. “I’ll make my way up in a minute.”

“I’ll give you a carry, the balcony is wide enough,” Melanie offered casually. He fidgeted, about to open his mouth to insist that he could do it on his own, when Kendrick chimed in with a chipper tone from beside him.

“I recommend it, sir, your hip needs to rest as much as possible and that’s a lot of stairs, sir.”

The sailor sighed, looking at the sugar-high young man with an amused smirk. “Right you are then, Kendrick. I’ll take the lift, please.”

“Carry,” she corrected him, making him sigh as she got her feet back under her and leaned forward to hold a hand out for him, Kendrick’s delighted expression at the movement making her blush.

He handed his dishes off to the red-headed medic and stood, turning to sit in almost a huff as her thumb carefully landed across his lap. Henry took in a deep, steadying breath of the rushing air as he raised with her, the giant woman coming to stand at her full height and carefully sidestepping Kendrick as she worked her way through the small number of men and women out in the grounds to make her way to the office balcony. “You really didn’t need to,” the small man said from her palm, a bit more quietly than he would’ve otherwise now that he realized how much better she could hear him here.

“Just want to do it while I still can, especially because you need it right now,” she breathed back from above him. He turned his eyes up to the underside of her chin, smiling faintly as that pain from earlier hit him again, a pang that almost felt like longing. His hand rubbed comfortingly on the back of her thumb, and he felt her hand squeeze around him gently; not everything was different, yet. There was still something to cling to.

---

“Oh for king’s sake,” Daniel erupted in a nauseous, queasy breath, curling in on himself in reflex as he and the Commander’s eyes jumped to the motion outside the heavily-windowed balcony doors, Henry sliding off of her hand smoothly and turning to wave her away with a few kind words. He turned to look through the doors, waving with his unbroken arm before moving to straighten as much of his naval uniform as he could one-handed, waiting for Peter to come unlock the door.

“Henry,” the Commander greeted him, still wide-eyed as the door opened, the blue-clad man staring at him pointedly. “Melanie,” he added, turning to the woman who was carefully taking a step back from the balcony. She snapped to a full salute quickly, smiling.

“Commander, sir,” she greeted him softly in return, her eyes shooting through the open doors as she held the salute and smile a little longer to greet Grant indoors. “Captain.”

“As you were,” Martellis instructed as he stepped aside, letting Henry limp past him into the room.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, dropping her arm and hand and swiftly moving back to the side of the facility, her voice faintly reaching him again as she greeted several of the other members on her way.

“Problem, Commander?” Henry asked as the doors closed behind them, Peter shaking his head with a still-shocked expression.

“Simply wasn’t expecting it, that’s all,” Martellis chuckled, gesturing for Henry to take the seat he had been occupying while he went to grab the other chairs from around the room to properly set the space for the meeting.

“Daniel? Problem?” Henry’s terse voice sent a chill through Peter as it traveled to him from behind; in his shock, he had forgotten that seating the two men next to each other might not be the best for the mood at the moment.

“Didn’t realize how bad your leg was,” the Captain replied in his own terse manner, the queasiness not completely removed from his tone. 

“It’ll require a few more days,” Henry explained with forced casualness, sitting and adjusting himself in the padded chair with a restrained grunt. 

“Terribly sorry for not considering the meeting location,” Peter interjected, pulling up his chair to be beside Daniel, dropping the other next to Henry on his way past for the Corporal to occupy whenever Lionus decided to join them. “The General suggested the Office, I should’ve recommended one of the empty bunk rooms--”

“It’s not an issue, Peter, thank you for the thought though,” Henry interrupted him placatingly, smiling with genuine warmth at the man. “I managed, all the same.”

“You did, yes,” Peter replied, notably a bit more awkwardly than he would’ve liked, Henry’s eyes immediately jumping out the windows as he picked up on it.

“Any idea what this meeting will be pertaining to?” Henry asked in an attempt to distract himself from the war going on in his mind. Peter and Daniel’s reactions-- one of them notably tamer than the other’s-- were something he and Melanie had discussed needing to expect, but for some reason it stung more than he thought it would. He wanted to respect their comfort, and set the proper image of himself among the Watch and the Nobility and whoever else they would need to appeal to and appease in order to provide her what she would need, but the more he saw it made them uncomfortable-- especially Daniel-- the more it made him want to do it to push the honest truth of it; it was normal, it was fine, they were being ridiculous.

…But still there was that tiny doubt in his mind that it wasn’t, that it isn’t, that they aren’t.

“None, myself,” Peter replied with a sigh as he leaned heavily back into his chair, Daniel finally returning to a more relaxed stance after shaking off the image of Henry being deposited on the balcony. “Daniel, did she happen to give you any hints?”

“I would imagine it’s to do with--” Daniel began flatly when the sound of the door behind them opening caused them all to jump for one reason or another. The three men whipped their heads around to see Lionus struggling through the door frame, balancing three plates on one arm. “Oh for king’s sake,” Daniel breathed irritably as he jumped up to help him. 

“She ordered me to bring you both cake, I had no say in the matter,” Lionus said defensively through his chipper, amused tone as he laughed. “I brought a sample of the ones I thought you’d both like, grab whichever one appeals to you.”

“I don’t want an--” Daniel started to snap before the Commander jumped in.

“I’ll take vanilla, the Captain will have chocolate if it’s there,” Peter said clearly, the color coming to Daniel’s cheeks and ears. “It’s that or we get ripped apart when she arrives; just eat the cake please, Grant.”

“Yes, sir,” the Captain replied moodily, taking the plates with vanilla and chocolate cake from Lionus, leaving him with a lemon-looking one with marmalade between the layers, much to his delight.

“Please tell me you’ve had cake, already, Mr. Henry, or--” Lionus begged as he moved to sit beside the sailor, Henry raising his hand to politely interrupt him.

“I have, it was delicious, she saw me take it,” he explained rapidly, causing the Corporal to laugh. 

“Excellent, one less head for the stocks,” Lionus replied, digging into his cake voraciously. “Any idea what this meeting might be about, then?”

“I imagine it’ll have something to do with--” Daniel began again before the door swung open once more, the firm tap of the General’s shoes announcing her presence as he quickly rubbed at his brow where he was feeling the twitch.

“Excellent,” Ais’lyn’s voice rang clearly, all of the men snapping to salutes from their seats as she saluted back, pushing the door to slam it closed behind her and immediately removing her hat. “Everyone is here, and everyone has cake. Excellent.”

“Yes, thank you General,” Peter replied politely on behalf of them all, taking a bite off of his fork to display him actively eating it. He knew the General well enough to know she’d get irritated if he didn’t. “Did Private March--?”

“Oh he loved it,” she gushed, interrupting him, Daniel shoveling a bite of cake into his mouth quickly to try and hide his irritated expression. “Took a slice of all five to sample, absolutely giddy about the whole ordeal. I can absolutely see this becoming a tradition, now,” she laughed brightly.

“Glad to hear that he enjoyed it, ma’am,” Lionus replied, beaming. “I’ll deal with his energy crash after this meeting gets underway and finished.”

“Yes, naturally,” the General said as she moved to the directing chair of their small set-up in the office, taking a brief glance out the window first before turning to Henry and Lionus while she sat down. “William wants everyone here to be at the barracks tomorrow, where he wishes to join us for several meetings and to discuss a number of specific logistics that I, in all honesty, was too tired to commit to memory last night.”

“Everyone?” Henry and Lionus asked in unison, Lionus turning to Henry and inclining his head. 

“Yes, everyone,” Ais’lyn replied, crossing her legs under the desk and folding her hands across her lap. “So I’ll need you, Mr. Lemuels, to prepare her for travel as best as you can. I had already set a number of the weekend patrol squads back at the barracks to send out news to the neighbouring farms and houses that they may be witness to her.”

“Excuse me?” The Commander spluttered out in surprise. “So soon?”

“My dear, we’ve been staying at Thorne’s home during this ordeal and the housekeepers and workers there have been very clear that everyone in the area already knows something about her, accurate or otherwise,” she replied, sighing empathetically toward him. “My honest plan is to get her and Henry over to the barracks this afternoon and back before the end of supper call this evening so they can attend to some matters that have gone unintentionally neglected.”

“That’s definitely a bit fast, General,” Henry replied on a long breath, his eyes dropping to the desk. “What matters in specific?”

“The items from the beach clean-up have yet to be gone through and identified by yourselves, and I want that done before my husband comes over and invites any further opinions into this little--” she hesitated briefly as she swung a hand in a loose circle several times between all five of them, struggling to find words, “the ones who are actually running the show here, we’ll say.”

Daniel’s eyebrows raised as he dove for another bite of delicious, distracting cake. There was a lot to be said about his feelings on the General’s direct involvement in this situation, and none of them were going to be particularly productive at the moment.

“Ah, right,” Henry muttered, leaning back in his chair as he stretched the fingers on his broken arm idly. “We should absolutely go through them. So the plan is to have us travel there, go through the items, and travel back here for the evening, and then make the march back in the morning, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Ais’lyn affirmed, staring at the man as she tried to read his expressions, prodding him leadingly. “Your thoughts?”

“If your husband brings anyone with him tomorrow, or even if he doesn’t, it’ll be good to have her seem more confident in the travel and on arrival,” Henry managed thoughtfully after a moment of pondering. “Today is a dress rehearsal of sorts, tomorrow she’ll be performing. I can work with that angle on it.”

Peter’s eyes darted between Henry’s strange, calculating nature and the General’s fiery gaze and subtle, impressed smile. There was something about the dynamic between the two of them in this instance that made the Commander uncomfortable, but he couldn’t point a finger at exactly why. 

“Commander, Captain?” Her voice snapped the attention of the two men to her again, Grant looking to Martellis in deference to have him answer first.

“We do need those items looked at, documented and sorted,” the Commander admitted hesitantly. “I’d also like a direct look at how she might fit at the barracks, in case there’s a reason or benefit to moving her there permanently.”

The Captain shrugged with a contorted frown as the Commander looked to him. “Better to do it now while most of the barracks is off on weekend leave, we’ll have more space and less members to handle.”

Peter shot Daniel a sympathetic look before they both turned their attentions away and back to the General; he could tell that Daniel was conceding to something he didn’t want to happen at all.

“Corporal, do you feel she’s up for traveling?” Ais’lyn asked as she whipped her attention to the medic who was just polishing off the last of his cake. Lionus nodded, smirking.

“If she’s walking, she’ll be doing less damage to herself than anything else she’d wind up doing here. Physically, I think she’ll be fine for it.”

“Perfect, thank you, Corporal,” she replied with a grin. “So it sounds like we can get things in motion with a goal to leave in a few hours. Not everyone has to return to barracks with us, but if there’s a benefit any of you might see in it, I’m willing to hear it.”

“It could be a good excuse to rotate out anyone who’s been on the training grounds longer than expected, if they wished to stay back at barracks instead,” Henry offered with a shrug. “I won’t lie to you, she’d likely appreciate more people traveling with her if only to spread out the amount of attention she’s liable to get.”

“She’s aware she’s fifty feet tall, yes?” The Captain’s sharp remark made every head but Henry’s snap to him in offense, the Commander uttering a soft ‘Captain’ under his breath as warning.

“Forty-five, actually,” Henry corrected Daniel, turning to him slowly with a cold stare, “and I believe she’s more aware of it than most.”

The two men’s eyes locked with each other as the tension in the room began to grow, Henry’s eyebrows raising subtly in challenge. Before either of the men could open their mouths again, however, the General’s voice cleared the air.

“We’ll make it a full-event then, give everyone the opportunity to return to barracks and refresh any items and supplies they need. We’ll get you some fresher clothes, as well, Mr. Lemuels,” she said in an effort to diffuse the situation, the two men refusing to break eye contact with one another.

“Thank you, ma’am, I’d appreciate something that stands out a little less if it could be permitted.”

“We’ll see,” she replied noncommittally. “For now, everyone but the Captain is dismissed to whatever duties they may have, and if you have no duties at current, my suggestions would involve preparing the men and women to head out for the day.”

Grant’s eyes jumped from Henry’s flat expression to the idly-wandering gaze of the General, and then to the concerned eyes of the Commander. “Yes, ma’am,” the four men replied at varying intervals, Peter making sure he was the last to leave behind Lionus and Henry as the Corporal offered the sailor support down the many stairs to the ground floor, shooting Daniel a supportive look before he closed the door behind him.

To Daniel’s disappointment, the General seemed intent on waiting until the footsteps of all three men had almost completely faded from the stairwell before speaking, both of them still sitting in the padded chairs of the office as she regarded him slowly, up and down. “...Captain, I have a series of questions for you that are very sensitive in nature, and while I would have preferred to wait on them, it appears things are moving too fast for me to enjoy the luxury of time.”

Grant’s eyebrows raised slightly as he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Whatever you wish, General,” he replied in his blunt, professional tone. Her expression was marred by a strange mix of concern and curiosity, and her eyes flitted-- if only for a brief flash-- from him to the closed door behind him and back again, those emerald eyes shining brightly.

“There is no simple way to ask any of this, so I’ll lead with the bluntest end of the stick,” her voice was soft, genuine, but it sent his hackles up all the same; Daniel Grant felt like he was about to be asked to do something he absolutely, completely and utterly did not want to do, and he had every reason to assume it had to do with the forty-five-foot problem outside.

What was it going to be? Was he to become her direct handler, or were they satisfied with Lemuels doing that job? Was he to become a secondary liaison of sorts, between the Commander and the Duchy, regarding her? Was the General about to order him to be her personal watcher, record keeper? Was it going to be another situation like at the beach, where he had to be handled by her in order to help record her belongings? He repressed his desire to shudder as he waited for the blow to fall. The curse of service was that you must serve, after all.

“Do you wish to be removed from this situation?”

The General watched his eyes narrow and brow furrow with no expression plainly visible on her features, a blank expression that, under the fire of her green eyes, comparatively looked sad, but there was nothing to insist as such beyond the lack of passion behind her mask overall. Daniel couldn’t help but to ask; this seemed like a trap to him, and he had to be certain. “How do you mean, General?”

Her eyes didn’t move, and her expression never faltered. “The situation currently ongoing here, and all the tangled lines it’s lain and is currently laying across this small section of the Eastern Coastal Watch. Do you wish to be removed from it?”

His eyes narrowed again. Was it an offer? A threat? He felt his mouth open and close several times as he struggled for a way to phrase his lack of understanding, and the General calmly interjected again before he could form a thought.

“There are transfers that can be made,” she began slowly, quietly, and with a strange hint of caring somewhere buried deep within her professional tone. “We can have you placed among a different branch of the Watch, or separate you into a section of this Watch that will be farther removed from what is occurring here, with her. We can even have you placed among a completely different branch of His Majesty’s Services if that would be something that should appeal to you in this instance.”

The woman leaned over the desk, placing her hands on top of it with their fingers interlaced as she tilted her head toward him in consideration. “This situation is not going away, Captain, and I am sorry if this is hard news for you to bear-- you have a firm grasp on what the Watch is, what it does, how it operates… and I understand the feeling of having something occur to you and the space that you are most comfortable in that throws everything into the air and changes everything you thought that you knew.”

“It leaves us now, unfortunately, with few options,” she continued softly, her gaze dropping as she turned her face away, a strange and stoic look overcoming her. “With your skills and expertise in mind, we can place you into a branch or a section where these events will have less of an effect. Where you’ll be able to continue as you were, as much as possible, with little interruption. Or, you can remain here and join in the efforts I am making to specifically section her out, to reduce her impact as much as I can.”

Daniel stared at her, his head empty but for the growing sound of his own pulse, his breath and words catching in his throat as he still tried to make sense of what she was suggesting.

“My goal is to have a specific set of squads, possibly platoons, set to her for the sake of operations and logistics,” the General’s eyes moved back to him as she briefly chewed her lip. “They’ll be a subsection of this Watch, specifically, and that will mean being under the direct control of the Commander, still. Myself as well, when I have the freedom and see the need to interject myself as such in the future, but mostly it will come down to Peter Martellis.”

“You, Captain Grant, do not have to bear that responsibility, that effort, or that discomfort should you wish to leave. I will not hold it against you, and will make any transition to look however you would like it to look; the blame can all land on me, all you have to do is say so.”

“Why is this being offered to me?” He asked brusquely, the words shooting out of him before he was entirely sure the thought to say them had even really formed. The General was unflinching, as if she had read him like a script thousands of times previously; he hated the sensation of being so intimately known by someone so distant.

“It is being offered because you are an incredible asset. A strong, capable man who few others can compare to and even fewer could amount to equal, in my opinion and the opinion of many others among the service,” she stated firmly, leaving no room to argue. Her words, which would’ve sounded like patronizing lies from any other mouth, were sharp to the point of being harsh, like she was cutting him with them. “This is an unprecedented set of circumstances to which we are poised to potentially lose men and women from the service in the face of; not many can handle change as large and as jarring as this. This is set to shake the entire worlds of lesser men and women, and I know that that does not apply to you.”

His jaw was set as if it may never open again as he listened, his tongue rattling against the back of his teeth as if they were a cage.

“Captain Grant, I see you as one of two men in this situation. One man who is unshakable in his confidence and beliefs and who, in his determination to continue the noble traditions and principles of the Watch, will not falter or lose step behind an unprecedented event such as this.” Her flaming green eyes bore into his steady, icy-blue stare, like a volcano meeting a glacier. “That man can not survive here. The other man I see you as, is one who will let this situation shape things as it will, and who can and will adapt to the changes as they occur. One who will loosen his grip on the reins just enough to understand that sometimes too much control is bad for everyone involved.”

The General took a deep breath, pausing only a moment before speaking again. “It will be difficult, and challenging in a way I can not describe to you because I have never once, in all of my years, been through such an unbelievable situation as this before. Grant, we are not close, but from what Mary has--”

“You do not bring her into this,” the words slipped out of the cage of his mouth like venom dripping from fangs. “She does not know, and I have the responsibility to inform her of it. No one else.”

The General’s eyebrows raised and her mouth opened in surprise. “Daniel--”

“No one,” he growled. 

“As you say,” Ais’lyn replied, nodding to him as her mouth set back to a neutral expression. Her eyes danced between his, searching for something, and he had no intention of letting her find whatever she was looking for. “From what I have heard of you, regardless, you are capable of being both of the men I have described. What I need to know from you, yourself, is which one you wish to be. Because one of them will likely lead to you being much happier than the other.”

“General,” his voice snapped clearly, causing her to sit back in her seat to the full of her posture. “I chose to join in service to the King.”

“Yes, but that does not need to be in the--”

“I chose to join the Watch,” he interrupted her darkly, his eyes cooling the flames in hers. “I appreciate what you are trying to let me decide, but my decision was made long ago. This is my place, and I will remain here. If I am to be a pillar that keeps the Watch standing throughout whatever is to happen here, then I will bear that load. That is my decision.”

He stood, grabbing his hat from the desk and fixing it to his head as he stood. The General’s voice came calmly, almost warningly to him from the other side of the desk as she stood as well, watching him head for the door.

“I do not want you to be a pillar that crumbles when you can be the rope that holds steady and moves where it needs to.”

Grant came to a rigid halt, his blood running cold as she continued to speak.

“I have seen what happens to men who believe they are all that stands between peace and war, order and calamity. You will not be alone if you stay. This offer is being extended to you out of respect for the skills and strength you have; not through any misguided notions that there would be something you lack. Please, Captain, my apologies if I’ve misrepresented that point at all.”

The Captain’s hand gripped the door handle as he let a deep breath enter him. “I appreciate your apologies, General. Misrepresentation aside, my answer remains the same. I’m staying here, and it would be unwise for anyone to attempt to remove me.”

The door closed firmly behind him in his wake as he marched down the stairs, the bile in the pit of his stomach rising at a single thought. ‘What would make her think I would leave?’

Chapter Text

“Nope,” the giant woman muttered under her breath again as the sailor sat on her shoulder, strapped into her long coat. “Nooope, don’t like it.”

“Shhhh,” he tried to hush her, letting his hand caress the short hair behind her ear briefly while they were out of everyone’s view at the back of the grounds. Her breath entered her softly at the familiar touch. “It’s not a long trip, maybe an hour at most depending on the pace they’re going to set for us, and a good amount of that is still going to be in the forest.”

“I don’t want to hear screams, and I just know I’m going to hear screams,” she whined, carefully standing up after closing her dry-chest, her tarp and sleeping bag rolled up and tucked away. She checked her journal to make sure the pencil was still inside and shoved it into one of the larger pockets of the coat anxiously.

“At some point, yes, you will hear someone scream,” Henry said soothingly. “It might not be today, and it’s something we knew to come here expecting. I’m going to be with you the whole time, and we’ll be around the Watch and the Guard.”

“Can I wear my sunhat?” She asked timidly.

“That’s going to make you more noticeable,” the small man explained delicately, shaking his head with a faint smile.

“Yeah but it’ll block a lot of my vision of anyone who might be staring,” she muttered.

“There’s no need for the sunhat, I can assure you,” he replied.

She heaved an apprehensive sigh, groaning quietly as they turned back to look at the facility, everyone mounting up or loading themselves into the carts. Her mouth opened to make another complaint, Henry’s hand moving to grasp the other strap on her collar for more stability.

“Melanie,” his voice entered into her ear, causing her mouth to close and set firmly shut. “You are surrounded by people who, regardless of what you think, actually quite like you. I feel as though you need that spelled out for yourself.”

A relieved breath escaped her on a chuckle and she tipped her head toward him, bumping him gently. “I-- ok, yes,” she conceded. “Things are better than I thought they’d be. There’s still a lot to deal with though.”

“It’s been good this far, we can survive one or two less-than-optimal things,” he replied warmly. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” she whimpered softly, turning to strike off toward the facility again. “For always keeping me in check, emotionally and when I’m eating.”

He snorted out a surprised laugh, reaching up to tap her cheek playfully. “If you so much as think of uttering the phrase ‘goblin mode’ around these people, I swear I will abandon you in a town square.”

She burst out a laugh, covering her mouth quickly as every head at the facility turned to look at them, her cheeks going red. “Well, the thought’s there now, thanks,” she whispered sarcastically. Henry smirked proudly to himself; she had instantly relaxed, despite how flushed her cheeks were.

Kneeling on her good knee as she reapproached the General at the head of the procession, Melanie’s eyes fell on the Captain quickly as he made an uncomfortable face at her, turning his head sharply away. Ais’lyn’s voice snapped her attention back before she could think too much on it.

“Lieutenants Miller and Jones, and Private Moores will be riding along with you at the back of the procession, should we require any rearrangement, we’ll be calling it back up the line and it will be their responsibility to communicate that to you,” she directed clearly, gesturing with an open palm to the three members in question, Private Penelope Moores being the newest Noble addition to her guard rotation. Melanie smiled happily at them with a nod, turning back to the General attentively. “If you require us to lower our speed, call ‘pace’.”

“Is there a call for increasing speed?” She asked, her nervousness starting to show again. The General gave her a skeptical but amused look and the giant woman flashed an awkward grin in response. “Sorry, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Get into your position and we’ll head off,” the General directed, Melanie standing back up to her full height and saluting fluidly before heading toward the back of the line where Miller was waving excitedly at her.

“Excited to show you around the barracks, ma’am!” He called up to her, causing her to smile warmly.

“Excited to be shown around, sir,” she replied quietly, winking down at him as she took a space farther back at the end, shaking out her feet and rolling her ankles quickly.

Their march began shortly after, and even Henry made a comment about how impressed he was at the initial pace. Melanie could come almost to a full stride, which she was happy to go slightly slower than at least while she was still in the protection of the tall trees. The farther they got from the facility, the more nervous he could tell she was getting, both from her muscles getting tense, and also from the fact she kept walking closer and closer to the side of the road, as if she was trying to hide behind the trees as they walked.

“Unless you’re looking to upset birds,” his voice entered her ear softly the third time she had to duck under a branch to make sure he didn’t get hit by the bushels of green needles, “I think it’s safe for you to walk in the middle of the road.”

She nodded hesitantly, stepping back out into the road with a quiet, tense breath. Jones, to Henry’s appreciation, immediately brought himself and his steed to walk beside her, blocking her from heading back into the trees, Private Moores doing the same with her horse on the other side. Miller was also not oblivious to how nervous the large woman had become on their walk, and decided to fill the air with conversation between himself and Penelope, who Melanie had had almost no time to get to speak with before they were preparing to leave.

“Did you get to enjoy any of the cakes, Private Moores?” Miller called loudly to her from behind them all, working his horse through a series of technical passes in the giant woman’s wake.

“Yes, sir!” The blonde woman’s musical voice replied clearly. “The orange and lemon, was divine! What did yourself and Lieutenant Jones have?”

“Can’t say no to chocolate, personally,” Jones called with a laugh. 

“Same here!” Miller called back. “Though the strawberries and cream was also good.”

“How’d you get two, Miller?” Henry shouted down from her shoulder, unstrapping one leg to swing over so he could straddle her, leaning back against her neck with his feet in different stirrups. Melanie’s hand came up to touch him briefly with a quiet whine-- she had warned him about moving his position too much with his arm broken.

“Brigade secret, sir, can’t divulge it,” Miller shouted back up with an over-dramatic shrug, causing Henry to shake his head with a laugh, patting Melanie’s fingers lightly before encouraging her to lower her hand back down. “If it weren’t for the Navy outfit sir, I’d consider letting you in on it!”

“Oooh,” Melanie replied on a breath, the first time she had spoken since they left the safety of the grounds. “Idiot Brigade or Navy Costume, that’s a fun choice.”

“Hush, you,” Henry chided her as she chuckled, leaning back to nudge his whole back against her neck pointedly. “I’ll consider it, Miller!” He called down.

“Did you get any cake before we left, ma’am?” Penelope called up to her.

“Yes, strawberries and cream, but the toffee-sounding one had my attention for a second. I can’t say no to strawberries though,” she replied quietly. 

“Glad to hear it!” The small woman smiled up at the giantess, Melanie beaming back happily as they kept pace. Hazel eyes moved forward to the head of their procession again, noticing the light getting brighter as the canopy became sparser, and Henry felt her getting tense again, her jaw setting shut. 

Miller continued the friendly conversation below, looping his horse between Penelope and Jones as he circled Melanie in an attempt to distract her without demanding all of her attention. Henry made a note to thank him in private later for his work, in case he was disheartened by how determined the large woman’s anxieties really were.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have landed a month sooner, ma’am!” Miller called up as they approached the exit of the logging road. “We pass by the apple orchards and they were all in bloom a few weeks ago, it was gorgeous! Smelled like a dream!”

“That sounds beautiful, Miller,” Henry called back, Melanie turning to smile at him in lieu of being able to speak. Henry leaned back firmly against her neck again to try and soothe her, the sound of her teeth clacking audible to him as she fidgeted her jaw.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” a blunt voice called up from ahead of them, getting everyone’s attention suddenly as Melanie’s eyes dropped to find another horse and rider had lagged back to join their conversation. “We warned the citizenry of your smell, first.”

“Deco--” the voice of Commander Martellis started to call from the front but it was lost instantly under the sharp reply from the giant woman, who was too tense to be witty.

“Kiss every square inch of my ass, Devon,” Melanie snapped so fast that it startled the breath out of Henry, and obviously Devon as well as he started to cough from below, spurring his horse to meet back up with the main pack of travelers in the procession.

“Decorum!” Martellis shouted from the front, the bright laugh of the General barely being contained by her gloved hand as the rest of the procession burbled in a distinct mix of shock and amusement. 

“Yes, sir,” Melanie replied tersely, turning her eyes down in shame as the color came to her cheeks.

“You need to not respond to him,” Henry advised her quietly.

“He needs to keep his mouth--”

“Decorum!” The Captain’s sharper voice shouted from the front as she muttered, causing her to openly bite her tongue before setting her jaw tight again. This trip was already a disaster to her, and as they were stepping out into the bare overcast light of the day, it was about to get much worse.

Her eyes remained on the ground as her teeth clacked, Henry pressing himself firmly against her in a futile attempt to soothe her mood again. He knew it would be useless to try and convince her to look around at the scenery near them, the rolling green hills and the gnarled and twisted crabapple trees scattered across the areas. Clusters of birch trees stood in the middle of wide open fields, long grass blowing in the breeze, and for Henry to see such a sight again at this height, of trees this small, was almost comical. 

The sailor took in a deep breath of the air, the faint scent of the sea drifting to him on the breeze from the southeast, and for a moment he closed his eyes against the overcast gray light of the day. This feeling, this motion, reminded him of their hikes together along the rugged coasts of her home. Again, his mind set him to believe that when he opened his eyes he’d be surrounded by the hundreds-feet-tall gnarled pines, rocks and boulders the size of houses and manors littered through the wood, dragged there eons ago by glaciers. Flowers and grass taller than him swaying in the strong coastal winds. 

His eyes opened instead to comparative emptiness, rarely a tree that reached higher than the two of them stood among the fields on either side. From up here, it was amazing to look down at the procession ahead of them, and his mind took a moment to readjust to the idea that he was the same size as these tiny people, or that he wasn’t flying high above people the same size as Melanie. A loud gurgle erupted from his stomach as he took a deep breath to focus himself back to the proper perspective, but the time it took to do so upset him notably.

“You ok?” Melanie’s breathy concern escaped her, her eyes still almost on her feet as she continued walking. His body relaxed almost instantly, a smile coming to his lips.

“A lot of sugar,” Henry responded, lying. He felt there was little point in making her even more upset by telling her of his inner battles. “I’m taking it better than Kendrick, though,” he added with a soft chuckle, nodding forward.

The giant woman’s eyes lifted, scanning the procession ahead of them until she found one of the carts loaded with the returning members’ bags, Kendrick sprawled out over them, sheltered from most other people’s views by the walls of the cart. Henry felt a giggle rumble under him as she saw the poor boy, presumably unconscious, clutching his stomach. “Amateur,” she breathed as quietly as possible, smirking, causing the small man on her shoulder to burst out with laughter.

Her eyes jumped up to look at the scenery finally as some heads whipped around at the sound of Henry’s laugh, and she took in a deep breath, her gait slowing briefly. “Oh.”

“Not a bad view, hey ma’am?” Jones called up to her. He had smoothly followed her pace change, the other two riders in her personal entourage taking a moment longer to realize she had lagged. She smiled down at him with a nod, fixing her pace again as color came to her cheeks.

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered down to him before looking back up to scan the countryside again. Hills and the ends of the tall forest blocked her view to the south, the smell of the ocean drifting to her on the gusts, and on the northern side of the road was a massive valley with smaller hills making static waves of green and browns, the ends of at least two massive, tilled fields stretching over the farthest hill she could see. 

Henry smiled as he felt her body shift beneath him, tension leaving-- or at least mostly leaving-- as she admired the scenery. He closed his eyes again, willing to suffer the adjustment afterwards if he could cling just a little longer to the thought of being on a hike with her once more.

Chapter Text

Melanie Barnes was exhausted.

She knew that this journey was going to take a lot out of her, but even so, she had let herself fall into the false sense of security of a gorgeous view and a faint sea-borne breeze that she might actually enjoy the walk. That’s not to say it had been completely unpleasant; there were moments she certainly liked. At the moment, however, as she stood just off-side of the cobbled road leading to the stone walls that encircled the vast Barracks area and imposing facility, she couldn’t bring herself to recall even one good thing that had ever happened to her.

Even the normally comforting sound of Henry’s voice was numbed by the issue she was now staring down, her heart in the absolute pit of her bowels. 

“Mind your face, please,” his voice was barely a whisper next to her ear, and she could tell he was saying them ventriloquist style to not alert anyone on the ground, or on the walls, that he was speaking to her. She took a deep, slow breath in through her nose, resisting the sigh that so very much wanted to explode from her body. 

Massive hazel eyes darted back again to the faces of the General, the Commander, and the Captain, standing alongside their horses on the opposite side of the road, closer to those imposing stone walls. In order, their expressions were stoically curious, politely concerned, and blatantly irritated. The giant eyes moved once again, back to the problem before them.

The wide, massive doors to the Barracks grounds were pulled open, almost invitingly. The cobbled road continued within the walls to a large open area, several smaller buildings such as store houses and a readying-stable for the horses of the Eastern Coastal Watch visible around its edges. Smaller roads, some paved, some not, branched out from any end of the cobbled square area, disappearing into the castle-town-like grounds beyond.

The doors, however, were only “massive” to the men and women around her.

The men and women who were, to her, not even eight inches tall.

She could tell simply by looking that the stone-and-mortared bridge that made the top of the wall walkable above the large doorway was not tall enough to duck under comfortably, and she had a number of reasons why she absolutely did not want to go over and try to measure herself against it. Most of that number being the nervous, openly-staring faces of the strangers who were standing guard outside the walls, stopped dead on their patrols or travels along the top of the walls, or just frozen in confusion, curiosity or fear on the inside of the walls.

The rest of the procession-- save for her three personal escorts, the ‘Trio In Charge’, and Henry-- had already gone inside, which had done a lot to encourage the gawkers in the opening area to clear out, though there were some stubborn stragglers. Nothing had been said, yet, but she knew it was coming. She knew. She had expected this at some point or another.

Someone was about to ask her to crawl.

Honestly, if she could bet on it, her money would be on Grant, whose impatience was growing to a point that she was sure she could hear it on the wind, like a buzzing insect getting closer to her ear. She wasn’t sure at this moment if it was a result of the proximity of the Barracks and that there’d be stricter adherence to decorum, or if it was the presence of the General that seemed to be making him hold his tongue. The General, actually, was the first to speak after the last of the procession had gone through and Melanie’s three escorts dismounted beside her.

“It’s a bit of a cramped first step,” the General called up to her sharply, her voice carrying very loud and very clear as Melanie blinked with surprise at the volume, “but it seems manageable for you, at the very least.”

Melanie’s eyes flickered against her wishes to the startled faces of the unfamiliar men who lined the entrance and walls, who seemed mortified at the idea that the General had decided to speak to her at all. She took another deep, long inhale through her nose as she forced herself to look at the mocking, taunting puzzle of the entryway instead of anyone else before her mouth opened to respond. “Logistically, it’s a concern,” her voice was soft, and she knew her raspy vocal-fry-sounding restraint was significantly quieter than the General’s sharp and loud call, and yet the physical jumps and starts by the people she had yet to know made it seem like she had suddenly fired a cannon out of her mouth. She chewed her lip a moment as she attempted to ignore them. “There are limited options for me.”

“You only need one option,” the Captain’s voice cracked sharply, the Commander muttering something under his breath just out of her hearing range toward him.

“I’d like for it to be the easiest one for everyone involved,” she replied as politely as she could, Henry whispering a quiet ‘mind yourself’ to her as she felt him move to stand on her shoulder, his feet finding the most appropriate straps and loops to slip into while he held the loop on her collar with the hand of his unbroken arm. Her hand stayed-- with some intense focusing-- by her side instead of helping him. She knew he was trying to make a better impression for them both among the members at the Barracks.

“Do you trust me?” He breathed as he stood and rolled his shoulders back. Melanie gave an extremely tiny dip of her head in affirmation. “Permission to approach?” He called loudly to the General et al below.

“Granted,” she called back, inclining her head respectfully with her eyes blazing at them. The Commander turned to give a sharp order to the standing guards, the four men quickly removing themselves from her path, two of them practically rushing down over the hill to get away. The giant woman couldn’t help but let a displeased noise escape her at the sight, her eyes desperately focusing on the empty space between the open doors and not the men still milling above the entranceway as she walked forward.

Several of the gawkers atop the wall dispersed on her approach, quickly deciding to either continue their patrols or simply go find better things to do. Two or three remained to watch, having stepped back or the side to where they felt they were safe, while Henry took a moment to appreciate this vantage point of the barracks grounds.

Coming up alongside the gray stones, they could both easily see over the top of them. Henry’s eyes immediately went to the five-storey white-and-red-brick barracks building itself, its clay-tiled roof in varying states of repair based on the scaffolding and support lines draped over it. Melanie’s eyes were more focused on the task at hand, looking at the flat walking-area that came to just below her collarbone, and was just slightly wider across than her fully extended arm. The walkway was extended in several places around the walls toward the innerside, trapdoors open on the overcast but dry day showing steps presumably descending to the ground on the other side, or to some rooms that may be housed within the walls themselves; she honestly didn’t know which.

The walkway was supported over the entryway by nearly ten full inches, to her, of the thick gray stones, bringing the full height of the passage she’d be going through to just slightly higher than her belly-button. She frowned slightly, taking a second to glance behind her to ensure no one was foolish enough to be in her foot space before stepping back and leaning slowly as Henry adjusted himself smoothly with the shift while she glanced down either sides of the wall, seeing that while the ground did come to different heights against it in places that she could see, not enough to make a difference and give her a potential vaulting point.

“That’s not an option,” Henry breathed into her ear as he pretended to be looking for something of interest as well, knowing what she was hoping to do. “Don’t, we’ll be ok.”

Her teeth clacked as she leaned back to the wall again, narrowing her eyes at the top of the wall and the long drop of bricks under it, hanging in her way. “Alright,” she said quietly, tipping her head from side to side as she turned her head just enough to look at the slightly blurry form of Henry. The small man nodded.

“We’re ready to move in, clear the other side,” Henry called down, the General and Commander looking surprised as they both started directing the soldiers nearby, Ais’lyn walking into the area with her horse ahead of them to make sure it was actually clear of idle hands and eyes. Captain Grant’s expression remained at his stoic level of annoyance at the proceedings before his eyebrows shot up at the giant woman’s sudden movement.

Melanie brought her hand to the front of her shoulder, Henry unstrapping himself and stepping on fluidly, making sure not to look at anyone or look doubtful of where he was going. Her hand moved alongside the top of the wall, Henry stepping off between two raised parts of the parapet. He didn’t turn back to look at her as he walked confidently-- with a slight limp still-- to the other side to wait, and the tense, uncomfortable woman wasted no time before squatting immediately to the ground, the guards that had been stationed there previously making noises of shock, surprise, possibly fear as they watched from whatever vantage points they had scampered to.

‘Crab-walking is better than crawling,’ she sighed loudly in her mind as she turned sideways and stuck a foot and leg through, bracing herself with her hands on the underside of the overhang, helping to push and pull herself through the entrance. Her coat tails dragged on the ground, kicking up small loose rocks and dead leaves along with her as she went before she felt her head and shoulder was clear on the other side.

Standing with hazel eyes toward the dull gray sky, she could only hope her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt while she adjusted her coat quickly- almost irritably- and moved her hand to rest on the top of the wall, Henry stepping on quickly and holding the tip of her thumb tightly as she moved him to her shoulder once again. Feeling him strap in, she immediately felt more relieved and allowed herself to look around from their new location.

“This way to the items that need your attention,” Ais’lyn called confidently, already making long and impressive strides, Private Jarvis and another of the Training Grounds’ returnees having made sure her horse had been moved to the nearby stables where unfamiliar steeds were currently making a lot of noise about the giant woman’s presence.

“The walls are a big help,” she breathed as quietly as possible as she took slow, relaxed steps behind the General, the Commander and Captain taking slightly longer at the stables as they maneuvered around wide paths in between the small buildings. Henry leaned and bumped her cheek with a shoulder in acknowledgement, breathing back quietly to her.

“Good, you deserve a better time for at least a moment.”

The travel to the barracks had been… bumpy. Every now and again the patrols on the roads would spot her, and after the first few times of her being ignored it seemed as though the closer they came, the more they would openly stop and stare. Twice, the Commander or General had to shout corrective orders at the men on their horseback patrols, which just made her feel guilty for being a spectacle enough to cause trouble. The horses from the barracks, as well, save for a few that had managed to rotate back from the Training Grounds after being desensitized to her, had trouble upon first seeing her, causing one rider-- unsure if a patrolman or just a random passerby who got missed by patrols-- to get thrown, Devon and Lionus riding off quickly to assess and offer first aid.

They had come across a stone bridge that, while certainly wide enough for her to travel across comfortably, Melanie-- and to a lesser degree, Henry-- had reservations crossing properly, and stepped off the road a short ways to hop the river instead. It had almost started another very public argument with Captain Grant, who disliked her concern about the weight limit of the bridge and was aggravated by her breaking marching orders, but the General made a comment about the cost of bridges and it seemed to settle the issue before it became a shouting match. 

Then there were the dogs.

She had forgotten about dogs.

Melanie loved dogs, and had spent the majority of her lifetime working with them. Those were larger dogs though, and were typically used to seeing someone her size. The ones here were significantly smaller and evidently less pleased with her presence. As they had come along the road just down the hill from the back of a sheep pasture, the sheep had scattered back over the crest and the dogs set to guard them came running, barking and howling toward them, even jumping the fence to come share their disapproval of her.

It had gone on for a number of minutes, the giant woman becoming increasingly and visibly more uncomfortable as she pretended to ignore them, before the farmer and his wife arrived in a cart pulled by two large draft horses to try and recollect the dogs. It had seemed to go quite well, the dogs behaving much better with their owners there, until farmer Keely shouted something as they were coming to the top of a hill on the main road. Melanie’s head had turned instinctively at the sound of someone yelling ‘hello’, and she came to such an abrupt halt that Miller accidentally cantered his horse directly between her legs.

Henry flinched at the recollection as they continued through the barracks grounds. He had tried to turn her attention away, but even he had gotten caught up in a moment that it might be a good experience; a positive memory for her to make. Farmer Keely and her had stared at each other briefly before he took his hat off, waving it happily over his head in the distance. Melanie had smiled, and instinctively her hand came up in front of her to wave back, her movements less dramatic, just swinging her forearm side to side in front of her stomach and chest. Farmer Keely seemed delighted, and Henry honestly still believed that he even laughed happily, but the terrified shriek of his wife set the mood quite firmly.

The General had sharply called for attention, spurring Melanie back to movement after she visibly flinched and turned to face forward once again. Her eyes didn’t leave the ground in front of her much at all for the remainder of the trip. Now, among the still-bustling Barracks grounds, surrounded by the thick walls that hid her from the view of outsiders, she was still uncomfortable but much less stung.

“Oh.”

The noise escaped her in surprise, her gait changing beneath them both as Henry tugged slightly harder on the strap sewn into the collar of her coat. “Careful,” he said, shifting his weight, his hip popping uncomfortably; much to his annoyance, the doctors were right about him needing to sit for most of their travels today.

“Sorry,” she whispered back, her eyes on the pile of comically large items at the back of the grounds, sequestered behind a trio of short buildings-- likely storage sheds of some variety-- and temporary, scaffold-like fencing, “but it’s my boogie-board.”

Henry blinked and turned his attention to the pile himself, standing up straighter as the bright blue board caught his attention from behind the jumble of everything else, sticking up just enough to catch attention from this high angle. “Really?” He asked dubiously. “That’s what got your attention?”

She continued to follow behind the General, pausing in front of the short buildings while Ais’lyn walked between them, waiting until she was clear enough to step over them. “It’ll help me get to Swift when they let us,” she muttered quietly as color came to her cheeks, a babble of commentary about her stepping over the shed erupting around them, “I assume they’re not going to try and get me in a rowboat.”

“Unfortunately a rowboat would be out of the question for now, yes,” Ais’lyn’s voice called up boldly, Melanie’s face going even redder as her eyes dashed immediately to lock with the flaming green sparkles far below her. Beneath the dramatic hat, the General was grinning almost playfully, putting her a bit more at ease after realizing she really wasn’t having anything close to a private conversation. “We’ve cleared the space behind these buildings, all the way back to the wall, specifically to give you some room to sort and catalogue these items,” Ais’lyn directed her as the giant woman came to kneel beside her. The red-headed woman’s voice dropped significantly as she removed her hat in a swift motion, the tiny woman glancing between the buildings to make sure the Captain and Commander hadn’t fully caught up with them yet. “Also to give you some privacy from the shameless gawking. Really, I need to crack the whip on them all more.”

An extremely relieved, quiet chuckle came out of Melanie’s massive body as she moved her hand up to help Henry down to the ground. “Please don’t,” she begged on a breath, “I feel bad enough to be causing this much trouble.”

“They’ll come around in time,” Henry said, attempting to placate both Melanie’s anxieties and the General’s desire to enforce discipline as he turned back up to her with a sympathetic smile. The large woman flashed a small but appreciative smile back before turning her eyes back to Ais’lyn.

“I suppose I can give them some consideration for the circumstances, but to be quite frank, they were all warned,” the fiery woman conceded, sounding slightly irritable before turning her attention to the pile with a sweeping gesture of her arm, her posture extremely straight as she did so. “You may begin to arrange things as you find necessary. The Commander and Captain will obviously have questions for the items, and Theresa at the very least will need to take a full account for the records. I’m unsure if Thorne will be joining us or not, when I mentioned my plan to try and bring you here this afternoon he suddenly seemed very concerned that he didn’t go home last night.”

Henry’s eyebrows raised as he looked at the General, walking toward the pile as Melanie stood again to move closer to it and begin assessing as she wandered around it with ease. “Oh? The Staff Sergeant had seemed legitimately eager to meet her officially when last we had spoken.”

“Yes, he is one to give many impressions at once, that man,” Ais’lyn sighed, her eyes focused fiercely on Melanie’s gaze, on her expression, as the giant woman circled the pile. Henry was attempting to gauge the General’s intentions when the sound of a bold voice called all of their attention swiftly to the wall behind.

“You alright, Ma’am?” Miller’s just-slightly out-of-breath voice rang out, Henry watching the towering woman’s face light up as she turned to see him, her eyes immediately dancing along the wall to try and determine where he had come from so fast.

“I’m good, thank you, Miller,” she replied with a smile, taking a few steps over toward him along the wall. The height of it in comparison to the bare ground beneath her brought the small man’s height much closer to her eye level, which they were both delighted by. “You’re still good to give me a tour of everything later?”

“Yes ma’am, if you aren’t too busy!” He laughed back, moving to lean on one of the parapets and gazing down at the pile. “Do you think we salvaged anything useful for you?”

She turned back to lean against the wall lightly, staring down at the collection with a thoughtful nod. “I see a couple of things immediately that will come in handy, absolutely.”

“If you need help moving any of it, you know where to find me,” his bold voice stated proudly, and she turned to him with an approving smirk and a nod. “Good luck with it, ma’am!”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, winking, before walking back and starting to grab things for sorting. Her hand immediately gravitated to the torso-length blue foam board she had spotted instantly; the boogie board she used for longer-distance swimming. She moved to lean it against the wall behind her before digging in for the next several items, shuffling things carefully to avoid causing any kind of an avalanche of the precariously stacked things.

It was a task she could devote her focus to entirely with Henry there to field questions and keep the others engaged in conversation as she went, Theresa having arrived to begin transcribing and sketching the items in a large book, and the Commander and Captain joining the group shortly afterwards. Every once in a while she pulled out and identified something particularly exciting, and allowed her eyes to jump up long enough to share a delighted look with Henry, but otherwise her attention was wholly consumed.

Her tent had washed up, and even the small bag of pegs had managed to stay inside the “waterproof” drawstring sack that contained the whole setup. Obviously, the difference between getting caught in the rain and shipwrecking at sea was likely covered in the particulars of the warranty under the ‘waterproof’ clause as ‘non-viable for return’, but if she could get it out and set it up to let it dry, she should be able to keep it from molding or rotting away from the dampness. Two of her plastic bowls, a cup, and a large plate had washed up, which she had flaunted toward Henry who simply rolled his eyes-- she had been insistent that paying the extra few dollars for “overboard-proof sailing dishes” was worth it simply for the novelty, and now she at least had some amount of proof that they weren’t a complete waste.

Melanie sorted a number of cans, their labels having soaked off, over along the wall after shaking them and trying to guess what was inside. Some of them were emergency water rations, some of them were soups and stews, some were random canned meats, fruits and vegetables. She had brought about a dozen cardboard flats of them on their trip, but the majority had been stored in one of the outer storage bins. She assumed these ones were from the collection she had taken out specifically to be near their small ‘kitchen counter’ area for meals on their excursion.

Next up, poking out from under some chunks of the boat itself, was her backpack. The bright blue and black fabric standing out and grabbing her attention. The weather-resistant material was, similar to the tent bag, evidently not shipwreck proof, and it and its contents were still very much wet and soggy. A bottle of sunscreen, a musty-smelling towel and her simple black bathing suit wrapped inside it, and a tightly-wrapped compact umbrella also smelly like old seawater. One of her notebooks was practically mulch, just used to jot notes of things to do and remember with the boat, but at least her two pens were likely still ok. Several steel carabiners and a large metal water bottle were no worse for wear, but Henry’s spare hammock and several of his spare clothes and blankets were soaked and musty as well. They were likely savable, but given the number of days it had been, she didn’t want to hold out too much hope.

A hairbrush, another bottle of shampoo, one of the life-rings from the boat, a chunk of the boat’s wharf-bumper, two water-logged seat cushions, her lifejacket, various pieces of more… conspicuous debris from the vessel itself, one of her spare boating sandals, the spare reel for her fishing rod, and finally: the black Otterbox case with her cellphone encased inside like a pristine rubber-and-glass sarcophagus. In her periphery she saw Henry visibly flinch as she picked it up, his anxiety about it similar to hers, evidently.

They had discussed this at length before embarking on their journey; No one here could find out what this was.

Melanie stood to her full height, turning to face the wall and pretend she was walking there to place it down, and ensure that no one could possibly be at the height needed to see what might happen if she managed to turn on the screen. Her finger tapped the power button, granting her the relief of not seeing anything appear. She held down the button as she held it in front of her, pretending to be looking at where she was stepping. Several seconds passed with nothing, making her heart sink just slightly that even the “undefeatable” case she had bought on so many recommendations couldn’t withstand a shipwreck, when suddenly the image of an empty battery flashed on screen.

If she hadn’t been surrounded by people she would’ve jumped in celebration. The odds of it working here for phone calls had to be impossible, but knowing she still had something like this, from home, with the ability to maybe even use it for something that could comfort her… it was almost enough to make her cry at the idea. She stooped, placing it face down among the other spread out items, and turned back to look for anything she may have missed among the things she discarded as just boat-related debris, flexing her fingers oddly as she went, hoping Henry was watching as she pointedly avoided looking at him.

The sailor was currently involved in a deep discussion with the General and Commander about the items that had been laid out, doing his best to describe the ones he knew for them to save them some time. His eyes had flicked rapidly, his head turning to watch her in short bursts as she had walked off with her phone as he continued to talk smoothly, Ais’lyn flashing an amused yet impressed look as she watched him.

Her hands twitched and writhed, and then he saw what he was looking for. Her left hand crossed its fingers quickly while her right hand made a fist with a subtle thumbs-up before the hands shook themselves out and flexed again, like she was just stretching out arthritic aches. The crossed fingers meant, roughly, ‘no’ depending on its context. The thumbs-up in that specific position meant ‘battery’. The battery in the phone was dead. They had nothing to worry about.

Henry turned his attention fully back to the General, only realizing too late that his relief was obvious-- at least to one person-- when Daniel’s face caught his attention from the corner of his eye. The Captain was glaring at him, pointedly, and he could see the man’s ears starting to go red as he maintained an at ease pose but darted his eyes between Henry and Melanie’s dancing hands, obviously putting together that he missed something.

“Was that the last of it, then?” Ais’lyn called loudly up to the giant woman, Melanie’s eyes moving to her quickly as her short-but-massive strides around the remaining flotsam came to a halt. The giant woman nodded, dropping to her good knee to be closer to level with the crowd that had grown in their little area.

Wells and Francine had joined the cluster of people, along with Peters and Dawson who were watching from the farther ends of the storage sheds, taking a smoke break as they milled about. Jones and Penelope had eventually caught up with Miller, taking almost guard-like positions on top of the wall and chatting casually with each other as they watched. The Commander and General, as well her assistant Theresa, seemed unperturbed by the growing number of idle hands, but Grant seemed absolutely antsy about it.

“The rest of the pile just seems to be broken debris from the ship that we’d have no use for,” Henry said on her behalf, walking past the pile slightly to survey it as he came up alongside her leg, Melanie nodding in agreement from above. “We can take Ms. Jarvis and anyone else who needs to put it all to official record through the items, if necessary.”

“Yes, please,” Ais’lyn said, waving for Theresa to take her book over and follow Henry around. Melanie was standing to wander with them when she noticed the shocked look on Commander Martellis’ face and followed his gaze to the determined march of Captain Grant, who was almost storming past her to catch up with the other two. The pit in the giant woman’s stomach returned again.

‘Just as I was getting comfortable here…’ her brain groaned as she sighed, waiting for him to pass before coming to her full height again.

Henry had quickly noticed Daniel’s desire to join in their little tour, and was growing openly more annoyed as the sailor tried to encourage Melanie to follow but had to instead watch her hesitate as the Captain shot her exceedingly aggravated looks every time she stepped closer behind him. The following half-hour did not feature any real improvement as Grant’s voice constantly demanded between the two of them to explain or describe what everything was, why it looked the way it did, or how it functioned. Melanie’s almost refusal to speak as the Captain’s sharp voice attracted more, unfamiliar rubber-necks to their area just seemed to push him harder, and when she took her notebook out of her pocket to start jotting notes of what they had collected for herself, it damn near pushed him over the edge.

“Where did that come from?” He had shouted sharply at her as she scribbled about the damage to the backpack’s contents. 

Hazel eyes blinked and turned to him as she whispered, trying not to focus on the increase in distant babble of other soldiers as her voice still traveled much farther than she intended. “My trunk, back at the Training Grounds.”

“Were you given clearance to bring it here?”

The massive, hazel orbs stared into the piercing ice-blue dots of the Captain as she adjusted her position, kneeling to try and make their conversation a bit less of a matter for public observation. She noticed his expression contort and writhe as she lowered, but he never tried to step back or away. “I didn’t ask, no,” she admitted awkwardly, already feeling the tightness growing in her chest as she continued. “It was in the things I was allowed to keep from the wreck initially, I brought it along so I could keep my own records and--”

“You aren’t free to transport anything between the Training Grounds and here without declaring it first, and you’ll be told what you can and can’t have in your pockets or on your person,” he stated sharply, her ears being closer to him not factoring into his decision on volume, evidently.

She sighed, her eyes drifting briefly to Martellis in the background who had a vaguely sympathetic expression, and then to Henry, who was desperately trying to direct Theresa’s attention away from the two of them so he could distract himself with more explanation. “I wasn’t aware, I’ll clarify the rules with the Commander later and--”

“What do you have in your pockets now?” Grant snapped sharply again, making one of her eyes visibly twitch as Henry stopped mid-sentence to wheel on the man.

“Daniel,” the sailor’s voice drifted to them warningly before Melanie cut him off with a sharp series of movements.

The journal snapped closed a bit more aggressively than she likely would’ve wanted it to had she not been brought to her rope’s end of patience multiple times already today, and she placed it firmly on the ground. Her newly-freed hand went to pull open one of her other outer-pockets with its fingers, the other hand dropping to the ground between herself and Grant. The voice that escaped her was dangerously devoid of emotion.

“I submit to whatever inspection you need to make, sir,” she said, her voice a little louder, more clear, and her eyes giving him just a brief moment of respite before moving to lock pointedly with his own ice-blue stare again. 

Behind Grant, Martellis had gone as stiff as a board and white as a sheet, the General standing beside him also notably more tense at the interaction. The silence in the area suddenly was like a thick cloud, and the Giant and the Captain simply stared at each other while she waited for him to crack.

Melanie darted her eyes from him to her open palm and back quickly, the neutral expression still on her face, her lips refusing to open again.

That was enough.

“We don’t have time for that right now,” he said, deflecting as he wheeled himself quickly back toward Henry, his stride determined. His blue eyes fell on a solemn, almost nervous face as he saw the sailor staring up behind him, into the face of the woman he had just walked away from.

“Will you be confiscating this, then, or am I free to continue writing, sir?” She asked in a lower voice again, her hand moving to pick up the journal. To Henry’s relief, she didn’t push it the extra distance by offering the giant thing to Daniel directly.

“You’re free to continue,” he snapped, not turning back around. He was stung, and livid about it.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain,” she replied quietly, her proper manners just grating on him further. He felt the rush of air as she stood quickly again, the babbling peanut gallery around them picking back up at the sudden, massive movement as the tails of her coat moved and swayed behind her. Henry let out a long sigh, trying to ignore the curious stare of Theresa next to him as he turned to try and get everyone’s attention back on him for the rest of their tour through Melanie’s personal effects.

Melanie, however, was back on edge again, and no amount of scribbling in her book was going to put that to rest. Theresa was fine to ask some general questions, but Grant’s intense focus on the purpose of everything just had her hackles up. What was he driving at? That she was somehow going to weaponize a bowl? Or a plate? That she should weaponize those things?

Her eyes moved to the gray sky overhead as she tried to hide the growing look of discomfort and displeasure on her face while the aggressive interrogation continued below. They had been as careful as they could allow themselves to be when it came to dragging technology and things back to Henry’s lands. Melanie, thanks to her and Laura’s constant fixations on hypotheticals like this, had always been paranoid about accidentally bringing something dangerous to some other place, or some other time. Now she was standing here, looming over a man under 8-inches tall, who seemed to be utterly determined to get every bit of useful, tactical information out of them as possible regarding how pens work.

The call for lunch sounded so suddenly that almost all of the people in their area jumped as if they had never heard it before. “We’re on it already, ma’am,” Miller’s booming voice called from the wall, getting the towering woman’s attention as she turned and looked at him, their faces lighting up again at being roughly the same height. “Fuller took Bartlett and Hicks to the kitchens with him when we arrived, they’ll bring it down when it’s all ready! Just might be later call.”

“Thank you,” she mouthed to him, placing a fist over her heart as she spread an extremely relieved smile. Maybe food would help her tolerance and patience come back. If nothing else, the idea that the Captain would ideally leave and go eat somewhere far away from her for a moment was a relief unto itself.

“Melanie!” Ais’lyn’s voice called sharply to her, causing her to turn carefully on the spot and drop to a knee as the General approached her. “Myself and the Commander will be taking Captain Grant back to the dining hall, Wells and Wright will remain here with yourself, Henry, and--”

“What is it used for is what I’m asking you,” Grant’s voice was so sharp and irritated that the General, in a very rare moment, lost her entire train of thought to look toward him. Melanie turned, her body tensing as she saw him standing with Henry and Theresa in front of her phone.

“Navigational tool,” she replied quickly, bluntly, the Captain whipping around to look at her.

“How is it used?” He demanded, not missing a beat.

“Similar to a compass when it’s back in its right place on the boat,” she stated, her eyes not moving to Henry. “Outside of what it’s a component of, it’s useless.”

“Why is it engraved with ‘Otter-box’?” The Captain emphasized loudly, gesturing pointedly with an arm to the clearly-made letters. Melanie’s head turned curiously, her brain rapidly churning out something.

“That’s what it’s called,” she stated, standing up and taking large, casual steps toward him in hopes maybe it would be enough to chase him away from this annoying line of questioning. “Otters are good at navigating the ocean, we named the tool after them.”

“How does it work,” he stressed, sharply, again. Melanie stared down at him a moment before shrugging.

“I have no idea. On the ship it just helps us tell the heading direction. Same as a compass,” she said, the small man positively glaring up at her. She could tell he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, so she dove for her last-ditch attempt to get the conversation to end; she was going to play stupid. “How do compasses work?”

Grant’s mouth hung open, having opened to shoot back with a demand of some kind that had just been whisked away from his mind entirely at the sound of her overly-earnest question. “What do you mean how do they work?” He called back incredulously. “They point north.”

“Yes but how do they point north?” She asked, squatting low to be closer to him, noting his body language shift uncomfortably as she did.

“I-- magnets,” he stammered, his brow furrowed, his mouth opening again to sharply try to redirect the conversation, his hand pointing again to the phone. “But that’s obviously not--”

“How does a magnet know which way is North?” Melanie asked, her own brow furrowing.

“It’s-- no,” Grant snapped, stepping toward her irritably. “The compass isn’t a magnet, the directions are, so the needle will point--”

“How does a needle know where to point?” She asked, her turn to seem offended in her confusion.

“It’s magnetic,” the Captain sighed. “Which I can almost guarantee you, this is not, so--”

“So if you take the needle out of the compass and throw it on the ground,” Melanie began, slowly, feigning thoughtfulness, “does it still point North?”

“No, when it’s in the compass it--”

“So, it’s similar to this,” she said, reaching past him-- admittedly rudely-- and grabbing the phone, showing it to him again. “Outside of where it’s supposed to be, on the ship, it's just this. Useless.”

Grant had taken a very fast step back as her arm had moved, and still looked ruffled by it despite his attempts to maintain his same level of determined aggravation. His mouth opened to speak again but closed shut as the giant hazel eyes moved to his again with a curious expression.

“Nevermind,” he muttered in a hissing sigh. “This is unimportant and a waste of time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Captain,” she said, waxing apologetic as well as she could while her eyes desperately tried not to roll, her hand placing the phone back in its space near the wall. “Had I known these questions would be as dire, I would’ve tried to speak with a scientist first to get a better idea of how to explain things. I’m a bit of a layman, myself.”

Captain Daniel Grant stood as waves of irritation seemed to cascade forth from his body, and she waited for some other sharp remark to come out of him. Thankfully, the voice of the General grabbed the man’s attention first.

“Captain, we’re heading to the lunch call if you were hoping to join us,” the woman’s bold voice rang through the area. Grant let his gaze linger on the giant woman a moment longer, until her eyes moved back to his, and then turned on his heel to leave without another word. “Melanie, you can have a seat against the wall here if nothing else requires your immediate attention.”

“Yes ma’am,” the giant woman replied with a warm smile as she stood and turned to face them, her expression beginning to look as tired as she felt. “Thank you, enjoy your lunch, you as well please, Commander,”

“Thank you, Melanie,” Martellis replied, smiling warmly a moment before the impending, aggravated form of Captain Grant caught his attention with his stomping march again.

“Thank you, dear,” Ais’lyn replied, adjusting her hat neatly atop her head before turning to leave with the men and several of the other gawkers that had hung around to watch the exchange. Melanie let out a long sigh, walking toward Henry again as he finished saying goodbye to Theresa, having answered a few extra questions she had had. The small sailor shot her a half-amused smirk as she moved toward the wall and sat in front of it, moving to lean her back against the rough, cool stones.

“So, we have some useful items,” he stated as he walked toward her, gesturing with his good arm for a lift to her knee and Melanie obliging smoothly with her hand. He grunted, adjusting himself to sit and face her as she scribbled in her book below him. 

“Permissions still required,” she mumbled quietly under her breath. “Doesn’t seem like great odds.”

“Shhh,” Henry hushed her quietly, his eyes darting around as he glanced over his shoulder. There was still a lot of mostly unfamiliar foot-traffic passing by and shooting glances between the buildings, and he knew that Miller and Jones were likely listening from their space up on the wall with Penelope. “That’s my job to handle that, don’t worry so much.”

The short-haired woman sighed, her eyes moving up to him from under her brow with a tired and doleful expression. He used his good hand to rub the top of her knee comfortingly, before her twitching reminded him both of her ticklishness, and his precarious position with an already-broken arm. “Thank you,” she offered softly all the same, going back to her scribbling. A comfortable quiet passed between them as Henry gently adjusted his balance with slight sways of her body, breaking only when she spoke again. “I guess I never really thought of how many people would be at the barracks.”

“The Watch is a full force,” he offered thoughtfully, trying to lean forward enough to see what she was writing but giving up as his hip protested. “Well, it used to be. They’re being much politer about all of this than I was expecting, at least. Tomorrow should go much smoother.”

“I forgot we were coming back tomorrow,” Melanie whispered, frowning. “I… I’m worried I left footprints in the road. I thought I felt some of the stones shifting after we got past the bridge.”

The small sailor shot her a skeptical look with one eyebrow raised, staring at her until her eyes darted up to him to check if he was listening. He laughed as her whole face turned red at his expression. “I was worried that you were hoping for an excuse to get more work with Dawson and the team,” Henry laughed as she brought the pencil up to tap his side lightly. “Watch it-- my balance is bad.”

“I like Dawson,” she breathed, “and the work is useful. Makes me feel good.”

“I know,” Henry replied soothingly. “It’s been noted, apparently. I feel like it won’t be hard to encourage the high-hats to give you at least permission to help with the construction efforts around base if need be.”

“I hope so,” she sighed, turning a page and starting new scribbles. The foot traffic continued to stagger past in front of the buildings they were hiding behind, the occasional mutter or comment making its way back to her, driving her to focus more on her writing while Henry just got slowly more annoyed by it. “Did you notice…”

He looked up with raised eyebrows as she trailed off, her voice barely more than a breath. “Hm?”

“...None of your things are here,” she finished quietly, almost suspiciously. “Your trunks, mostly.”

“I had noticed, my assumption is that they’re still with the boat, or perhaps because they were smaller, they weren’t as buoyant.” The sailor shrugged, his eyes watching her face closely as she didn’t look away from her journal.

“They were in the same place as the dishes,” she whispered. Those giant hazel orbs jumped up to him, locking intensely as the look of unmistakable worry crossed her features. “I think they washed up. I think they’re here.”

Henry fidgeted, leaning forward from her knee with a half-skeptical expression. Her eyebrows raised as he opened his mouth, cutting off the dismissal he had originally planned to make. He sighed, turning his head away from her as he conceded. “...I’ll ask.”

“Be assertive about it,” she whispered gently, “it’s one thing to treat me like this, if they’re going to pull it on you--”

“There’s nothing sensitive in there,” he quipped quietly.

She simply nodded, her eyes back on her scribbling again. “I don’t like the idea, either way.”

A long silence drifted between them, the bustling sounds of the barracks bouncing off of the big brick walls as the two lost themselves in their thoughts for a moment. “Thank you,” his voice cracked through the quiet after some time had passed, “for keeping an eye out for me.”

Neither of her eyes moved to look at him as a small smile graced her lips, her hand moving to nudge him gently with a finger against his leg.

“Somebody has to.”

Chapter Text

“It’s literate, then?” The words drifted to them both from further away than they were used to, the voice not even trying to keep itself quiet. Henry glanced up to her with a concerned look from his seat near her foot as they waited for the small items she had spread out to dry. 

“She is literate, yes,” Captain Grant’s sharp voice reached them again, evidently short on patience. Melanie craned her neck to try and locate where the voices were coming from, until she heard the familiar voice of Miller atop the wall behind her.

“Good afternoon Commander, Captain!”

“Good day Lieutenant Miller,” the Commander’s voice returned politely. “The Staff Sergeant invited the Baron, Lord Hargreaves to oversee the barracks today.”

“Pleasure to receive you, Baron, sir! Should you have need of anything, I’ll be here!”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” the gruff, yet strangely elegant, voice of the Baron returned, the voices getting closer and closer to the area above them.

Melanie and Henry both stared at each other with concerned expressions. They weren’t told to expect guests today. This was not anything the giant woman was remotely ready to handle.

‘Do I stand up?’ She mouthed at the tiny sailor, her eyes darting to Wells and Francine as they stood back by the storage sheds, having taken up positions there to deter gawkers. All three shook their heads at her, Henry mouthing back the word ‘wait’.

Francine waved subtly to her, the small woman’s hand by her hip, getting Melanie’s attention as she pointed with a finger and moved it slowly, indicating exactly where the guests were. It did wonders to put the giant woman at as much ease as she could reasonably be expected to feel, and it lightened the mood significantly in their little corner. The conversation continued above them and to Melanie’s left, further down the curve of the wall.

“It’s not nearly as horrifying as Thorne implied,” the Baron’s voice sounded almost annoyed in its blatant disappointment. “I was expecting something much more monstrous.”

“She,” Grant’s voice corrected sharply again, Henry’s eyebrows raising slightly in surprise at the seeming attitude shift, “is, for all intents and purposes, human in biology from all we’ve ascertained thus far.”

“Yes, yes,” the Baron’s impatience audibly growing as Melanie’s discomfort visibly grew far below. “She, then. Well she certainly seems nowhere near the fifty-feet the Sergeant was going on about.”

“I assure you,” the Commander said in his measured, polite tone, sounding every ounce the Officer and professional he was, “she is actually a height of forty-five. She’s currently sitting.”

“Well I see that,” the Baron huffed with a mocking laugh. “And the General says you’ve assigned a handler of sorts to it?”

“Her handler--” Grant’s voice pushed back before the Baron’s voice cracked from above them again.

“Yes, yes, her!” He snapped impatiently, his voice dripping with indignation. “Where is her handler, then?”

Melanie’s eyes closed as she let her head relax back against the wall with a long, quiet sigh. ‘Thank god,’ she thought. ‘Henry can handle whoever this asshole is.’ Her eyes opened again, expecting to see the small man uncomfortable and dreading the impending call to be personable with some kind of a bureaucrat, but instead finding him visibly relieved-- maybe even more relieved than her.

‘I’ve got you,’ he mouthed to her with a relieved smile, his hand coming to rest on the top of her boot, patting it in a way that looked comforting. She smiled back, her eyes dropping to her lap as she tried to fight the color coming to her face. ‘Thanks’, she mouthed back as her mind rejoiced at the idea that things weren’t so different after all, almost to the point that it drowned out the pain in her heart being caused by that very same notion.

“Lemuels,” Captain Grant’s voice called from the top of the wall after a bit more chatter. “Lord Hargreaves requests your attendance.”

“On the way, Captain,” Henry shouted back, a frown vaguely flashing on his lips at the sound of the name. Melanie reached into one of her breast pockets as the small man stood, adjusting his cerulean-blue coat and the collar of his shirt, and carefully withdrew the Lieutenant’s tricorner for his ensemble. “...Melanie,” his voice uttered, almost darkly, as he looked up to see her offering it toward him.

‘High-hat,’ she mouthed, looking nervous. Henry sighed, nodding as he took it off her finger but refused to put it on, pinning it under his slung arm instead. Trying to slap it onto his head one handed likely wouldn’t have made any better of an impression. She placed her hand on the ground for him as she adjusted her feet to be directly beneath her, glancing to Francine to confirm they were still a ways up the wall from them to avoid having to directly stare at someone who was bound to be less than relaxed about the sight of her. 

Grant maintained probably the most neutral, calm expression Henry had ever seen the man make as Melanie stood, the sailor’s hand gripping her thumb with the familiar motion as he was lifted to the top of the wall again, stepping off over the parapet as Miller and Penelope approached to see if he needed anything. Melanie’s eyes didn’t leave the cluster of familiar faces in front of her as Henry smiled and dismissed her Lieutenants and Guard, turning to approach the Commander, Captain and Baron in as fluid a motion as his hip and leg would allow.

“Alright there, ma’am?” Penelope’s voice was quiet, and more curious than concerned, a smile on her face that was soothing. Melanie nodded with a faint smile as she took a step back away from the wall and adjusted her stance back into an at-ease posture as she waited to be addressed, keeping the men in her periphery.

“An honor to be met by you, Lord Hargreaves,” Henry addressed the man with a deep bow, before snapping back to proper posture. His blue-green eyes moved to the pale green of the Baron’s, which were transfixed to his expectation on the giant woman somewhere behind his right shoulder.

“Y-yes,” the Baron uttered almost under his breath, a slight sheen of sweat along his temples-- whether from the sight or the walk along the wall, Henry wouldn’t try to guess. “Pleasure, Samuels.”

“Henry Lemuels, at your service, my Lord,” the long-haired man replied casually, trying to ignore the sudden look of restraint on Daniel’s face as the Captain evidently caught himself mid-snort.

“Lemuels, yes,” the Baron droned distantly. Henry allowed his eyes to wander idly as he waited. After being the one who had been stared at and fixated on for the last nearly-two-years, it was almost refreshing to be on the other side of this flavour of interaction for a change.

The Baron was a short man, stumpy in a way that made Henry recall the image of the round-bellied ponies his neighbours had bred when he was a young child. A thick, lengthy beard that was undoubtedly hiding a lack of a prominent chin went down past his collarbone, complimenting a very thick and well-oiled crop of hair. His jutting chest gave way almost immediately to a protrusive stomach of a well-fed Elite, and his arms were notably thin and under-built in a staunch comparison, evidently not one for working. Henry was familiar with the type.

To the sailor’s surprise, the Baron was not in any attire he would’ve deemed ‘official’ in nature. The clothes were evidently for riding, and to his credit the man’s boots were worn and stained as such; clearly not a complete layabout. He bore the signatory pin of a Parliamentarian, but not the neck adornments nor the collar pins of a Baron, which would be custom had he been given the opportunity to prepare for some kind of visit to a military facility of any kind.

It was then that Henry noticed that the Staff Sergeant, who allegedly invited the man, was not present. He turned his blue-green eyes to the calm brown eyes of Peter Martellis, tilting his head slightly. “Is Sergeant Thorne--?”

 “The Staff Sergeant,” the Commander interjected with a vague look of panic that disappeared swiftly, “is currently in a briefing with Lieutenant General Ais’lyn.”

Henry blinked, his eyebrows raised. Martellis gave a quick incline of his head with a grimace, indicating that the sailor’s instincts were correct; the Staff Sergeant was getting chewed out for bringing the Baron here. Collecting himself again swiftly, Henry moved his attention back to their guest, and attempted to prompt him a bit more hastily out of his staring.

“Well, as her liaison, I can field a number of questions you may have while the Staff Sergeant isn’t able to join us for the time being, my Lord.”

“Hmmm, yes,” the Baron muttered, still lost in whatever thoughts were slowly, slowly, slowly, turning around his mind. Grant let out a loud, sudden cough from alongside, causing even the Commander to jump as the Baron seemed to recall where he was and what he was, apparently, supposed to be doing. “Ah, Samuels, yes--”

“Henry Lemuels,” Henry corrected him again as Daniel turned a smug smirk toward the outside of the wall. “Henry would be fine, should you prefer.”

“Lemuels, my apologies-- a Navy man, fine stock, was Navy myself in my youth before I was called to politics,” the Baron announced, proudly, and Henry worried that he may legitimately sprout spikes if he bristled any further at the implication his outfit was in anyway a conscious choice by him. “Humphrey informed me you’ve actually spent time with it, then?”

“With what, sir?” Henry asked proddingly before Daniel could cut back in as he seemed desperate to do.

“Ah, her, sorry,” the Baron huffed, less openly irritated by the correction as his eyes dashed back over the sailor’s right shoulder to the idly standing giant.

“I have, yes,” he offered in reply.

“Taught i-- her-- to speak?” the stout man stuttered.

“Not much of one to call myself a teacher if I’m to be honest, Baron, but communication is not a struggle,” Henry deflected, his eyes dropping awkwardly to his feet and away over the wall a moment before moving back to the still-staring eyes of Hargreaves.

“Ah, excellent then,” the Baron said, immediately taking a few steps further forward up the wall, puffing his chest. Henry turned fluidly to follow with the Captain and Commander in tow, gesturing politely with an open hand toward the Baron.

“Is there anything you’d like to ask ab--”

The words had barely time to slip from the sailor’s lips before disaster struck, loudly.

“HELLO, GIANT.”

The bellowing yell would have been fit to startle every person and animal within a clear mile of the barracks, not a single member of the Watch and Guard in attendance resisting the sudden urge to jump at the sound. Melanie’s head snapped with wide, nearly terrified eyes to the Baron herself, and Henry watched the tell-tale shake and dip of her pupils as she gave the man a clear and detailed look-over.

“Ah, it heard me, good, I was worried without a speaking trumpet…” the Baron muttered, smiling proudly to himself. He started a large, almost sucking intake of breath again as Henry tried to shake himself out of his shock.

“That’s not necess--” the sailor tried to interject, but the next bellowing yell drowned out any sound he was attempting to make.

“YOU.” The Baron shouted, pointing with both hands. Melanie, still in blatant shock and confusion, brought a hand up to point at her chest, Henry going sickly pale at this absurd turn of events. “YES!” Hargreaves yelled in joyous surprise. “YOU. SPEAK?”

“Baron--” Commander Martellis tried to interject, Henry whipping around to see the mortified expression on Peter’s face and the shocked, almost offended look across Daniel’s.

“We have to stop him,” Daniel muttered from alongside the Commander, reaching up with a hand to adjust his hat and his Captain-rank pins.

“My Lord,” Henry said, turning and stepping back to try and keep all three men in his vision as he desperately attempted to get his hands on some kind of reins here. “She can--”

“Yes,” Melanie replied quietly, clearly, nodding her head to the Baron. “You,” she said, pointing to the Baron, her face still marred with confusion, “speak?”

The Baron’s face was utterly beaming with pride, clearly oblivious to both Melanie’s continuing confusion and the collective, existential horror that had brought the three men behind him to an unnatural stillness.

“YES!” The Baron yelled back, just further determined to continue this. “YOU. LIKE HERE? LIKE. BARRACKS?”

Henry’s stomach dropped so fast he was sure it landed on his shoes. This was a disaster. His job was to protect her from uncomfortable, upsetting situations like this, and in two simple words he had completely failed. This, in his mind, could not possibly get any worse.

Outside of his mind, however, Melanie’s expression slowly faded from one of confusion and concern to one of amusement.

The small sailor’s mouth went dry. It absolutely, most assuredly, did get worse.

“Yes,” she replied with a smile and a nod, taking a quick glance around herself. “I like barracks very much.”

“AH!” The Baron exclaimed in delight, gesturing at her with both arms. “YOU SPEAK GOOD!”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling as she nodded. “Thank you,” she replied slowly and clearly. “You also speak good.”

“Henry,” Peter muttered, tensely, and Henry’s eyes jumped to him in time to see Daniel reach out and place a placating hand on the Commander’s arm, Daniel staring calmly between the Baron and Melanie’s interaction.

“Wait,” Daniel tried to hush him quietly. “Let them be.”

The sailor’s eyes narrowed at the flicker of a faint smile on the Captain’s lips, trying to determine the angle Daniel was playing at in this sudden change of strategy, but the loud, bellowing voice of the Baron jolted him back to the more concerning reality.

“YOU. COME. FROM. FAR AWAY?” The Baron shouted, gesturing wildly with his arms and hands in a way that Melanie was sure, somewhere, might make some kind of sense. She bit her tongue just slightly as she pondered the best response to line up what she wanted to really get to in their little conversation. “Ah, might be a bit too complicated for her, that one,” he muttered under his breath as he watched her consider him. He was about to rephrase, shaking his arms out again, when her mouth opened.

“Yes, very far!” she exclaimed slowly, on a slightly louder whisper than usual to try and keep her voice clear. “You… from here?” She asked, pointing downward and into the barracks grounds as she tipped her head.

“AH!” The Baron clapped his hands as if this was some kind of outstanding stage performance, laughing in a way that shook his belly. “NO! NOT FROM HERE! I--”

“Oooh,” Melanie drawled, as if everything was suddenly clicking in, regarding the Baron with raised eyebrows before she smiled at him and turned to the Commander and others directly, her eyes dancing between the three. “Do we happen to have a translator on hand that may allow the Baron to speak his native language?”

Four sets of eyes stared at her, blinking, Henry’s face etched with pity and regret both. Melanie waited a moment before speaking again. “He speaks King’s Tongue quite well, but I don’t wish for him to struggle through conversation if it’s unnecessary.”

The Baron’s body had come to a jarring halt as color rapidly began to build in his face from behind his bushy beard. Surrounding him, a wild collection of reactions were bringing the giant woman some delicious satisfaction.

Henry’s head dropped instantly to stare at his shoes, the Commander staring at Melanie as if she had suddenly grown an extra head, and the Captain’s face utterly contorting with the effort to restrain a look of surprise? Rage? Something else? From how red his face was, Melanie was satisfied with any outcome. Behind her, she could hear a poorly contained series of choking sounds from either Miller, Jones, or both of them.

“Lord Hargreaves,” the Commander said loudly and clearly, similar in volume to how the man had addressed her, “is a native speaker of King’s Tongue, actually. My sincerest apologies, to you both, there appears to have been a rather exceptional miscommunication between the Staff Sergeant and ourselves.”

“Yes, I do believe so,” the Baron coughed loudly, turning from Melanie sharply and facing Henry, who looked back up to him with a dangerously neutral expression and a pointed refusal to make eye contact with the giant woman behind him. “Uhm, as you had been saying, Samu-- Lemuels, you are her liaison, then?”

“I am, my Lord, yes, and I can answer any questions you may have about her,” he said calmly, the Baron looking visibly relieved as the color very, very slowly began to leave his face. “Would you perhaps like to move to a more comfortable location?”

“Yes, I would appreciate that very much, thank you Sam-- Lemuels.”

“I’ll lead you both to a free office,” Commander Martellis volunteered, gesturing politely with his arm and a bow as the Baron and Henry began to swiftly walk back in the direction the Baron and party had originally traveled from. Peter turned to shoot Daniel a knowing, upset look as the Captain tried to put his face right, the Commander gesturing toward Melanie with a sharp, pointed stare at the man.

Daniel released a tense breath before nodding, not even feeling upset by the temporary assignment. He saluted the Commander swiftly, and turned without a word to find the nearest trap door that would lead him to a ground-level exit, hoping to contain his laughter until he was well within the walls.

“As you were, Melanie,” the Commander offered to her, the giant woman snapping to a proper salute after checking near her feet.

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” she said, her eyes darting to make sure she was looking at Henry and the Baron’s backs still before a guilty look came over her face and she mouthed ‘sorry’ at the Commander. She spun quickly on her heel before she could see any response from him, her cheeks growing red as she squatted back down and sat on the grass next to the wall once more.

A tense quiet followed, Wells and Francine slowly making their way over to her as she heard the now much fainter conversation with the Baron fading into the distance with their delicate bootsteps. She openly grimaced at them, her shoulders shirking awkwardly.

“That was horrendous,” Wells stated bluntly, Francine letting out an explosively exhausted breath.

“I have a headache on your behalf,” the woman added to Wells’ remark with a groan, lifting her hat and running a hand over her hair. “Normally not one to speak ill of the nobility and titleholders, but Hargreaves… even I’m a bit surprised that he behaved as such.”

“Oh,” Melanie said, slumping back against the wall with a relieved breath, deflating, “so that’s not normal, then?”

“No,” the two First Lieutenants stressed, laughing. “Lord, I hope he’s the only one,” Wells added, adjusting the sleeves of his coat as he glanced back over his shoulder to monitor the self-assigned posts they had both abandoned, making sure no gawkers had taken the liberty to get too close.

“Me as well,” Francine agreed, turning to smirk up at the giant woman as she leaned back against Melanie’s boot. “I personally feel you handled it well, though.” 

“I adamantly disagree,” Melanie muttered, her eyebrows raising while her head shook. “Everyone in the area had to listen to it, for one thing, and I wasn’t exactly displaying--”

“Decorum,” the sharp voice made her jump slightly, her leg twitching enough to jostle Francine, though the small woman was unoffended by it. The Lieutenants snapped to attention after a fluid salute, Melanie’s head turning to locate where the Captain had suddenly appeared from as she straightened her posture as best as possible while sitting and saluted as well.

“Sir,” the Lieutenants addressed him, Melanie’s voice echoing quietly shortly afterwards, her large eyes finally landing on the small man as he marched with purpose from the base of a slightly protruding section of wall. The wall was actually adorned with thicker areas as such at regular intervals, and she hadn’t bothered to look low enough on them to see they all had doors at the bottom, along with arrow slits all up the height of them.

“You’re dismissed for lunch,” Grant ordered, waving to the two Lieutenants and gesturing broadly at the footpath-road beyond the storage sheds. Francine’s eyebrows raised slightly with surprise before quickly readjusting to a professional, stoic expression.

“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting again.

“I’m willing to wait until final call sir, to ensure she has proper observation, if--” Wells began, his clear and proper manner of speaking sounding smooth and inoffensive but getting cut off sharply all the same.

“Unnecessary,” Grant said bluntly, his eyes dropping as he adjusted his clothing. “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Wells replied obediently, saluting and turning almost in perfect synchronicity with Francine, the two heading off. Melanie was unsure if she was sad or appreciative that neither of them looked back to see the restrained look of discomfort on her face.

Neither her nor the Captain looked at each other for a solid minute or two, Grant idling in an at ease position as he seemed to sternly observe the items around him again. Melanie simply sat, her eyes scanning what she could see of the roofs and walls and windows of the other buildings within the large stone walls, her tension growing as she simply waited for the demands and questions about her personal effects to come flying at her like daggers again from his mouth.

“...The proper way to address a Baron is by ‘Lord’ or ‘my Lord’.”

Melanie blinked. The Captain’s voice was blunt, as always, but much flatter than what she would’ve expected for a correction like that. Her eyes moved to see him with his back to her, his hat removed.

“My apologies, sir,” she whispered awkwardly. “I wasn’t told to expect visitors, so I never asked about titles and how to address them.”

“Well,” the Captain’s voice was sharp again, “you won’t always be coddled with the grace of an early itinerary.” The giant woman, despite knowing he was looking pointedly away from her, refrained from rolling her eyes all the same while he continued to chide her. “You should’ve been taught these things prior to now. You seemed to be aware of how to address the Duke and Duchess appropriately.”

“I asked for that because I had warning enough that I’d be dealing with them, and--” Melanie began quietly, air rushing into her nose to try and calm her as she was interrupted.

“You don’t deal with the Nobility,” Grant snapped as he wheeled on her, his piercing blue eyes locking with hers before she shot her own gaze away uncomfortably. “The Nobility is dealing with you. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Very hard to forget, honestly,” she muttered, her face going red. He was right to correct her, but it didn’t make her any less edgy after everything the day had dragged her through so far. He coughed sharply, her eyes dashing back to him. They stared at each other, his expression sharp and expectant, her expression growing more concerned while her brow furrowed in confusion.

“...You’ll address both the Commander and I with sir, or our ranks,” he admonished her.

She squirmed uncomfortably, her face going redder as her eyes dropped to the ground. “Sorry, sir,” she offered genuinely-- she had slipped again. “Thought I was in the clear because your hat was off.”

“What?” His tone of genuine surprise and confusion captured her attention in full again. He was gripping his hat tightly in one hand, fidgeting with it irritably. “I maintain the same rank and authority regardless of if my hat is on, where’d you get that preposterous notion?”

The giant woman couldn’t help but roll her eyes this time. “I asked about the significance of officers taking their hats off the other day,” she whispered, mumbling embarrassedly and uncomfortably. “I was told it was a sign of more… lax protocol being permitted.” A brief second flew past before she added a rushed but earnest “sir” to the end.

Grant was deathly still as he continued to stare at her, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in an extremely incredulous expression. Enough time passed in the tense silence that Melanie was fully prepared this time when he opened his mouth again.

“That’s not--” he stammered, his movements rigid, “no. That’s not what that means. You still have to observe authority correctly.” The small man’s tiny, pale-blue eyes felt like they’d burn a hole through her. “Who told you that?”

“I forget,” she said quickly, too impatient to even care if she was being remotely believable and not wanting to get in any further trouble with Grant, Martellis, or the General today. “I’ll do my best to learn the proper rules, sir, from here on out, and try not to forget them--”

“You’ve had enough time to learn proper decorum around the officers of the Watch--” his voice cut her off sharply, her patience breaking under this final straw as she returned the favour.

Her knee shot up and her foot planted heavily into the soft sod beneath her, his voice dropping instantly at the movement of one of her arms swinging up to rest across it as she leaned toward him, letting her face become a giant billboard for her aggravation if only for a moment. Grant took a half-step backwards, becoming visibly angrier at her massive movements and opening his mouth to continue speaking before she snapped on a breath.

“It’s been five days.”

Melanie’s voice was quiet, raspy and airy as she forced herself to seethe in near silence. Her face was red and her sharp expression quickly faded to one of hurt and discomfort as she caught herself, clamping her back teeth down on her tongue while her eyes flew up and away to the empty gray sky. “Not even a week, in a foreign country,” she added, softer but still stung and bitter. “I’m trying, sir.”

Daniel Grant stared upwards at the giant woman who had just brought his tongue to such a sudden halt that he was worried he may have sprained it. It had only been five days? He maintained his professional composure, years of practice of standing at attention, keeping a thousand-yard stare and a neutral expression while your mind had to run through a million thoughts.

It honestly felt like she had already been here a month or more. She had already done so much-- potentially irreparable-- damage to the structure of the Watch. She had already shaken up everything around him to a point that he was worried he would lose all familiarity with his own life. Only five days rattled him to his core; of course nothing would be back to normal that fast. Of course it would take longer than this for some semblance of normalcy to return.

His mouth opened, hanging there as he admitted to himself, with some reluctance: Of course she wouldn’t be settled, or learned, or even comfortable yet. He felt a lump in his throat form as he struggled with words that he wanted to sound authoritative, but still apologetic. He had honestly not even realized, nor considered, the true extent of the legitimacy of her own struggles.

He had almost settled on something that could be passable, when the large, aggravated woman leaned back with a hissing sigh out of her nose, her back falling against the gray stone wall with a soft thud.

“Don’t damage the grounds,” he snapped automatically, all of the careful words he had managed to line up vanishing into the ether with the last of his patience. Her hands came up in an irritated mock-surrender as she leaned forward again, bringing both knees up and hugging them tightly as he continued to speak to her, the giant hazel eyes refusing to move back to him still. “Unfortunately, regardless of how long you’ve been here, we have neither the luxury nor the liberty to grant you a leisurely adjustment period. You’ll just have to adapt and--”

“Fuller and the boys are on the way with lunch, ma’am!” Miller’s voice boomed out from above them, allegedly oblivious to the world’s worst pep-talk happening below, Grant muttering something under his breath.

“Thank God,” Melanie breathed, her shoulders still tense. “Thank you, Miller,” she called back, her neck craning to try and see Fuller and the Brigade members between the store sheds in front of her.

“They’re bringing an entire cart,” the Captain commented incredulously. “They shouldn’t need--”

“I haven’t had anything to drink, it’s probably for the water,” the giant woman whispered, her voice clearly displaying the vacancy where her own patience used to be. “I’m going to see if they need help with any of it. Mind yourself, sir.”

She didn’t wait for him to make a remark back and just pushed herself off of the ground. He uttered one or two words of protest behind her as she carefully stepped around the remaining items and toward the sheds, but let herself breathe a sigh of relief when it seemed he had quickly, mercifully, given up on the idea.

Grant watched her leave with his arms crossed over his chest, fidgeting his hat in a hand to try and cover for how ruffled the massive, sudden movement had made him. He took a deep breath, focusing on giving himself some grace for not being used to it yet.

It had been, after all, only five days.

Chapter Text

“Her lands have significantly different political structure from what information I was able to gather while there,” Henry said from across the desk in the relatively bare office he and Lord Hargreaves had been led to. His hand reached up to scratch his beard idly, only to remember with a vague disappointment that it had been very skillfully shorn off of him. Even now, there was hardly a hint of stubble to be found.

 The conversation between himself and Lord Hargreaves had been going for quite some time, including on their way back down the wall to the barracks building, and the Baron-- once his embarrassment had faded-- was interested in the kinds of details Henry was actually eager to share. “I do apologize,honestly,” the man in the Naval uniform continued, his hat resting on the desk, “that I was not able to inform her of proper ways to address all the varying titles she would be interacting with.”

“Lemuels, my boy, please-- no need to apologize for it,” Hargreaves dismissed him with a wave and a blustery laugh. The rotund man’s spirits had lifted significantly over the course of their conversation, though mostly seeming to do with the idea that the blame for the embarrassment that had loudly occurred atop the wall was to fall firmly on the shoulders of Staff Sergeant Thorne. “When I was plucked from my morning ride to come here I was left just as much in the dark as you were, I’m certain. I’d recommend briefing her on it before this ‘Council’ that Thorne’s been blabbering about comes to form, however.”

Henry’s eyebrows raised at the casual nature with which the Baron admitted he was privy to information that should be confidential, even to someone of his position. Hargreaves continued as if he didn’t notice, which just proved to put the sailor at further unease. “While you are a fabulous liaison for her, knowing that she’s as fluent and- I must say- eloquent as she is after so short a time being taught by you, they’ll wish to speak with her directly. Setting proper perceptions with them will be of utmost importance.”

The long-haired man internally flinched at the lie he had been saddled with, grimacing for a very brief flash as Hargreaves readied himself to stand again. “We have already been doing what we can to prepare her,” he said, nodding as he tried to stay in the chair as long as possible, his leg and hip acting up after the walk down the wall. “She had been taught to address the Officers and the Duke and Duchess, but again, we were quite surprised by your visit.”

“And again, as was I,” the bearded man chuckled. He finished adjusting himself and Henry was left with no time to continue waiting, moving to stand as they both headed for the door.

Outside, still standing guard in the hall just a few doors up from where they were exiting, was Peter with two First Lieutenants that Henry had not met before. The voice of the General was muffled through the door outside which they were posted, repeatedly interrupting the muffled voice of the Staff Sergeant who was occasionally attempting to interject his lengthy telling-off, which was nearly completely indiscernible from outside the room.

“Incredible work, Lemuels. I sincerely look forward to speaking with you more in the future regarding your conquest abroad,” Hargreaves remarked suddenly from beside Henry as a hand slapped the sailor hard on the back. “I don’t suppose the Staff Sergeant would be, erm, available to see me out then?”

“He’s still being… debriefed, by the General, my Lord,” Peter said with a polite bow as Henry’s mind wheeled at the phrasing of the praise he had just received. “I can have Lieutenants Hollis and Patterson take you to the stables and see you to the gate, however. I imagine you have a rather full day ahead.”

“Thank you, Commander,” the Baron replied with a very short dip of his head in respect. “I most certainly do, I’m sure the men I was meeting for a game today are wondering where I am. I suppose it's better to be fashionably late every once in a while than to maintain the expectation that I’m first to arrive.”

Henry and the Commander gave practiced, polite laughs, Henry notably rustier at this particular formality. Luckily for him, the Baron’s boisterous laughter at his own joke covered for any offense he may have given by not acting the part well enough. After seeing the Baron off toward the stairs with the two Lieutenants, Henry and Peter walked back toward the door of the only other occupied office on the floor.

“Can’t say I’m displeased she’s chewing him out,” Henry muttered softly on their approach, Peter heaving a deep sigh from next to him.

“Neither can I,” the Commander agreed, glancing down and noticing Henry’s limp, leaning into an office on a brief halt on their journey to grab a spare chair. “God, Henry, I am so sorry for what happened--”

“Don’t,” he replied firmly, trying to console the man, “and the chair really isn’t necess--”

“It is,” Devon’s flat voice came from behind them, the medic making the sailor jump. Martellis had been well accustomed to Devon’s ‘polite walking’, and was less startled, but still grew slightly red in the face at the idea he had overheard the comments regarding Thorne. The medic stepped forward swiftly and inserted himself under Henry’s unbroken arm so smoothly the sailor barely had a moment to protest before he simply gave in to the help, Devon lecturing him politely. “Your knee is starting to swell again, sir. Rest here and I’ll send Kendrick for some ice when he heads up.”

“Thank you, Devon,” Henry offered, trying to keep his eyes on the ground in the hopes it would hide the embarrassed color of his face. “Is the rider--?”

“Fine, going to have a bad bruise on his hip and backside,” Devon began to explain in a professional tone as the Commander set the chair down a few doors away from the General’s current location, the Lance Corporal helping the sailor into the seat, immediately kneeling to start feeling around the knee and ankle and deciding that there was no point in removing the boot yet. “Nothing sprained or broken, had to answer a number of questions, which we had expected, but then he demanded we help him chase down his horse. Absolute nonsense, but the Corporal insisted we help to at least try to keep the man quiet.”

“Who was it?” Commander Martellis asked, his voice tense as he glanced between the medic and the closed door.

“Cousin to the wife of our main egg farmer,” Devon responded, his brow furrowing. “Garth? Hart?”

“Garth,” Martellis said, frowning in concerned thought.

“Right,” Devon nodded as he stood back up again, moving to the other side of Henry and beginning to check his broken arm and shoulder gently. “He’s in visiting the family, decided to break past patrol to take a gander. Got what was coming to him, in my opinion, and he shut his mouth pretty quickly after the patrolmen he snuck past caught back up to us. They were the ones who caught his horse.”

“What kind of questions was he asking?” Henry asked, finally chiming in as Devon slipped his arm out of the sling for inspection, Martellis nodding with an encouraging grunt from alongside.

“Where’d she come from, what is she, why isn’t she in chains,” Devon began to list, sounding exhausted. “Tried to make a comment on her diet, Lionus shut that down pretty swiftly, I’ll give him that. Flex your fingers for me, sir.”

Henry did as he was told, watching the medic’s expression as he continued speaking to both him and the Commander. “We told him it was a Watch matter and that she was under all the restraint she needed to be. To be fair to him, he seemed more nosey than anything else, wouldn’t say we have much to worry about. Irritating amount of questions, but harmless.”

As Devon helped the broken arm back into its sling, the sore sailor let out a long, relieved sigh. “That’s good to hear, if nothing else. She’d be less upset if that got back to her somehow.”

“I’d like to speak with Corporal Ethridge on his thoughts of the incident, all the same,” Peter offered tensely. “Where is he at the moment?”

Devon flashed a grimace that only Henry was at an angle to see, the medic moving to stand in proper posture as he finished inspecting the broken arm finally. “The Corporal felt it best if he go and check on her himself, once we returned. I left him with the Captain as her and the crew on the wall were getting lunch.”

“...Daniel?” Henry asked, blinking and turning his head quickly, suddenly realizing who was missing. “Did you--?”

Commander Martellis’ eyes locked with Henry’s and he opened his mouth to defend himself before the motion of Henry trying to stand and Devon firmly pushing him back down onto the chair caused the bearded man to close his eyes and inhale deeply.

“Peter,” Henry hissed.

“Commander,” Peter corrected him quietly, reaching up to adjust his hat. “I know, Henry, I’m sorry, but--”

“She’s already upset,” the seated man said, pointing with the whole of his unbroken arm and hand toward the extremely tired form of the Commander. “We should’ve dragged him back here to--”

“Lance Corporal, you’re dismissed.”

The words were soft, barely rising above a quiet speaking volume, like he had given the order in a library, but they were sharp and left no room for argument. Devon snapped to a full salute with a quick and respectful ‘yes, sir’, before heading toward the stairs at the end of the hall.

Henry chewed on his tongue, anxiety rising in him like bile in his throat as he watched the extremely still form of Peter Martellis observing the total disappearance of Devon in full before speaking again.

“...The Captain,” Peter’s voice returned quietly, not turning to face Henry, “was not someone I was comfortable with interacting with the Baron any longer than was absolutely, completely necessary.”

“He’s been openly antagonistic to her all day, Peter,” Henry sighed softly, turning in his seat to face the man more directly as he looked up at him. “He would’ve been better here, than with--”

“I appreciate your concern,” the Commander said firmly. “I’m aware of his behavior earlier, and that is set to be addressed later by both myself and the General. But he would’ve absolutely not been better here.”

Mouth opening to argue again, the sailor froze as Peter turned to look down at him.

“I understand you’ve been gone for some time.” The words were gentler than Peter’s eyes would have led most to believe they would be. “In that time, Daniel has changed greatly; Exceptionally, in many cases, and at times I feel like the man he is and the man he was are pages from different books entirely. There is one thing about him that has never changed, however.”

Henry closed his mouth and inclined his head respectfully toward Peter, an embarrassed and stung expression crossing his features while he listened.

“The man hates nothing more than the unearned authority of plutocrats and political busy-bodies.”

The words hung in the air like a cloud of smoke on stagnant wind. Henry knew this; Henry honestly, truly, believed that this unchallengeable aspect of Daniel was one of the factors leading to their still-current tensions, if he were to have to pin it to anything at all. He inhaled deeply, considering the incredibly awkward and exhausting situation Peter was in to have to shuffle tense parties around constantly, knowing that he was a factor in that as much as any of the others. Every moment, Peter had to determine what arrangement of personnel would cause the least amount of damage once out of his sight.

It sounded like hell.

And yet…

Henry truly couldn’t bring himself to feel even remotely ok with Melanie being left with Grant, unsupervised by other members.

“...At least Lionus is with her now as well,” he muttered quietly, nodding mostly to himself before turning his face back up to look at Peter. “I’m sorry for the immense stress you’re under, Peter. Commander. All I can do is hope you’ll forgive me for my priorities, at least at the moment.”

“You’re forgiven, Henry,” Peter replied, almost on a whisper, his hand coming out to rest on his old friend’s shoulder. A warm, comforting feeling that felt like a sunny day in a distant memory. “I don’t mean to make this solely your burden, I apologize if it came off as such. I know you’re under incredible pressure yourself, and you’ve had a week I can not imagine, on top of everything that had come before.”

A nostalgic smile came to the sailor’s lips as he moved his unbroken hand to rest on top of Peter’s. The moment lasted barely long enough for either to form words for what could be said next, when suddenly the door just up the hall from them burst open and Staff Sergeant Thorne stomped out.

 “Yes, yes,” Thorne blurted out impatiently, turning to look back into the room and not noticing the two men bringing themselves to both stand at ease in the hall while they waited to be addressed. “It will not happen again without express permissions and the formalities of--”

 “It will not happen at all, Humphrey,” the General’s sharp voice called through the door as the tapping of her shoes approached him. “Plucking up your friends for a quick pop-by the barracks when we’re under Orders of Royal Confidentiality could have your head on a block, do you understand what I’m saying or not?”

 “I understand!” The man snapped back to her, Ais’lyn entering the hall and staring him down with a look that could kill. “...General,” he added tersely.

 The two continued to stare at one another like two cats about to fight in an alley until Henry gently cleared his throat, the Staff Sergeant jumping like someone had fired a gun.

 “Commander, Lemuels,” Thorne addressed them sharply, approaching them with such desperate speed that they both made to part and let him simply storm between before he managed to bring his form to a halt. “We overheard some of the conversation between Hargreaves and the giant, I do hope it went well?”

 “There was an unfortunate misunderstanding regarding her level of communication,” Henry answered smoothly, feeling Peter’s flinch at the less-than-delicate delivery through the very air around them in the hall, the General giving him such an approving inclination of her head from behind the Sergeant that he was sure he had never seen the underside of anyone’s chin so prominently before. “Beyond that, my conversation with him went as well as it could given the lack of preparation and warning we both seemed to have. He’s as curious about the lands she came from as I would expect of anyone of his profession.”

 Thorne openly bristled, shirking his shoulders uncomfortably at the rather casual statement of facts from the blue-clad man in front of him. “Ah, well,” he huffed in response, his eyes darting around the hall quickly. “Where is the Baron at the moment, then?”

 The Commander restrained a sigh, allowing the Staff Sergeant to dodge the question. “He had to leave, we just sent him to the stables to ready, so you should be able to cross him at the main gates before he departs,” Peter explained smoothly, his professional, authoritative air coming back to him. “Which,” he added, “I would recommend doing, if there’s a matter of confidentiality to consider.”

 “Thank you, Commander, by your leave,” the Staff Sergeant replied, his face growing beet red.

 “Thorne,” the General’s voice chased after him as he turned to leave, the woman maintaining her statuesque position and visage from outside the office door, “if word gets out and too far, your retirement will not be a celebration for you.”

 “Noted, General,” the man muttered ashamedly, stomping his way with his awkward limp down the hall and disappearing down the stairs. The three remaining in the hall waited with tense breaths for them to hear the metal door at the bottom to swing open and slam, the faint voice of the Sergeant shouting for hands to hold the Baron as long as possible reaching back to them.

 “...Hargreaves is aware of the Council being formed,” Henry said darkly, turning to Ais’lyn with fist over his heart and a short bow. “He was extremely casual about sharing that with me.”

 “Yes, Thorne has apparently been busy trying to schmooze the man with all of these details,” the General replied, stepping forward to close the gap between herself and the men. Her posture was so rigid, they both expected the sound of breaking glass every time she moved a limb. “We’re lucky, my husband has already given me the preliminary lists of both the Council, and the Voting Board he’s drafting regarding her, and--”

 “Voting Board?” Henry and Peter asked with a start, their voices ringing together.

 “We’re ensuring we cover every angle of this, my dears,” Ais’lyn offered with a genuinely warm smile, reaching out with both hands to rest them on each man’s shoulder gently. “Obviously we can’t control the Provincial House, or Royal Court, but enough of a team to make sure the information we want them to have is getting to where it needs to go.”

 Relief visibly and audibly filled Henry as he let out a tense breath, his eyes dropping to the floor as his mind turned at the opportunities this could afford them in the long run. Beyond his notice beside him, however, Commander Martellis went stiff from that chilled feeling once again; the one he had felt this morning, in the office at the Training Grounds, watching Henry and Ais’lyn strategizing over Melanie’s emotional state for her appearance before the Duke tomorrow.

 He understood-- he always had-- that military service could be just as much about presentation as it could be about skill and practicality. Still, there was something about the control, the management, that was being discussed and exerted here that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Was this just how the sausage got made? Was he finally, in his role and in his prominence in this bizarre situation, seeing behind the curtain to the mechanisms that had always been there, always turning?

 Another option he desperately tried to cling to was that this situation was so exceptional, so bizarre, that these mechanisms were just suddenly springing forth, but seeing how… easily the General and the sailor were able to get on the same page, as if they had always been orchestrating something of this nature, made that a harder and harder thought to grasp.

 “Thank you, General,” he managed after pushing past the uncomfortable, cold feeling in his chest. “Your work is highly appreciated.”

 “We have to keep her where she belongs,” Ais’lyn replied with a firmness that rang with a faint, distant, almost disguised tone of threat. As Peter’s dark brown eyes met with her sparkling emerald irises, he noted a look of almost… sympathy? Understanding? Flickering behind them, before the General’s head turned swiftly enough he was worried her neck would snap.

 “Speaking of where they belong-- where is Grant?” She asked.

 “Ah,” the Commander said, shaking himself out of a near-stupor from his own thoughts. “He’s with Melanie at the--”

 “Alone?” Ais’lyn blurted, staring in horror.

 “Lionus is with her as well, now,” Henry jumped in, attempting to placate her.

 “What do you mean 'now'?” Her eyes dashed to the blue-green eyes of the sailor, terror on her features. “Alright, I have to make sure Humphrey is putting the fear of God in Taylor before that windbag leaves the grounds with information he’s absolutely not to have, before every member of the gentry this side of the hills knows what we’re up to.” A hand snapped to point at the Commander. “You go fetch the Captain, immediately, and bring him here so I can have a talk.”

 “I can go with the Commander to--” Henry started.

 “Not necessary,” Ais’lyn said sharply before catching herself and trying to adopt a more soothing approach, flashing a pitying smile to the man. “I believe that’s for you,” she said, nodding behind the two men in front of her toward the stairs.

 Henry turned to see the freckle-stained face of Kendrick, beaming with what he could only assume was a refreshed, post-nap grin as the boy hoisted two large bags of ice to show off. The sailor sighed as let the pain of his hip grab his attention again, nodding.

 “Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly, forcing a smile toward the approaching medic before turning to Peter with a pleading expression.

 “I’ll send her this way with Miller and her guards,” Martellis offered in a hush as the General finished with her goodbye salutes to the men and stalked off toward the stairs behind Kendrick. “Get an office with a window facing the interior.”

 “Thank you, Peter,” Henry offered in a whisper back, the two men saluting each other before the Commander also turned to leave.

 “Devon told me you needed me, sir!” Kendrick’s voice echoed, brightening the hall.

 “Right he was, Kendrick,” Henry said, genuine warmth returning to his voice. “Thank you for coming. Let’s try to find a room with a view, shall we?”

Chapter Text

 If there was one thing that Melanie really appreciated about the Barracks, it was that almost all of the buildings were a decent distance away from the inside of the walls. Aside from having to step around three rest-huts for the guard patrols, the giant woman had essentially been able to walk around the entire perimeter of the grounds alongside Miller, Jones and Penelope, her height changing in relation to them every so often as either the wall rose with the ground underneath it, or the ground alongside it dipped or rose. 

 “Same as near the mounting-wall,” Miller was explaining as he gestured back toward the section of wall across the grounds from them where netting and ropes were strung to the top and active climbing drills were still happening. He was barely winded from their long and rather quick trek as his tour marched on. “These storage sheds are specifically for tactical equipment n’ munitions. Keeps ‘em close for training exercises, and where these walls face the same direction as the front gates, good to keep ‘em handy in the event we need to repel anything.”

 Melanie nodded, smiling as she glanced at the roofs that came to about her knees. Most of the Barracks-stationed members of the Watch had become as used to her presence as she could expect, most of them simply marking her path and staying out of the way, but continuing with their own tasks with little interruption. The staring was still something she was trying not to focus on, but Wells and Francine were doing a good job at foot-level of either chasing them away, or encouraging conversation with the members she knew from the Training Grounds to make the situation seem more normal.

 “What are the buildings in the center, across from the stables, used for?” She asked on a whisper, glancing around yet again to ensure that Grant or anyone who might tell her she wasn’t supposed to know this information weren’t anywhere nearby. The Captain had been hauled away rather abruptly by the Commander as herself and her guards had been finishing lunch with Fuller and the Idiot Brigade, and despite Grant being mostly quiet and restrained-- never anything close to personable, to be certain-- for the duration of it the atmosphere still brightened significantly between them all in his absence. The large woman assumed his change in demeanor was more to do with Lionus’ arrival for a brief check-up of her than anything to do with the Captain himself. 

 “Stages, ma’am!” Miller called excitedly. “For building boats, carts, crates n’ barrels if we’re in a bind for ‘em. Useful spots, when the weather is awful we can hold drills in the two larger ones just over the mound in the center, there,” he said, pointing excitedly as she turned her head between him and what he was showing her. “Between those is the guest bunks for when we’re housing teams from away or from the other branches, though the Barracks isn’t so packed most days, so most times they just take over a floor or a wing and we shuffle as needed.”

 “We threaten to send the snorers out to the guest bunks,” Jones chimed in, nudging Miller on his way past, “but to be honest I don’t know if they’ve been used in the last two seasons.”

 Melanie nodded, gazing over the areas they had been past again. Still, the thing that stood out the most to her that she was trying not to be too irritated about was that there was a second gate, at the back, that led to the cleared and grassy fields where they evidently run cavalry drills. That gate was significantly taller, if only by virtue that the unpaved road leading out to the fields was a steep decline, the wall having been built at the top of some kind of plateau or outcropping. She would’ve fit much better through that one, with only some awkward ducking.

 “That mound in the center is where we have Friday Ales!” Miller announced, still as excited as ever about his fabulous tour-guide skills. “Also where we have larger briefings and where more esteemed guests come to give speeches, but the most important thing is that’s where the Friday Ales happen.”

 The giant woman laughed, covering her mouth with a hand and observing the mound at the center of the walled area, surrounded as it was by buildings. Every area seemed to have a beaten path to the top of it, where a large stone fire-pit and something that looked like a poured-concrete stage sat, surrounded by a number of miss-matched benches made from varying leftover construction materials. “Definitely extremely important,” she agreed, turning to Miller with a grin.

 “I think that’s about it for the Barracks grounds,” he said after they took a moment to just stand, letting everyone rest for a minute. “The Barracks building itself, obviously, I can’t give you an inside tour of but it’s the only stop left, so I can give you a good idea of where everything is from the outside.”

 “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her eyes scanning over the face of the building with interest, looking at the red-and-white bricks and the windows of varying sizes. Several balconies were scattered across the faces of it, the building similar to the Training Grounds facilities and looking like an odd, boxy U-shape, though one of the extended sides was notably shorter. She found herself fairly enamored by its asymmetry, and had noticed as they had started to trek closer to it again that it was likely that way due to more recent additions, the colors and wear of the stones standing out as fresher or different.

 Her eyes snagged several times on the faces of people within the windows, most of them staring openly at her and darting away as she made surprised eye-contact with them. Two of them had even bothered to reach out and slam the shutters closed, which made her shiver with discomfort. Miller, whether he noticed it or not, began to loudly and engagingly run her through the sections of the Barracks, leaning over the wall so much to make sure she could see him pointing that she moved her back against it to let her shoulders and neck lean behind him to avoid him falling off in eagerness.

 The newer section, on the extended side, housed a two-floor high gymnasium so the members could exercise for extended periods still, even in winter, a floor of meeting or staging rooms of some kind, a floor of bunk rooms, and the top floor of Officer’s quarters. It also, as best as Miller could explain it, housed an elevator-like lift system which only went from the bottom floor to the top floor, but sounded genius for not using any kind of electricity. The mess hall, and the ‘newer, bigger, better’ kitchens were on the opposite side of the building beneath another floor of bunk rooms that were typically reserved for those with kitchen duties, and above those were the start of the medical wing. The top two floors of that side were apparently storage and maintenance, and a complicated water collection, storage and filtration system that ran most of the internal plumbing.

 “Reason the kitchens are so good is that the building uses water-heating,” Jones explained to both Melanie and Penelope, his arms crossed as he rested on the parapet. “In the summer we only keep one boiler rolling at a time, just for heated water for the showers and baths on the ground floor, back side of the main block, and even then only in the evenings most times, but in the winter time there’s always fires going to keep the boilers hot, so the kitchens are always ready to cook and keep things cooking all day.” 

 “Huh, very smart,” Melanie muttered, impressed, tipping her head as she picked out what she now assumed were small steam vents on the sides and roof of the building. She genuinely had no idea if it was or wasn’t genius, never having had the need to think about radiators or the like outside of a car for years, and even then chalking it up to ‘that’s a mechanic’s problem’, but knowing they had something other than fireplaces to keep a place that large heated through the year was good to know. She could tell fireplaces were still a factor if only for the chimneys that poked through the roof at the center and corners of the building, and the storage areas for lumber and firewood.

 “Is that Private March?” Penelope asked suddenly, covering her brow with a hand as she looked toward the Barracks building, everyone’s attention jumping to the windows and scanning.

 “It is,” Jones confirmed, laughing as he pointed and directed the giant woman on where to look. “Main block, right side, third floor ma’am.”

 She smiled widely, catching the frantic wide waving of Kendrick out of the third-floor window, waving back with small movements of her arm at roughly chest level. “I think he’s trying to call me over,” she whispered, awkwardly.

 “The Commander did say Mr. Henry was hoping to chat with you whenever we could make our way over,” Miller offered, walking a bit closer to her shoulder as she turned to look at him. “Check with Wells to make sure he can find you a good route and you should be fine to approach.”

 An uncomfortable noise left her throat. Today had already been bad enough, and she had reason to suspect that while one window led to Henry and Kendrick, any of the others could potentially lead to more of Captain Grant’s attitude, or any number of unfamiliar people giving her uncomfortable stares or frightened glances.

 “They’ll get used to you, ma’am,” Jones said with a firm confidence as he walked behind her to approach Miller, tapping her lightly on the back. She jumped a bit at the feeling, and then smiled a little at the friendly contact. “Just like at the Training Grounds. Give ‘em time, but I doubt it’ll take long.”

 “If we’re here for dinner, we can do what we did that first breakfast probably,” Miller said, excitement in his voice. “Oh, could see if maybe we could swing Saturday Ales if--”

 “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ed,” Jones sighed, smacking the man on the shoulder. “She’s heading back to Training Grounds tonight, that was cleared before we came here.”

 “Alright, fine,” Miller conceded, sulking.

 “I’m not one for ale, personally,” Melanie admitted guiltily, “but I’ll do what I can to make sure you get to enjoy it soon, Miller. Sorry for causing such a disruption to everything.”

 “Oh no, ma’am!” Miller turned to her abruptly, a flash of a panicked expression on his face before he busted into laughter. “It’s not really about you drinking ales, it’s just about gettin’ the squads around a fire or two and having a good time. While I drink ales.”

 She buckled forward as the laugh caught her completely by surprise, turning back to see the extremely proud look on Miller’s face as Jones hit him in the arm again, chuckling himself. “You arse,” Jones chided him.

 “Thank you for the tour, Edmund,” Melanie said softly with a smile after she had chuckled herself out, cocking her head toward the Barracks building. “I should go check on Kendrick and Henry though, just in case it was something urgent.”

 “Yes ma’am!” Edmund replied, beaming happily at his first name and snapping to a strong salute, Melanie checking near her feet before doing the same, Jones and Penelope following suit. “I’ll check on you later, once we’re off the wall and check for any other orders!”

 The three wall-top guards took off together toward the nearest set of stairs after their quick goodbyes, the massive woman turning back to face Wells and Francine and crouching carefully.

 “Who were you waving at, Miss? We couldn’t see them from behind the stalls,” Wells asked as he approached at a well-paced march, Francine in step with him.

 “Kendrick, I think he’s trying to flag me over to talk with Henry,” she responded as her eyes moved back to the window in question, a curtain tied with a knot at the bottom flapping out in the light breeze-- a marker for her to follow. Her eyes moved back to the two in front of her as she tipped her head awkwardly. “Think it’s possible for me to…?”

 “I can start clearing the roadways,” Francine said with a smile. “Easy enough to get there from here, we just follow the road back to the main gate and turn left before the well and stables.”

 “No problem at all, Miss,” Wells called up to her after nodding to Francine. “We’ll give Lt. Wright a minute and then you and I will set off. Did you enjoy the tour from Miller?”

 “I did, there’s a lot more to the Barracks than I was expecting,” she said quietly, saluting Francine before the woman turned to head off, her Noble Guard uniform easy to keep track of between the buildings and among the members of the Watch.

 “It was a hub for maritime operations for a very long time, but our shores have been quiet for years now, thankfully,” the small man replied, taking his hat off and rolling his shoulders and neck. “Every now and then the Navy will come through for training operations and the place gets busy again, but our funding for expansions got cut by the provincial parliament after we started to downsize.”

 “Oh.” The noise of surprise was accompanied by her eyebrows raising. “That’s unfortunate, though I do like the building having an unconventional shape like that. And it’s good to hear it still gets used when the Navy is coming around.”

 “They’re running training operations this coming week, technically,” Wells said, “but it’s just one or two ships for some reason. We suspect it’s a Royal Family member of some kind, because the crews aren’t coming to Barracks. Tends to be how it goes, and members of the family are all involved in military, save for the handful of dark horses throughout the years. Duke William being one.”

 He turned and pointed up to her, getting Melanie’s attention in full. “That’s gossip, by the way,” he said, gesturing to his hatless-head. “Don’t repeat it.”

 She smirked, nodding. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

 The two of them made their way to the Barracks building with very little trouble, though being so high over Wells and eventually Francine, and the grounds here being so much busier than the Training Grounds had ever been, it was nearly impossible for them to have a conversation between the three of them beyond one of them calling up a direction and Melanie affirming. She kept her eyes on the stone-laid path or road under her, trying not to take too much stock in the sounds of windows on the barracks building being shuttered one after the other.

 Thanking Wells and Francine quietly when they had arrived and she had found a place to tuck herself that wasn’t blocking natural traffic flow through the doors, she smiled as they took up posts again behind her and the voice of Kendrick greeted her from the window.

 “Afternoon, Miss!”

 The giant woman grinned in spite of her general anxiety of being so close to so many windows, greeting the young man in return politely. “Afternoon, Kendrick. Did you have a good rest?”

 The young man’s face went brilliantly red, Melanie giggling softly as he offered a quiet response she couldn’t quite make out but got the gist of. He moved out of the way to pull the curtains to the side, letting her see Henry as he sat across two chairs with his legs up, ice packs resting on him.

“How bad is it?” She asked before he had a chance to speak.

A gentle smile pulled up one side of his mouth as he looked at what he could see of her through the small window from his odd angle. “We’ve been icing it for a while now, I should be fine, but I won’t be running back to the Training Grounds if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she teased, “it’s lovely scenery and you could use the exercise after all of this lazing around.”

“Har har,” he called sarcastically before adjusting himself and looking at her with a more serious expression. “Are you alright?”

She hesitated, taking a moment to glance around the immediate area for anyone she could potentially get in trouble with before locking eyes with him once more with a shrug. “Am I allowed to answer that?”

“No need,” he said with a sigh, the question being answer enough, sinking back into the chair with a frown. “I am… extremely sorry for what happened earlier.”

She shrugged again. “So am I, I should’ve been kinder to the Lord Baron--”

“I meant about Daniel,” Henry interrupted her.

“Oh,” she said in surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Which part?”

“All of it,” he said bluntly, “but mostly that I didn’t realize he had been left with you after the incident with Lord Hargreaves. Which, yes, you do need to apologize for.”

She sighed, grimacing, “I will, I hope he isn’t--”

“No,” Henry snapped through the window. “He’s more than fine now, that was the Staff Sergeant’s mistake. It’s me you should apologize to. I thought the man was going to die of embarrassment in front of me and I can’t handle that stress.”

The laughter that erupted from Melanie, though restrained, was still enough to echo oddly between the boxy U-shaped brick walls around them in a way that made the woman cover her mouth and turn a Kendrick-level red. “To be fair,” she started, whispering, as more shutters closed-- though some further away reopened-- and she leaned slightly closer to the window.

“No,” Henry called to her, arguing through his own laughter, “there’s nothing fair about this. I’ll admit the man had it coming, but that doesn’t mean you had to help it happen.”

“What was I supposed to do?” She asked, chuckling. “Stare and pretend to be mute? Or dumb? That’d just make this more likely to happen again.”

“I didn’t think far enough ahead to know what you should’ve done,” he admitted with a smug expression, shaking his head as his laughter died down. “I do, legitimately, feel sorry it happened however.”

“I appreciate it but it was out of your control,” she offered quietly, shifting her feet a little to try and be more comfortable as she continued to squat outside of the window.

“As your liaison--”

“Whom he wasn’t listening to because you’re liaison to this,” she interrupted him, gesturing widely to herself with a hand.

Henry’s tone dropped instantly, and she grimaced at the sound of it. “Mind yourself, please,” he directed, a strange mix of disappointment or sadness, and scolding. “I don’t like when you talk like that.”

“I don’t either, ma’am,” Kendrick’s voice came from beside the window, startling her as she chewed her lip.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Forgot you were there, Kendrick, my apologies. And sorry, I know,” the giant woman added with a guilty look in through the window to the battered sailor. She took a deep inhale through her nose, fixing her face with the help of their practice, and nodded to him when she was ready again.

His mouth opened to speak again, but simply hung. She was right, no matter how much he disliked the overly-negative attitude she was bound to wind up in today after everything that had happened. Regardless of his position, regardless of the ridiculous costume he was in, no matter how well he wanted to do his job, the facts were that once the Baron had seen a forty-five foot woman there was no hope for salvaging the conversation. “I’ll do better next time,” was all he could offer, watching her face twitch as it tried to show him sympathy before it snapped back to the closest expression to ‘neutral’ they had ever managed to train her to make. “Now that I know this is a possibility, I’ll know better what to do-- or at least try-- for next time.”

“Thank you,” she offered softly. The faint sound of other voices drifted to her from the grounds and the interior of the building in their light, somewhat-comfortable pause, and she reached for a distraction. “How bad is his leg really, Kendrick?”

The red headed medic popped his head from around the corner of the window where he’d been concealed, smiling brightly at her. Immediately she was a bit more at-ease. “Just the hip, which we knew was going to be a problem today, and his knee is a bit more swollen now from all of the walking and stairs with Lord Hargreaves, ma’am.”

Melanie smirked as she watched him move to start adjusting and checking the bags of ice again, the small man eager to work. “That’s good, at least,” she said, taking some enjoyment at the hassled look on Henry’s face as he submitted to another polite medical inspection.

“Devon said my ankle isn’t swollen from all he can tell, so that’s a relief,” the sailor interjected. “I’m looking forward to being able to move again without having to worry about all of this.”

“You were shipwrecked,” she chided him. “Take the time to actually rest.”

“Yes sir,” Kendrick agreed, “your leg should be fine in another day or two if you can stay off of it long enough, though I know that’s a bit of a hard spot to be in right at the moment.”

“Thank you, both,” Henry replied heavily, trying to make sure his genuine appreciation for their care sounded louder than the frustration of being fussed over. He adjusted his position again to face her as directly as he could through the window with his leg still propped and iced. “Anything you need in the meantime?”

“See if we can’t get permission to just lay out the tent and bigger items to hopefully get them dry?” She asked timidly on a breath, looking nervous. “I don’t know if the clouds will break today but even just letting them out and checking them would help my stress.”

“I’ll see what I can swing while the General is still with us today, but that might be a bit much. We were only supposed to be here a few hours,” he explained with a sigh and a nod. “At least, that’s the impression I had taken this morning.”

“Even just setting out the expectation we’ll ask tomorrow is useful,” the giant woman offered gently, and the sailor smirked to himself as his eyes turned down. She was trying to comfort him.

“Thank you,” he said warmly, turning to Kendrick. “Think I’ve been chilled long enough, Doctor March?”

Kendrick’s giggle at the title covered both Melanie and Henry’s faces with wide grins. “Yes, sir!” He replied, walking forward to start removing the bags of ice from him.

“Excellent,” Henry replied, moving to stand with the medic’s help after he had been freed. “Help me find the General, if you could. Melanie,” he called, ducking to stick his head out the window. “Head somewhere quiet to relax for a while. I’ll send for you or head your way whenever we’re ready.”

She smiled and brought a finger up to his outstretched hand. “Yes, sir,” she said, causing them both to chuckle as she pinched his hand gently between her finger and thumb. “You know how to reach me.”

Herself, Wells and Francine began the trek back to her sequestered spot behind the storage shed with her things. She didn’t feel great, but she felt better. That was improvement enough for today.

Chapter Text

Commander Peter Martellis pulled in a slow, nearly-silent breath of meditation. His diaphragm expanded beneath his folded hands as he sat in one of the ornate, padded chairs of the Commander’s Office, his arms concealing the movement so well that- should anyone have been looking- he would’ve seemed all the stillness of a statue.

His eyes remained open, moving slowly back and forth between two fixed points in his visual range, not turning his head by his neck or shoulders. The man may as well have been carved from stone; a solid, stoic constant…

…amidst absolute chaos.

“General, with all due respect--”

“Do not take that tone with me, Captain, I know what your ‘due respect’ entails and--”

“That is an unfair statement, General, and this entire discussion could be finished if you would simply let me speak without interr--”

“We had plenty of opportunity to speak earlier today back at the Training Grounds and, quite frankly, Captain, we took it. Your unwillingness to listen is now what’s causing this entire--”

Peter Martellis’ eyes closed as he released the deep, slow breath as quietly as possible. Their banter continued for two more passes before he finally opened his eyes again, his shoulders rolling back while his throat cleared loudly.

The silence that filled the office was blissful, the General and the Captain both turning to him in surprise as if they had forgotten he was still in the room. Moments passed as he looked between them both with his eyebrows raised, making sure neither was intending to speak over him. 

“I appreciate that you are both passionate about this situation,” his voice was measured, level, as his eyes met with Daniel’s and then locked with Ais’lyn’s intensely. “While I agree that there is a need of… fine-tuning, I’ll say, of our current approaches, the Captain’s points are still valid and crucial to consider.”

“Peter, this situation is unprecedented beyond measure and--” Ais’lyn began before he raised a hand in response.

“Commander,” he corrected her, the General clenching her jaw but offering a conceding nod in response. While his rank was still beneath hers, she understood the level of respect still expected and required. “This situation’s unprecedented nature is precisely why Captain Grant’s opinion that we should maintain as much typical protocol as possible isn’t wrong, General. I believe he deserves to speak to his intentions and goals on this matter more clearly.” 

The Commander turned toward the Captain, gesturing with a hand politely but with a stern expression of ‘do not fuck this up’. Daniel fidgeted in his seat subtly before clearing his throat.

“Starting tomorrow,” Grant began quietly, calmly, forcing his breaths to be measured and careful, “your husband the Duke will be arriving, as will members of every other military branch and political sector that could possibly want a hand on this situation. She needs to be ready for--”

Ais’lyn’s voice cracked across him like a whip and his eyes blinked rapidly as it took every ounce of effort he had to stop from screaming. “She is more than ready enough considering she is a shipwrecked foreigner and--”

“General,” Martellis’ voice corrected her, quiet but firm. The red-haired woman snapped her jaw closed with a pointed clacking of her teeth, her fiery green eyes boring into Daniel’s icy blues. The Captain cleared his throat again, his cheeks flushing blotchily from the effort of maintaining professional decorum.

“Yes, she is,” Daniel stated a bit more forcefully than he probably intended, but it had the effect he wanted. Peter and Ais’lyn both looked at him with puzzled but expectant expressions as he continued. “She is more than ready as a shipwrecked foreigner, who is forty-five feet tall and speaks fluently to be aggressively argued over and about by anyone with the ability to form an opinion.”

The Duchess’ head shook in surprise as she blinked, her expression going momentarily blank as her posture straightened. The Captain broke his intense stare off from her only long enough to direct comment to the Commander as well.

“You’ve both made it very clear that the goal is to keep her here,” he said firmly, leaning forward to tap a finger down on top of the desk as if physically pinning his point down in front of them. “If you want her to be here then she has to be treated the same as everyone else here.”

Martellis inclined his head, his eyes drifting to another part of the room. Grant’s explanation as the two of them had walked back to the Barracks building was brief, as neither of them wanted it to be overheard, but had been to the point. If Melanie was going to be considered a member of the Watch, Daniel was insistent on her acting like one. It had made sense and Peter didn’t think anything of it when it was said, but now, hearing the way he phrased it, his stomach flipped.

Using the word ‘both’ specifically excluded Daniel from sharing the goal of keeping Melanie in the regiment. Peter grimaced, he hadn’t taken the time yet to sit down with Daniel and have this conversation directly and privately, and now with how far everything had already progressed there may not even be a point to do so anymore.

The General crossed her arms and continued her flat stare, her voice low. “You treat ‘everyone else here’ like that?”

Daniel’s face flashed red as his calm facade shattered, the man shooting her a livid glare. “I--”

“I’ve never seen it if it you have, and you should count your lucky stars for that,” Ais’lyn continued sharply, standing from the chair and looming over him from across the desk. “To imply this treatment is somehow Regiment Protocol is unbearable, Captain, and I--”

“Her behaviour is not ‘Regiment Protocol’ and we have until tomorrow to get her to look and act as much like she belongs here as possible!” Grant shouted, jumping to his feet as an arm swung to take his hat off and throw it on the desk between them. Martellis leapt to standing, his eyes wide as he legitimately worried that there might be a brawl. “Tell me a faster way!” The Captain shouted at the General again, his arms swinging wide in challenge. “Tell me a faster way to get her how you need her to behave for your plans.”

The vitriol in his voice filled the room like a poisonous gas and Martellis stuck an arm out across the desk before Ais’lyn could leap over it and start knocking out the Captain’s teeth. 

“Captain, General,” Peter said sharply, stepping even closer to Daniel on their side of the desk if for no other reason than to give himself a better position to throw himself in the middle if the two decided to come to blows. “This conversation is quickly becoming unproductive and should you both feel need to continue at this level, I will be asking we dismiss this until things have calmed significantly.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Daniel’s response was likely the fastest he had ever deferred to Peter’s rank, the man’s eyes dropping uncharacteristically quickly to the table as his breathing tried to get back under control. 

“My sincerest apologies, Commander,” Ais’yn offered tensely, though already the Commander could see the fire in her eyes settling just a little, while her posture remained rigid.

Peter sighed, looking between them both as he lowered his arm slowly. “General Ais’lyn,” he began, turning to address her directly. “I first want to express my extreme appreciation for your help during this situation thus far, and I do hope that it will continue to the best we are all able to accommodate it, particularly in the near future.”

Ais’lyn’s emerald eyes locked with Peter’s dark brown, inclining her head respectfully, a look of acceptance already washing over her features as she allowed him to continue speaking.

“In this moment, however, I have to ask that my authority as active Commander of the Eastern Coastal Watch be given its due respect. Your position, as always, is secure and acknowledged, but as your other duties and titles will pull you away, I am the constant here.”

The dark brown eyes of Peter Martellis locked with a confidence he rarely showed openly, his stance strong. Ais’lyn nodded, her mouth opening swiftly.

“Commander Martellis,” she addressed him respectfully, fixing her own posture with a click of her heels behind the desk, “you are absolutely right. This is your branch, and has been, and you have capable control. Please accept my apologies if my eagerness to reinsert myself into the ranks has caused you undue stress.”

A deep, almost hissing inhale entered her nose. “You are also,” she added, the faintest hint of shamefulness in her tone hidden behind her composed presence, “absolutely correct that my other duties and titles will be pulling me away. While my husband will be here tomorrow, I unfortunately will have duties of my own as Duchess with which to attend.”

 Peter’s eyebrows raised curiously. “I was unaware, ma’am, but I understand.”

“I was hoping to have the conversation with you sooner rather than later to see if any arrangements could be made, should you wish it, but between Thorne and… well,” she trailed off, her posture relaxing as she darted her gaze elsewhere in the room, not wanting to draw direct attention back to the present situation, “I’ve had my hands quite full with other things.”

A quiet pause drifted through the room; not tense, but far from comfortable. The General’s voice spoke again, calmer this time. “Captain Grant,” she began, her eyes dropping to his hat on the desk between them while she folded her hands behind her back. “I want to acknowledge your efforts in attempting to maintain protocol and decorum in the face of everything happening, first and foremost.”

The Captain’s eyes raised, his blonde eyebrows knitting slightly as he waited for the next remark, scolding-- whatever was about to happen.

“I personally, strongly maintain, however, that protocol will require change in the face of everything that is happening here, and I still am strongly against the continued aggravation of Melanie under the guise of establishing her as a soldier.”

There it was. The Captain tried to contain his frown as his eyes stared well beyond the closed shutters of the windows, taking a steeling breath. “General Ais’lyn,” he returned politely, “I will continue to impress on yourself, the Commander, and anyone else who would need to hear it that my goal is not to ‘aggravate’ her, but to correct her. Her reaction to being corrected is, unfortunately, beyond my control.”

The two began to stare intensely again at one another and the Commander cleared his throat to interject swiftly. “I believe that at this moment, the two of you will have to agree to disagree on a number of things. I’ll be taking the rest of the day to consider adjustments to our strategy,” he said, instantly reducing the tension. “Do either of you have anything you’d like to discuss with me or inform me of before I consider this issue resolved-- at least for the moment-- and dismiss?” He added curiously, looking between them both.

“I’ll need to speak with a member or two of the Watch who are familiar with the immediate area, so I can attempt to plan at least some variety of reprieve for Melanie tomorrow should we all agree it be useful.” The General rolled her shoulders back, stretching her neck slightly as she gathered herself and began to step out from behind the desk. “Keep her out of everyone’s hair, and give her a break from whatever my husband may be stirring up for at least an hour or two in the middle of the day.”

“That would remove some concern from me, genuinely,” Martellis breathed, stepping back and gesturing toward the door politely with a hand as Ais’lyn moved toward it. “Lieutenants Chase and Jones are seasoned patrolmen for the area, and Private March’s family live very closeby.”

“I would also be willing,” the General added pointedly, “to be escort this evening for Melanie and her team’s return to the Training Grounds after everyone has eaten. As I’ll not be a General for a few days, I may as well perform one last duty before I head home for the evening, and I feel it would be worth it to provide you both the freedom to attend to any matters you may have at the Barracks or at home, given this weekend has turned out to be quite a wash.”

“I’ll consider the logistics with my current plan, General, and we’ll speak again before the dinner call,” the Commander assured her as he held the door. Ais’lyn left with a quick flash of a genuine smile, a brief twitch of her eyes that looked, in the moment, like guilt. Daniel was just heading for the door himself when Peter simply closed it, pretending he didn’t see him.

“...My sincerest apologies for the stress I’ve--” Daniel started quietly as the silence in the room rang.

“Don’t,” Peter breathed before releasing an extremely heavy sigh, turning to gesture Daniel back into a chair. “I know you don’t mean it, Daniel, it’s just… a very tough situation, for everyone, right now.”

Grant’s hand moved to pat Martellis’ shoulder comfortingly as they passed each other again to sit themselves back down, both of them exhausted. 

“I do, legitimately, appreciate your strategy,” Peter continued before stalling hard on what he was trying to say. “I…”

Daniel cut in with a quiet sigh as Peter started his awkward thinking-hums. “I’ll admit my… insistence on her transporting her--” he grimaced, repressing a shudder at the wording, “pocket book, was perhaps a bit much given the still-early nature of this entire ordeal.”

The Commander’s hat landed on the desk and slid toward Daniel in the aftermath of Peter’s gentle tossing of it. Daniel removed his hat again in response, plopping it down on top of the slightly taller-banded hat with its rank badge sparkling. “Honestly when she offered to let you inspect her pockets I thought the day was going to be over,” Peter huffed, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to shoot her, Peter,” Daniel uttered darkly. “You’ve already made it clear that would be against your wishes.”

“Daniel,” Peter coaxed tiredly, their eyes meeting.

“...Well I wasn’t going to shoot her for that,” the Captain admitted in concession, an awkward quiet passing between the two men before they both started to chuckle. Daniel shook his head after a moment, adding, “though if she had tried to grab me, I--”

“I wouldn’t have expected less from you, honestly,” Peter interrupted. “I know how you feel about it, but I’ve been assured by Henry a number of times now that that’s not something she’s liable to do outside of dire emergency, and he even has worries whether or not she’d be able to if that was something we’d need her to perform, at this juncture.”

“Ah, yes,” a groan escaped Daniel as he allowed himself to collapse back into the chair with every ounce of irritation plainly weighing him down. “Lemuels seems to believe he has her under control, and yet Lord Hargreaves still got laid out quite--”

“Of all the men I’d expect to sound like they were complaining about that incident…”

Daniel flinched at the remark. “I did derive some enjoyment from it, you know me, but my point still stands. I’ll be taking Lemuels’ ‘assurances’ about her with several grains of salt while she’s under our charge.”

Peter crossed his arms, leaning back to examine his lap in uncomfortable thought as he chewed on a question a little too long. The blonde man across the table watched him curiously, wondering if he was going to be lectured about his and Lemuels’ attitudes toward each other next.

“...You’re alright with her being under our charge, then?”

The Commander grit his teeth; he had no idea how to have this conversation now, with his oldest friend, his closest companion. He had never had to break through a wall of awkwardness and distance like this with Daniel before, and he was sure it showed. There were a million better ways to have worded his question to be what he really wanted to ask, ‘are you upset at me for the tone I’ve had to take?’, ‘are you resentful of my approach to this situation?’, ‘do you feel I’m doing this all wrong?’, and instead the best he could do was… this.

His eyes remained on his lap, waiting to hear the hesitant reply from Daniel; his drawling, delicate response of disagreement coupled with concession that at the end of the day, Peter was the Commander. He knew this pattern; he knew this ritual. He could trust Daniel to be honest with him, to a degree, but part of that honesty was Daniel’s unwavering respect for Peter’s authority, and the Commander-- despite his pride in his rank, despite his efforts to get here-- hated that he felt that it got in the way of earnest and truthful conversation with his Second-In-Command. 

He heard the tell-tale sound of air rushing into Daniel’s nose, the faint whistle from one of his nostrils that preceded the leveled, well-thought response he was waiting for. Peter raised his eyes…

…to the blotchy, enraged expression of Daniel Grant.

“I do not care what she has said to you.”

Peter blinked, staring, his mouth falling open in complete shock.

“I am not going anywhere.”

The Commander’s brain had completely shut off all of its useful parts, leaving him mute, statuesque as whatever was happening continued to happen in front of him.

“If you want this situation to be here, to remain in our control, then she’s staying here.”

Daniel stood swiftly, snatching his hat back from the desk and fixing it to his head furiously as he continued to speak, Peter unable to tell if he had the capacity to even will himself to blink in this moment.

“Where you go, I go,” he stated with a room-shaking confidence and timber that Peter had not heard in years. His mouth opened to argue again when a strange noise from beyond the windows, somewhere just below their office, drifted in and caused both men to whip around to stare at the closed shutters.

“Afternoon, Kendrick…”

Melanie’s voice had that strange rasp to it, and it seemed to buzz the hinges from how close a place it was coming from. Both Peter and Daniel locked eyes again as the faint conversation continued somewhere down the wall, out of view from their covered window.

The Captain’s arm shot out to point, aggressively, toward the general source of the sound as his icy blue eyes seemed to spark and crackle. “Where you go,” he said slowly, strongly, “I go.”

Captain Daniel Grant snapped to the most fluid, perfect salute of his life, the Commander’s military instincts kicking in and moving him to stand and salute back automatically. 

“Should you have need of me, you know where I’ll be,” the blonde man said, turning and heading toward the door at a march. He turned with the door held open, nodding toward Peter back at the desk. “Commander.”

Martellis shook his head as the door closed, his brain offering him only one, singular thought; one question, in the wake of what had just occurred. 

‘Who said what to me?’

In the hall, Daniel fought the urge to roll up his sleeves as he stormed to his quarters. If he wound up with any further reason to believe that the General was trying to push him out, he would absolutely cause an incident.

Chapter Text

 “Smells like the ocean,” the giant woman stated as she rolled out another piece of her gear; the overhang and rain-cover for her tent. “Otherwise, nothing… serious, in terms of damage. No mildew yet, but if the sun will be out tomorrow I can set it up and let it dry.”

 “That’s good,” Henry called out, feeling significantly more relaxed seeing how at ease she was with her mind on a practical task and removed from the denser crowd of the Barracks grounds.

 “What’s the last item?” Ais’lyn shouted from alongside Henry, the two of them sitting on a makeshift bench Melanie had done up for them out of the wreckage scraps. They were on top of the cliff-like outcropping alongside the back gate to the grounds, Melanie standing roughly low enough in the field that her waist was about level to them if she was to approach, the slope of the field bringing her lower the farther she got.

 “Um,” Melanie hummed casually in thought, tipping her head from side to side and making Henry smile to himself. “I believe you’d call it a parasol, and we’ll… we’ll get to that in a minute.”

 “I think you’ll be fine to open it,” the small sailor called to her as she hopped over a corner of the tent she had laid out and tugged it flatter. Ais’lyn made a soft noise of surprise beside him as the tremor of her hop made it back up to them.

 “I’d rather it be something I only have to demonstrate once, and can give everyone fair enough warning beforehand,” Melanie replied.

 “What do you need to warn people about?” The General asked, crossing her legs as she turned to make sure Theresa was still taking notes.

 “The sound and the… motion, of it. It’s a bit of a dramatic device,” the large woman grumbled awkwardly, surveying the tent, overhang, the bags that the poles and spikes had come in, her backpack and the boat cushions. She walked her way back to the small cliff and reached for the item in question, the General very interested in it.

“It does seem extremely small, in comparison to your size, for something we would call a parasol, here,” the red-haired woman admitted.

“It… expands. The first time she used one around me she had warned me extensively and I still wasn’t ready for it,” Henry explained, bending forward to stretch his hip slowly, massaging around his leg one-handed with a frown. “She’s not wrong to want to wait until at least the Captain and Commander are here.”

Wells, Francine, Peters and Kendrick were watching from atop the wall behind him and Ais’lyn, chatting occasionally with members of the walltop patrol or possible rubber-neckers off duty for the weekend who were coming to take a peek. After finding the General with the help of Kendrick, Henry had briefly spied a very determined Daniel on their way to request permission from Peter for Melanie to better inspect some of her things in the field. The Barracks, despite not being half the population it used to be, felt as active and crowded as it ever had from Henry’s perspective.

There had been some… concerns, noted, that the field was more open to view from anyone who may be traveling past the Barracks, but as Ais’lyn had argued: the cat was already proverbially out of the bag about the giant woman under the Watch’s care, so desensitizing the citizenry with the guts to come near enough to see her wouldn’t be too terrible an idea.

“You handled it very well, all things considered,” Melanie chimed in about the umbrella and her memory of showing it to Henry as she removed the contraption from its bag and undid the velcro strap, shaking the fabric out lightly before moving to place it among her things. “The winds are too high and unpredictable at home to usually bother with any kind of parasol; they’re kind of a joke among the locals that if you see anyone trying to use one, it’s either a costume or they’re foreigners.”

Her movements around the field were wonderfully freeing to her, everyone safely away back on the wall or up on the cliff ledge. She tried not to think about the amount of wildlife she had already disturbed with her movements as she paused a moment to take in the wide, rolling green field she was in. She was still reserved, still calculated, her eyes still on her feet regularly to make absolutely sure, but the stress of being inside the walls with so many people around-- even with them keeping their distance-- had been a lot.

“I’ll confirm with the Commander before we’re finished here for the day,” Ais’lyn began, getting the large woman’s attention once more, “that we’ll be free to have a little get together after lunch tomorrow, just you and I.”

“I’d like that,” the giant woman sighed, her eyes moving to her feet again as she headed back to sit beside the cliff and make the chatting easier on everyone. “You said there’s a pond nearby…?”

“Yes, relatively secluded, though not as isolated as the other; I wouldn’t recommend it for bathing, but it’s covered by trees along most of its shoreline and there’s a very secluded area on one end that Private March was telling me about.”

Melanie sat with her back against the cliff, Ais’lyn making another noise of interest at the light tremors involved as she rested against the strangely smooth stone. Henry smirked as he watched the top of her head, several feet below the edge as it turned idly. “Seclusion is an inviting word today, ma’am, I won’t lie.”

“I can only imagine, my dear,” the General replied sympathetically. “Did attitudes improve at all in my absence or should I--”

“No need,” Melanie and Henry both interrupted her, not quite in sync but still close enough that the red-haired woman laughed brightly. The giant woman’s voice drifted up to the both of them, sounding lighter. “I think I’m just still not used to the crowding, ma’am. I’ll be better tomorrow, it was just… a big adjustment today.”

“You handled it very well, all things considered,” Henry echoed her earlier sentiment and comfort, and though he couldn’t see her face he could tell from the motion of her hand coming up to rest the back of a loose fist at the top of the cliff that she was smiling. He reached his better leg out, tapping it lightly in acknowledgement and it recoiled back to below his line of sight. “Once dinner call is over we’ll be heading back and you can rest.”

“For some reason I thought we’d be heading back before dinner call,” Melanie admitted idly, “but then I remembered that we left the place empty. It’d be cruel to have poor Fuller trek all the way back just to have to set up and work the kitchen again.”

“Members of the Watch have been trained to handle those kinds of situations in the event they’re needed,” the General’s voice came with a faint tone of correction.

The massive woman leaned forward with a quiet grunt that still almost echoed off of the rockwall behind her, bracing her weight on a hand as she turned her head and shoulders enough to lock eyes with Ais’lyn from her position about a giant’s-foot below, her expression guilty.

“...If we could avoid them needing to do anything like that for me, though…” she drawled in a hushed whine, grimacing as the General laughed and Henry shot her a skeptical-- but still amused-- look.

“Yes, yes, dear,” Ais’lyn soothed her with a dismissive wave, Melanie moving to lean back against the wall under them as she listened. “I have your request at heart always, as much as I’m able to accommodate. Speaking of which, the team you’ll be heading back to the Training Grounds with… that should be close to finalized now, at least for core.”

Henry’s eyebrows jumped up so fast they had an honest risk of leaving his face behind. “The team has already been--?”

“You spoke to everyone?” Melanie’s eager voice shot back and she spun around again.

“I was indisposed for most of the day due to Officer-ranked matters, but Theresa was able to reach out to everyone on my list that I wasn’t able to speak with myself. The ones that were willing to accept are returning with you this evening.” Ais’lyn’s face fell slightly to a more serious expression as Melanie’s brightened, and she moved to quickly temper the expectations of the giant woman. “This was my list, and while yes-- your input was heavily considered, there were considerations that had to be made between myself and the Commander as well.”

“I understand, so long as they said yes that’s all that matters,” she offered in a relieved whisper. “I still feel guilty about ruining their weekend, but at least they were given something of a choice.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Henry corrected her firmly, “they’ll be well compensated in pay or future time off, and the ones I’ve been speaking with certainly don’t seem upset by the fact that a shipwreck of this magnitude gave them a day or two of overtime.”

Ais’lyn chuckled as Melanie rolled her eyes. “Miller didn’t get Friday Ales and that’s apparently extremely important,” she retorted. 

“He’ll be happy to know,” Ais’lyn chimed in as she stood and started to stretch her legs, wandering closer to the edge, “the Commander approved his request and materials for fire pits are being brought back to the Training Grounds with us.”

The giant woman’s laugh rang over the field as she covered her mouth with a hand. “Really? He actually got the request in?” The General cocked her head curiously between Melanie and Henry, who were both actively chuckling. “I’ll have to congratulate him later, I didn’t think he had a single moment to sit down with pen and paper at any point since he mentioned it last night.”

“Well, I have no idea,” the General admitted with a shrug, “all I was made aware of is that something was submitted, and that it was approved.”

“The only real question remaining being if there are going to be ales going back with us, I would posit,” Henry chuckled, turning to kick his leg up onto the bench to let it lie straight. “Either way, of all the members I’d have fear of not wanting anything to do with us, Miller is nowhere near that list.”

There was a brief, contented pause as the three relaxed in the gentle breeze under the gray sky, the sounds of the barracks drifting to them through the wide open gates of the wall. It wasn’t very long before a call of “Corporal on approach” reached them from Wells, Melanie waving a hand over her head in acknowledgement before making the move to stand up, saluting Lionus as he approached with Devon in tow.

Melanie bit her tongue, feeling extremely awkward about how she had snapped at Devon earlier. Typically she’d just barb him about it again, but she had been in a bad enough mood when it happened that she was sure she may have actually insulted him, if not downright frightened him by it.

“Your form is on point!” Lionus laughed up to her as they walked over to join the General and Henry near the make-shift seating at the ledge, both Lionus and Devon’s eyes dropping instantly and in fixation to the large, prominent spread of her things across the field.

“Thank you, Lionus, sir,” she replied with a grin, cocking her head as if taking an imaginary blow as he gave an aggressively dismissive wave at the ‘sir’.

“How’s everything feeling now that you’re up and stretching? Was the commute rough on you at all?” The Corporal asked, taking off his hat and running a hand through his wavy brown hair as he continued to approach the ledge next to the General.

“Physically, no,” the giant woman offered, shifting her weight as she looked down at her legs, frowning. “Emotionally, yes, but you aren’t that kind of Doctor I assume.”

“Mind yourself,” Henry called warningly.

“It wasn’t a secret she was a bit upset,” Devon’s voice muttered awkwardly from behind the sailor, causing Henry to turn to him with a concerned expression. The Lance Corporal waited for Melanie and Lionus to be engaged in discussions about her injuries, General Ais’lyn observing with interest from alongside, before speaking in hushed tones to the seated man. “The Corporal and I…” he trailed off oddly before shaking his head and correcting himself. “Mostly myself, I’ll admit, wanted to be sure what I said wasn’t over the line to the point of something dire.”

Henry scoffed in reflex, rolling his eyes briefly as he glanced back at the giant woman and her ridiculous smile while she bantered with Lionus, showing off her balance as she seemed to shift onto one foot below where he could see. “She was upset, yes,” the long-haired man admitted with a shrug, “and she can react to stress and emotions of similar nature a bit strongly. I can almost guarantee she didn’t mean to come off as agitated as she did.”

He turned to move his blue green eyes to Devon’s dark, dark brown, the medic staring at the woman nervously. “...Should I apologize?” Devon asked, his tone flat, as if he knew the answer.

“Lord no,” Henry sighed bluntly, causing the Lance Corporal to blink in surprise, shaking his head faintly. “If you apologize to her she’ll feel she overstepped, and then you’ll both wind up trapped in a hellish apology-loop of some kind. Trust me, don’t.”

Devon raised one of his thick eyebrows with an amused smile, inclining his head toward the other man. “Experience?”

“Days logged, my friend,” Henry sighed out a soft laugh with a slow shake of his head. “Make a crack at her again if you get the chance, she’ll appreciate more knowing that you didn’t take it to heart than that you feel bad about it.”

“I’ll take that as you giving me permission, then,” he replied with a faint nod, the sailor letting out a noise of protest.

“You break decorum at your own risk,” Henry said sharply, Devon’s face flashing a devilish smirk for just a moment. “I’m only advising you on her, specifically, and I make no promises you’ll like her response; only that it won’t be as severe as earlier.”

“Tone of it aside,” the medic admitted quietly after a moment, “it was a good one. Don’t ever tell her I said that.”

“You have my word,” the sailor replied with a smile as they turned to watch her once again.

 A small hand slapped the side of a massive boot in excitement as the bold voice of Commander Martellis read names one after the other off of a list in his hand. Captain Grant stood beside him, his face even more serious than usual, while Lieutenant General Ais’lyn was overseeing the horses being readied at the stable, and for the sake of convenience they had gathered most of the active and present Watch members at the fire pits and stage in the center of the grounds. 

 Melanie was trying to fight to keep a more neutral face as Miller’s slap made her smile, the woman rolling her ankle just enough to nudge him with her calf in acknowledgement as they and a handful of others who knew her well enough stood back at the base of the mound. As the names passed by-- Miller, Jones, Peters, Hicks, Bartlett, Fuller, Wells, Chase, Harper…-- the source of the Second Lieutenant’s excitement was clear: The Idiot Brigade was becoming official.

 More names kept getting called, those listed giving sharp salutes and some of them who weren’t already idling near her feet heading in her direction almost instinctively. Jarvis, Moores-- Penelope, the giant woman remembered as the small woman saluted the Commander--, Kendrick, Francine Wright, Cassandra Griebes, and Devon joined the members named, along with two others she had yet to meet: Kayla Reese and Madeline Coombs. She recognized the two Noble Guard members from her first encounter with the Duchess, but hadn’t had time to speak with them.

 “Until orders change, those who have been called will be predominantly stationed at the Training Grounds under direct command from myself and Captain Grant, still.” The Commander gazed out over the gathered crowd of Watch members and felt partially impressed and partially upset; most of the ones who were technically on inactive duty for the weekend would normally be into the towns or would have traveled home for the two days, but had chosen this weekend to spend time on base. Whether out of a sense of duty, or whether just purely out of curiosity, he didn’t know nor did he necessarily care. He would take advantage of it all the same. “Those remaining here are requested to remain on-grounds for the duration of tomorrow as we will be expecting the Duke of Verdandi and possibly several other members of the Nobility and Gentry to discuss operations of The Eastern Coastal Watch during this time.”

 “Over the next several days, possibly weeks,” he continued strongly, “we will be seeing more activity at this facility and a shift in our structure. This is inevitable, and something this branch of His Majesty’s Service has been made intimately familiar with throughout its history.”

 Peter Martellis ignored as best as he could the soft murmurs from the outskirts of the gathered crowd, and the vague shifting of the massive, towering woman the murmurs were more than likely about. He turned, nodding to Captain Daniel Grant beside him and taking a step back as the man stepped forward.

 Grant’s sharp voice cut all other noise out of the surrounding area. “Protocol continues as per the norm. In the absence of myself and the Commander, you are to adhere to the orders of your squad and platoon leaders. First Lieutenants should be deferred to in lack of your squad or platoon leader’s presence.” He cleared his throat and looked around, his icy blue eyes scanning across the faces and a single pair of gigantic knees in the crowd before him, his jaw clenching tightly for a moment. “If you find yourselves in a situation with no clear direction, with no known course of action, rely on what you know; rely on what you have been trained to do. Do what you have always done.”

 A clear, quiet pause came over the area, even those on patrol on the walls seeming to understand what was happening at the center of the Barracks grounds. The Commander stepped forward again to stand directly alongside the Captain as he gave a loud, abrupt call.

 “We are!” Commander Martellis shouted.

 “The East Watch!” The entire company roared back almost simultaneously, Melanie blinking at the sound but snapping into a proper salute along with everyone else despite not joining the response. She’d know now for next time.

 “Dismissed,” the Commander called after the salutes had finished, looking to note that even the men on the wall patrols had joined and smiling faintly at the sight. The crowd immediately began to disperse, most notably in all of the directions that took them the farthest away from the giant woman as she shifted weight as minimally as possibly, watching near her feet until space was clear enough for her to slowly kneel down.

 Miller was beaming a grin she swore could’ve been seen from space, excitedly greeting all of the members coming to join them at their area near the bottom of the mound. Jones was following him vaguely, seemingly on watch to keep him in check should he become too excited, but was also baring a wide grin of his own. Henry turned to the giant woman and smirked at her, holding a hand for her to wait as she gestured for a carry to him.

 “Ma’am!” Kendrick called happily, jogging over from the medic’s place at the farthest point of the mound from her, Devon slowly also making his way farther back behind the freckle faced boy. “Happy to be in the brigade!”

 Melanie grinned as Henry audibly groaned, the small man in blue asking bluntly. “Does everyone already know the name?”

 Miller wheeled on him, hushing him aggressively. “Not everyone, and not the brass, sir! Mind yourself now before my promotion gets put in jeopardy.”

 “You’re not getting promoted, Ed--” Jones began with a loud sigh, a number of the members around chuckling before Miller turned to Jones with a frown.

 “You don’t know that,” he stated plainly. “Future’s a mystery.”

 Chase stretched his arms over his head on his approach, flashing a grin to the crowd and nodding up at Melanie quickly. “I was really enjoying the Training Grounds, honestly. Quieter there, for one thing. Glad to be sticking around there.”

 “You just like the lack of stairs,” Bartlett quipped at him. “I don’t know how you keep gettin’ out of wall patrols, but--”

 “Hey!” He retorted defensively, jabbing a finger at Bartlett with a smirk as a number of the members jeered and laughed. “Not true, and if it was you’d know to keep your mouth shut about it.”

 “Twenty minutes until we depart!” The General’s sharp voice cut through the laughter, causing everyone to turn and watch her marching back from the stables. “If there’s anything anyone needs to gather from the Barracks building, now is the time. Go.”

 Several members of the team saluted and scattered off quickly to go pack their things, Henry saluting with his good arm and walking toward Ais’lyn while he inclined his head respectfully. “What’s the likelihood of me getting a fresh uniform for tomorrow, ma’am?”

 “Low,” she replied with a frown. “Fresh shirt and skivvies, best I can guarantee for tonight. Tomorrow I can see what Thorne has access to and perhaps get you more.”

 “I’d be fine with a uniform of The Watch--” Henry began, his eyes closing for a few seconds too long as he accepted the fate of being interrupted.

 “For the sake of clarity in this situation, I’d prefer to keep you in something that stands out more than blends in for the time being, Mr. Lemuels,” she offered him sharply, though adjusting herself with a slight look of sympathy as he reopened his eyes. “I understand it’s not ideal, but for now… making things visible means less talking is necessary, and you’ll need to be doing a lot of it.”

 “I legitimately appreciate the concern,” he replied, taking a slow breath in through his nose. “I didn’t think of it from that angle, ma’am.”

 “Is there anything you need to have gathered from the Barracks for you other than the uniform, in the meantime, Henry?” Ais’lyn asked, looking at him pointedly. His mouth was opening to give a polite ‘no’ when the familiar soft rasp of a giant voice trying to be less noticeable jumped in over him.

 “None of his items were with my things in the collection of wreckage,” she said quickly, as quietly as she could manage, both of them turning around to look at her-- along with several other members close by and some of the nosier ones beyond. “Any chance they were collected and stored elsewhere?”

 Ais’lyn’s brow knit instantly, the rest of her face becoming a mostly neutral, unreadable slate. Those bright green eyes moved to Henry’s shining blue-green irises and were sparkling as thoughts seemed to bounce around her head. “Commander,” she called loudly, not breaking eye contact with Henry.

 “Yes, General?” Martellis’ voice called back, the man marching with purpose from the stage at the top of the mound where Grant was still chatting with a handful of members.

 “Mr. Lemuels’ effects,” she continued, her chin raising as she seemed to give Henry a very long look-over. “Do you know where they’ve been stored?”

 “His clothing and weaponry that we removed since he was taken to the medical wing,” Peter said after having thought on the question as he closed the gap, “should’ve been moved to be stored either in the Staff Sergeant’s lock-room, or placed in an Officer’s quarters specifically held for him.” The dark black eyebrows raised as he looked between Henry and Ais’lyn who were still locking eyes with one another, Henry’s face more open with its curious and puzzled expression. “Why do you ask, General?”

 “If anything of his had been hauled out of the surf, do you believe it would be there as well?”

 Melanie’s eyes danced between the three faces, watching for reactions. Commander Martellis seemed to freeze for several seconds, as if the question had been so strange that he needed a moment to make sure it wasn’t a threat. “...No,” he answered after a moment, turning to look toward the Barrack’s building. “There’s a holding area for confiscated and illegal items, near the cells.”

 The giant woman’s brow furrowed; at no point on the tour were ‘cells’ mentioned, but she remembered Miller explaining something at the beginning of their walk along the wall that they wouldn’t be seeing the space behind the Barracks’ main facility to avoid patrols. She followed the Commander’s gaze as the crowd below her continued speaking.

 “If possible…” Ais’lyn said, finally turning toward Martellis before the Commander cut her off with the politeness of rank.

 “I’ll have it looked into, General.” His voice was calm but stern, agreeable in a way. “Should anything be amiss the reports will be refreshed as of your husband’s return home tomorrow.”

 “Thank you, Commander,” the General replied. “I’ll continue the preparations for the Training Ground squads’ return trip. Patrols were already set out to begin clearing the way.”

 “At your leisure, General.”

 The two saluted each other swiftly, Ais’lyn offering a faint smile before turning on her heel and marching back toward the stables. Henry, Melanie and the Commander watched her go for a moment before Peter’s release of a heavy breath caught the other two’s attention once again.

 His shoulders were sagging slightly, looking both exhausted and more relaxed as he turned back to address Henry after sending a tired smile up to the large woman looming beside them. “First Lieutenant Wells has already been fully briefed and is bringing a number of the other members up to date on the orders at hand, but I’ll give you both the information directly. I’ll be staying at the Barracks tonight, Captain Grant is returning to his family home for a night of leave, and while General Ais’lyn will be making the return trip with all of you she’ll then be leaving to resume her duties as Duchess for the next several days.”

 Melanie nodded, she had known about Ais’lyn’s return to Noble duties already; the General had explained it to her as she was laying out her waterlogged gear and when she was packing it all back up again. She hadn’t realized that meant that they would be out of top-officer supervision for the entire night.

 “First Lieutenant Wells will be directing in our combined absences,” Martellis continued. “You’ll be marching here after the breakfast calls are finished, we’ll have patrols going as early as second horns. I would love,” he stressed, a soft sigh escaping him and the giant woman’s smirk at the sound going beyond his notice above, “to tell you that you would make it here before the Duke, but he and the General have already demonstrated their ability to be very functional, very early.”

 Melanie chuckled lightly, getting his attention as she softly chimed in. “They very much have.” Her body swayed slightly as she carefully braced herself with her hand on the grass and adjusted her position for comfort before she continued, frowning slightly. “I’ll be fine on the trip tomorrow, I feel, Commander. Thank you for letting us know the plan ahead of time,” she said, smiling. “It helps significantly.”

 “Yes, thank you, Commander,” Henry replied properly, causing Peter’s eyebrows to shoot up until he remembered he hadn’t removed his officer’s hat. “Praying for things to go as smoothly as possible tomorrow.”

 Peter smiled, reaching up to remove his hat now that he had been reminded. “As am I, Henry. I apologize for not being able to oversee the items and everything earlier with you both, but the measurements that Lionus and Devon were able to retrieve of her tent will be very useful.”

 “Sorry you’ve been through so much of a ringer today, Peter,” Henry offered quietly, the giant woman offering a quick nod that made Peter feel a bit uncomfortable; he shouldn’t be giving off an impression to anyone that he was in need of apologies or concern to this degree.

 “Nothing more than duty,” he said clearly, forcing a smile that seemed to get his point across as Henry nodded with a knowing expression. “Appreciate the sentiment,” he added awkwardly, quietly.

 He dismissed them both politely before turning to meet back up with Captain Grant at the top of the mound, both men marching off back toward the main gate after a few short words, leaving Melanie and the newly assigned squads to start collecting under Wells’ direction.

 The silence between the Commander and the Captain was less tense than Peter would’ve expected, but even with Daniel’s somewhat calmer demeanor than earlier it was far from anything he would describe as comfortable, or even truly stable. They went through the familiar motions of overseeing a riding group ready-up, smoothly, amicably. As the horses and riders began to mount up and find positions, Grant gathered the reins of his own horse and used the steed to block view of him from the Duchess-- or vice versa, and speak quietly to the Commander.

 “I’ll be back just after first light tomorrow,” he began quickly, his light blue eyes on the activity of some of the distant members. “Should the Duke arrive before--”

 “Stay for breakfast.”

 Daniel blinked, seeming offended for a moment before the Commander’s hand landed on his shoulder. The dark brown eyes of Peter Martellis locked with Daniel Grant, and the sharp point of the command lessened into something more comforting, more friendly, but still leaving no room to argue.

 “I’ll handle whatever should happen tomorrow morning,” the Commander continued. “Stay for breakfast. You haven’t been home in almost a week and I know you haven’t sent any letters, stay and spend some time in the quiet and the calm for a moment, to assuage both of your concerns.”

 A faint smile dared to crack across Daniel’s face before he almost aggressively adjusted himself, rolling his eyes and forcing a look of mild aggravation instead. “There will be no lessening of my protective Mother Bear’s concerns, I’m sure. If I get any sleep at all tonight it will be because I managed to escape the constant suggestions and questions regarding my safety.”

 Peter couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking his head with a skeptical expression. “I’ve known Mary nearly as long as you, and the fact you constantly speak of her like she’s seconds from permanently swaddling you and never letting you leave is, in all honesty, one of my favorite jokes, but I’m beginning to wonder if you haven’t legitimately convinced yourself it’s true.”

 “You’ve known her,” Daniel cut back defensively, turning to triple-check the saddle straps and stirrup heights again, “you’ve never lived with her.”

 “No, but that invitation has come up a number of times,” Peter retorted with a smirk. “She’s quite fond of me, if the amount of bread and muffins I’ve gotten is any indication.” His eyes glazed over as he was hit with a wave of fond memories. “The dinners and lunches we all shared have always been tempting, I won’t lie.”

 “She hates the idea of you living alone either at the Barracks or in that bare estate you refuse to set foot in,” the Captain’s sharp voice slipped out for a moment, correcting the sentiment. He bit his tongue on the offer of the spare bedroom he knows has been set up and saved for Peter for years, shaking his head to clear the thought; today wasn’t the day to dredge that back up. “It’s Saturday,” he stated, his voice softening with the nearly inane statement as Peter nodded behind him. “She’ll be baking. I’ll bring a loaf for you tomorrow, she’ll insist.”

 “I always do appreciate it,” Peter’s voice returned, softly and genuinely. His exhaustion was eking through again, and Daniel turned back to him with a gentle look of concern that was so rare it took Peter a moment to realize he wasn’t imagining it.

 “I’ll give her your regards, as always,” the Captain said, warmly, before clearing his throat and nodding. The two men snapped into fluid salutes before Grant kicked himself up into the stirrups, holding the horse steady as he settled in. 

“Will you be waiting for the Training Grounds squads to--”

“Not on your life,” Grant breathed darkly, a tense pause passing before them before he turned with a smirk to Martellis. “I trust your directions to them, and trust in your judgment that they can handle themselves, Commander.”

His voice was clear, stern, confident, but his eyes flashed a moment with something Peter thought could have been resignation. “Ride safe, Captain,” he said, nodding.

“Take care of yourself, sir,” Daniel said before pulling on the reins, turning his horse toward the massive, wide-open gates of the Barracks and spurred it into a casual trot through the crowd and working members. Once free of the gates and on his way down the hill, Daniel kicked the mare into a gallop, taking off as he heard the orders being shouted behind him to the other group of travelers. 

Ais’lyn led her procession of Watch and Guard members back toward the logging road with two of her own personal guards, the giant woman in the back seeming notably on-edge about their more relaxed pace compared to the morning, but still miles better in terms of mood now that the day was behind them.

“You’re going to kick poor Harper if you don’t slow down,” Henry chided her softly, seated next to her ear, occasionally swatting clumps of her hair strands away as inland gusts picked them up from the right side of her head and flipped them over to his side. 

“That’s Jarvis,” Melanie replied on a breath, her eyes dropping from their perpetual scan of the hills and further roads for anyone she might inadvertently upset by existing so openly. “Harper’s on the dapple.”

She felt the seven-inch tall man lean off of her shoulder slightly, yanking on the loop just below her ear on the jacket’s popped collar. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said as her hand came up to guard him from falling, the small man pushing it away dismissively. “I’d like to commend you for being much more relaxed on the return trip.”

“But?” She asked leadingly, catching the tension in him as he leaned back against her neck.

“Your head’s on a swivel,” he admitted after a thoughtful pause, obviously debating whether it would be worthwhile to bring it up at all. “It won’t be much longer, we’ll be back in the cover of the trees within the next half hour or so.”

She hummed softly and nodded, her eyes remaining on their patrol of the hills. Henry sighed, adjusting his position to try and reduce the aching in his hips. “Sorry,” she breathed after another pass over the hills.

“You’re worried, I understand,” he said consolingly. “It’ll take some time yet.”

Her head tipped toward him, nudging him slightly in acknowledgement. He heard her mouth open to reply, but the familiar booming voice of Miller came up from behind them, the man taking yet another horse through its paces around her feet. “We’ll have a couple of hours after we get back to the grounds before sundown, ma’am!”

She turned to glance over her shoulder quickly, watching him trot up alongside as she slowed her pace just slightly to match him. Henry made yet another mental note to thank him, and Chase seemed to offer a similar sentiment quietly from his own horse as Edmund rode into range. “That’s good to hear,” the giant woman offered softly with a smile, her eyes darting up quickly to make sure no civilians were around to frighten and then falling back down to Miller.

The broad-chested man was practically bent in half, looking straight up at her with a wild grin. “Any chance you’ve got suggestions on activities for the evening?”

Melanie quirked an eyebrow as she chuckled, Henry letting out an abrupt laugh from her shoulder. “Are you hoping they’d involve ales, by any chance?”

“No ma’am, unless you snuck some off of base-- weren’t given any for the Training Grounds yet,” he laughed, continuing the wide arc in front of her with the horse walking practically sideways. “Just curious!”

Henry’s voice cut in in a quick whisper in her ear, making her grin, “he’s trying to get out of evening duties. Mind you don’t overstep.”

  “If Wells doesn’t have anything in mind, I was thinking lift drills.”

Henry’s form leaned away from her neck to stare at him in surprise, Miller’s eyes going wide in excitement. “You mean--?” he started to ask, excitement building.

“If people want to volunteer, we can at least go over basics and safety,” she said quietly, her eyes lifting to scan the area again and noticing about half a dozen faces from their procession turned curiously to listen. “Only if Wells doesn’t need them, though.”

“That’s something we’ll have to wait until we’re back at the Grounds to see,” Henry said, loud enough to carry to the crowd below.

“Right you are, sir!” Miller called back, the man legitimately giddy. Melanie smiled as she heard him begin to quietly start asking the members nearby if they’d volunteer for lift drills, her eyes continuing to scan the hillsides.

“...Do I seem more relaxed now?” She asked on a breath, smirking as she heard Henry chuckle from next to her ear.

“Yes, yes,” he conceded tiredly, leaning his head back to tap it against her playfully. “I’m very impressed. Now, keep your eyes at least forward enough you aren’t kicking any volunteers, please.”

“Yes sir,” she replied, both of them chuckling as they continued down the road.

Chapter Text

The midday sun sparkled off the small waves of the lake, the bright shine a harsh contrast to the darkness of the water itself. Francine and Penelope were walking ahead, Penelope scanning up and down to make sure there were no problematic branches or trees that would cause issue, and Francine seemingly very intent on scanning the brush on both sides for people, animals, or whatever else someone in her role might be looking for.

Melanie was striding a ways behind them down the dry dirt road, the bottom half of her enjoying what was a comfortably wide path for herself, her upper half occasionally needing to navigate the reaching boughs and branches of the canopy. She had, thus far, upset four birds of different varieties and had dealt with the awkward gesture of swatting at them vaguely like flies until they left her alone.

Despite that particular interruption, she was still much happier to be here than at the Barracks today.

The night and morning at the Training Grounds had gone wonderfully, all said. Without the higher officers around there was a more relaxed atmosphere, everyone finding and sliding into new roles rather quickly. Chase and Wells were wonderful as leads, and took to Command smoothly and without making waves; Fuller was a great coordinator, which didn’t surprise Melanie. Every chef and line cook she had ever met, when needed, could easily get a room full of people in a useful place and at work with a few short calls.

What surprised her the most was how herself and Henry were still being deferred to-- or at least consulted-- regarding their thoughts, opinions and feelings on how this was all working and going down. It was appreciated, highly, but given the last week or so of being ordered and directed, she had completely lost her ability to handle that when it came to things within the Watch. She had chalked it up mostly to an unfamiliarity with the structure and protocol of the military in general, let alone one in this place specifically. 

Henry had done most of the instructing during the lift drills, which were a short exercise near the scaffolding until sunset was imminent, and aside from some minor issues they had ended the day rather positively.

Arriving at the Barracks was where things had taken a turn for the uncomfortable, and it hadn’t been much improvement-- if any-- since then. The walk itself? Fine, lovely. No barking dogs, no screaming women. Truly a wonderful morning walk through very nice countryside. Coming up on the wall of the grounds, Melanie had spotted fairly quickly that there was some kind of activity at the main gates; horses, a large cart, some people among the Watch members manning the area in and around the entrance. It was only when they turned to start up the incline from the main road that her eyes bothered to actually scan the scene ahead of them all.

Commander Martellis, Captain Grant, and Duke William were atop the ramparts, all standing and watching their approach, almost pointedly ignoring what was occurring below them. Just inside the front gates, a large cart pulled by two red mules was being attended by several privates and a lieutenant or two was full of boxes, barrels and baskets of produce and groceries of all manners. The mules were braying, loudly, as the soldiers did their best to hold them down and cover their eyes so they wouldn’t be able to see her approach, and there was a man staring openly at her from beside the cart; evidently not listening to anything being barked at him by the lieutenants.

“Keep moving,” Henry had gently tried to coax her as she came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the road. “They’ll handle it, they’re trained for this.”

“Hm?” Melanie hummed in a tone that didn’t hide her skepticism. The man seated on her shoulder was grunting quietly as he moved to stand, gripping the supports on her coat tightly.

“...They’ll figure it out,” he replied in concession, sighing quietly. “Continue as normal and take whatever direction they offer to you when we get there.”

The scene had only gotten more and more chaotic on their approach, Miller and the founding members of the Idiot Brigade rushing ahead with Wells’ permission to see if they could help clear the area at all. Captain Grant had moved toward the inner parapets of the wall to shout orders down to the knot of men, but the Commander and the Duke still stood, simply watching. 

“Farmer Keely shouldn’t be here with the shipment until tomorrow,” Kendrick’s voice had drifted up with concern, and the name had rang with enough familiarity that she had risked another glance through the awkwardly-short gateway to the man again.

The giant woman’s massive eyes had accidentally locked with the older man’s squinting gaze, and she found herself coming to a halt once again as they stared at each other. Too close to be subtly directed by Henry without the Commander and Duke being aware of it, the moment seemed to stretch forever before the farmer took his hat off and waved it in the same manner he had the day before. 

“Don’t--” Henry had tried to warn her, but it was too late. She had already reactively started to wave back with a smile, and one of the mules who hadn’t been fully blindered yet bucked at the motion. Another wave of chaos erupted beneath the sound of the Captain’s sharp orders, and the giant flinched openly.

“Take a seat over here in the shade, ma’am,” Penelope instructed her, pulling Melanie back to the present now alongside the pond. It was a more secluded shore, trees on all sides save for the single-lane of dirt road and the wide open pond, it’s opposite shore distant enough that even if there were other people to witness her, they weren’t close enough to be heard screaming or shouting or making whatever comments they would’ve liked to make.

“Thank you, Penelope,” she replied quietly, glancing until she found herself a tree with branches tall enough that she could sit under it without having to hunch.

“The Duchess shouldn’t be too long, though she’s arriving by carriage today,” Francine commented as she walked over from her perimeter-inspection of the bushes and undergrowth.

“If she were horseback, she would’ve been here and back by now,” Penelope commented. “Carriages aren’t her preferred method of travel by any means.”

Melanie chuckled, getting comfortable against the tree trunk after cautiously glancing into the branches for any bird nests she might upset. “I can imagine she doesn’t like being a person who has to go at someone else’s pace. It’s fine if she takes longer than normal, I’m happy enough for the break from the staring.”

“I’ll be honest with you, ma’am,” Francine sighed, gesturing toward the giant’s boot with a curious turn of her head, moving to sit near the ankle after Melanie nodded. “I have no idea who that member of the Inland Watch is but he certainly seems in need of a refresher on his manners.”

“Give him a break for today,” the large woman said, shrugging. “Everyone is staring, he’s just more open about it. I also believe he’s a Major? I don’t know where that rank falls, honestly, but he said he was the temporary stand-in for today’s meeting until a Captain arrives tomorrow for the actual council.”

“Don’t believe a word of that,” Penelope warned, getting the giant’s attention and concern quickly.

Francine nodded, shifting her weight a little. “It’s all posturing. I’d say the safe money is on the Captain already being here, but wanting to get an upper hand by receiving first-impressions second-hand from a direct inferior.” 

“God,” Melanie breathed, gazing out over the water idly. “That sounds exhausting. Why go through the trouble? Why not just show up and stare at me in person like everyone else?”

“They’ll arrive tomorrow with the information about how everyone else behaved today, and fully warned on the more pressing impressions of the council so they can make their first-impression as impressive as they can,” the woman on her boot explained, Penelope nodding and laughing. “I was legitimately shocked they were the only one so far who’s attempted it.”

The large woman groaned involuntarily at the thought. More eyes staring at her tomorrow after the barrage of newcomers and still-not-adjusted members today was a wholly unpleasant idea. 

 After she had finally made her way into the barracks grounds-- which involved a rather embarrassing moment of being corrected after she suggested through Henry that she could just go through the back gates and not have to duck so awkwardly-- she had been ushered into a place chosen by Duke William where she could stand and be ’Grandly Noticed’ by the arriving members of the council. 

Henry had, very thankfully, managed to convince the Duke that as her liaison he should be doing the majority of the talking, but despite his best efforts the Duke could not be swayed from his plan of having her simply stand in the empty piece of grass in front of the nearest armory to the main gates. Melanie had stood for over an hour, saluting the military-branch officials who arrived and bowing to the members of the nobility, political and religious leaders, and the gentry with the helpful signaling from Chase before his morning shift had ended and he left to get some sleep in the bunks.

It had been hell. Her position, while presumably great and awe-inspiring to look at, had her far enough away from the walls that no one was near enough for her to hear clearly over the din of general commotion around the crowded grounds unless they shouted, which they only did when they were shouting orders directly at her. Melanie had thought until that moment she’d be relieved to not have to speak to anyone all day, but being some kind of awkward obelisk that felt extremely in the way was so, so much worse.

Miller and Jones had done their absolute best to try and make her more comfortable, standing near her feet and even resting against her until the Captain had managed to get an order down somewhat-covertly through lieutenants and informed them that there were to be no people within a certain allotment of feet by the Duke’s decree.

Henry had seemed, at multiple points, like he was attempting to convince the growing party of council members to join him and come to speak with her, or at least to try and call her over, every time the Duke seemingly shutting him down on the idea. By the time it was all said and done, the congregation-- including a reluctant Henry-- moved to the inside of the Barracks building and Jones was given the all-clear to let her move to where her items were still being held from the day before. A spot that was well-noted by the giant woman to be within a very clear view of the large meeting-room windows.

“He says you should avoid talking too openly for now, ma’am,” Miller had said once she had found space to sit against the gray stone wall. The small lieutenant looked genuinely distraught at having to break the news to her as he continued, “Duke William seems to have something in mind, and until he knows for sure what’s happening, Mr. Henry suggested you just ‘stay neutral’.”

 She had nodded and smiled a quick thanks, but it didn’t soothe Edmund at all.

 “I had been hoping for more lift-team practice, probably up-long the net-wall,” he sulked, flopping onto the toe of her boot and leaning back against the laces before turning to face her more. His eyes had moved up to lock with hers, a desperate earnestness on his face and in his voice. “I swear, ma’am, I can get the hang of it.”

Back at the lakeside in the present, Melanie scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. Miller had been… notably upset with how lift-drills had gone the night before, his balance being a much more prominent problem than she had originally figured at least when it came to him standing while in transit, and because of how bizarre the morning had been she hadn’t been able to devote any time to really troubleshoot problems. The others she had worked with had their own issues, but everyone seemed to have made significant progress even by the end of the short time they were working. Everyone but poor Miller.

As the sound of horses and the clattering of carriage wheels reached her ears, she felt a slight pang of disappointment that she didn’t have any time right now to think on it, either.

 Penelope and Francine jumped to proper attention as the vehicle approached, rushing quickly to man the doors on either side once it stopped farther up the trail. The giant woman remained seated, trying to sit up into something that appeared proper while not wanting to scare the horses any more than necessary.

 “Good afternoon, my dear,” Ais’lyn called after exiting, followed closely by Theresa, and giving quiet instructions to Francine, Penelope and the cart driver. Her Grace was not in the dramatic black and gold uniform of the last several days, and Melanie’s eyebrows lifted as she gazed at the gorgeous honey-brown gown-and-coat combo she was wearing, and the short-haired woman was about to compliment her in greeting when another woman in similar dress stepped from the carriage.

Melanie moved her hands immediately to her lap, trying to bunch in on herself in such a way to make herself small, non-imposing, while maintaining as proper a look as she could. Her overly-used polite smile slipped onto her lips almost as if she meant it, and she watched Ais’lyn instruct Theresa, Penelope and Francine into the cart and set it off back up the road after an awkward turn.

‘Excellent,’ she thought with an internal sigh. ‘More staring.’

“My sincerest apologies for the delay,” the Duchess called exasperatedly, making it very easy to keep eyes on her fierce and dramatic approach. “I’m not much a fan of carriages regardless but on a forest road the horses insisted that their pace was more important than our afternoon tea. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“No, not at all, your Grace,” Melanie replied softly, noting the slight stagger of the other woman’s steps when she spoke. “It’s very pleasant here, so I wouldn’t have minded waiting longer if needed.” 

While she tried desperately to keep her gaze on the Duchess-- both to avoid unsettling the guest further and also just to avoid having to look at another staring face-- the giant woman was almost drawn to the girl, the same way as they had been to Duke William when they had first been introduced.

With long black hair in a tight up-do and a delicate, would-be-pale complexion that was tanned from summer sun, the girl seemed to be significantly younger than Ais’lyn, likely in her early twenties at oldest, if the giant woman were to guess. She was in a gorgeous gown-and-coat outfit, similar to Ais’lyn’s but made from a dark blue velvet with golden thread in an intricate embroidery around the hem and cuffs.

What truly drew those massive hazel-framed pupils away from the Duchess though, were the sparkling, deep-blue eyes, identical to those of the Duke. Melanie nearly gasped at the sight of them again, and once more found it extremely difficult to tear her eyes away.

Ais’lyn smiled, coming to a sharp halt and holding herself in proper, noble posture before sweeping an arm gracefully between the younger girl and the giant woman, both of whom were staring-- as politely as possible-- at one another. “If I may introduce you both, this is Melanie Barnes, recently of the Eastern Coastal Watch,” the Duchess announced, with a rather dramatic flair. “And this is--”

“Marienne,” the girl stated, clearly and confidently with a proper, almost military-esque bow. Ais’lyn offered a surprised and impressed expression; evidently she had not expected her to be so bold so fast.

Melanie smiled and bowed her head, unable to hold back as she blurted out: “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. Are you the Duchess’ daughter?”

“Ah, no,” Ais’lyn said with an uncharacteristic awkwardness beneath her clear tone. “She is my niece-- as much as I enjoy to say it, though she’s technically my second cousin if we’re to follow the formal family tree, as it were.” Marienne, who had seemed surprised by the question, offered a faint smile as she remained in an almost formal, noble stance. The Duchess paused just briefly before turning from Marienne to the giant woman with a faint smile of her own. “Myself and the Duke have no children, actually.”

“I understand,” Melanie offered quietly with a polite smile of her own, fidgeting just slightly on the grass. “Thank you for the correction, your Grace.”

“Oh please,” the Duchess sighed with a more amicable laugh, waving her hand dismissively and walking closer to the water’s edge. “I sent the others away for a reason, I’m quite exhausted of the formality and I was very excited when my niece informed me she was feeling the same way. Please, speak freely and openly and enjoy yourself; I imagine my husband and the council have bored you to death all morning.”

Relaxing visibly, Melanie moved to lean back against the tree and adjust her legs to be more comfortable, letting out a long breath. “Duke William and the council did very little speaking with me directly,” she said, immediately raising a hand in defense when she saw the look of irritation growing on the Duchess’ face, “which I was fine with, I promise you, it was just… longer than I would’ve enjoyed.”

“Why, pray tell,” Ais’lyn drawled as she brought a hand to her face, Marienne striding to be beside her for the conversation, “did my husband see fit not to engage you in conversation?”

“I wouldn’t know, honestly,” she replied with a sigh. “Henry was doing his job as liaison, and we never had time to speak before I left to come here; they’ve been engaged in meetings since after the long train of arrivals and introductions finally finished. I was just there as… hm…”

“Set-dressing,” Ais’lyn said bluntly, finishing her sentence for her with a finality that said that should any other word had come out of her mouth, the giant woman would’ve gotten an argument. “Well, at least there wasn’t a repeat of yesterday.”

“Agreed,” Melanie chuckled with a nod, eyes gazing over the water quickly.

“Aunt Ais’lyn informed me of your brush with the Baron Hargreaves,” Marienne’s voice came, her tone was clear and sharp, a strange accent to it that again reminded Melanie of the Duke. “You have my sympathies.”

“I appreciate them, my lady--”

“Please,” the young woman interrupted, abrupt but not harsh. “Marienne is fine.”

“Thank you, Marienne,” the giant woman returned with a larger smile, gesturing with a hand politely. “It was a trial, I won’t lie. I’m extremely relieved you aren’t as… shocked, I’ll say, by my ability to string together more than three words at once.”

The young girl snorted a laugh and brought a hand to her face in surprise, as if horrified she had made such a noise at all, Ais’lyn laughing loudly from alongside.

“I wasn’t going to allow for that to happen again,” the Duchess chided her, “besides, my niece is far more… experienced in handling people, and is a woman. There’s little that would shock her to the point of being struck so dumb as the Baron seems to persist as. They share a Naval background, but Taylor tucked his tail between his legs before he’d barely hit the waves, so I wouldn’t say that’s much of a comparison to make.”

“Oh, you’re in the Navy?” Melanie asked with interest, leaning forward from the trunk of the tree again.

“Yes, a, um, Lieutenant,” Marienne said with a small stammer and an awkward glance away.

“She’s in the area for training exercises with her crew,” Ais’lyn jumped in with a proud smirk. “Given our relation, she was spending shore-leave with myself for the weekend before the exercises begin tomorrow.”

“Fantastic, I’m honoured to meet a member of the Navy officially,” she replied, grinning widely. Marienne stepped forward instantly as though gliding, her hand held out in front of her and pointed downwards, displaying her wrist. The short-haired woman paused, not entirely sure of how to proceed.

“Melanie is a foreigner,” the Duchess explained softly, coming up alongside the girl and placing a hand on her arm. “Their customs are quite different, from what Henry had been telling me.” She turned to address Melanie directly, gesturing with her free hand. “Here, move into a kneeling position and we’ll get this out of the way-- it’ll be important for when you meet more members of the nobility and royalty in the future.”

The exercise was a great way to break through any lingering tensions between everyone, Ais’lyn directing positions and walking through several types of greetings. The personality of the General seemed to slip out of the elegantly-dressed woman, her tone commanding without being harsh; her words being taken as orders naturally.

“Why do you keep hesitating?” Ais’lyn asked, mild frustration in her question as she observed the large woman kneeling and bending as low as possible to the ground in front of Marienne, who was audibly giggling about the entire situation.

 “The kiss is awkward!” Melanie whined as quietly as possible, turning her head just enough to look at the red-haired woman with a pleading expression. “I’m terrified I’m going to knock her over with my nose or drool on her something, the angle is horrible and it’s just--”

“Stop crying about it,” the Duchess chuckled, shaking her head. “Tip your head to the side and just use the side of your mouth then.” Marienne almost buckled over laughing, her gloved-hand still draped delicately over the giantess’ index finger, Ais’lyn chiding her playfully.

“She’s in the Navy,” the giantess replied defensively, smirking toward Marienne from her extremely uncomfortable kneeling position. “I could just salute--”

“Kiss her damn hand or I’ll have you arrested,” Ais’lyn snapped, sending all three of them laughing loudly.

Melanie steeled herself after the chuckling had petered out, softly pinching Marienne’s hand in the crook of her finger with the pad of her thumb and bending down carefully but quickly; her head turned almost completely to the side, pressing her lips to the back of the hand softly just to the left of center and then leaning back up.

“There!” Ais’lyn said with light applause, both Melanie and Marienne looking extremely proud and pleased with themselves. This was the final greeting that the Duchess had intended on teaching over their short time together, and was the most complicated. “Was that so awful for either of you?”

“No, Aunt Ais’lyn,” Marienne replied between giggles, curtseying with a majestic flair toward the massive woman in front of her.

 “No, Ma’am,” Melanie replied after her chuckles had finally stopped, placing a hand over her heart and bowing. “Thank you, Marienne, for your extreme patience with me.”

“You’re a quick learner, it was no such strife,” the young girl replied, grinning up at her.

The large woman allowed herself to be comfortable again, standing to her full height to stretch her legs and back after muttering soft warnings and apologies for needing to do so and then kneeling to survey for a better place to sit.

“The lack of seating here was not something I had thought of,” Ais’lyn stated with mild disappointment as she also glanced around. “I’d even settle for a rock at this moment.”

“That can be arranged,” Melanie replied, her eyes scanning the ground among the trees surrounding their little area and seeing a few viable seating options for the General. “They’re probably going to get dirt on your dress though, and I’d hate to soil it. It’s gorgeous.”

“Oh,” she snorted with a laugh, shaking her head up to the giant. “Please-- gorgeous yes, but they’re riding clothes. Fancier-made, of course, but I never slip into a dress now without it being functional.” The older woman hiked up her skirt with one hand and pulled it to the side, revealing the slits in the front that displayed her pants beneath. Marienne seemed delighted by Melanie’s impressed expression and displayed her own in the same manner.

“Stunning,” Melanie laughed quietly as she grinned, bending closer to observe and Ais’lyn happily doing a turn to show the entire ensemble off. “I would never have guessed it was riding clothes, I always assumed those would be… I suppose rougher material, in a way.”

“Aunt Ais’lyn has commandeered several royal tailors at this point to make specifically ‘ballroom clothes she can still gallop off in’,” Marienne remarked with a bright laugh, even mocking her Aunt’s voice for a moment. The younger girl had relaxed to a point of informality finally. “My youngest brother insisted I order several sets of my own so I could keep up with his riding adventures even when we’re entertaining honoured guests.”

“Oh, I love that,” the giant woman said, stepping into the woods briefly and yanking up a flatter rock with both hands, oblivious to the looks she was getting as she casually placed it down beneath one of the shadier trees. She continued to speak as she reached into one of her coat’s many added pockets and drew out a cloth-- technically extra material for repairing her coat lining with if needed-- and draped it over the stone. “All that being said, I’d still feel bad if they got dirty, so-- please, help yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Ais’lyn blurted, blinking, Melanie finally turning around to notice the expressions on the women’s faces. Her cheeks went red as she scrambled to try and think if the rock she had just moved was heavier than the support-beams for her tarp or not; she had forgotten fully that she wasn’t supposed to be lifting.

Marienne approached more slowly than the Duchess, gazing at the rock in awe. It was the full length of a person to her, and a foot and a half thick at its lowest point. Its width was probably still a solid three feet or more, and it was evident to the giant woman that she was having a hard time grasping the weight of it, the strength involved to move it, or any other number of things.

Melanie reacted in panic, going for the first strategy that jumped into her head on how to get out of a situation like this; distract.

“I would’ve been very pleased to meet your brother, as well,” she started, speaking a bit more quickly than natural. “Is he occupied today?”

“Oh,” Marienne said, her and Ais’lyn surprised by the sudden turn of conversation. “He’s in the Capital, actually, working on his studies, and--”

 “Marienne is in our province only for Naval training exercises,” the Duchess cut her niece off to remind the other woman, sitting on the rock casually, crossing her legs. “I am entertaining her while she has time away from that, given she’s away from the rest of the family.”

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Melanie offered with an awkward blush, the Duchess waving at her dismissively. 

“No worries my dear, the details of our relations aren’t important right now however-- would you like to tell us some things about your home, perhaps? I personally would adore to hear them.”

Marienne seemed to melt from a temporary tension that arose when Ais’lyn had cut her off, coming to sit beside the red-haired woman and nodding eagerly. “Yes, if you would kindly; I would be very pleased to learn more of you.”

Sitting on the ground in front of the women and crossing her legs comfortably, Melanie smiled and relaxed. “I would love to,” she said.

Chapter Text

 “Ed, y’gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”

 Fuller’s voice was tired, his arms full of clattering dishes and cutlery as he brought them all to the washing station in the Barracks kitchen, Miller close behind with his own.

 “Everyone else is gettin’ it though,” Miller sulked loudly to the cook. “Sure, Wells looks like he could do it all blindfolded in a handstand he took to it all so fast.”

 Fuller took Miller’s dish stack from him and put it on the wash station, giving orders to the privates nearby to clean this load for the next lunch call. “Ed,” he sighed, turning to slap a hand companionably on the other 2nd Lieutenant’s shoulder before forcibly turning him and slowly pushing him along to the doors with him. “Not everyone is gettin’ it, you’re one of the few folks brave enough to go through with any of this, ‘specially this fast.”

 They broke into the much cooler air of the grounds, detouring toward one of the in-ground food cellars. Edmund shoved his hands deep into his pockets, sulking openly. “...Bravest man in the troops,” he muttered in retort as they went.

 “Yeah,” Fuller drawled, stopping to stare at him skeptically while he opened the door to the cellar and stepped inside. “Nobody’s takin’ that away from ya just because you need more than one hour, with a half dozen of you all goin’ up and down, and that’s including an awful lot of time that was spent just talkin’ through it.”

 “I’ve done it before though!” Miller blurted out in frustration, grabbing one of the lamb carcasses off of a hook. “I’ve done it more than all of ‘em except for Mr. Henry!”

 “Yeah, she likes ya enough to give you extra practice. This is only gonna work in your favour, bud,” Fuller said, grunting as he also grabbed a lamb. “Hell, maybe she was makin’ it tougher on you on purpose because you had the extra practice already.”

 “Shit,” Ed breathed as they wandered back toward the kitchens. “Y’think so, Fuller?”

 “Hell yes,” Fuller replied, laughing. “Bravest man in the troops, ain’t ya?”

Chapter Text

“The Watch seems to have acclimated quickly to her presence,” Monitor Jacobson commented, standing and staring out the window still.

“Our members have adhered to protocol in stressful situations, as is the nature of our role along these shores,” Commander Martellis responded with a quiet, direct pride from behind the cluster of men. “Even in an unprecedented situation such as this, the Watch has adapted as needed.”

“They certainly have the space to,” Lieutenant-Commander Hodge of the King’s Navy remarked.

Henry could tell by the way Peter’s eyes quickly flickered toward the door that this was one of the reasons why Daniel was not a member of this council; he could see it from his position near the middle of their meeting room, even. Hodge had already made a number of comments that seemed to be pointed jabs at the falling status of the Eastern Coastal Watch, if not the idea of the Coastal Watch in general. This was just another one of those ill-disguised barbs. 

“Quite a boon in this instance,” Thorne piped in from his place, nearly pressed up against the panes of glass. Henry took a brief moment where the only eyes on him were Peter’s to try and lean up on his tip-toes to see over their heads-- in part to see if Thorne had any look that he understood the barb behind the Lt. Commander’s words, and in part to see if he could also spy Melanie through the window now that she had returned from her rendezvous with the Duchess-- only to flop back down when the Staff Sergeant’s tone made it clear he was as oblivious as ever. “As I’ve come to learn, she’s not amphibious, so it would be quite difficult for her to be housed with the Navy unless you’ve come into some much larger vessels of late.”

Major Dorregan, of the Eastern Inland Watch, and Captain Hunt of the Royal Guard’s Provincial Patrol, both laughed quietly at the sentiment. Evidently they had taken Thorne’s words as a playful barb in its own right, and not the earnestness of a man who legitimately wondered if Melanie was a frog as well as a giant. The Lt. Commander also seemed to have taken it as such, or at least was bristling at the laughter of the others, as he finally turned from the window with faintly flushed cheeks to see Commander Martellis and Henry standing far back away from the crowd and watching the rest of them.

“If we could return to the discussions at hand,” Duke William’s voice rang strongly through the room in its regal tone. Major Dorregan seemed the only man to jump at the sound, heavily outweighed in rank by everyone else in the room-- save for Henry-- and turned instantly to break from the cluster of bodies. The Duke, while he had technically kept himself… respectfully distant in Henry’s mind, had still moved closer to the window upon the horns announcing Melanie’s arrival. The difference with Duke William, however, was that he was naturally tall enough to see straight over everyone else’s heads; this made it much easier to appear to be more proper about the gawking.

All of the council filtered quickly back to their temporary seating. There had been a meeting room specifically prepared on the top floor of the Barracks building, but Thorne had adamantly insisted on going no higher than the third floor for the sake of his own war injury and Henry’s still noted use of a cane. The men had obliged, and the Duke had made the declaration quite happily after they arrived that it was actually a better location because it provided a much better view of the ‘topic in question’ in her designated post behind the storage sheds.

Henry, though he hoped desperately he wasn’t showing it, hated this.

As the conversations resumed about the general working order of the council-- Commander Martellis would be mediator and voice of the Watch, Henry her direct liaison, Duke William acting as speaker of the Vogunti Nobility, etcetera-- the sailor attempted to ease out his anger and irritation so he could continue to maintain his calm, collected facade. He had argued immediately with the Duke about his intent to have Melanie just stand as a decoration, and that had put the day off on a bad foot from the word ‘go’, Daniel and Peter seeming on edge at the idea of upsetting the Duke even before his guests had begun to arrive.

…and arrive they did. He had been prepared to worry the most about the military branches’ opinions and concerns regarding Melanie and her place here, and even though she had warned him of the poison of ‘cost’ herself he was still blindsided by how quickly talk turned to financials and wringing every coin of value out of her once the Monitor, the Brund and the Lackney had arrived. Lackney Molligue was the true surprise to take such a turn-- a man of faith and one of the heads of the churches for the province, Henry had an ongoing wager with Melanie over whether they would be concerned she was a horrific religious omen of some kind or if someone would make the argument that she was a boon sent from and of the Gods to benefit the Vogunti nation. 

He refused to admit that he possibly lost his bet, even if technically she didn’t ‘win’ either-- the Lackney worrying about how funding her expenses would affect the coffers of the church as though there was nothing else about her that was strange or important. Just ‘how much will it cost to feed her’.

In honesty, he was still hoping to wait just in case the Lackney suddenly declared her a heavenly boon. He had had his eyes on a ring of hers for a while, and she had finally felt cock-sure enough to bet it against him.

 Monitor Jacobson, as an elected official, obviously had concerns about increased taxes on his constituents, while Royally-Selected Brund Franklin’s concerns were entirely on what this situation could contribute to the King’s income from the province. 

 The military officials were… well, they were about on par with expectation. The Lt. Commander, the Major, and the Captain all dove into the particulars of the information (and lack of information) in Thorne’s reports, wanting to know her ability to lift, her speed, does she swim, and so on. Hodge had asked her weight, which had sparked a lengthy, stupid series of arguments about the ability to determine that on top of how necessary that information actually was, and all Henry could do was stand back and let it happen.

 “...and Mr. Lemuels feels he can accurately convey the council’s wishes to the giant in a way she will understand?” Major Dorregan asked from across the strange table-less circle they had created out of chairs in the middle of the room. Henry looked up to him with a sharp, almost subconscious nod.

 “Communication is not an issue,” he repeated confidently. “Whatever the council should decide, I can discuss it with her easily.”

 “Discussion and order are two distinctly different things,” Captain Hunt retorted with a tone on the border of warning and suspicion toward the sailor, who furrowed his brow instantly.

 “The Watch,” Commander Martellis’ voice shot clear across the room, getting everyone’s attention; he had not spoken without direct prompting much for the entire day. All eyes fell on him with respect, including those of the Duke, as he continued, “has thus far had zero issue with her taking an order, and she is a person who deserves agency and consideration the same as any enlisted member at the very least.”

 While Henry easily relaxed under Peter’s interjection, he noticed a shift in everyone else that seemed to go the opposite direction; subtle, intentionally reserved, but notable still. The Duke’s voice got everyone’s attention next, clearing the air abruptly and leaving Henry to ponder just what he was missing in the atmosphere of this council.

 “As Mr. Lemuels has said, communication is not for us to be concerned with.” The royal accent always made Duke Williams’ tone hard to read, and given the way the room seemed to grow quiet with interest whenever he spoke, it was easy to believe that everyone-- outside of the Duke himself-- struggled with divining it. “A full-council discussion with Melanie herself can be made a docket item for tomorrow’s agenda should it be wished, or it can be a vote of a specific representative among you all-- either way, it is a discussion for tomorrow when the entire council is here.”

 Henry turned to look at Major Dorregan, the man not-so-subtly referred to in that statement. He was merely a placeholder until Captain Cleary was to arrive tomorrow for the actual council proceedings. The two men met eyes and gave subtle inclinations of their head toward the other; Major Dorregan had been the first-- and thus far only-- person to visit today who had expressed interest in meeting Melanie directly, and Henry had moved to offer the opportunity freely while she had been standing like the world’s most uncomfortable grain silo before Duke William had cut the idea off at the ankles.

 Even now, as the discussions continued around him like a messy, bubbling cross-tide, Henry still had not determined the true intentions of the Duke in avoiding having anyone speak with Melanie. The excuse of waiting for the entirety of the council to meet her at once rang clearly to him as just that-- an excuse-- and was confirmed as such by the glances and looks he received from Daniel and Peter.

 “Coastal Watch Commander Martellis and myself have determined that while there will be room for other men and women of Status, with vested interest in the movements of this council, to be invited to participate in discussion and debate over related docket items, they will not be weighed in any democratic processes that should occur,” Duke William was responding to a question posed by Monitor Jacobson and supported by Lackney Molligue. “While the voices of all on this council will be weighed with the respect and honor that they deserve as people of the King, I believe it need not be detailed in perpetuity that myself and Commander Martellis will hold an Overrun in event of dissent that should affect either the Province as a whole or as it will affect the Coastal Watch in this particular matter.”

 “Aye,” the voices rang out in scattered agreement, Duke William nodding firmly. 

 “And the giant,” Captain Hunt stated in his heavier, inarguable tone, “is to be treated as both an enlisted member and property of the Coastal Watch.”

 Henry Lemuels didn’t know what to make of Captain Hunt; a number of scars created a lines and bumps and seeming involuntary twitches of the upper half of the man’s face, and though he had kindly brown eyes, the rest of the man’s visage was something that seemed trained to promote an impression of inarguable authority. The statement he made was not an argument, but nor was it a clarification or agreement. There was an unspoken question that seemed to slip by everyone but the Duke-- likely an example of two men exposed to and speaking with the royal cadence for so long that it was a dialect of its own-- and Duke William inclined his head in acknowledgement.

 “If not both, then a decision for the council to discuss if necessary.”

 Peter Martellis made no movement, no expression, no sound; he was for all the world a painting on the wall that had become so much a part of the background decoration that you forget it’s there until the light should hit it in some way that you’re drawn to look at it. It had been hours of these discussions and questions and arguments, and while Henry had no doubt that this was part of the routine, part of the role, part of the game of being Commander of the Watch, it was Peter’s stillness on the matter of this question, this decision, that alerted Henry to the man’s potential discomfort.

 What would Peter want in all of this? Henry knew what he had wanted for Melanie, he believed even that he knew what Melanie would want in all of this, but he didn’t know what Peter wanted, and it was a consideration that for all of their meticulous, ridiculous planning and theorizing and musings that neither he or Melanie had ever thought they would be making. 

 He watched with determined intent as nothing but Peter’s eyes seemed to move; listening, reading, calculating something while these discussions continued to happen, and in that moment he realized one painful thing:

Henry had no idea how one of his oldest friends was feeling.

Chapter Text

‘He’s in a better mood today at least,’ Melanie thought as she stood to a vague approximation of at-ease on the uneven grass behind the storage sheds, facing the wall and watching Captain Grant give sharp but quiet commands to the guards up there. He was a few lines into Francine and Miller’s debriefs of how their morning and the early parts of the afternoon had gone while the Captain was evidently overseeing the operations in other areas of the Barracks, and seemed to be significantly more relaxed.

He still made the giant nervous, however.

‘It’s probably just because it’s been a long day,’ she tried to silently console herself, her eyes drifting over the ramparts and the traffic coming and going on them. ‘...But god I hope he doesn’t get pissy with me right now.’

“Everyone’s to stay clear of her by at least three yards,” Grant was clarifying, Melanie about to bristle and make a huff before he turned to her quickly and locked those freezing cold eyes with her massive hazel ones, causing her to remain still as possible as if he might not see her if she didn’t move; T-Rex rules.

“Instructions from the Duke,” he explained directly to her. “Once His Grace and the council members have left, it’ll be a return to normal protocol.” 

Involuntarily, she sagged a little with a quiet breath, nodding her relief before snapping back to attention. Grant’s eyes were still sharp and he had a sour expression, but if he had planned to reprimand her for slacking in her posture even momentarily, he showed no signs of it.

“Do we know when they’ll be departing, sir?” Miller asked.

“Whenever their business is finished,” Grant replied flatly, turning his gaze to Miller and then moving to face the Barracks building itself, Melanie tempted to turn to follow it but not wanting to risk correction. The Captain’s hand moved up to smoothly remove his hat, adjusting his loose blonde ponytail as he muttered loud enough for her and her nearby guards to hear. “Which won’t be nearly soon enough.”

Everyone else relaxed quickly with some very quiet and breathy chuckles, moving out of their at-ease stances and returning to freer movement. Melanie flashed a small and amused smile, but otherwise stayed in her at-ease posture; today wasn’t a day to assume that orders and protocol for the rest of the Watch also applied to her, if the morning had been any indication. 

Grant turned back to her with a slightly furrowed brow before inclining his head. “As you were.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she breathed with a nod, eyes dropping in time with her arms as she adjusted her footing again. 

Grant cleared his throat to catch her attention again, that natural near-scowl still all across his face. “A clear ‘yes sir’ is fine.”

“Yes, sir,” she repeated, louder, feeling her back and neck tense as if someone from the council’s meeting room would suddenly make some kind of shout or comment; along with the lack of closeness, there was a heavy impression she needed to avoid speaking while the council was present. He looked like he wanted to say something further to her, his mouth even opening before his eyes dashed to the spot behind her where the Barracks building stood and simply opted to dismiss her with a wave again.

Melanie turned and faced out from the wall, carefully pressing her back against it to lean, which put her ears near where most of the talking was happening but gave her a bit of much-needed relief. Her ankles were aching from the ‘Formality Training’ at the pond, and after nearly a week she was really beginning to feel the effects of not having a proper chair to sit in. Standing along the Barracks Wall was the closest she had been to having a conversation at eye level outside of the few times people were kind enough to climb the scaffolding for her-- and even in those instances she had to be seated most of the time for it to offer relief on her neck.

This was all to say her back was starting to hurt. 

To keep her mind off of it, the giant swept her eyes across the face of the barracks building, counting windows and trying to guess which ones the meeting may be happening behind from her spot across the grounds. Had it not already been a tiring day, she would be too nervous to look at the windows in the event people inside thought she was staring at them. From this distance and with the glare of the sun on the glass, she couldn’t make out any faces even if they were there, and only ever noticed people at the windows if they were actively leaning out to adjust the shutters or throwing them open.

“You’re free to sit down.”

The Captain’s voice was not nearly as sharp or pointed as it had been the past week, and certainly much softer than yesterday’s repeated issues with the man, but it still caused her to flinch slightly when it came out so suddenly among the quiet, casual chatter behind her. Melanie’s head turned just enough to see him standing almost alongside her. She was tempted to tell him no one should be within 3 yards of her, but figured that would only be asking for trouble.

“I’d prefer to stand for now, sir,” she replied quietly but clearly, her eyes moving back to the Barracks building after confirming his hat was still off.

“There’s no important conversation occurring up here,” he began, and she could hear the near-silent sigh just barely over the bustling on the ramparts. “I’ll call an order if you’re needed to--”

“This is just more comfortable, sir,” she interrupted, and she heard his sigh again. There was a quiet pause and she decided to continue before he could ask any follow-up questions. “My neck hurts.”

“Understood,” he replied after a moment, and she let out a tense breath she didn’t know she had been holding after enough time had passed that it was a sure-thing he had nothing further to say on the matter.

Over the next better part of an hour Grant continued to linger on the ramparts behind and beside her, keeping conversation more muted than it had been when he was out of earshot. Miller and the other guards had been instructed to try and ask her yes or no questions to avoid unnecessarily long conversation, and that just turned out to be awkward or confusing or both for everyone involved, so that came to an end as quickly as it started. As it turned out, ‘maybe, sir’ was a troublesome response under those conditions.

“Thank the stars,” Grant let out with such exasperation that she nearly laughed as they saw the Duke, the Staff Sergeant, and all members of the council being led by Commander Martellis to the stables. Without being instructed, Melanie moved to a proper standing position and snapped to a sharp salute as soon as she had noticed the Commander turning in her direction, the men with him all turning to witness before he raised a fist over his head to signal ‘hold’.

She returned to a standard at-ease pose until they had disappeared from her view behind the multiple buildings between them, and turned as Grant addressed her directly.

“Typically,” he stated flatly, his eyes more on where the group had vanished than on her, “you would wait until the Commander or person-of-rank was within a reasonable distance-- we typically say a rough estimate of about four yards-- but given the circumstances, you made the correct call.”

A smile actually broke onto her face, her eyebrows raising as the giant woman opened her mouth to thank him for a genuine compliment.

“Remember that for next time,” he ended bluntly, locking piercing blue eyes with her again, his expression still sour despite its improvements from the last few days.

…It had at least seemed like a genuine compliment.

“Yes, sir,” she replied politely, all the same.

“Liaison, on approach!” Miller boomed cheerfully, startling the both of them, and Melanie nearly began to twist herself into the ground like a drill as she turned to try and find him.  

“Along the ramparts, from the Barracks walkway,” Grant corrected her, and she furrowed her brow. She had never seen any walk-ways from the Barracks, but her tour with Miller yesterday had a blindspot behind the building.

Hazel eyes landed on the cerulean blue uniform and his familiar milk-chocolate hair shining in the sun, and she practically felt herself sink from the relief. 

Meanwhile, Henry allowed his pace to quicken upon seeing Melanie and Grant in such close proximity again, a momentary wash of intense worry over him until her face broke into its typical bright-eyed smile upon finally spotting him.

His pace quickened even more after that.

“Captain,” he said, saluting as well as he could with his cane in hand while he and Grant approached each other.

“Lemuels,” Grant returned politely, saluting back. He had replaced his hat while Henry had made his way over. “Any standing orders?”

“Simply to keep standing until the Commander either calls for us or decides to join,” Henry stated clearly enough that everyone standing around could hear. “The Duke and Staff Sergeant are remaining for a while yet,” he added more softly to Grant, “though I feel Peter is trying to encourage Duke William to go home for the day. He’s had his shoulders squared for four hours.”

A beleaguered sigh left Grant as he nodded, hat being removed again swiftly. “He had warned me this morning before you all arrived that we'd need privacy for the four of us, but trying to think of a location other than just the center of the field to have it in is proving to be a pain.”

“Why would we need to be in the field?” Henry asked, his brow knotting together as he boggled at Daniel. The two of them, the Commander, and Lionus could be trusted to keep a quiet enough composure to surely get discussions done in one of the rooms of the barracks without running the risk of eaves-droppers.

Daniel stared at him right back, his own brow knotting as there was a painfully pregnant pause, both of them looking at the other like they were an idiot.

Melanie perked up a little with surprise and interest as the Captain’s hand swung toward her.

“Because she’s fifty feet tall.”

The absolute perfection of the emotionless delivery coupled with the graceful maneuver would’ve been enough to make her smirk on its own, but coupled with the stunned expression of Henry as he was brought to the right conclusion so quickly caused her to snort audibly and turn her head, pretending to wipe her nose to hide her smile.

 Henry stared as Daniel’s face cracked into a proud smirk only long enough to confirm that he had found the moment amusing, the sailor rolling his eyes with a sigh as he turned to look at Melanie while he corrected Daniel.

“Forty-five,” he stated, causing her to let out a playfully annoyed sigh. He turned back to Daniel, inclining his head as he shook away his own amused smirk. This felt almost like their time in Academy together-- to Henry, at least. He had reason to believe Daniel would find the current circumstances a bit too different and odd to draw the same comparisons. “I thought the number included Lionus.”

“Corporal Ethridge won’t be necessary for this conversation, he’s currently engaged with training exercises for the medic corps,” Daniel said, his eyes moving to scan toward the stables. 

“Am I alright to stay here,” Melanie asked softly, getting both of their attentions as Henry moved to lean on a parapet, “or does the Duke want me to--”

“The Duke is fine with you staying right here,” Henry interrupted her quickly, a nearly desperate tone of reassurance leaving him. “You won’t be asked to do that again tomorrow, I’ve ensured that. I can’t guarantee he won’t find something else to have you do as everyone arrives--”

“Or that he won’t forget what was said today,” Daniel added warningly.

“Yes, that too,” he conceded with a tired sigh. “But it will likely not be as awkward.”

“Am I going to be able to speak with anyone tomorrow?” She asked, a bit more pointedly than she would like, but the idea of having to repeat her weird, isolating statue-routine tomorrow put her on edge again.

“The council?” Henry asked.

“Anyone.”

“You’ll be more free to have conversations; the Commander has already talked about having you set up your tent in a location they’ve either had marked or will be marking afield today, and that’ll be your first orders once tomorrow is fully underway,” he explained.

“Thank god,” she breathed, letting her head tip back.

“You’ll still be required to follow decorum,” Grant interjected, turning to address the others nearby a bit louder, “this applies to everyone. With guests on barracks grounds of this level of title and rank, best behavior and strict adherence to protocol is not just asked, it is expected. Keep this in mind.”

“Yes, sir,” a chorus of voices rang clearly, the Captain nodding sharply to the scattered crowd.

Conversation continued mainly between Henry and Grant as they waited for Martellis to finish seeing off the group, all of them expressing relief as the horns announcing the Duke’s departure blared from the front gates.

As Melanie followed the three of them at a slow walk across the field, it was evident that the Commander had had no better ideas for a private conversation that wouldn’t involve everyone traveling back to the scaffolding of the Training Grounds, which would’ve been too much hassle as Martellis was required back at the Barracks again that night.

“This is the area you’ll be setting up your tent in tomorrow morning,” he explained to them all as she took a knee in front of him and Grant and alongside Henry. “Which for the purposes of maintaining appearances when everyone is already aware of what we’re up to, we’re pretending to discuss right now.”

“Are you alright, sir?” Melanie blurted out quickly, Henry reaching out to touch her leg and shush her as Martellis turned in surprise at the question to gaze up at her, Grant’s brow furrowing and his shoulders tensing defensively.

The Commander held a hand out to Henry in dismissal as he let out an inaudible sigh. “...Long day, thank you for your concern,” he said, pushing the worry that he was openly projecting his desperation for this day to end far to the side so he could do what needed to be done. “I feel it important, right now, to speak with you both about some things that members of the council and other… interested parties will want to discuss. Things that it will also be expected that myself and Captain Grant know, at the very least, and I will be…”

He trailed off, frowning deeply, making Melanie curious and Grant and Henry both slightly uncomfortable. They knew this tone, this look, this… impression of Peter Martellis quite well.

“I will be indelicate about this,” he said, glancing around the field idly and leaning to check that there was no one on approach from the Barracks. “I would like you both to tell me what the honest truth of your circumstances is.”

The giant woman had started to nod eagerly when she glanced down to see Henry’s posture and came to an abrupt halt. Martellis released another inaudible sigh; this conversation was likely to become uncomfortable. “How you came to meet is on record already, those answers are fine. The matter of your time together, along with how and why you came to return here will be dredged out repeatedly and under wildly varying levels of scrutinization from officials of all kinds, so we will start there with the questions I’m most concerned with coming up.”

“Yes,” Henry said, adjusting his position and the sling across his body. “Whatever you feel would be beneficial to everyone.”

Peter took in a deep breath and steeled himself. Henry had already made his thoughts on this matter clear-- at least to him-- but he needed it spelled out to be absolutely certain. “Is this a matter of Conquest?”

“No,” Melanie started easily, “I’ve no intention to--”

“No.”

Henry’s voice was so stern and clear that she had practically jumped at the sound of it, a hand coming to rest by him out of instinct, shielding him on his far side. “Absolutely not. That’s not--”

“I just needed it clarified, Henry,” Peter said, a hand extended as if to placate him, and the giant woman’s hand moved to rest against the small sailor, observing in stunned silence as their interaction continued to unfold. “They will ask and I needed it to be as clear as possi--”

“It’s barbaric,” Henry spat, his shoulders tense. Vitriol poured from him, causing him to stammer. “A vile practice that I would never-- it’s been outlawed for generations.”

“There are exceptions,” Daniel jumped in flatly, staring down Henry with a serious expression. “Unknown lands and peoples are exempt from the amendment that banishes the practice, meaning--”

“No,” he said firmly again, his hand moving up to press against one of the giant fingers against him and push it away slightly. He wanted space, but his own fingers gripped it tightly for a moment to let her know that he appreciated the motion, the presence, the intent behind it all. 

“They will ask,” Daniel said firmly, taking a step forward. “Opinions of it aside-- though I can speak for myself and the Commander both that we share your thoughts-- you must be ready to answer this without turning into a rabid animal.”

“Hey,” Melanie warned from overhead as Peter uttered a soft ‘Captain’ to the man beside him.

Henry huffed, taking a moment to close his eyes and collect himself. They were right, he had already had a moment of shock when the Baron had mentioned it so openly the other day. Had the morals of his home really deteriorated so much in two-- four-- years?

“My apologies,” he offered, letting his shoulders relax a little, but he was still visibly ruffled. “You’re right. Thank you.” He fidgeted as the massive hand next to him dragged a finger through the grass uncomfortably. He was going to need to explain this later, and that was another set of worries entirely.

“All I ask,” Peter offered, sounding like he was bargaining, “is that you understand that you’ll be asked very uncomfortable questions, repeatedly.”

“When you say ‘uncomfortable’,” Melanie drawled curiously, and Henry audibly tried to shush her before the Commander gestured for her to continue. “Do you mean like the interaction with the Baron yesterday?”

“That’s… not out of the realm of possibility, I’m afraid,” he replied awkwardly, “but no, that wasn’t what I was inferring. There may be personal questions regarding your home life and culture that we’ll be doing our best to filter or shield you from as necessary, but insofar as you are a member of the Watch, the Watch belongs to the King, and should he decide to send… scholars, of sorts, well there will only be so much we can do. There may be questions of your physiology, and such.”

“Ah.” The massive frown on her features caused Henry to reach out and tap her hand lightly, Daniel squirming just a little as it happened. She tried to rein in her expression a little more. “I had expected that much, to be honest, though I’m not tremendously well-equipped to answer.”

“They’d find that hard to believe,” the Captain blurted out, crossing his arms as he looked her up and down. “Speaking is obviously not a concern for you, and while it hasn’t been a problem as of yet, not everyone will easily believe you were taught this well in only a matter of two years. Especially not by a sailor.”

“What are you implying, exactly?” Henry asked in a tone that was quickly fading into offense. “I suppose you would’ve taught her better, then?”

“Lemuels,” Daniel leveled with a stern gaze. “You’re the only man with sea-legs I would’ve expected to want to give elocution lessons in a foreign land. No one else on this council knows you enough to understand that, however.”

Henry’s mouth opened to argue as he rolled his shoulders back, flinching as the one in the sling caused him pain. He hesitated, his cane-holding hand hovering in a half-finished point before simply conceding. “That’s fair enough, though I’m insistent on the point that I'm not the only one who could have.”

“You’re the only one I would’ve listened to, probably,” the giant woman piped in off-handedly. “Or at least the only one that would’ve tolerated teaching me anything.”

Peter’s loud clearing of his throat set everyone’s attention back to him. “What is the nature of your two’s relationship?”

“That of tried and true friends,” Henry answered simply.

Above him, Melanie nodded seriously. “He tries me every day.”

Daniel sputtered so hard on a laugh that he started coughing. Henry merely blinked, staring at Peter who stared back.

“Captain,” the Commander uttered on a sigh as Henry muttered ‘how long were you waiting on that one?’ loud enough that the woman was sure to hear it. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but,” Peter continued after Daniel got over his momentary embarrassment and Melanie had managed to wipe the smug, proud smile from her face, “tried and true is well and good until asked the questions of why you both returned here.”

Henry’s mouth opened to answer when the voice above him cut him off.

“He wouldn’t have survived a trip alone.”

It was simple, it was blunt. Henry flinched at the layers of truth to it, the things that neither of them wanted to say or detail.

“Then why come back at all?” Daniel asked, crossing his arms and shrugging. “Why risk it, why rope her into it--”

“Capta--”

“I’m asking what they will ask,” the blonde man said, turning to Peter with a stern nod before turning back to lock eyes with Henry. “They will ask you not to know what is so good about here that you returned, but why it was so horrible there that you risked what you did to leave.” His piercing blue eyes jumped almost reluctantly to the giant woman still kneeling in front of them. “They’ll want to know either why you escaped where you were, or what you had been promised that made you come here.”

It was lining up to be a long, tense silence as those words threatened to hang in the air, Daniel’s eyes eager to drop away from the large woman and move back to the familiar, comfortable sights in this wildly uncomfortable situation he had no means to escape. Before he could manage, however, her mouth opened.

“And the sentiments among the kind of people asking these questions will likely be that we’re being untruthful should we say it’s something like… that he was homesick and I felt he deserved to go home even if it was a risk and was always going to be a hard adjustment for me?”

The sharp point on her words set Henry and the Commander’s hackles up near-instantly, the two men running over each other’s words in a race to try and placate the conversation somewhere below her. 

“That’s not necessarily--” the Commander attempted to say.

“The intent of their questions would be--” Henry tried to explain.

“Yes.”

Daniel’s voice was clear, blunt, and deeply honest. The other two glanced at him suddenly, and then darted their eyes between the locked stares of the Captain and the Giant as the man continued. “Frankly they’ll think it’s bullocks and part of whatever they believe the two of you are actually scheming, so--”

“Then we say it’s money,” Melanie shrugged, cutting him off casually. “I feel like money is a good enough cover, under that specific scrutiny?”

Daniel’s eyebrows raised as Henry and Peter looked on in stunned, baffled silence, various degrees of confusion and concern drifting over their features for their own personal reasons. “Can you make a convincing argument that Lemuels would’ve lured you with money?”

“Hey,” Henry said darkly, turning on Daniel.

“No,” Melanie admitted from above, just making the small sailor bristle more.  “Adventure and experience, then. Do those romantic ideals hold any water here?”

“This is not the place for this discussion--” the sailor called clearly, turning to face her and quickly holding out his hand to push back against her fingers as they swept in placatingly, patronizingly, her eyes still locked on Daniel’s.

“That’s more believable, in my opinion,” Peter interjected suddenly, Henry wheeling on him in such surprise he wobbled on his bad leg, slightly dizzy. A massive finger came to rest on his shoulder and he tried to shrug it off again, huffing loudly. “I would recommend that angle.”

“There shouldn’t need to be an angle,” Henry stated clearly. “Our answers should be--”

“Henry.”

Her voice was quiet and when he turned back to look at her, her eyes were scanning the large stone wall and the road out of the back of the barracks grounds for anyone who might be too close. “We never expected to be enlisted, our answers should probably change to accommodate that, at least a little.”

He hesitated, sighing as he turned back around to face Peter and Daniel again. “Alright,” he conceded. “What other angles should we all be considering?”

Chapter Text

The rest of the day had gone… well, awkwardly, would be the best way to put it. The conversation between Melanie, Peter, Daniel and himself had lasted much longer than Henry would’ve been comfortable with regardless of the content, and the content was still grating on him now hours later as they marched their way back to the Training Grounds. 

They had discussed ‘the narrative’, and while it was something he and Melanie had discussed at length during their planning for this journey-- all of the hypotheticals they had rolled over again and again-- he was desperately uncomfortable with the idea that Peter, and especially Daniel, were now involved in and seemingly taking control of said narrative.

“You’re sulking,” she breathed from next to him, tipping her head enough to nudge him.

“I am not sulking,” he snapped from his seat on her shoulder, pushing her cheek back with his elbow. “I’m irritated, I’ll admit to that, but I’m not sulking. You know better.”

“Henry,” she breathed, trying to keep her voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t carry to the men and women below, but she always assumed everything was a feast for prying ears when it came from her.

“No, don’t start,” he scolded her. “This is something we should’ve discussed, together, and in private before it became a matter of debate among the brass.”

“We don’t get private conversations,” she breathed, her gait slowing just a little to try and prove her point by watching Chase and Wells immediately drop back to match her pace on their horses.

“We should,” Henry muttered, fidgeting. “I was hoping to speak with the General about that today but the opportunity never arose.” 

“It was a secret meeting,” she breathed again, the Captain calling for them to pick up their pace. 

“I forgot, I apologize,” the sailor replied, letting out a sigh that seemed to soften him-- at least toward her. “Make sure we don’t irritate Daniel too much, I’m not looking forward to anything he may want to say to me behind closed doors after this afternoon’s little get-together.”

Commander Martellis had stayed again at the Barracks to ensure everything would be ready for the first official Council meeting tomorrow, and had suggested that Lionus would be the highest officer that should return with the training grounds team tonight. Melanie had been delighted by that, which she assumed was the reason the Captain immediately rejected the proposal and volunteered to spend the night on the grounds.

They had almost had a moment earlier, when it seemed like the giant and the Captain would be on the same page, at least insofar as trying to plan out a narrative that would placate the high hats and bureaucrats. Almost, but he had shut down every time her and Henry had had words, or had come into contact with one another.

Melanie heaved a sigh as her pace increased again, the traveling group making their way back into the forest finally. She knew that things were better than they had anticipated, better by miles, but she still couldn’t help but be upset that the Captain was the embodiment of seemingly all of the problems she’d assume they’d have once they were here. If there was one person who made her feel close to monstrous, it was him.

By the time they had finally made it back to the Training Grounds proper, Captain Grant had already managed to get word back to herself and Henry that he was requested in the Commander’s quarters. “Play nice,” she had teased him as she helped him to the ground carefully, nudging him with the back of her finger as he continued to mutter under his breath irritably. He slapped her away, telling her goodnight in case he wasn’t freed fast enough for the lights-out call, and she tried not to let her worry for him show too openly on her features.

“I hope you all aren’t finding the travels to and from too annoying,” he heard her say as he made his way into the building, listening to the men and women happily chattering away with her as the sailor and his cane tapped their way up the stairs to the top floor.

“Lemuels,” the cold voice greeted him as he opened the door and let himself in. 

“Henry is fine, Daniel,” he replied, looking to see the man seated behind the large polished desk with his hat already removed.

“You’re being treated as a member of the Watch, so actually,” he spat back tiredly, “it isn’t, but there’s no sense in talking to you about it.”

Henry quickly slipped his broken arm out of the sling and started to carefully go through his bending and flexing exercises, hoping they would take his mind off of his growing irritation. “...You wanted to speak with me, Captain?” He asked in pointed neutrality, and Daniel’s face flashed its silent acknowledgement that the ‘Captain’ in it wasn’t meant to sound respectful.

“I did, and I do,” he managed flatly after taking a steadying breath. “The familiarity you and her have together--”

“Melanie,” Henry corrected him.

“Who else would I be talking about?” Daniel shot back, his icy blue eyes meeting Henry’s suddenly steely blue-green and locking there.

‘Is this really worth the fight tonight?’ Henry’s mind rang as he stared down Daniel. He had noticed it the last two days now; Daniel refused to use her name if he could at all get away with it. The man refused to acknowledge anything about her at all that might indicate she’s a person unless it was to make someone like the Baron look more like a fool. The sailor rolled his shoulders back and inclined his head politely in concession, Daniel’s ruffled feathers seeming to soothe a little at the gesture before he continued.

“The familiarity you and Melanie have with one another… I feel it would be useful if you both tampered it down.”

“How do you mean?”

“Don’t get your back up, this is why I wanted to have this conversation one on one.”

“I’m going to get my back up. I need to know what exactly you’re asking of me and what exactly you’re attempting to imply, or--”

Daniel threaded his fingers into his hair, jostling the loose tie it was back in. A haggard sigh was all he needed to interrupt the man still standing in front of him, and he gestured to the chair across the desk from his own seat while he spoke again. “I’m not implying anything, I don’t care what the reality of your ridiculous situation is with her, and I have no interest right now in dragging you across the coals to try and get it out of you--”

“Our relationship is--”

“Don’t start with me, Lemuels, I know that isn’t the truth of it.”

“It is!” Henry snarled, refusing to take the seat in spite of Daniel’s pointed glare and continued pointed gesture.

“It isn’t all the truth of it,” the cold voice retorted, sharp brows furrowing tighter. “It doesn’t matter, I’m trying to warn you that if you seem too familiar with her, they’ll refuse to take you seriously.”

“They have no choice but to take me seriously, I’m her liaison and that role has been ordained by a direct relative of the King and the Lieutenant General of the Watch.”

“The Coastal Watch.”

“And?”

Another sigh left Daniel, this time more irritated than haggard. “The other branches of the military already don’t look at us as an… equal contributor to these kinds of discussions. The Coastal Watches have been deteriorating to the point that on the northern coasts it’s been disbanded entirely and dispersed the duties and enlisteds between the Inland and the Navy.”

Henry hesitated as he listened, watching this distant memory of a friend with eyes that wanted to remember the tells, the subtle nuances of this man’s emotions as they would have come through his body so many years ago. His tone was softer when he spoke, trying to gauge how much of Daniel really was still in front of him; how much of the man had been replaced by ‘the Captain’. “I wasn’t aware it had fallen to such… disrepair--”

“Don’t fool yourself.”

The bitterness that escaped, like a hiss of steam before a kettle truly starts to boil, told him everything he needed; Daniel was here, Daniel had never left. He relented finally, walking over to the chair and finding himself a seat as the man in the Commander’s chair continued.

“It isn’t disrepair, it was a long-running campaign of attrition by the politicians who felt-- who feel we are too expensive to continue to operate, and the other military branches who wish to bolster their numbers and usefulness as much as possible to attempt to ensure that such a fate never falls on them.”

Hanging his cane on the arm of the chair, Henry continued to work his broken arm as much as he was able to without hurting himself too much. “The Navy would never have to fear suddenly being disbanded--”

“Yes, yes,” Daniel’s sarcastic remarks exploded out of him so abruptly that all Henry could do was stare in disbelief at the outburst. “The prestigious sailors of the Navy are too skilled, too noble, too precious to King and Crown to ever be denigrated to--”

“They’re offensive.”

Daniel blinked, sitting up straighter as the comment took him off guard. He regarded Henry suddenly in a new light, like he was a completely new man, and his face started to brighten--

“As in: they’re attackers.” 

Daniel’s face immediately reset at the clarification, Henry’s unamused expression and blunt tone telling him he had been about to bark up the completely wrong tree.

“The Watch has always been a defensive force, and in times of relative peace that does not prove to be as useful as it actually, honestly is,” the blue-clad man continued. “The Navy are the King’s most vicious attack dogs, with the Inland Watch close on their heels, though still not nearly as aggressive or useful.”

“Lemuels.”

“I’m not wrong, unless you’re about to detail for me how this wretched set up has changed in the past decade, somehow secretly beyond my notice. Even in apparently four years of absence, I would love to hear you tell me that things are suddenly vastly different, that things have improved even slightly.”

“...Lemuels.”

“Go on, tell me that they--”

“You’re bordering on treasonous remarks.”

The tone of warning had somehow slipped by him the first two times, but now it made Henry’s blood run cold. He had forgotten, for just a moment, who exactly he was in the presence of. 

“You aren’t wrong, but this conversation never comes out of your mouth again on any of these grounds,” Daniel’s voice cut through his rigid hesitation. “That is an order and a warning both, Lemuels, do not take it lightly.”

“My apologies,” he muttered quietly, colour coming to his cheeks.

A tense pause moved between them and Daniel seemed to bristle at sounds of chatter and laughter outside, Melanie’s voice clear and distinct among them, the timber of her voice even at its lower volume causing the panes of glass to shake just slightly. She would forever be at that disadvantage here.

“...You aren’t wrong,” the Captain reiterated as his shoulders hunched and tensed against the sounds from outside, leaning over the desk as if literally trying to escape the noises that drifted to them from behind him. “The Coastal Watch has never been called on to take part in any offensive maneuvers or strikes against Hostenia-- or any other nation, for that matter-- in all of our history, because it was founded under the tenet that there should always be men and women on home shores and soil ready to defend the land from all that could come from outside.”

“An extremely noble and righteous notion.”

“A notion that some will argue means she should’ve been eliminated on the beach where she stood, and that we have failed by letting her come here and dictate our operations.”

“Daniel.”

“That’s Captain, Lemuels, and you’ll do well to remember that. Even she managed to pick up that much.”

“Well, Captain,” Henry said, sliding his broken arm back into its sling awkwardly. “I appreciate your warnings and will heed them as much as I can, but I will tell you with certainty that I have no interest in leaving her isolated in this, simply to impress a bunch of idiots.”

A sigh erupted from across the table and he took it as a sign to make his exit, pushing himself out of the chair before Daniel could start to speak again. “Lemuels, she won’t be isolated, she just doesn’t need to… handle you openly. You don’t need to encourage it. Just… practice distance, for a damn change.”

“I am, right now,” Henry replied, stalking off toward the door. 

“You’re doing her no favours.”

“Goodnight, Captain, I’ll see you at first call.”

The door slammed shut behind him and he could hear the muttering and groans through the thick wooden feature as he started to make his way down the stairs. ‘Practice distance,’ Henry thought mockingly as his feet and his cane tapped their way back to the bunk level. ‘She needs at least one person on her side, and it needs to be me. No one else is going to be able to help her the way she needs.’

“Do you prefer this kitchen, Fuller? Or the one at the Barracks?”

Fuller’s mouth opened to answer the giant woman but Hicks cut him off swiftly with a loud laugh. “He prefers whatever kitchen he gets to run, ma’am.”

The cook shrugged as everyone around the new firepit outside of the dining-hall doors had a good laugh. “You’re not wrong but shut your hole for a while anyway, Hicks.”

Melanie chuckled, laying on her stomach with her arms folded underneath her. “Well, suppose you’re running either. Is there a preference?”

“Well, Barracks has the newer equipment, more space, and better spots for storing the perishables,” Fuller started, hauling himself up onto a barrel with a yawn. “If I’m running it? I’d prefer that one, though it means needing to direct more hands. Latest group of privates seems to have a good few kitchen hands in it though.”

“We’ll need them if we’re going to be feeding half the damn countryside’s worth of Barons and Brunds every damn day,” Peters piped up from his spot somewhere to the left of her.

“Decorum,” Chase called warningly. “Mind your tongues about the Honourables, you’re still on military time.”

Several ‘aye, sir’s and ‘yes, sir’s echoed around the area, Melanie joining in quietly. The window in one of the bunk rooms swung open with a clatter and her eyes jumped to see Henry hauling a chair over to the sill to join in. “Are you staying out of trouble?” He asked her pointedly after everyone had sent him a friendly wave or greeting of some kind.

“I’m on my best behaviour,” she drawled teasingly, lifting one of her hands only enough to rest it against her chest. “Chase can attest.”

“No need to flog her yet, sir,” Chase called up with a chuckle.

“Glad to hear it,” the sailor replied. The giant woman’s eyebrows raised curiously as her pupils dashed between him and a quick glance up toward the Commander’s Office balcony just above them. He frowned, shaking his head in warning; now wasn’t the time to ask or speak on it.

Almost as if on point, beyond where anyone could see from their positions, Melanie heard the sound of the latch opening on the balcony doors. Her shoulders fidgeted before turning her attention back to the conversation at hand.

 “The council should hopefully only be staying for lunch, so that reduces some workload at least, yes?” She asked Fuller.

“Thankfully, yes, and honestly it’s only really the breakfasts that can completely start a day on a bad foot, you need people up and stoking those fires early and getting boilers ready. Rest of the day rolls as usual after that.”

“Speaking of breakfast,” Miller’s bold voice surprised her as he and Jones wandered back from the stables, the man making a beeline for her arm as he took a seat at the crook of her elbow.

“Ask first,” she heard Jones whisper scoldingly to him.

“It’s fine,” Edmund whispered back, waving him off dismissively before continuing with what he was saying. “Did you want coffee tomorrow with breakfast, ma’am?”

“Oooh,” she drawled, looking up and away from the top of his head to the cook again as if asking permission. “I’d love some, but it’s going to need like… seventeen sugars or something ridiculous, and that has to be too much to allow.”

“I don’t see why not,” Captain Grant’s sharp voice sent an immediate shock down her spine and everyone took a quick glance up to see him leaned out over the railing, staring toward the back of the grounds. “We let Wells do it.”

“I have a delicate palate,” Wells chimed in amidst the laughs of the rest of the Training Grounds team, laying on a stack of planks along the edge of their little social-circle; until now, Melanie had been completely sure he was asleep. “Thank you for recalling my coffee order, Captain.”

“Man after my own heart, Wells,” the large woman sighed wistfully to more chuckles, and a faint uncomfortable sigh from above. The first lieutenant blew her a kiss lazily from his place still sprawled atop the wooden planks.

“You’ll probably need more sugar than usual,” Henry called from the window, “and cream. The coffee here is much more bitter than back at your home.”

“Mmm, I’d love to have a coffee that didn’t need to be half sugar,” Wells replied.

“You’ll rot your teeth out of your skull,” Devon remarked as he exited the dining hall with Kendrick, eyes landing on Miller for a moment and sending the Lance Corporal’s face to sheet-white before he turned his attention back to Wells with a quick shudder. “I hope you’re at least keeping up on brushing them.”

“Oh, did you study dentistry?” she asked with a tilt of her head, Kendrick shaking his head to answer for Devon.

“No,” Devon replied, “so don’t ask. Your teeth are your responsibility.”

“I take good care of them, actually,” she said with a hint of offense that caused a warning groan to come from Henry up in his window. “The last thing I want to deal with is you bringing your sour hide anywhere near my mouth.”

“Maybe something sour would inspire you to close your lips for a bit instead of talking,” he shot back dully.

“Decorum,” Chase said with a sigh before glancing up at the rapidly-darkening sky. “C’mon ma’am, should head back to your end of the grounds before it gets too dark to see. We never lit the fire yet.”

Edmund and her both let out long, whining groans, the large woman mumbling a ‘yes, sir’. Edmund shoved himself off of her arm, turning quickly to grab at her closest fingers as they started to move into position to push her off the ground.

“I’ll pull you up,” he said, starting to walk backwards as she laughed in surprise, the volume louder than she would’ve wanted as she covered her mouth with the ungrabbed hand.

“Thank you, Miller,” she said, chuckling as she let him keep dragging her arm out from her until he looked liable to fall into the fire pit. “I think this would work better if you were on a higher floor though.”

“We’ll try that next time, ma’am!” He laughed, letting her fingers go. The crowd began to disperse as she brought herself up to a kneeling position, resting her hands on her hips and bending backwards to stretch her spine out again.

“Are you alright?” Her voice caught Henry slightly by surprise as he looked up from the journal he was trying to scribble in on the sill. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, smirking tiredly at her. “Go rest, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Take it easy on yourself, please,” she said, bracing herself carefully after making sure everyone was out of the way and getting her feet under her. “Rest your leg. Is your shoulder ok?”

“Go rest, you nuisance,” he laughed, waving at her. “I’ll be cane-free tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

“Sir,” Kendrick called up from below. “You should probably--”

“Sorry, Kendrick,” he sighed, leaning out over the edge to find the medic. “I’ll keep it on me just in case.”

The sailor’s face burned red as he turned his gaze back up to see Melanie’s knowing smile fully across her face. She might not be able to get him to take care of himself, but Kendrick was a whole other beast apparently. “Night, Henry,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he said pointedly, shaking his head at her as they both tried to hold back their chuckles.

Taking one last glance around her to ensure she was clear, the giant stood up so swiftly that Captain Grant jumped backwards in surprise, catching her completely off guard. “Oh, sorry, sir.”

He stared, red-faced and irritated. “Light’s out,” he called suddenly, bereft of anything else he could think of to say, turning and heading toward the open balcony doors.

“Light’s out!” The calls from below rang out in repeat, and she simply chewed on her own thoughts as herself, Chase, and Griebes made their way to the back of the grounds for the night.

Henry watched her walk away, letting out a long sigh as more people started to pile into the bunk room behind him. Miller had climbed the stairs so quickly that by the time Henry had finished putting away his journaling and started to make his way back to his bunk, Miller was already stripping down to change into his sleeping clothes beside his own.

“Another long day ahead tomorrow, sir,” the lieutenant said to him as he hung his cane at the end of the bunk once Kendrick had scrambled to the top, the sailor letting out a long sigh and a nod. 

“Get some rest, Miller, this whole week is about to be very long, I’m afraid.”

“No worries at all sir,” he replied with a grin, falling onto the mattress with a thud. “You need anything at all, let me know and I’ll get it for you. There are a couple of things that help ease a long week.”

A ghost of a chuckle escaped him as he regarded Miller from his seat on the edge of the bed. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” he said softly as he stretched himself out on the thin cot mattress, pulling the itchy woolen blanket up over himself. His eyes closed, the idle chatter of the room reminding him vaguely of the strange noises that seemed to permeate every moment of his existence the previous two years in that strange land so far away.

Dreams took him swiftly, to the point he was sure he was out before the lanterns had been blown out for the night, and it would’ve been a fantastic sleep were it not for the images and sounds his mind decided to conjure in the night.

He woke just a few hours later, panting and sweating as he threw the blanket off of himself and planted his feet firmly on the ground. ‘I need a hammock,’ he thought bitterly. ‘This wouldn’t happen if I was in a hammock.’

The room was full of the sounds of men snoring, shifting and groaning in their sleep-- and somewhere in the room one of them was mumbling something about a snowball fight? The odds of him being able to drift back off while his head was still filled with the sounds of shouts, waves, screams were low enough… and now there was the added flavour of ridiculous, pressing questions about where he had been, why he had left, why he had come back getting thrown at him by his subconscious in the midst of the memories that still insisted in crashing upon the shores of his calm after all of this time.

“Alright’en, Lem, go get ‘er,” the voice of Forbes in his head cut in suddenly, causing him to take a breath like he was being splashed with ice water. “No rest for the wicked, take a walk.”

“Alright, ya rat,” he muttered under his breath in response to the ghost, searching with his feet in the dark for his boots.

The dim lanterns lining the halls took him down to the ground floor before he finally encountered one of the few people on the team doing night-watch. 

“You good, sir?” Jarvis asked in surprise as he looked the tired sailor up and down.

“Just need a walk, Private, thank you,” Henry said with a dismissive wave of his good hand.

“Take a lantern, sir, be safe out there. Critters like to loiter on the grounds in the dark.”

“Appreciate the concern, Jarvis,” he replied, taking the warm steel ring in the fingers of his broken arm. At least that didn’t cause him any pain.

He thought it was odd, as he passed through the doors of the dining hall out onto the grounds, that Jarvis would’ve cared to give him a lantern when the lamp posts outside the facility were lit. Then his eyes landed on the faint, flickering light of the fire at the farthest end of the grounds, and he let out a quiet sigh. 

‘Practice distance,’ a mockery of Daniel’s voice rang in his mind. 

“Not tonight,” he muttered, striking off toward the campfire, the lantern gently bumping against him with his steps.

The sweat had long-since evaporated from his body, and he had managed to move through the chill that followed back to a comfortable temperature for himself by the time the long dark walk finally looked like it was nearly over. He was trying to wave at Chase and Cassandra to keep them seated and quiet, but their concern was fairly obvious.

“Sir? Everything alright?” Chase asked softly as he stood to approach, offering to take the lantern from him.

“Shhh,” he hushed the lieutenant, bringing his finger to his lips. “I’m fine,” he whispered, “just needed some air, figured I would come check on everything.”

“Everything’s good here, sir,” Cassandra offered with a gentle smile, standing from her seat and offering it to Henry who politely waved it off. “Did you want me to--”

“No, no,” he cut her off, shaking his head, “don’t wake her, she needs--”

“Mmmfh…” the coarse and rumbling groan escaped her at the farthest end of the covered area, the sailor releasing a soft breath. “Henry?”

“It’s fine,” he said a little louder as she pushed herself up to look around, her eyes sleepy but wide as she looked for him. Chase next to him seemed shocked. “Go back to sleep, it--”

“Nightmares,” Melanie muttered groggily, and Henry genuinely couldn’t tell if she was awake enough to be present, or if she was sleep-talking like she had been known to.

“No, it wasn’t--” he tried to argue, but it was already too late. He sighed, his head drooping tiredly, though a warm smile came to his lips all the same. They had agreed this wouldn’t happen any more, they had agreed that this needed to come to a halt unless it was desperate, or an emergency… and yet this was still as routine as if it was still a year prior. 

Her massive body slid itself easily in her sleeping bag, the strange noise of the nearly-plastic fabric on top of the slightly-different-plastic bedroll uncomfortable for the other two to hear, but he had become used to it. “Sorry, Chase,” she mumbled as she reoriented herself to have her head closer to where they all stood, laying back down on the pillow she had dragged with her and seemingly unable to hear the lieutenant as he asked ‘sorry for what?’ in a confused reply.

Henry walked to meet her hand as it slid out from under the pillow, palm facing up, and he uttered his quiet thanks as he lowered himself into it to sit in her palm. The top of her head was behind him, her face turned with eyes closed toward the dark wood again to keep the flickering firelight from bothering her.

“Tell ‘em I say hi…” she slurred sleepily, yawning as she drifted almost instantly back off, the small man in her hand resting his back against the heel of her palm.

“Will do, sweet dreams,” he replied, colour and heat in his cheeks as he tried to dodge the curious stares of the two lieutenants in front of him as he patted at her palm. After a few moments had passed and he was sure she was on the way back to a deep sleep, he grimaced awkwardly as he felt compelled to offer some kind of explanation. “...She sleep-talks.”

It wasn’t the truth of it-- not the whole truth, at least-- but he didn’t want to explain the track of his therapy to two relative strangers; he didn’t want to explain ‘coping mechanisms’ like having conversations with his dead companions to help keep his night terrors at bay. He didn’t want to explain that it had been-- until several long months ago when she had become upset by something; when it had finally gotten to be too much for her to tolerate-- extremely common for the two of them to sleep together, to help each other through their nights when it was needed.

“Oh, we know,” Chase replied with a chuckle, moving back to drag his seat closer to Henry, an exercise in keeping their voices down. “Chatterbox for half the night, or at least she was at the start of it all. I was more shocked that you got her to wake at all.”

“Me n’ Lieutenant Chase have a running bet that it’d take a gunshot to get her up,” Griebes giggled softly as she brought her own chair over as well. “I’ve only gotten to hear her talk one time, and it wasn’t much of anything special, Chase has some stories though.”

“Oh?” Henry asked, sinking comfortably into the almost extreme warmth of her hand again, trying to keep his eyes trained on their faces. He could feel the wash of calm radiating through him just from even this amount of contact, and he was desperate to prove he could hold himself together.

“Oh it’s mostly nonsense words, but the first night… the night before the Duke and Dutchess first showed up, she spent all night apparently practicing what to call nobility I presume,” Chase chuckled. “She was dead asleep, myself and Jarvis kept thinking she had to be awake the way she was getting on, but talking to her just made it worse.”

“Oh dear lord,” he breathed, horrified. “Did she say anything… concerning?”

“No, sir, promise you she didn’t. She did insist she was going to call the Duke ‘Ducky’ when he arrived though, or something to that effect, and honest sir-- I don’t mean to be mean about it but the fact she didn’t wake up from us laughin’ makes me a smidge worried we’d never get her up for an emergency all-hands call in the middle of the night.”

“Thank the stars,” he laughed quietly. He had legitimately been terrified she had started talking about cars or planes or anything else he’d have to try and pass off or explain in some way. “Yes, back at her home it’s common for the older people in her community to refer to people as ‘ducky’ as a term of endearment.”

“I figured as much when he told me,” Cassandra chuckled. “Similar to where my family is from, though there it’s just ‘little bird’ or something to that effect.”

“Mmm,” Henry replied with a slow incline of his head, his eyelids getting heavy. “Very similar, honestly. Some of the phrases she used to use… well, I’m sure you’ll hear them at some point or another. She’s hard to break of some habits.”

There was a knowing look in Chase’s eyes as the man adjusted himself in his seat, nodding toward the sailor. “Can only imagine, sir. Did you want me or Cassandra to head back to the facility and grab a spare blanket for you or anything?”

He flushed with embarrassment again, sitting up a bit straighter. “Not necessary, I’m only planning to be here for a few more minutes and then I’ll walk back to the building myself, but… I appreciate it, Chase, thank you.”

“Of course, sir, no problem at all.”

“When you’re ready to go,” Cassandra said softly, “one of us will walk you back. Good to get a bit of a stretch in.”

“Thank you, Griebes, much appreciated.”

“To be honest, sir,” Chase said softly with a smile. “She’s been less fretful since you arrived.”

“Ah.”

Why did Daniel feel it so necessary for him and her to put some space between themselves? Why did it matter when it seemed to be so obvious to everyone around that they were close, that they cared for each other and that everyone seemed to be this… casual about it. 

He couldn’t lie, it felt… strange to have this attention put on it. It almost made him squirm, though there wasn’t any reason for it. They weren’t making ridiculous implications, they weren’t asking prying, personal questions of him about this friendship; this relationship. Did it feel this way to her, among the people she knew? Is that maybe what led to the eventual decision that it should stop?

“I’m glad,” was all he could think to reply with, Chase nodding. The next words slipped out of him almost carelessly. “I’ve been the same.”

“Can’t imagine the shipwreck was easy on you,” Griebes chimed in. “Or everything that’s followed so far.”

“The Duke and Duchess know how to put a person through their paces when it comes to interviews, I know that,” Chase agreed. “Had myself and her--” he gestured toward the giant woman, “--scared out of our damn wits when the General showed up unexpected like that.”

“She likes to run things on her own schedule,” Griebes said.

“Yeah, well, she could stand to loosen her grip on the reins a little, wouldn’t ya think?”

“General never got this far in her life by taking it easy on the reins or the whip.”

“God, that about sums it up for ya, hey?”

Henry’s eyes had drifted closed while the two were chattering amongst themselves, and the small man had started to slide down her palm until his head was suddenly resting against the warm pillow of her hand, at the base of her thumb. Their voices turned into soothing sounds briefly, before he was encompassed completely by warmth and darkness; a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Back into the routine, as easy as that.

Chapter Text

The pointed stare Henry received from Daniel as he walked through the doors to the mess hall, just moments after being set down by Melanie now that they’d finished traveling across the grounds together, said all it needed to say. He would’ve been embarrassed to have been caught so readily doing what obviously looked like the opposite of what he had been nearly ordered last night, but… it was Daniel. He’d save any embarrassment for if Peter had words about it later.

They had left the extra blanket that either Chase or Cassandra-- he had never asked about who-- had fetched back at her end of the grounds, the giant woman arguing that you can never have too many blankets available. He admittedly felt a bit awkward about it-- he knew she was keeping it there in case he needed to go out there again in the night. 

For all the talks, all the discussions, all the agreements that this type of thing had to come to an end, they had always had the awkward addendum of ‘if you need it, it’s available’ with each other. He had always worried that it was something just said to be nice, at least by her, but… there it was. It had happened naturally with no odd feelings beyond having to wake up not remembering where he was or that Chase and Cassandra were there once the horns sounded from the barracks. 

“Big day ahead, sir!” Miller’s voice said with a chipper grin as they passed each other on Henry’s way to collect his breakfast. The sailor waved, barely noticing the man was wheeling a handcart with an open barrel of steaming coffee toward the doors. He blinked, turning to stare at it as he laughed.

“How do I get one of those?” He called, Miller’s booming laugh making him grin.

“Asked Fuller the same thing, sir. He wasn’t too keen on doing it for anybody but her!”

“Fair enough, I’ll be out in a moment, Mill--”

“Lemuels.”

He blinked for an exceptionally long time while he restrained the incredible urge to sigh at the sound of Daniel’s voice. “Tell her I’ll be out after breakfast sometime, Ed.”

“You got it, Mr. Henry!”

Private Jarvis and one of the Noble Guards he’d yet to learn the name of-- Reese was the last name, though the Noble Guard seemed to be more on first-name basis, at least with each other-- were just leaving to the grounds when Henry and his plate made it to land beside the Captain.

“You still don’t like the yolks,” he remarked, glancing at Daniel’s presumably finished plate with the carefully picked-around yellow bubbles slowly leaking. He’d always wondered why the man just didn’t get scrambled eggs so it would be less of a problem.

Icy blue eyes flicked toward him in awkward surprise before the Captain put his coffee mug back down a bit hard on the table. “Don’t feign familiarity.”

‘It’s not feigned,’ he wanted to quip back, but felt that the coffee was about to be bitter enough for the two of them if the laughs from outside were any indication. Not that she had ever been subtle in any regard, but Melanie’s face was particularly loud about her thoughts on coffee. “My apologies,” he offered instead, sliding his broken arm out of the sling and resting the cast on the table to brace one side of the plate against as he dug in with his fork.

He felt Daniel’s eyes land on the display and didn’t want to look up to see the man’s expression. He simply chewed on a bit of fried fish while he waited to get reprimanded for dodging out to the other side of the field last night.

“Do you have a plan of any kind for the council today?”

Henry couldn’t hide his own surprise at the question. “As much as I can, I suppose,” he replied with a shrug.

“This isn’t the kind of affair you can just talk your way out of without thinking first,” Daniel said while straightening his posture and reaching for his coffee again.

“I wasn’t of that impress--” he started to reply blandly, digging at more of his breakfast.

“I’m not joking, Lemuels.”

“Neither am I, Captain.”

“Don’t give me attitude,” Daniel spat on a breath. “This will be disastrous for you and for her if you go in and try to ‘read the winds’ of everyone else in that room like you do--”

Daniel was nearly knocked out of his overly-proper posture as the small leather-bound book with the Watch’s emblem slapped its way onto the table between them, Henry managing to flip it open to where he had jammed the charcoal pencil between the pages. The words on the page were at a notable slant, the issue of having to write with a useless arm on whatever surface you could find, but they were clear: the priorities of what Henry was going to push for and push against at the council meeting today.

“Don’t feign familiarity,” he stated bluntly, reaching for his coffee with such a sharp movement that it sloshed in the cup.

There was a pause, Daniel frozen with his mug still held in the air before he brought it slowly back to his lips, his body so rigid that Henry could swear he heard the joints creaking like rusty hinges. “Of all the utterly unbelievable things I’ve had to come terms with in the last week,” he breathed darkly. “You taking notes is the most impossible.”

“We both took advantage of Peter for that,” Henry retorted, picking up a slice of buttered bread and shoving it in his mouth to muffle his next words intentionally. “Never meant I couldn’t.”

Daniel let out a soft sigh and Henry intentionally kept his eyes off of the man as the Captain stood up, picking his hat back up off of the bench between them and placing it on top of his head. “Ready her to leave as soon as she’s done eating. If we make good time, we can likely have her set up with the tent or whatever is set aside for her before the rest of the council arrives.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry replied automatically before grabbing his coffee mug again, less sloshing this time.

“Lemuels.”

His eyes drifted from his mug back up to Daniel.

“Don’t give them any excuse,” the Captain leveled as he walked around the table toward the kitchen, dishes in hand. “Be firm, but don’t be… you about it.”

“No promises,” Henry breathed to himself after the man had long left hearing range.

“You’re making quick work of it all, ma’am,” Francine said as she continued to hold the strange, woven cord.

“Faster it’s up,” Melanie replied with a few grunts as she worked a long, un-collapsed pole through a fabric track of some kind, “faster I can get a bit of relief from the sun.”

The giant’s hand went swiftly to Francine to take the cord back from her, a massive smile spreading on her face as she moved to attach it to one of the pegs. It was a pretty easy-to-assemble tent, when it was pegged down properly at least; she had unfortunately already had to make a show of driving the stakes down strongly enough that they’d hold in the looser topsoil of the field.

Another thing she’d probably be lectured for later. The council had been insistent on watching her from the wall before they began their meetings for the day, and she felt struggling with a tent on her own would’ve been a more problematic impression than just getting the damn thing done right the first time.

“Do you burn easily, ma’am?” Penelope asked as the large woman went back to the opposite side of the tent to continue threading the bendable pole through, the body of the tent finally starting to flatten out properly with a bit of structure in it.

“Used to,” she replied with a smirk. “Then I started going out on the boat and tanned myself properly for the first time. It’s much harder now than it used to be, but I still try to take care of myself. Mind yourselves, getting the next pole out.”

Penelope and Francine, the only two guards allowed to be near her for the morning, moved to make sure they were well behind her, Melanie snapping the collapsible pole out to its full length. She had been worried at first about the change of her usual chaperone line-up, but it hadn’t taken long for Francine specifically to tell her it was to make it easier for her to slip away for lunch again, ideally unnoticed and unremarked-upon by the council. They also confirmed that Ais’lyn was absolutely intending to join as she had yesterday.

 While the gargantuan woman took a moment as she was making sure the pole was locked correctly, though, her eyes confirmed by scanning the top of the suspiciously crowded wall that her movements were-- at least by members of the Watch-- being just that: watched.

“After this one,” she narrated in an attempt to distract herself from all of the eyes on her, “it’s just a matter of pinning the raintarp over the top and then we’ll be set.”

“Glad to hear it, ma’am!” Francine said, jogging in toward the center of the tent where she could help the giant make sure the pole went from one track to the other without Melanie having to awkwardly try and crawl across the fabric.

“Thank you, Francine,” she breathed appreciatively as she started the step. She really, genuinely liked Francine; there was something about her that seemed so much more approachable than the others. As easily as Edmund had started to interact with her a bit more personally, Francine seemed to take it to the next several levels immediately. 

She was, also, very polite about it. Melanie appreciated the gestures and wordless asking for permission and consent before some of the motions that were more… imposing? That didn’t seem like the right word, but it was the best one she could figure for the nature of Francine leaning or sitting on her in the ways the woman was comfortable with. She also had to admit that Francine’s easy-going nature, along with Edmund’s, were doing wonders for making everyone else comfortable around her.

Her hand slid out on top of the tent until Francine could hop onto it, the guard’s grip on the tip of her thumb still giving away how nervous she was about being lifted, but the giant woman couldn’t help but smile at the fantastic show being made of how cool and collected she obviously looked to the people on the wall. That was one of the clear differences between Francine and Edmund so far; Francine had decent balance.

Edmund… well. She was working on a solution for Edmund, still. There’d been a notable improvement in their lift drills yesterday evening, even though they had been extremely short-lived. Wells seemed a bit uncomfortable working on them without clearing it with Captain Grant first, and he also mentioned that he wanted to try and structure the practices a little more.

As the tent finally was pushed into its full stature-- to some amount of drifting commentary from the top of the wall-- she let out a sigh of relief that today he seemed to at least be less disheartened by the issues with his balance. Her hands got busy testing all of the zippers and traveling in and out of the tent a few times to see if there was a way to make it less awkward for anyone else to go in and out.

“I’ll have to ask Dawson to get something done up. Steps and a bridge, maybe, into the tent,” she half grumbled as she stood back behind Penelope and Francine, looking the thing over. “Gets in the way of the zippers, but… shouldn’t be a large problem if the weather is alright.”

Fracine turned around, arms crossed and brow furrowed to look up at the giant. “Did Henry or the brass warn you to make it accessible to everyone else, ma’am?” she called up curiously.

“No,” the giant woman admitted a bit bluntly, her eyes still on the tent as she tried to gauge if the straps and poles were all straight. 

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it, they may be trying to set you up with a place for real privacy.”

Melanie’s eyes dropped to find Francine’s, her back toward the wall of the Barracks’ grounds as she crossed her arms. Knowing that no one but the women in front of her could see her face, she let it share exactly how likely she felt it was that she might freely be given time alone.

“Fair enough, ma’am,” Francine replied, a light chuckle leaving her. “Could be something worth talking about with The General, all said.”

The large woman stepped toward the two smaller ones and knelt in the grass again, nodding with a lighter smile. “I’ll consider it,” she said, her eyes moving toward the sky as she attempted to find the sun, hiding the expression of discomfort on her features; she had a very strong feeling that whether she told Ais’lyn herself or not, this conversation along with any others she had around the Noble Guard would wind up repeated back to her regardless. “What time did that bring us to?” she asked when she couldn’t make any attempt at a guess as to what the sun’s height actually meant.

Penelope whipped out a pocket watch faster than Francine could even remember she had pockets, clicking it open and taking a flash of a glance at the face. “Just south of eleven, ma’am.”

A groan escaped the massive woman. She wasn’t due for her lunchtime escape from the eyes of the Barracks for well over an hour, yet. “What are the odds I could sneak back onto the grounds and start moving some of my affects to the--”

Starting to turn around so that she could peek up at the wall, Melanie’s voice died in her throat with an irritable sigh as she saw the commotion of about two dozen loiterers scattering toward the stairs, and saw who she could only imagine was Captain Grant marching down the wall waving an arm while barking almost inaudible orders and corrections. ‘Great. About to get lectured on being a distraction, I’m willing to bet,’ she thought as he waved a signal to Francine.

“We’re wanted at the wall, ma’am,” the Guardswoman said underneath her, though she was already pushing herself to stand again.

“I’d give you a lift there, but something tells me I’d get an earful,” the giant woman mumbled quietly with a smirk as the three headed off back toward the Barracks grounds.

The smirk didn’t last long, however, Captain Grant taking the clearest opportunity he had to start admonishing her before she had finished her approach. “Don’t encourage the members of the Watch to disregard their duties.”

“Sorry, sir, won’t happen again,” she said, snapping to a salute and staring him down. His sharp gaze squinted a little in suspicion at her, his mouth stammering open and closed again silently as her words hit him as a slight surprise.

“...Is it completed, then?” He asked flatly, gesturing past her with an open hand toward the tent, frowning. It had taken a few more seconds longer to even think of what to ask.

“Yes, sir, she’s a small one meant for a--”

“A simple answer is all I need,” he corrected her, loudly, and she snapped her jaw shut, eyes darting toward the roof the barracks behind him as she felt an embarrassed flush come to her cheeks. “Is there anything else you’re required to do with it?”

“I was hoping to move some of my things into the tent to get them out of--” she began, her jaw clamping shut tensely once again as his voice cut her off like a quick slash of a blade.

“No. You are not cleared to handle any of your belongings without being directly ordered.”

“Yes, sir.”

Melanie felt, plainly, by the way his eyes narrowed at her that the sun beating down on her was melting away whatever she may have had as a calm facade. Henry had warned her, time and time and time again, that her face said far too much, far too easily. 

He was right.

Captain Grant shifted his legs, broadening his stance as he adopted a much more official posture. His eyes were piercing. “Is there an issue I should be made aware of?”

“No, sir.”

There was a tense pause, and despite not caring up until now, she was suddenly extremely aware of how much she had been benefiting from the breeze in the grassy valley she had pitched her tent in. The feeling of a bead of sweat dripping from the nape of her neck down into the back of her shirt was nearly enough to send her over the edge.

His inscrutable expression continued to glare at her. ‘This must be the military bullshit Henry was always going on about,’ she thought irritably, waiting for him to say or do something. Henry had had no love for the military structure; they had talked about that more than enough back at home-- her home-- and if Captain Grant was good at teaching her anything, he was very good at teaching her what Henry might’ve had to complain about.

When she was on the verge of making a request to leave, his mouth opened to that sharp tongue again. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Nothing had ever sounded more like a trap than those words to her, in that moment. The sun beating down on her, the aggressive stare over a pointedly curious expression glaring just slightly up at her over the parapets of the Barracks wall. She stared, knowing her face was broadcasting the truth of the answer regardless of if she felt it right to say-so, and then finally decided to speak.

“Warm, sir, that’s all,” she replied quietly, her eyes breaking away to gaze toward the building across the grounds, wondering what room the council meeting was happening in. She waited for some snappy order, some underhanded remark to get made.

“If the tent no longer requires your attention, take a moment to sit in the shade.”

Melanie froze as if God himself had commanded her to. Something nice? Something almost… considerate? She was too irritable to fall for that, so she just waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Stay out of view of the building until you’re called for.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, letting her eyes meet his again as she snapped to a salute.

“Dismissed,” he said, flatly and quickly, waving with the back of his hand to relinquish her back to her other handlers as he turned to walk away. She turned equally as fast, walking toward the faintly-beaten path that took her from the barracks wall to the underside of a cliffy outcropping that gave relief from the sun at this angle.

‘Henry owes me for having to put up with Grant while he’s coasting in a dull meeting,’ she thought with a sigh as Francine, Penelope and herself sat down on the grass and tried to think of conversations to kill the time until they could rendezvous with the General.

Chapter Text

‘Melanie owes me for having to deal with this utter nonsense while she’s playing with a tent in the field,’ Henry thought, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he pretended to be looking at the page of notes in front of him. He found himself flexing his broken arm just enough that it caused him pain, keeping him focused on the task and not on the utterly monumental frustration that had been building for the last two hours.

Already today he had conceded to getting proper measurements of her, starting with her accurate height. He had bitten his tongue on that-- he had given them the accurate height of forty-five feet, he had measured her himself with the anchoring-rope from the Massengale back at their home-- no matter how much she wanted to argue that he had done it improperly somehow. They seemed to want something more scientific and specific, however, so he didn’t make a fuss.

He then conceded to a motion which allowed the Brund and the Monitor to reach out to their respective persons of knowledge to find a way to properly weigh her, though Henry was sure that would just make her feel awkward and uncomfortable.

They had gone over her recorded and estimated expenses already, as much as they could, Henry making many arguments that she hadn’t been eating as much as she should be, pushing for a slightly higher estimate as had been discussed.

He had been patient.

He had been understanding and amicable.

He was ready for the conversation to turn to her accommodations and other needs.

But it didn’t.

The air in the room shimmered like a gas pocket as soon as the rest of the council got the impression that the Brund, the Monitor, and even the Lackney were finished with their primary concerns. To put a fine point on it, it suddenly felt like ‘playtime was over’. The heads of the King’s forces were now getting their turn, and they were not wasting time.

To his immense credit, Peter seemed to have been expecting it; he seemed to sense this intense turn coming and was ready to direct the conversation as best as he could, but there was only so much discussion even he as a moderator and voice of the Coastal Watch could stifle before being called into questions of bias.

“We need to know how fast she can travel and how her stamina compares to that of our horses,” Thorne had jumped in once the three less-militant members of the council seemed satisfied.

“How much can she carry? Has she done anything of the sort beyond her own belongings, that we might have some kind of an idea of weight on?” Lt. Commander Hodge of the Navy had piped in, flipping open his own book of notes he had been ignoring so much that Henry had legitimately begun to believe it was just for show, and that the man may be illiterate.

“Reports from some of the men indicate she lifted a standard solid foundation-beam with little issue,” Thorne prattled off before Peter could redirect. That was where the real troubles began.

“To what end does ‘little issue’ mean, precisely?” Captain Hunt of the Royal Guard Patrol dug at Thorne, Hunt being the only one aside from Henry who had been taking notes, and Henry had to admit-- he had been taking many.

“Well, certainly, I was not there to witness,” Thorne blustered out in vague defense of an answer he knew was about to be unsatisfactory. “I can attempt to gather whichever members that were among the construction team to--”

“You’ve got her on the construction team already then, Martellis?” Hodge shot across the long, nearly-patchwork table they had strung together with multiple long desks that had been commandeered from the other rooms on the floor. “Dawson been losing more men to the private firms--?”

“That’s quite enough.”

Duke William’s voice was rarely heard but always obeyed, as was the nature of his station even beyond the walls of this council room. 

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Hodge said respectfully, though his body language had swiftly changed. The man’s fingers drummed quietly on the table beside him, his eyes darting awkwardly about.

Commander Peter Martellis continued to stare from beyond the head of the table. The room was practically suffocating with the increasing tensions, the obfuscated or yet-unspoken wants and desires of these other ranked officials replacing the oxygen with a vapour likely to explode. He had been respectful, as was his position, and made the efforts to look directly at the men who were speaking when it was important to impress on them that his relation to this situation was not to be forgotten.

Just as important as knowing when to look at someone when they were speaking, was the knowledge of knowing when not to look at someone when they were making antagonistic remarks.

If you had pressed him on the question, Commander Martellis likely wouldn’t have been able to tell you what Lt. Commander Hodge’s face even looked like. He hadn’t been doing a lot of looking at the man.

He took a moment, now, to clear his throat as quietly as possible and address the room for only the fourth time that day.

“To repeat for those who may need it fully clarified,” he said calmly, his eyes drifting over the attentive gazes of the Brund, the Monitor, the Lackney and the Patrol Captain. “Melanie’s position among the Eastern Coastal Watch has been that of someone who is, for one, newly recruited, and for two, recovering from injury as a result of shipwreck. What she has done, has been through volunteering and with approval from myself and the Lead Medical Officer, Corporal Ethridge. What Staff Sergeant Thorne was implying by invoking the construction corps was simply that, by the nature of the infrastructure we have needed to put in place to accommodate her, they have evidently had experience being around her.”

 Noting the unattached glances of the Duke, who was still staring sharply at the Lt. Commander as he looked at some kind of adornment on the wall, Henry, who was looking at his notes with a bitten-tongue expression, and finally Captain Tanner Cleary of the Inland Watch, who was staring sharply and pointedly out the window directly across from him, Martellis attempted to keep his own frustration from straining at his voice. “Tests regarding her strength and stamina, as were discussed this morning, will begin once we are absolutely sure she has fully recovered from her injuries. Are there any further questions regarding that particular line of concern at this time?” 

A murmur of ‘no’, ‘no, sir’, ‘not at the present’ babbled out of the bizarre peanut gallery from nearly everyone. Henry had obviously no reason to speak on it, so that didn’t cause any concern. It was Captain Cleary, however, that made Martellis feel like they were truly one spark away from catastrophe in this tiny bomb of a room.

“What was she useful for before the shipwreck?”

Captain Cleary’s voice was deep enough that it surely would rattle the pictures on the walls and the glass panes in the windows were he to ever deign to speak louder than a muted, flat growl. A man of impeccably stiff posture, he and Martellis had few meetings since either of them had attained their positions. The Commander had always been of the impression that he was secretly a statue that had come to life one day and no one bothered to ever tell it ‘no’.

He had spoken shockingly little since arriving on the grounds, simply observing with an air of casualness, almost boredom, even when he was witness to Melanie’s arrival with the rest of the troops from the Training Grounds. Martellis had been honestly impressed by his demeanor in the face of everything, and also for how early he had arrived. He seemed to understand the flow of the grounds and everything.

That was until Henry had arrived.

Henry had wasted not even two words of his breath before sharply stating to Martellis the truth of the matter; Cleary was posturing. He knew what to expect because it had been reported to him the day before by Major Dorregan, and the attitude he was presenting very much grated on Henry’s sensibilities.

This wasn’t to say much, as Cleary had changed subtly after Henry’s arrival. Peter had caught it in the quick glances, the flashes of tiny frowns. He was certain these men had never met before, though he had had no time or privacy with which to confirm that with Henry, but he had always known-- as anyone with eyes and ears and a genuine understanding of how a human face works-- that Henry instantly disliked Cleary.

“I’m sorry, Captain?”

Ah, yes. There it was. Martellis’ ears practically flinched at the sound as his eyes moved to watch carefully between Henry, who was staring daggers at Cleary with the sailor’s words still hanging in the air, and Cleary, who was watching something out the only un-shuttered window. 

Cleary’s head turned slowly and deliberately toward Henry at the other end of the table and Martellis took a moment to glance to the window himself. It was only for a second, but he saw all he needed to see-- Melanie’s head above the wall and Grant having just dismissed her, walking away. The Commander turned to watch the room once more.

“My apologies,” that quiet, deep rumble escaped Cleary in a way where it was impossible to tell if it was genuine or not. “I should have spoken to you directly. Lemuels, is it?”

“It is,” Henry agreed, and Peter could see the tell-tale sign of his old friend’s nostrils flaring as he restrained some kind of comment.

“Mr. Lemuels?”

“Mr. Henry Lemuels, if you wish to be so precise.”

In the corner of his eye, the Commander saw the Duke come to a very, very straight posture, his hands sliding silently from the top of the table and moving beneath as the exchange continued. Captain Cleary inclined his head with the confidence of someone who had already known the information he had just been given.

“Mr. Lemuels, then,” Clearly said, his eyes flicking up and down what he could see of the sailor, “you spent a matter of years with the woman. You are the… authority, to use the most apt word I can come to, on what she can and can not be expected to perform. Are you able to tell us what she was useful for before your shipwreck on these shores, or are you not?”

‘For the love of god, Lemuels,’ Peter thought, taking in a deep and steadying breath of the noxiously-tense air, closing his eyes a moment. ‘Now is not the time to fire.’

The ocean-like shine of Henry’s blue-green eyes seemed for the moment to display angry white caps as he stared the Captain down. A pause. Silence, for a blissful moment. Then, he opened his mouth. To the Commander’s relief-- and Peter’s personal relief at that-- Henry’s tongue was calm.

“All she was useful for in her own lands was to her scale,” he said with a precision that almost shocked Peter. “I could quite happily tell you that she was an artist, that she had some skill with building and repairing small items; I could tell you that she was quite skilled at rearranging the dining room kitchen and chairs, but that would be as useful to this council as if you had been in my position and told her you could rearrange furniture yourself. In the context of her land, that information is useless. Laughably so.”

If he had not been staring, Martellis was certain he would’ve missed the faint twitch of Captain Cleary’s eye before Henry continued to speak.

“If the question you actually mean to ask me is what she may have a propensity for, based on what I have known of her, then I will admit she is drawn to the likes of construction. She enjoys finding ways in that manner with which to be helpful.” 

Henry’s voice was proud; it was not hard to tell. The man had no interest in hiding it. “She would be a fantastic help, on that note,” he continued blindly, oblivious to how the air was changing yet again, “with the construction of sturdier accommodations for herself, including a more official latrine, and--”

“Propensity means very little within the confines of service to His Majesty.”

Captain Cleary’s voice had gotten slightly louder. Henry’s face fell back to a forced neutrality as that deep, rattling sound continued. “Surely, you must know that. Surely, you must be aware of what she would be useful. For.” The stressing of his words, the staccato nature of his statements; Peter followed the Duke’s subtle lead, and moved his hands to brace himself on something. “This council needs to know what she is useful for.”

“And you shall learn what she is useful for,” Henry retorted, his body maintaining an unnatural, threatening stillness as the air between the men seemed to shimmer and waver, “after she has been provided the necessary infrastructure to--”

“Why should we be focusing on further infrastructure costs for her at this time?” Hodge darted in, making almost everyone but Henry, Cleary and Martellis jump. “If we don’t have reason to believe she’ll be worth the funding--”

“She is more than useful enough to make up for the costs of lodging and necessities,” Henry said, that sharp tongue of his starting to come to life, like steel waving behind his teeth. “She--”

“Will she run border patrols, then?” Hodge asked incredulously as a faint smile tugged at the lips of Cleary. “She’ll repel invaders, is that it? Are we sending her out to perhaps combat the rampant piracy along our coasts by the Hos--”

“She is a pacifist,” Henry’s voice boomed clearly, that stillness as threatening as ever as his eyes danced between the Naval Officer and the Captain of the Inland Watch. “Her use will come fr--”

“At that size,” Captain Cleary’s voice literally did rattle the pictures on the walls this time, a man made of flint stone going up against that steel tongue, “it is impossible to be a pacifist. She has no choice but to be put to use among the forces, and you will have to come to terms with tha--”

“You’re so busy wondering how you can use her that you can’t take your heads out of your asses long enough to wonder where she’s going to need to shit, Sirs.”

The spark had flown as the men’s tempers drew close enough together, and the council exploded as Henry shoved himself to stand, his broken arm held awkwardly beside himself, his eyes the piercing tips of swords. Hodge had jumped as well at the shouting, though both Henry and the Captain-- who the Lt. Commander had evidently sided with-- were ignoring him fully as though he were a plant in the corner. 

“Henry--” Martellis uttered involuntarily to try and correct him back into his seat, the Duke offering a terse ‘gentlemen’ that went unheard among the din of offended babbling and Henry’s unrelenting need to continue speaking over it.

“What good will she be to you-- any of you-- if you will not do the most simplistic due-diligence of seeing that her most basic needs are met. Not even for her sake! For your sakes, at the bare, absolute minimum!” He shouted, gesturing toward Cleary with his open, good hand. “Her use is immeasurable, and you will see that when you finish fixating on this useless garbage and give her the opportunity to show you what she can do.”

“I suppose she’ll show us how good she is at carting you around, then?”

The room went silent, but the fire was far from out. Cleary clacked his teeth as he looked Henry up and down again from his own position, still seated. “Is her use specifically in being at your beck and call, Mr. Lemuels?”

Henry’s mouth opened as he stared, eyes darting between both of Cleary’s cold silver-ringed irises. He didn’t have the time to think of any kind of a response, to even truly process the angle at which the Captain appeared to be coming at him from before the man moved to stand, his eyes finally breaking from the sailor as he glanced with a disturbing air of leisure around the council room and those within. 

“It is Mister Lemuels, yes? That would be your title, am I correct?”

Commander Peter Martellis felt his face go cold and pale.

Cleary didn’t wait to hear a confirmation, though Thorne tried to babble one from his seat. “I was willing to humour this simply given the unconventional nature of these circumstances, but it is evident that the insistence of your presence is at best a farce, and at worst a direct insult-- my sincerest apologies to His Grace, if he was deceived or coerced to have any hand in what’s occurred here.”

“I beg your pardon--” Brund Franklin breathed in offense, shocked to have the Duke be addressed at all, let alone like this. It did nothing to deter the Captain as he continued.

“Councils of this nature fall under legal precedents set by the King, and one of the established declarations of a Council as such is that every member needs to be a ranking official of the military, the Nobility, or the Gentry, and have a specific level of renown in the case of exceptions.”

The Commander’s ears were honed intensely to Captain Cleary, already knowing what this was leading to, but not knowing how much the man was trying to stoke the flames of this room. Peter’s eyes were fixed directly on Henry, staring at him, hoping there might be some magical way to silently warn him about what was to come.

Henry’s posture was slowly relaxing, his expression still raw, still seething just below a surface that still looked notably miffed, but Peter remembered the signs. He was accepting what was about to happen as an inevitability. He was ready to take whatever blow was coming.

As Captain Cleary’s mouth opened again, turning to address everyone else in the room as he continued to speak to the sailor, the flames of Henry’s eyes told Peter the man behind them hadn’t changed so much after all; he would still, as he had always done, find a way to turn this around once the dust had settled. Once the flames were doused.

That was still a ways off yet, however.

“You do not fit any of those exceptions,” Cleary stated plainly in a way that was as soothing as pouring water on a grease fire. “More-over, you are-- to every ounce of my understanding of your history-- currently impersonating a Naval Officer.”

Colour came to the sailor’s cheeks in a brief flash, though nothing else of him changed. Mutterings from the other council members broke the tense silence, and the Duke himself frowned with an uncomfortable fidget that was most unlike him. 

Henry’s eyes locked with Cleary’s directly as the man finally turned back to him, facing him full-on. He didn’t open his mouth. There was nothing he could say.

“In light of this, I must motion to have Mister Henry Lemuels removed from this council, until such a time as he has a rank or title befitting the requirements of participating.”

Across the room from Henry, Peter stood with a tense and neutral mouth, but crestfallen eyes. The matter of Henry’s rank had been on the agenda-- they had both discussed it, they both knew it needed to be done, but it had been pushed to the side. It had been treated as a given. It had been placed on a back-burner because it was assumed to be an assured thing.

Daniel’s voice rang between his ears. ‘Don’t give them any excuse.’

“Unfortunately,” the Duke’s voice found a way in-and-of-itself to finally put out the flames of the room: by sucking all of the oxygen out of it instead. “This is true, Mr. Lemuels. I apologize for not realizing the oversight before now. As a direct relation to the King, and as the head Law-Maker and Overseer of this province as a whole, I must second the motion. Please,” he said, standing slowly and gesturing toward the door politely.

“...As you wish, Your Grace.”

Henry left the room at a calm pace, holding his broken arm against him outside of its sling, his notebook and pen in his other hand as Peter opened the door. The men did not meet eyes as Henry turned toward the end of the hall that would take him out to the Barracks wall. They didn’t need to.

Commander Peter Martellis closed the door and moved fully across the room to close the shutters to the window. Were anyone to ask, it was so that no one curious about Henry’s removal could attempt to spy within; the truth, however, was that he intended it so no one could witness what he was sure was about to be a very tense conversation between Henry and Melanie.

“Back to the proper agenda then, if we’ve no need to readjust after that unfortunate interruption,” Cleary’s deep voice rattled the glass panes behind him as Martellis moved back to the head of the table.

“...Yes,” he said after a moment of gritting his teeth. “Back to the meeting.”

Penelope was handing the reins of a freshly-saddled horse to Francine after riding back to the back entrance of the grounds from the stables. They were about ready to go intersect with the Duchess’ carriage along the road rather than continue to wait in the field, Melanie fixing the laces of her boots while she was chatting with the women.

“Was there some sort of signal we were supposed to wait for?” She asked, almost nervously. “I don’t want to overstep with the General.”

“No, ma’am,” Francine chuckled. “I imagine General Ais’lyn will be excited to know you took the initiative to head out a bit early. Pretend it’s punctuality or tactfulness-related.”

“Yes, I suppose she’d like th--” the giant woman was chuckling when the words hit her.

“Liaison on Approach,” someone up the wall was saying. She blinked, looking in through the rear gates to see no movement near the barracks building, startling a few of the men wandering past who weren’t aware she was tucked just outside the wall. Standing, Melanie turned to where he had approached them from yesterday, somewhere near the unseen bridge to the wall.

“Are they on lunch-break, ma’am?” Francine called up to her, Melanie shaking her head as she looked around.

“No lunch call…” she said slowly, quietly, watching Henry.

Her feet moved of their own volition, stepping carefully around Penelope and Francine and their horses as she took long strides along the outside of the wall. His legs were stiff, locked, and his shoulders were squared.

Something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered, ignoring the mutters of the patrolmen she had passed whose hair and clothes had been ruffled slightly in the breeze of her wake. “Is the council adjourned?”

Henry took a moment to catch his breath, slowing his pace but still moving toward where she had been originally, which just made her more concerned. As she turned to follow him, she saw the uniform of Captain Grant heading toward one of the staircases to the top of the wall from the inner grounds, on the opposite side of the rear gates from them.

“The council,” the small man said as he kept his eyes fixed at some invisible point in the distance. “Felt it necessary to have me removed for impersonating a Naval Officer.” 

The explanation did anything but soothe her worries, though she could tell from the shortness of his words that they weren’t intended to put her at ease. “You’re my liaison.”

“Liaison, as it turns out,” he replied, their march continuing, “is not a rank in and of itself that would permit me a place on the council.”

She blinked, turning to stare at him as she took comparatively slower steps. “The Commander was going to assign you a rank at the meeting, wasn’t--?”

“Well we didn’t quite get to it fast enough.”

Her hand tried to land in front of him and halt him, the angle too awkward at this specific point along the wall for her to really get her arm over the parapets, so he simply shoved it out of his way as he continued on, the giant woman’s face marred with concern and confusion.

“Are they-- do they need to vote on it? Is that what’s happening now?” She asked, lagging behind him for just a second as she let him continue to storm toward the gate.

“I sincerely doubt that,” he shot back at her, not even bothering to turn his head to call over his shoulder.

“...They’re not continuing the meeting without you, are they?” She asked, taking another long step to catch up to him, her concern moving to agitation beyond his notice.

“I see no reason why they wouldn’t,” Henry said, finally turning to look at her as they reached the section bridging over the open gates at the back. He tucked the book into the armpit of his broken arm, pointing to the tent and gesturing for a lift.

“Because that council is only permitted to discuss me and anything that would directly affect me with someone there to speak directly for me,” Melanie replied, staring at him as she came to a halt alongside the road exiting the grounds.

“Well, I’m not allowed,” he said irritably, still holding his hand out in signal for a lift.

A moment passed where she stared at him, and after a very pointed blink he realized that he would not, in fact, be getting that lift.

“Melanie,” he said, eyes closing as he let a haggard sigh escape him. He didn’t need to watch her as she ducked down to address Penelope and Francine who were still waiting for her, looking perplexed.

“Please give my apologies to the General,” she was saying below him. “I won’t be making it to lunch.”

Chapter Text

“The Training Grounds seems to be the location best suited for these tests,” Lt. Commander Hodge was saying, everyone having relaxed back into their seats to a point of near informality after the excitement had passed.

“I concur,” Monitor Jacobson chimed in, approving grumbles from Staff Sergeant Thorne echoing behind it. “Even if she should somehow overshoot the length of the grounds, whatever she would be tossing would land among trees, not causing any dama--”

They had been ignoring the faint tremors of her footsteps for a few minutes now, presuming that she was being relocated to her place behind the storage sheds once her tent was completed, or something else that Captain Grant might have been directing her to do. They had gotten fairly close some time ago, and then slowly retreated, so everyone had felt relatively at ease. 

Captain Cleary had made a derogatory remark regarding the first set of tremors likely being Henry calling for his ‘foreign steed’ to come pick him up, Hodge musing with a sloppy grin that as a sailor, he probably preferred to think of her as a vessel more than a mount. They had both been admonished directly by the Duke, who Martellis was uncomfortably aware seemed to be letting the overall council’s mood affect his stance on Melanie as a whole. The conversations that the Commander had been hoping to simply observe and judge quietly to help him plan for the next days or weeks of this chaos were being allowed, at least by the Duke’s inaction, to travel down roads he had no choice but to cut off. 

“It’s clear that he feels he has the ability to sway this council in his favour, as the one who can communicate directly with the giant,” Cleary had explained. “Without the accountability of an official rank being assigned, there isn’t enough oversight to be assured he’s acting in the best interests of His Majesty’s Forces, or the nation as a whole. Frankly, he has all the markings of a man no longer loyal to anyone but himself, and this exotic pet of his.”

“I will not tolerate,” Commander Martellis stated clearly and calmly among awkward murmurs, “any attempts to call into question the loyalty of anyone that The Eastern Coastal Watch has taken in without so much as a hair of evidence, nor will I tolerate discussion of anyone’s personage and liberty in such a way as to dehumanize them so plainly.”

Captain Cleary and the Commander had stared at each other for a long moment, Cleary breaking first in concession. “My sincerest apologies, Commander. You are right. I shouldn’t engage in such open speculation. He is necessary for communicating our intentions, after all, regardless of his quality of fit for the council.”

It had taken a moment for them to get back on track, but now as the Monitor stammered to a halt at the sensation of heavy footsteps vibrating the very chair he was sitting in, Captain Cleary-- for just the briefest moment-- had the look of a man who was filled with regret.

Even the Duke jumped as knocking rattled the shutters of the third-story windows.

“What is--”

“That can’t be--”

“Is that Lemuels?”

“Is he threatening us?”

Commander Martellis turned and walked toward the window at the center of the room, the one she had knocked at. It seemed polite enough, and it would give most everyone in the room a proper view. He was ignoring the babbling commentary of the council, some of them growing in panic as he pulled in the frame of paned glass and then pushed the wooden shutters out.

“Melanie,” he addressed her with a standard level of formality, trying his best not to react to the positively aggravated look on her face as it took up the space of the entire window. She had stooped down to get a proper look in.

“Commander,” she replied flatly, snapping to a decent salute in spite of her posture. Behind her, the members of the Watch were abuzz and orders were being directed and shouted to make up for the obvious disruption she had just caused. Behind him, the council members were whispering and muttering in everything from open offense to undisguised fear, comments about what she was doing, could the Commander speak with her, and so on.

“We’re currently in the process of a council meeting--” Martellis began to explain, folding his hands behind his back and looking proper-yet-relaxed.

“Illegally.”

“What?” Hodge spat incredulously from next to Cleary, who was so stiff he may have actually turned back to stone. Melanie’s gargantuan eyes flickered from the Commander to Hodge, and the man made a soft choking noise in surprise.

“Ms. Barnes,” the Duke called, standing from his seat and approaching the window with an air of authority. “I’m sure you misunderstand what--”

“By the laws as they have been explained to me, Your Grace,” she began with a heavy undertone to her typically bizarre rasp, “this council can not operate in any way that would affect my person without an approved representative of myself present.”

The room was in a stunned silence. Martellis had recalled the conversations he had had with Melanie and Henry about the council rather vaguely, but these details were… precise. Henry had obviously not known them this well, or he may have had a hint about what Cleary had lined up so well in order to have him removed.

A bizarre noise came from behind him, and as the Commander turned to see what may have made it, he was met by the aggravated expression that the Duke was quickly trying to get back under control.

‘General Ais’lyn,’ Martellis thought as he stepped slightly to the side to open up the floor a bit more for everyone. ‘Of course.’

“That-- yes, that is correct,” Duke William said, collecting himself and straightening his posture again. “However, as we were reminded, the laws also require the council members to all be an officer rank of Major or higher.”

There was a momentary pause as Melanie opened her mouth to reply and the Lackney’s quietly whispered comment of ‘I wasn’t aware she was fluent’ drifted through the room in the silence so loudly it may as well have been a full barrage fire. “Barring one exception,” she said, looking no less irritable about it. “Which is that I represent myself.”

There was, approximately, four seconds of total silence in the council room before utter calamity broke out. All but Thorne jumped to their feet. Arms and hands swept and pointed in every direction. Melanie’s eyes gazed casually around the room as she tipped and turned her head to try and get a solid look at everyone inside, before landing back on the equally casual face of Commander Martellis.

Her massive face shifted, her brow lifting and twitching in a way that would’ve been subtle were it not for the sheer size of her, but in light of that fact still made it difficult at first to piece together the full image, having to take it in piecemeal and assemble the expression like a puzzle. There was reluctance, there was resolve, both things tangling together, but he singled-in on what was most important in the moment; apology.

He blinked, letting his eyes stay closed as he offered an understanding nod he hoped she could pick out. This wasn’t ideal, she was likely disregarding direct orders from Captain Grant if some of the more distant shouting from beyond the window were to be a hint, but Martellis wasn’t the one who knocked these dominoes over. Neither was she. She was simply where they all came to rest, at least for the time being.

“We’d need to revisit everything we’ve done since Lemuels left,” Brund Franklin was trying to shout over the din of other people as the Commander opened his eyes again and the giant woman’s eyes took a brief detour up the face of the building outside while she waited for the cacophony to die down.

“We’d need to revisit it all, legally speaking,” the Monitor shouted back, “if his presence was sincerely against the laws.”

“I refuse to engage in a farce council,” Hodge was spitting mad. “She can’t represent herself, that’s ridiculous--”

“Surely,” Thorne was babbling, the man sweating from his position behind the table and having even pushed his chair back slightly farther to give himself even more space between himself and Melanie. “Surely there are laws against such a thing given she’s a foreigner, at the very least--?”

“She would fall then under the tenets pertaining to foreigners, in which case she would require a legal team, a liaison directly for her needs, and she would be required to be present as though this were a tribunal or court,” Captain Hunt said, his loud clear voice belaying the verbal eruption for a moment, though the confidence in his tone was betrayed by his eyes as they continued to stare at her through the large frame on the wall.

The woman locked eyes with him and nodded politely. It did little to soothe his fixation.

“We assign her a new liaison, easy as done,” Hodge stated, face flushed red as he tried to get the attention of the men in the room but finding it nearly impossible. 

“It has to be a liaison of her choosing,” Duke William and Captain Hunt corrected him in nearly perfect synchronization, the Captain deferring to Duke William with a polite wave of his hand.

“Then she should--”

“I waive my right to chosen representation and wish to advocate for myself,” she replied with such casual flatness that the Monitor openly laughed with incredulity. “I believe that is permitted under the laws, Your Grace?”

Duke William’s stoic posing was easy to see for what it truly was in a moment like this; a well practiced way of hiding the urge to stammer. More awkward seconds passed as he and the giant stared at each other. “...Correct,” he said after a moment before seeming to steel himself, those deep blue eyes flashing. “However…”

That got everyone’s attention. Melanie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and her position shifted as she adjusted the placement of her feet with a quick glance downwards. An arm moved out and a wavering set of murmurs through the councilroom-- and beyond-- bubbled as she braced herself against the face of the building itself, a hand landing against the stones between windows as she continued to bend low enough to look inside. 

“The privacy of the council, it’s members, the meetings as they are being held, and the decisions made within them are of the highest priority among the tenets-- this applies to privacy of yourself as well, within our laws and within our capabilities to accommodate it,” he said, stepping forward with a regal grace and motioning between herself and the other members of the room.

The woman, by the Commander’s best guess, was choosing actively not to respond. She was similar to Henry in that way-- she saw the blow coming, and was simply accepting it as she diverted her energy to planning next moves; farther moves.

“We can not, at this time, accommodate privacy for you in order for you to represent yourself,” the Duke said, turning back toward her in full and returning to a stoic, royal posture.

Again, the air around Commander Peter Martellis was shifting, changing. The men behind and to the side of him were growing yet more and more tense as they waited for her response. It was fascinating in a way that Peter did not have the time to appreciate-- that he did not have time to analyze and try to understand-- the way her eyes gave everything away. They twitched and flicked and danced and he was sure if he looked beyond the dim and warped reflections against her pupils that he would see gears in motion behind them.

“May I request permission to share my thoughts openly, Commander?”

Peter’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the brim of his hat, though the lower half of his face was able to retain some level of professionalism despite the surprise of the question. “Granted on the caveat of decorum,” he replied.

“Always, sir,” she replied in quiet submission before her eyes began to wander left to right and back again. “My presumption is that that would mean that the council meetings would cease until such a time as my privacy could be accommodated, is that correct, sirs?”

An awkward pause lingered before the Duke graciously stepped in to answer for the council in full. “That is correct.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied politely. “I would assume then, as well, that no motions could be made regarding a possible way to solve the issue of accommodation without approval from the council, which would be rendered unable to operate without said accommodation, leaving us in a stalemate. Do I have that correct as well, sirs?”

“This is ridiculous,” Hodge hissed, collapsing back into his chair, the Brund and the Lackney following suit slowly. “Hypotheticals, and other nonsen--”

“It’s hardly a hypothetical if we’re standing at the precipice of it,” she retorted, flustering the man further and causing more awkward mumbles and mutterings that were growing increasingly irritated. She sighed, a bit too loudly to be for show. “The matter of my liaison’s rank… that’s a matter requiring council approval, then?”

“It is,” the Duke interjected before Hodge could make any other escalating remarks.

Melanie nodded, her eyes darting to the face of the building again as her lips closed in a tense line, a deep breath rushing into her nose with an unignorable noise. She paused, thinking deeply before turning back to the room. “Then I have to ask what options we have to avoid such a stalemate.”

When the words rang around the room in their deep, carrying bass tones, Martellis had to admit it was fully beyond his notice that he hadn’t heard anything he could recall from Captain Cleary since the knock on the window.

“You would need to choose another liaison--” he began, hardly flinching in the face of interruption.

“Temporarily.” She was making a statement, not asking.

“Of course,” he replied, his demeanour different enough that even Hodge seemed to be eyeing him curiously. “A temporary liaison, one who is a ranked officer, until perhaps such a time as Mr. Lemuels would be granted an appropriate position of his own.”

“I could choose among any of the ranked officers I’m familiar with, then?” She asked, her brown-green irises twisting, writhing as her pupils flicked up and down this still-standing man on the other side of the table.

“A ranked officer, in this case,” the deep bass voice clarified with a tone that seemed all-too-polite to be coming from the Captain, “meaning someone ranked as Major or higher.”

“Thank you…” she drawled, her face asking the question for her as her eyes narrowed and her head tilted curiously.

“Captain Cleary of the Inland Watch.”

“Thank you, Captain Cleary.”

“Will you be choosing a temporary liaison?” Thorne asked from his position against the far wall.

“I have little choice in that matter at the moment, sir,” she replied, bitingly polite.

“The council will wait until you’ve made a decision,” the Duke announced after a momentary pause, her face again loudly displaying her displeasure at the situation as a whole.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It shouldn’t be long.”

She straightened herself with a heavily restrained grunt of effort, the building shaking faintly from the weight of her pushing herself off of it with a hand. “Commander,” she said with a nod as he moved toward the window.

He saluted her, the woman saluting back as she pointedly continued to ignore the distant calls and shouts, now clearly of her name and blatantly in Daniel’s voice. She reached forward to get the window shutters, the Commander grabbing the metal-framed glass.

The room was devoid of sunlight once more as they felt her footsteps head toward the back of the grounds again, the rumbling of her voice through the walls of ‘clear’ and vague apologies fading with her presence.

“...At any point,” Hodge’s voice snapped first as Commander Martellis and Duke William returned to their spots at the head and the right-hand seat of the table, “was anyone planning to mention that the woman was-- is--”

He stammered in frustration, the colour still flooding his cheeks as he fidgeted from embarrassment, the other members taking their seats finally.

“Well, I stated that there were no issues in regards to communication in the documents I had compiled,” Thorne blustered, his chair scraping loudly as he returned to his own position at the table. “I’m curious as to what you feel that meant, precisely, Lieutenant Commander.”

William and Martellis shared glances. Thorne was, if nothing else-- and there wasn’t much else, to be sure-- a man who could dodge out of a lot of pointed accusations toward his… insufficient work ethic and capabilities.

“You and I, Staff Sergeant,” Hodge nearly growled, “clearly have very different ideas of what constitutes an issue.”

“Settle, gentlemen,” Cleary said from between the two men, a long breath leaving him and making him look practically relaxed.

Peter was instantly suspicious of his relief.

“Enjoy the break while we have it,” that deep voice continued, reopening his own notes and beginning to mark away on the papers he had already written on. “We’ll need to revisit all of the items from this morning, likely, though I suspect we’ll have a significantly easier time as such this time around.”

“Oh?” Lackney Molligue piped up, visibly pale and faintly shaking still from what he had just had to endure. “What, pray tell, would cause you to suspect that?”

Cleary’s mouth opened and his tongue ran over his teeth quickly, eyes landing on the Commander with an awkward jerk of his head before they turned to address the Lackney directly. “...Given the nature of The Coastal Watch’s ranks at present, I feel confident in positing that our temporary replacement would be none other than Captain Grant. Quite a relief, indeed, if his record truly precedes him.”

“Captain Grant would be an excellent addition to this council, temporarily or otherwise,” Duke William agreed.

“Yes, Grant will do well here. He’s a no-nonsense man, much like myself,” Thorne joined.

Peter wondered for a moment if his eyes honestly could fire daggers as he watched the Captain continue to chatter with the other members of the council, his own ears temporarily deaf to the blathering, incessant pedantries for a moment. That’s what this was all about. That was the goal of this--

Cleary staring openly out the window earlier, watching Melanie. He was watching Daniel. Why was he fixated on Daniel? What had he heard about Captain Grant? Daniel’s record was good, yes, but the Coastal Watch had not seen much action since he had attained rank. A few minor skirmishes that occurred beyond the reach of the Navy, but nothing of note. 

The last incident or mission that would’ve even left a trail that could wind up before the eyes of the Inland Watch was over four years ago, a crossover mission with the Navy, that--

Peter’s eyes closed as he swallowed bile, thanking the stars for the miracle that he didn’t openly shudder at the memory. Cleary either knew of the incident, or was bluffing; either way, whatever impression he had of Daniel was causing the man to be dragged into the last place on earth he would want to be-- and the last place on earth Peter wanted him to be.

Minutes passed, the members of the council revisiting every point and motion that had been brought up since the start of the day. Discussions of lunch became a focus as the first call to lunch grew more and more imminent. Cleary was growing, whether he intended it or not, visibly more proud of himself.

Eventually, a knock came at the door, and the voice outside requested permission to enter and announce the member to the council.

“A bit showy for what I was expecting of Grant,” Cleary muttered smugly as Commander Martellis called his permission to the voice beyond the door.

The unfamiliar voice.

The female voice.

No one bothered to stand when it was still believed it would just be Grant entering the room.

Then, the sound of the chairs shooting backwards as all feet landed firmly on the ground and men shot up like a fire had been lit under them nearly drowned out the sound of the Noble Guardswoman announcing the entrance of Her Grace, Duchess Ais’lyn Lostelle Vogunti, of the Verdandi Province.

Lieutenant General of His Majesty’s Eastern Coastal Watch.

Her black and gold coat, adorned with the rank badges, pins of military acknowledgement, rosettes and broaches displaying her position as an Officer and as a member of the Nobility openly, was worn around her shoulders like a cape as she entered with a smile so sweet it could kill a man if she so chose to. A riding outfit of honey-brown was beneath it, her boots already stained from horseback adventures of some kind today.

“Your Grace.”

“Ma’am.”

“General, a pleasure and a surprise--”

“Good day to you, gentlemen,” she said loudly, sharply, her green eyes blazing as she looked into the pupils of every single man in the room. “Have your seats, please. I understand there’s much for us to discuss before we’ll be relieving for lunch due to a most egregious oversight, and I’ll admit that I’m a bit miffed at having to change my own plans for luncheon today as a result of it.”

Mouths hung open in surprise and concern, eyes glancing from one fellow councilman to the next as they lowered themselves slowly back to position, all of them confused.

All of them, save for Peter Martellis, and Duke William, who knew the General in their varying ways to be exactly the kind of person who would seemingly magically appear at a moment like this.

“Darling,” William intoned warningly.

“Dearest,” Ais’lyn replied with a saccharin smile that ignored any attempt to rein her in.

The Commander cleared his throat, looking around the room. “Thank you for joining us on such short notice, General…”

Chapter Text

Second Lieutenant Edmund Miller took his horse down the sloping back road to the barracks, heading for the dome-ish gray and yellow tent with pockets full of notes. Notes on notes on notes.

The mood of the council as they had sat in the mess hall-- two hours late for the final lunch call-- was… tense at best, Commander Martellis and the Duke frequently needing to remind everyone that discussions were to be saved for private quarters and to remain confidential.

…And to remain civil, in the case of some.

Edmund had originally gone to the mess hall to catch up with the Commander, his pockets full of notes then to deliver to him either to communicate something from Captain Grant, or to try and pass on to other members of the council from their respective entourages, who had started to grow exceedingly concerned after the ‘giant’ interruption just before lunch.

Now Miller was riding with the notes Grant had sent him with originally, with additional replies and scribbles added, and several notes of the Commander’s own. He had already returned sealed notes to the members of the Inland Watch, the Navy, the Noble Guard, and the aides of all three bureaucrats. He hadn’t walked this much of the barracks, this many times in a day since he first showed up here.

To Miller, this was a fun day. The kind of day filled with lots of his favourite little highlights.

As eyes landed on him on his approach, he got to see one of those favourite little highlights again: stressed, tired, irritated faces lighting up at the sight of him.

“Messages for you, Captain,” Ed called as he left the horse at the new hitching post.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he replied, briefly more at ease as he was handed a stack of awkwardly folded notes out of Miller’s pockets.

“Are they all from Peter?” Henry asked, taking a few steps closer to Daniel out of curiosity.

“All these are from the Commander sir, yes,” Miller confirmed with a nod. “Couple of other notes already delivered between the councilmembers and their assistants and such.”

“I didn’t realize they had other people with them,” Melanie said as she finished walking over from the construction setup and knelt down, grinning. “God I’ve missed you today, Ed.”

“Decorum,” Captain Grant dully intoned from beneath her, his eyes on the notes as he flicked through them, handing one to Henry directly.

“Feelin’s mutual, ma’am!” Miller shouted up at the giant woman, grinning back with his hands on his hips. “And of course they’ve got folks to attend to ‘em, they’ve been mostly keeping to their li’l pairs and stuff around the grounds. They were up on the wall by the gates when you were speakin’ with the council.”

“Oh, great,” she groaned, her face becoming worried as she turned her eyes to the wall above, unable to make out any specific uniforms from here.

“Mind,” Henry drawled in correction, reading the small note in his good hand almost absentmindedly. 

“Sorry,” she replied, her hand moving to rest next to him out of habit, the blue-clad man swinging his leg out to tap it lightly with a boot. Miller and Grant both watched the interaction in opposite varieties of fascination, the two strangers more focused on themselves and each other to notice the audience. “Good news?” Melanie asked with a heavy tone of knowing it wouldn’t be.

“Have to keep the damn uniform on,” Henry muttered. “Other than that, expect a briefing for all three of us as soon as council lets out today, which could be anytime between dinner call and next week by the sounds of things.”

“Decorum,” Grant drawled tiredly again, still focusing on note after note after note. “Lieutenant Miller, if you’re not needed for anything drastic immediately, you can join up with the construction crew.”

Edmund beamed, glancing past Melanie’s giant legs to see the scaffolding structure going up just beyond the cables to her tent. “Yes sir, happy to help!”

“Am I allowed to--” Melanie began to ask, hopefully, as Grant finished the pile of notes and started to flip through the stack again.

“No,” he said bluntly, not bothering to look up at her. “Continue as you were, no orders.”

“I can help with something, sir,” she pleaded quietly, Grant huffing loudly.

“No, my orders are to give you no orders,” he snapped, turning his head to shoot her an icy glare before looking away again. She frowned once his eyes were down, noting how much more tense his shoulders got.

“What?” Henry asked in confusion, hand reaching for Daniel’s notes. “That’s doesn’t--”

“She’s a matter of discussion for the council, still,” Grant cut him off, slapping his hand with the stack of loose paper. “Commander says to keep her idle but ready.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing toward Daniel’s hard, steely gaze. “Ready for wha--?”

Grant’s eyes only got more intense. “He says in case the council ‘needs her involvement again’.”

“Ah.” 

“He didn’t happen to mention how likely that might be, did he?” Melanie asked, adding a soft ‘sir’ to the end.

“Any information that is pertinent to you will be given to you,” he replied, growing further irritated. “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” she said as politely as she could, though Henry bristled a little more toward Daniel’s attitude at the sound of her sigh.

“C’mon ma’am,” Miller said brightly, catching all three of their attentions again as he closed the gap between him and her hand, tapping it with his boot. “You can make sure I don’t get lost on the way to the construction.”

“Am I trained enough for that?” She asked with a smirk, nudging him back with her pinky. 

Daniel shuddered once she had stood and turned to walk with Miller to the other side of the tent, reaching up to scratch at his hair idly just below the brim of his hat while eyes scanned one of the notes again.

“Bothers you that much, then?”

He practically jumped at the sound of Henry’s voice, frowning as he looked up to see the man still there with him; staring with his painfully curious expression. “What are you talking about?” He snapped bitterly, rolling his shoulders to loosen them.

“She’s just trying to help, Daniel,” Henry stressed quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “You could treat her--”

“As you just saw,” the firm and official voice of the Captain interrupted the man. “I can speak to her and perform my duties without the aid of a Liaison. You’re dismissed.”

“Daniel--”

“Don’t make me say it again, Lemuels.”

Henry gave an admittedly sloppy salute before turning and walking after Miller and the giant woman who had gone ahead of him, muttering under his breath. Grant’s teeth slid back and forth over each other as he restrained a frustrated noise. Between the mysterious appearance of the General, Henry’s sudden ousting from the council, and now notes upon notes from Peter detailing everything as vaguely as possible, the Captain couldn’t help but feel like he was on the verge of being pushed into the dark-- intentionally or otherwise.

This feeling only got stronger as the day went on, the first dinner call sounding with no sign of life from the council’s chambers, beyond the occasional muffled bickering the trusted guards were privy to outside of the doors. He had intercepted the General’s assistant Theresa Jarvis at the top of the wall-stairs to the back gate, seeing her somehow with a note from Ais’lyn despite the alleged closed-door policy, and assumed the note was for him. 

He was informed in the Noble Politeness that the note was actually for Melanie, care of her liaison, and Grant was absolutely certain then that he’d have no hair left by the end of the week.

After catching one of the Naval lieutenants breaking out a spyglass to watch Theresa on her travels to that ridiculous tent, Daniel made sure orders were run down to that entire cluster of frustration to remind them that they were to remain on best decorum in front of the other branches. It seemed to get the point across. If any conversation happened, it was short and-- hopefully-- unreadable from a distance.

Word rattled its way out of the barracks building and to him on the grounds somewhere midway through the final dinner call that the council had adjourned, though no one was clear on if it was for the day or simply for dinner. If he had been a man of lesser professionalism, when he made it to the mess hall he would’ve kicked the doors open in his rush to enter.

“Please excuse me, gentlemen. Your Graces. I must be debriefed on the day,” Commander Martellis said, leaving the short line to get food and heading out the doors with Daniel.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Peter’s voice was tired, and he was clipping his words tensely as he accepted a mug of soup from Fuller as the man quietly popped out the kitchen’s side door to hand it to him. It was a Martellis practice; when busy, drink your dinner. For most people that meant a stiff drink. Daniel fought a faint smile at the idea that Peter had never been that kind of man.

“You seem relieved to see me, which makes me intensely worried,” the blunt words of his Commander coming before a quiet sigh while they tucked themselves quietly around a corner with very few windows, none of which should be occupied this time of day. 

“Been inventing new disasters in my head to try and prevent today in your absence,” the Captain replied plainly. “The incident before lunch was something I feel I should’ve accounted for and I sincerely apologize for--”

A hand gripped his upper arm, cutting the Captain off as the Commander’s other hand swept up to practically knock the hat off of his own head, a red line ringing from temple to temple. “That was the thing that contributed the least to my headaches today, I’m happy neither of us thought to mitigate it prematurely.”

Daniel’s hands swept to Peter’s chest and shoulder in concern, the man seeming though he would collapse at the gentlest breeze from exhaustion. A nearly bitter laugh left him as the tension continued to drop from every part of his body in rusty jerks of motion. “King’s sake, Peter,” Daniel gasped, getting a clear look at his face. “You’ll have no teeth left if you lock your jaws like that. Stars, I knew it’d be bad, but--”

“Not even the half of it,” Peter said, shaking his head and standing back up if only to shake himself out more before another swig of soup. “Honestly, I’m glad we have this moment now. I can’t speak on it in detail until later but I believe today’s maneuver with Henry was an attempt to scheme you into the council.”

“Thorne is barking up the wrong tree--” the blonde man started to protest, his irritation bubbling up again easily from its place barely beneath the surface.

“Cleary.”

“Who?”

“Captain Cleary.”

The two men stared at each other. Peter: concerned and tired. Daniel: confused and irritated. This moment could’ve happened a thousand times between right now, and the moment these men had met. A bubble of time where the only thing that ever changed was the number of wrinkles, grey hairs, or amount of beard either of them had at any moment.

“Why,” Daniel breathed darkly, his hat almost leaping off of his head as he reached for it, jamming it under an arm, “would Captain Cleary want another member of the Coastal Watch on the council?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” Peter sighed, using a hand to guide Daniel backwards to the wall if only so he could lean on it beside him, drinking more soup. “He wants you.”

“How does he even know who I am?” He hissed in reply, brow knitting so tightly together his skull was likely to get narrower as a result.

Shrugging, Peter leaned his head against the stones. “Not the foggiest. Genuinely was hoping you might know, at this juncture.”

“Never met the man before, only heard of him in reports and news briefings, essentially,” he rattled off, crossing his arms and pressing his back firmly to the wall. There was a distinct smell of burnt tobacco and he tried not to focus on how much ash just got onto his coat from previously extinguished cigarettes. “He didn’t give you any hints?”

“None,” Peter admitted quietly. “Just that your reputation seemed to precede you.”

“Reputation.” The word spat out of him mockingly. “Nothing I’d be known for unless the Inland Watch is overly interested in the rare pirate skirmish near the barrier stones.”

“...There’s one thing.”

A thin blonde eyebrow perked up over a very skeptical turn of lips, Daniel looking at Peter out of the corner of an eye, almost sizing the man up. Commander Peter Martellis was sagging with exhaustion, but his shoulders carried a tension that Captain Daniel Grant had known for what may as well have been the entirety of his life. “...Oh?”

Peter’s mouth opened like he was ready to fire a cannon, but his throat obviously didn’t want to arm the gun. The man, with his silver-stained dark hair, fidgeted with a frown. “...Four years ago,” he said after a pause filled only with the bustling sounds of a busy barracks around them. “A volunteer mission, mixed-forces with the Navy past the southern coast. We--”

“The hunt,” Daniel barely got the words out on what little air he was letting escape him. He pushed off the wall enough to roll onto his shoulder, facing Peter so directly and so closely he could practically only see the man’s eyes. “That mission was a failure, we only pulled one body, why would he--”

“Henry stated it outright this morning,” Peter cut him off, “Cleary sent Dorregan here yesterday to get as much information as possible so he could be more prepared than everyone else for today. If he did any research on--”

“He’d have found it.”

A fist smacked sideways into the coarse brick as the Captain stormed away from the building, feeling as aggravated as he did the morning the Duke and Duchess arrived. He was too much in the dark, too much a pawn and not a player in whatever game was happening, to be remotely close to happy.

“Bastard.”

“Mind,” Peter hushed him quietly.

“Don’t start with that,” he retorted, pointing a finger as the Commander moved to fix his hair, standing from the wall. “You sound like Lemuels talking to her.”

The confused look on Peter’s face went unnoticed as Daniel pressed on, stomping in a small circle. “What’s he even playing at? What would he have seen in that, that would make him try to drag me into this nonsense?”

“Again,” the Commander sighed, placing his hat back on. “Not the foggiest. I need to get back so we can clear up with dinner, get to our first actionables, and then send everyone off.”

“Oh.” The words had hit Daniel like a firm tap on his shoulder, reminding him of something. “So you’re fully adjourned for the day then?”

“Damn near about. We need to measure her,” Peter flashed him a tired look. “That should be the easiest part of the day, honestly.”

Captain Grant fixed his hat back on over a bewildered stare. “It took you nine hours to--?”

“It’s been a day, Captain. Let’s not extend it any further.”

Chapter Text

“She’s taking this rather well,” the Duchess breathed from beside Henry, the two of them on the opposite side of the giant woman from most of the other council members. Captain Hunt of the Noble Guard was also nearby, but giving notable distance between himself and the Giant still. He at least seemed respectful about it. The Lackney, meanwhile, had been looking fit to throw himself from the parapets if Melanie so much as looked at him since they all moved to position.

There had been, for reasons which none of the members of the military branches could seem to even collectively understand, an argument begun by the Brund and the Monitor about whether they should be measuring her with the yard-rope’s tail at her feet or her head. A solid five minutes or more wasted on that, ending with deciding simply to measure her twice to keep the two men happy. 

Dawson had, thankfully, dealt with this kind of nonsense before in terms of getting ‘official and most accurate heights of uniquely shaped structures’ and had taken to the job of instructing Melanie through most of the movements himself. The rope was flagged every five yards, and she simply had to thread one of the end-knots into a thin slit that had been cut in a plank of wood, and hold the board flat to the top of her head. The rope would drop down from over the front of her without running into anything that would cause any amount of interference with the measurement.

“I’ve subjected her to this once before,” Henry muttered back to Ais’lyn, standing in as proper a posture as he could with one arm in a sling. “The board is a smart move, honestly. I’ll probably have been off by a small amount.”

The call carried up to them from Private Peters below, one of the regular construction team members who was also an initial member of the Brigade-- though Henry was loath to call it that, still-- and repeated several times by other members to ensure all at the wall got the number.

“Fifty-one feet and ten and one-half inches!”

The sailor blinked, his brow furrowing. He was opening his mouth to make a comment on it when he caught the nearest corner of the giant woman’s mouth twitching, trying to fight back a cocky smile. She had argued with him during his attempt to measure her that he had missed a length or two while counting his own lead-line, and insisted on referring to herself as taller.

Next to him, Ais’lyn was flipping open a small notebook she had fished out from the inside of her riding coat, making a quick note of something on a page. Henry went faintly red at the amused look she shot at him, turning his attention back toward the second measurement, noting the General was kind enough not to say anything about the noted discrepancy in his numbers.

“Fifty-one feet and eight inches!” the calls came up, Dawson quick to jump in before there was any kind of a recount requested.

“Well within the margins for natural discrepancy at that size,” he said bluntly. “Take whichever you like or average between.”

Henry stiffened as Ais’lyn’s voice entered his ear quietly, notably light and restraining a chuckle. “She is wearing her boots, do you suppose--”

“General,” Henry breathed, almost pleading. Of course the soles of her boots wouldn’t account for a full fathom of height. “She’ll be unlivable now. Don’t encourage it.”

Ais’lyn laughed brightly as she turned away, moving to speak with Captain Hunt in hushed tones. Dawson directed Melanie through helping them get measurements across her shoulders, those numbers not nearly as devastating to Henry, who had honestly never thought of getting anything more than how tall she was.

‘I’m sure there will be comments at some point that they wished a scientist had met her instead,’ he thought bitterly. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Dawson, your work today is appreciated,” Commander Martellis said from the other side of the giant woman, catching everyone’s attention and cutting out a lot of the peanut gallery’s babble. “You’re all dismi--”

“Commander,” Brund Franklin piped up immediately. “Shouldn’t we get a full set of measurem--”

“Is that necessary?” Henry shot across as Melanie turned to look at the man directly, her shoulders relaxing as her liaison had jumped in to handle it.

“Well, if we--” the Brund began with a furrowed brow, having stepped back with several others at the giant’s rapid spin.

“Those will be taken in private, and as they are needed, Honourable Brund.”

Ais’lyn’s voice was clear enough that chatter even further down in the grounds below seemed to die for a moment. “We’ve been here quite long enough today,” she added a bit more cooly. “Anything a full set of measurements would need to be used for is a matter for council proceedings and approvals tomorrow. Are there any other items we need to clear from our list from today, in the meantime? Or can we all go to our respective homes for the evening?”

Commander Martellis gave, in Henry’s opinion, the calmest and politest stare of ‘if anyone disagrees you’ll be shot’ for a full pan of the gathered members on the wall before nodding and addressing Dawson directly. “All dismissed. Lieutenant, you have clearance to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” Dawson replied with a sharp salute, the members of the Watch all following suit. The Construction Lead began immediately calling orders down and over the wall as the council members began to disperse and head for the stairwells, the Barracks grounds quickly resuming its typical bustling state.

“Orders, sir?” Henry asked on a quick approach to Peter as Melanie turned an ear vaguely toward them, her eyes seemingly on the construction crew members coiling the yard rope near her feet. 

Peter seemed either not to notice, or was too tired to correct her if it was an issue. “Go with Captain Grant and Melanie and meet me at her tent for debrief in half an hour. I have to see off as many of the council members as I can.”

Henry frowned, glancing quickly between him and Melanie. The tent was being suggested to try and keep their conversation private and still include the giant woman, he knew that, but the last thing he wanted was to have Peter running around the grounds even more after the day-- or week-- he’d already had. He had also been handed a note from Theresa stating the General’s desire to still have some form of a private conversation with Melanie once this was all said and done for the day.

“Sir,” he said, taking a step closer to the Commander. “I believe I can be debriefed and pass any relevant information along to her, should it be easier and more beneficial for privacy to conduct that conversation in the Barracks.”

There was a vague inclination of Melanie’s head as the giant woman acknowledged the plan, and she stooped down carefully below the edge of the wall to hand back the board of wood she’d been holding. Peter took a tired moment for himself before inclining his head in a more pointed motion and let out a very quiet sigh. “Yes, that would be appreciated. Yourself and the Captain should meet me in my office, then.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said, snapping to salute and offering an apologetic smile. When he turned to locate Daniel among the rest of the gathered people on the wall, he spied Ais’lyn sending Theresa off toward the stairs with another note and approaching Duke William alongside Captain Hunt. He wouldn’t need to stay and direct Melanie, the Duchess apparently already had that well in hand.

“Peter’s in the worst imaginable situation,” Henry said once he was sure there was no one near enough to hear them speaking.

“He needs you both to stop causing problems,” Daniel remarked from a few steps behind him as he took his time on the stairs toward the top floor of the barracks.

“He needs a nap,” he retorted, his hip clicking as he tried to turn and look at the man.

“Good luck,” Daniel muttered.

“Same to you.”

“What happened today--”

“Can we talk about this in the office?” He snapped, pausing with a firm grip on the rail to fully spin and lock eyes. “You had no interest in being conversational about this earlier, so--”

“I was doing my job, earlier.” Daniel’s eyes were always sharp, and Henry tried to remember the last time they may have ever glazed over or softened. He could think of none. “I can’t react to a situation like that as it pertains to the involvement of higher-ranked officials and members of the--”

“Oh my god,” the sailor groaned, launching himself up the stairs again. As they neared the top floor landing, Henry’s hip starting to click more from all of the climbing, he couldn’t help but vent the steam that had been building. “How is it that I was gone for half the time but changed more than twice as much?”

Daniel shook his head in surprise, coming to a halt with a hand on the railing. “What are you on about, Lemuels?”

“You’ve had four years, I’ve had two, how come you’ve not even so much as changed your hair?” Henry snapped, winding up on the landing and spinning around to stare at him pointedly. “And given the circumstances that the council so politely brought up today, best to call me by my name as I don’t even know if I still count as honourably enlisted.”

“Don’t talk about that,” Daniel breathed, launching up the stairs to close the gap between the two of them.

“It’s true!” Henry replied, almost cockily in his indignation. “They think I’m impersonating a--”

“Not that, you idiot,” Daniel hissed, grabbing at the sailor’s shoulders and shoving him back only enough that he could open the door and peek through the crack to see if there was anyone doing patrols in the hall. He turned back to see Henry’s half-startled face before it turned into annoyance and his hand came up to swat Daniel’s away. “Don’t talk about that… anomaly outside of the four of us who know.”

He had a mind to ask. He had a mind to just blurt out to Daniel and demand why, of all people, Daniel was concerned about that specific nonsense. He hadn’t even weighed the mere idea that any of the three other men would’ve concerned themselves with the odd difference, and had he thought of it at all he would have simply assumed Daniel thought he was confused or lying, or somehow both at once. The moment didn’t lend itself enough time for him to voice it though and his old friend pushed his way through the door and marched down the hall, as proper in posture as ever, and the sailor trailed behind him to the Commander’s highest office. 

Commander Peter Martellis could remember a time, not all that long ago, when the walk to his Commander’s Quarters would’ve been a relief unto itself. When his body and mind, as tired as they were now, would begin to relax and ease gently into a feeling of safety, of peace at the mere sight of the gleaming doorknob in the center of the long hall. 

It wouldn’t even have mattered that the sun was still well up and pounding through the barrack’s windows. This office and his attached bedroom and everything else… it all used to be a safe-haven for him, any time of any day. He could remember when he was first able to move his things into it, officially. When he had taken over in the absence of the Lt. General after her union to the Duke. When ‘Commander’ really did become the position of Command.

The quiet of that room, the stillness… it calmed his mind and his heart both.

Or it used to.

As he came to a stop outside of it, knowing what-- and who-- was waiting for him inside, the quiet and stillness that emanated from it would have been nearly threatening. Suspicious at the very least. It would have been, anyway, if it wasn’t instead just utterly exhausting to him.

“Commander,” the voices greeted him quietly, tensely, as he opened the door and entered, offering the extremely well-practiced salute before waving to the men to sit back down. 

“Captain, Henry,” he greeted them back, his eyes looking more at the floor and the chair behind his desk than at either of the men who were sitting as far as apart as they could’ve managed to get the chairs without bypassing either end of the desk completely.

They allowed him to settle. They were gracious enough for that. His and Grant’s hats hit the top of the desk at the same time, Henry’s hat long handed off to someone else after his ejection from the council meeting. Probably for the best. “Today,” he began after a moment of letting his weight sink into the leather-cushioned chair, “could have gone better.”

Their silence as they nodded said more than enough, and he let himself continue. “Henry, I would like to apologize for how everything transpired today.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Peter,” Henry offered with genuine sympathy for the man. “It wasn’t your machinations and we had little reason to believe it would play out as such. Had we known, we could’ve pushed the appointment higher on the agenda, I simply feel bad that you’re dealing with the fallout.”

Peter shook his head. “I appreciate the concern, but overall… I feel this will work in our favour. As hard as that may be to believe.”

Daniel’s skeptical glare and Henry’s eyebrows attempting to touch the ceiling implied that it was, in fact, hard to believe.

“...Commander?” Daniel prompted quietly, as polite a way of asking ‘what the hell do you mean by that’ as he was capable of.

“The Duchess’s presence was obviously not what anyone in that room was anticipating, least of all the Duke,” Peter said, much more frankly than he normally would’ve allowed himself. “Her energy, I feel, is absolutely necessary for us to keep control of what’s happening in the early parts of this situation. She also, though obviously it must remain confidential in specific details, is pushing very hard in directions that very much benefit us.” His eyes moved to lock with Henry’s, inclining his head. “Infrastructure is foremost on her mind, I thought it would relieve you at least a little to know.”

“Very glad to hear it, honestly,” the man muttered in reply, moving to get his broken arm out of the sling and relax more in his seat. The Captain, on the other hand, was as rigid as ever.

“That seems early,” he noted tersely.

“It is,” Martellis replied with a quiet sigh, turning to him. “But it’s setting the tone and the points of control for The Watch. I’ll be honest… I wasn’t expecting such an open alliance of sorts to spring up between Hodge and Cleary this quickly.”

“Do we have reason to believe they’ve been strategizing?” Grant asked.

“Not before today, I feel,” Martellis replied, Henry nodding and muttering agreement. “After today? I worry they will be. They have… particular concerns, and that’s something I wished to brief you about directly.”

“Oh?” Henry asked, leaning forward again with interest as he was addressed more directly.

“It will be something of a show of force, I worry, but despite her attempts to push it off, I believe the Lt. General will have to sit back with myself to watch them drag you in for an interrogation of some sort tomorrow, as Liaison.”

Peter’s eyebrows took a turn at reaching for the ceiling as Henry flashed him an almost dull, bored look. “Not an original idea, but I shouldn’t imply I expected one. I suppose you can’t tell me if it’s regarding her… physiology or her personality, to put it politely, can you?”

The confusion that washed over Peter was so intense he worried he had misheard something, but even Daniel’s expression was one of confusion-bordering-on-concern. “...No, I unfortunately can’t tell you that,” he said after a moment, simply growing more uncomfortable as the sailor gave a vaguely aggravated huff.

“...I’ll warn her, if she hasn’t been expecting it already,” he half-muttered. “I suppose it would be foolish not to expect this entire sham to turn into an excuse to call my position of Liaison into question entirely?”

“I was, in all honesty, about to agree with you,” Daniel said, finally bothering to turn and look at him just barely out of one eye. “But they had to deal with her directly today. Surely they can’t possibly have a volunteer to take your place.”

Peter’s voice snapped across the two of them with a hardness that came entirely from tiredness as he saw Henry’s hackles go up so fast the man’s hair practically stood straight up. “Elaborate,” he said, gesturing to Daniel and hoping he’d not take the opportunity to encourage any more fires in this damnable building today.

“What’s there to elaborate on?” The man cut back flatly. “They had made a single move today she didn’t agree with and she went practically through the wall at them.”

“Captain.”

Henry watched something flash over Daniel like someone had shone a light directly into his eyes, the man flinching and grimacing, melting into a wholly different person. “Apologies, Commander,” he offered respectfully. It put Henry at ease, despite the offense the man’s words had caused, to see that this specific arrangement of ranks had somehow enhanced the two’s friendship to something workable, in his opinion.

“I spoke carelessly,” Daniel continued, evidently moving past the sting of correction gracefully. “I just mean to say that it was put on display, quite plainly, that Lemuels’ position is not just important-- it’s necessary to them that he be in it, or they’ll have no grips at all.”

“She was, to make it extremely clear,” Peter said after a heavy pause passed between the three, “extremely respectful to myself and the Duke, and was even respectful to Captain Cleary.”

“Respect isn’t what they want,” Daniel replied darkly. “Subservience is what they’re looking for, and if there’s any chance of that, it’s very blatantly through him.”

“She isn’t subservient,” Henry snapped, Peter trying to gesture with an open palm to signal him to reel it back in. “There’s respect in what we--”

“Lemuels shut up a moment,” Daniel snapped back, turning his head to fully lock eyes with the man. Peter’s open palm redirected to his face as he let out a soft groan to himself. “With all respect to the Commander, I don’t care what’s between the two of you.”

“You don’t care about much as it pertains to any reality.” Henry’s tongue was cutting again, that sharpness from earlier coming back easily. “There’s no reason why we can’t behave and continue as we have been.”

“You need to make her play subservient to you-- not fully, not dramatically. Hint at it, do whatever, but for the King’s sake you unfathomable moron, do not let her look like she is in control.”

“To what end, Daniel?!” Henry shouted, slamming his good hand on Peter’s desk. “To what end is that charade remotely useful?!”

“TO HER END!”

Daniel’s chair had tipped over with a clatter as he had stood, looming over Henry with his chest heaving. “Make all the comments you wish on how I haven’t changed, Lemuels,” he growled, strands of hair slipping slowly from his black-ribbon tie. “The pillars which you are up against have changed less, and they will not break for you. If they believe you are not in complete control of her, they will either find someone who can be, or they will move to remove her permanently, are you able to grasp that?”

Peter stood in the same swift motion as Henry, sticking his hand across the desk if only to remind the men that he was, in fact, still here. Had Henry had two working hands in that moment, Peter had no doubt at least one of them would’ve struck the Captain outright.

“I will allow you one verbal response,” the Commander leveled. “After that I will hope that you both have gotten whatever this all is out of your minds and can return to behaving as civilized men, or I will be forced to take disciplinary actions against you both for insubordination and flagrant destruction of peace and decorum.”

He had no reason to ask if he had been clear.

He knew both of these men had been flogged before.

He knew his mercy of warning would not fall on deaf ears. Peter Martellis had never had to give more than a warning before, he wouldn’t be changing that today.

Henry’s eyes had never left Daniel’s, and there was another unnatural stillness about him as he collected himself. “I refuse, adamantly, to subject her to anything such as that outright. I will make no claims or promises that I will do it at all. If Melanie and myself discuss this and it is agreed, be aware that it will only occur as a charade in front of non-Watch members, if we even go that far with it.”

His hand pointed out the window toward the grounds, his voice grave, final. “It is, and always will be, her decision. As much as or above others, it will be hers. Nothing will stop that.”

Daniel stared at him blankly a moment, Peter letting out a small sigh. The storm had passed.

Then Daniel’s mouth opened again.

“Her size,” he said quietly, almost patiently, which made Peter’s hair stand on end for a flash, “is not to be levied as a threat like that.”

Peter’s hand struck out again as Henry stepped so close to Daniel their chests touched around the vague attempt at restraint. “She is a person,” the sailor growled through lips that barely moved. “That is why she won’t be stopped. Her size has nothing to do with that, and you’d do well to open your eyes to more of her than how small she makes you feel.”

Daniel’s arm moved so sharply that it could’ve hit Henry twice before the word ‘MEN’ had left the Commander’s mouth.

But the Captain knew it had been coming.

So his hand stayed at his side.

“Sit down,” Peter ordered, eyes hard as they moved slowly between the two men, his hand still on Henry’s chest. “Now.”

The moment their eyes broke from each other, the two men wilted and became humans again; just men, stung and bitter. Hurt. It hadn’t come to blows, but the damage was done. He had seen it every time, and he would see it again. Martellis was no stranger to differences that pulled at the seams too strongly, and he was getting ever better at mending popped stitches before things became fully ripped.

“Captain,” Commander Martellis said after the man’s chair had been righted and everyone had settled again, wanting to waste no time in letting the air get heavier in the aftermath of their spat. “You’re in control of the Barracks this evening. I’ll be traveling to the Training Grounds with that team.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant replied with a quick nod, letting out a quiet breath that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Henry,” he continued, “I have to ask that the discussion you’ll need to have with Melanie about all of this happen there, in more privacy. The situation here is more tenuous than I’m allowing myself to acknowledge, and we need as few ears and eyes on this as possible.”

“Understood, Commander,” Henry responded, the fight out of him but not to the point of complete defeat. “The privacy in question--”

Peter’s hand raised with noted impatience to bring him to a halt. “We can discuss that after dismissal and en route if necessary, or it can wait until we’re at the grounds. I’m not rejecting or approving anything else until then.”

There was an awkward hesitation before the blue-clad man nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I appreciate your understanding.” He wasn’t lying; Commander Martellis very much was appreciative of any amount of cooperation and understanding he could get from anyone in this moment, he was just… exceedingly tired right now. “Tomorrow, I feel the council will be pushing agenda items either worrisomely fast or frustratingly slow. It’ll tell us a lot about how they feel regarding the change of members today. Captain Grant, I’ll need you to prepare as formal a list as you can of the lieutenants we want to promote to Major, and any subsequent promotions we’d like to do to fill gaps caused by those moves. It’ll be--”

“It’ll take ages to get the full approvals, but handing them proper responsibilities and honourary rank titles for now would do well for morale and for the structure overall,” Grant cut him off, leaning back into his chair, a bit more relaxed. His icy stare peeked up from under his brow to the Commander’s darkened eyeline. “Will this inclu--”

“Create a separate list for the Training Grounds team,” Martellis nodded, knowing where he was going with this. “Same parameters for promotion, if only for our own consideration. Ideally, that team will fall far enough under the umbrella of the Watch that the council will not have a say, but… play it as safe as possible, head off as much frustration as we can before it happens.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant replied, already breaking out a small notebook from inside his coat and starting to scribble.

“Good man,” Peter breathed with relief. Daniel being on a task meant he wasn’t on Henry, which was one less worry. “Any questions before we dismiss for the evening and begin the preparations to travel back to the Training Grounds?”

“My effects,” Henry said, the memory hitting him like an electric shock. “Were they ever--”

Peter’s hand raised to cut him off again. “That is still being worked on, I do apologize for the delay,” he lied. They had found Henry’s effects almost immediately, the items stripped from him having gone to the Staff Sergeant’s offices and the items of his size that had been salvaged from their wreck having been locked in the cells along the back. The plan had been not to say anything until Henry had been awarded the Captain rank, at which point the council would’ve needed much more reason to bring his items forward for investigation. That had… not happened.

Henry nodded with a sigh. “My whistle was the item that reminded me, today,” he explained. “If there’s any hint as to where it went after I was pulled from the beach, just that would be sufficient.”

“You can get another--” Daniel started to grumble vaguely from beside him.

“Mine is the one I was looking for, thank you Captain,” the sailor replied, trying to roll both of his shoulders but flinching openly toward the side of his broken arm. 

“We’ll continue searching, Henry, thank you for your patience,” Peter offered softly from across the table. He hated the idea that he knew what was coming and couldn’t warn him. He hated that part of the proceedings tomorrow was going to be a show of… some kind of dominance over the man by the others, parading him about for interrogation over every single item he had, on top of everything else. 

He hated that this had to happen at all, but then he remembered there was a fifty-foot woman wandering between the walls of his grounds, and couldn’t think of any other way this would continue peacefully otherwise.

“I’m dismissing you both to your tasks for the evening, I’ll be heading to get whatever it is I’ll require for the Training Grounds this evening. Expect to be leaving within the hour, Henry.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Dismissed, men.”

The three of them left, Daniel heading for the stairs and Peter going with Henry to the elevator at the farther end. Neither of them seemed interested in conversation, which Peter couldn’t honestly be upset about right now. At the door to the grounds, he reached a hand out to catch the man by the shoulder before he could leave.

“Promise me, if you can,” he pleaded softly, “that you’ll not take Captain Grant doing his duty to heart for too long.”

Henry paused, his eyes out on the bustling barracks grounds, watching the men and a few of the Noble guard wandering between the buildings and up and down the pathways. “Promise me,” he said, slowly turning toward Peter with a flat stare, “that you’ll rest once we get to the Training Grounds.”

The request was so bizarre, so unexpected… and yet so much like Henry Lemuels to ask, that Peter spluttered out a laugh he tried to hide behind the back of his hand. The man never would’ve said it so openly before, never would’ve been so bold as to tell him directly, but he always had tried to push Peter to stop working so hard. 

“I can’t make that promise, I’m sorry,” he replied after a moment, both men smiling at each other through varying flavours of exhaustion. “I’ll do my best, however.”

“Then I shall as well,” the man said with a shrug and still smiling, waving with his good arm while he headed toward the back gate of the grounds. Peter smiled as he watched him leave; such a strange sight to see a man so different yet so very much the same. He never would’ve let the thought cross his mind before now that Henry could let his pride be dinged by the events of the day and continue in as much grace as he had, or that he would let an incident like that with Daniel slide.

Now, as he watched him go, he fully believed Henry was a man more at peace than he’d ever been. He believed he was watching a calmer, more mature man that would hopefully come to surprise him even further once these trying times had passed.

Chapter Text

“He’s exactly the idiot and utter asswipe I left here two years ago!”

“Four years.”

“EVEN WORSE.”

Melanie lay on her side, trying to let her body rest and get beyond the accumulating aches and pains. Henry, in contrast, was storming up and down in front of her, between her body and the treeline as they pushed the envelope on every rule they had just been given after returning to the Training Grounds. He had grabbed a branch from somewhere and was swinging it angrily with his good arm, almost to spite his broken one, and the giant woman frowned deeply at how red his face had been the entire time they had been having their ‘private’ meeting.

As Henry stopped to smack the branch into the ground angrily a few times, a massive finger swept in to try and stroke his hair, the man flicking the stick up to swat it away-- though much less aggressively than she was worried about-- and he turned on her.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, turning to start stomping again.

“You’re going to pull something if you keep it up,” she warned in concern, her hand sliding to make another attempt, this time the branch poking into her flesh as he held it like he was fencing, pushing it enough to make it bow and bend slightly in an effort to push her back.

“Let me feel this,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. She sighed, nodding as she rested her head on her arm again, the long hair from the top of her head flopping to the ground. She was praying to get time tomorrow to go bathe in the pond, even if it was going to be frigid. 

“I know he’s been cruel to you, as well, which is just… so much more bullshit on this whole pile.” Henry had gone back to nearly growling, and now he was attempting to drag her into it. There would be catharsis in it, he knew it, and they had-- however limited-- privacy enough that she could let it out. He wanted to encourage it without telling her outright.

“Cruel might be a bit much,” she said, her eyes darting up into the tree branches above them. “He’s been shitty, but ‘cruel’ implies much more intention that I don’t know is actually there. I honestly just think he doesn’t like me.”

“It’s not you.”

“No, I think it’s me,” she drawled uncomfortably. “Unless there’s another giant person standing just behind me he’s always really mad at.”

“No, I don’t-- that’s not what I mean,” he stammered, dragging a line in the dirt with the tip of the stick. “He’s taking his hatred of me out on you. If I weren’t here, he’d be--” 

Coming to a hard stop, Melanie’s eyebrows raised at the man as it took him a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, he’d still be an unrelenting ass,” he continued bitterly, “but he’d probably just ignore you.”

“He’d ignore me?” The giant woman asked.

Oblivious to her skeptical tone, he shrugged, almost spitting. “Without me involved you’d be just another member of the Watch, at best. If they would’ve even cared enough to enlist you, which--”

“Henry.” Her voice was soft, light in a way he wasn’t expecting.

“Hm?” He turned to look at her, locking with the highest of her massive hazel eyes as she smirked. A moment passed, his brain too agitated to try and puzzle out what she was getting at, and she gave a quiet chuckle.

“Maybe he would’ve ignored me if I was only forty-five feet ta--” she started in an air of casualness before he snapped, causing her to laugh louder.

“Don’t! No! We’re not talking about that!” He said, storming up toward her face and chasing it as she tried to crane her neck backwards as far as she could, until he could tap her across the forehead with the branch irritably. “Can you take this seriously?”

Her hand swept up behind him, thumb slipping around his torso to try and gently guide his tense and frustrated form backwards; at least far enough back that she could see him properly. He fidgeted against her and she immediately sprung her fingers apart, but the small man softened. Elbowing her palm he leaned to the side enough to nudge it amicably, her fingers relaxing again.

“Sorry,” they muttered at each other awkwardly, the giant woman continuing. “I will, and I am, I just… we have a lot of ground to cover and I’m worried that the things I actually want to ask about won’t be useful to this plan.”

“You shouldn’t-- shit,” Henry blurted it out before he swore, his shoulders sagging like he had been braced with a heavy load. A sigh escaped him as he stepped back against her fingers, irritation being swiftly replaced with a sense of guilt. “Ask what you want, the only part of this plan that should matter is that we’re both, for the moment, still alright.”

“I’ll start on the obvious one, then,” she said, moving a finger up and down on the back of his coat. “What’s the Captain’s problem?”

“You’ll need to narrow that down while we’re on any kind of a time constraint,” he replied flatly.

“What’s his problem with you, then?”

The small man wasted no time, barely even needing to take a breath. “Boiling it down, it’s that I rejected service as a life. You may not have noticed, it’s incredibly subtle, but the man rather seems to like protocol and procedure and orders and laws.”

A snorting laugh escaped Melanie and a proud smirk flashed onto Henry’s face as the knowledge that he amused her with his sarcasm took a bit of the bite out of him. “Extremely subtle,” she agreed, her fingers curling lightly around his back.

“Yes, well, it has to do with a terrible birth defect,” Henry continued, the irritation still plainly in him. “He was born with his head so far up the ass of the top brass that anything that fell outside of the military structure simply looks like shit to him.”

The giant woman’s laugh moved to a volume he knew was going to carry too far for him to be comfortable with, the surprised look on her face at his words making him deflate just a little at the thought that he was, truly, a bit too aggravated and open right now about his feelings. After she had quieted, he continued. “When I had decided to leave the Academy with my friends, Daniel had some very pointed things to say about it, and I had some pointed things to say back. The man was never gentle about anything, but to hear it straight-out that he felt the only honourable option of any career was under His Majesty’s Military Banners, well…”

“Is that why you specifically went with privateering, instead of just becoming merchant sailors or anything?” She asked as Henry finally stepped away from her hand, going back to pacing and swinging his stick, though both motions were slower now. Less feverish.

“I…” he started before screwing up his face in thought, hesitating. “You know, I never thought of that. I believe it was Neilson who brought up that privateers were making more money per job, though the jobs could be sparser, but Forbes I believe wanted to be privateers specifically for the social standing it could award you.”

“Huh,” she breathed, her head tipping as she adjusted herself a little on the dirt. “Why did you--”

“I just wanted to sail,” he cut her off. His tone was plain, level. It was just the simple truth of the matter. “They could’ve wanted to become pleasure-cruisers for all I cared, I just… wanted to be on a ship, with them, and seeing what we all could make the thing do.”

“And the Captain couldn’t stomach the idea that you could just go do something you love without it being in service to the Navy,” she prompted him.

“Exactly,” Henry said, turning back to face her. “May as well have run off to be a pirate; a turncoat or a traitor of some kind in his eyes, and he hated me for it then and it certainly seems he hasn’t grown on that front.”

“What was your relationship like before that happened?”

“I mean,” he sighed exasperatedly, walking back toward her hand and turning to lean into it, the woman tipping and moving it specifically to catch him and support his weight in the way she had probably done hundreds of times before. “We were friends, I don’t feel… I don’t feel that’s inaccurate to say. We were close enough during the start of Academy, I felt we got closer overtime… he very much had a distaste for Forbes and that’s probably where a schism started to occur, though it wasn’t prominent until the lines were starting to be drawn for Navy, Watch, Guard, and so on.”

“He…” the small man continued, coming to a halt mentally as he slumped more into the palm he had become so acquainted with. “He was always closer to Peter, and Peter to him, that hasn’t changed and I’m extremely glad for it, but I still maintain that despite what happened, we were friends, for whatever that’s worth to you.”

She smirked, blushing a little at the pointed remark. “That obvious?”

He used the branch in his hand to tap at her fingers in a mock scolding manner. “You’re always trying to puzzle together something, I no longer imagine you asking things just for the sake of hearing me speak,” he retorted bluntly. “It’ll do you no good, though. He truly is just a prick who can’t contain his hatred for me just to myself, so it has to go to you.”

“There are moments,” she interjected, arguing. “Sometimes it seems like we could actually get along but then he just… snaps back to it. Maybe you’re right, maybe it isn’t me, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation.”

“You don’t need him to like you,” Henry offered, though it sounded too weak to convince either of them.

“No, but I do need him to just… relax about me. I… I didn’t want to say anything,” Melanie drawled, Henry standing back up in her palm and her fingers wrapping around him carefully in an attempt to try and restrain his concern. “His attitude isn’t… exactly helpful to me winning friends outside of the brigade, I’ve noticed.”

“That piece of shit,” the small man in her hand spat, trying to wriggle free from her fingers. “I’ll strike him for it-- what has he been doing?”

“Shhh, no,” she pleaded, already grimacing with her regret for having brought it up. “It’s just that I’ve noticed after he’s come around and gotten everyone to give me space, or told them to stop talking to me… there are some-- again, not anyone in the brigade--”

“Please don’t call it that,” Henry breathed.

“--the Idiot Brigade,” she corrected herself to make the point she was absolutely going to keep calling it that, “that… are enthusiastic to continue with those orders, and to try and keep those orders being followed by others. It’s not… it isn’t a huge issue, but when you have him and Miller in the same general area enough times, it’s not hard to see the difference between how people tend to react.”

“See,” he replied sharply, wriggling against her fingers again and stepping out as they opened. “This is what I meant by him being cruel. He also told me, directly, that you and I should be less physical and close. To practice distance, in order to be… taken seriously by the council.”

The pause, the hesitation… the actual sight of something building up inside of her as he watched her face move in it’s too-large-to-be-subtle ways fed his angry, irritated soul, while he reveled in the idea that he had finally done it; that he had finally dragged her into cathartic venting and rage with him.

Then her mouth opened.

“...Will that work?”

The man let out an involuntary groan. “No,” he whined in despair, not in answer to her, but a response all the same. “No, don’t do this right now--”

“We have to do this, Henry,” she replied softly, her fingers moving to catch up with him again and making a quick stroke down his hair and his back. “We have to think about how--”

“It could wait until I finished calling him a prick.”

“You can still call him a prick, but, if he’s made a point then we should still consider it.”

“It’s a stupid point and I have no interest in considering it, especially in combination with the additionally asinine point he made earlier today,” the man rambled, though he didn’t try to leave her reach, letting the stroking continue as he finally let her try to temper his upset. 

“Listen,” she bargained, “if it gets us closer to what we need and what we want faster, then we should be fine with walking like ducks and quacking like ducks if the council thinks we’re ducks.” A rush of air entered her as she arranged her thoughts. 

The giant woman’s mind had been churning since before they had even started the long walk back to the training grounds. While she had granted him the peace of getting his feelings out-- as much as she could given their situation-- she couldn’t help but feel pressured by the need to strategize. They had precious little time, and every moment of every day now it felt like she was being buried under new information, new angles, new details she needed to put into play. 

Already she had to put into place at least three new things that Ais’lyn had informed her of; things she could do or say when needed. What was one more thing? She could do it, she could implement another way to make this as smooth as possible for Henry, to get them to what the real, true goal here was, to--

“I know you,” he said, letting out a sigh as he dropped the branch and turned to grab a finger. It brought her thoughts to a complete halt. “Don’t pretend distance is something you can do easily. It’s not. I… I don’t want to put you through that.”

The faintest breath entered her as she looked at the back of him, feeling him rest his forehead on the pad of her fingertip as he held it to himself. She watched him sag, watching him deflate as the hot emotions inspired by the Captain left his small and tired body. Her hand moved, thumb sliding around his back and the fingers he wasn’t holding slipping around his body to embrace him as much as she could.

“...You’re right,” she said, and he gave her finger a quick squeeze with his hand before turning back around to face her, calmer now than he had been. “It’s not something I can do easily, and frankly… I won’t, not all the time. As far as I’m concerned, the Training Grounds is out of the council’s jurisdiction when it comes to that kind of bullshit. If you’re ok with putting on whatever show they would need us to put on to get us what we want… then I’m fine with things backstage-- here-- being this.”

Henry let out a soft, groaning sigh as he draped his good arm over her thumb and stroked the back of it. “This entire debacle is already asking so much of you, and I haven’t even gotten to what else the prick suggested today--”

Large fingers squeezed him, the man shifting his broken arm out of the way smoothly as he melted into the gentle pressure. “Hit me with it,” she said with a smirk.

“...Subservience--”

She snorted a laugh. “Not likely.”

“To me,” he added, furrowing his brow at her. Her own eyebrows jumped slightly in consideration.

“Much more do-able, but--”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as if he already knew where she was going with it. He did. Of course he did. “I told them very bluntly that it wasn’t going to be subservience. That’s not in the cards.”

“Does he think we need total subservience?”

“No, just a hint of…”

“Control?”

“Yes.”

“Then we can do that,” she said with a shrug, “I even know a way to make it entertaining for you.”

“Oh?” He asked curiously, his hand still stroking the back of her thumb.

“If he wants you to be the one in control of me, I could suddenly find Captain Grant’s orders hard to understand.”

Henry’s laugh started slow and quiet; just a polite chuckle at first. Then it started to grow. “No,” he stammered out between laughs. “That would-- that would just cause worse issues--”

“Come oooon,” she drawled teasingly. “Imagine it: Him, giving me basic instructions. Me, asking for simple definitions over and over again. You’d love that, I know you would.”

His laughing had almost drowned her out completely as he remembered the other day, her act at playing dumb as Daniel interrogated her about her belongings at the Barracks. Her thumb snaked up against his body, sliding up his chest as he wrapped his arm around it and hugged it tightly, the side of it coming to brush against his cheek as she laughed with him.

“Stop that,” he managed eventually, leaning his rough stubble into the pad of her thumb briefly before clearing his throat between chuckles, releasing her and pushing a bit of distance between his body and her fingers again. “There’s more important things to think about than how I can irritate Daniel.”

“I don’t know if I’d say more important, but there are things of at least equal importance, yes,” she said, smiling warmly at him as they locked eyes. The two both made contented sighs before nodding, getting back to the real task at hand. “I have a few things,” she started.

“You have the floor,” he replied, pushing her hand to the ground and moving to sit on the back of it, huffing out a tired breath.

“I want to go over our priorities,” she said, adjusting herself slightly to get at least a little more comfortable. “Specifically in regards to the council. First is to get you instated as Captain--”

“That might be impossi--”

“It’s not actually negotiable and I’ll go knock on the windows as many times as it takes to get that through their heads,” she stated flatly, talking over him as her eyes wandered the trees and brush around them idly. “So, first is to make you Captain. After that, I’m not sure what we’re aiming for in terms of highest priorities.”

“No sense arguing with you,” Henry sighed, stretching his legs out with a light groan. “So, after that, I’d say the top priority items are getting you actual shelter of any kind, even if it’s simply using your tent until other accommodations can be made. Getting our effects-- at least some of them-- back into our possession, and then it’s a matter of the… arrangements of duty, I suppose.”

Melanie had nodded along until the last point, stopping to clarify. “Not entirely sure what that phrasing means in this context.”

“If I’ll be a Captain, it should give me oversight into what goes on with this… team.”

“Brigade,” she corrected him.

“I refuse,” he rejected her correction, continuing smoothly. “Being able to make a schedule that involves less… traveling, daily, would be on the docket, but until the council meetings become less of a daily necessity, I honestly don’t see that happening. Not for both of us.”

“We could use the tent to overnight me at the Barracks during the week, and I could keep the tarp set-up here for weekends?” She suggested.

“It can be a consideration, but these are all future plans, and this one is less crucial,” he admitted. “Are your needs being met, first and foremost?”

“Food and water are good. Shelter needs work but I at least have my own space. Bathroom and bathing… serviceable.”

“What are you missing?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Nothing that wouldn’t require a lot of privacy, and my head hasn’t exactly been in the space to worry about that.” Her bluntness seemed to take him aback as he spent a few moments piecing together what she meant.

“...Did you really just--” he blurted out, the giant woman cutting him off as colour came to her cheeks.

“It’ll need to happen eventually, I’m a human with needs,” she whined defensively. “You’re lucky! You’re in a bunkroom full of men, no one’s going to notice you adding the sound of one hand clapping to the din of--”

“Stop, please--” he begged. “No, no-- I have no intention-- my head is also busy thinking of logistics and not… that, thank you.”

She was snickering over her own awkwardness as he went red in the face himself, rolling his eyes. He shot her a sharp look as he put a foot down on the discussion. “If the men have been doing that, I haven’t heard or noticed, and I’ll curse you forever now for drawing my attention to it if it’s been happening.” Melanie laughed.

“Oh? Suddenly all those stories of easily sharing close quarters on ships were just bluffing, were they?”

“No, but a crew is different than a… sudden arrangement of people cooperating,” he struggled to word exactly what was different in this situation without starting an extremely long list. “The men have been dealing with the unusual ordeal of this whole incident as well, they’re probably too concerned with us than to--”

“It’s men in a bunkroom,” she stressed. “Someone always is. Everyone I know who’s had to deal with it has said the same.”

“Another reason I’ll be moving out with you as soon as I’m able, then” he muttered in response. There was a very brief, but weighted, pause.

“...You really want to?”

“Of course,” the words came out of him quickly, bluntly, and naturally as he overran the sounds of her being unsure and timid. “One of the hardest things to handle since we wound up in this situation is the lack of having time to speak with you. The more time we can get together the easier it’ll be to alleviate that-- at least in my own mind.”

She smiled, a deep sigh of relief leaving her as he rubbed at the back of her hand soothingly. “I’m glad, and I agree. Privacy aside, just… getting to talk more would be a huge relief right now. I mean, I talk a fair bit with the brigade when we’re here, but--”

“You do have to keep things to a… relatively acceptable range of discussion topics,” he warned.

“I know, I know,” she groaned. “I feel like I’ve been doing pretty well on that front, all things considered.”

“Yes,” he replied somewhat patronizingly, “you’ve done a good job at not causing any of the men any psychological crises. I’m very proud.”

Her laughter grew loud enough again that Henry couldn’t help but worry if they were really pushing the envelope on their brief moment of privacy. When she had settled a little, he adjusted his weight on her hand and steeled himself with a breath.

“While we have privacy-- anything you’ve needed to say or to ask, now is the time.”

“I’m lying on my notebook and don’t want to drag it out,” she admitted after her tongue rattled behind her teeth, that giant head tipping side to side in her thoughtful wobble as she stalled. “I know for certain we need to discuss lift drills and everything else, but most of that can happen with the brigade. Wells is fabulous for organizing, he’ll help with that side of it.”

She hummed, frowning. “Ais’lyn is going to try and get at least Theresa to brief me on the proper laws around what I should and should not be allowed to do in my specific position again, but that’s a tomorrow or later problem. She did want me to offer you assurances that things will be fine, and she’s moving the board to our liking-- don’t ask me what board, I never had time to ask and was too scared to.”

“Scared?” Henry asked, legitimately surprised.

“She was very ready to go home,” Melanie breathed, the man chuckling out his relief.

“Can’t blame her.”

“Me neither,” the giant woman flashed a smirk before returning to her thought train. “There was something… I’ve been meaning to bug you about i-- Oh.”

The small man on the back of her hand leaned backwards to get a good stretch in, only to suddenly snap back up-- bolt-upright and grimacing at her next word.

“Conquest.”

Those massive eyes were both watching him, her expression neutral as she took in how openly uncomfortable he had gotten. “I need to know what that is.”

“Need is a strong word--” Henry tried to deflect, the hand under him shifting enough to give him an embarrassing bump.

“It upset you. It upset you a lot,” she stated bluntly, though her eyes were filled with a sort of pity he had become so used to over the last nearly-two-years. “If they’re going to ask about it, and you’re going to be that mad about it--”

“It’s a banned practice,” he started, his good hand firmly on the back of hers as he stared into those massive eyes, bouncing between the high and low one for focus. “I want you to understand that. It’s been banned the entirety of my life, or just about-- I don’t honestly remember a time when the practice was not already deemed by law to be a black mark on our history as a nation and as a people.”

“Henry…”

The giant’s whining groan turned his stomach, and he already felt the blotchy heat returning to his face as though he was still ranting about Daniel.

“...Before the law banning it was put in place,” he explained as slowly as he thought he might be able to get away with. “It was… not common, but legal, when landing on foreign shores to… take several things for Conquest, under the name of the King and the Royal Family.”

Melanie let out a long sigh. “People.”

“Yes, people were part of it.”

“I’m not terribly surprised, just… disappointed that prisoners were taken like that--”

“No,” he cut her off darkly, his eyes dropping as his body sagged. It took an extra second for the man to stop grinding his teeth and continue. “Not prisoners. If you had managed to mount a successful Conquest of any kind, provided you paid a tithe of sorts to the King or Nobility… those people were… yours.”

“...Henry.”

“It’s been a banned practice for decades, now, and--”

“Henry.”

“They will ask and I will tell them no, and--”

“What happened to them?”

The seven-inch tall man resting near her wrist flinched as the desire to bury his face in his hands made him forget that one of his arms was broken, and he let out a long groan of defeat. He couldn’t run from this, he couldn’t talk his way around it. Internally, he was adding it to the list of reasons he should hit Daniel, even if Peter was the one who had the gall to bring it up in front of Melanie.

She shouldn’t have had to know about this. He should’ve been able to protect her from this, even if it is-- for some unbelievably stupid reason-- not a dead concept like it had been. Like it should still be.

“It was common practice for many years for those who could mount-- or at least benefit-- from a conquest to integrate the peoples they had removed from those homelands, into their homes and their lives and their businesses as such,” he explained, unable to meet her gaze as the words tasted like literal dirt in his mouth. “Particularly as it was at the beginning of conflicts with the Hostenians it was… crucial, in a way, to make these people fit into our society and our way of living. They were… trained, and--”

“Educated.”

He nodded at the pointed nature of her tone, gesturing with his free hand in concession and still unable to look at her. “Precisely. Before my time,” he stressed, “there were parties of sorts to show off how well a family or particular estate had acclimated peoples of conquest into the Vogunti status.”

“...And once they… fit in?” She asked, unable to hide the discomfort, the worry, the hesitation.

“They were a part of whatever estate claimed them,” he answered in an attempt to dismiss the topic.

It didn’t work.

“As in, they were citizens? That they could go about lives like--”

He sighed loud enough to interrupt her and shook his head, finally looking at her. “They were under the control of the estate. Permanently. I… I know there were stories of some being granted liberty-- amnesty, to use a more barbaric word for it. But that-- you know how these things are, and--”

“It was indentured servitude, then,” she said flatly.

“It was, yes, and there’s no sense in trying to soften that for you,” he prattled defeatedly. “They were, by design of the laws at the time, at the complete mercy of their captors, and regardless of how merciful those captors may or may not have been, it was a disgusting and vile practice and I was proud to believe my country had put it in the fucking ground.”

Melanie shifted, the giant woman sliding the arm under her into a position to prop her up, letting out a long, haggard breath. Henry’s eyes followed her upward, frowning deeply as he rubbed at the back of the hand he was using as a seat. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice clear and steady. “I’m sorry that for some reason, this is relevant information to have.”

“I mean,” she drawled, letting her neck and back stretch with faint creaks and pops, “you know. You know what bullshit my home was up to. I’m not mad at you, Henry.”

“I’m not worried about you being mad at me,” he said, his eyes dropping from her face to the space beneath her, seeing the unmistakable form of the Commander walking toward them from across the field. “I’m disgusted by it, and I wish it didn’t have to be something that tainted how you see my home. I wanted this place to be… better than that, for you.”

Through the twisted, contemplative look of discomfort, she flashed him a faint smile. “I appreciate that,” she said with a sigh. Her eyes narrowed as she saw his gaze looking past her, however and she asked the overdue question. “Are we out of time?”

“We’ve got about five minutes, maybe more,” the small man on her wrist stated, fidgeting awkwardly. “He’s taking his time, but he is coming.”

“Alright,” she said, rolling her neck a little before moving to lay back down. “If we have that long, then let’s go over the list of goals and things again, and just… spitball what we’re aiming for and what we want. Don’t worry about prioritizing.”

“I promise,” he said, taking a deep breath after nodding along with her, wanting to interject before they got too far. Her eyes met his and he squeezed what he could of her hand with his own. “This won’t be forever. We won’t have to spend all of this time just… planning and strategizing. We’ll get to some amount of stability soon enough.”

She smirked, nodding. “It’s been a week. We’re doing alright, all things considered.”

He let out a chuckle, shrugging. “You’re right. You’re very right.”

“So,” she said, immediately snapping into the planning and strategizing he wished they didn’t have to consider. The logistics he wished could be less prominent in their lives. “Getting you established. Shelter, our effects. I need to get to Swift, I know that’s a ways out, but we need to get there soon. Your estate, and everything else still in your name.”

“I keep forgetting about the estate,” Henry admitted. “That’ll have to wait until I’m established, but it’s on the priority list now. I, personally, would like us to maintain as much control as possible over the operations of the team here, at least as it pertains to the lift drills and everything else.”

“I like that,” she agreed, her mind trying to wheel through ideas and considerations as fast as possible while they were on the clock. “Establishing if I have any kind of free time would be nice, but don’t push that too fast or they’ll make that a living hell.”

“Right you are. We can look into rolling you into something as close to a normal schedule among the Watch as possible.”

“That would work,” she nodded.

“You’re not likely going to be allowed to take day-leaves or the like with the men,” he added in warning, flashing her a grimace that looked to be apologetic more than anything else.

“I know,” she said, in the tone of an over-nagged child. “I don’t really have a lot of desire just yet to go shopping in town. Just the freedom to go take a bath or something when needed--”

“You won’t be able to be alone--”

“No, I know that, but just the ability to even schedule it for myself would be a relief at this point. They, thankfully, let me go destroy the forest whenever I need to empty myself. That’s a small blessing that feels huge in this instance.”

“Back onto topic-- you can still benefit from the time of day-leaves even if you have to stay on grounds or in this general area,” he said, redirecting them.

“That would be fine, and you could go deal with your estate or go on day-leave with the men to get the stink of the place off of you,” she replied casually, almost pleasantly as she drifted away in thought about it.

“I’m not going to leave you here alone,” he quipped quickly, snapping her out of it. She screwed up her face, looking almost offended.

“I won’t be alone, and you should still take whatever freedoms I can’t or they’ll think you don’t deserve any,” she said firmly. The small man rolled his eyes, his mouth opening but nothing making it out before she cut across him again. “Don’t give me that,” she scolded him. “It’s true. If they have any excuse to think you don’t want that kind of consideration or freedom, they’ll take it away as much as they can. Don’t let them. Go shopping or bar hopping with Miller and Jones, they’ll tell you all kinds of stories.”

“Miller and Jones are the ones I’d prefer to leave you here with,” he said. “But, fair point regardless. Just know that I don’t delight in the idea.”

“You’ll delight in it the second you come back with a new pocket watch,” she teased.

“Back onto topic,” he groaned, though he couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “We’ll need to think of a role for you to play that can leave people out of sticking their noses into our business.”

“Construction.”

“That won’t be necessary, ideally. I’d rather you not get relegated to that kind of--”

“I want to.” The words left her on a quiet mutter, and there was colour across her cheeks as he regarded her again.

“You shouldn’t need to have a job here in that sense--”

“I’m in the Watch, they’re taking care of me. Let me build a bridge or two,” she pleaded. “Dawson’s good to me, I enjoy it, and besides… they’re going to get pissed with me at some point for doing damage to infrastructure, and--”

“They won’t get pissed at y--”

“They will, Henry. They will. It’ll be one of the earliest things they rip out of the playbook: that I’m too expensive, and that’s one of the angles they’ll use. If I’m putting my worth back in where they’re going to try to say I’m creating costs, it takes that away from them.”

The small man sighed loudly, rubbing at his face as he emphasized his words on staccato. “You shouldn’t have to focus on beating them at this twisted game.”

“But I do have to,” she offered firmly, though her eyes looked him over with softness. With concern. “Again, I like being useful in that way. Helping put up the scaffolding was great! Let me feel like if my foot goes through a sidewalk or dents a road that I can at least help fix it before they decide to send a bill for it.”

“I don’t want them using you like working cattle,” he argued, his voice rising.

“They wouldn’t be!” She replied. “Everything I do, I do willingly.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he leveled.

“They don’t have to.”

“Then selfishly speaking, I would prefer to see some more acknowledgement that you’re being compliant by choice before I’m comfortable with you being made to do physical labour.”

There was a pause, both of them frowning at each other. Melanie was hardly a stranger to Henry’s stubbornness, and he was not at all a stranger to hers. They were, as they had been many times before, at an impasse.

“Fine,” she conceded, vaguely, though the look on his face told her he had no faith she was actually conceding. “I’ll wait on it. But still--” the small man sighed loudly again, rocking back on her hand and moving to swing himself forward to interrupt her as she continued. “If the Commander asks--”

“I’ll consider you a willing addition to any construction projects,” Peter’s voice called clearly from behind her, causing both the giant and the sailor to jump. “It’s been stated… numerous times now.”

They waited patiently and faintly embarrassedly for him to join them, walking around the crown of her head where she lay. Once he was in view of them both, Henry moved to standing with the help of her hand lifting beneath him, and she softly groaned and creaked her way into as proper a kneeling position as she could.

“Apologies, Peter,” Henry offered to him, trying to distract the man out of his staring at the massive woman and her movements. “We weren’t expecting you for a few minutes yet.”

“You were, accidentally, granted twice as long as I had promised you for privacy,” the man replied, saluting as naturally as he could be expected to as the woman made the motion toward him after rearranging herself.

“Thank you, Commander,” she said reflexively.

“No need for thanks,” he said, flashing a warm smile to her. “It was a warning to mind yourselves in the future, in the event I’m not alone.”

“Then thank you for that,” Henry said, softening as he watched Peter relax a bit more, his hat already off and tucked under one arm. It was encouraging to see him behave more gently, more like his old self, around Melanie.

“Was the conversation productive enough for you, even in its… limited scope?” The Commander asked, scratching at his beard as he looked between the two people in front of him. The two looked at each other, and he was nearly shocked to see how openly the large woman’s face gave a very clear ‘meh’ in answer as she shrugged. Then, he remembered what Henry had inferred on the beach on the first day of this debacle: Nothing the woman does can be subtle.

“It was necessary,” Henry said, turning back to Peter and presumably translating Melanie’s face into something more of a professional response. “We could’ve used hours and still not touched on everything but… we both sincerely appreciate being granted what we had.”

“We do, sir,” the giant woman agreed from above. Her eyes finally moved toward the facility at the far end of the field, smiling faintly at the sight of a couple of horses and riders coming their way with a few other people on foot, the sunset painting the end of the field in a rosy glow. “Anything you want me to do before we finish up for the day?”

Henry marked the vague look of surprise on Peter’s face as she asked the question, and how it faded into a faint smile. It put him significantly more at ease with their situation as a whole. “The men-- I’m sorry,” the Commander began, quickly correcting himself. “Miller, I should say, was speaking at length about lift drills. I’d like to oversee some, if possible. I told the men to head this way after I had made it to you.”

“Oh,” Melanie replied, excitement lighting up her features as if she had just woken up from a very refreshing nap. “Yes sir, absolutely. Let me stretch so I don’t sound like I’m falling apart while they’re happening--”

“Mind,” Henry drawled softly, Peter vaguely remembering a moment with Daniel earlier, behind the barracks kitchen. 

“Sorry, sir,” the woman sheepishly replied, giving another salute that the Commander returned via reflex more than intent as he watched-- and felt-- the giant get her feet under her and stand up.

As she walked away from them in a few gargantuan strides to grant enough space to stretch and roll her ankles, Henry’s voice drew Peter Martellis’ attention again from her. “Thank you, Peter,” the man breathed in such soft appreciation that it took him utterly by surprise.

“What for, Henry?” He asked, unable to contain his concern, as he turned to see Henry’s eyes not on him, but on the woman.

“For not acting like she’s some monster. For treating her like she… like she belongs here, at least in a small way.”

The words seemed to start and stop barely through their first syllables as the Commander of the Eastern Coastal Watch tried to wrestle with what hearing those statements made him feel. “Of course,” he managed, a bit more bluntly than he would have if he wasn’t so bones-deep exhausted today. “She’s as welcome here as you are. As you always have been or would have been.”

“I just wish it was easier on you, my friend.”

Henry’s voice was low, almost sorrowful as he finally faced the grey-stained beard that stood beside him. He continued with a near-haunting earnestness. “I don’t blame you if you come to curse our names over the next… however long this will last. I just-- I just want you to know how deeply I appreciate that this is as easy as it is on us, and that we see that. We understand it’s not a simple role for you.”

Dark brown eyes blinked, the black and silver hair on the back of Peter’s neck standing at attention. “Henry…” he breathed, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I… I don’t know what to tell you, other than that I don’t think I can ever curse your name, just knowing that you’re back.”

A surprised chuckle left the sailor as he regarded Peter, inclining his head with a smile. It looked, just for a second, like the man was going to respond… then the bold voice of Edmund Miller called out to the fifty-foot woman who was wandering her way toward them again, and Peter shook his head in the strange comfort of it all. This wildly outrageous situation that was just quickly becoming another day, another week, within his Watch.

Tomorrow would be another dip into hell. Tonight, though… tonight was what he was secretly hoping this could all become in time. All pieces, as big and odd as some may be, working together.

And Henry was simply happy while observing the same thing, to feel like all of these pieces were still invited to fit.

Chapter Text

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Miller shouted from his horse as he nearly twisted backwards to speak with the giant woman at the end of the procession.

They were barely out of the forest, still on the logging road, and Melanie and a significant portion of the brigade were making good time. All of the members who had stayed behind with her for her later departure were all on horseback, so she could take full strides at a comfortable pace for herself.

“Just… not fully dry yet, Miller, thank you,” she replied, beaming a very fake smile that was trying to force her teeth to stop chattering as she looked down at him. Her hair was still damp, and her body was still not completely up to a normal, living-person temperature after the literal sunrise-bath she had taken in her private pond. 

The large woman let out a soft sigh as her eyes moved back up to the road ahead as they came to the break in the trees, hoping-- at least somewhat-- that they might somehow land on Henry, the Commander, and the rest of the brigade in the distance. The hills had done their job, however, and besides: they were likely already at the Barracks anyway. 

She had had every intention of just… slathering herself in her limited supply of deodorant and making it through the day in hopes she could possibly dart out early to wash instead, when the water would be warmer. Those dreams were immediately set aside however when they were bringing the horses back to the stable after lift-drills and she was getting to interact with the ones Miller and Jones had been riding.

It felt stupid now, how much she had felt like a little girl as the animals approached her easily and the sheer delight that had come over her when one of them started to lick her. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared how she came off around those two men; they were already feeling like good friends. They could see her drop her guard a little. Unfortunately, however, they weren’t the only two in the area.

Devon had made a noise of disgust that was as loud to her as if someone from home had snapped their finger right in her ear. The horses, thankfully, didn’t spook at her movement, but as she turned to see the sour expression on the medic’s face he was already damning her to a fate of numb extremities and golden-hour scrubbing.

“Your sweat makes an appealing salt-lick, apparently,” he had droned. “Maybe you should keep yourself less busy tomorrow.”

“One of us has to do some fucking work around here,” she had snapped back at him, the Commander and Wells both calling very sharp ‘decorum’s over Henry’s harsh call of her name.

Melanie hadn’t taken it too personally, but the damage was done all the same.

“Sorry we had to get on the move so early again, ma’am,” Miller called back sympathetically, “should be a warm enough day that you’ll be fine by the time we get there though!”

“You’d warm up faster if you stopped blowing out all your hot air,” Devon’s voice called out to her from farther ahead, cutting her off before she could thank Miller for caring about her.

“You’re right,” she said dangerously casually toward the man, “I’ll just use hand signals.”

“Decorum,” Wells called from the front, not even needing to turn around as several members laughed at the giant and the medic flipping the bird at each other. “We’re out in open air shortly, put on a good impression for eyes.”

“Don’t scare any horses today,” Devon added.

Melanie simply rolled her eyes and continued walking. 

The trek was, finally, becoming routine. The patrols still did their best to keep people out of their way, but this morning there seemed to be more carts pulled aside with safety-blinders thrown over the horses, donkeys or mules than the previous days, and the giant woman had to wrestle with the extremely awkward urge to wave at people openly staring at her just to keep Devon’s mouth shut.

The farmer she had waved to twice now, whose mules caused a commotion at the gates the other day, seemed to have found a comfortable place to watch their morning proceedings go by against his rockwall that held his sheep, and his dogs were either more used to her, or more attentive to him. Once again, he waved, and Melanie opted to simply give an exaggerated nod toward him. He seemed excited by it.

“None of them seem shocked to see me, at least,” she muttered on their approach to the barracks, the roads busier still and the patrol having receded closer to the barracks itself to avoid too much of a traffic-jam. 

“Bunch of ‘em probably just out hopin’ t’see ya, ma’am!” Kendrick called cheerfully somewhere alongside her as her eyes scanned the parapets over the entrance for Henry. “You were all over the paper yesterday.”

Her blood went cold at the idea, and then went colder again as several members quietly scolded Kendrick. It was one thing that the news was literally out there, it was another thing that the brigade seemed to know and knew not to tell her.

“Oh god,” she breathed, not seeing Henry anywhere on the wall but eyes landing on either Captain Grant or the Commander instead, “were there pictures?”

Jones called up to her, his typical matter-of-fact nature tainted with a gentle concern. “Papers are for quick movement, ma’am, they don’t have pictures. Some books do, though.”

“They wouldn’t have had time to make a book about you yet, ma’am!” Miller’s obliviously cheerful voice came up in an attempt to console her before she could respond, immediately causing several hushes that he promptly ignored. “So no worries there!”

“Approaching the keep,” Wells called, unamused, from the front. “Best behaviour.”

“Yes sir,” she and the men replied, and turned up the slight hill to the gates.

If Captain Grant was in any kind of mood today, Melanie couldn’t decipher it. The saluting was fluid and she didn’t get any kind of reprimand for distance or proper etiquette, there was no comment made-- at least that she heard-- as she ducked through the front gate awkwardly again, and he made no effort to try and direct her attention or her person to any specific location once she was in. That left her to ask for direction.

“Sir,” she said, turning back to face him again after her team had finished putting their horses away. “Is the--?”

Grant’s hand went up in the hold position as he turned his attention to her, cutting her off. The hair on the back of her neck stood up-- this was new. She didn’t like this. She mimicked the motion back with a nod as he finished speaking with the lieutenant next to him, the man turning and marching off toward the barracks building at a good clip.

“Head toward where your items are being held,” the Captain instructed, and she was sure she saw him heave a silent sigh. “Travel with your squad.”

“Yes, s--”

“A nod is fine,” he said firmly, staring at her.

‘Ah,’ she thought, her teeth clamping closed as she fought the urge to grind them. ‘Another day of expected silence.’

If he wanted silence, he’d get it. Stubbornly so. The giant woman nodded, Wells already following the unspoken orders and arranging the brigade into position below, and moved to make her way toward the farthest part of the grounds when Grant’s voice caught her again. “Lemuels is with the other members of the council, he won’t be there.”

Melanie flicked her eyes up and down the blonde man as she watched him remove his hat and share pointed looks with the patrolmen nearest him atop the wall. She was sure her face was blasting her confusion as to what he was trying to get at; what he was trying to actually say to her with that remark. He simply stared back at her, his expression nearly blank, aside from the usual sourness that seemed permanently over him. “Behave appropriately for whoever is there,” he added flatly.

Another nod, and she turned to leave before he could actually provoke a reaction from her. It was going to be a ‘don’t speak unless you're spoken to, and even then don’t say much’ kind of day. She was fine with that.

Especially if that was going to wind up irritating him later.

Commander Martellis stood at the center of the long table in the meeting room, now arranged as ridiculously as possible-- to the Staff Sergeant and Duke’s design-- to look like a courtroom judge’s panel.

Henry stood in the center of the room before him, holding the latest item up for debate across his two hands. The sailor was addressing the Duke, who stood beside him in the stage-like area of the room, dressed in a much more… relaxed version of his Naval attire; the coat open, no vest to speak of, and the neckline of his shirt open just past his collarbone. Peter appreciated it. It set the tone that he was still in the clothing as he was required, but was very blatantly dodging the accusations that he was ‘impersonating an officer’. 

Questions of where his hat had wound up were a matter for later.

“It is silver,” Henry was explaining, the folded length of chain slack between his hands. “The buckle she would fasten it with was broken, and she had offered it to me as a keepsake. There had been a pendant at one time, but it was sentimental to her and so that remained with her.”

“Jewelry, then,” Hodge muttered under his breath as he seemed to merely pretend to take a note. “It will have to be appraised.”

“That’s up for debate,” the Staff Sergeant interjected. There was a faint groan from the Naval officer as he leaned forward to try and spy Thorne down toward the opposite end of the long, cobbled-together table.

“Precious metal from a foreign land, it needs to be appraised for the--” Hodge started to explain with a slow, pointed cadence that one might use with a child on the verge of a tantrum.

“It’s exempt from taxation and tithing,” Thorne blustered in on a stammer, flicking through multiple pages of notes that were spilled across the table in front of him and the members to either side of him as well. The man had always been very keen on taking, keeping, and having notes. One of his legitimate strengths. “He is a citizen of the nation and servant of the Kingdom, his occupation was as a serviceman directly under King--”

“Gentlemen,” the Duke interrupted with a tone that forewarned of reprimands. “As has been previously discussed, this is a matter of debate and approval for the whole of the council, and is to occur in Mr. Lemuels’ absence. Please withhold discussion until then.”

The Commander nodded toward the Duke before turning his eyes to the others in the room. “The purpose of this questioning is to detail the items for the benefit of those not present, that is all. Are there any other questions regarding this item?”

Peter noted the exceptional look of restraint on Henry’s features, his expression not blank but certainly trying to be. There were only a few other items to go over from his personal effects, but even Peter had to admit that due to some of their… blatant otherness, that didn’t mean they’d be out of this particular whirlpool anytime soon.

“I wouldn’t mind holding it,” Brund Franklin piped in quietly, no one else seemingly wanting to ask any questions about it. Henry turned quickly to oblige before even being given permission to do so, holding it out for the man to take. The Brund seemed almost delighted by the heft of the weight, and seemed interested in discussing it more, but Captain Cleary’s voice directed everyone to the next item.

Whether intentional or not, the Brund seemed pleasantly surprised by the freedom and trust to continue examining the item, offering an appreciative nod to Henry. The next thing Henry took out was a bobbin that had fishing line coiled tightly around it, drawing out some of the opaque wire for display as general mutterings came forth.

“This is--”

The door to the room swung open with barely a knock before it, only the Duke seeming unsurprised by the impolite entrance.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” the bright voice of the Duchess echoed around the room as the people in it began to settle again after several sharp salutes and polite bows. “We’ve completed our business and made our way back here to encourage the rest of you along.”

“Welcome back, General,” Commander Martellis offered as he gestured to the empty seats that had been left for Monitor Jacobson, Captain Hunt, and Ais’lyn to return to. “We’ve still a few items to go through.”

“Were there any issues, General?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed. “She had significantly more items wash ashore than I did.”

“Given you’re being interrogated, no questions will be asked of members of th--” Captain Cleary began in his deep voice before Ais’lyn’s sharp, cutting tone interrupted him as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

“Her items had been catalogued and questions asked of them days ago and recorded for our use, there were comparatively few inquiries remaining.” Her gloves hit the tabletop in front of her seat, Captain Hunt pulling the chair out from behind her politely, though her brief interlude to thank him for the gesture did nothing to soothe her rapid-fire criticisms. “Your items however, Mr. Lemuels, had to be first located and accounted for. Be glad that it was brought to our attentions or they were likely to have just been marked as lost and would’ve been yet another victim of poor bureaucratic filing practices.”

“As I have stated,” Thorne blustered from the back, “the items were improperly stored after retrieval, and they would have been found if--”

“As you all were, gentlemen,” Commander Martellis jumped in bluntly. “There are a number of things we’re required to get through today, and I would like to see us make progress before we’re giving up our weekend leave.”

“The Commander is correct,” the Duke stated. “I understand a number of you must begin travelling back to make your initial reports as early as Friday morning, so we shan’t dally further.”

Henry chewed lightly on his tongue as he tried not to display what a delight it was to hear that this insanity would only be going for five straight days instead of six, taking a deep breath and diving back into his items.

“What of the items that did not wash up from the vessel?” Hodge’s voice piped up.

“Are there items still floating in the bay?” Henry asked curiously, furrowing his brow.

“All items that had been loosed from the ship, including those on the outer side of the barrier stones, were collected and brought at least to shore, if not fully transported to the barracks,” Martellis responded with an air of tentative suspicion.

“I’m speaking of the items still aboard the vessel,” Hodge stressed, tapping his pencil on the table impatiently. “They’ll need to be accounted for and documented as well before the Inspectors arrive.”

Thorne jumped in before anyone else could say anything, which caused Peter to go stiff and square his shoulders even more as Henry watched. The Staff Sergeant spluttered his words out almost on a cough. “Surely they can’t be coming here on such short of a notice-- have they even been notified? That wasn’t cleared by the council! And--”

“I-I-- I notified them,” Monitor Jacobson stuttered out, looking positively offended. “We were granted the list of accounted-for items and as an elected official, I had a notice sent along immediately after the paperwork was presented yesterday.”

“That should have been a matter for the council to permit--” Cleary stated flatly as he glanced between Hodge and the Monitor, but the Brund stood to his feet with a scraping of the chair behind him.

“As direct representatives of His Majesty King Esteford Terence Vogunti, it is myself and the Monitor’s job to inform those of the Royal House and Banners of anything that should be considered immediate to their attention,” he shouted, a hand slamming onto the table. “The laws of this country state and have stated for nearly a century--”

“These are unprecedented circumstances and as such should be exempt from--”

“There is nothing ‘unprecedented’ about a foreigner coming to land on our shores, and that is obviously covered under the--”

“The formation of this council should be evidence enough of the unprecedented nature of this--!”

“The Brund is correct,” Duke William’s voice brought an immediate-- though tense-- quiet to the room. “Upon the acknowledgement of the items and their according documentation yesterday, the Brund and the Monitor were held to Sovereign Command that the information be passed to the Inspectors of the Royal House.”

His stare, while at no point directed to Henry, put the sailor to a mind to stand straighter, more proper, as the Duke wheeled it around the room to the members of the council. “It is too late now to change this, and while consideration would have been given to the members of this council for not immediately following through with Sovereign Commands given the circumstances, that is not the case. Pivot your discussions to something legitimately productive; I will not tolerate bickering any further.”

 Henry put his head back down and began arranging the spare navigational tools he had salvaged from the Massengale and was keeping as mementos, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. In all of the confusion of the last few days, he seemed to be the only one remembering he shouldn’t be here for this discussion with his rank and position still a matter of debate.

Lt. Commander Hodge, who had been openly aware that the Inspectors were already alerted, conceded after the tense pause to the Duke. “As his Grace has clarified, there’s nothing to be done to change it now, which presses on the question again: What of the items that remain on the vessel?”

 The room had started to bubble over again with chatter and arguments about the necessity of this conversation, and the sailor let out a small sigh as he wondered precisely how long he’d be in this damnable room today trying to get through the same box of items.

“As this conversation seems unlikely to die before we are put to the task of burying it ourselves,” Ais’lyn’s voice cut across again, not as immediate at calming the chatter as her husband but still a respect to her authority noted in the falling hush, “Lt. Commander, you bring up an excellent point.”

Hodge straightened himself up with a smile so proud you’d swear he was being awarded a medal.

“Monitor,” the General continued, turning to observe the man. “Were they given a date to be expected by?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Jacobson replied with a bow from his seat. “To account for any Inspectors who may be nearer to us than the capital and would answer the summons, I’ve set the date for Monday to give time for arrival and situating.”

“Brilliant work,” the General said with a faint flash of a smile. Henry’s eyes lifted from his items only enough to take in the sight of Peter’s face. If there was any stock Henry should be putting into his gut feelings that the General’s enthusiasm was… dangerous, Peter’s face didn’t speak to it. “So, Lieutenant Commander, you would agree then that we would require those items at the very least cleared for documenting by the weekend, yes?”

“I would,” Hodge stated in plain confidence. “The vessel itself has been untouched for a week-- at least by official hands-- and what presence the Navy has had in these waters has been interrupted repeatedly by the need to keep prying eyes away from the thing. We’re lucky it hasn’t caused any issues thus far to the vessel and crew here for training purposes.”

“Very lucky,” Ais’lyn responded with a nod. “So we’ll be needing to make the motion immediately as a council to allow for the vessel to be cleared. Agreed?”

“Agreed, wholeheartedly,” Hodge replied, his chest puffing out as several other voices around the room agreed openly. 

“Excellent.”

As her near-praise echoed in the room, Henry could feel it: the electricity in the air. Again, he looked at Peter and saw nothing of concern or intuition on the Commander’s face; just the plain look of observation. Then, Henry turned to his other side, where the Duke was still standing beside him, his hands at the edge of the table where he had been laying his things.

Hands that were white knuckled with restraint as they gripped the edge of the wood where no one other than two of them would see.

The Duchess was up to something.

As her eyes turned to lock with Henry’s, the emerald flames in them roared like they could reach out and burn the whole room around him, and he tensed as he waited for whatever was about to happen next.

“Mr. Lemuels.”

She struck the match.

“Yes, General Ais’lyn.”

He watched her drop it to the floor.

“How soon would you be able to have Melanie return to her vessel so that she can clear it for--”

The room ignited.

“Her?”

“Preposterous--”

“That can’t be allowed, she has to be monitored by--”

“Silence!” The Duke bellowed, causing Henry to jump nearly out of his skin, though he took some solace in the knowledge he hadn’t been the only one. “My love, explain.”

It was a command that still, despite his accent, despite his posture, despite his eyes, was a request that offered at least enough respect that the Duchess did not falter. “As we decided yesterday, the vessel is decidedly the property of Melanie and Melanie alone…”

Henry’s eyes moved to scan quickly over the expressions of everyone else as they sat in their chairs, some leaning, turned to face Ais’lyn as best as they could, some simply sitting, staring out as they listened. This decision had been made without him, something he would’ve argued against openly so that there would be at least two persons attached for the sake of protection of their property, their goods, and their ship.

 Already, he could see the varying looks of revelation coming across the Monitor, Captain Cleary, and Captain Hunt.

 “Being it is a foreign vessel stranded firmly at the end of our waters and our reach, it falls outside of our jurisdiction,” she continued clearly, flipping idly through notes she pulled from the inside of her jacket as she spoke. “The law of which is clear: It is her property, she is only able to give permission for others to board, observe, catalogue, what-have-you if she is on the property herself.”

 “Preposterous,” the voice of Hodge spat again, his face marred with rage and confusion both; something Henry believed it should be used to by now. “She requires a full escort at all times--”

 “Only insofar as our border extends to the stones,” Captain Hunt interrupted heavily, his face not giving much away in terms of how he felt on this turn of events. “The Decrees of Truth are explicit that if she is not a prisoner, which we have clarified already, then her property as it stands outside of our borders-- and frankly even if it was within our borders if we were to delve deeper into the amendments-- is her property and is not to be touched or desecrated if we are not at war with her country.”

“So be it,” Captain Cleary uttered under his breath so low that were he not so close to Henry as he was, the sailor might not have heard it at all. He cleared his throat, the General evidently waiting for him to speak. “She requires an escort then, which would include her Liaison, and as such invites the Watch to escort them both, to and from the--”

“Mr. Lemuels is not a member of the Watch,” Commander Martellis’ voice shot out clearly, almost casually. “He is merely afforded sanctuary here until such a time as his role is decided.”

Cleary’s brow knit together so tightly Henry was sure his entire skull shrank to make the two dark bushels meet. “He was presented to this council initially as a member of the Watch, for the purposes of--”

“Which was the intent, and as was placed openly on the itinerary yesterday, he was to be confirmed as a Captain so that he could be assigned duty over Melanie directly within the Watch. We were, however, unable to do so.”

“Where Mr. Lemuels’ is a free agent of the country at this time, she would not necessarily have to agree to take him to her vessel if she was so inclined,” Captain Hunt added darkly.

Brund Franklin took a deep breath in through his nose that whistled just enough to get every head to turn to him. “If she had consented to her liaison being a member of the Watch, then--”

“Gentlemen.”

The sweet, melodic voice of the Duchess startled Henry away from the incredible visual of all of the pieces clicking into place for Cleary just a shade too late.

“This is a discussion that must wait until after we have finished going over Henry Lemuels’ belongings and any further questioning you may all have of him.” Her eyes moved like they were taking a moment to sear into every individual in the room that she could see from her seat. 

As they came to rest on Henry himself, he felt as if literal heat were washing over him from them. All the man could do was simply nod, pick up the next item, and move as if none of what had just happened had been noticed by him at all.

It was a skill he had become quite good at over the last two years.

Chapter Text

Stubbornness.

There was a lot to be said of it, usually.

Today though, nothing was being said of it.

Because Melanie was, stubbornly, refusing to say much of anything. At all.

Miller had been right, thankfully, and the day was warm enough that the chill had left her almost as soon as they had entered the grounds proper, but even regardless of that, the interrogation she had been put under by the General and the two men with her, plus their assistants, was enough to have her nearly sweating.

There was something about Ais’lyn, in particular, that made her feel compelled to speak more, to explain more, but knew that was a dangerous game to play. Holding back her tongue was where most of her stress had come from.

 For a lot of the items-- particularly what their purpose would be, what they were made of, and so on-- the answers they had gotten from her a few days ago were sufficient, but it was clear there were… concerns about others.

To her surprise and relief, none of the concerns involved her phone.

The General had also been a little… confused, at first, at the giant’s unwillingness to chatter, before simply shrugging it off at the sound of Captain Grant giving orders on his way through the grounds behind them. All Melanie could hope was that she knew who to blame for it, and tried to relax knowing the Duchess seemed accepting that she wasn’t open to conversation this morning.

Since then, barring no other orders, the fifty-foot woman decided to force some out of the only person with apparent authority to give her any by clearing space among her items and laying down on the grass. She had assumed the visual of her being comfortable, relaxed, perhaps even lazy would’ve driven the Captain to finding something productive for her to do…

But as she now lay stewing in her own irritation for what must be nearing an hour, if the chatter around her was any indication, it was obvious the Captain had no qualms at all with her melting into the barracks grounds and growing moss instead of being useful. This was extra irritating, because being irritated by it meant she wasn’t able to nap.

So, stubbornly, she continued to aim her vision at the sky and tried to both ignore and eavesdrop on the conversations around her.

It was an unpleasant balancing act. She enjoyed listening to the banter between the brigade members or casual conversations between people on the grounds as they wandered by. She liked to make sure she was able to hear things like orders that might pertain to her, or even just involve members of the Brigade. She even found it useful just to try and learn how the barracks and the Watch worked in all of these different ways that she could pick up on from listening.

What she didn’t like were the comments that would get made about her. They had gotten to be much less over the last few days, but the occasional ‘is it asleep?’ was enough to make her twitch. Most of the barracks was… not accustomed to her, per se, but they were at least becoming less openly upset about her presence. 

Melanie had even had grand ideas that she would try to talk to people she didn’t know today, before the Captain activated whatever spite that had somehow remained dormant after Devon’s remarks. At least the Brigade was understanding enough with her short, mostly non-verbal replies to things. They also seemed to be fairly certain the orders to reduce conversation were still in place, as well, so this entire corner of the barracks was just as awkward as it could be.

When the sun had finally risen to a point she couldn’t avoid it, she tossed her arm over her eyes and pretended to be asleep in the hopes it would make everyone feel slightly less awkward. Whether or not it worked was impossible to tell, really, and just as she was settling into the idea that she could just… enjoy the quiet until lunch call, a voice was very suddenly almost directly in her ear.

“Heard you’re suffering from lockjaw, Miss,” the bright warm voice laughed at her. Her arm sprung up and away from her face as her eyes bolted open, trying to locate the form of Lionus before she turned her head; the man was practically on top of her. “Figured now would be a good time to check you over for anything I could help with.”

“Where the hell have you been?” She asked with a playful smirk, carefully rolling onto her side to look at him once she was sure he wouldn’t get hit by her. The Medic Corporal let out a surprised laugh and pointed at the hat he was wearing.

“Decorum now, Miss!” He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m an Officer still, I’ll have you know.”

“Where the hell have you been, sir, then,” she replied with a laugh of her own, propping herself up on an arm. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. Was wondering if you transferred out.”

“Put your head back down,” he ordered, waving at her until she sighed and let it fall with a slight thud back onto the grass, bold as brass as he walked directly over to check the now-scar over her eyebrow. “I’ve been busy in the medical wing training up more people to keep you and your platoon together, is where I’ve been,” the small man explained.

“You couldn’t make Devon do that?” She asked, feeling him tap her head with his knuckles lightly as he laughed. “You had to send him with me?”

Lionus took several steps back to his pack, looking over his shoulders as he came back into focus for her. His voice dropped and he flashed probably the first non-genuine smile she had seen him give anyone since she’d arrived. “He does better with the guests, miss, if we can keep that between us.”

She tipped her head back in a quick nod. “Wish you could take me with you so we could leave them all to him, honestly,” she breathed back, both of them chuckling.

“Doesn’t work like that I’m afraid,” he replied, coming back toward her head with a pouch full of something new. It had a nice smell.

“Is it still bad up there?” She asked as the cool cream or gel or whatever started to spread over it. Lionus took a quick, staggering step back with a flourish of apologies.

“Oh no miss, sorry-- got up in my head for a second there. Just to help with the scarring. It’s fully healed but the skin could use a bit of a hand filling back in to avoid reopening,” he said, making sure her eyes were on him while he spoke before moving back in to finish covering it.

“Don’t apologize,” she said quietly with a chuckle. “You’re doing me a favour.”

“I’m doing my job, miss,” he replied, patting her head twice with his clean hand before standing back. “Part of the job is making sure you’re fully informed of what’s happening if you’re conscious and lucid enough for it.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, following his waving to prop herself back up again before looking down at her legs and the thick jeans she was wearing. “I didn’t wear pants I could roll up over the knee for you, is that going to be a problem?”

“Ah,” he said, turning to look at them himself. “Yes, honestly. Don’t have much of a liking to the idea of non-private treatment in that instance.” The small man let out a long huff of breath through his nose. “You’ve been walking on it fine enough, but Devon said you didn’t give him time for a--”

“No,” she stressed, her voice a bit louder than a whisper just to make sure it was clear. “It was his fault I was jogging to that damn pool before the sun was up,” she continued in a mutter. “And I just… I’m less comfortable with him in that regard.”

Lionus’ hands went to his hips, holding the rag he used to wipe the medicine off of himself, giving her a skeptical look. “If I can offer you a bit of peace of mind on it,” he said, glancing over his shoulders again quickly. “He’s a medic, and a fine doctor. Bodies don’t throw him off.”

Melanie took her own turn to scan the area, her attending members giving them a wide berth and making a solid perimeter to keep onlookers and eavesdroppers away. “Not really my body that’s the concern,” she mumbled, shooting him a skeptical look right back. “He can’t do the knee. Everything else? Fine, but that one is out.”

Lionus furrowed his brow, turning to finish packing up his things. “Why don’t you want him near your knee? Did he threaten to amputate it?”

Her cheeks flushed red and she lowered herself back down to rest her head on a folded arm, squirming uncomfortably. “No, I mean-- knee needs me to get him up to it if anything needs to set in it,” she mumbled, “and I don’t like the--”

“Is he still on about that?” Lionus snapped quickly, turning back around and looking irritated. “He needs to get over it, he’s a doctor, for King’s sake, and--”

“No.” Melanie’s arm had flown out, curving around the Corporal to block his path as he turned to head toward the road, presumably to go look for Devon. He turned back to look at her, his expression softening immensely at the marks of extreme concern and worry on her features that he took a moment to look at and piece together. “Lionus, please… I’ve been through this before, I don’t want to go through it again if it can be avoided. Give him some time,” she breathed, glancing from him to the area around, hoping they hadn’t gotten anyone’s attention. “The grabbing and touching is a problem to people, I get it-- I understand, but don’t force him to deal with it. It’s just gonna make a mess for everyone.”

Lionus crossed his arms as he stared at her, nodding his head a few times. “...Alright, miss. He needs to get past it at some point though. Don’t let him avoid it forever.” She opened her mouth to reply and he held up a hand to hold her off, taking a few steps back to sit on her forearm. “I don’t want you uncomfortable-- either of you. Trust me on that, if’n you could, but he has to be the one in charge when I’m not there. He’s the one I depend on the most.”

She smiled faintly, nodding her head again. “I promise, we’ll get there. It just… I’m already dealing with a lot here, I’d rather avoid that until I get some time to breathe.”

“...You said you’ve dealt with it before?” the Corporal asked after a moment, making himself comfortable on her sleeve. She simply nodded, her smile turning in at the corners uncomfortably. “He carries it well now.”

“He had to get used to it fast,” she whispered, her eyes moving to glance up at the wall as if she expected to see Henry poking his head over it. “It was… rocky. There were a few incidents that made it harder. Honestly thought it would be much harder here, but a lot of you seem to have more bravery than sense.”

“I personally consider it professionalism when it comes to myself, miss,” he said with a chuckle. “But with most of the rest of them, yes, that does apply.”

“I’m happy to have it,” she replied with a smile, “whatever it is.”

“And I’m happy you’re back to normal conversation,” he retorted, patting the back of her arm. “Was worried when I heard how little chatting you’ve been doing.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep being worried. Captain’s probably going to chew me out for saying more than four words in a row,” she groaned with an eyeroll. Lionus seemed surprised, opening his mouth to say something when a sharp ‘decorum’ came from above them on the wall. 

The Corporal wiped at his nose with the back of his hand in an attempt to hide his laughter, the giant woman’s face running the gamut of surprise, fear, and embarrassment in front of him. He cleared his throat and stated, pretty clearly, “Captain was the one who gave me permission to come check you for treatment, miss.”

“Ah,” she barely squeaked out, her face feeling so red it may as well be burned. She cleared her own throat, trying to move past it. “Speaking of treatment. What are we going to do about the knee?”

“And your back,” Lionus added, frowning thoughtfully as he removed his hat and ran fingers through brown, wavy hair. “...I’ll ask the Commander for clearance to travel to the Training Grounds with you all this evening. Hopefully we can find some privacy there, or we’ll wander to the pool again if need be. I’d suggest the tent but that’s been clearly stated as a no-trespassing zone until the council clears it, which could be days yet.”

“At least it’s dry,” she mumbled. “Hopefully I get to use it before it rots. Either way, that works for me.”

“Glad to hear it, miss. Meanwhile, I need to get back to the medical wing before that council lets out and they realize I’m here,” he chuckled, patting her arm one last time before helping himself up. “Is there anything else you ne--”

Anything he may have said after that was instantly and completely drowned out as the sound hit her, long and steady. Her body moved so quickly as her head raised and her arm slid out from behind him to help brace herself that had he still been sitting on it she was sure he would’ve tumbled to the ground like someone pulling a rug out from under him.

“Miss?” the Corporal blurted out, concerned, and she noticed her heart was pounding practically between her ears, it had jumped so high up her throat. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, her eyes wide as she started to calm down, calls of ‘liaison on approach’ coming down the wall from the barracks to them. “I… hadn’t heard the whistle since before we got here.”

Melanie took several steadying breaths as Lionus simply watched her in fascination, the giant woman rolling over to push herself into a kneeling position with a few grunts, almost forcibly and painfully slowly compared to how fast she seemed to want to get up. Her eyes landed on his and she flashed an awkward smile. “Would you like a lift to the wall, sir?”

Grant had snapped so quickly from his position leaned slightly over the wall to full attention he was certain he nearly threw his hip out, his gaze moving to find the source of the call. His previously peeved expression came back instantly on seeing the flapping blue coat and that long, chocolate hair striding toward him at a good clip from the barracks, though the man’s eyes weren’t on him.

Honestly, the Captain didn’t know if that was more annoying or less.

He was preparing the words he was hoping to tear into the man with regarding the use of a mariner’s whistle near active training exercises, when a massive burst of movement to his right caused him to turn and stagger backwards from the parapets, Melanie’s head appearing over them with a faint shift in the air. She had managed to even get her coat back on without him noticing. He would’ve pivoted to correcting her with some choice words, but suddenly her arm was coming over the parapet as her eyes glanced between what she was doing and Henry multiple times, and she gave quiet and rapidly uttered directions to Lionus as she helped him stand up from her hand and slide from her palm down to the top of the wall. 

“All good?” She asked, checking on the Corporal directly as he flashed that irritatingly friendly smile to her with a nod and a wave, her vision breaking to look at Henry again before the man could answer.

“Thank you for the lift, miss. The knees appreciate it,” he laughed, turning from them both and saluting the Captain on the other side of her. 

Grant returned the salute more through reflex than choice, his brain making a horrible grinding noise as it tried to process everything that was making him angry all at once. “Ethridge,” he said in curt greeting. “Is your work here done?”

Lionus inclined his head with a knowing smile, letting out a silent sigh. “Yes, just heading back to the wing now. Have a good day, Captain.”

They saluted again and the medic struck off toward Henry, exchanging a few words as they were passing each other pertaining to if the council had adjourned or if the sailor had just managed to escape. They shared a tired laugh between the two of them, and Melanie and Grant both waited for Henry to finish approaching before bothering to acknowledge each other at all.

“That was hell,” he said bluntly before he had finished closing the gap, his gait still a little stiff but not needing the cane today. He gestured to Melanie with his good arm. “How was yours?”

“Not great but survivable,” she managed on a breath to get out before Grant let out a sharp ‘decorum’ on a surprisingly non-aggressive sigh.

“Council proceedings are private, to remind you both,” he said, looking between them.

“Yes, sir,” the giant woman replied quickly, respectfully. It was enough to make Grant pause a moment before inclining his head in acknowledgement.

The Captain turned back to the sailor with raised eyebrows. “Anything for me?”

Henry shook his head but took another step closer and lowered his voice. “General is setting something up in there, as far as I could tell while I was standing next to the Duke. Not sure what, but I imagine we’ll all be hearing about it before long.”

Grant nodded, his shoulders somehow tensing further at the thought. “Chances they’ll be out in time for lunch?”

“High,” Henry admitted with a shrug. “The General was sure to remind them of what wound up happening yesterday.”

“...Well that’s all that counts for good news these days,” the blonde man replied as he reached up to take off his hat. “The Commander?”

“Peter’s as well as can be expected, helped that he seemed to get more rest last night than the night before from all I could tell.”

“Can we petition the council to get him a vacation?” Melanie’s voice piped in, making the Captain jump slightly. Her tone, while not completely earnest, was genuinely concerned.

“Avoid speaking,” Grant ordered, moving briefly to try and lean as if could somehow see around the 50-foot woman in front of him and instead giving up and staring into one of her eyes instead. “Your voice likely carries all the way to the council room.”

“We haven’t heard her all morning,” Henry jumped in defensively before Melanie and Daniel both turned to him, responding at the same time.

“I haven’t been speaking all morning.”
“She hasn’t been speaking all morning.”

Grant shot her another look and she nodded with as much respect as she could genuinely muster, letting out a quiet ‘yes sir’ and moving to stand at ease.

Henry tensed, looking between the two of them as his hair practically tried to stand on end. “I’d like to have a conversation with her,” he stated firmly, staring down the Captain.

Daniel was unphased and unamused, simply staring back flatly at the sailor. “...Try to keep it as private as you can manage.”

“Permission to go to her tent?”

“Denied, inside the tent is out of the question for anyone until the council decrees,” the Captain explained. “You can take your guards to the--”

“Don’t call them guards,” Henry interrupted, flexing the fingers on his slung hand. “You make her sound like a prisoner.”

There was a tense pause as Daniel chewed over the thought before letting out a small huff of air from his nose. “You can take your… team members, then, to the scaffolding by the tent and converse there.”

“Thank you, sir,” Melanie interjected before the two small men could volley back and forth with each other again, leaning to press her shoulder against the wall and lining it up between two parapets.

Again, Grant opened his mouth for choice words regarding leaning on the infrastructure when Henry’s grunting stopped him in his tracks. He watched as the sailor hauled himself up on the stone rail with the help of a parapet and walked straight out onto her shoulder, gripping at the support strap, not even finding the sense of mind to shake his head at the sight.

“You’ll know where to find us,” Henry stated simply as Melanie turned and adjusted her stance to line the two men up to face each other. The giant woman saluted the Captain first, before Henry checked his balance enough to let go and salute him as well. Again, Daniel was sure he saluted back by reflex over intention, and as he watched her turn both of their backs to him and lower herself to speak with her teammates, he realized it was now too late to correct either of them on the various things they needed to be corrected on.

Chapter Text

“Glad you got your things back,” the giant woman was saying as they took long strides down the hill, her boots digging into the horse-trampled earth that counted as a road to the back entrance. 

“I don’t intend to use the whistle outside of emergencies,” Henry explained in quick defense, adjusting his footing and his lean with the slope. “But I had to make sure its pitch hadn’t been thrown off. I also couldn’t see you once I exited the building.”

Melanie let out a sigh of relief, waving with the arm that Henry wasn’t trying to balance over to the guards that were stationed by the tent, realizing a little too late that none of them were members of the Brigade. “Glad to know I was unnoticeable to at least someone,” she breathed, Henry uttering a quiet ‘mind’ into her ear as she, Jones, Penelope, and both of their horses finished approaching. “Good morning,” she said quietly to the guards, who seemed a little awkward but not perturbed by her.

“Good morning,” the shorter one with visible dark scruff all over his face returned. “Are we being relieved?”

Jones jumped in before the giant woman could think of an answer, kneeling down and helping Henry to the ground. “No orders as such to change shifts, remain as you are until your regular lunch calls.”

“You could eat lunch with us,” she added quietly to the two of them. “Miller brings lunch down and usually has more than enough for everyone.”

“I’d be more than fine with not having to hike back up the hill,” the short-haired man replied with a stretch, taking his hat off with Jones and Penelope.

“Glad to hear it, Ash,” Jones said, patting him amicably on the shoulder. “You and Donner been here long?”

“Since second call to breakfast,” Ash replied, Jones already leading him and Donner to the farther side of the tent from the scaffolding, Melanie and Henry heading the opposite way as the Lieutenant engaged the others in conversation.

“I like Jones,” Henry said quietly into her ear as she settled on the grass, her back very eager to continue lying down. Her only response was a quiet chuckle and a smirk toward the side he was lowering himself to sit next to.

Melanie’s hands got busy undoing her coat to let it flop open, the sun of the day warm enough to be a little much for her at this point, even as the winds were now starting to change. “So…” she prompted the small sailor next to her after a quiet moment and a soft breeze had passed them over.

“I am making no friends,” he stated bluntly. “But things are moving along. The inspectors will be here on Monday, from how it sounds, at which point be prepared to explain as much as you can about what everything is made of.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed back, closing her eyes with a nod. She knew that was all coming.

“I shouldn’t get your hopes up, but we’ll need to access Swift before they arrive,” he said with a sigh. “That was the fight I left them on. Don’t be too upset if it falls apart somehow; the council is… well.”

“I’m still riding the high of you getting your things back.”

“Well, that might be a false blessing as well. Arguments regarding whether they should be appraised or not were brought up. That’s bureaucratic outside of the military, so I’m less concerned with that. Did the General and her entourage give you much issue?”

“None really, a few questions about the use of some of my things. The boogie-board is going to be the hardest to explain, probably,” she replied, shrugging and nearly bumping him.

Henry’s foot lifted to push against her shoulder. “Would you like to explain to me why you weren’t talking all morning?”

“I was under orders,” she said simply. “Captain’s,” she added, before Henry could ask.

The small man sighed. “Seemed like Lionus came to your rescue at least in that regard.”

“Apparently under Captain’s orders, which just makes me wonder if it was some kind of test or trap,” she muttered, her irritation bubbling to the surface again.

“Mind,” he drawled quietly in warning.

“Sorry,” she said, heaving a sigh of her own as she sank into the warm ground and grass a little more. “At least you’re free of the council now, so we can spend time talking while my standing lunch-dates with the General are on hold.”

“She was planning on doing those regularly?” he asked, and the giant woman couldn’t help but to turn her head, adjusting backward to get her focus back and regard the man out of one eye, the grass long enough to irritate the lower one.

“You sound jealous,” she teased. “She’s a married woman, you know.”

Henry draped the good arm over a bent knee as he shot her a look that explained in detail that had he anything to throw at her, he would. “I just didn’t think she’d be the kind to go and have you traipsing through the countryside mid-day every day.”

“Oh no,” Melanie started, “that was just--”

She cut herself off before she mentioned Marienne. That was a private meeting at Ais’lyn’s insistence, and she had every reason to believe it was because it was well known that if Henry heard she had been introduced to a member of the Navy, he’d have a large number of strong feelings to state about it. She hesitated a second as the small man’s expression grew more and more skeptical.

“She wanted to give me a breather away from everything at the barracks. It was a lot to handle. We were planning on most of the lunches just happening here.”

The sailor’s head inclined with a softer look, he knew that was true. He knew the Duchess had been concerned about that very thing quite specifically, honestly. “I suppose she felt that with myself and the Commander in the council meetings, you could use someone to take you away from the… tension here every once in a while.”

“Is that what we’re calling him?”

“Hush,” Henry scolded, kicking at her shoulder as she adjusted back to her original position with breathy chuckles. “There’s nothing I can do about Daniel, we both just have to play nice. If I had been made Captain, we’d have some more room to self-direct, but the likelihood of that seems impossible now.”

A low groan escaped her before she could stop it. “Really?”

“Yes,” Henry stated, watching as a horse and rider came barrelling down from the Barracks’ back gate, no doubt with some kind of news or orders for one or more of them based on the speed. “Half of them barely wanted to treat me as more than a stray dog in there. The idea they’d agree to make me a Captain now that they’ve become so accustomed to showing superiority over me is frankly laughable.”

“I’ll take some solace in the fact you aren’t laughing, then,” she hummed, oblivious to the oncoming visitor. “I don’t want to have to worry too much about who I’m taking orders from. I’d prefer it was you.”

“Well, now would be a good time to start getting used to the idea,” he sighed, watching Jones and the rider talking. “Wells would be a very good choice as Captain, he’s very good with directing the lift drills and coming up with strategies.”

“He doesn’t know lift drills, though,” she levelled. “He still defers to you, or sometimes me. He’s good at everything after that, but--”

“He can still defer to me even if he’s officially ‘the captain’,” he said bluntly, watching the two men now turning to come toward him, the rider going at a slow trot. “You and I,” he added as he pushed himself to stand with a series of grunts as he did it one handed, “need to talk about lift drills, as well. Hopefully by this weekend.”

“Yeah,” Melanie replied, finally turning her head just enough to see they had visitors. She pushed herself up with her own quiet grunts. “Need to do a bit of troubleshooting.”

“Sir!” Jones called, gesturing to the man on horseback who was rather aggressively keeping the horse on point as they continued to approach. It had to be one of the solely-barracks horses that hadn’t been desensitized to her yet. “First Lieutenant Hollis says you’re needed back with the council.”

“Than--” Henry started before a giant finger nudged him gently from behind.

“Maybe they’re making you Captain,” the woman said hopefully.

“They’re not making me Captain,” he muttered, barely turning to address her before turning back to the lieutenants. “Thank you, Lieutenant Hollis. Is it urgent?”

“They’d like you to be back up for the lunch call, sir,” the man replied. He had a stern voice, but it lacked any other real character to it. In truth, at least to Melanie, it sounded almost dull, which just seemed slightly more unsettling as one of his hands moved to the butt of his holstered pistol. “Just you.”

Her hands raised in vague surrender, uttering a quiet apology as Hollis’ horse took a wary step out of line and needed to be corrected. She knew when she was being subtly addressed, especially when someone was making a very pointed effort to not look at her directly.

“You can ride-along back up with me, sir,” Jones said politely, nodding toward Henry. “Probably wouldn’t hurt to make sure there are enough hands to bring lunch down.”

“Right you are, Jones, thank you very much,” the sailor replied before turning to address the giant woman directly, Jones wandering off to get the other two horses. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call.”

“You say that like you think it could be unpleasant up there,” she said, the small man shooting her a warning look. “It could be good news, you never know.”

Her teasing smirk did nothing to soften the warning look he was giving her, though Henry could admit that it was nice to see she was feeling at least light hearted enough to joke after how stressed she seemed this morning. “They aren’t going to make me Captain,” he repeated heavily.

“...What if they do?” She asked, her head tilting to the side as Jones started coming their way again. Hollis was still sitting on his own horse with a tight hold on the reins to keep the black and white gelding steady, pointedly pretending not to pay any attention to either of them.

“You’ve got nothing to wager,” he replied over his shoulder, the blue coat flapping behind him as he started walking to meet his ride.

“They’ve got chess boards here.”

He hesitated. It was enough to get Hollis’ attention with a thickly furrowed brow and a confused expression that looked more like a pout. Henry’s good hand twiddled its fingers quickly as he considered the implication. “Three games.”

“You never answered my question, I’m not agreeing to anything,” she shot back.

Milk chocolate hair in its low ponytail swung out as he spun back around. “If they make me Captain,” he declared loudly, “I’ll be wearing whatever hat they give me for the rest of the day.”

Melanie’s giant hazel eyes squinted toward him. “...For three games?” she asked, incredulously.

“And tomorrow, then,” he said firmly, getting impatient.

“Agreed,” she said with a nod, that smirk coming back to her face. “I’ll make it five games if you push your wager until the end of the week.”

“Not on your life,” he called, waving with his good arm as he showed her his back again, Jones helping him onto the horse. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, Captain,” she replied, and he shook his head as they wheeled to leave. “See you soon, Jones. Have a good day, Hollis.”

Hollis tensed at the surprise of being addressed by her, his horse stomping awkwardly as neither of them seemed to know how to react for a moment. He turned to look at her, an almost offended expression on his face as a hand moved to rest on the butt of his pistol again. “...Lieutenant Hollis.”

“Sorry, sir,” she said quietly, her eyebrows raising in surprise. It was all he said to her.

As they rode toward the back gates, Henry alongside Jones’ horse, the Lieutenant obviously couldn’t hold back his curiosity. “Didn’t know she liked chess that much, sir,” he said casually, the lead-rope for Henry’s horse held loosely in one hand.

“Oh, you grossly misunderstand,” the sailor laughed. “I’m the one who likes it.”

“You taught her to play chess?” Hollis asked bluntly from the back.

Henry’s hackles went up a little at the man’s tone, but he at least had the sense to address her like a person. He couldn’t take offense to every question he got asked about her. “I tried,” he replied. “If she had bothered to pay attention enough to learn from me, she’d probably be quite good.”

“Why play her, then?” Hollis asked again.

“Do you play chess, Lieutenant?”

“I’m a fair hand at it, not regularly at a board though.”

“Sometimes playing a complete novice is as challenging, or more, than playing a master,” Henry explained. It was a more… eloquent explanation than that he revelled in how frustrated the woman got while playing. Some of his favourite conversations of theirs had happened around a chess board when she was just at the perfect point of irritation.

“Is a hat really a fair counter to that wager, then?” Jones asked, amused.

Henry laughed loudly. “It was never going to be a fair counter, no matter how much of a distaste I have for the things,” he stated firmly, clearly. “It’s a safe wager for me. I won’t be wearing any hats.”

The end to dinner call was sounding loudly, interrupting the Duke as he addressed the gathered members of the council and the Watch on the wall. He was also addressing Melanie, but her position was decidedly next to the wall, instead of on it.

He also seemed to be making a pointed effort to not address her completely directly, which she assumed was because she was doing an imperfect job at hiding the smile on her face. 

“--assigned the rank of Captain, in among the specific branch of the Eastern Coastal Watch, where Captain Lemuels will oversee all operations to the degree befitting his rank, as it pertains to The Giant, Melanie,” the Duke continued as the dinner call finally stopped echoing around the grounds, it doing no good in stopping his Grace from speaking, and only harming the ability from anyone not directly beside him to hear what had happened in the middle.

The important part was loud and clear though:

Henry would be wearing a hat.

He would also be wearing an overly sour expression the entire time it was on, if his face at the moment was of any indication. Someone-- Melanie presumed Ais’lyn-- had forced him to button his coat properly and found him one of the dark Captain hats for the Watch; a completely different style from what the navy would wear, and reminded ‘The Giant’ of a brightly-dressed conductor of some kind.

That was another thing that had evidently happened over the course of meetings today, as well. She was now constantly being referred to, at least in an Official Manner, as ‘The Giant, Melanie’, and she wouldn’t exactly have been shocked to learn that the ‘Melanie’ was a fight and an argument.

As she looked at the line of councilmembers in front of her, she believed she could take a very solid guess at exactly which half wanted which, because she could only see this being a matter of half wanting one thing, and half wanting the other. The Duke continued to talk, announcing-- in as many words as he seemingly knew how to use-- everything that was decided in the council meetings today.

“The council will send members to the current staging area of the Northern Woods training facilities, for the purposes of cataloguing and categorizing the held foreign items there ahead of the arrival of the Royal--” the Duke was continuing as Melanie tuned out again, her eyes trying specifically not to land on Henry for fear she might actually start laughing at the poor man. His expression just seemed to be getting more and more annoyed every time they locked eyes, and that delighted her in a way she was a little ashamed to admit.

So they’d be coming to the training grounds tomorrow, which meant she would not be travelling to the barracks until after those duties were handled, or that she would be travelling back and forth multiple times. They couldn’t-- according to laws she had had explained to her several pointed times over the afternoon by Theresa-- access or investigate her things without her presence given her specific position as a non-hostile foreign visitor. The language seemed extremely important.

“--and The Giant, Melanie’s measurements acquired for purposes of requesting the construction of matching and appropriate attire for her position within the Eastern Coastal Watch--”

Her massive eyes blinked, snapping back in too late to fully understand what the Duke was announcing beyond her measurements. They were making her a uniform? Or equipment? Her stomach churned and her weight shifted as subtly from one leg to the other as she could manage at her size, but the sharp turn of Captain Grant’s head toward her told her that was a useless goal to try and achieve.

A uniform or anything of the sort for her would be for show and show alone. She could already hear the arguments of how expensive she was, how impractical so many of the expenses were. She inhaled deeply through her nose and focused her attention fully on the Duke, hoping that these announcements would be over soon.

“--request to follow for the construction of a more permanent rest location for The Giant, Melanie, at a location yet to be determined and agreed upon, with a design yet to be created, submitted, or approved.”

Duke William cleared his throat, looking around to the gathered members of the council, their attendants, and the members of the Watch in turn before making a final, clear point. “All operations are under the full and absolute jurisdiction of the Eastern Coastal Watch and its Command. These are Coastal Watch grounds, all are expected to obey orders of expected behaviour here.”

The last point had seemed strange to the large woman, but she had no time to dwell on it before the Duke was dismissing everyone that had been gathered. Massive eyes turned to find Henry again as a number of the Watch members took their orders from Captain Grant and began to disperse, but Miller caught her attention-- and most everyone else’s-- before she could make eye contact with the sailor.

“Ma’am! Any idea what colour our uniforms will be?” He asked with excitement as he approached the wall, a call of ‘decorum’ following him.

She smirked, shaking her head. “No, any preference?”

The giant woman took a step back from the wall carefully, making sure no one was immediately behind her first as she started to dig into her breast pockets carefully, looking for something as Miller laughed. “I don’t believe they’re looking to take requests from me, ma’am, and I’m pretty easy-goin’. I’d like anything, really.”

“You’re a sub-branch of the Watch,” Captain Grant’s voice got both of their attentions as he approached alongside Miller, Melanie’s brow furrowing as she glanced up to see Henry-- her Captain-- surrounded by members of the council and the Watch fielding a large number of questions and looking positively irritated. “The colours will likely be derivative of the existing ones with a change in the accents so you don’t get confused as fully autonomous.”

His piercing blue eyes shot over the wall to the woman who was slightly over his eye-level while standing on the ground and shot her a stern stare. “It’s not a matter up for discussion, at this point.”

The stressed word was enough to get his point across: Shut up, the adults are speaking. “Yes, sir,” she replied firmly with a nod, fixing her posture as best as she could on the slightly uneven ground. 

Miller seemed to be very aware that any conversation had just gotten significantly harder, and his face broadcasted his disappointment and sympathy both before turning from her to salute Grant. He was dismissed, almost begrudgingly, to await orders from ‘his new Captain’, barring no orders from the Commander, and Grant at least did her the favour of turning to face away from her as best as possible-- even if she was feeling more and more upset at him literally standing guard to keep her from conversing and didn’t really find it a relief.

She would’ve even been willing to speak with any members of the council, if any of them wanted to be brave enough to come speak with her. Ais’lyn seemed to be trying to encourage some of them to try, oblivious to the blonde guard-dog she didn’t ask for standing in front of her. It was several more minutes of awkward at-ease standing, her eyes trying to look at nothing while also trying to keep tabs on anyone that might be wanting her attention, before Henry finally broke free enough to come toward her.

“Melanie.”

The extremely awkward woman hoped her relief at hearing him say that name wasn’t as obvious as it felt inside her. It was like someone breaking some kind of spell. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Captain.”

He managed to maintain a neutral expression at the title, which inspired her to keep her own. She hadn’t meant it as a barb, or to tease him-- that would come later, away from the high hats-- but it was still the proper way to address him.

“Wells and Chase are already heading to the ground, head with them to where your items are and help them move what needs to be moved inside one of the staging barns, it’s supposed to rain and--”

“You don’t have authority over that,” Captain Grant’s voice interrupted him sharply as Melanie was still nodding along respectfully, her eyebrows raising but every other part of her face remaining under control.

“Commander’s already cleared it, Captain,” Henry stressed without breaking eye contact with the giant woman, not bothering to even look toward the man, and then immediately jumped back into giving directions. “We could be seeing rain well before sunset, so we may be heading to the Grounds as swiftly as we can once that’s done to make sure none of your other items are at risk.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, watching Henry’s face flash with the awkwardness of hearing that directed to him before he nodded. “Anything else you’d like me to do?”

Grant shot her a look over Henry’s shoulder. Apparently even asking for more direction was too much talking out of the large woman for him. 

She was-- likely visibly-- growing impatient with the attitude.

“Nothing,” Henry said with a nearly silent sigh. “The tent is to remain pitched for now. Anything you need before I meet up with you and the platoon again?”

“I have the other hat,” she replied, bringing a hand forward and opening it to reveal the tricorner in her palm. “Would that be--?”

“No need,” he said abruptly. Not sharply, not irritably, but obviously the man was unwilling to talk at all about hats if it could be avoided. He softened, flashing her a reluctant smile. “Keep hold of it until I need to return this uniform.”

She nodded, slipping it back into her breast pocket and snapping into a salute that rattled some of the jumpier men along the wall. Henry followed suit after a very quick hesitation, unable to hide the discomfort this time at his new position, and this seemingly new dynamic. Without a word, she turned to look for Wells or Chase, instead finding a slightly winded Miller approaching her on the ground as she carefully stooped to chatter with him, her breathy chuckles reaching the top of the wall again.

Moving her items into the staging barn was easy enough, and while all of the high-hats were still on the wall she was able to do much of the work herself with little interruption or correction, which seemed to make at least Miller extremely happy. He had spent a good amount of the time directing her arm through the wide doors, utterly amused by the entire ordeal.

The process of doing so back at the Training Grounds when they had made their way back there was significantly less entertaining to all involved, likely due to the dramatic increase in instruction, correction, and loud debate between two Captains.

“She shouldn’t have brought it back here--”

“It’s going to rain and she can’t fit indoors, she’s permitted an umbrella for King’s sake and--”

“Anything that can be constituted as a weapon needs to be--”

“It’s not a weapon and I won’t be explaining it to you again! It’s--”

“You know that’s not the point, Lemuels,” Captain Grant spat loudly.

“That’s Captain to you,” Henry growled back, his face growing red under his hat from the frustration. 

Grant wasted no time jumping on it, his posture straightening as he raised his head enough to look down his nose at the sailor. “Oh, we’ve come around on that, have we?”

“Gentlemen,” Lionus tried calling again, exhausted, from the other side of Melanie’s grounded knees. She simply shot the Corporal a tired look from above and faintly shook her head. Her hands went back to picking up items and motioning to move them into her trunk for safe keeping during the rain, having already taken the initiative to drag several of the items back to her camp. 

“Not that,” both Henry and Grant called sharply as she picked up her large holstered knife, the woman dropping it back into the pile with a roll of her eyes and a haggard sigh that was the final straw for the two Captains equally, and added to the immense discomfort on the faces of Chase and Wells who had come at the behest of Grant specifically.

“Mind when you drop things,” Henry admonished her.

“You’ll show more respect to orders from here on out or--” Grant began harshly, which got Henry’s rage to focus back on him again as quickly as a snap.

“You’re one to talk!” he said, gesturing with his good arm at the man. “You’ve been correcting her for so much as breathing the last three days, and--”

“Now that is an exaggeration,” Grant wheeled on him. “As Captain of the whole Watch, I have a duty to--”

“Duty?! To what?” Henry said, shrugging both arms wide as much as he could with one in a sling, widening his stance in challenge. “Continue being an immeasurable prick for the sake of how I bruised your e--”

Captain Grant had taken a grand total of half a step toward Henry, hand raised in an accusatory point when the blue-clad Captain and his hot red cheeks disappeared for a flash before reappearing over waist-high wall of flesh that surprised the both of them, but not enough to fully cut the tension.

“Captains,” Lionus announced loudly, walking over on the Grant-side of Melanie’s hand. “The rain is starting, and I need to take Miss Melanie for an assessment and treatment.”

Grant’s mouth was opening and the Corporal was sure he could see sparks igniting in the dark space behind his teeth, but it died instantly as Lionus’ hand landed on the top of the giant’s beside him.

“You can either have Miss Melanie here help with what needs doing, or you can start directing the others back at the facility to do it in our absence, but the decision needs to be made and needs to be made in a way befitting your positions,” Lionus stated firmly but with a tone that seemed to lean too heavily toward his bedside manners, in Melanie’s personal and very tired opinion.

If the arguing men took any offense to the tone, it was unnoticeable beyond both of their sudden shock at realizing that it was in fact lightly raining on top of the tarp canopy above them, and that they were not alone given the vaguely uncomfortable expressions on Chase and Wells’ faces. It was enough to have both men roll their shoulders and adjust their coats respectively, immediately calming-- if only to replace rage with shame.

“We have outstanding orders to not have anyone off grounds beyond sunset,” Grant stated bluntly after clearing his throat. “It’s too late now for you to go on foot--”

“We’ll be back in time,” Melanie replied from above, drawing both men’s eyes up though her own were on the grey clouds and the brief patch of sky still visible over the roof of the facility at the other end of the grounds. “I’ll finish packing these, grab my things, and we’ll go. We’ll be back before--”

“Even with a horse you’ll be cutting it close,” Henry said, the fight out of him. For better or worse, it now rarely lingered once things started to relax after an argument. “Are you--”

“We won’t need a horse,” Lionus said, patting Melanie’s hand with a smile up to her as she turned to look at him in surprise, hesitating a moment to make sure before nodding.

“Ah,” Henry breathed, blinking his confusion before shaking his head. The pale look that had come over Captain Grant’s face was ignored by all parties. “I can show you how to utilize the straps as we go--”

“No need,” Melanie said, shaking her head and looking back to her pile of things to move instead of to Henry. “Just me and Lionus will go. It might be best for you to stay here and direct Chase and some of the men to move things into the buil--”

“The training facility isn’t for you to dictate--” Grant started and she simply kept talking over him as if he had barely buzzed in her ear annoyingly.

“--wherever they’re going to be moved, then,” she acknowledged the point in a deeply unsatisfying way to the Captain, pushing on. “You can come back here whenever it’s done and we’ll sort through anything else after I get back.”

Henry’s mouth hung open for a moment before he nodded, taking a deep breath and tearing his eyes away from the giant ones that wouldn’t move to him, even as her hand retracted. “Those are solid ideas,” he agreed, looking to nod at Chase who immediately saluted him and struck off across the grounds after a quick confirmation that he was going to get Miller and ‘the boys’.

“Be careful,” the blue-clad Captain added, looking back up to her and making actual eye-contact this time as she finally turned to him, nodding but not smiling. “I’ll meet you here by your fire when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. He flinched, though she hadn’t meant it as anything but respectable. It was just not what he had expected-- or necessarily wanted-- to hear from her.

The giant woman placed everything but the large knife into her trunk and closed it after pulling out two towels, then standing to move the bulky box back to the end of her small area. The small sailor watched her struggle slightly with the thing before turning to see Daniel had already been swept to the side by Wells and was heading out across the grounds after Chase.

He cleared his throat, turning to lock his turbulent, stormy-ocean eyes to the warm, steady hazel of Lionus’, and the two men nodded at each other; the Corporal’s smile unfailing in its ability to draw a smaller, fainter version of itself out of the new Captain. “Before you go,” the sailor started in a soft whisper, bridging the gap a little in a few steps over the impression her hand had left in the dirt, “any chance you might know where I could find a chessboard?”

He wasn’t sure if tonight would be a good night to play; not after everything that had happened to her. Part of him knew it would likely cheer her up, but it was hard for him to pretend that the last week and a half hadn’t put her in a place where she might not want to simply be ‘cheered up’. He wanted to try though; desperately so. He would even wear the hat during it if it might improve the day for her, regardless of his true feelings on the damnable thing. The feelings on the hat, honestly, weren’t the feelings he was having the greatest difficulty with anyway.

With or without his issues with Daniel…

He didn’t want to admit that he hated the idea of her leaving without him.

Chapter Text

“No, just turning around is fine, it’s only us,” Melanie said to Lionus as she spread out one of her two towels next to the pond.

“You really don’t need to be washing yourself again, Miss!” He called up to her with a light laugh before turning to face where the road came up to the pond, keeping watch. “I know Devon bullied you into one this morning.”

“I didn’t bring any soaps,” she said, stripping out of her clothes faster than she had in weeks, stomping her way out of the jeans with a sigh before pulling her socks off. “I just… need this, for a moment.”

“Probably a good idea to enjoy it while it’s still warm from the sun,” Lionus replied, nodding as he considered. The sounds of her massive form entering the water surprised him; she was moving much quicker than he expected. “I wanted to say, Miss,” he continued, turning around once he had given her time to get deeper in, “I’ve been very impressed with you.”

“Oh?” She asked while humming contentedly, the water warmer than the cooling, drizzly air still, even if only by a little.

The lead medic meandered his way over toward the edge of the water, letting himself investigate the comically large towel before pulling up a seat on it as he spoke, fingers running through the thick loops of fabric or thread or whatever it was made out of, like the plushest carpet. “You’ve handled a lot of what’s happened here in a stride I can’t say even myself would’ve been able to, given the change it must be.”

A puff of air left her nose as she stood on the limestone bottom of the pool. “Really?” She asked, incredulously but with a slanted smile tugging at her lips.

The small man kicked one of his legs out straight and looked at her, nodding. He seemed to linger-- hesitate, even-- on the question before answering. “If you aren’t at all used to military life, suddenly finding yourself among it is hard enough without some of the other problems you’re already carrying,” he called across the water to her as she took a few slow steps backward, toward the deeper area in the center. “You have real patience.”

A strange smile crossed her face as she observed him, her eyes narrowing as she replied. “Thank you for noticing,” her voice was so oddly clear over the water, and there was a timbre to it; some deep resonating sound accompanying it from under the surface. “It’s nice that someone is.”

“Oh,” he offered on a laugh, “it’s been noticed by a lot of hands around the barracks, at the very least. Not sure on everyone on the council, but gossip travels fast and the medics are desperate for it.”

Her eyes narrowed over that strange smile still as she made it up to her collarbone, asking another question. “Do you feel the patience is appreciated?”

“I-- well…” Lionus stammered with a confused chuckle, his head cocking to the side in thought. “Of course, Miss. It’s been a hard time on the Watch as a whole, and from all I know and think of the situation, it’s good to have someone in the thick of it keep a level head while going through something so wildly different to you.”

Melanie inclined her head, looking Lionus over a moment in a way that made the man intensely curious about her strange smiles and her odd questions. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, pleasantly despite her tiredness, before taking a deep breath and ducking herself fully under water.

The darkening, cloudy sky made the space under the extremely small waves a strange, dim grayscale. The gentle current from the mountain-side runoff to the exiting river drifted past her and moved her hair in front of her eyes. Her hands braced on her knees as she looked down at them in the clear water. Then, she screamed.

Lionus’ eyes hadn’t even started the motion of turning to watch the waves begin lapping higher up the shoreline with her disruption, before the surface of the water nearly exploded.

Massive bubbles crashed to the surface as a strange shaking vibration rattled under him, a muffled but still very audible high-pitched noise coming from under the water. He had already jumped to his feet when her head re-emerged, taking a very hefty set of breaths, wiping water from her nose. Their eyes met. There was a pause. 

Then, she did it again.

It was almost as if she had read his mind; had that really just happened? Was that what that was? As she disappeared under the pond’s choppy surface again, Lionus simply stared outwards as her scream made it seem like the water was at a rolling boil. When she resurfaced this time, he decided to be direct. “Good, Miss? Or do you need one more?”

“How loud was it?” She asked, lightly pinching at the sides of her nose as she blew it, turned back-on to him.

“Nothing I think anyone would hear from the road,” he replied, unable to hide some concern. She splashed water onto her face and shook her head aggressively, water drops sprinkling on the surface toward him with the light rain.

“That’s good,” she said, turning back to face him on the shore and kicking herself into a quick swim back to her things. “Sorry,” the giant woman added softly as he turned back around out of politeness and gave her some modicum of privacy as she dried herself with the second towel she brought.

“Feel like I should be the one saying sorry,” Lionus offered in a hollow laugh. “Probably would’ve been worth my time to ask how you were feelin’ before I jumped in the way I did.”

She slipped back into her underwear with a few tired grunts, quickly wrapping the towel around herself. She let out a hollow chuckle of her own as she sat down, stretching her legs out so he could look at her knee. “I feel like I needed to hear it from you, honestly,” she said as he approached alongside to look it over. “Just… someone acknowledging that I’m at least trying.”

“It’s been a rough few days,” Lionus admitted, barely needing to signal for her to bring her hand down for him again. He used her hand once he was sitting just above the healing gash to hold his pack, and started mixing up a new salve. “I’m sorry the tensions among everyone are adding to what you’re going through, miss. The high-hats are hard enough to deal with, even without the Captains being at each other’s throats.”

“I feel like the Commander knew they were going to be an issue tonight,” she replied with a sigh, her eyes on the forest as the world very slowly grew darker around them. “I just wish he’d stop insisting on being around me if he hates me that much.”

Lionus sighed, looking up at her from the other side of her knee with an exhausted expression on his face. “I understand the protocol of it; the busybodies would be offended if it weren’t the Commander himself leading their parade here tomorrow--”

A smirk crossed her lips as she looked back down to him. “No love for the high-hats, then.”

She blinked as the man visibly winced under her words, the smirk vanishing. “No, though-- that’s between yourself and I if I could make the request,” he said, hands getting to work spreading the medicine across; it was the same he used on the one on her head earlier in the day, if she were to guess. “Respect for duty and structure and so on, but… I’ve been happy where I am with the Watch, and everytime other branches come nosing around, I get a little defensive about what may happen to her, if you understand.”

“I do,” Melanie said quietly, holding her hand steady as he repacked his items.

“Appreciate it,” he said, flashing that charming smile up to her once he was ready to climb down again. 

She rolled onto her side on the towel, letting him look at the scratches and cuts on her back while the giant woman let her body simply sag into the ground. “...Does the Commander have issues with me like the Capta--”

“Not even remotely,” Lionus interrupted her on a laugh, which helped her release a tense breath. “Martellis is stressed for a lot of reasons right now, and hard as it may be to believe, you’re hardly the cause of any of them-- least not for anything you’re doing.”

A soft whine escaped her as she felt him picking at some of the scratches with prodding fingers, before the medicine started being slathered on. His soft voice was explaining that most of the scratches had actually healed to the point of no-remark, and there were only a few of the deeper ones that needed some help.

“The Captain-- Grant, that is-- has a specific way of handling things,” the small doctor chatted as he waited for the stinging ointment to set on her, wiping his bare hands on a small scrap of cloth. “I’d honestly tell you that he’s not as aggravated with you as he is with the folks nosing into Watch business using you as the excuse, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Well, if this is private,” she started irritably, Lionus giving her a soft confirmation that it was, “he could do with pointing his attitude toward them a bit more instead of taking it all out on me. Or Henry.”

“I agree,” Lionus said, patting her shoulder to signal her to rotate to the other side, walking around her as she adjusted. 

“Are there going to be more problems if the two of them keep butting heads?” She asked bluntly after another working pause. There was an uncharacteristic hesitation from the man behind her and she prompted him again. “Lionus?”

 “Well yes,” he admitted tiredly. “If’n I’m being honest, if I didn’t trust this platoon so much I’d be worried the whole situation would get dealt with officially tonight, but… truth of the matter is they’ll likely keep it quiet for the sake of both men, especially Captain Grant.”

“How do you mean?”

His hand slapped her twice again to signal he was finished and he stood back to admire his handiwork as the massive woman pushed herself to sit up and wrap the towel higher on herself. “Much as you and I have our differences and disagreements with the man, the Captain’s been here as long as I have, and he wasn’t exactly handed the job-- neither was the Comma--”

The towel he was standing on shifted as she tried to turn to face him, accidentally dragging the thing with her and he let out a small shout as he fell backwards onto it. Her hand was only a moment too late, sweeping in just in time to keep his back up and stop him from falling completely flat. “Sorry!” She breathed, worriedly, looking him over.

Once his heart left his throat he was free to laugh again, though he was still shaken by the fall and the rush of having something so large come flying at him. Even knowing it was to help, the visual was intense. “I’m fine, miss! No concerns here,” he laughed, quickly trying to push himself off the ground with the help of a finger only to be surprised again as the hand followed him up, gently resting against him in case he tripped again. The small man smiled, shaking his head faintly before patting vaguely at the hand and watching it glide effortlessly back to her massive self.

“As I was saying,” he continued, straightening his rain-dampened field uniform. “Grant and Commander Martellis both worked exceptionally hard for the positions they have. I’ll admit I’m of the opinion that they worked harder than anyone would’ve needed to to attain it; the Watch had been seeing members pulled to other branches in such large numbers for so long that there were concerns from outside that they may not even allow for new Command to be placed, but…the two of them worked hard enough that it kept a lot of us around and seemed to keep the threat of other branches out of our hair for a couple of years.”

“We’re still seeing almost more Officer Academy graduates than earnest privates and volunteers at the time being, and-- not meaning to upset you, miss, I honestly don’t fault you for it-- I’m just not sure how your arrival is going to affect anything of that nature, but it’s stronger with the two of them than it was for many years before.”

An accepting half-smile tried to tug at her lips half-heartedly as Melanie sighed. “It’s upsetting, but that’s unavoidable,” she said. Her hands reached for the rest of her clothes again as she noted the increasing darkness. “We should head back, but… thank you for talking to me about this. Honestly, just thank you for talking at all.”

A laugh accompanied a tilt of his head. “I thought Mist-- Captain Henry, was saying the ‘no-talking’ wasn’t applicable on Training Grounds time for you?”

She waited for him to step off of the towel fully before trying to move herself again, standing up and turning back on to the small man as she started to dress again. “Things are still more tense with Captain Grant there, and… maybe it’s me, maybe it’s them, but I don’t get this kind of conversation with the others. I can’t exactly call the Captain a bit of a prick with them, for one thing. Makes everyone uncomfortable, which I understand, but--”

“Henry I sincerely doubt would have an issue with that kind of talk, miss,” Lionus cut her off, laughing as he listened to the continued sounds of her moving and dressing in the light rain. A massive hand appeared beside him so quickly he jumped slightly, even as she breathily whispered a sorry from just slightly behind him, looming over him in a way that blocked at least some of the rain.

“Henry doesn’t know the Watch, he knows only slightly more about what we should be doing here or how we should be behaving than I do, which isn’t trying to say he knows nothing, but… he’s got strong opinions on the military structure of your country,” she explained as she helped him into her hand, one towel wrapped around her neck and the other draped over a shoulder. “That much I am extremely aware of.”

“Fair point, though I’m shocked that Ed, at the very least, hasn’t managed to pull you in for good conversation,” Lionus conceded, curiously examining the new position he was in with his back against her fingers and his legs dangling over her wrist. Her thumb slid across his front, over his arm, as she lifted him and then stood to her full height. 

The giant woman took a deep inhale as she took another look around the area, the sun definitely setting beyond the rainclouds that were surrounding her in a delicate mist. “Edmund is fun, I don’t want to bog him down with my whinings.”

Lionus’ arm swung quickly over her thumb and pulled it closer to himself as she turned toward the road and started to walk, her other hand pulling open the collar of her coat and moving to hold him inside it. For a moment he wasn’t able to contain his fear and concern that he was being put somewhere, dropped into a pocket or being shoved into some kind of crevice, and he tensed considerably. Her speed of travel didn’t make it less concerning, either.

“Are you alright?” She asked, coming to a smooth stop and turning her head to look at him.

“Just… wasn’t sure what was happening, miss,” he said through nervous chuckles as his breathing caught up to him. Her face immediately turned forward, and he could see the colour coming to her cheeks-- and feel the heat of it from her neck as she cleared her throat. It was a bizarre noise enough at this close range, and seeing the muscles work as she did was fascinating.

“Sorry,” she muttered, starting to walk again but a bit slower this time. “I honestly just… forgot this isn’t normal, for a moment. I figured you’d want to be out of the rain as we went. We can change--”

“Oh,” he replied, looking around the sheltered space, the little light from the overcast dusk still coming in from above and in front of him. “Was too dumbstruck to notice at all, miss! Don’t mind me. Continue on as you were, I feel foolish now.”

His laugh relaxed her so notably that he couldn’t help but smile more, patting at the back of her thumb with a hand as he relaxed a bit more as well. “You don’t need to feel foolish,” she mumbled, smiling vaguely above him as her eyes remained on the road and not him. “You just seem… wildly comfortable with it and I guess I’m just desperate to get to that point with damn near anybody aside from Henry at the moment.”

“I’ve had to see a lot of things in my time, miss. Takes more to shake me than just… being a bit taller than most.”

Melanie laughed brightly, the sound resonating through the hollow of her chest beside him as he was held somewhere near her collarbone. The two chattered the whole way back, underscored by the almost cavernous sounds of the giant’s breathing as she took fast, long strides back to the grounds as nighttime kept coming. Lionus was comfortable once that initial moment of adjustment and clarification had passed, and he enjoyed the conversation openly. She did as well, until they started to near the final few turns back to the exit to the grounds.

“When we’re back,” he called to her from the darkness of the dry space in her coat, her thumb rubbing vaguely at his chest in a way that seemed to acknowledge she could hear him, “drop me off at the balcony of the Commander’s office if the Captain is up there. I’ll keep him off of you and you can head straight back to Mis-- Cap’n Henry.”

Massive fingers and thumb pressed around him just slightly on all sides, as he saw her darkening shape nod. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

The lanterns were already lit, Harper and Penelope looking like they had just finished as they started the approach call up the trail. Lionus had already been removed from the coat, the trees doing a passable job on this patch of road of keeping the rain off of him.

“Captain Henry and a few of the men are back by your things, ma’am! Just waiting on you!” Harper called up with a wide grin.

“Thank you, Harper,” she called softly back as she kept on walking, beaming over her shoulder at him before the sound of the Commander’s balcony doors swinging open wiped the smile from her face and got her to turn back around.

“You’re just barely back in time--” the Captain was starting to say when her hand raised enough to get Lionus up level with the balcony, the shock of the sight nearly knocking the wind completely out of Grant. 

“Captain, I wanted to go over some things for tomorrow morning before light’s out!” The Corporal said cheerfully, sliding and climbing his way off of the giant hand and turning to pat it amicably. The giant and the medic smiled at each other and she turned and smoothly strode her way out of Grant’s range of criticism in just a manner of a couple of steps, not that he was in much position to critique her as he suppressed his shudders.

Lionus placed a hand on his shoulder briefly and turned him back inside, out of the rain, and the doors closed behind them shortly afterwards.

Chapter Text

The hat was in Henry’s hand as she approached, the small man standing and waiting for the giant woman with a worried expression that took what little wind had been in her sails instantly away. The echoes of the argument and discussion from before they left for her swim-and-scream therapy came back to her, and she suddenly realised she hadn’t been the kindest in her exit.

Chase and Cassandra were setting up a few extra rocks they had rolled up from the woods together near the fire with Miller, Francine and Wells rooting around in the brush for their own seats evidently. They all gave Melanie friendly waves, which she returned with a genuinely friendly smile before kneeling down to meet with Henry, who was already realizing he was in the wrong place.

“No-- ignore me, go hang your towels,” Henry stammered out, waving her up along the tarp-tent she called a room. “Was it raining that much?”

“I took a dip,” she explained, the man shooting her a nearly distraught look as she rolled her eyes. “The water was warm!”

He started to walk toward her trunk as she stood back up, frowning and fidgeting and otherwise looking conflicted. “It’s raining and the temperature’s already dropped-- you don’t have a lot of options to get you dry, here.”

“The tarp is big enough,” she mumbled. She didn’t want to be having a fight with him this quickly; she didn’t want to be arguing with him at all. He had a point, she knew that, but it still bothered her to come back and get lectured. “I’ll be fine,” she added, trying to soften her tone a bit as she ducked underneath the sloping plastic roof and plopped herself down at the end of her bedroll, next to the trunk.

Henry bit his tongue as he slowed his approach behind her, watching her drape the towels over it. He didn’t want to put any more unpleasantness on her than he already had. Flicking the hat back and forth in his hand as she got herself ready to settle back in for the evening, he turned and made eye contact with Miller who seemed to be eagerly waiting back at the other end by the fire.

Wells looked up, noticing the two men looking at each other and gestured wordlessly to Miller, the cheerful man heading immediately up toward them across the strange bedroll.

“Sir!” He called, getting Melanie’s attention as well as she turned to glance over her shoulder, setting her damp coat aside. “Is now a good time to give my debrief on the storage operations?”

The sailor stammered, nodding eagerly. “Ah, yes Miller-- please, if you could.”

“Yes, Cap’n!” the man replied proudly, puffing out his chest as the giant woman turned around and sat on the bedroll with a gentle but notable thud. “Anything metallic-- for the sake of avoiding rust-- we dragged into the mess hall if it was too wide to fit in the stables. That’s where your knife is, Miss. Me n’ Jones strapped it to a horse and dragged it back, but we’re sorry if it’s damaged at all.”

“I told them it would be fine,” Henry quickly interjected, still looking worried and awkward. She shrugged, a hand coming to rest on the ground by him. It put him a bit more at ease, until her finger swung in to gently tap the hat dangling from his closed fist.

“It is fine,” the giant woman assured them both with a nod toward Miller, smirking as Henry begrudgingly fitted the hat back on his head. “It looks fancy, but really I just bought it to be a diving knife. She can take a lot of punishment.”

Edmund beamed wider, inclining his head even further to her to the point she was worried he might tip backwards and fall. “Well, she’s in with the horses for the night now, along with a few things that Cap’n Henry told us should be moved. It’ll all be brought out tomorrow morning for the council.”

Henry nodded to Miller. “Thank you, Edmund, much appreciated.”

“Did you want me to set up that chessboard now, sir?”

He was too stunned to flinch, his mouth hanging open as he looked at the man. “Uhm,” he said, his voice cracking as he took a quick second to glance up at Melanie’s face overhead and saw that she was smirking amusedly at him. He cleared his throat quickly and turned back. “Yes-- please, Ed. If you would.”

“Right away, sir!”

A gentle sigh left her as she quickly ran her brush through her hair. Henry’s eyes narrowed-- he couldn’t remember her bringing it back. She caught the look and the smirk vanished, the woman shrinking into herself a ways.

“...Slipped it into a pocket when we were moving things into the barn,” she muttered, setting it back alongside her trunk. “Sor--”

“Good,” he cut her off, having to hold the hat onto the top of his head to look up at her, trying to smile enough to put her at ease. “I know not having one on hand drives you a little crazy.”

A hollow chuckle left the giant woman as her hand came back to rest around him, a finger brushing against his broken arm tenderly. It relaxed him immensely as his unbroken arm moved to run a hand over her thumb. “And you’re hoping to be the only thing driving me crazy until the game is over?” She asked teasingly. 

The reluctant Captain shoved her hand away, just encouraging more giggles as he turned and struck off toward the fire and the ring of stone seats that had been arranged around it. “Three,” he called over his shoulder as he went, holding the same number of fingers up with his good hand.

“You’re lucky to be getting one tonight, the way you keep taking that hat off,” she quipped.

She waited for him to get farther down the bedroll before letting herself lie down on her stomach, scooting forward to come up near the three rocks where Miller was arranging the pieces with Penelope’s help. Over the top of the fire she spied Jones and Fuller wandering up the field with hooded lanterns and extra rain slickers in their arms, Kendrick scampering behind them after having dropped at least one. 

“I forgot you probably weren’t going to need a chair, ma’am!” Miller said after standing back to admire his handiwork. Melanie just laughed quietly.

“That’s fine, Ed, my concern is how I’m going to move these pieces,” she said, folding her arms under her chin after a quick, awkward wave to the newcomers.

Henry was quick to offer, and just as quick to be interrupted. “I could move the--”

“You’re a filthy cheater, no,” she said, frowning at the tiny board. “I’ll need a proxy.”

Miller looked ready to burst. “Oh! I know a good bit about chess ma’am!”

She smiled at him with a pitying shake of her head. “Hmmm… maybe, but let me ask around. Jones?”

The lanky man looked up from taking off his raincoat, shaking it off. “Yes ma’am?”

“Do you know chess?”

“I’m a solid player,” he said with a shrug. She shook her head again, everyone but Henry becoming more and more confused. Henry was, as he usually was before the start of the game, growing more and more impatient with what appeared to be stalling.

“Wells?”

“I know the knights move queer,” the man replied as he took a pair of hard-tack biscuits from Fuller, who had brought a sack of them. “That’s it.”

“Perfect, want to move pieces for me?”

The giant woman continued to ignore the impatient man setting himself at one end of the board as Wells gave her a skeptical look and everyone else chuckled through any confusion or amusement or both they were experiencing. “Had no interest,” the first lieutenant replied, “until right now. You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she said, adjusting herself to make sure she had a good view of the board still once he sat down. “You won’t try to stop me from making the moves I want to make.”

“This is also good because I was hoping to talk lift-drills with you both,” Henry said, barely able to hide how eager he was to get into the game. 

“Oh,” the intrigued squeak of Kendrick piped in, the boy going as red as his hair as all eyes turned to him. “Sorry,” he squeaked again, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’ve been interested in them, is all.”

“You should join,” Melanie blurted out, surprised that someone other than the folks who had already been wrangled into it by Miller wanted to volunteer. The more people she could get doing them, the more used to this she could get, and with Kendrick being a medic he was going to need to be close to her anyway, so--

Henry’s voice was delicate and placating, like someone gently correcting a child. “He’s under the Corporal’s jurisdiction as a medic,” he said, gesturing for Wells to move a pawn out to try and get this game rolling. “Lionus would need to give him clearance.”

Melanie and Kendrick spread nearly identical guilty grimaces, her eyes moving to the board and his skirting around trying to avoid the sympathetic faces of Penelope and Chase. “Well, you can at least listen and ask questions,” the giant woman added with a bit of finality before quietly giving Wells the go-ahead to scoot one of her pawns toward the middle of the board. Kendrick perked immediately back up and grabbed the closest rock he could to the group and sat himself down.

“As Captain,” Henry stressed, setting out his pawn to meet hers, “I’ll allow that, for now.”

“Oh come on,” she whined tiredly, telling Wells how to move her knight to threaten the black pawn. “You could’ve just let him have it without having to be ‘official’ about it.”

“If I have to wear the fucking thing,” he replied irritably, adjusting the beaked hat on his head before snapping another move easily. “I’ll be reminding people what it’s for. That said, you’re all free to remove your hats, I’m only wearing mine due to my own hubris and her insistence.”

Chase was laughing heartily through a mouth of hardtack, shoving a few of the wetter pieces of log closer to the fire to dry them more, his hat coming off and landing near one of the rock seats. Everyone else followed suit. “She could’ve at least waited until you got the matching uniform for it, sir,” the lieutenant said after a draught of water from his canteen.

“I’m an impatient woman when it comes to collecting on my bets,” her voice drawled in a tone of faux-sophistication, smirking as she stalled on her turn, Henry’s foot tapping as he waited. She finally gave Wells another direction, her eyes intensely focused on the board.

“Yes and I’d prefer this be done as fast as possible,” the sailor sniped. He made a quick move of a knight, and she directed Wells to move her bishop out of its way. “Something I’d like to take more time on, however, is finding balance.”

“How so?” She asked, frowning at the board as Henry snapped out another move like it required no thinking at all.

He gestured across the board to Wells, who was enjoying himself quite a lot as he moved pieces, Jones coming to crouch beside him and watch the moves at play. “I think we’re getting through the lifts too quickly from ground to platform and vice-versa, I think the team needs more time just being lifted to get a feel for the balance.”

The giant’s silence spoke volumes. “Safety is a concern,” she breathed eventually, before getting Wells to move another piece.

“Safety is always a concern,” Henry agreed almost meaninglessly, adding to her frustration before he chased another piece of hers back. “I feel like it’s not nearly as big a concern as you keep making it out to be.”

Melanie’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the board and the entire conversation as a whole. She knew why this was happening with a chessboard between them; he was hoping it would take her mind off of the fact that the conversation wasn’t happening privately. She knew it likely wasn’t going to happen privately when he had mentioned it to her earlier, but having this large of an audience was enough to make her want to dig a hole and bury herself in it.

“I want to hear how the team feels,” she deflected, dictating her next move.

“I feel like you shouldn’t have sent that piece out,” Jones quipped before anyone else could respond. A giant finger came over to nudge him lightly on the arm, her eyes still on the board and not seeing the effect such a quick move had on the others under the tarp. 

She brought her hand to rest just barely against Wells protectively. “This is why Wells is playing, he knows better than to question me.”

“Wells is playing specifically because he doesn’t know better,” Henry reminded her over chuckles from the small crowd, unable to hide a smile that she was getting more comfortable with the men, and that Jones and Wells were comfortable enough with her to not be upset. At least, not visibly so far as he could tell. He quickly snapped out another move. “But yes, Wells, how do you feel about focusing a bit more on balance?”

He took a moment to think deeply, and as he did so leaned a bit more heavily against the giant fingers around him, fidgeting comfortably after a slight hesitation. “Definitely needed. Safety concerns still a factor-- I don’t want anyone falling any more than either of you do. Could find some ideas for that, all said.”

“I’m all ears,” Henry replied, noting how stiff Melanie had gotten after the Lieutenant had adjusted himself, colour in her cheeks. It didn’t take him long to figure out why, as soon Jones was sidling closer to press a side of him against the outside of her hand. He knew quite well how warm her hands could be, and the chill of the night was certainly on them now as the rain was increasing beyond their shelter.

“Doing it close to the ground to reduce fall distance,” Wells started listing around his next instructions for chess moves. “Makes a bit of a problem for positioning for you, miss, but could still be worth a shot. Netting of some kind-- I know Dawson has some for doing suspension-type construction. There’s a positioning issue there, possibly, but…”

The giant woman only let out an uncomfortable, faint groan that rumbled through her throat.

“Oh, over water?” Miller piped up, coming back from rooting through Fuller’s bag for more biscuits, giving Jones a confused stare. “Could do it at that pond y’keep going to, ma’am! Doing it over water could make it easier.”

“Not a terrible option,” she conceded, though the thought wasn’t the most comforting all the same.

Miller was wandering over to inspect whatever the hell Jones might be doing as Francine jumped in, heading toward Henry’s side of the board to watch. “Sounds like a nice way to get paid for a day of swimming, Lieutenant.”

Jones shoved Miller away as he watched the chess game continuing, Fuller laughing as he approached Francine. “You’ll get used to that, Lieutenant,” he said as Miller finally clued in to why Jones was so insistent on leaning against the massive hand. “If there’s a way Ed can find to make a workday ‘fun’, he’ll do it.”

“It’s an incredible and valuable skill,” Henry said, inclining his head with another large smile as Edmund wandered over to take a seat right at the bend of Melanie’s elbow. Her eyes were focused so intensely on the small chessboard in front of her, her brow furrowed so much Henry felt he could lose something in the deep wrinkles she was forming there, that she didn’t even seem to notice Ed making himself comfy and sharing silently-mouthed words with Jones.

“Move your knight, ma’am--” Cassandra tried to suggest and looked taken aback as the large woman just made a strange, halting noise, her eyes never leaving the board. 

“Ahn,” she grunted. “Don’t. I can figure this out, I promise. Just… ok, where would I move it?”

Cassandra and Francine laughed, the nightwatch woman approaching her on the opposite side from Jones and Miller to take a better look at the board.

“If you accept help from anyone here, I consider the bet forfeit and I get to take the hat off,” Henry warned.

That was enough to get her eyes up again. “You wanted to have the game with an audience, Captain,” she said in a low tone back. “But if you’re going to insist on it, fine. No one help me. If anything, try to distract Henry more with conversation.”

“Have you only just practiced lifting from the ground to the top of the scaffolding so far, yet?” Kendrick asked eagerly, so far onto the edge of his stone seat he was practically hovering.

“So far, yes,” Henry replied with a hum as Wells completed another ridiculous move in his role as avatar. She had moved the knight, but not to the spot that Cassandra had likely meant; the dark-haired woman’s face certainly said as much. “Miller’s had the most experience from what I understand out of the crew here, but other than that the only other person outside of myself who’s had any experience with different lifting would be…”

“Lionus,” Melanie said, starting to swell a bit with pride as Henry seemed to take the extra few seconds to plan his next move. “Commander and Captain Grant have had… some experience, but those were different circumstances.”

The sailor finished moving just in time for the words to hit him, and he turned an offended, almost angry look at her. “Daniel?” He spat incredulously.

Her head shook in surprise, stretching back to look down at the man as poor Edmund almost lost his balance. “He had to watch me unpack my trunk.”

“No one told me,” Henry said.

“He hated every second of it,” she muttered, her eyes moving back to the board as she leaned forward, Edmund adjusting with the position and leaning more against her upper arm. “I doubt he’ll ever volunteer, and if anyone were to suggest it he’d probably shoot them. Or me.”

“It probably just wasn’t cold enough that day for him to appreciate it, ma’am!” Edmund said consolingly from his seat, looking up at the side of her face. 

Colour flashed into her cheeks again as she took a quick glance out of the corner of her eye to acknowledge him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips a bit awkwardly. “Miller, you’re too sweet,” she mumbled quietly, her eyes moving back to the board and trying to take in the positions of everything again. “I’m glad it’s cold enough out here to at least let me feel useful.”

“Is that what’s happening over there?” Chase asked in surprise as he finished prodding at the logs on the fire. “I’ve been trying to-- oh forget it.”

Abandoning the fire, the man stormed over and moved toward her other arm with such a pointed, direct gait that she adjusted her position almost out of fear. As soon as it was free, Francine, Fuller and Cassandra all made moves for the arm as well, just causing her to go even more red in the face.

“Myself and poor Kendrick are being left out to freeze, then,” Henry said after another volley of moves, increasing his collection of her pieces as her King started for its usual meandering traipse around the board.

A playfully agitated sigh left her. “I’m not an octopus,” she retorted, carefully moving her hand and trying not to tip or bump the four newcomers out of their seats as she beckoned Kendrick with a finger. “Kendrick can come, but you’re not invited unless you leave my damn Queen alone.”

“This is the longest you’ve ever kept her,” Henry argued as Kendrick seemed to hesitate before shyly standing up and scampering over, finding a seat on the back of her arm between Miller and Wells, “she’s well past her time to go, and your pawn is never going to make it to become another one.”

“You don’t know that,” she snapped back, but any irritation that would be there was obviously in conflict with all of her other feelings at the moment. On her left side, she had Wells leaning against her palm, Jones against her fingers, Kendrick on her forearm, and Edmund at an elbow. On the other side, Francine and Fuller were both seated on the ground, Francine on the inside of her arm with her legs pointed toward Miller, and Fuller on the outside leaned back almost against Chase’s legs as he took up the crook. Cassandra was perched near the wrist where she could see the game easily enough. 

“Would being an octopus make the lift drills easier or harder?” Fuller asked amusedly over a yawn.

“It’d certainly make them stranger,” Chase said.

Wells caught Fuller’s yawn, playing a move even he knew was a bad idea. “If the Captain agrees, we’ll start on balance drills of some kind tomorrow, once the council is gone,” he said, looking up to nod at Henry.

“I don’t know if Daniel will allow it during the usual--”

“You, sir. You’re the Captain of this outfit,” Wells corrected him.

The blue-clad man blinked his surprise and took a second. “...Right you are, Wells, apologies. That sounds like a good plan.”

“Brigade,” Miller corrected Wells, Jones turning to tell the other man to stop it. “It’s our official brand!”

“We don’t have an official brand,” Jones scolded.

“I like it,” Kendrick jumped in to Miller’s defense. “Brigade sounds powerful.”

Melanie chuckled in spite of her frustration at the chessboard, directing Wells to wander her King back and forth essentially as Henry needed at least three more moves to fully pin her down. “You don’t know the full name,” she said, turning to glance at Kendrick. “It’s the Idiot Brigade, specifically.”

“I did not agree to be enlisted in anythin’ called ‘the Idiot Brigade’,” Fuller said as Kendrick went bright red and started to laugh.

“That’s unfortunate,” Miller shot back, “we were making you our mascot.”

“Ed I’ll smack the mouth off o’ ya if y’keep that up,” Fuller threatened between his own laughs, pushing himself off the ground enough to lean over Melanie’s arm toward the other lieutenant. 

Excited babble broke out between the crowd gathered across giant arms, everyone laughing in turn save for Melanie, Henry and Wells, who were still focused on the end of this game.

“Sir, I need you to take her out before I fall asleep here,” Wells said as he executed an order to uselessly capture one of Henry’s rooks. The giant woman gasped quietly in shock.

“I am betrayed,” she said dramatically, frowning as Henry finally moved a piece into a full checkmate. 

“Ma’am, are you sure you know how to play?” Jones asked her bluntly, Cassandra standing and nodding at the man in agreement. Henry was laughing proudly in his seat as he and Wells started to put the board away.

“I was distracted,” she whined. “I can play just fine.”

The sailor gave her the mercy of not commenting. “Alright, lights-out should be soon enough. Pack up whatever you need and make your way back to the bunks,” he instructed, awkwardly trying not to sound too official but still feeling the weight of the hat in more ways than one. “Thank you all for your help today. I’ll meet you back in the room shortly.”

“You’re not in the bunkroom anymore, sir,” Chase said, not seeing the puzzled look on Henry’s face. “You’ll have an Officer’s room on the top floor now.”

“Oh god,” Henry groaned. “Am I taking Daniel’s room?”

“No sir,” he replied with a shake of his head. “There’s four total, and the Commander’s office.”

“We put you down the hall from Captain Grant, sir,” Wells said, moving to tuck the chess set aside with other items for the night watch members. “Where this is usually only a temporary grounds, the rooms are typically left as they are for whatever branch or platoons may be using it, but the officers tend to stick to a single room from what I’ve known.”

“That makes sense, most people are creatures of habit like that,” Melanie added as she waited for the men and women to finish helping themselves up and away from her. Without the distraction of the game and conversation now, she was feeling awkward; a strange mix of being overwhelmed and also… happy. She couldn’t lie that the idea of anyone being that comfortable with her already was making her happy. It was just… a lot at once.

It had been so long with Henry that she had gotten used to it all; the feeling of how muscles moved and shifted against her, how he had to fully shift his own position with the slightest adjustment of her own. She could always tell when he was feeling tense, scared, relaxed, drunk, tired… It was a subtle but comforting way for her to know what was happening with him at any time without having to try and piece together what she might be able to see of his expression from whatever distance she may be at, or from his tone. 

He didn’t have to yell at her here like he had to back at her home. It wasn’t as loud, perpetually, in every environment. Here, she could pick up more on his tone, and the tones of everyone else-- to the point where she sometimes wished she couldn’t. Melanie, honestly, had begun to regret accommodating everyone as readily as she had when it came to making sure she was able to hear them, wishing she could go back and pretend that people still needed to shout a bit to speak to her directly. It removed a lot of the… subtler inflections that had been making her self-conscious.

Henry and the rest of the brigade members who were at her little campsite continued to chat and prepare themselves for the rainy walk back to the facility, its lights glimmering still through the haze of the dreary weather. As more and more of the members got up and left, she felt significantly less worried; more relaxed. Soon it was just Miller and Chase both sitting back against her upper arms, and that was dramatically less overwhelming than trying to keep track of how a half-dozen other people were trying to maintain balance. 

“C’mon Miller,” Jones called as he tossed a rainslicker at the man. “You’ll get set to mucking out stalls with the privates if you’re back past lights-out and I’m not waiting up for you.”

“Mucking stalls is good, honest work I’ll have you know,” Ed shot back at him, still not getting up from her arm as he tried to find what end of the slicker was ‘up’.

“It’s shit work that you won’t get the stink off of yourself for a week,” Fuller taunted. “You’ve got a reputation.”

“No I don’t,” he replied, offended, leaning up but still with no intent to move. 

Chase, much to the giant woman’s mix of amusement and slight discomfort, also seemed very intent to stay where he was, crossing his ankles as he laughed. “You’ll wait days after mucking stalls to get a wash, Ed. Everyone knows it.”

“I change my uniform!” the man argued, growing distraught.

“I think you smell fine, Lieutenant,” Francine called across the crowd, standing near the precipice of the tarp canopy and lingering near the warmth of the fire as she waited for everyone else to get a move-on.

Miller froze, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life; surprised that she was here. He seemed completely unable to respond to her, so instead he just turned to face Chase again, jabbing his thumb toward Francine with a cocky grin. “Hah! Hear that? Argue with a Noble guard, Rupe.”

“Rupe?” Melanie couldn’t help but to blurt out, tensing uncomfortably. “What does that mean?” she asked as her eyes dashed to Henry in concern, only to see him shaking his head and raising his good hand to try and placate her before Chase could answer.

“Rupert, he means,” the man practically spat. “And if he’s going to use it, he’ll use all of it, thank you.”

“...Your name is Rupert?” the giant woman asked in confusion, suddenly realizing that Miller probably wasn’t the only member of the brigade with both a first and a last name and feeling rather stupid for it.

“Since birth,” he replied, crossing his arms and leaning more forcefully back against her arm. She adjusted slightly to give him a bit more space to recline, the man notably tense as he stared daggers at Miller. “You still could bother with some soap after they slap you on the shit-shovelling duties tomorrow.”

“I ain’t late yet.” Pointing at Chase with a wink, Miller finally moved to slide himself off of her arm, groaning quietly about it the whole time. “No chance for a ride back to the facility, ma’am?”

A large number of grumpy protests erupted from the rest of the waiting party to head back over the grounds, Cassandra laughing as she tossed two more logs into their small fire pit. Wells and Fuller both shook their heads, chatting with each other quietly as they waved up to the giant woman and saluted Henry, whose whole body seemed to stutter before saluting in return, the two men turning and striking out into the pattering rainfall.

“I’d run the risk if the Commander was here,” Melanie admitted softly, ducking her head to try and be a bit closer to his eye level. “Don’t want to know how much shit Captain Grant would make me shovel if he thought I was pissing around after lights-out.”

Miller took a moment to consider this as he finished putting on the rain slicker, everyone else slowly filing out of the other end of the tent as they waved and saluted in kind. “That’s a good point, ma’am. I don’t want you getting into trouble with me this early into your service. Give it another week, then we’ll see about what we can get away with.”

“Ed,” Jones snapped, still lingering behind everyone else despite the threat to not wait for him. “Leave her alone, she wants nothing to do with your nonsense.”

“I wish,” Henry muttered loud enough that at least the woman in question and Chase heard, a massive grin flashing its way toward the reluctant Captain. “Have a good night, boys.”

“We’re waiting for you, sir,” Edmund replied, snapping to a sharp salute. “Captain’s escorts don’t get punished for tardiness.”

“For King’s sake,” Jones breathed out exhaustedly, finally laughing. Ed stood up so straight and puffed his chest out so much beneath his glaringly huge grin that Melanie was worried he’d overtake her for ‘biggest thing this side of the grounds’ in a matter of seconds. Jones shoved him. “You’ve got rat-holes in every rule here, don’t you?”

“You’re a genius, Miller,” Melanie gushed. “No wonder you’re in charge.”

Miller bowed deeply, reaching to grab up her finger and plant a showy kiss on a knuckle, both of them breaking into loud laughs as she went glowing-hot red in the face one more time and stared at the bold man. He simply turned to Jones again before gesturing at her with the whole of his arm and open palm. “That’s why she’s second in command of my Brigade.”

“...Decorum.” 

It was a bit weak, awkward. It was said through nearly gritted-teeth as he tried to contain his own laughs and shock and everything else. But Henry did say it.

The boys took no offense, both snapping to salutes with their ‘yes, sir’s and leaving him to say goodnight as they moved to wait just beyond the end of the tarp, yammering at each other and arguing playfully in hushed tones in the rain. Chase finally helped himself up from her arm, giving her thanks for the seat which started a rolling, broken chorus of shouts of thanks from everyone else who had enjoyed it as well along the line of scattered men and Francine across the wet dirt. 

“Sleep well,” Henry told her as he walked over toward her hand, the woman lifting it to meet him automatically as she rested it around his damaged side, the pad of her thumb resting delicately against his cast.

It felt so right to touch him.

“You too,” she whispered back. “Drink water before sleep, maybe a snack if you--”

“I won’t fight with him, I promise,” the sailor replied on a long, tired and conceding sigh. “Best behaviour from now on.”

Dark brown hair swayed, still damp, on the side the long section fell over, the woman tilting her head as she looked at him with a faint and gentle smile. “...Drink the water anyway,” she said after a pause. “For me.”

He laughed, nodding. “Alright. Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early,” she said.

“Bright and early,” he said.

Moving to a sitting position, stretching her back out and reaching to start unzipping her sleeping bag, she watched as he put his rainslicker on and swore under his breath as Chase and Penelope tried to help him get the hood up over his hat while they fastened it closed over his broken arm. All of them saluted each other, Henry’s cheeks visibly rosy even from her height and distance.

Her Captain walked back toward the facility in the rain, chatting with Miller and Jones the whole way.

Maybe, just maybe things were starting to really fall into place.

Chapter Text

“I’m fine, I swear,” she begged, whining, outside of the mess hall. “You can eat indoors! It’s not even raining!”

Miller and his tag-along, Harper-- who had obviously heard something about last night-- were unperturbed in their near-marching walks toward Melanie despite her continued protests as they brought their plates of breakfast out into the still-chilly morning air, making a straight shot for her ankles where her legs were crossed underneath her. “It’s not even raining!” Miller mimicked back, flashing that beaming smile up to her before turning to plant himself where he could enjoy a bit of back support from her other leg. “Why would we eat indoors when it’s fine out here?”

The giant woman let out a soft, vaguely uncomfortable whine as Harper took a second to find a good spot and fixing himself there, muttering something that sounded like approval almost under her hearing range before starting to shovel eggs into his mouth. She picked up her barrel of coffee and leaned to where drinking it couldn’t possibly make an overly-embarrassing mess before taking a long, bitter draught.

“Still no improvement, ma’am?” Fuller’s voice asked from the small window, the man looking genuinely curious instead of being simply amused at the face she made.

“I’ll come around on it,” she offered placatingly, trying to flash him a reassuring smile that neither of them believed. “The eggs were fabulous though, Fuller, thank you.”

He flashed a grinning wink up at her as Miller and Harper both grumbled their own thanks through full mouths, practically in her lap. “Just worry you’re not getting enough, ma’am,” he said. “Everytime I think I’ve made enough, you down it in a bite and--”

“That’s impolite,” Miller snapped defensively, surprising the two having the conversation to begin with. “She’s a lady.”

“Lady with a giant mouth, Ed,” Melanie corrected with an awkward chuckle, and hand moving to reflexively cover her mouth before flexing her calf just enough to jostle him, which seemed to amuse him. Harper was a bit more surprised by the motion, but didn’t seem overly put-off. 

“You’re one to talk about being impolite, Miller,” Jones said as he walked out through the doors. “Did you ask?” The question flew out of him alongside a wide point of his open hand.

“It’s fine!” Miller whined back with half-chewed toast still in his mouth. “Right ma’am?”

“It’s fine,” she replied, flashing an awkward smile at Jones. “Thank you, Jones, though. I appreciate you wanting to make sure.”

“I was following Miller,” Harper said once he had swallowed down whatever he was chewing. “I figured it was alright.”

“Don’t follow Miller when it pertains to someone else, or he’ll use you as a scapegoat,” Jones said to the man before looking back up at Melanie and cocking his head with a point to her knee. She shrugged, there was no harm in it if they were willingly wanting to come out, as much as she still felt a bit awkward about the entire ordeal. Her hand placed the coffee back down and moved to give Jones a quick boost up.

“How come you get the better spot?” Miller demanded as he watched it happen around him, turning to frown at the man.

“Because I asked,” Jones replied.
“Because he asked,” Melanie replied, their voices practically in harmony.

Fuller was laughing in the window, a distant call of Grant’s ‘decorum’ easily ignorable among the noise. “Point still stands,” the cook stressed. “If you aren’t gettin’ enough food ma’am, let me know. I don’t mind making Ed do extra kitchen hours.”

“Happy to,” the man agreed from her leg before eating half a porkchop in one bite.

“I feel like I’m getting enough, at least for what I’ve been doing,” she replied, picking up a bucket of her greased-potatoes and tipping a few back into her mouth while they were still warm. “If they start making me run laps or something, might need to pick it up, but for now the important thing is that my pants still fit.”

“You’re gonna get a new uniform made!” Harper called up almost excitedly, tipping back so far to try and look up that he almost slipped off of her. A hand went automatically to catch him with a finger, feeling him jump and tense at the motion and going stiff herself until he leaned almost heavily into it to push himself back up.

“Yeah ma’am,” Miller added with a laugh, having helped catch Harper’s arm that was holding his plate so he didn’t spill his breakfast. “Just get the bigwigs to account for Fuller’s cooking. Get a belt.”

“They aren’t actually going to make me a full uniform, are they?”

The uncomfortable tone of her voice immediately sent a quiet around the small group of them, and she carefully moved her hand from Harper to grab her coffee again in an attempt to distract herself from the thought.

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” Jones offered plainly after a second of consideration, his weight shifting on her knee as she adjusted. “You’re part of the Watch.”

She was so lost in the worries that she didn’t even think about how bitter the coffee was. “...It just seems like a hassle for them, that’s all.”

“It was the Brund and the Monitor’s idea.”

A quiet but cheerful round of ‘Morning Captain’ went around the small group in her lap as Henry’s loud voice drew her attention to the door frame. He was leaning on his bad arm with a gentle look in his eyes, staring at her as he swung a coffee cup up to his lips. Melanie flashed a guilty smile to the small man, still in the open Navy coat but with the vest back on as if to now impress rank on the high-hats whenever they arrived. 

The hat was, to her delight, firmly on his head, causing his hair to puff out strangely. Evidently he hadn’t been asking for help to tie it back, and doing so one-handed wasn’t the neatest. She wondered if it would be too much to bring up this early in the morning with their not-so-eagerly-awaited-guests on the way. “Morning, Captain.”

He grimaced at the title like he found the coffee as bitter as she did, straightening himself and walking out. “Morning, everyone,” he said as amicably as he could through his still vague discomfort. He inclined his head up toward Jones before turning his attention to the giant woman again. “You gave away my spot?”

“I have two legs,” she retorted, “I didn’t realise you had a favourite.”

“I don’t mind moving, sir,” Jones said, though he wasn’t exactly jumping up to leave his perch. That may have been a matter of safety and balance, though, the man was doing a lot of little shifts to make up for her own miniature movements; he didn’t have a lot of trust yet in how this entire thing worked.

“No, it’s fine,” Henry chuckled, walking and pointing toward the other knee with his mug, Melanie carefully-- if awkwardly-- managing a quick lift maneuver for him without causing too much disruption to the rest of the gathered crowd. “...You’re doing rather well with this,” he said quietly, once he was settled and comfortable, tipping more coffee into himself.

A finger brushed his shoulder as her hand moved back to get her own barrel of coffee, blinking at the thought that he said anything in front of others. She was trying to find a way to either reply, or to suggest this wait until they were alone, when another figure stepped through the doorframe and came to an almost jarring halt at the sight of her.

“Morning, Captain,” the chorus rang out, sharper and more professional-sounding than when it had bubbled out for Henry. Melanie saluted and muttered her own good morning while her coffee was still halfway to her lips, and immediately she realised why Henry didn’t seem to have any intention to wait to speak to her until they were alone.

Odds were, they wouldn’t be.

“If you can’t salute with the correct hand, don’t bother,” Grant’s voice cracked through the air as he locked frigid eyes with her over betrayingly flushed cheeks, his brow knit under the beak of his hat. 

“Sorry, sir,” she replied quietly, going so tense in her discomfort that everyone but Henry seemed to need to adjust in surprise. Henry had leaned forward as if he was going to speak before she had rushed to cut it off. She didn’t need defending right now, something had the Captain already upset enough without another fight starting over breakfast.

The line of those cold eyes dropped away from hers as soon as she had said it, the man adjusting his coat with a quick tug as if he had been physically tussled by something. “There are plenty of empty seats indoors, men,” he said with a flat, heavy tone. “And construction materials besides.”

Giant eyes watched the small mouth open like it meant to continue before snapping closed again as he took stock of the full situation. Jones and Harper hesitated, as if waiting for a follow-up. Ed, bless him right to his cotton socks, had no issues with answering the unasked question.

“Like to eat my breakfast out in the air, Cap’n,” he said cheerfully, as if oblivious to any tension, “‘n the construction piles are wet.”

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the expression on the blonde man change again, his hat coming off only long enough to run a hand over his hair. He was… notably uncomfortable, and hesitant to speak. “I don’t recall the piles being wet creating a problem before,” he said, his jaw tense.

“Never had this option before, sir,” Miller continued the banter, patting at the leg he was on and grinning before shoving another mouthful of pork into himself.

Henry was liable to drown himself in his coffee in his attempt to pretend not to care about what was happening below him, and Melanie wasn’t sure if it was because he was upset or delighted by Grant’s blatant unease. 

“Well,” he said, lacking in the authoritative sharpness he was typically spitting out, “stand properly or move to proper seating when the arrival calls start. I don’t want to have to hear complaints from the council.”

“Anywhere in particular I need to be when they arrive, sir?”

Grant shot a surprised and sharp look up to her, eyes narrowed and cold as he seemed to scan the entirety of her face twice before realizing she was being genuine, Henry wiping his sleeve across his mouth after finally prying the cup away from his lips. The green-clad Captain gave an uncharacteristically long pause yet again before inclining his head quickly. “Stand and salute them when they arrive,” he said simply, the giant woman relaxing with a quick nod before he added. “With the correct hand.”

“For star’s--” Henry started to swear under his breath before a finger brushed against him from around her barrel of coffee, the cask landing on the ground carefully.

“Yes sir,” she replied after quickly clearing her throat, trying to keep things as civil as anyone could hope to manage here. Her now-empty hand came to rest behind her blue-clad Captain, fingers curling gently.

That was all Grant could seemingly stomach, nodding sharply and dropping his eyes to the other men. “As you were,” he said sharply, quickly, turning and marching back through the doors and starting to call the clean-up orders for those on kitchen duties.

“...Sorry.”

The quiet voice from her knee was made slightly louder as Henry brought the mug back to his lips one more time, draining the last of his coffee with a mix of guilt and impatience. Her thumb rubbed at his broken arm delicately in acknowledgement. “Save your energy,” she replied quietly. “You’ve got a full day of this yet.”

He kicked at her lightly with the back of a heel; a decent replacement for patting with the hand that was unfortunately still in a cast and sling. He seemed about to reply, when the distant call of trumpets came drifting through the trees in a strange wave.

A chorus of groans erupted from all of them, a sharp and more familiar ‘decorum!’ coming from inside the hall that she found almost endearing in the moment. One by one, they all stood or were helped to the ground before Melanie pushed herself up to stand, chewing on her lip as she waited for whatever unpleasantness was due to her today.

She didn’t have to wait long.

As the Commander arranged himself along with the council at the top of the scaffolding beside the facility, she was doing her best to keep a neutral expression and a mid-distance stare. For all of her love for General Ais’lyn, the… unnecessary pomp of the Duke and Dutchess’ desires for presentation were uncomfortable to the nth degree. 

Duke William stepped forward and naturally found the perfect angle to regard the entirety of the council, the presenting Noble Guards, and the giant woman as he struck what-- in Melanie’s mind-- must be a specifically non-military royal stance, everyone saluting or bowing at the same time. She had been expecting it, and performed one of the practiced bows that Ais’lyn had taught her several days ago instead of a full salute, which seemed to surprise Henry and aggravate Grant.

Ais’lyn looked delighted by it, however, so she took that as a win.

“Under these unique circumstances,” Duke William began in his royal accent and loud, clean voice, “this council must meet at a non-typical location in order to perform duties. Hereby, as to the laws of the land…”

‘Oh,’ she thought, her eyes on him but not really seeing him as she let the increasingly confusing, legalese-ish speech wash over her. ‘They need to re-establish rules here.’ It was an interesting thought, and her eyes flickered a moment to the incredibly large, feathered hat of the Duchess among the row of men in uniforms and fancy attire, wondering if it had been something she had felt necessary or if the Duke was just that big of a stickler for protocol.

As he specifically laid out in a notably sterner tone some rules as to the permissions of council members' ‘attending personnel’, she felt her brow furrow. It was pointed. Had something happened? Was this the kind of thing she should know about? Was it something she’d want to know about, whether or not she should?

“The Giant, Melanie,” the Duke said clearly, not turning any attention directly to her as he looked down the line of the council and she looked back to him, “will gather her items for inspection and bring them here, to the--”

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” the Lackney piped up, everyone looking shocked at the interruption outside of the Duke and the General-- though that might simply be more practice in handling such interruptions than an actual marker of whether what just happened was rude. “If she were to bring her items here, would that over-complicate the process? We’re required to see her sleeping and housing arrangements at current to finalize a full decision on the construction of new shelter for her.”

There was an unsubtle amount of muttering, Lackney Molligue working hard not to react to it or to the giant staring at him as his words finished making their impact. 

“I believe,” General Ais’lyn’s voice broke through, “that we can find a compromise. To my understanding, a number of her items are already stored on this end of the grounds, the others are among her personal effects at the back. Is this correct, Captain?”

“Yes, General,” Henry replied smoothly from directly beside the woman, not even hesitating. Melanie was nearly impressed until she saw Ais’lyn’s boot retreating from the man’s toes. “I would recommend going over the items here at this location first, and then perhaps she could bring her other items for examination to the staging area at the centre of the grounds. Once everything has been seen-to, then it would be rather simple to travel the rest of the way to the--”

“Why has scaffolding been constructed at the centre of the grounds?”

Lt. Commander Hodge in his cerulean-blue Naval uniform had a face sour enough to curdle milk as he frowned outwards at the scaffolding, beyond the giant standing directly in front of him.

“These grounds,” he continued irritably, “are a shared training space for multiple branches of His Majesty’s forces, and construction of--”

“Those rules are pertaining to permanent fixtures, Lieutenant Commander,” Staff Sergeant Thorne chimed in with an abundance of politeness that at least several members of the council visibly seemed to believe Hodge didn’t deserve. “As is the case with this Naval-constructed scaffolding we’re standing on currently, temporary structures such as that created with the use of scaffolding and easily removable materials don’t require collaborative approval to be--”

“Right,” Hodge snapped, red in the face suddenly as he rolled his shoulders and pointedly looked anywhere but at Thorne. “My mistake. As you were, then, Captain.”

Melanie made a mental note to ‘accidentally’ call the Navy councilman ‘Lieutenant’ later just to help Henry get some minor amount of satisfaction. It was becoming more and more clear to her how hellish this entire situation must be for him. Henry, however, seemed unruffled. “As Lt. Commander Hodge seems interested in them, as I was saying: Examine the first set of items here, the second at the scaffolding in the middle of the field, and then completing by examining the area at the end of the grounds.”

Before the muttering and grumbling could escalate to anything worth acknowledging, Duke William inclined his head and cleared his throat. “That will be our progression. We’ll dismiss so those who have yet to eat can attend the dining hall. The council shall reconvene in twenty minutes.”

As the dismissed councilmembers all started to wander in a mess toward the ground again, the giant woman couldn’t help but let the relief affect her. Her shoulders slumped slightly, a deep breath whistled into her nose, and jaw instantly relaxed. In the corner of her vision, which she had turned up toward the clouds to see if there might be a sunny break on the way over the tops of the trees, she saw Grant go rigid beside the Commander. Even that was too much of some kind of failure for him? Just letting her shoulders down? She was tempted to close her eyes and count to ten but that would probably be grounds for some kind of punish--

“Good morning.”

The deep voice called so loudly she couldn’t possibly have mistaken it as having addressed her, and she was right; the man in the red-coated uniform was standing in the dead center of the scaffolding staring up at her with hard eyes. A neutral expression beneath them seemed almost an attempt at being friendly in comparison to every other bit of his body language.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied with a polite nod that would hopefully cover for her confusion.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced,” he said flatly, and then let the words hang in the air as if implying blame. Captain Grant standing behind him certainly straightened up like there was blame of some kind being implied, anyway.

“Very few members of the council have thought to do so,” she said, taking a half step to turn herself away from most of the staring eyes. The man in front of her shot his eyebrows up at the response, the corners of his mouth twitching downward in a quick but unmistakable frown. “Melanie Barnes, of the Eastern Coastal Watch. Pleased to meet you.”

A giant hand raised and jutted forward in a smooth motion, coming to hover what she eyeballed as one of his arms length away, held as though she was hoping for real, giant-sized handshake from the man.

“Melanie,” the Commander’s voice started, but just suddenly stopped from somewhere in her unfocused periphery.

“...Captain Cleary, of the Inland Watch,” he said after a hesitation that practically seemed to swallow his tongue. He stepped forward, eyes on the hand instead of her as he briskly grabbed-- or at least slapped his hand against-- the tip of her middle finger and made as if to brush his hand up and down it instead of shaking it. She inclined her head as she went through a vague, shake-like motion that didn’t line up with his own.

“Ah, we spoke the other day,” she said, watching him swing both hands behind his back and clasp them there, wishing she could see if his fingers were flexing and writhing after having to touch her. Her hand stayed where it was, relaxing and curling her own fingers in a bit as she watched his posture and body tighten. “It’s nice to meet you, officially.”

“Clear the gangway,” Henry called quickly, and her eyes moved to see him mostly engaged in a conversation with the Commander and Grant, though Grant's eyes were pointedly on Cleary.

“Yes, sir,” she responded with a quick nod before moving to an at ease stance.

The man in red relaxed just a touch under her gaze as her hand vanished. “The pleasure is mine,” he replied in a tone that sounded a bit too much like he was correcting her grammar. “Were the rains troublesome for you last night?”

“As troublesome as the weather tends to be when you’re sleeping outdoors,” she said, casually. “Are you finding the travel difficult?”

“Decorum,” Grant’s voice called, prompting her to incline her head and acknowledge him without tearing her eyes away from Cleary, adding a quiet ‘sir’ to the question.

The Inland-Watch Captain shifted on his feet as he seemed to ponder his answer, both of them doing their best to ignore the quiet chattering of the trio behind him. “It isn’t much of a bother to me,” he said, his eyes finally dropping and glancing around the training grounds. “The Inland Watch’s base of operations for this province is only about six hours of travel from the barracks, and we have a smaller outpost nearer by.”

She nodded along, wondering if he was planning to get to the point of why he was speaking with her, or if there was some other purpose here. “I’m glad to hear it’s no strain, sir.”

He gestured with an open hand to her in a show of politeness. “How has the travelling been treating you?”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she regarded Cleary, and Henry stepped instantly up beside the man as if to warn her off of doing something upsetting. “It’s been treating me very well, sir, thank you for asking,” she said with a quick nod before turning to Henry and fixing her posture.

“Apologies for interrupting,” he said curtly with a nod toward Clearly, his eyes possibly never actually landing on the man before sweeping back to her. “Lieutenants Jones and Miller, and Private Moores are waiting to help you arrange your things.”

She snapped to a salute with a quick ‘yes, sir’, before nodding back to Captain Cleary again. “Thank you for the conversation, sir,” she said, snapping another salute and waiting for him to return it before moving to leave the area of the scaffolds.

Instantly, in her wake, there was a faint babbling of murmurs and chatter from the people still outside who had witnessed even part of the exchange. She was sure this wasn’t the last time she’d be speaking to Captain Cleary, but she couldn’t help but feel like it may have made it less likely she’d ever speak to anyone else on the council she hadn’t already met.

Henry flicked and fidgeted the fingers on his unbroken arm as it rested along his side.

It wasn’t nerves. At least, he was fairly certain it wasn’t nerves, per se.

The man just hated not being able to take notes when something like this was occurring. He had, in his own opinion, a fantastic mind for remembering things, but there were… a lot of things to be remembering right now. There were a lot of things to be paying attention to, all at once! And all of it, for reasons ranging from reasonable to unbelievably frustrating, was very important and worth the attention.

He wasn’t alone in this. Peter was, despite looking either decently rested or very caffeinated, trying to moderate all discussions and commentary as they went through Melanie’s second set of items with the patience of someone who hadn’t so much as blinked his eyes in a week. The Commander was, to use a phrase he had heard a lot over the last two years, ‘All Business’ right now.

Daniel, on the other hand, had been given a point-position by Peter that Henry had nearly been unable to stop himself from shouting in argument about. Daniel, while the council was busy discussing and Henry was on tap to answer questions and bring Melanie into the discussion as needed, was in charge of keeping ‘The Giant, Melanie’ and her attending members under strict decorum.

And it was certainly strict.

“Why does she need so much soap?” Lt. Commander Hodge asked incredulously to no one in particular, a persistent problem that had dogged them all throughout the morning. Henry had barely had enough time to take in a breath to answer before the massive shape of the giant woman reared up over the other side of the presented items again and shot a very tired, unamused look at the collective. 

“Is that question being directed to me, specifically?” She asked with a dull, flat politeness, Daniel’s snap of ‘decorum’ almost disappearing beneath it. She barely waited before repeating the statement in full with his order in mind. “Is the Lieutenant’s question being directed to me at this time, sirs?”

Daniel’s strictness didn’t seem to be focused on correcting her use of rank.

“Lieutenant Commander,” the man said, his face flushing blotchily as he was forced to speak to her. “And I suppose if you have an answer--”

“I’m very large,” she said, Henry too tense to find it amusing as she added ‘sir’ on a slight delay before Daniel could correct her again.

“Hygiene is significant to her people’s culture,” Henry jumped in informatively. “The varieties have a specific purpose as it pertains to the ritual of cleaning.”

Hodge seemed ready to make some kind of snippy remark to him when Cleary interrupted with his deep bass tones. “Have these circumstances, as such, gotten in the way of those rituals?”

Over the tops of the items being presented in front of them, Melanie’s giant form went back to unpacking things from her trunk that she had wheeled to the middle of the grounds for this, her eyes briefly on one of the men nearer to her that couldn’t be seen by the council.

“Of course,” Henry said, shrugging. “We lack the facilities, but she’s been making due as best possible.”

“Is it a religious ritual?” Lackney Molligue asked with genuine interest, turning his head between the Giant and her liaison. He was one of the few who seemed to be willing to at least accept an answer from her whenever a question was asked.

Henry legitimately hesitated, his brow furrowing for a flash as he turned to regard the Lackney. “Not… in a sense too alike to our own religious traditions and rituals, I don’t believe. It’s not in specific… tribute, as such, to any certain deity or concept.”

“Then what is the purpose of the ritual?” Monitor Jacobson asked. It wasn’t asked in the incredulous tone they had come to expect from members like Hodge, but it was blunt enough to raise some hackles. 

“Is this relevant, gentlemen?” Captain Hunt asked from near the back of the gathered crowd, standing alongside Ais’lyn who raised her eyebrows over an intrigued smirk.

“I certainly believe it is,” she said, the Noble Guard Captain glancing her over in faint surprise, muttering an apology. “Melanie,” she called, getting the Giant’s attention almost eagerly. “Is there a purpose-- other than cleaning yourself, of course-- that the cleaning rituals serve?”

“It can be…” the large woman drawled, kicking a leg out and draping an arm tiredly across the top of her knee, her eyes jumping up to the clouds while she thought, using her hands animatedly to try and communicate her point a bit better, her motions small for her size but still exaggerated. “Meditative? I’m unsure of the wording, my apologies. It can be extremely relaxing to… focus on yourself, lose yourself in your own thoughts and… process things that you haven’t otherwise had the time to think deeply enough on. Does that phrasing make sense?”

“More or less,” Henry replied with a smile that wasn’t meant to disguise his pride. “Introspective is a good word in summation.”

“Introspective…” she drawled not-quite-under her breath, as though she was learning the word for the first time before she nodded with a quick smile. “Thank you, sir,” she said before turning back to the faint grumbles of an unseen Grant, sighing as her leg and arm went back to their previous positions and motions. 

The mutterings and mumblings of impressed councilmembers washed over him better than either he or Melanie could likely have ever planned. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel what would have been aggravation just two years ago, as the Brund made a rather direct comment:

“You’re extremely articulate, Captain,” Brund Franklin said with genuine surprise and even some admiration. “I would not have expected such from a Navy man.”

Hodge replied with a remark that was clearly meant to be snappy, before noticing all too late it had the reverse effect of what he had likely intended. “He’s not a Navy-man,” the Lt. Commander stressed, “he left the service.”

“If it isn’t below my station to say so,” the Duke said from his position alongside Commander Martellis, “it most certainly seems rare that any man of the Navy’s ranks fits as well as Captain Lemuels did amongst the function of Nobility I had first encountered him at several years ago.”

Hodge’s jaw clamped shut so tightly Henry thought he could hear the squeak of the man’s teeth rubbing together as he gave a short and polite bow to the Duke before turning back to the task at hand.

They had gone over and through a lot of her belongings. Several of the councilmembers voiced comments that Melanie had evidently already heard before from members of the Watch, what remained of the colourful label that was once on her vitamin mix catching a good bit of attention.

It had taken a lot of finagling to remove the wording from it; a precaution she and Henry had insisted on before embarking on the journey. Well, mostly he had been insistent on it. No one, in his opinion, should have to face the questions he had to when he was initially faced with the bizarre combined reality of their two worlds in full.

At least, no one should have to face them this soon. Even he couldn't pretend some of the things he worked to prevent were fully unavoidable.

His fingers went back to twitching as he wished he could’ve been taking notes again. Knowing who was more interested in what, and the general attitudes everyone was showing would be crucial for any future maneuvering.

There had been more than enough of the usual bureaucratic nonsense already over anything she owned that could be considered a ‘weapon’, such as everything from her diving knife-- which Daniel seemed unwilling to let anyone else approach-- to her flashlight, matches, flint-and-steel sparker (a fire starting tool, as he explained at length, though he, Peter and Daniel were on the same page of not letting her demonstrate) and her sewing needles.

To Henry’s delight, nobody believed the umbrella was a weapon.

…Until she had used it, but by then it was too late.

He had felt a little bad that the members of the Watch had only been given a verbal warning of what it would be like, and that neither he nor Melanie had been able to get permission when they were outside of the view of the council to demonstrate it to them early. If he was being honest, however, he only felt bad about it because it would’ve given them the excuse to open it closer to the crowd and ideally make Cleary and Hodge look like cowards. As it was, she had intentionally walked several of her long strides away to open it while pointing the complex thing toward the back of the grounds, causing some jumping but not the dramatic splash Henry had fantasized about it creating when it shot forward and expanded in two neat stages.

He closed his eyes for a quick 3-count, taking in a deep breath as babbling continued.

He could wait until the weekend to see if his growing vitriol might be worth acting on. Just one more day with this ridiculous council, and then he’d have a break.

As Captain Hunt took over, dismissing some of the less asinine questions from the others out-of-hand, the blue-clad Captain took a moment to look up and lock eyes with the giant woman on the other side of the slowly spreading pile of items. As her arms moved in their gargantuan grace he had become so accustomed to, laying out everything but her clothes, those massive hazel eyes found his blue-green stare and she gave what from anyone else would’ve been a subtle nod. Her expression was tired, her body was shifting all over in minute-but-gigantic ways to show how cramped and aching it was feeling, but her eyes were determined in spite of it all.

He nodded back.

Just one more day, and then they’d at least have something new to tackle.

Together.

Chapter Text

“You won’t be travelling back with us, Commander?”

Peter Martellis shook his head with as little movement as the motion would require to still be seen and understood, wasting not even a moment of time to try and discern whether the question had been asked in any kind of tone that would betray some unasked question, some… deeper meaning. He was so exhausted of those games that, for the last two hours since the end of the lunch call, he had taken to only intaking the exact, literal meaning of anything anyone said to him and responding to it plainly.

“No, sire,” he replied to the Brund as he stood at his straightest and most commanding posture outside of the gate to the stables, his eyes observing Melanie and Dawson conversing amidst the construction team at the centre of the grounds. “The Staff Sergeant will be happy to see yourselves and your attendants to wherever you may all split paths on the way back to our barracks, should you wish to ride with himself and the Watch, but myself and Captain Grant have much to discuss regarding the operations here and I don’t wish to complicate the matter any further now that the council’s day has been officially concluded.”

“Are we not all riding back together?” The Brund replied. If there was confusion, concern, or any other contrived emotion in his tone, it once again went unnoticed and unacknowledged.

“I don’t believe so, but it may be something worth speaking about with the other councilmen,” Peter responded neutrally. “Captain Hunt seems to be needing to speak with Lieutenant General Ais’lyn, from all I have gathered. I’m unsure aside from Sergeant Thorne who else is planning to leave sooner.”

There was a pause that was, to Peter’s increasing exhaustion, unignorable before the Brund’s voice said once again from behind him. “Right you are, Commander.”

That was the end of that. 

He turned to give the customary salute and polite bow to the Brund, and then left the stables to begin a brisk march through the scattered clusters of councilmembers and their attendants, and any off-task members of the Watch, to try and converge with Captain Grant-- wherever the man may be. 

The Commander was fine-- content, even-- to continue on ignoring any babbling or chatter that wasn’t being directed to him. He had had far too much inane blathering enter his ears over the last four days. 

But one voice, one gravelly voice, was never going to be something he could just tune out. Like some kind of rumble of distant thunder, Peter’s body tensed even before he could discern what the man was talking about, the words travelling like a sniper’s shot directly to his ear over all of the other sound and clatter and hubbub.

“--certainly puts it on display, doesn’t it?”

The responding voice, one of his attendants if Peter’s initial glance had been remotely trustworthy, didn’t have the same effect as Captain Cleary’s. He could barely make out any words over the din, and was trying to continue on his path to get out of earshot when Cleary spoke again.

“It doesn’t matter which other branch,” those deep bass tones clipped through to him again as he kept walking. “It’s extremely obvious she doesn’t fit here, however.”

He was sure he staggered. He was sure that his marching must’ve stuttered or stumbled even the faintest bit, because Peter Martellis-- for one flash of a brilliant moment-- went literally blind with shock.

It was only a moment. It was only one, bright, painful flash, and when his vision blinked back that quarter-step later he felt as if his entire body had jumped a dozen or more degrees in temperature. As exhausted as he was, as completely and utterly done with this all as he absolutely was, he wasn’t so tired as to even pretend he didn’t know what Tanner was talking about.

He turned his eyes across the grounds, looking at the obvious subject of the conversation, and…

Instantly, his rage vanished.

His ears stayed warm as his blood ran cold.

…He couldn’t make an argument.

It was obvious. It was plain. It was right there, on display, in front of everyone.

It was a sign fifty-feet tall.

She didn’t fit.

Melanie didn’t fit.

She was almost on her hands and knees trying to help with something under Dawson’s direction, looking almost child-like in her position. Men and women were walking around her, she was trying to reach over and around things happening… It was the awkward ballet of everyone trying to work around an obstacle.

Peter’s exhaustion washed over him again and his feet continued forward, his eyes moving back to the path ahead, though he wasn’t able to keep it in focus. Was he wrong about this entire thing? Was this ever going to work? Was this some fool’s errand? Had he finally found the thing that would expose him as the hack-fraud he always felt he was; some child play-acting in an older man’s uniform?

“You’re not allowed to run into the woods without me,” the terse voice from next to him broke through over light panting, and Peter turned to see Daniel making stride next to him as they nearly came to the head of the exit road of the grounds. He had no idea where his Captain had come from, but the man had obviously pushed himself to catch up.

“My apologies,” the Commander said in reflex, that overly polite-and-professional tone he’d been wearing as a mask slipping out of him and making Daniel grimace faintly. He was sure the man meant to flinch, but they had been marching rather hard. His feet finally came to a slow and steady halt, his oldest friend matching step like they had choreographed it and practiced it a thousand times. 

Honestly, for all the time they had known each other, that number might be a bit of a low-ball guess.

“The General and Captain Hunt seem intent on staying until at least the start of the dinner-call,” Captain Grant said informatively, moving to stand at ease and subtly get his cardio back down, his eyes scanning down the road to the guard post and then back up along the brush across the way from them, as if he were genuinely disappointed the plan hadn’t been to vanish into the woods. “They had no interest in involving me in whatever discussions they were having, I imagine that was council matters, so frankly I left them to it.”

It was Peter’s turn to grimace, the last thing he wanted was for something to make Daniel even more uncomfortable than he was already, and the council certainly seemed to be grating on his friend even more than Peter would’ve assumed, especially considering he had managed to keep Daniel out of the thing. “Is Melanie--”

“Dawson’s got her attention,” the Captain cut him off, his face flat and unamused as he took a quick glance to the middle of the grounds just to confirm she hadn’t somehow snuck away. “They seem to be conversational enough with each other that he can give her orders easily, so I dismissed her to him until Lemuels doesn’t have any further claws in him for the day.”

The Commander’s head inclined politely as he ran his tongue between his teeth, his lips pursed in thought as he stewed on the question that had been injected in him so fiercely by that rolling deep voice. He hated it. He hated that he felt the need to ask; that he was suddenly so unsure of himself. 

If he wanted a reassuring answer, he’d ask Henry. Hell, he’d ask Miller, or even Wells. They would soothe his worries, they’d tell him this would work because that was now their job: to make this work. They’d make promises, they’d tell him plans they had to make this work.

But he wasn’t sure if he could actually stomach a reassuring answer right now. Not about this. Not knowing what kinds of eyes were on the situation from people like Tanner Cleary and members of the Inland Watch. Up until now, he had always trusted Daniel to be completely honest with him, and as far as Peter Martellis had ever known: Daniel always had been. 

This situation, however, had already shaken so much of the foundations around him; had already changed so much. It had caused so much stress on the Watch, and he knew it had caused an extreme amount of stress on Daniel. Perhaps, when-- not if-- he voiced the question, Daniel would be the opposite extreme of Henry. Optimism flipped to pessimism. It would be just as unhelpful, just as painful for him right now, but still:

He had to ask.

“Do you feel she belongs in the Watch?”

It probably wasn’t the best way to word it, but he was a tired man. A tired, burdened man. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to him when nothing but silence greeted him in return and Grant’s head turned slowly to stare at him with that flat expression and piercing gaze. The words hung as Peter’s eyes almost shyly glanced around to keep the Captain only in his periphery. He didn’t want to try and acknowledge what was most certainly a look of ‘Really?’ from the man beside him. He didn’t want this to feel like a joke, or like a stupid question. He didn’t want to acknowledge a look as an answer. 

It took a painfully long series of seconds before Daniel turned slightly more to look over their shoulders, marking the progress of the council members as they continued their preparations for leaving and ensuring the two of them were still being given a respectfully solitary berth for their discussion. To avoid raising any suspicions, he kept his hat on as he turned back to watch the side of the Commander’s face. “How do you mean that question, precisely?” the man asked with all the gentleness Peter had ever come to expect from him: just a softer tone and no biting clip at the end.

“Does she belong among our ranks,” the Commander repeated after taking a second to rattle his tongue behind the teeth of his clenched, tense jaw. “Do you feel she… fits in, here.”

The Captain’s posture straightened faintly as he moved to look back at the brush across the road from them, air whistling into his nostrils like he was a horse ready to make a bolt once he saw his chance. But then he held his breath a moment, evidently thinking deeply, before letting it out slowly. 

Peter’s eyes closed for an incredibly long blink as he waited for the blow, trying to ignore the bustling and chatter all around them. Trying to ignore the drifting sound of a giant woman’s attempt at quiet banter. 

Then, the voice from beside him spoke again, and he opened his eyes to look at the speaker in full.

“Her basic behaviours and decorum are… improving,” Captain Grant began, still looking almost casually among the leaves and branches of the foliage just a road’s width away as he spoke like he was giving a routine report. “She has a bad habit of trying to commit to saluting even when she’s unable to do it properly, but it’s being corrected. Obviously it’s too much to ask her to stand to full attention when she does it-- it’d be a farce, frankly, and I’ll be honest with you I wouldn’t stomach it if suddenly any of these dolts tried to request it of her.”

Commander Martellis was too shocked by what he was hearing to correct the Captain on his own decorum, regardless of if they were having a private conversation with implied hats-off.

The Captain seemed to give the faintest shrug and then continued. “The only thing Lemuels has done correctly since he became a Captain yesterday is defer to Wells for damn near everything, which is the smartest thing the man has probably done in decades, but that’s my personal opinion and I’ll hold my tongue on that for now.” As if to keep his word, he seemed to chew his tongue a moment on a thought before tipping his head almost in some internal concession, and then turning to look at Peter directly, speaking almost hesitantly. “She needs work, but she’s adjusted to the routine as well as I suppose anyone who spent their time around Lemuels likely could. I… can’t say I like it or approve at all, but the men have gotten comfortable enough to treat her almost as… furniture.”

If there was a thought to follow that, it was cut off by a disgusted-looking grimace that flashed for just a moment on his face before turning those cold blue eyes away once more, a faint shudder running through his body. Peter stared, nearly baffled by what he had just heard. A hand reached out to touch Daniel’s arm and get the attention of his friend back on him as he tried to confirm it all. “You feel this could work?” 

It was all the words he could manage to string together.

Daniel’s face finally broke from its attempt at stoicism and fell into an animation of frustrated defeat. “She needs work, she’s nowhere near where she should be even if she had been accepted as a Private at this point,” the man babbled quietly, his brow furrowed over a frown. “She doesn’t know military expectations even to a basic level but I can’t deny she’s putting at least some effort in. I don’t even mind so much that you’ve got her doing… that.”

He nodded his head toward the center of the grounds and Peter turned to look, seeing her holding scaffolding in place as Dawson instructed the crew through extending one of the top platforms into a supported stage of sorts. Peter wheeled back around as Daniel continued.

“But,” he said, halting as if the words caught in his teeth before they could come out. He stammered, his eyes still on Melanie as she worked. Finally the words came out in breathy, almost hushed exasperation, and a faint hint of pleading. “I mean-- Peter. She’s fifty feet tall, for King’s sake. ‘Fit’ is a… hard goal to meet.”

Peter hadn’t known his confidence had been building, or that fires of excitement and determination were being relit in him, until it all came crashing down with what Daniel said. All of that reassurance, all of those things that made this seem not like an impossible dream… only said to soften the blow of how Daniel really felt.

‘I must look like utter shit for him to sugarcoat it for me,’ the Commander thought as his heart sank back down. He must’ve visibly deflated, because the Captain-- his Captain-- gave him another of those long, wordless stares that asked a question he understood in plain language. But again, he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t want to answer it, not without Daniel saying it out loud.

It took the blonde-haired man a moment longer than usual to finally speak it. “What makes you ask?”

He looked over his shoulder just long enough to mark the progress of the leaving members of the Watch and the council, ensuring they were still out of earshot of anyone who might cause a problem. He didn’t want people to hear him telling Daniel that he had eavesdropped on Cleary, and he didn’t want anyone to hear Daniel’s reaction to what Cleary had said. 

But as he turned back around to look pointedly not-at-Daniel again, the only thing that really settled on Peter Martellis was that he was a bone-tired and exhausted man.

He could tell Daniel what Cleary had said, but what would that say about the answer he was just given? If Daniel suddenly reacted out of spite toward Cleary, or worse-- if he had agreed with the man that had still, for some reason or another, shown concerning amounts of interest in Daniel specifically… would that be just another problem?

There were a thousand things he should take the proper time to assess, prioritize and strategize against. These were the kinds of things he and Daniel should take the time to talk about, together, over a desk and sheets of paper that would burn in the fire-pit once they were done with them.

But the Commander simply didn’t have the energy to fight that hard against a simple, pin-point sized light of truth at the bottom of this all:

He was worried he was making a mistake.

A fifty-foot mistake.

“Just wanted to hear it from someone else,” he said, fixing his posture and reaching up to adjust his hat firmly. He cleared his throat, still not looking at Daniel, and directed all of the energy still in his exhausted form to returning to being The Commander of the King’s Eastern Coastal Watch. “We’ll see off our guests, and then I’ll check on Melanie and Henry while you settle the remaining members not on Henry’s team to tasks for the evening.” 

“Yes, Commander,” Captain Daniel Grant replied quickly and professionally, so easily sliding back into the protocol and role he had been assigned. “Once Dawson is free I’ll request some construction team members and himself to consider making actual seating around the firepit.”

Peter blinked, curious as to why Daniel-- of all people-- was suddenly concerned with comfort around an off-duty activity. His mind was still set firmly on being The Commander, though, so the statement that actually tried to leave him was: “Permanent structures are--”

“Won’t be permanent,” Grant replied factually, straightening his own posture with a deep inhale through his nose. “Benches and seats will need to be movable to handle the fact that someone expected to join in is fifty-feet tall.”

A tired smile spread across Peter’s face as Daniel added with no prompting, “there’s no reason I can think of not to make sure she fits.”

Whether he actually meant it or not, the idea that his friend and Captain would care enough to make him feel better about it all… there was comfort in that.

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the initiative.”

“For the Watch, Commander.”

“For the Watch.”

“You’re lowering them too fast,” Henry’s voice came, impatiently, from the platform near her head. “You need to--”

“How long do they need?” Melanie asked in similar impatience after Bartlett had finally stepped to the ground, turning to shoot a sharp look at her Captain with his legs dangling and his coat fully discarded. “They’re--”

“You’re too stiff,” he said firmly, raising a hand in a vague attempt to placate her. The hat, as per the wager, was still on his head and likely adding to his impatience. “I’m just trying to get it to a point where you’ll relax at least enough to breathe while they’re up there and then we can determine if they’ve got it down.”

The giant woman’s ears had gone red and she looked ready to argue when Wells piped in from his spot standing just behind Henry, his arms crossed. “You’re very tense, ma’am. It’s definitely throwing off what we’re hoping to achieve here. Did you need a breather for a moment?”

Her whole face went red and the giant woman slumped defeatedly. “No,” she replied too quickly to have been honest about it. “I’ll be fine, just--”

She seemed to cut herself off this time as her eyes jumped down to her hand, Miller having skipped the line to start climbing into her palm as she knelt beside the newly-expanded scaffolding. “You’ll be fine after a good night’s rest, ma’am!” the man’s voice boomed up at her, the men and women around him offering the scattered nod of agreement. None of them seemed extremely upset by the discussions happening around their afternoon activity, but that did little to soothe her agitation. “You’ve been through the ringer today,” Ed added as her thumb shot up automatically to help him find his initial balance. “I don’t imagine whatever the General n’ Cap’n Hunt had to say to you was calming by any stretch.”

Her mouth opened to reply to him but hit the same wall she had felt when any of the other members had stepped onto her hand. A sudden urge to try and stop even so much as breathing to avoid causing some kind of problem. She would’ve loved to vent a bit about how today had been just an unending waterfall of bullshit and bureaucracy and people giving her ‘secret signals’ and ‘forget I told you this’ information.

Even the brief moment she had when Captain Hunt and Ais’lyn had approached her, dismissing Dawson before she had fully finished her conversation with him after he’d released all of the construction team to go get dinner, was tainted with a headache. It was clear both that Ais’lyn genuinely seemed to like Captain Hunt and wanted Melanie to like him as well, and also that the General wanted Melanie to gather something in terms of information from the man that she possibly wasn’t supposed to have.

She had not been able to get past how openly uncomfortable the man had been the entire time they were speaking though, even though she had offered him a much nicer handshake than she had presented to Captain Cleary earlier. She would’ve skipped it, honestly, if it weren’t for him stepping forward and offering her a handshake of his own volition. The conversation after that had just been more of the overly-complicated word-salads she’d been force-fed throughout the day, but now with the added drain of not being able to tune it out without offending someone she genuinely liked.

If Edmund had asked when they were just sitting around the fire-pit in an hour, she would’ve probably exploded with complaints that she couldn’t bring herself to hold back, but here? Here and now she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, and would be stuck just watching the comment die slowly.

It was Miller though, and as he worked himself around in an odd circle while she started to lift to the position for balance training, Henry found himself drawn into commenting on the conversation the second lieutenant had at least partially started.

“Official reminder that anything you may have overheard today is a matter of council business,” the Captain said, kicking his legs almost idly as he looked down to watch the practice. “No matter how asinine or ridiculous the comments were.”

“That’s the politest I could manage to say it, Captain,” Chase, whose hat was already off, piped up from his place near her knee. He had been one of the first to try the lift drills this evening and was currently waiting his turn in the rotation to go again. “Of all the things they could be asking--”

“Let’s not relive it,” Melanie interrupted uncomfortably, desperately wanting the conversation to end.

“We could-- ah-- we could probably, um, put Lieutenant Wright on stilts and-- and have her pretend to be you tomorrow, to give you a break,” Miller managed to get out between grunts of effort as he stomped back and forth in her hand like every choice of footing was obviously the wrong one. Her other hand swept in alongside him to give him more to grab onto as she let out a laugh along with several of the other members, some groaning at the joke instead.

“Honestly, that might work with half of them,” Henry said with a tired amusement from his position. “Try spreading your feet and keeping them spread, Ed, and take your other hand down. This is supposed to be for balance.”

“If he falls--” she started warningly, turning her eyes up to him without moving her hand out of the way like he ordered.

“I won’t fall, ma’am!” Ed said firmly, spreading his legs but in the most unhelpful way possible to himself.

Jones let out a sigh so loud that Melanie practically felt it in her ear. “Let him, ma’am,” he called up. “He’s dense enough to bounce without much damage.”

“Hey,” Ed blurted, turning and changing his footing again before either Melanie or Henry could correct him on trying to spread his feet diagonally and not straight across one direction or another. The giant woman took this moment to move her hand out of his reach, though it stayed hovering nearby. “I wouldn’t bounce.”

“Again,” Henry stressed from above nearly everyone, “we’re doing this specifically at a point where falling wouldn’t cause damage if it did happen, which it is unlikely to.” He turned his eyes to Melanie with a more stern expression. “So relax, please.”

This had the opposite effect on the giant woman as she levelled her gaze and leaned closer to the seated Captain, her brow focused as sharply as her eyes. “We aren’t alone.”

The small man’s posture went under a dramatic correction as the words hit him and he was overcome with confusion, his mouth opening to try and stammer out a reply before she continued, openly annoyed.

“I mean there’s more than just the brigade here,” she said with a sharp sigh. “I don’t want to drop some--”

Miller had either finally found the worst position for his feet to be in, or had tried to reach blindly for her other hand that was no longer there, the woman feeling his weight rock and nearly vanish as the man tipped with a short sound.

Vague, brief shouts came from the crowd on the ground as Henry nearly leapt forward so far in an attempt to see that if Wells hadn’t grabbed him, he may have toppled straight over.

Melanie’s hand swept back in with a reflex that the Captain was nearly embarrassed of as it slipped easily around Miller’s torso, under his arms, and adjusted the man upright once more. Her eyes moved from confirming the man was well in hand back to Henry and Wells as the latter helped the former to his feet with rapid mutterings about putting him somewhere more secure. 

The giant woman was no less aggravated.

“I don’t want to drop someone in front of other members of the Watch,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed and getting redder by the second. Miller hung in her hand, his feet dangling limply while his arms did all of the work of holding himself in place as they rested over the top and sides of her hand, gripping firmly. 

“Good catch, ma’am,” Francine said with a surprised chuckle, the sentiment quick to roll through the lift-team members. The giant woman seemed to shrink into herself more, pulling Miller closer to her torso and placing the palm of her other hand back under his feet, gazing briefly back up over her shoulder to see if anyone else was watching.

Henry, also red in the face, suddenly understood why she had insisted on orienting herself with her back toward the barracks despite that being the longer end of the scaffolding. “She’s very good at those,” he said, likely too quietly for anyone on the ground to hear, before clearing his throat and stepping back to where he could see Miller. “You alright, Ed?”

“Solid, sir!” Miller replied with the kind of laugh you make when your heart has spent the last while solidly up against your tonsils. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

Her mouth refused to open to reply, her body fighting the urge to stop breathing again as she tried to find the smoothest and safest way to get Edmund’s torso-- with it’s fluttering pulse and heaving breaths-- out of the gentle squeeze of her whole hand without accidentally dropping him to the ground. 

Massive hazel eyes turned back down to look at him to confirm what she was feeling; he was clearly scared. Or, at least, he had been. He was heavier than Henry by a fairly notable amount, his body a different shape to the one she was so familiar with. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just those differences that had her frozen and her brain letting out some kind of high pitched whistle instead of being useful to her.

Unlike Henry, unlike Commander Martellis… Miller wasn’t struggling. Even when Henry was finally used to being grabbed he would go stiff and simply wait for it to be over. Edmund wasn’t tense or writhing in a way like he wanted to push her hand off and run away from it, though. He was just… hanging there, almost content as his heart rate and breathing went back down to normal. Even now, when he seemed like he was more concerned about how she was than he was about himself, it was hard for her to believe it was true. But the proof was right there.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, Ed,” she said after taking a quick breath to fill surprisingly empty lungs. “I’m good, are you sure you’re ok? Do you-- should I put you--?”

He laughed again, shaking his head and spreading his arms out a little more as if he was reclining. “I’m good, really!”

A smile started to spread as relief washed over her in a crashing wave, and she had started to feel herself relax in stages when a voice came back to her ears again.

“See? It’s absolutely fi--” Henry was trying to say to her like she was a child who had been taught a lesson, and that sharp look came back to her again.

Her eyes shot up along with Miller as she glared at him, her ears still red. She tipped Ed at the man in the cerulean pants in emphasis of her point. “Don’t start.”

Miller, who had only gone momentarily tense at the movement before just going comfortably limp again, was laughing as Henry took in the preposterous gesture from his place on the stage.

“Don’t threaten me with Miller,” the man said with a look that was impossible to keep stern as he laughed at what he just said.

“Weaponize me all you like, ma’am, this is much better than trying to figure out where to put my feet,” Ed replied with a cocky grin between both of them.

“Decorum,” Henry said, lifting his hat off of his head and placing it into the hand of his slung arm just long enough to try and fix his hair. “This is balance training and if you aren’t going to balance, move onto the next member of the team.”

“Brigade,” Melanie and Miller corrected him in unison, the giant woman finally relaxing as she laughed, following the instructions almost begrudgingly to place him back on the ground and move on to the next member. Francine stepped up next, and much like the giant woman, seemed significantly more relaxed about the entire ordeal now.

They got through the rest of the lift drills with no more issues of people stumbling or falling, and by everyone’s second lift there had been marked improvements even if a lot of it could be attributed to everyone simply being more comfortable. It was even Hicks who suggested that everyone have at least one try with a lift from the ground to the top of the scaffolding while being grabbed ‘Miller-style’, which Henry and Wells agreed to much more easily than Melanie had expected them to.

Some were far more comfortable with it than others, but even those who didn’t like it were trusting enough to submit and work through it. All-in-all, no one was as bad for it as Henry had initially been, so it was a very successful evening that led to high spirits among the team member by the time the lift-team was heading back to the evening fire.

“She’s smokey tonight, boys,” Dawson called to them as they were just beginning to admire the new benches and seats that the construction team had drummed up. “Logs were a bit damp from the rain still.”

Melanie forced the smile to stay on her face as it dawned on her that Dawson might just be making excuses for why very few others were out around the fire. To be fair, the sun still hadn’t set, and at least Fuller’s kitchen team were still doing their cleaning duties for the night, but… her mind was always on it.

She was just settling in, Bartlett and Hicks helping Miller move the benches around what Miller believed was ‘the best place for her’, when half-way through stretching herself out to lay on the ground the General’s voice made her and several of the others jump.

“Captain Lemuels,” that clear, loud voice rang from the Commander’s balcony above them. “Meet with us in the Commander’s office, if you would.”

There was an awkward pause as Melanie and Henry both stared at each other. They had thought the General had left already.

“Yes, General,” Henry called, looking up to see mostly just the shape of her hat against the darkening overcast sky. “I’ll be up shortly.”

The giant woman was already pushing herself back off the ground with deep, disappointment-hiding breaths as Henry tried to quietly tell her not to, to no avail. Her hand landed next to him and he stepped on quickly, not even needing to grab her thumb for help with balancing as she stood from the ground and brought it over to the balcony.

To her-- and evidently Henry’s-- relief, they saw it was only herself, the Commander, and Captain Grant in attendance. Captain Hunt, thankfully, had left at a more reasonable hour.

“You’re both certainly experts enough to be training the team, then,” Ais’lyn said with a bright laugh as shining emerald eyes looked over both of them in a way that made the giant feel like they were being digitally scanned. “I have a lot of questions to ask regarding the whole endeavour, but for now, please--”

She wrapped an arm around Henry’s shoulders so boldly to lead him away that even without Grant’s unfamiliar look of amusement through the open doors, Melanie was very aware she made a face. She couldn’t tell if Henry had made a face as well, but once he saw Daniel’s she was sure he would.

“You can return to your off-duty time,” Ais’lyn said over her shoulder as she moved to grab the door handle.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the giantess replied with a deep, bow-like nod before vanishing back below, vaguely shrugging at the looks she got from the bolder or less subtle members of the brigade who had less qualms about overhearing. “Just the Commander, Captain Grant and her,” she breathed when she settled back down. 

“Was worried Captain Hunt was going to be spending the night,” Francine said, causing Melanie to raise her eyebrows curiously. The woman kicked back on one of the benches and started to undo her holster belts and the buttons on her coat as she continued. “While we’re technically assigned to the Duke and Dutchess, Hunt’s position as Patrol Captain still has the power to petition for any of us to be reassigned within the Royal Guard ranks, or to another Noble. He seems to be friends with the General, but… always get a little nervous when it feels like there’s extra eyes on me for assessment.”

“That’s how we felt when you all showed up!” Miller blurted out as he continued traipsing away from the window with a bun from the kitchen. Multiple members of the Watch scolded him loudly as Francine and Cassandra laughed. “It’s true!” He whined defensively, shaking his half-eaten bun around the circle before making a beeline to Melanie’s arm. “May I?”

The theatrical show he put on about asking, in an overly-dramatic ‘proper accent’, made her honestly giggle. She poked her elbow out a little further from its place next to her head, burying her mouth and nose into the sleeve of her coat by the other elbow as Miller situated himself next to her. Harper gave a briefly sheepish look before she lifted her head enough to show him she was smiling, tipping her head toward Miller in invitation. 

“Anyway,” Miller boldly called from her arm once he was comfortable, getting everyone’s attention again whether they liked it or not. “Just sayin’, we know how y’er feelin’ Lieutenant Wright.”

“Francine,” she said after a chuckling nod.

“Edmund, actually, but you were close!” He replied with such warm earnestness that if it hadn’t been for the fact he joined in on the laughter as easily as he did, Melanie would’ve thought Miller had genuinely made the mistake.

Chatter continued around her as the giant woman listened, eyes darting around the circle and lifting her head only enough to free her mouth when someone new joined them after being released from duties, though again it was mostly just her assigned members.

Even with Harper practically next to her ear, and Edmund so relaxed and casual about sitting on her that she was sure he was trying to force a groove into her arm, she didn’t brighten at all until that cerulean blue coat flapped its way out through the double-doors to catch the light of the campfire. She had been so excited, she had nearly missed the exceptionally tired look on his face.

“Nobody get up,” he said, interrupting the friendly greetings as he marched straight around the firepit at a clip. He motioned with his free hand for her to give him a place to sit and Melanie muttered a few quick sorries to Miller and Harper before adjusting herself to comply. “General’s on the way but doesn’t want to be hassled.” 

The tone of his voice as she propped herself up a bit more on her elbows, still leaving Miller and Harper to their space but moving her other hand out in front of them, indicated that he was the one who had been ‘hassled’. That seemed to be extremely true, as she noticed that his hat was not only firmly on his head, but his hair had been fixed and tidied to fit under it better.

He threw himself down into her upturned palm with such force that she felt the wind shoot out of him as his back slammed into the heel. “Mind the boots,” she scolded him quietly as he tried to adjust his lounging position with the help of a fingertip.

“I’m Captain, I don’t have to mind them, just have to wear them,” he shot back with a hint of bitterness from somewhere below the tricorner. She nudged at his side with the pad of her thumb before turning her eyes to the double doors again, waiting for the parade of authority to reach them. 

Wells, who had been stretched out and lying on a leftover stack of wooden planks, had at least sat up enough to give proper posture as Melanie watched the full array of expressions come over the General, the Commander, and Captain Grant. The first lieutenant hopped down to offer a sharp salute, Ais’lyn calling sharply ahead to ‘cut that out’. 

As each of them in turn came into view of the arrangement of bodies outside, the delight on the General’s face gave way to the… mostly pleasant surprise on the Commander’s.

Grant was aggravated, seemingly most put-off by Henry’s position nearly prone on the ground, but being the lesser of the three in terms of rank obviously didn’t see fit to say anything. 

“Melanie,” Ais’lyn called clearly, her hair blowing in the cool light breeze as she whipped off her exceptional hat. “Now that we’ve settled on the plan from the Watch side of things, I’ll let you know directly and in plain language: construction on your quarters will begin on Monday, once the scholars have arrived to root your things like the pigs they are.”

“General,” Martellis offered carefully in warning from beside her.

She was evidently not to be swayed. “You’ll spend the week’s end here, to give the Barracks proper time to prepare for you to potentially stay there for the week during construction, but I’ll be honest with you-- that’s still up to council discussion, and--”

“I could move my tent here and pin it up out of the way,” the giant woman blurted out. “I don’t have to move, if--”

“That’s not your decision,” Captain Grant said in that cutting curtness as Henry’s hand subtly grabbed and pressed at the flesh of her hand, her jaw clamping shut. “If the builders don’t wish to be around you, that’s to be factored in.”

“Mind your tone,” Henry said sharply, leaning up and yanking the hat off of his head to make sure Daniel could see the whole of his expression.

Martellis had already taken a side-step closer to Grant as Ais’lyn straightened her posture and raised a pointing hand to Henry. “Captain Grant is correct-- the comfort of the builders is to be considered as a top priority as we need this job done correctly as much as we want it done quickly. It may just be simpler to have her stay at the Barracks grounds instead while the work is done, that is all we mean to say.”

Whatever Henry attempted to reply as he slapped his hat back on sloppily was lost under the giant sound of Melanie’s voice as she interrupted. “I understand. Whatever needs to happen.”

The man in her palm slumped his weight down, sinking against the warm softness of her hand as if to will her to do the same, but the damage had been done. As Ais’lyn commended her for her ‘grasp of the situation’ or whatever it was the woman believed worth applauding, Melanie had gone stiff all over, simply trying to maintain the appearance of attention and focus as her mind went wild.

Henry had condemned her in the past for being ‘too insistent’ at pretending to be alright, and she was sure even now that the man wasn’t being fooled by her vague humming and nods in the place of conversation, letting him do what little talking he was comfortable with while they were under the eyes of the brass.

Wells had moved to lean against the wall with his arms crossed as the conversation seemed to drag on and on, the giant’s fellow Brigade members being lauded rather loudly for their ‘bravery’ and their ‘constitution’ in the exercise of lift-drills and such. Every compliment was the twist of a knife to her; she was the problem that everyone was doing such a good job of dealing with. She was the obstacle that it took them such bravery to overcome. They were deserving of applause, for putting up with so much.

Melanie agreed.

It wasn’t even a question. 

She was so much.

She was too much.

It was a miracle they--

“Alright.”

Wells’ voice caught everyone’s attention suddenly as he loudly pushed himself off the wall, dusting his hands off on his pants. “I’m hitting the beds for the night if no one’s got need of me sirs, General?”

The three standing members of the brass took a quick second to glance at each other and confirm that no one had need of him, the Commander nodding politely to the man. “Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Martellis said as Miller muttered quietly under his breath about ‘early bedtimes’ and ‘stolen fun’, or something to that effect.

“It would seem that I’m well overdue for returning to my husband,” Ais’lyn sighed loudly, glancing up at the sky, clearly thrown off of her train of thought for the evening. “I’ll head to gather my horse and take my attendings with me.”

Her eyes turned to Henry, his position splayed in the giant woman’s hand with his hat at an angle as such that it nearly covered his eyes. “No need to get up, Captain Lemuels,” she said in an almost teasing tone.

“Henry is fine still, General Ais’lyn,” he returned with a dullness that implied he was overly done with any of the conversation currently happening. His good hand moved to lift his hat in a polite show of respect all the same, which seemed to satisfy everyone but Daniel.

“Captain Henry, then,” she sang as she turned to walk away, ignoring his huff if she happened to hear it. Commander Martellis turned to walk with her only to get a scolding remark to ‘stay and enjoy the night’ and a dismissive wave of her hand.

“...For future reference--” Daniel began sharply once they had finished watching her turn toward the stables, Cassandra having wordlessly entered the mess hall to gather the attending members for her Grace.

“She told me to stay seated,” Henry cut in at a volume that almost startled the giant woman above him.

Melanie watched as the Commander’s mouth moved but no sound came out, obviously an attempt at reigning in Grant before the fight fully broke out. It was futile, however. 

“The rules of decorum insist that--” the blonde man started.

“That she play with my hair?” the blue-clad man shot back, leaning up to shoot him a look. “Pretence for decorum was not established by her Grace, whose lead we’re to follow in any non-active military situation.”

“Captains,” Martellis’ tired voice came a bit louder this time, Grant rocking for a moment as if it had worked before the brief hesitation had passed him.

“Well this is hardly a party,” Daniel snapped.

“You wouldn’t have been invited if it was,” Henry retorted.

“Alright.” 

Everyone around the fire seemed to jump, including Henry, as the giant woman cleared her throat a little, her cheeks flushing. Miller, ever unperturbed even by her volume, was trying to reign in some chuckles from near her elbow. “Sorry,” she uttered back at her usual quietness, the slight rasp back in her voice. “I think I’d like to follow Wells’ example and head to bed, if I could be dismissed Commander?”

She had been wanting to exit this conversation since the General had walked out the doors. Now that so many people were simply staring at her, she wished she could evaporate. Martellis took a moment, blinking, before seeming to come to his senses at a nudge from Grant. “Yes, Melanie, you’re dismissed.”

“No,” a voice called ahead of themselves from inside the double doors, and the giant woman damn near sank into the ground at the sound of it, her quiet groans still loud enough to warrant a ‘mind’ from the man in her hand. “I need her, sorry Commander.”

“I don’t get an apology?” She asked bluntly.

“Mind,” Henry repeated louder.

“Sorry you can’t be trusted to keep yourself in one piece for a single day,” the snap of Devon’s voice cracked at her as he marched out through the doors with Kendrick in tow. “Need to check your head again.”

“Decorum,” Martellis warned them both, shifting on his feet with a strange mix of surprise and discomfort all over his face as Miller and several of the other core members of her team started to laugh.

“Where’s Lionus?” Melanie asked, straightening herself as much as she could to put her head even more out of reach of the medic she continued to frown at.

“Decorum,” Grant echoed the Commander with a huff. 

“Where’s the better doctor, sir?” She repeated, Miller damn near choking on a laugh.

Devon walked to her side of the fire and stopped, waving passively for Kendrick to continue toward her. “He hasn’t been here all day. Left before the breakfast call. Let Kendrick see your head before we find some way to tie you down.”

Melanie’s brow furrowed toward the Lance Corporal, both of them wearing matching scowls at one another. She hadn’t even noticed that Lionus had snuck out this morning, and as she dwelled on it more her face fell at the idea that he simply couldn’t stand to be around her anymore than he had to yesterday. “Couldn’t we do this at a window so it’s easier on everyone?” She asked, trying to change the subject before her stomach could turn more.

“No,” Devon and Daniel said clearly at the same time, Devon seemingly surprised by the Captain’s presence in the conversation. She frowned, taking a second to turn her eyes down to the hand that was nearly under her chin and jostled it lightly. Henry’s hat didn’t even move to try and look up, he simply crossed his legs at the ankles and rested back more firmly in her palm.