Topic: Arlan's Day

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2012-05-11 17:14 EST
((Part three of Liam and Shaye's backstory, taking place a full year after the events of An Unlikely Beginning and Impasse. Liam is fourteen, almost fifteen; Shaye is thirteen, almost fourteen.)) _______________________________

Arlan's Day, the first of the New Year, was one of the biggest celebrations in Arctra's calendar. It was moreso for the teenaged recruits who had survived their first year in Phalia's training camp. This was the first opportunity they all had to wear their new dress uniforms; shaped bronze plate for both male and female, though the girls were forced to wear dress-like robes beneath. They were to attend a gathering with the officers and men of the legions who would be following their progress with interest. Unfortunately for Shaye, this meant that the girls in their barrack room had decided to make a real effort, and she was being forced to join in. Judging by the growled threats and occasional yelps, this was not going at all well.

As for the boys, they, too, were expected to look their best and that meant baths and grooming. Liam had grown over the past year or so and was quickly turning into a tall, handsome young man, his boy-like features changing and maturing. The blond curls of boyhood had grown out and just brushed his shoulders. Though not quite yet six feet in height, he'd grown taller this past year and showed no signs of stopping. He was slowly filling out, building muscles from all the hard work and training.

He'd managed to catch the eyes of a few of the girls, but he seemed to either be uninterested or ignorant of their interest. He and Shaye had long settled their conflict over the best bed, deciding to take turns on a regular basis. On especially cold nights, Shaye would often still sneak into Liam's bed to keep warm, and Liam pretended not to notice. Over the past year, they had become unlikely friends, though he still held her at a certain distance, afraid of his growing and confusing feelings for the skinny waif of a girl, who was also slowly blossoming.

Shaye, of course, would have been highly offended to realise that she was blossoming in any way, but the truth was that puberty had hit her hard in the last year. This Arlan's Day saw her only a few days away from her own fourteenth birthday, and she had matured accordingly.

Shot up in height, she would never be as tall as Liam, but she stood on a par with the other girls now, a svelte five feet and seven inches; the coltish, boyish figure was swiftly becoming a thing of the past. Even with the sturdy build of muscles beneath her skin, she was never going to be anything but a womanly woman when her maturing came to an end. As the puppy fat slimmed from her face, the potential of her looks was becoming more and more a reality, though the real beauty was still some way off. And thanks to her lack of interest in her own appearance, all this was topped with a wild, tangled mane of blonde hair that was currently the bane of her existence.

"Ow! Ailis - ow!" There was a crash from the far end of the barracks, from behind the blanket the other girls had erected to protect their dubious modesty from the boys who shared their sleeping quarters. "Swear to the gods, you put that thing in my hair one more time, and I will feed it to you, understand?"

Liam's own hair was a blond mop that hung loosely about his face, cheeks still as smooth as a boy's, no facial hair yet, but his features had changed, matured, the look of manhood about him, green-brown eyes as serious as ever. Despite the mop of hair, he cut a dashing figure in his dress uniform and when he finally decided to rescue Shaye from the hands of the other girls - or the other way around - the small gaggle of girls moved out of his way without question, amidst a few whispers and giggles. "Give me the comb," he told the girl Ailis, the tone of his voice expecting no argument; a leader already if not in rank, then in attitude.

They'd all learned that if anyone could calm Shaye down it was Liam, though he was just as likely to anger her, her mood volatile and changeable, and his impatient and blunt.

Ailis was only too happy to give the comb up, pinned as she was against the wall with Shaye's forearm pressed against her collarbone. Liam's unlikely best friend was no less rough, no less inclined to fight dirty after a year of training; she was just better at holding herself back these days.

With their dark-haired barrack mate relieved of her weapon, Shaye backed off with a relieved grin, flashing a cheery wink to Ailis. "See" Wasn't so hard, was it?"

Despite the rather abruptly violent end to the little lesson in beautifying herself, it was obvious that Ailis had been on the right track. Most of Shaye's blonde mane was smooth, hanging down her back in sandy-golden waves - it was just a crowning coronet of tangles that needed dealing with now.

Liam held out his hand for the comb, until Ailis gave it up, turning toward Shaye with a critical eye, seeing the potential beneath that mop of tangled gold hair. "Sit down," he demanded, shoving a chair at her, expecting her to obey him, not taking no for an answer. He'd worry about his own mop of hair as soon as he was finished with hers.

Despite the giggling admiration bestowed on Liam by the other three girls, they'd all lived in the same barracks for far too long not to recognise the signs of danger that flared as he turned his authoritarian attitude on his best friend. As Shaye's dark eyes narrowed on Liam, the girls hurried beyond the supposed privacy of the hanging blanket.

"Excuse me?" Shaye asked in a dangerously low tone, making no move to do as her friend told her. "Did you just try and give me an order" 'Cos I seem to recall that ending badly for you last time you gave it a go."

He rolled his eyes at her, in no mood for her attitude. If they were late or didn't look presentable, there'd be hell to pay, and it wouldn't just be her who'd be in trouble - the Sergeant would make sure all their lives were miserable.

"Sit down, please," he rephrased his words, changing them from an order to a request, emphasizing the please in hopes she'd relent and do as he asked.

Her narrowed gaze shifted from his face to the comb in his hand. As much as she would have liked to have given the ceremonial a miss entirely, she knew how much he was looking forward to seeing his parents, and despite her own misgivings about parents in general, Shaye didn't want to see Liam disappointed. Letting out a resigned sigh, she thumped down onto the chair. "Fine, get on with it, then," she conceded finally. "Can't be any more painful than that head-hating sadist out there."

"What are you going to do in the field if I ever have to give you an order, Shaye' Insist I say please before you engage?" There wasn't much comparison between having one's hair combed and taking military orders, but he was trying to make a point.

Once she was seated, he stepped behind her, using the comb to carefully work the tangles out of her hair, wondering when the last time was that she'd combed it, but biting his tongue and not asking for fear she'd be insulted. His touch was surprisingly gentle and he seemed to be slowly getting the job done.

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2012-05-11 17:18 EST
"You're not my commanding officer yet, Liam," she pointed out stubbornly. "None of us have any rank, and I'm sick of people holding it over me that I've come from nothing anyway. I don't like it, and I don't expect you to do it. When you're my commander, I'll obey any order you give. But not until it happens."

That was possibly the most she'd said in one go all day, having spent most of the daylight hours in sullen silence while the girls fussed over her. But there was a distinct difference between having Ailis chattering and pulling the comb through tangles, and having Liam's gentle touch encouraging her hair to behave itself. If the truth were told, Shaye had never had a comb through her hair before today, and it was thanks to the girls' efforts that the places where it had dreaded itself together had already been dealt with. She'd remember to thank them tomorrow, but for now, she was just tired of being fussed over.

"I'm not holding it over you," he contradicted her. Even after knowing her for a year, whenever she seemed to display any loss of faith in him, it wounded him to the core. Loyalty and honor were paramount in importance to him, and it hurt to think she thought he was no better than anyone else in his treatment of her. "We're equals here, but sometimes you're so damned stubborn..."

He sighed, biting off the rest of his words. Her hair was turning to silk beneath his fingers, and he felt that strange, inexplicable twisting ache inside at the thought of it. It wouldn't be long before the other boys started to notice her. "I used to comb my mother's hair sometimes," he blurted out, a bit wistfully. "It's long and golden like yours."

Her head tipped back to let the dark eyes he knew so well look into his with an unspoken glimmer of understanding. "Gold's not a word anyone's used to describe anything about me before," she commented quietly, regret seeping into her gaze as his fingers stroked through her hair. "I didn't mean to snap at you, Liam. I'm just not used to having to behave like a girl. I'm wearing a dress, for gods' sakes!" The look of disgust on her face would have been comical, even if it wasn't upside down. Her hand rose to catch his as the last tangle slipped free of her hair, entwining their fingers as she squeezed firmly. "You're my best friend. I don't want to hurt you, especially not on purpose."

It wasn't the first time she'd touched him, and it most likely wouldn't be the last, but for some reason, when she tangled their fingers together, her dark eyes meeting his, he felt his heart suddenly thud in his chest as if it beat only for her. The spell only lasted a moment before he pushed the feeling away. He'd think on it later, when he had time to think. She was trying to apologize, and he found himself suddenly at a loss for words.

After another moment, he found his voice, squeezing her hand in return. "Don't worry so much, Shaye. I'm not hurt and you look..." He broke off, licking his lips nervously. "It's only one day." One day to wear a dress, one day to look like the lovely young woman he always knew she could be.

Her lips curved in the familiarly wild, lopsided smile that was always going to identify her to those who knew what they were looking for. "I look ridiculous, this I know," she agreed with a chuckle, rising from the chair. Her fingers were slow to release his, innocent of the warm thud of his heart or the deeper attachment that was growing between them. "Right, your turn," she told him through her cheeky smile, pointing to the chair. "If sir would like to sit sir's backside down?" Her hand opened for the comb.

"That's not the word I'd use to describe you," he muttered low. He'd told her once before that she was pretty, long ago, before she'd started to blossom, when she was still as skinny as a string bean, but he didn't think she remembered. He arched a single brow when she suggested she'd return the favor, that familiar, prideful, upward tilt of his chin.

"I can do it," he said, as stubborn as she was. He felt nervous, on edge, knowing how important this was, that his mother and more importantly, his father was going to be there to watch the procession and enjoy the celebration. Despite his prideful misgivings, he handed her the comb and sank down onto the chair, frowning moodily.

Shaye's brow rose, her cocky attitude restored as she smirked at him. One hand pointed to the chair. "Sit. Don't make me knock you down." And they both knew she would, as well. Her fingers closed around the comb. "Look, I know I don't do the girly thing much, but I grew up in a brothel. I can do hair, trust me." As he sat himself down, she came to stand behind him, drawing her fingertips through the gentle curl of his hair to find the tangles before she touched the comb to the coarser silk of his crowning glory. "You tying this back for tonight?"

He'd been debating that very question all day, as if hair was the most important thing in the world. He hadn't cut it in over a year, trying to grow it long, like a proper solider, but he wasn't sure if it was long enough yet to tie back away from his face. "Is it long enough?" he asked, lifting a hand to touch his hair and judge whether he should wear it long or tied back. He was anxious to become a man and put his boyhood behind him.

It didn't take long to comb the snarls free from his hair, and Shaye inserted the comb into her own hair as she considered the problem of grooming Liam's mop of half-curls thoughtfully. "I dunno," she admitted, again stroking her fingers through the now smooth silk of his hair, enjoying the freedom to do so a little bit too much for her own peace of mind. "Tying all of it back won't work, I don't think. Can get the top half back so it doesn't flop in your face, though, if you want."

He found the touch of her fingers in his hair disconcerting, gentle and unlike the way she usually touched him. A jab here, a punch there, playful, friendly, even sisterly in her regard of him. It was in those quiet moments when she'd take to his bed and curl herself against him, when he pretended to be asleep and not know she was there, that he felt the most confused, wanting to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, but too afraid to do it - afraid she'd laugh at him or think him soft. These last few months, he'd held her at arms' length, but now that she was touching him again, he felt all his resolve coming undone.

"I'll do it," he told her, abruptly getting up from the chair and pulling his hair back away from his face.

"All right." She stepped back, her hands held splayed in a gesture of peaceful acquiesence to his sudden insistence, her smile not affected by the abrupt retreat from her touch. It was only recently that Liam had started to pull away, and she figured it was a phase, that he was trying to convince himself that he didn't need friends to be a good soldier. She wasn't letting herself think about what it would mean if it wasn't a phase; the loss of her first and best friend would be a blow Shaye wasn't likely to take quietly.

Tossing the comb aside, she unwound a length of leather from her wrist, offering it over to him before lifting her hands to her own hair, drawing the now smooth mane into a simple braid back from her face.

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2012-05-11 17:25 EST
He took the length of leather from her, looking at the long mane of gold that framed a face still girlish, yet starting to show signs of maturity. Her eyes, though, would always be the same, a dark contrast to the fair features and gold hair - eyes that were at once both impish and darkly serious, a hint of the pain she carried deep inside, that she had shared with him in small bits and pieces.

He'd heard her talk in her sleep; he knew more than she thought he knew. He stepped forward, drawn to her, unsure what he was feeling, but knowing that he cared for her. She was his best friend, the sister of his heart, or maybe something more.

"Let me," he offered, taking her by the shoulders to turn her gently and weave the golden mane in between his fingers, deftly plaiting her hair into a long thick braid.

Liam was a huge walking contradiction for Shaye. He was her best friend, the closest thing she'd ever had or would ever have to a brother, someone who accepted her for who and what she was and tried very hard not to judge her for the background that had produced her. As they had both matured over the year, Shaye had been forced to listen to the other girls giggling and mooning over her friend, and her reaction to that was still a mystery to her.

It made her angry that Ailis or the others thought Liam was just a pretty face to enjoy, yes, but what had begun to hurt was the thought that he probably thought the same way about some of them. That in the years to come, he'd start exploring his body, his natural urges, with the girls who flirted wildly with him, and she'd be shunted off to one side.

She didn't want to make any effort to make herself look better, feeling certain that she would never compare with the other girls in their division anyway, and stubbornly insisting to herself that she didn't care to look pretty for anyone, much less her best friend. But in moments like this, when she and Liam were quiet and private, and he had no one else to distract him, Shaye had started to feel an odd flutter, deep inside; a sensation that confused and unsettled her, and yet one she wanted to feel more of.

She flickered an almost shy glance over her shoulder as her friend drew her hair into that thick braid, feeling the familiar weight settle between her shoulderblades once more. He was turning into a handsome man, even she could see that. "It's almost time," she said softly, surprised by the gentleness in her own, usually rough, tone.

A companionable silence had settled between them, as if often did when they were alone, content, it seemed, just to be in the companionship of the other. It was one of the things he liked best about her. Unlike the other girls who would continously chatter, she could almost sense when he wasn't feeling like talking, when all he wanted was quiet companionship.

He caught the shy glance from her, but thought little of it, too nervous himself about the upcoming ceremonies and assuming she only thought of him as a friend or an older brother. He grunted quietly in reply, a habit that would follow him through manhood, and wrapped the leather cord around the end of the braid to hold it in place.

"There, you look like a proper warrior," he told her as he stepped back to let her admire his handiwork. He pulled his own hair back from his face, tying the top back so that the boyish curls no longer drooped across his brow or blew in his face.

Forcibly slapping down the softer side of her nature - a side that only Liam got to glimpse on rare occasions - Shaye felt herself smile in relief as he stepped away. "Halfway to the real thing, looking like one," she agreed, shaking her head to test the hang of that braid before turning to watch him. "You've always been a warrior," she told him, reaching out to deliver the familiar thump of a playful punch against his shoulder. "Don't need a fancy 'do to make it real."

He grunted again in reply to her compliment, swaying a little in place when she thumped his shoulder. "No, I haven't. My father thinks me too soft. He wanted to send me here sooner, but..." He turned away, trailing off and fidgeting with his uniform, telling her more about his childhood and what he had to prove here in a few words than he'd ever told anyone since his arrival. "I just want him to be proud of me."

She smiled, understanding as much as she could of his feelings, though her relationship with her own father was hardly comparable. "Tell you what," she suggested, flinging an arm around his shoulders with a clank as their armor crashed together, "I'll let you plant a good hit on me in the demonstrations. Might even let you win, after I beat everyone else into the ground." It wasn't much of an offer, since Liam had so far beaten her in every match they'd had against one another, but her heart was in the right place.

Her offer made him smile, his face brightening, and he even laughed. "You think I can't do it on my own?" He turned his head toward her as her arm went around his shoulders, an affectionate gleam in his eyes. "Care for another wager?" he asked, his smile turning into a mischievous smirk, remembering what had happened the last time and every time they'd wagered. She would always end up bragging about how she was going to beat him, and sometimes she even managed to do it on her own, the wager usually ending in one or both of them getting into some kind of trouble or another.

"Gods, you're too tall," she complained, rolling her eyes with a grin as her arm fell from around his shoulders. She laid her hand instead on the hilt of his sword, thankfully completely innocent of the rather ribald euphemism that manouevre presented to the older recruits. "Depends what the wager is, you know that," she grinned back, flashing her familiarly cocky wink up at him. "Gonna get us bawled out in front of the Queen's Men, are you?"

He laughed again as he slanted a glance down at her from his height. "Not today. Not with my father watching. He'd have my head! He's a Captain now, you know," he informed her with a certain amount of pride, drifting into friendly albeit nervous chatter. His smile faltered as a thought came to mind. "I-I'd like you to meet him. Mother, too. I've told her about you in my letters."

This little announcement was greeted with a certain amount of shy disbelief. "What ....seriously?" Shaye couldn't quite get her head around anyone wanting to meet her, much less Liam's parents. She'd always imagined him as having a very well to do, very loving family; there wasn't a place for her there, and she'd never attempt to muscle in.

She bit her lip, her expression clearly torn between almost eager agreement and the inevitable wary uncertainty that came when they spoke about families. "My pa's supposed to be here, too," she warned Liam quietly. "I don't ever want you knowing what I come from, and I don't want your folks to know either. They might ....might not want you hanging around with me, 'specially if your pa knows mine."

His frown deepened, wondering if he should have told her that, if she'd feel strange about him mentioning her to his mother. He had an especially close bond to his mother and could sometimes be found alone in the barracks scribbling a letter to her while the others were out somewhere doing whatever it was they did when they weren't at the practice field.

His brows knitted into a frown at her warning, followed by that proud, defensive lift of his chin. "I don't care what you come from and neither will they. You're my..." He paused, searching for the right words to describe her. "They don't choose my friends. I do."

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2012-05-11 17:29 EST
He didn't share what he thought of her father or what he thought he'd do to the man if he so much as lifted a finger at Shaye. From what she'd told him, he already hated him.

She didn't refute his proud insistence, content to have delivered the warning without fireworks for once. As much as Liam was loyal to her, as much as he dug his heels in and insisted that her background meant nothing, she was deathly afraid that one look at her father would destroy their friendship forever. Hopefully Fionn Fargil would not be drunk today, but even sober, he could be appalling. Personally, she was hoping he wouldn't even recognise her.

"I'm glad of that," she admittedly in a low voice, even as she swept the blanket aside to let them rejoin their barrackmates. "Wouldn't've lasted the year without you to keep me out of trouble." It was the closest either of them were going to get to an open admission of just how close their friendship had become, for now.

He smiled again, once again touched by her compliment, as rare as they were coming from her. The smile was warm with affection, and he temporarily relinquished his promise to himself not to touch her by brushing a stray strand of blond back from her face that had slipped out of the braid. "Yes, you would. You just wouldn't have had as much fun." He let his gaze linger on her for a moment before realizing that they were no longer alone as the blanket barrier came down. He fought against the rising blush that still, even after a year, threatened to expose his feelings from time to time during moments like this one.

For the first time, Shaye felt her own cheeks grow hot in his presence - not because of the brush of his fingertips against her cheek, but because of the teasing snickers that rose from their friends waiting for them. Flashing Liam a warm smile, she turned her attention to the group in front of them, lifting a threatening finger. "First person to say anything eats my fist."

Liam was not smiling. There was nothing he found amusing about this situation. On the contrary, his face flushed with mingled anger and embarrassment, more for her sake than his. It had been a completely innocent gesture, no matter the reason. The kind of gesture a brother might make to a sister, and that was what he wanted all of them, including Shaye, to think. "Come on," he told Shaye, ignoring the others and their snickers and teasing. "We'll be late."

On cue, the familiarly gruff tones of Sergeant Makos snapped in through the doorway. "All right, ladies, form up, form up! Time to present yourselves to the Lord Marshal! Everybody out!"

In response to that snapping voice, there was a flurry of movement. Bodies in full dress uniform poured forth from the six barracks set around the first year training ground. Flashing a grin to Liam, relieved that their little by-play was not going to be talked up for long, Shaye fell into step with the others, snapping to attention under the training sergeant's beady eyes.

Liam waited until all the others had filed out, before he fell into line, as if to make sure no one was missing or had been left behind. It was something he did without thinking, not even realizing it was a valuable trait that was desired in a leader and not necessarily something that could be taught. He watched as Shaye joined the others, relieved for once that the Sergeant had interrupted, saving them both from embarrassment and saving Shaye from getting into an untimely tussle. Tallest and oldest of the group, he followed the others out and closed the door behind them.

Where Liam was last, Shaye was first, and neither of them realised that these were both qualities an officer required, albeit officers of differing rank working together. Under the Sergeant's orders, the fifty-seven recruits who had survived the first year's training marched in perfect lines from the training ground and into the parade ground. Dignitaries lined the stands all around them, shoulder to shoulder with soldiers and officers of the 4th, 7th, 17th, and 42nd legions, the men and officers who were following these recruits with interest. And in that crowd were also the parents and families of these recruits, most of them proud to see their children so smartly turned out.

Liam unconsciously straightened his uniform before falling into line, sharp eyes watching the recruits in front of him, not daring to glance aside to see if he could spy his parents in the crowd, facing forward as they marched together out onto the parade ground. He felt a surge of pride, not only for himself but for all the others who had survived training with him, and especially for the girl whom no one had seemed to think would make it past the first month, save him.

The Lord Marshal, a kindly looking old soldier who had the honor of being the highest ranking man in the Queen's army, stood on a dais as the recruits were marched in front of him, his gaze covering them all as they stood to attention, each giving the Queen's salute - right fist thumped firmly over their heart - perfectly in time with one another.

"Congratulations," he declared, his voice loud enough for all to hear. "You have successfully completed the first year of your training. From this point onward, you will be worked harder, longer. You will be split into officers and men, but hear this - every woman and man in Her Majesty's armies is valued. From the lowest soldier to the Lord Marshal, we all have a place that is valued and desired. You are the pride of Arctra. I wish you all the greatest of luck in your future endeavors. But first ....I am sure you would like to know which of you will be entering the officer classes when training resumes."

Even a few months ago, this would have set Shaye to fidgeting in anticipation. But now, mostly thanks to Liam's disapproval of her bad habit, she was calm and still. The only sign of her excitement was in her eyes, and that excitement was on her best friend's behalf. She knew he was officer material, just waiting to hear his name called.

Liam straightened, muscles stiffening in nervous tension, even as he stood at attention. As much as he wanted his eyes to wander over the crowd and over his friends, he dared not let them waver. This was their shining moment when all their hard work - the blood, sweat, and tears of the past year - would be rewarded. Just as his mother had predicted, he had left a boy and would return a man. It didn't matter much to him if his name was called and he was chosen to become an officer.

He had almost dreaded this moment, knowing this was when they would all be sorted out and separated, their future paths chosen. There was at least one in the group he didn't want to be separated from, but the decision was not his to make. No matter what he thought, he knew it was a matter of pride for his father, and he held his breath as he waited for the names to be called.

The commander standing beside the Lord Marshall stepped forward, unrolling a ribbon-tied parchment from which he began to read names. The first dozen or so were of no interest, belonging to members of other barracks, but then ...."Barrack Five. Brody; O'Connor; Dervla."

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2012-05-11 17:32 EST
Liam's only reaction to the announcement was a slight relaxation of his muscles and a blink of his eyes, flooded with relief that his father would be pleased and proud. A small smile flickered at the corners of his mouth when he heard Shaye's name mentioned, feeling that same swell of pride that he felt when he'd first stepped onto the parade grounds, proud and happy that against all the odds, they both had been chosen. His eyes darted briefly toward where she stood, craning his neck to see over the other recruits, hoping to see her reaction.

Her reaction was worth seeing. She'd colored, her pale skin deepening to a rich pink in pleased embarrassment at somehow having managed to impress the sergeants, her lips tightening to hold back a smile. But that reaction was short-lived. In the silence of the stands, a loud voice suddenly broke ranks. "No!"

Shaye started visibly, recognising the voice even through the drunken slur. She didn't dare look as her father, Sergeant-At-Arms Fionn Fargil, blundered his way from where he was sat amongst the other NCOs of the 17th, declaring his outrage at her elevation. "No stinking whorechild's going to outrank me fresh out of training!"

Liam couldn't help but turn his head toward the sole voice that spoke out against the announcement. It was a proud moment in the lives of the recruits and their families, friends, and loved ones. He couldn't help but notice the drunken man in the crowd. Every head was turned his way, but it did not yet occur to Liam who the man was shouting about.

Despite the clinging hands that reached for their sergeant, Fargil managed to lurch out onto the parade ground, unsteady with drink and almost incoherent with rage. "She's nothin' but a mistake, she should've been drowned at birth - stinkin', prideful, wastrel daughter of a stupid whore who didn't know any better! She's not worth any rank, should've been tossed out months ago!"

Shaye's cheeks had colored darker with anger and shame, humiliated by her own father not simply in front of her comrades, but in front of the Lord Marshal, too. Her eyes lifted to the Lord Marshal, seeing the pained shock in his gaze as he looked at her. "With your permission, sir," she heard herself say, pleased when her voice didn't even shake. She knew she'd lost a lot of friends, thanks to this moment. She was nothing but a whorechild.

The Lord Marshal nodded. "Permission granted, Dervla."

Embarrassed, humiliated, Shaye stepped smartly out of the ranks and over to her father, catching him by one arm to march him from the parade ground. She didn't dare look back toward Liam; even if he wasn't shocked beyond belief, he was likely steaming with anger. She didn't want to see that.

Shock came first at the realization that the drunk spewing the insults was not only a Sergeant in the Queen's army, but that those insults were aimed at someone he had come to care for. Once the shock wore off, the anger came next. Liam wasn't sure he'd ever felt such rage before. If it hadn't been for the crowd and the importance of the moment, he'd have broken ranks and gone after the man himself, but he could only stand and watch while Shaye led him away, a disgrace to the Queen's army, as far as Liam was concerned.

He clenched his jaw as he watched, curling his hands into angry fists, brown-green eyes flashing with barely-repressed rage. "If he so much as touches one hair on her head..." he muttered quietly to himself, so quiet only those closest him would be able to hear.

"Easy." The warning voice came from Sergeant Makos who stood behind him, growled just under the man's breath. "Eyes front, lad, not long to go. Speak to your parents, enjoy the day. She'll be back, if she can." He spoke with the voice of one who knew what he was talking about, underneath the level of the commander's voice as the rest of the new officer class recruits' names were read out.

Liam reluctantly turned his eyes forward at the Sergeant's warning. She had disappeared from view anyway, but he felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her alone with the man who called himself her father, and he privately promised himself to find her the first chance he had and make sure she was all right, even if it meant sacrificing a long-awaited visit with his parents.

The rest of the ceremony felt interminable, not only for Liam but for the rest of his barrackmates. They were each ashamed on Shaye's behalf for the behaviour of her father, for the selfishness that had destroyed what should have been a proud moment for her. The Lord Marshal's eyes kept returning to their ranks, studying each of them as they simmered down, continually returning to Liam's glowering face, until finally the recruits were dismissed. They fell out, more than fifty young teenagers quickly surrounded by family and friends, the first visit they'd been allowed in a full year.

Shaye's absence didn't sit right with Liam, and as soon as the recruits were dismissed, he was searching the crowd for her face, angry at her father's outburst and worried for her safety. Unlike the others, he felt no shame on her behalf, only anger. She was not like Fionn Fargil, she was better than him. She had proven herself, and she had nothing to be ashamed of, at least as far as her friend was concerned.

She wasn't in the crowd to be found, though he wasn't the only one keeping his eyes open for the sight of her. Whatever Makos said, Liam knew Shaye better than to think she'd come back to the scene of such a humiliating display. For all her insistence that she had come from nothing, she had too much pride to face the pity.

It wasn't pity he was feeling. Compassion, perhaps, but not pity. He'd stopped pitying her long ago. She was better than that, deserved better than that. She'd not only earned his friendship but his respect, and he needed to make sure she was all right. He started toward the Sergeant in hopes of asking if he knew where she might go, completely forgetting that his parents had come to see him and to share in the celebration.

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2012-05-11 17:36 EST
"Liam!" The voice that called his name was engraved on his heart along with the other that always matched it, reminding him with just his name that there were others to whom he owed his time. Shaye could wait; she could look after herself. But his mother ....she would be heartbroken if he walked away from her when she called to him.

Liam turned when he heard the familiar voice of his mother cut through the crowd calling his name, and despite his worries about Shaye, his heart leapt with excitement. A smile tugged at his mouth when he saw her - his first love, his mother, the woman who had devoted herself to raising him, who loved him more than any other. And suddenly, he felt like a boy again, the last year fading from memory when he saw her face. He found tears filling his eyes at the sight of her, realizing just how much he'd missed her, and he opened his arms to catch her in his embrace.

Meara O'Connor wrapped her tall, strong son up in her own arms, embracing him warmly. Years of sharing affection with his father had made her immune to the sharp dig of the bronze plate of armor into her skin, this hug feeling no different to the thousands they had shared during Liam's childhood. "Look at you!" she declared through a bright smile that almost hid how much she had missed her only son. "So tall, and handsome! And to be named officer class in the first year ....I'm so proud of you, dear one."

Liam beamed a loving smile down at his mother, too happy to feel embarrassed at her motherly compliments. It seemed every other recruit there was sharing a similar moment with family and loved ones - all but one. He barely had a chance to acknowledge all these thoughts in his head, when his father was clapping a congratulatory slap against his only son's back.

"Congratulations, lad. We're both proud of you, son." Eoghan O'Connor mirrored the look on his wife's face. "I knew you had it in you."

Liam nodded his head at his father, a strained smile on his face. There were times when he hadn't shared his father's belief in himself. There were times when he wasn't sure this was the path he wanted to take with his life, but over the last year, he'd accepted it, embraced it even, and took pride in his own accomplishments. "I did my best, Father," he admitted, straightening under his father's scrutiny.

"Your best is all we have ever asked of you, son," Eoghan replied, laying a hand against his son's shoulder.

"Your best is always going to surpass everyone else," Meara said firmly. As deep as Eoghan's belief in their son was, hers was unquestioning. As much as she had missed Liam over the past months, she knew he was growing into his potential here, more than he ever could have done at home. Her eyes flickered in the direction Shaye and her father had gone. "Dervla ....she's your friend Shaye, isn't she? You must be very proud of her, too."

Liam's smile faded at the mention of Shaye, reminded of her father's outburst, the disgraceful way he had behaved, bringing dishonor on himself and unwanted attention onto his daughter. "Yes," he admitted quietly, turning his head to search for her again, but knowing somehow that she wouldn't be back. "I wanted you to meet her."

His mother's hand wrapped about his, squeezing gently. "Next time," she promised him quietly. "We can meet her next time."

"Fargil's a disgrace," Eoghan broke in, obviously acquainted with the Sergeant, though not fond of him. "They should have thrown him out years ago. I don't know why they keep him around. If he were part of my unit, I'd have him demoted. He made a mockery of the ceremony."

Eoghan had come in his own dress uniform, the rank of Captain clear to see on his sleeve. He was proud of who he was, what he stood for, and those who'd gone before him. Proud to say he was a Queen's Man and proud that his son was following in his footsteps. He was a soldier's soldier, and it was no secret that, like Makos, he tolerated no nonsense and no disobedience in the ranks.

Liam frowned at his father's assessment. He didn't care what his parents thought of Shaye's father, but he did care what they thought of Shaye. "She's not like him, Father. She's..." He broke off, unsure how to describe her in words that would have meaning with his father, and he found himself looking to his mother for help.

Meara's expression gentled, surprise blooming along with pleasure. Even if Liam couldn't see what his feelings for his friend were becoming, she could. "She's special," she said confidently, squeezing his hand firmly once more. "No one can help who they come from, but to impress you, she must be a very special young woman, indeed." She glanced up at Eoghan, warning her husband with just a look not to pursue this any further.

A smile bloomed on Liam's face in response to his mother's understanding, and he squeezed her hand in return. "She's a good friend," he added, still at a bit of a loss for words, unsure how to explain the workings of a relationship he hardly understood himself. "I'm not sure I would have gotten through this without her," he admitted, seriously.

"Well..." Eoghan started with another warm smile for his son, catching his wife's glance and reading her thoughts without further explanation. "We will have to meet this girl someday soon then."

"But not today," Meara said firmly, taking charge of her menfolk with one arm around each as she smiled. "I would like to meet the man who bullied my little boy into shooting up like a weed in the space of a single year." She turned them both, husband and son, toward Sergeant Makos, who was only too happy to offer his gruff, glowing assessment of Liam's achievements over the past year.

From there, they were swept into a round of congratulations from the other recruits and their families, from the Lord Marshal himself as he made his way through the crowd, from the officers who were beginning to place bets amongst themselves about which of them was going to get their hands on Liam and his friends at the end of their training. Everyone whom Liam could possibly have wanted or even considered might be there shared in the pride of his first ceremonial parade ....all but one. Shaye was nowhere to be seen.

((Many thanks to Liam's player. The aftermath of this scene is in the works.))