Ye Faithful

Summary: He has spent fifteen years at her side, has gone wherever she went. Andrew LaFollet loves his Liege Lady and Steadholder enough to grant her the greatest sacrifice he could possibly make. OneShot/Introspection- Andrew LaFollet, first Grayson armsman in the service of Lady Dame Honor Stephanie Alexander-Harrington.

Set: Five years after the birth of Honor's son (after the events transpiring in and after "At All Costs").

Warning: Introspection. Fractured, not much of a plot.

Disclaimer: Standards apply. Quotes: "Shine", Vienna Teng

Colonel Andrew LaFollet, armsman in the service of the Harrington Steadholder's Guard, wasn't a native inhabitant of the Star Empire of Manticore.

His home star system was Yeltsin's Star, 38 light years from the Manticore system and a two-day trip over from the Endicott system. Yeltsin's Star's fifth planet – the only inhabitable one, at the same time – was known to its inhabitants as Grayson. It's atmosphere was rich with heavy metals and poisonous trace elements, it's water was too acidic for the human metabolism to drink without prior neutralization, and the indigenous fauna and flora was completely inedible. The only way to live on the planet was to live under transparent domes whose air ventilation, water purification and greenhouse systems worked day and night and to toil away at earth that was sour and infertile. Grayson's inhabitants were chauvinistic, conservative, religious, and, most of all, patriarchal bone heads, and all of these traits had helped them survive against all odds on a planet whose atmosphere was lethal. To say that stubbornness was one of their more pronounced character feats was like stating the waters of Jason Bay were not quite warm: something like stating the obvious, and vastly understating it, at that. And Colonel Andrew LaFollet wasn't only a Grayson native, but a Grayson armsman. Stubbornness came with his job description.

There was only one thing that mattered to him on the short and on the long run, and that was the absolute safety of his principal. He had long ago learned to be more stubborn that the most stubborn of his retainers, and the fact that he had been Lady Dame Honor Alexander-Harrington's Personal Armsman for fifteen years meant he had learned from the best.

Still, it was difficult to keep up said resolve when a five-year old was looking at you with the eyes of a wounded puppy and all the desperate hurt of a child vibrating in his tightly balled fists.

"But I want to see Daddy!"

Raoul Alfred Alistair Alexander-Harrington had dark blond hair without any strands of silver in it and features that were soft and round. In time, though, they would form the same poignant chin and forehead that characterized Hamish Alexander-Harrington, Earl White Haven. In fact, Raoul looked a lot like his father, except for his eyes that were of a warm, deep brown. Andrew only knew one other person whose soul was written in her eyes this clearly. Sometimes, looking at Raoul hurt in a way Andrew didn't really want to think about and took him back, years and years, to places and times this child never had seen (and hopefully, never in his life, would see). There was innocence in them, more than Andrew had ever seen in those other pair of eyes he knew so well. And right now anger, hurt and stubbornness warred for attention in them, focusing on the one point that, in his mind, was responsible for this situation: on Andrew. Andrew's heart went out to Raoul, but he retained his form. The Grayson armsman had sworn an oath to ensure this child's absolute security and well-being. And Andrew LaFollet took his oaths very, very seriously.

"Your father will arrive soon, My Lord. He screened ahead to let us know he is running late."

"But he promised!" There was a world of hurt in the child's eyes and it was all Andrew could do not to hug him fiercely. Instead, he dropped to one knee in front of the boy and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Patience, Raoul. You know your father will be here to see you as soon as his schedule permits it. Why don't we go to find Katherine, Farragut and the 'cats, and see whether they have a way to pass the time?"

Pulling his tongue between his teeth, the boy swallowed his angry tears, thought hard and finally nodded. "Okay."

The armsman smiled down at his charge. "Okay."

As the commanding officer of the detachment of the Harrington Steadholder's Own in the Alexander-Harrington household on Manticore, Andrew LaFollet was the one every armsman reported to. When his communicator vibrated inobtrusely two hours later, he tapped against his ear piece without taking his eyes off the children and the half dozen of Sphinxian Treecats in the vast, sun-lit room before him.

"Yes?"

"Colonel, Stimson here." Sergeant Tobias Stimson's voice was crisp and business-like. "We're approaching the Bay House."

"Very well. You might want to direct the Earl to the Atrium as soon as Security cleared you."

Grayson armsmen were trained to not let any emotion show in their voices, but Tobias' answer carried a definite edge of humor – and exasperation. Andrew knew the feelings Earl White Haven's personal armsman was fighting from personal experience.

"I will inform the Earl. I doubt we could keep him away from the kids even for a short time anyway. Or that it would be good for our health, if we did try."

"Probably it wouldn't," Andrew agreed with feeling and, for the tiniest part of a second, allowed himself the same affectionate smile he heard in Tobias' voice.

"Daddy!"

Raoul's joyous call was only trumped by his sister's shrill shriek when the door of the Atrium opened and the children caught a glimpse at the person entering. Katherine Allison Miranda Alexander-Harrington had the fair hair and the fragile features of her mother, but her temper obviously was an explosive mixture of both her parents. A few months younger than Raoul, she was as adventurous and as intelligent as him. They were an unstoppable force: Andrew and the detachment of the Steadholder's Own had come to learn this very quickly. But both children were sweet and kind and, despite the fact that they were being spoilt in every way possible, their characters were bright and demure. Not that one would have expected anything less, looking at the children's parents.

A tall man strode through the doors with huge steps, closely trailed by his own personal armsman, and paused one second to take in the situation. Two children, two women, four green-uniformed armsmen and a dozen 'cats were distributed throughout the vast sun room. The children jerked upright at the sound of steps. The armsmen remained vigilant as one of the two women stood to excuse herself, and the second woman turned her anti-grav life support chair to face her husband and father of their children. Hamish Alexander-Harrington, Earl White Haven, had crossed the room in an instant, dropped onto his knees and caught his children with both arms before they could scramble up to greet him. Two pairs of little arms twined around his neck, two voices sang in concert, and the Earl smiled. Pressing soft kisses to both their heads, he swept up Katherine into his arms and took Raoul's hand, leading both children over to where his first wife sat and smiled widely at him in welcome. A silver-white, lean 'cat flowed from his shoulders and into her lap, and she lifted her right hand to quickly caress Samantha's ears. The 'cat didn't stay long and continued on to the haggle of 'cats and kittens who came forward to greet her enthusiastically. Their low, warm purring brightened the already glowing atmosphere in the room even more. Hamish kissed Lady Emily, too, and her one mobile hand came up to rest on his silver hair in a loving, protective gesture. Gently capturing her hand, the Earl touched it to his lips in a decidedly Grayson manner that made her eyes twinkle and then sat down on the bench next to her, settling Katherine in more securely and waiting until Raoul had climbed onto the bench to claim the other side of his father's lap. Andrew felt Sergeant Tobias Stimson settle in where Andrew, Sergeant Jefferson MacClure, Lady Emily Alexander-Harrington's personal armsman, and two other armsmen – one for Katherine, a second one for Raoul – already stood: in hearing range of the small family, but as far away as possible to grant them at least an illusion of privacy.

"And then Hera and Athena found out about it!" Raoul had launched into a story right away. His dark, almond-shaped eyes huge, he glanced up at his father, both hands gesticulating. His sister complemented his story, clinging to their father's arm tightly. Lady Emily was listening intently, her clear eyes content and smiling.

For a second, something stirred within him. This place, these people: it was something Andrew never had had. A family of his own. There was no sadness at the thought, however. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that he would never marry or have children. In a way this was his family, these people, these children and these 'cats, even though one person still wasn't present. This one person who had been, and, in many ways, still was the most important person in Andrew LaFollet's life.

"You know what?" Hamish Alexander-Harrington asked his son and daughter in one of the few breaks between stories, and both children leaned forward eagerly.

"What?" They chorused.

"Your mother will be returning tomorrow."

The suddenly even gentler smile of his was matched by a similar one of Lady Emily's the instant she heard the news. Both children launched into shrieks of delight once more.

"Really? When? Will she be here when we get up? Can we go exploring with Mummy?"

"Yes." Earl White Haven nodded gravely. "She had to meet some very important people today, but she will be here tomorrow. And she will stay for a whole week. She told me to tell you she would take you to see the Bird Cliffs.

Katherine clapped her hands. "Birdies!"

Raoul's eyes were glowing. "Mummy is coming back!"

"Yes, she is," his father told him and mussed his hair. "We'll all be happy to have her back."

"It is just as well you could make it today," Lady Emily Alexander-Harrington's soft voice was teasing, "because some people missed you so much they threw a tantrum, didn't they?"

"They did?" Earl White Haven tapped his children's noses. "And who would that have been?"

Raoul and Katherine, blessedly intelligent child, pretended not to remember anything. They went on in telling stories but over Raoul's head, Andrew felt Hamish Alexander-Harrington's sharp gaze suddenly focus on him. There was a trace of surprise in the Earl's glance. His initial comm message that morning had stated he had been held up at the Admiralty, and that Admiral Alexander-Harrington would only be able to arrive at the Bay House tomorrow. Andrew realized that he had expected Andrew to tell the kids as soon as he received the message. The surprise was quickly followed by understanding, and then by a sudden rush of gratitude.

Andrew focused on the outer perimeters of the garden barely visible through the Atrium windows and told himself not to feel anything.

The sting ships thundered past, roaring, their hulls blinking with refracted sunlight.

Only after an appropriate amount of time, the armored air car that had been accompanied by them settled efficiently onto the ground of the Jason Bay mansion's landing platform. One door opened and closed again as Captain Spencer Hawke swept the surroundings with the professional paranoia of a Grayson armsman. He nodded at Andrew curtly and then turned back to the limousine, and then Lady Dame Honor Harrington, Duchess Harrington and Steadholder, stepped from it with the easy grace that was so much like her.

"Thank you, Spencer," she said as her personal armsman held the car door for her. Nimitz flowed from the car into her arms. Her white beret and black-and-gold uniform, as usual, were immaculate. Andrew felt a by-now familiar stab of emotion.

"Welcome back, My Lady."

"Andrew." Her smile was warm, wide and familiar, and Andrew felt his eyes soften. "It's so good to be home."

"It is good to have you back. Your return has been eagerly awaited."

Honor Alexander-Harrington chuckled and reached out to briefly touch Andrew's shoulder. "Where are they?"

"They were having breakfast in the Atrium when I left, My Lady, but you know them-"

"MUMMY!"

Two missiles darted across the asphalt of the shuttle landing area and cannonballed right into the Steadholder's arms. They were closely, and fractionally more sedately, followed by Hamish Alexander-Harrington and Emily Alexander-Harrington, Miranda LaFollet and five armsmen. These ones, Andrew reflected, were the only missiles he – and Captain Spencer Hawke, Corporal Joshua Atkins and Sergeant Clifford McGraw, of course – would never even try to keep from their Steadholder.

Colonel Andrew LaFollet had had five years of getting used to the fact that he wasn't the Steadholder's personal armsman anymore. Still, standing behind the dinner table at the Jason Bay mansion and looking at his Lady, not at her back, was strange, even five years later.

Andrew really, really loved Raoul, and he'd sworn an oath to protect him. But at times, he couldn't help but resent Spencer Hawke.

"You look tired, Andrew."

Lady Harrington's voice sounded worried, and Andrew LaFollet's reaction was instinctive. "I am fine, My Lady."

The Steadholder chuckled, but it wasn't completely humorous. "I know we've been through worse. But you still look tired."

"Worse? You mean, assassins and professional duelists hired to kill you, or POW camps on planets that are positively more hell-like than even Hell might be? Oh, or did you mean full-out space engagements with enemy star nations?"

This time, Lady Harrington laughed. Andrew liked her laugh: warm and full and with only a trace of the familiar deep, deep sorrow that had accompanied her all those years.

"I missed your humor, Andrew," she said and blinked up at him from her seat at her desk in her office in the sprawling Bay mansion. "I suspect you suggested to Spencer that he could use some free time as long as we were here, haven't you?" Even here, at home and surrounded by her family, she had work to do, and Andrew indeed had used his seniority when it had come to the guard shifts as long as she was there. He wasn't her personal armsman anymore, but he could do some things for her. And Raoul was fast asleep, guarded by two other men.

Lady Harrington leaned back. "I don't mind, mind you. I know Raoul's safety is guaranteed when you are here."

Andrew schooled his features into an expressionless mask. "It seems your son has roughly the same thoughts about full-time security as you harbored in the beginning, My Lady."

"Really?" The Steadholder's eye brows rose into her hairline. "I don't recall running away from you to hide in the cabinets, did I?"

"You had plenty of places to hide, if I may say so, My Lady," Andrew replied and felt a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. "I remember a few occasions…"

"Water under the bridge!" She waved off his arguments, her smile still warm and full. "I did give you quite a hard time. Spencer has to suffer my moods these days, I fear."

"My Lady, we are trained to put up with any mood our Liege Lords come up with. And compared to other people, yours are a walk in the park."

"Oh, very good," she chuckled. "Flatter your Steadholder 101. Nice touch. I see, Spencer, Joshua and Clifford learned from the best."

"They do get close," Andrew said, demurely.

And close only counts in horse shoes, hand grenades and tactical nuclear weapons.

Leaning back, Lady Harrington regarded him with a smile. "What would I have done without you, Andrew?"

The armsman had no answer for that, but he knew the answer to the question had it been posed the other way round.

Countess Emily White Haven, Steadholder Consort Alexander-Harrington, had a beautiful voice. It wasn't surprising, seeing as she had been the Star Kingdom's leading actress for more than three decades before the horrible accident that had forced her to spend the rest of her life in a life support chair. Her voice rang out, clear as a bell, calm and soothing.

"Shine with all the untold, hold the life given unto you. Find a love to unfold."

Tucked into their beds, Raoul and Katherine's breath evened out while their mother – one of their mothers – sang them to sleep softly. The nursery was empty except for the two of them, Lady Emily and Andrew LaFollet. There were more armsmen standing watch outside the door. As underage Heir to the Steading of Harrington, Raoul was even more protected than the Steadholder herself.

"In this broken world we choose."

Lady Emily's voice slowly drifted away.

Silence fell over the nursery, only punctuated by the steady breathing of two infants and their occasional movements rustling the sheets. Andrew rested his eyes on his principal. The almond-shaped eyes were closed, their beautiful brown hidden by long, light lashes. A small smile played around the corner of the child's lips.

"Sweet dreams, my loves." Lady Emily's life support chair whirred quietly as she moved to draw up the blankets to the sleeping children's chin with her one good hand, one after the other, love radiating from her like heat. Andrew had a warm, caring family – in fact, Grayson society often made it difficult for children to grow up anything other than protected and cherished. But the sense of love and warmth in the Steadholder's family seemed to eclipse anything he ever could have imagined. Being part of their household, alone, was enough to make him feel incredibly lucky.

And Raoul…

Andrew knew it wasn't strictly supposed to be that way, but he also knew Lady Harrington approved of it fiercely. Colonel Andrew LaFollet, senior armsman of the Harrington Steadholder's Guard, loved his five-year-old principal with an intensity that could not have been stronger had it been his own son.

In many ways, Raoul was his son.

Following Lady Emily's life support chair from the nursery, Andrew carefully opened and closed the door for her, exchanged a nod with the two armsmen standing in front of the door and followed his Steadholder's sister-wife down the long corridor. The whirring sound of the hover chair and his steps were the only sounds in the darkness that surrounded them.

"Have Hamish and Honor screened, Andrew?" Lady Emily asked when they had reached her rooms. "Any news?"

"No, Mylady," Andrew answered. "They were running late for the meeting with the Queen. They probably got held up at the palace."

The fair-haired lady snorted very unlady-like. "Honor's just here for one week, and she still has to attend meetings in the middle of her days off. And neither she nor Hamish seemed to deem it necessary to screen ahead to tell me they'd be late for dinner. Honestly, if we didn't take care of those details for them they'd never get anything done."

The affection in her voice negated any thought at anger on her part.

"They do seem to try to give their best in letting us do all the thinking for them," Andrew answered and Lady Emily chuckled.

"It's good we have you, Spencer, Tobias, Jeff and all the others, then."

Andrew bowed his head. "Do you need anything right now, Mylady?"

Countess White Haven smiled graciously. "Thank you, Andrew. Please let me know when my irresponsible spouses arrive. I am sure Tabitha already started on a cold dinner for them. If it's not too late, I will join them in the Atrium."

"Of course, Mylady."

"Thank you," Lady Emily Alexander-Harrington said gravely and the door closed behind her. Andrew parked himself against the wall next to it and listened to the idle chatter that flowed over the in-house com frequency. Jefferson McClure would be arriving shortly to take up the guarding of his principal, and then Andrew would be free to… Well, something would occur to him, he guessed.

Maybe he could go, beat up some of the green new armsmen which had just arrived from Grayson.

"My Lady, the air car is waiting."

Watchfully, Colonel Andrew LaFollet glanced around the launch pad. It was close to impossible for any intruders to actually have managed to slip through the perimeter security he had spent the past eight years building around the Jason Bay mansion. It also had been quite some time since the last fanatic assassin had tried to kill the Steadholder… But an armsman would rather die than let inactivity lure him into carelessness, and Andrew was one of the best. From a corner of his eyes, he watched Lady Harrington say good bye to her family. Katherine was sitting on Lady Emily's lap, a kitten rolled up on her small legs, while Raoul was clinging to his father and mother at the same time.

"I'll be back soon," he heard the Steadholder's sweet voice. "I love you, Raoul. Katherine. I love you so much. All of you."

She bent down to hug and kiss her daughter and her senior sister-wife, then stretched out to her husband like a sunflower rising towards the sun. Andrew averted his gaze discreetly and caught Captain Spencer Hawke doing the same.

I wish…

He couldn't completely suppress the thought that always came when he watched her leaving. It was a repetition of the same old game, an instinct ingrained into him so deeply he couldn't separate it from himself anymore. But nothing would change the fact that his Steadholder was leaving, and Andrew was staying behind.

Lady Harrington's steps approached the air car where Andrew stood. He bowed and stooped to open the door for her. Lady Alexander-Harrington stopped, right in front of him, like she always did. Their own small ritual since Raoul's birth.

"Take care of them for me, Andrew."

The Steadholder's eyes bore into him but there was no fire in them, no ice. Only warmth, familiar and beloved.

"I will, My Lady."

It wasn't a reassurance, it was an oath. And Colonel Andrew LaFollet took his oaths seriously. His Steadholder's gaze softened.

"I know you will."

You'll always be my personal armsman. My perfect, wonderful armsman.

Colonel Andrew LaFollet's Steadholder was leaving, and he was staying behind. And, even five years later, he despised the fact.

Maybe some people thought she had simply exchanged him because he had grown old, or because it didn't matter to her who was by her side in order to protect her. Those people were wrong. Andrew understood why she had made him step down, why she had made him swear loyalty to her son instead of keeping him with her until he couldn't anymore. In fact, he had known the real reason for a long time, but maybe he'd never been willing to accept it before. Maybe he just hadn't dared to. He was an armsman, not a part of the Steadholder's family. She couldn't possibly care for him in the same way she cared for her husband and her sister-wife, or for her children. It wasn't rational… But then, he'd seen her do many things that weren't strictly rational. In fact, Andrew LaFollet was fairly sure Honor Alexander-Harrington had been born without an ounce of rationality when it came to the people she loved. He had realized it years ago, because that was the way she was. She had thrown herself in between her friends and enemies as a living shield again and again in order to protect the people she cared for, no matter the consequences, and had done so even for people whom she owed nothing. She would forever fight for them; without compromise, relentlessly. For the good of the ones she treasured, Lady Dame Honor Alexander-Harrington would gladly do whatever it took to keep them safe, even if it cost her her life.

And he was one of those people, too.

My Andrew.

He wasn't by her side anymore, couldn't protect her the way he had done for fifteen years. But she hadn't simply discarded him, exchanged him like one would exchange an old item of clothing. Far from it: she loved him enough to wish for him to be safe and sound, here, where he wasn't by her side but could protect her son in her stead. She loved him enough to give up on his presence in order to keep him alive, even though both of them knew nobody would ever be able to replace him at her side. Andrew LaFollet repaid loyalty with loyalty, and Lady Dame Honor Stephanie Alexander-Harrington, Duchess Harrington and Grayson Steadholder, had earned his loyalty – and his love – many times over.

Captain Spencer Hawke swept the surroundings one last time and climbed into the air car after their Liege Lady. Andrew lifted his gaze to the sky: the sting ships were already cycling above, ready to escort the Steadholder back to Admiralty House. Back to her flag ship and to Eight Fleet, away from Manticore. Voices filled his ear piece as Jason Bay air control cleared the take-off; and the limousine rose from the ground. He caught one last glance at the Steadholder: half a smile, warm, brown eyes, beloved. Andrew LaFollet had been born on Grayson but his home long ago had become the place where the woman in the armored air car was. He had been home at her side and now was in the place she had chosen for him to be in order to protect what she – what they both – loved so dearly. And he loved her, too. He would do anything for her if it would save her and the ones she loved.

In fact, Andrew LaFollet loved his Liege Lady and Steadholder enough to grant her the greatest sacrifice he could possibly make: he would live for her.