Rating: R
Characters: Sabriel/Touchstone with mentions of Mogget and Abhorsen.
Summary: She wakes three days after the battle to Touchstone beside her, the warmth of his presence enough that she doesn't even realize the absence of the Charter.
Authors Note: As always, this was written for koalathebear, one of my best muses!
She wakes three days after the battle to Touchstone beside her, the warmth of his presence enough that she doesn't even realize the absence of the Charter.
-
There were endless questions, disbelief and wonderment that followed her to the Ancelstierren hospital, but Sabriel had no answer to satisfy the men from the south. She realizes now that she has no need to please them, not anymore. Her home and her responsibilities lie across the wall and it is there she prepares to return to. Her armor is gone, destroyed by the taint of free magic but she dresses in the robes of her heritage, the bright blue surcoat of her father. She wears his bandolier, the bells of the Abhorsen across her chest.
Already her fingers remember their feel, her mind their names and her heart their sound. Like her sword they are familiar, comforting, but there is a fire in her stomach, the taste of blood in her mouth when she touches the last pouch and feels the gaping emptiness deep inside. Astarael, the sorrowful; the largest bell still lies with her fathers body and the broken charter stones beneath Belisaere. She must return there to reclaim him and her bell, but she will not go alone.
"Come," Touchstone says, fingers warm around her own. "Let us go home."
-
At the wall the men do not cheer when they see her.
They bow together in silent respect while those that can welcome her with the warmth of the charter as the stones of the wall call out to her Welcome Abhorsen. Here she takes her fathers name and the bandolier across her chest is heavy with their expectations, bells stirring with the presence of the wall and the dead around her. Memories of the last time she was here are faint, but Sabriel sees that her fathers pan pipes are already gone, replaced by those of her own making. Beyond the guilt and loss that wells up inside her there is pride, the bright hope of what their success means to the kingdom and her fallen father.
-
They travel by paperwing and the clean, pure whistle of charter marks flow easily through Sabriel as they rise steady and sure into the darkening sky, beyond the clouds and snow. The wind is sharp and cold on her face, the presence of the charter an ever comforting reminder of what has been lost but what is to come as well. The Clayr have spoken of an empire rebuilt, of a new king to sit upon Belisaere and freedom from the grip of death that had held Sabriel's world long before her birth.
Their vision gives her hope and so does the small, silver ring that sits on her right hand, a construct of the charter that swells with Touchstone's presence behind her. It is an old custom, one from long before her time but at the wall they spoke the words of binding together, of a deep abiding love that stretched through the whole of the charter.
-
The house of the Abhorsen should be comforting, welcoming to her but Sabriel's stomach turns with the ritual she must still perform. Behind Touchstone gives her strength as she lingers at the door to her fathers room where the sendlings have laid his body out. She does not know how they brought him here or how they managed to return Astarael to her but she is thankful.
"I must lay him to rest," she says and trembles, a weakness she can not hide from Touchstone.
"Go," he tells her, fingers cool and dry against her cheek but it isn't until she feels the charter marks he's left of her skin dissipate that she enters.
-
Sabriel does not feel the cold press of the River against her legs, only the softness of the paper boat cradled in her hands. It's a small thing, a fragile form in life but here she can see the brilliance of the charter marks across its surface. She doesn't know if the boat will reach her father, if he will understand her message but she must trust in the book and her own skills.
She draws Kibeth and sets the boat on the gentle swell of the grey river as her strong hand lets the bell's tone sound loud and clear. She does not linger to watch the boat disappear beyond the first gate, steady and sure but turns back to life, the bright warmth of the house welcoming her as ice falls away from her stiff limbs. When she looks to the bed, where his body laid before she let the fire of the charter take him she sees Mogget, eyes sharp in the darkness of the room
For a moment he says nothing and Sabriel's almost to the door, eager for the sun and Touchstone when he finally speaks, words whisper soft.
"He would be proud."
-
Sabriel shares dinner with Touchstone in the garden and she lets him kiss her, soft and gentle, unhurried by all they must do. She does not blush when he removes her clothes and presses her into the soft earth. There is pain, sharp against her fading awareness but it passes when Touchstone lays his hands on her, the warmth of his charter spell seeping inside. Careful, careful she hears him whisper to himself, fingers curling around the swell of her hip. She doesn't understand his gentle reverence, the fragility he wants to give her but she is thankful because she has been strong for so long. Too long.
When she cries out, fingers brushing across the brilliance of the charter mark on his forehead she feels a tightness inside her, a building sensation that is swallowed whole by the welcoming warmth of the charter and the strength of his love she feels inside.
-
In the morning Sabriel feels no regret, only the fresh pulse of life inside her, the beat of a small heart. It is faint, months away from any form but it is strong, a vibrant thing the charter has given her. She feels hope, sharp and intense flutter in her chest and as Touchstone kisses her lips; she swallows his words of blessing, of benediction for this child she carries.
She is Abhorsen and he is king, and they have a world to rebuild.