The Waters We Brave - Ch. 1

Pairing: Gurney Halleck x Original Female Character (Moira Atreides)

Summary: The year is 10,189. House Atreides stands strong as one of the great houses of the known universe. Marchioness Moira Atreides, sister to the great Duke Leto, begins to fear the plots hiding beneath the waves.

Tags: Age Gap (original character is 31 and Gurney is in his early 50's), YEARNING, slow burn, devious political plots, plot heavy, fluff, angst, did I mention we're yearning? Leto and Moira being the sibling duo to end all sibling duos, Jessica and Moira being the girlbosses to end all girlbosses

Warnings: Self harm in the form of picking at skin due to stress

WC: 5044

Author's Note: It's here! This is my first ever fanfic and I'm so excited to be posting this. I hope all you Gurney lovers out there find some enjoyment in this. This is an introductory and VERY plot/character establishment heavy chapter. So if you like this and want me to keep writing this series PLEASE PLEASE let me know. I want to hear all of your thoughts. I promise that if I write future chapters they will be more GurneyxOC heavy, I just loved writting the political intrigue. Much love, Sputnik <3

Excerpt from the Histories of House Atreides:

The Duchess in the Shadows

  We turn now to another member of the House Atreides; the younger sister of the Duke Leto, Lady Moira Atreides. 12 years his junior in age but equal in mind, Moira Atreides was the picture of political prowess alongside her brother. She played such an integral part in his rule that some referred to her as, ‘The Duchess in the Shadows’. 

  Despite not being the direct heir, Lady Moira was raised with all the training a person of high political esteem may need by her and Leto’s father as a powerful asset to his son’s rule. And live up to the expectation she did. 

The Marchioness’ heavy dress whipped in the Caladanian winds as the door of the ship opened into a ramp, the feeling of the breeze a cool salve across her cheek and mind. She turns to look at the Atreides Warmaster, Gurney Halleck, standing slightly behind her left, “Are you not delighted to be home, dear Warmaster?” 

  The man’s face remained set in stone, “Overjoyed, my Lady”

  A laugh escapes her lips, “careful, one day you may slip up and I may be able to tell how you feel without asking,” the woman faces forward once again. The vessel they were onboard let out a final groan as its ramp fully extended. Moira couldn’t help stealing a deep breath of the air of her home world, a crisp welcome that she never failed to love. The few strands of her dark hair that had escaped the intricate updo atop her head tickled the sides of her face. Nothing could quell the joy that filled her heart upon returning home even after her 31 years of life on the planet. 

  The smile it brought her fails to leave her lips as she sees her family there to greet her. Her brother the Duke Leto, her good friend Lady Jessica, and beloved nephew Paul. The boy ran forward as Moira reached Caladans ground and pulled his Aunt into a firm hug. She gives a joking groan and pats his back, “Gods, my boy. As much as I adore your welcomes you cannot continue your greetings like this. When you are a man grown you will knock me off my feet.”

  The boy ignores her tease and pulls back with a smile, “we are happy for your return. And yours as well, Warmaster,” he says looking from his aunt to his tutor. The boy had already passed Moira in height despite being in his mid teens. The two share their pale skin and wavy dark hair, but he gained the greenish-blue eyes of his mother while Leto and Moira shared eyes of a dark brown.

  The Marchioness pats the boy’s back before continuing to walk towards Lady Jessica and Leto, “We are glad to be back. It feels like ages since I was graced with the loveliness of our home,” she holds out her arm to her brother for him to shake, and the man can’t help but let out his own laugh and grab her arm, pulling her into a firm, quick hug, “A month you have been gone, sister. One month too long. The planet has missed you.”

  “Well not just the planet I hope,” she says, sharing a smile with Jessica. 

  The woman gives a pleased look to her friend and takes her hand from Leto’s, “We’ve had a dinner prepared for your arrival. I know you must be exhausted, but it’s nothing a good meal among family won’t fix,” the group of them begin walking into the castle.

  As they walk, Moira catches Gurney starting to split off from the group and halts, “you will be joining us won’t you, sir?”

  He stops in place and turns, meeting the expectant eyes of the Lady Moira, “I did not wish to intrude, my Lady.”

  “Nonsense, Gurney,” she walks forward to him and takes his hand in hers, “you know you are family as much as the rest of us.”

  The man looks down at his rough hand encased in the Lady’s smooth skin, struggling to find the words to reply before Leto pipes up, “Yes we insist, Gurney. You must join us.”

  He clears his throat lightly and nods, “If the Duke and his family wish it.”

  Moira smiles. Ever the professional Gurney was. If Moira had learned anything in her years traveling with him, it was that the man would not seek to make his wishes known unless they could be phrased in a way that would please her or her lord brother.

  “Good. Now go get cleaned up and we will see you in our dining hall,” she gives his hand one last squeeze and Gurney gives her nothing more than a short nod before walking off. Moira turns back to her family, “I shall see you all in an hour.”

Gurney, above all else, was reliable. He was loyal and set in his ways, a feature he prided himself on. When the young Duke Leto Atreides had liberated the man from the Harkonnens in an Atreides raid on Giedi Prime, he vowed his loyalty to the Duke and his family. Thus his new routine was set in place. He proudly served his Duke and his family upon rising to the rank of Warmaster, and happily fell into routine. He tutored the Duke’s young son Paul and trained his soldiers. When the long day was done, he would retire to his room, read his books, and play the Baliset. With all the tumultuous tides his early life had brought, Gurney would have happily spent his eternity in this life, but life hardly let us have what we wanted. 

For the better part of the last two years, Gurney Halleck had found himself accompanying the Marchioness Moira Atreides on cross world and interplanetary diplomatic voyages. Now Lady Moira and Gurney sat at the private dinner table of Duke Leto, Lady Jessica, and the young pup Paul. The brother and sister talked emphatically of the recent excursion and the three others in the room simply sat and ate their dinners silently, they would hardly have been able to get a word in if they’d wanted to. Everyone knew that attempting to pull the siblings' attention from each other after they’d been apart and had so much to discuss was like trying to get a child to look away from a sky full of colorful fireworks.

The Warmaster had hardly noticed that his mind had been so far elsewhere from the table until he heard a lull of silence and looked up to see Lady Moira and the rest of the table looking at him expectantly after Moira had said something he’d failed to hear. Gurney internally chastised himself for not being vigilant in the conversation before asking, “I’m sorry, what was that, my Lady..?”

  Gurney’s flustered state (of course flustering Gurney was as simple as catching him without an immediate phrase or retaliation) was met with a simple smile that twitched at the edges of the Lady’s lips, amusement twinkling in her eyes, “I said the people on Exodeos were quite enthralled with your baliset playing, weren’t they?”

  The Warmaster recovered quickly and stopped himself from mindlessly stabbing at his food to regain some semblance of professionalism despite the fact that he was among family, “Oh, yes they were, my Lady,” there was a pause as Gurney clears his throat and tries to brush off the affectionately teasing comment, “Every time I set it down they begged for one more tune,” Gurney said, trying to regale the talk with a tone of amusement, as much as his monotone voice would allow. 

  Moira laughed and looked back to the other members of her family, “you should all be jealous that I got to hear so much. We all know how difficult it is to get our dear Warmaster to play for us, but I think he simply couldn’t resist the applause.” Everyone chuckles and Gurney can’t help looking back to his food. He wasn’t offended by the Lady’s prodding; not in the slightest. He wasn’t sure the woman could ever offend him. That was what made things so difficult. 

  The dinner was a pleasant one. Too often did Gurney deny himself the enjoyment of a nice meal, usually opting to scarf it down as fast as possible to return to his work. Of course he would never dream of disrespecting his royal family like that and remained seated for the entirety of the meal, listening silently to the conversations of the group.

  When the dinner was done, they all stood. The Duke was the first to excuse himself, and Gurney quickly bowed to excuse himself, but could not begin to move away before Lady Moira stopped him. She turned and said a quick word to Jessica about meeting her in her library for a cup of tea before returning to the Warmaster, “I do hope you take leave for the rest of the evening. We’ve had a long journey, and I do not wish to see you over exert yourself,”

  “It is not overexertion if I find the work pleasing, my Lady,” he replies simply, knowing she will disapprove.

  She just gives him a look and asserts herself, “I mean it. Take the rest of the night off. Your men will last a few more hours without you,” her words are firm, and full of seriousness. But he knows she speaks from a place of concern, and her tone does not lack lightness. 

  He nods and replies, “If you insist, my Lady,” as if he would ever disobey an order from her. 

  Moira’s smile graced her lips once more and she nodded. Letting him go, she turns and walks out of the dining hall. He hardly notices his eyes following her until he turns and meets the eyes of the young Paul Atreides, a slightly mischievous smirk upon his face. Gurney looks at him unamused, “Just because your aunt has dismissed me from duty doesn’t mean she has done the same for you. Back to your studies, young pup,” he clasps the back of the boy’s shoulder before going to his chambers, the boy letting out an immature groan behind him.

Lady Moira’s private library was vast; filled with literature, histories, and journals from planets across the known universe, including her own records of things. A sturdy wooden desk sat proudly in the center, the full shelves lining the walls surrounding it. Two plush chairs sat by a window, turned in towards a small coffee table where the tea cup of the Lady sat steaming.

  The Lady Jessica sat, cradling the warm cup in her slender hands as she watched her friend pace back and forth in front of the looming shelves. One a skilled Bene Gesserit, and the other a fearsome politician, Jessica and Moira shared many a whispered conversation in the cold room under the light of the glowglobe. They had been each other’s closest confidants since Jessica’s arrival as the Duke’s concubine, both in work and friendship. Between the two of them, it was nearly impossible for something to escape the castle unheard or unseen.

  This particular night, Lady Jessica did most of the listening as the Marchioness relayed some of the more minute details of her recent escapade that she had yet to share with the Duke. Things like public opinions on their house and discrete conversations she’d heard. The Lady doesn’t miss as her friend’s shoulder’s grow more and more tense and she picks more harshly at the skin around her nails, as if there’s something building in her; bursting at the seems to be let out but being held back by the twines of self preservation. Jessica takes the liberty of snipping that thread.

  “Something troubles you,” the words are direct, not a question, “You’ve heard something. Or seen it?” Jessica sips the hot liquid and keeps her eyes set on Moira’s avoidant ones.

  Lady Moira lets out a deep sigh, her body deflating but maintaining it’s rigidity, “the waters we brave are rocky, Jessica,” the woman stands behind the chair she would have used if not for the anxiety keeping her on her feet and grips the backrest of it with firm knuckles, “Opinions of the name ‘Atreides’ grow stronger, in many ways.”

  “But you always have stated that the positive dealings far outweigh the negative-”

  “They do and that’s what worries me,” The Marchioness’ dark brows crease as she stares down at her knuckles, her eyes glossed over with thought, “we move further and further from a safe and steady neutral. More people across the known universe have a growing love and support for Leto, but this only means that those who wish to see him fall will rise to meet that demand. Rumors have begun to circulate surrounding me.. Some are saying that I wish to usurp my brother’s throne.”

  Jessica sips her tea with no more urgency before replying to the Lady of the House. She was aware of these rumors that sometimes circled between the common folk who had nothing better to talk about sometimes than unrest within the royal house, but she knew better than anyone that these words weren’t true. 

  “Those that doubt your intentions are looking for theatrics where there are none. The Duke knows you have his best interests at heart. As do I. Leto would never believe these histrionic claims made about the person who has so vehemently supported his reign from the very beginning.”

  Jessica’s eyes are drawn down to her Lady’s hands that burn a raw red around the nail beds, her eyes still not meeting Jessica’s own. “It’s not the rumors themselves that worry me, it’s where I’m finding them. Planets far away that have no prior attachment to the House Atreides and should not have any care for our politics. The eyes I have sent around the galaxy have seen them on planets the Duke has not touched.”

  The cause of Moira’s concern becomes clear and Jessica lowers her teacup to her lap, “They’re being planted. Who would benefit from such whispers? An attempt to turn the people against the Duke or the Duke against you.. Is it a Harkonnen plot?”

  “No no, it’s not the Harkonnens,” Moira moves from her previous spot and begins walking along the sides of the room near the door, listening for unwanted spectators, “They would benefit yes but they’re not the cause. It’s much too subtle of a plan and is being found far outside of their range of jurisdiction…” The Lady’s voice falters into a pause of hesitation and Jessica grips her cup.

  “You suspect someone..?

  Moira’s lips purse in hesitation as she reaches and locks the door before moving to Jessica. The Bene Gesserit mirrors the urgency, setting down her cup and standing to meet the woman’s gaze. Moira holds the Lady’s arm with a steady gentleness and whispers in her ear in a tone just above silence “the Emperor Shaddam.”

  The Lady Jessica snaps her head and meets the dark eyes of the Marchioness for the first time this evening. There is no jest in them; no sense of uncertainty, only fear encased in an iron shell of will. The Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, “you’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be,” Moira takes one of Jessica’s hands and clasps it in her own, “by spreading these rumors he allows a shadow of doubt to befall Leto. To us they seem completely unfounded but to others it could mean a lessening of their faith in him. Their validity and plausibility hardly matter. It’s simply the doubt in Leto’s ability he wishes to sow. But I believe this could all be part of a much bigger plot. Something much more sinister ..”

  Jessica nods as the two women share a knowing look, “we must not fear…”

  A smirk twitches in the corners of Moira’s lips “and we shall not,” she gives Jessica’s hands a light squeeze, “don’t worry yourself with this immediately, and do not mention what I have told you to anyone, not even Leto. I will tell him when the moment arises.. We’ve yet to know how deep these roots have grown and how many seeds have been planted. Being too hasty with things will only deepen the wound. I want you to focus your attention on Paul and his training. You may have set him up to help us in ways we do not yet know. Now, the hour is late. I will retire for the night and I advise you to do the same.”

  The Bene Gesserit nods and soothes away the worry from her sea-glass eyes in a way only a Bene Gesserit could, “anything I come across will be brought to you,” and with that the woman slipped away into the darkness. Perhaps the women’s affinity for the shadows aided in their friendship. Moira knew that it certainly aided in their design.

  As the door shut behind Jessica the Lady Moira allows her shoulder, brittle from the weight of everything on her mind, to crumble. Much of her dignity had lain in her ability to bear the burdens of her profession. She was not so caught up in her upbringing that she allowed herself to ignore the vast pleasures and ease of living she experienced on a daily basis, but the mental price was a hefty one. And she had no one to blame but herself for her involvement in it. 

  Moira collapses into one of the plush chairs, her hands coming up to rub her face in an attempt to push the thoughts from her mind. It was like the stress had made her whole body on edge. Everything felt elevated; from the throbbing weight of her braided hair being amassed on top of her head to the stinging of the torn skin of her fingers. She could hear the chastising of her brother in her head, ‘why do you torment yourself so? I know you do enough of it mentally for the both of us’.

  It’s not until long after the Lady says she was going to head back to her chambers that she finally does so, saying a prayer to the gods that she would find rest easily despite knowing that was a hopeless wish.

Gurney always struggled to find sleep the first night after returning home. He put all his effort into adjusting to the schedules of whatever planet they may go to in order to maintain top performance, mentally and physically. He knew he was in extremely good shape for his age, even better than most men much younger than himself, but that didn’t mean he was ignorant to the extra effort it took to keep it that way. 

  When the second hour with no sleep had passed, he let out a heavy sigh before standing, pulling on a simple outfit and shoes to go take a walk through the castle in an attempt to clear his head and wear himself out

  He was always on high alert when on a voyage with the Marchioness. That level of awareness could be hard to let go of upon returning. Her safety was Gurney’s number one priority the second their vessel left Caladan to the moment they returned. The Lady Moira had gone on diplomatic missions for years before Gurney was officially assigned to accompany her. She’s always been protected, sent with an entourage of guards. It had always been enough for her, especially in her early days as a young politician. People would pay her little mind and she was able to slink between conversations all she liked without much notice.

  Of course it didn’t remain that way. As Leto became more popular, more attention also found its way to his envoy. When Leto heard there had been plots of an attempt on his sister’s life that nearly came to fruition, he spared no time upping her guards. Gurney distinctly remembers the moment, nearly two years ago, when the Duke had called him to his office and commanded that the Warmaster accompany Lady Moira on all future diplomatic missions. The man phrased it as if part of the reason was that it was important his master of war was just as just as tuned in to these foreign relations, but Gurney knew the most vital thing was keeping the Marchioness safe. One thing Gurney was certain of is that if one of the Atreides siblings was taken from the other, only tragedy would befall the one that remained.

  And thus the Warmaster found himself in the company of the Marchioness of Caladan, Moira Atreides. Despite the fact that Gurney Halleck had served as Warmaster to the Atreides house for more moons than he could count at this point, it was only when Leto had officially assigned Gurney to accompany Lady Moira that he actually spent time with the Duke’s illustrious sister. For most of his service, he cared only for war and the protection of the Duke. He didn’t concern himself with politics much in the beginning. His only impression of the Lady was restricted to flashes of her dark hair and intricate gowns in the halls, or when he’d go to meet his Duke and find her there rambling things of great importance that would immediately stop the moment he entered the room. He knew the Duke thought of her highly, more so than almost anyone. That was enough for him to respect her. 

Gurney would be lying if he said he didn’t find her a tad unnerving at first. Sometimes she would come into the training room to watch his training of the soldiers, her face devoid of any discernible emotion about what she saw, simply watching and then leaving without a word. She had an air of inquisition; like nothing said to her was safe from being fully examined and scrutinized. It had led to Gurney attempting to keep all of his interactions with her very brief, like she would somehow know things of him that he himself didn’t know and would sniff out something particularly displeasing that would have him removed from the Duke’s service. He’d seen the very thing happen to advisors who one day had been in very close conversation with the Duke, and the next were expelled due to the exposing of a more devious plot. He wished very deeply to never be on that side of her sharp bladed silver tongue. 

  Luckily, and a tad surprisingly, for him, the Marchioness’ disposition around trusted friends was much different from the air she held herself with professionally. He’d been surprised when, about six months into her service, she’d called him to accompany her. He’d adorned his entire ensemble, ready for whatever the lady might request, only to find out she wished to stroll in the gardens of the planet the royal family they were staying with on that particular journey. Gurney wasn’t sure how, or when, he had gained the good favor of his lady, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

  Part of him felt some shame when he realized he’d expected her to be much colder. He’d only been used to seeing her in stuffy meeting rooms with a back as straight as a needle or in her offices writing furiously within her journals. This first day of leisure when he accompanied her allowed him to realize for the first time after an embarrassing amount of years, that Lady Moira Atreides was a woman who had found herself in her position merely by the chance of the universe. And that that position often left her in solitude far from the comforts of home. Despite the fact that that day in the garden’s he had done nothing but stand by her side and offer his gruff responses to her comments, she had decided that he was to be not just her colleague and guard, but her friend.

  Looking back, he sometimes wished it wasn’t so; wished that he had been meaner despite how difficult it was to be mean to her. Then he would not find himself in her close proximity as often as he did. Then he would not know the feeling of her hand on his as she tries to get his attention. He wouldn’t know the feeling of her soft hair that sunlight soaked into as he moved it out of the way to adjust her necklace upon her request. Gurney found himself wishing he did not know of her softness so that he would not need to deal with its absence. He felt shrouded in shame as he knew his affections had surpassed those appropriate for a Warmaster and his Lady. Even breathing the same air as her felt like a vice.

  Gurney couldn’t find the will to be surprised as the universe taunted him now and laughed in his face. Not even five minutes into his walk and he spots the Lady Moira. She stands alone in one of the vast corridors of Castle Caladan, only lined with windows that look out upon the oceans and cliffs of the planet. Her hair, usually woven up into various braids, now fell loose, like an inky,waving waterfall all the way down her back and to her hips. The Marchioness was shrouded in a thick, intricate robe. She didn’t seem to see the Warmaster, her dark brows furrowed in pensive thought. She always seemed to look that way when she thought nobody was looking; like worry had been etched into her face and the weight of her unsaid thoughts weighed upon her shoulders. 

  He tries to give a slight cough before speaking so as not to startle her too much, “are you unable to sleep, my Lady?”

  Gurney hears the small, sharp intake of her breath as she turns to look at him, visibly relaxing a touch when she sees him, “Oh, Gurney. I apologize, I didn’t see you,” she turns her eyes back to the window, “yes I’ve had trouble finding sleep. Too much on my mind from the journey I suppose..” her words trailed off, like her mind was elsewhere. 

  He nodded in understanding and took only a few steps toward her, “me as well, my Lady. It is always difficult to find our footing again,” she nods and tries to give him a slight smile in reply, but the action is a forced one. The woman hadn’t been able to scrub the look of concern off her features, “If I may be so bold, my Lady, what is it that troubles you..?”

  “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, Gurney.”

  “But if it would ease your mind then-”

  “It’s nothing,” she says firmly, cutting him off. Hardly a few seconds can pass before he sees the regret fill her eyes with the way she had spoken to him. She breathes in and continues, “I am fine, I promise. I thank you for your concern, Warmaster Halleck,” Despite her tone easing, he doesn’t miss the remaining tension in her shoulders, nor the fresh irritated skin of her fingers as she wrings her hands together. But Gurney knows better than to push the matter further and simply nods.

  A silence resonates between them before Gurney speaks again, “may I join you, my Lady?” Even with the torment it will no doubt bring him, he cannot deny himself the blessing of her presence.

  This brings a soft smile to Moira’s face, “you know you needn’t ever request a place by my side, Gurney. You always have it”

  Gurney cannot resist the twitch at the corner of his lips at her reply as he moves closer to her, “I always find it a good practice to ask. I’d never wish to offend you.”

  Moira laughs softly, “I doubt you could ever offend me, Gurney Halleck,” his palms betray him as they grow sweaty, “if anything, I’d be offended that you’d think me so self important that I’d refuse,” a glint of moonlight twinkles in her deep eyes as she looks to him. 

  Her teasing encouraged him to relax. He knew the one thing that the Lady despised was when people neglected to speak freely or joke with her because of her status, “You simply surprise me that you find my company enjoyable, my Lady.”

  “And why wouldn’t I?”

  Gurney couldn’t resist a chuckle at her question, “I am a difficult and stubborn old man. I can be crude in my tongue and set in my ways. Many consider me a rather woeful form of company.”

  She does not deny him, a simple laugh of acknowledgement leaving her which he assumes will be the end of her reply before she tacks on, “but not to me.”

  But not to me

  Gurney can not find a reply as his tongue lays dry in his mouth. He hopes that his decision to leave her words ringing in silence seems like an intentional one, and not an obvious result of her leaving him with no amiable response. 

  Luckily for him, Moira seems content standing in silence for the next few minutes before she pipes up, “I really should go to bed. Thank you for keeping me company, Sir Halleck. Would you be willing to accompany me back to my room?

  Yes. 

  “Should that please you, my Lady.”

  Moira wordlessly links her arm with his like she had many times across many planets as he guides her through the familiar halls of the castle. Gurney finds himself hoping that his rigidity is one of the features his Lady is pleased with about him.

  When they reach the large wooden doors of the Marchioness’ chambers she slips her arm out of his and moves to open her door, but stops to look at the Warmaster, “please do find rest tonight, Sir Halleck. Our world is not one that allows for much of it,” he sees that flash of worry flick in her eyes but he simply nods with a slight bow and bids her goodnight. 

  Gurney cannot rid himself of the feeling of the weight of her arm resting on his own the entire way back to his chambers.

Bound to You Ch. 51: Second Thoughts is posted!

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Excerpt:

Sitting on the couch, Felicity lay against Oliver's chest and snuggled up in his strong embrace. They'd both had a long day at the office and had been looking forward to returning to the loft and enjoying a relaxing evening together. With Tommy out to dinner, they were able to order pizza and pop in a movie. Oliver wanted to watch Top Gun. It didn't matter that much to Felicity; she was merely content to be in his arms.

 She sighed when Oliver's hand started playing with the strands of hair in her ponytail. Every now and then he'd also drop a tender kiss on the top of her head. Felicity was so comfortable that she eventually began to doze off. That was until Oliver's cell phone rang, jolting her awake.

"Sorry," he muttered and leaned forward to grab it off of the coffee table. "It's my mom."

 Felicity immediately tensed. The Queen matriarch still made her nervous. Every encounter they'd ever had had been cold and tense.

"Hey, Mom, what's up?" Oliver greeted. Within seconds, he was alert and moved to stand. "What? Is she okay? Do you need me at the hospital?"

 Felicity moved to pause the movie and stand, too, but Oliver held out his hand to halt her. He motioned to the balcony and went outside to continue his conversation. Felicity huffed in frustration. She didn't care about the movie. She wanted to know what was going on. It must've been Thea in the hospital. That was the only person who would put both Oliver and his mother in a tizzy.

 She stood and started pacing in the living room. If the situation probably wasn't so serious, she might've laughed at the fact that Oliver was doing the same on the balcony as he listened to what Moira had to say. The more time they spent together, Felicity noticed, the more they seemed to mimic each other's mannerisms. Watching Oliver carefully, he didn't look as concerned anymore. His scrunched up brow showed his confusion and maybe even a little exasperation.

 Now what was Moira telling him?

 Felicity swore she was about to wear a hole into the floor when Oliver finally got off of the phone. She immediately joined him on the balcony. "What's going on? Is Thea okay?"

"How did you know?"

"It's not that hard to put the pieces together."

Tradewinds 20 CH 15

Inside the perimeter, there were still a share of abandoned houses, at least at first, but as they continued, the homes showed more signs of habitation. They soon noticed faces staring out at them from mostly curtained windows. Watching them with a mixture of awe and apprehension, given the direction they just came from. Turning to look at any of them mostly resulted in those faces vanishing in a blink, or a flicker of curtain. Jarvis led them out near the harbor, where curious onlookers tried not to look like they were gawking, even while keeping a respectful distance. “There’s been talk for years of tearin’ down that bridge,” he told them, “but after the wall went up, no one cared to go out there no more.” “I can’t imagine why…” Justin muttered. Along the way, they saw for themselves a measure of the toll the Woods had taken on their community, and Jarvis mentioned some more. Of missing livestock, missing pets, missing children, occasionally even missing adults, before the walls were finished. In the early years, that even included a few drunken wagers, and later on, foolhardy travelers and would-be adventurers. By now, most wise and experienced wanderers knew to take heed and leave well enough alone, just from the locals’ own avoidance, that this was no idle tourist prank. “Heaven knows,” Jarvis rambled, “we have enough real trouble out there, to go makin’ any up…” At last, they arrived at an inn called Pines Lodge, where he brought them inside. The place itself appeared welcoming enough, its bar most likely a local watering hole, its handful of rooms accommodating the occasional traveler. Enough tables and chairs to function as a small restaurant, with batwing doors connecting to a proportionately sized kitchen. “Moira!” Jarvis called, and an older woman at the bar looked up from the mugs she was cleaning. “You have guests.” “Jarvis.” She looked up from her work for a moment to take in these three outlanders, noting their dirty, disheveled looks. “Since when did you ever keep the company of strangers? You’re not seafarers, are you?” “It’s as you think,” Jarvis told her. “In fact, they came all the way up from Camp Stilton.” Moira fumbled and nearly dropped the ceramic mug, gasping at that name, looking at them in a whole new light. “Is this true?” she asked them, her voice shifting from wry and world-weary to alarmed and intense as they walked up to the bar. The three of them certainly looked— and smelled— as if they had been out in the wilderness rather than on the high seas. “Yes,” Max answered, his friends nodding in solemn agreement. “And we have two friends who are still stranded out there.” “How long?” “Five days.” “Surely they’re dead by now…” Moira turned away from them, visibly uncomfortable making such a grim pronouncement to strangers. “With all due respect,” Shades pointed out, “I would like to remind you that we’re still alive.” “No thanks to those damn Woods!” Justin added. “What the hell is the deal with that place?” “Well, it’s not something we like to talk about anymore,” she told them, back still turned, “especially with outlanders…” “I daresay we’ve earned some answers, don’t you think?” Max intoned. “You’re right,” Moira sighed, turning back to them, “but I suppose I should start with some manners. I’m Moira Stilton. My late husband used to run the camp. That’s why Jarvis brought you here first.” And here I thought there might be some hospitality in him somewhere… Shades thought. Moira looked around as if to make sure there was no one on hand to object, then continued: “For many years, this town was run by a powerful family, the Rigbys. They built a mansion on the far side of Pickford. Vineholdt.” “Caretaker…” Shades mused, “Is that what Jarvis meant?” “Yes,” Moira admitted, “that’s why he looks after the grounds and such, much as he used to when he worked for them. The last head of the Rigby family was always said to have studied dangerous and forbidden knowledge, and about ten years ago, something she did one night went horribly wrong. Since that night, the Woods have been a deathtrap, and that estate has been haunted ever since. No one has seen hide nor hair of anyone who was there at the time, and the younger folks have taken to calling it the Castle.” “Strange…” Max remarked, guessing from the look on Shades’ face that he shared his relief at no mention of Camcron. That a dimensional anomaly of this magnitude would surely have the Institute’s name written all over it. “My husband and I put a lot of work into rebuilding and organizing that camp after the logging operation shut down out there,” Moira explained. “It was supposed to be a place for the children of Pickford to enjoy, like the camps we’d heard of in other lands. After that night, we ended up abandoning everyplace out on the peninsula, including Camp Stilton, when people started to go missing…” “Like Kelly Edwards?” Shades asked, seeing her eyes widen noticeably at that name. “You saw the poster?” “That’s not all we saw,” Shades replied, shrugging off his backpack and setting it on the nearest table, remembering what else he brought all this way. “Kelly?” a woman’s voice demanded from the front door. “Did you see our daughter?” An older couple strode in, both looking aged beyond their years with grief. Anxiety, dread, and even a hint of hope competing for their dominant facial expression. Jarvis hovering right behind them, near the door. In the course of their intense conversation with Moira, none of them could even recall seeing him leave. “Shelby and Lorna Edwards,” Jarvis introduced them, then stepped back. “Kelly’s parents.” “Please don’t get your hopes up,” Shades cautioned them as he opened his pack and unwrapped the skull. “While we were out there, less than a day from Camp Stilton, we found the remains…” choking up in spite of himself, “the remains of a child…” Shelby gasped, but Lorna objected, “How? How do we know if it’s her?” “I also found this…” Shades reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and fished out the gemstone earring, half surprised it was still in there after all that, and handed it to her. Lorna only looked at it for a moment before she broke down, long-dammed floodgates opening as she slumped in the nearest seat, and her husband leaned over to comfort her, one lone tear rolling down his somber face as he put his arm around her. Shades bowed his head and Max followed suit, while Justin tried to look around at nothing in particular. “We gave those to her for a ninth birthday present, just a few days before she went to camp…” Shelby stammered. Though already slightly stooped with the weight of years and loss, he seemed to slump just a little more at this final revelation. “She couldn’t wait to show them to all her friends…” “Somebody found her…” Lorna sobbed. “After all these years…” For his part, Jarvis simply grunted, bowed his head, and ducked out the door. “Little Kelly was the first to disappear,” Moira told them, her face as ashen as either of the girl’s parents. “Then the search party…” “It was the Evil in the Woods that got her,” Shades said, deciding it was better not to mention the roots, “of that I’m certain.” All three of them tried to conceal their relief that no one asked them to elaborate. “We couldn’t just leave her out there…” Max began, then remembered what else they came here for. “We also came here for our friends, who are still stuck out at Camp Stilton. This was all we could do for your daughter, but there is still hope for the living.” “Five days?” Moira piped up. “Surely you can’t be serious…” “We survived,” Justin countered, “and they have a ship to take shelter in.” “For all the good that would do ’em,” Shelby muttered. “No one from the original search party was ever heard from again. Trying to rescue anyone from those Woods is suicide…” “Roger Wilco saved our lives, getting us ashore in that storm,” Shades explained. “That’s a rather poor way to return the favor, don’t you think?” “Surely they’re all dead.” There was no mistaking the terror in Shelby’s eyes. “You should be grateful for your lives, and the chance to continue on your way.” “Bandit’s my oldest friend,” Max declared, surprising even himself with his own determination after all the horrors they endured. “I’m not going anywhere without going back for him first.” “But no one’s been out there for years…” “They brought back our Kelly,” Lorna told her husband, her long-denied grief hardening into a stony resolve. “How could we ever face her, if we do any less for them?” “You don’t even have to go,” Max offered. “All we need are enough supplies to go around the peninsula, and any old boat you might be willing to part with. We don’t have much money, but…” “Even the peninsula isn’t safe,” Shelby warned them, but his tone sounded more resigned than anything. Even as he spoke, he stood up a little taller. “Your money’s no good with us. You brought back Kelly’s remains, and that’s more than anyone could’ve hoped for. We owe you something for that, and if this is what she wants…” Lorna nodded. “Then you’ll help us?” Justin pressed. “Yes, but not this late,” Shelby cautioned them. “It’ll be sunset soon, and it’s far too dangerous sailing the peninsula after dark. We’ll set out at first light tomorrow. I just hope this isn’t all for nothing…” “I’m coming too,” Lorna added. “There’s enough room aboard the Shorewind for all of us.” “But you don’t even like sailing,” Shelby balked, “you always get seasick…” “We have to see this through,” Lorna insisted. “Please,” Shelby pleaded. “Stay here. With… Kelly. I promise I’ll come back, and we will bury her together…” “I’ll hold you to that.” She then turned to the three of them. “When this is all over, you are also welcome to attend.” “It’s the least we could do,” Max nodded. “In the meantime,” Moira stepped in, “you’re welcome to stay the night here. My husband, Ethan, was the leader of the search party, and I feel he would want it this way. You’ll be safe enough here in Pickford. Sister Clarice still maintains the old wardings around town…” “We thank you for your hospitality,” Max told her, all three nodding in heartfelt accord. “First thing’s first,” Moira resumed, “you boys should go wash up while we prepare dinner.” “Good idea,” Shades mumbled. After the better part of a week in the Woods, and being cooped up on a plane for a couple days before that, they all naturally smelled of an overabundance of testosterone, and a shortage of deodorant. A hot shower did much, both to wash away sweat and grime, as well as to sooth sore muscles and stiff joints. Moira provided some spare robes she scrounged up from the storeroom, and Lorna offered to wash their clothes that night. Though every bit as polite and gracious as the Royal Treatment warranted, each of them held on to at least one holdout weapon, just in case things were not as they seemed in the quaint little town of Pickford. By the time they had all washed up, dinner was ready. From the array of dishes and cookware on display, they gathered that Pines Lodge was most likely frequented by locals, and the occasional seafarer on shore leave. For the next couple days, that was all about to change. That was not to say that they didn’t have their share of visitors throughout the evening. Most of them a touch quiet and subdued, each with some trivial pretense for catching a glimpse of the first people to survive the Woods in years. Years of eldritch encroachment had shrunk Pickford into a rather small town, and even the local sheriff, Willard Duhan, who happened to be taking a shift at the gate, just like his deputies and local volunteers, dropped by to ask a few questions. Reminding Shades of a very important matter. “For the sake of disclosure,” he brought up, concluding that these folks really did have a right to know, “we originally ended up here in pursuit of an outlaw named Erix.” The lawman nodded, having apparently heard the name before, even if most folks in these parts had not. “There was a bounty hunter with us, as well. But the last time we saw Roxy, she was chasing him out toward someplace called Rannigan’s Wharf…” “Then you’ve surely seen the last of them,” Sheriff Duhan told them, and Shelby shuddered. “By any chance,” Max chimed in, figuring it was safe enough to ask at this point, “have any of you ever heard of anyplace called Deltania? Or Cyexia, perhaps?” Heads shaking all around. “Not anywhere in these parts,” Moira told them. “This whole land used to be called Sinovia, but I’m not sure how it is on the rest of the coast anymore…” “The Commonwealth…” Shelby added, “isn’t what it used to be.” “Wherever did you hear such odd names?” Lorna asked. “On the radio,” Shades shrugged, not wanting to bring the Black Angels into all of this, “back when we first arrived.” “You shouldn’t trust anything you hear on the radio out there,” Shelby advised them. “It’s all wrong, every bit of it…” “You’re tellin’ us!” Justin laughed. And so the discussion changed to less morbid topics. Much to their relief, no one at the table wanted to hear about the Woods, likely having already seen and heard more than they ever cared to, so the three of them provided tidbits of what was happening in other realms they’d passed through. It helped take the edge off the awkwardness of dining with hosts who had lost so much to the place they just survived. That night they dined on a hearty stew of fish and veggies, fresh-baked bread, and crab rolls for dessert. Washed down with warm tea and cold cider. A blissful blur of down-home cooking, and a panacea for dwindling packs of provisions and days of deprivation. But also no small helping of guilt, wondering how much food Roger and Bandit might have left back at the plane wreck. Or if Roxy had found anything at all to eat, wherever she was. Even for the likes of Erix, exposure and starvation seemed a terrible fate, with the memory of their own gnawing hunger still so fresh in their minds. In spite of tomorrow’s grim and uncertain prospects, they thanked their hosts graciously before retiring. Though it was the first time any of them had slept in a proper bed since their last night aboard the Excelsior back in Anchor Point over a week ago, sleep would not come easy, in spite of their bone-weary exhaustion. Max worrying about Bandit. Justin, that the town and everything in it was just a delusion or ruse of some sort, too good to be true. Shades, worse still, that they might all be the victims of some lotus-eating trap, a creepy thought that even crept into his dreams.