A/N: This is sort of a continuation to another Old Kingdom fic I wrote, "It Was Enough." Enjoy!
"I can feel the river around my feet, Sabriel," Touchstone whispered, clutching her hand as he buried his face in her hair.
"Do you want me to go with you?"
Touchstone paused, cupping her cheek in his hand. "No," he whispered, thumb rubbing a tear away. "This is something I have to do on my own. I love you."
"I love you, too, Touchstone. So much," she replied, kissing him fiercely. Sabriel stroked his cheek, telling him how much she loved him as she watched his eyes close for the final time and his breathing come to a stop.
It wasn't until she felt his spirit leave his body that Sabriel buried her face in the crook of his neck and allowed herself to cry, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.
"I-I would have walked you to the Ninth G-gate but I don't know if I could have come back without you."
Sabriel sat in a chair by the fireplace, a mug of mulled wine in her hands as her eyes stared at a point just above the fire. It had been almost a month since Touchstone died and she still found herself pouring two glasses of mulled wine when she wasn't paying attention.
She was floating through her life when she wasn't fighting the Dead, going through the motions to get through each day. Occasionally she'd wander through the palace, looking at her home as if suddenly everything had changed.
If I'm being honest with myself, she thought, I'm terrified; I'm not used to being the only one of us here. You've always been here with me. That's why I abdicated the throne to Ellimere; I was never meant to rule, Touchstone. That was always you. She shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable despite the feeling she would never be comfortable again.
Her entire life in the Old Kingdom was with Touchstone. He was there when Kerrigor was bound, for the restoration of the Kingdom, their children's lives, the binding and re-burial of Orannis, and now he was just gone. Even their bed was foreign now.
Sabriel's closet was filled with reminders of their lives together. One side of her wardrobe was filled with her practical clothing. There was her gethre armor, surcoats decorated with keys, pants, boots. The other half of her wardrobe contained the clothes she'd wear for formal occasions or for quiet moments in the palace with Touchstone; she hadn't worn these clothes since his death.
Her duty as Abhorsen would never be shirked, but what was she supposed to do when the Dead did not demand her attention?
Her children were grown. Ellimere had a Kingdom to run and her own children besides; the older two were little hellions and Sabriel was just grateful the youngest was yet a babe. Sam was working tirelessly to help integrate the Southerlings into the Old Kingdom and strengthen the Wall, as relations with Ancelstierre had essentially ended since the attempt on Sabriel and Touchstone fifteen years prior.
The future stood before Sabriel, terrifying in its freedom.
"What do I do without you?"
Sabriel stood and started walking toward her dresser. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she whirled to face it, reflexes built over decades of fighting the Dead pulling Charter marks of fire to the front of her mind before she was aware – but it was only her reflection.
I didn't realize I look so tired, Sabriel thought as she dropped out of the fighting pose to look more closely at her reflection. Her hands ran through her once jet-black hair and prodded at wrinkles. I normally don't put much stock in my own appearance, but when did this happen? When did my hair get so grey and these wrinkles, how did I not notice them before now?
Light filtered in from above, mottled by the netting and the birds caught in it. When the wind picked up, it caught in the nets and made the ships throughout the sinkhole look like they were sailing.
A small group of people stood before the newest ship, all dressed in mourning blacks. Unlike the ships that surrounded it, this one was not covered in riches. The ship's sails were sails ready to catch a breeze that would never sail in life; oars set to row in a river that did not run through Life and never would even if there were oarsmen.
Sabriel and her family stood at the front of the group of mourners. Lirael and Nicholas stood on one side of Sabriel, the Queen and the Wallmaker on the other with Queen Ellimere's children stood next to her. She was pleasantly surprised by how well behaved the older two were – and suspicious about their motives for such good behavior, although she would have bet the Kingdom that her brother had bribed them.
Behind the royal family stood the Voice of the Nine Day Watch with Sanar and Ryelle, various friends of Touchstone, important courtiers, and a rather large contingency of the Royal Guard.
Sabriel walked towards the figurehead at the front of the ship, memories of the last time she saw a figurehead that looked like Touchstone racing through her mind. The rest of the party did not move, giving the Abhorsen the privacy to be the first of the party to see the figurehead.
As she got closer, Sabriel could see that this figurehead was not uncannily lifelike. It lacked little details such as eyelashes and veins and the myriad of scars that covered Touchstone's hands from years of swordplay; there was no sense of something connecting this figurehead to something waiting in Death.
Although this time, she thought as she lifted one hand to cup a wooden cheek, if I kiss you, you won't wake up. Not that the idea to see what would happen if she did kiss the figurehead did not cross her mind more than once, but she knew that nothing would come of it and her own sense of pride – the way she viewed her role as the Abhorsen – would not allow her such public displays of weakness. She would not even allow herself to cry in front of anyone outside of those closest to her, and even then she tried her best to hold her tears back.
Such care was put into carving this likeness of you. She sighed, knowing that the story of their meeting was not uncommon knowledge; retellings of the story had romanticized it far more than she thought possible. It's likely they carved this with that story in mind, given the detail in the curls of your hair.
The sound of footsteps and then a slender hand on her shoulder; Lirael's silent support had become so familiar in the past months. In a way, she reminded Sabriel of Touchstone. They both offered support in silence if Sabriel did not wish to talk, often through a hand on her shoulder or a hug or sitting nearby in companionable silence. It was a bittersweet reminder now that Touchstone had passed, although that did not mean that Sabriel appreciated the support any less.
Thank you, Sabriel thought as she lifted one hand to gently squeeze Lirael's, remembering the way Lirael had grieved for the Disreputable Dog.
Lirael gently squeezed her shoulder in lieu of words as the rest of the royal family approached the ship. The sisters moved to allow the rest of the party access to the figurehead, although Lirael never removed her hand from Sabriel's shoulder.
Torrigan II and Nimue gave their grandmother quick hugs to either one of her legs, both looked either at their grandmother, their mother, each other, or the ground. Sabriel bent down to wrap her oldest grandchildren in a hug, noticing that they seemed determined to look anywhere but the figurehead.
Sam and Ellimere, her youngest child asleep in her arms, came next. Sabriel was determined to be strong for her children, remembering the pain of losing her own father.
The Voice of the Nine Day Watch came forward next, wrapping Sabriel in a strong embrace and murmuring polite condolences to her cousin. Sanar and Ryelle followed the Voice; twin looks of empathy and grief on their faces as they pulled Sabriel into a tight hug. No words were exchanged between the three, each knowing that words
The various courtiers came next, exchanging condolences with the royal family. Those who knew Touchstone or Sabriel better would more often than not share an important memory with the family. As they walked away from the boat they were escorted out of Holehallow by the various Charter sendings that Sam had created for Touchstone's funeral.
Last came members of the Royal Guard, including a few who had accompanied Sabriel and Touchstone to Corvere fifteen years ago. Safely out of the sight of courtiers and politicians, Sabriel enveloped each guard in a hug when they came forward. All of those present had accompanied her on her duties as Abhorsen and Touchstone on his many travels as King repairing the realm. The older guards had all seen Ellimere and Sameth grow up; several of the younger guards had trained alongside her children for years. In many ways, the Royal Guard was the extended family Sabriel had wished for throughout her childhood. Having them there for the unveiling of Touchstone's ship was comforting in ways she had not expected.
Eventually the remainder of the mourning party left, led by Charter sendings as they wound through a myriad of pathways in the ancient tunnels to the surface.
It had been nine months and three days since Touchstone died.
Sabriel stood at the edge of the camp, looking out at the woods from within a diamond of protection. Lirael sat by the fire stirring the pot that held their supper and their horses grazed nearby. Both the Abhorsen and the Abhorsen-in-waiting were tired; they had been hunting a pair of Mordicants along the coast between Callibe and Nestowe for the better part of a week.
As Mordicants were naturally solitary, as were many of the Dead, the second had come as a surprise to both Sabriel and Lirael – and hinted that there was a necromancer at work, which meant that there was a larger headache hiding from them. Sabriel had had enough of necromancers to last her multiple lifetimes, the worst of them being that fool Hedge. But being sick of dealing with these fools doesn't mean that it isn't my responsibility to keep the Kingdom safe.
Sabriel walked back to the fire and sat down next to her pack before digging through its contents. The first item Sabriel removed was the mosquito-catching mechanical frog Sam had gifted her shortly after Orannis had been bound anew. She whispered the activating Charter mark and the frog took off, flying through the air as its tongue whipped out and captured countless mosquitos. Soon the two women went from slapping at mosquitos constantly to barely noticing they were there.
Next Sabriel pulled a small square of white paper out from the small stack she always carried with her. She had no reason to use it for years – not since she found out she was pregnant with Ellimere – but Sabriel kept them on her because she never knew when they would be needed. More often than not they came in handy for taking down directions or writing down towns where she was needed, rather than their intended purpose.
She stared at it with unfocused eyes, her thoughts drifting through times where her resting moments were not so terrifyingly empty and places that were once her home. Lost in her thoughts, Sabriel was unaware of the way she folded the little square of paper into a boat.
Well, if I want answers this is a good a way to get them as any, she thought as she lifted her sword slightly out of its scabbard before gently running one finger along a sharp edge.
After putting a drop of her blood on the bow of the little paper boat, Sabriel stood.
"Lirael, I'm going into Death," Sabriel announced as she adopted a familiar defensive pose, one hand holding the hilt of her sword and the other resting on the handle of Saraneth. "I'll be back shortly."
"Should I join you?"
When Sabriel shook her head Lirael went back to stirring their dinner. "If you're not back by the time dinner's ready, I'll come get you."
Sabriel nodded before she reached for the barrier between Life and Death and pushed –
When she opened her eyes, she no longer saw the woods and river where they had set up camp. Sabriel was standing knee-deep in a dark river whose tug was stronger than it had been in years. It had been this way for months and, although she had no desire to allow it to pull her along, she could not get its grip to lessen.
Sabriel released her grip on the sword's hilt and took out the little paper boat she had tucked away in her pocket. After unfolding it enough that it would float, Sabriel set it in the river and waited. The muffled roar of the waterfall stopped for a few heartbeats, Sabriel's grip reflexively tightening on her sword and Saraneth's handle as something approached through the mist.
"Hello Mother," Sabriel said, a small smile on her face.
The sending did not respond, although Sabriel expected the silence as the mother-sending could only speak to answer questions. She had called for the sending only a handful of times in her life; when she had her first period, when she needed directions to Abhorsen's house, when she found out she was pregnant with Ellimere, and the first time Ellimere and Sam had gotten sick.
"Mother, it's been nine months since Touchstone died. I'm lost; I still feel as if everything in the world has been moved slightly to the left and everybody has adjusted but me – how am I supposed to handle this?"
"Some things just take time."
Sabriel stood there, remembering the many times Ellimere or Sam had come to her for advice for broken hearts, lost friendships, nightmares of Orannis…
Her mother-sending silently waited, her head tilted slightly to the side. Despite being a sending of some sort, the mother-sending seemed to be far more life-like than any sending should – or could- be.
"Thank you, Mother," she said with a small smile, bowing slightly out of respect before she turned around and walked back into life.
Sabriel did not see the line of people standing along the First Gate, all dressed in dark blue surcoats with embroidered silver keys. Closest to them was a middle-aged man who looked nearly identical to Sabriel. A black and tan dog sat by his side.
Sabriel opened her eyes and sheathed her sword, flakes of ice falling off her body as she moved.
"Lirael, is dinner ready yet?" she asked, a smile on her face as she walked back towards the fire. "Tomorrow we're finding whatever necromancer is causing this and sending them deep into Death."