Before you start reading!
This was set in the AU Michael Buckley wrote into the fifth book, where Ferryport Landing was a warzone. But it's before 12-year old Sabrina met 26-year old Sabrina. It's set earlier, but in the same universe.
Carry on.
Sabrina pushed away the report, rubbing her forehead. Another attack, this time on Old McDonald's farmland. There were too many of the Hand, and too few of their own forces to keep up with this. Something would have to give, and after that, something else, until it all toppled down around them and they were defeated.
The twenty-four-year-old general grimaced at her own prediction, and sighed. There was no telling how dependable the prediction was to begin with. No one had thought they'd last this long, not even Charming. He had blustered and rallied, but Sabrina could see through it. He had thought that they were all going to die, bloody and unmourned, for a cause that few were foolish enough to believe in. But more had joined the fight, and more still had sent support in the form of food and weapons.
They had survived for twelve years against all predictions. Twelve long years… Ten more than anyone thought possible.
She stood and stretched, glancing at her watch. The battery had long-ago died, and now it ran on enchantment. Magic so simple, even she didn't feel so much as a prickle, despite wearing it every day. Nine at night. She could keep working. She should. Heaven knew she had enough to do to keep her busy for the next thousand years.
There was a faint thud against the wooden door. "You better be holding coffee, mister." She muttered, drawing her dagger and going to open the door. Puck stood there, tray with two mugs on it, a percolator set between them.
"I come bearing caffeine, Grimm." He grinned openly at her, teeth shining in the moonlight.
"Well, hurry up then." Sabrina smiled back, opening the door further to let the fairy in. He balanced the tray on a stack of World War II tactic books, before pouring the coffee into the mugs. He handed her one, and shoved some papers out of the way, settling himself on the desk while she sat in the chair.
"Still working?" He asked.
"No, I'm dancing a jig." She rolled her eyes before leaning over to peck him on the cheek. "Someone has to, you know."
"Dance a jig? I'm pretty sure no one has to do that."
"Oh, shut up and let me drink my coffee."
"Wasn't stopping you."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping from the chipped mugs. Supplies were running low again, and no one knew how much longer it would be until the next shipment. Everything would have to be rationed out.
"Daphne says hi." Puck interrupted Sabrina's thoughts. "And she wants to know when you're coming up for air."
Sabrina didn't reply. She loved her little sister, but there were more important things to do than gossip together.
"She misses you, you know." Puck continued.
"I know." She sighed, tucking her legs up underneath her. "And I miss her, too. But we have to work."
"You could spend time together, working." He shrugged, refilling her cup. "You could go one patrol together or something."
"We do!"
"Yeah, with a group of soldiers. I think she'd like to have to all to herself for a few minutes."
Sabrina sighed. "When did you become a relationship counselor?" She grumbled.
"Just about the day I met you."
They lapsed into silence again.
"I have a question for you." Puck said suddenly.
"Shoot."
"Do you-" He cleared his throat and started again. "Do you think that having a party for something would raise morale?"
Sabrina raised an eyebrow at him. He looked steadily back at her. "I suppose it would re-energize our troops." She admitted. "But what would we even celebrate? I mean, it's rude to celebrate only one person's birthday or anniversary, and Christmas was three weeks ago." Neither one of the mentioned that Christmas had been spent, wet and miserable, attempting to erect a new enclosure around the camp.
"I was thinking more like a wedding." He admitted.
"Oh? Who's getting married?"
"Hopefully, us." He reached into his pocket and tossed her a small wooden box.
"Did you just propose to me?" Sabrina gaped.
"Yeah, yeah. Open the box. That's what you're supposed to do, right?" Puck was suddenly nervous. It wasn't like he really knew how this worked. And when he had asked Charming (who had, after all, proposed to six different women, and married them.) the prince had simply clapped him on the shoulder and wished him luck.
Sabrina blinked at him, still shell-shocked, and then fumbled the box open. Two gold rings, etched with tiny vines and leaves, lay nestled into thick leather.
"They were your grandparents." Puck felt a sudden rush to explain. "I resized them, and engraved-"
"Shut up." A tiny whisper interrupted him.
Oh. Oh. Then she didn't-
"They're beautiful." She looked up at him, eyes shining as she fingered the smaller band.
"Is that a yes?" The fairy croaked.
"Yes, you idiot, it's a yes!" She beamed at him, and grabbed his left hand, pushing the larger ring onto his finger, then slid on her own.
He leaned over, letting the mugs fall to the floor as he kissed her. She smiled against his mouth, fisting his jacket as she pulled him closer.
There was still a war, and tomorrow, there would be more patrols, and attacks, and worrying. But for the first time in months, Sabrina felt a flicker of hope.