Present: 217 Years Post War
The morning dawned cold and overcast. They were awake long before the sun, with few in the family sleeping more than a couple of hours, if at all.
A shuttle from the Normandy rested on the roof to take them to where the procession was to begin. Liara, Daenys, and Irie wore finely tailored dresses of ivory and white…the traditional asari Sending colors of mourning. Mel, in Alliance tradition, wore her dress blues, a band of black tied around her upper arm. Evik was in a suit, Lily cradled in his arms, yawning and snuggled against her father.
Grunt, his boys, and Solus were geared as if for battle. Though the Alliance had offered a military escort for Liara and her family, Solus and Grunt had insisted on taking their place. Shepard was of their clan, and such a duty belonged to Urdnot.
Despite the earliness of the morning and the height of the building, Liara could hear the distant roar of the gathering crowd. Every street of New York would be clogged. Never in the history of human events had so many gathered in the city, and even their numbers were nothing compared to the trillions of eyes elsewhere that would be glued to various newsfeeds, watching events from afar.
Liara felt only distance, numbness. Melara sat beside her as the shuttle lifted on its course, her hand stealing over to grip her mother's gently.
There were no tears. They seemed, for the moment, to have run dry. All of her feelings, as well, seemed to have run dry, leaving her weary, aching, and hollow.
Grunt stood nearby, braced by one hand on a crossbar as the shuttle sailed on its course. As Liara glanced at him, she noticed the chest-piece of his heavy armor. Something was set as decoration into the metal and ceramic, a six-inch sweep of ivory, curved like the blade of a dagger. It took her a moment to realize what it was.
Years ago, when Grunt had still been a boy, Shepard had taken him to Tuchanka to help him with his Rite-marking him as an adult, earning him the respect of his fellow krogan, and inducting him into Clan Urdnot. In the course of the Rite, they had to fight a thresher maw. Del had given Grunt a piece of the maw's tooth that had broken off in her boot.
She lowered her eyes a bit, remembering. That had not been the only maw Shepard had fought, nor the only tooth broken. Shortly after they had met, Liara and Del had, together, taken on a maw whose nest had been made into a trap by Cerberus forces. Del had killed the maw, but a biotic blow from Liara had shattered its tooth. Del had given it to her as a trophy.
For Liara's one hundred and fiftieth birthday, Del had taken that tooth and had it inlaid into the lid of an ornate carved box. It sat now at home, next to the bedside. Normally homed in the study, Liara had moved it shortly following Del's passing. She put a few of Del's old cigars into it, and the first night following the loss of her love, she had curled on the bed and held it, smelling the wood and the scent of tobacco…
She felt Mel's fingers tighten gently in hers. A concerned, gentle whisper followed. "Mama?"
Liara took a shuddering breath, realizing her eyes had blurred. Quickly blinking back the tears, regaining her hard grip on her emotions, she nodded in reassurance.
The shuttle soon lowered. The krogan were the first to step off, Grunt poking his head in a moment later and nodding to Mel. She rose, lightly holding Liara's arm as her mother got to her feet, escorting her off the shuttle.
The hearse carrying the casket waited nearby, as well as the car that they would be riding in. More krogan of the Urdnot clan and nearly a hundred marines- mounted on horses and in full dress- waited to escort them to the cemetery. Standing with them were nearly a dozen unfamiliar asari, and one very familiar face. The sight of it made Liara hesitate in surprise. Reaching out, she took hold of the much older asari's hands as she approached.
"Samara, I was not expecting you."
"To not honor my fallen friend, or to be here when you most need me, would be a grave injustice," she replied. "Your daughter is singing Cantola's Lament, and the Justicars are here to pay their homage to the only other hero in this galaxy to have earned it."
Liara's gaze shifted from Samara to the other asari waiting there. She did not doubt for a moment that these were the other Justicars, and that not a single one of their number was absent. She could not recall any other time in history when all Justicars had ever gathered in one place.
For a moment, she could not speak, lowering her head with emotion. Glancing gently from her to Samara, Mel cleared her throat. She had only seen and spoken to the Justicar Matriarch once before, during a very difficult time in her life.
"We are honored to have the Justicars here, Samara. Thank you."
Still holding Liara's hands, Samara looked at Melara. "I have followed your career, Melara Shepard. I have always seen the ghost of your father behind your eyes. It is a comfort to know that a Shepard still guards this galaxy. I know Del was very proud of you."
Melara nodded faintly, doing her best to contain her emotions. "Thank you."
Irie came over, putting her arm around Liara's shoulders, bowing her head slightly toward Samara. "Madame Justicar. Melara, I will take Mama to the car."
As Irie escorted Liara away, Melara stood all the straighter, clearing her throat again. "I trust she is well?" she asked.
"Well, and thriving. She has an intelligence and grace that few asari possess. She still thinks on you fondly, and wished me to extend her condolences."
"That is very gracious of her," Melara replied. "Thank you."
Samara nodded, glancing past Shepard's youngest toward Daenys, who lingered politely just out of ear shot, waiting for Mel.
"We do not always understand the paths that come before us," Samara said, her eyes moving back to Mel. "Often, they are wrought with pain, and difficulties we do not think we can endure. You are with a heart whose beat compliments your own. Remember fondly, but do not sacrifice that over ghosts of what might have been."
Melara nodded her understanding, then watched as Samara returned to her sisters to prepare for the procession's departure. Dae stepped up to her side, her hand slipping into her love's as they headed for the car where Liara and the others were waiting.
Melara had never forgotten that distant day. Her mother's tear-filled eyes; the way Del held to Liara's hand, her face grim and her jaw tight, always determined to be strong for her family; the tall and incredibly elegant Justicar who came in the door of the hospital. Melara had been twenty then, and it felt her whole life was being torn apart.
Bethayla. That quiet, clever, patient, and infinitely beautiful asari child who Melara had met on her first day at the Junior Academy. Her first friend, quickly becoming her first crush, developing all too soon into her first love. They had seemed from the beginning to be two halves of the same whole, and over time Melara started to secretly believe that she might actually have something as wonderful and perfect as her parents' love for each other.
Then Bethayla had become ill. It wasn't an illness of the body so much as one of the mind. She became moody, distant, frustrated. Always serene and patient she seemed to transform overnight, her previously non-existent temper now hot and quick, her words unpredictable.
Then, the attack.
That was the words that others used to describe it. Melara didn't consider it such. It wasn't an attack so much as an act of desperation, a will that was not her own coming over the adolescent asari.
Bethayla had not appeared for classes that day. Melara was concerned, the feeling only growing when Beth's parents also did not know where their daughter was. Melara had left the Academy to find her, locating her nearly an hour later at the riverside on the edge of the complex. Beth had seemed depressed, melancholy, her manner going from lethargic to agitated and back to lethargic with no prompting. Mel tried to find out what was wrong, attempting to talk her into returning home with her, to finding help. During one of Beth's moments of agitation Melara had grabbed hold of her to stop her pacing, to insist they return.
That's when Beth had kissed her. Neither gentle nor tender as the kisses they'd shared before, this one was hungry, forceful, demanding. Almost the moment their lips met Mel felt an insistent sing of alarm deep in her gut. It was as if some predator had taken over the skin of her closest friend, pinning Melara beneath its claws like prey. She forced Beth back physically, bruising her companion's arms in the process, then snagged her in a biotic field before Beth could recover.
She'd held her there immobile until others were able to arrive. All the while, Bethayla had done nothing but sob and beg for forgiveness.
The diagnoses sounded so foreign, so horrible to Melara's ears. The first person Melara had ever loved, the one who had been there in every happy future she had imagined for herself since the age of ten…and she was Ardat-Yakshi.
Of course, Bethayla had chosen to go to the rebuilt monastery. Samara had been the one to come to bring her to what would be both her home and her prison for the rest of her life. Melara was there with her parents at the hospital when Samara had escorted her out. Beth had seemed so calm and peaceful, far more like her true self.
Mel had been less calm. Bethayla only wept when Melara began to, the injustice of it all tearing the young Shepard apart. How cruel and petty fate had seemed at that moment.
It had taken Mel a very long time to accept what had happened. It was only within the last decade that Mel had found herself able to write to Beth, the two reforming a distant friendship through letters and the occasional holographic call.
Only once she had accepted it and healed, did it seem fate wasn't finished shredding her heart.
It had been during her N7 training that she had met Athena, while on shore leave on Omega. Melara was an N1 at the time. She fit into the Alliance like a hand into a glove, and on her acceptance into the N program she had been high on life, confident, and perhaps a bit cocky as soldiers her age tended to be.
When she spotted the pretty asari at the bar, she did not, of course, know that it was her cousin. Liara herself had not known at that time that Eír had produced a daughter. Once the Battle for Earth was over, Eír had seemed to just vanish into the ether. Given her position as Shadow Broker, Liara would find hints over the decades that her sister was still alive, but Eír knew how to hide. Beyond knowing she was all right, Liara did not want to pressure Eír in any way. When she was ready, if she wanted, Eír would find her.
Athena was almost as far from Bethayla as you could get. Whereas Beth had always been the calm, thoughtful, soft-spoken one, Athena was more like Melara- rowdy, boisterous, and very much into having fun.
Their 'fling' had lasted the week of Mel's shore leave and was almost completely focused on the moment. They never even shared their surnames. They had both seemed to need to cast off their identities, their past, and be nothing but themselves. No expectations, no history, no parents, no responsibilities. Just Mel and Athena…living.
Things had gotten hot and heavy a few times but never had quite crossed the line. That final night, Melara was determined that their goodbye would be something to remember. She hadn't admitted it, even to herself, but she had started to fall for Athena quite hard…and it seemed it was mutual.
It was that hidden past that was, ultimately, their downfall. However much she wanted to forget it, Athena could not change the biology of who she was. She was Eír's daughter, and Eír was not true asari. Perhaps matters would have been different if Eír had fathered her child with another asari instead of being the one to give birth, but sadly that's not what had happened. It would never be known if Gellian had ever planned on Eír reproducing when she was building her, manipulating her genetic structure. Intentional or not, even that mad genius couldn't have predicted how her tailored genes and DNA would react to being randomized in their reproductive process. Like her mother, Athena appeared to be asari…but what she truly was had never really before existed.
That final night, they had finally attempted a true Joining. Neither had ever actually Joined before, not in a romantic sense. What happened was utterly unexpected.
Melara still remembered only an intense sensation of pain and some vague nightmare images before she woke almost three weeks later in an Alliance intensive care unit. She had been found after one of her crewmates- also on leave- had been approached by a very worried, agitated Athena. She told him that Melara had been hurt and where to find her…and then had rushed off into the crowd, disappearing. He'd gone to the room to find Melara locked in massive seizures. She'd been taken by medics back to their ship and when the doctors there were baffled as to her condition, she was sent to one of the top neurobiological departments in a hospital on the Citadel.
Her family were notified, of course, and immediately rushed to her side. Mel was barely clinging to life. In the end, she had to have more than seven surgeries. Her heart, her brain, and her spinal cord all showed signs they had been subjected to an enormous level of dark energy and had sustained cellular damage. The doctors, unable to explain the cause of such injuries, likened them to someone who had been exposed to near-lethal levels of eezo radiation.
When Mel finally regained consciousness, she was disoriented and confused, barely recognizing her own family and unable to answer questions. Another month of careful therapy passed before they found out how she had been injured.
Del's first assumption was that this 'Athena' was Ardat-Yakshi, but the asari doctors assured them that the wounds were not consistent with known Ardat-Yakshi attacks, and that if this had been such, Melara would be in a coffin as opposed to the ICU.
Though she did fully recover from the incident physically, Melara had been understandably put off pursuing any kind of romantic relationship for a very long time. It had taken years of gentle persuasion and the patience of a saint for Daenys to change her mind.
While most asari might be upset and consider it a scandal when their child chose another asari to be their bondmate, Liara had been nothing but relieved. While she held no such prejudices to begin with (she was, after all, a pureblood herself), it came as an enormous comfort that Mel had finally found love with someone as long-lived as she. While Irie would grieve tremendously at the loss of her bondmate to the inevitable, like other asari she would heal and move on to eventually find another love. Were Mel to lose Dae, Liara feared the loss- coupled with what had happened with Beth and Athena- would cause Melara to swear off love for the rest of eternity. Centuries of loneliness were not a fate any parent wanted for their child.
As Melara slid into the car, Dae entering just after her, she looked over at Liara. Her mother was holding Irie's hand, her face devoid of emotion as she gripped tightly to the reins of her grief.
I fear the same that she feared for me, she thought sadly. Her mother was still so young, barely a matron. Would she ever heal enough to find love and happiness again? Melara knew that Del would never want Liara to be sad and alone for the rest of her life, but she could not imagine her mother with anyone else. Del and Liara had loved each other so fiercely. Even to their children, they were not really separate beings. There was no Mama without Bába…it was unimaginable.
But now, here she is. Mama without Bába. The unimaginable has become reality. How is she going to get through this? How are any of us supposed to get through this?
Melara had no answers. Holding tightly to Dae's hand and looking out the window as the cars began to move, she could only hope a hope she did not truly feel.
It didn't start to rain until they were halfway to the cemetery.
The procession was slow going, the cars moving only as fast as those on horseback and on foot could keep pace. Surrounded by clan Urdnot, the hearse and the car bearing Del's family edged forward at what felt like a tortoise crawl. The crowds, kept back by lines of peace officers and marines, shouted and called and wept and waved and flung flowers and confetti until they could hear the tires crunching through the debris.
Ahead of them, leading the procession, were the Fleet Master and Prime Minister's cars and entourages, followed by the mounted infantry. Then came the hearse, and Melara saw a continuous wave of salutes move through the crowd, given by both soldiers and civilians alike, as it passed by.
Flocks of hover-cams almost darkened the skies, and every window she could see was also clogged with people waving or calling. The entire spectacle simply took her breath away.
It was something of a relief to finally reach the cemetery. The general public was not allowed within. Though the ceremony would be televised live, only invitees were cleared to attend. Even with that restriction, hundreds if not thousands were gathered at their destination. A structure covered by a tarp stood thirty feet high, just beyond the enormous open air tent that protected the crowds from the elements.
Just as the last of them stepped under this protected area did the clouds really open up, the few sprinkles strengthening to a respectable deluge that beat loudly on the plastic overhead.
Throughout the entire ceremony, Liara only stood with her left hand in Irie's, her right in Melara's, listening to the drumming sound of the rain. She was grateful that Shepard was not in the casket laying a few feet away. She would have hated every moment of this ceremony…the pomp and circumstance and the endless droning. This was not who she was. She had never been this.
The honor guard, on direction, removed the two flags laying over the casket with well-practiced motions, neatly folding them. One, the Alliance flag, was presented to Liara. She took it numbly, holding to it tightly, barely aware of what it was. The second, the Galactic flag, was given to Irie as Del's eldest. She was solemn but tearful as she accepted it. Speeches were made, eulogies delivered. The Fleet Master spoke. The Prime Minister spoke. Stiffly and with desperately controlled reverence, Melara stepped to the podium and spoke as well. The others' words had blurred into droning but Melara's voice Liara heard.
"Del Shepard was born in this very city, not too far from here," Melara said, looking out at those gathered. "She was born into grief, into poverty, into a misery that not many of us can truly fathom. She was unwanted, a creature of the streets and vents, nothing but another piece of litter blowing unseen and unsung through dirty gutters and in slums. She was not even given the dignity of a name.
"She should have died. She should have gone mad. Instead, she persevered. She was stronger than that.
"Despite all the odds, she taught herself to read. She taught herself to speak English, Galactic, and Chinese. Abused and preyed upon, it would have been all too easy for her to lash out, to take advantage of those weaker than she was, to hurt them as she had been hurt. Instead, she dedicated her life to protecting those who could not protect themselves, to stand always for the weak, for the helpless, and for the lost. She would be their voice when they could not find their own, and their fist when they could not rise and fight for themselves. To do this, she joined the Alliance, receiving top marks and the highest accolades as she advanced swiftly through the ranks. Recognizing her potential, the Alliance elected her for the N program, and through her sheer, unswerving determination, she reached the rank of N7, Special Forces.
"This alone was an incredible achievement for a woman who should not have lived past her first year, if even her first hour. Beating the odds was what Del Shepard did best. Too many did not understand her. Too many judged her, condemned her, and were quick to vilify She was called meat-head. She was called uncontrollable. When she saved the lives of dozens of human slaves, many of whom were horribly abused, starved, and raped children- she was not called hero. Instead, she was called Butcher.
"When she saved the colony of Eden Prime from a geth attack and was named the first human member of the elite Special Tactics and Recon, she was called a liar, and a shill, and a shaved gorilla. When she desperately tried to warn those in power of the true threat that Saren Arterius posed she was called crazy, delusional and confused. Her warnings were unheeded, her claims ignored. Yet she did not give up. She was stronger than that.
"When Saren and his geth forces- lead by the Reaper known as Sovereign- attacked the Citadel she was there...risking her life to save the helpless trapped on the station, to save the very people who had scoffed at her warnings, who had disregarded her as foolish and confused.
"When no one seemed to care about hundreds of thousands of human colonists disappearing, Del Shepard scoured every corner of this galaxy for the Collectors. She refused to give up, refused to quit, using every resource that she had because she would not leave a single sentient being to suffer in their hands. What she endured to halt the Collectors is unbelievable, but she halted them. When she learned that the galactic reaper threat was about to invade she made the extremely hard decision to destroy a relay in the hopes that she could forestall the inevitable, sacrificing hundreds of thousands in order to buy time for trillions to develop defenses. For this, she was called murderer, and traitor. She was held in detention, stripped of her rank and her ship, hobbled and disregarded. Most would have given up. She was stronger than that.
"When the Reapers finally came, Del Shepard rallied every species in this galaxy to win the war. Instead of leaving those who had, for years, questioned her every move to fend for themselves, she came to their rescue. She gave her sweat, her tears, all of her strength and all of her hope. In the end, she very nearly gave her life to destroy their threat, to end their Cycle. They bloodied her, they shot her, they burned her and beat her. They left her broken in a coma for months. She should not have survived, but she did. Because she was stronger than that."
She paused a moment, jaw tense with emotion, her hands gripping the podium to hide their trembling. She knew that very few would ever know the real sacrifices that Shepard had made. Even Melara herself would never really know all of it. Taking a deep breath, she continued.
"People often ask me if it is difficult to be the daughter of Del Shepard. My answer to that is no. The galaxy today is mourning the hero that saved them...I am mourning a hero of a different sort. The one that taught me to be compassionate, and kind. The one that taught me to fight for those weaker than I. I am mourning a hero that held me when I was sick, who soothed me when I was hurting. I am mourning the hero that would hold me on her shoulders, who made me feel as if there was nothing I couldn't do. I am mourning a hero who showed me what love, and courage, and honor was all about. It was never difficult to be my father's daughter. It was an honor and a blessing. I am proud to be Del Shepard's daughter- not because she was a savior, but because she was, simply, Del Shepard. Because of her, I know that no matter what pain or enemy comes my way, I can be stronger."
She cleared her throat roughly, stepping down from the podium and looking at the casket. Standing tall, she saluted. "Farewell, Bába. May you find your peace, until we meet again."
When the time came for Lamentation, Irie turned and gave her folded flag to her mother, bending in and kissing her cheek softly before she went to take her expected place. She had planned on saying a few words before the lament began, but thought abandoned her, and after a long moment's pause, she simply began.
As all asari lamentations, there were no words. Emotions, not ideas, were the point of such tributes. She let herself forget the crowd, forget the world around her, immersing herself in the music and not allowing her voice to waver. After a few moments, she realized she was not singing alone.
Samara, the Justicars, and the other asari gathered in the crowd joined in, the sound swelling as they did so. Melara glanced over at Dae, her eyes swimming with tears, as she began to sing as well.
On the Citadel, on Thessia, in homes and in public gatherings and on worlds and in private places all across the stars, those asari watching the ceremony from the live feeds began to sing as well. The asari Councilor sang. The Priestesses and acolytes of Athame sang. On Omega, from the Afterlife to the seediest little club, scantily clad dancers lowered their heads solemnly and they, too, sang.
Alone in her secured apartment, even Aria T'Loak- glass of pris para in her hand- began to softly hum along.
The raw emotion that filled the air was almost palpable, and when the lament finally died away, tears were streaming down Irie's face. It was only in the moment of silence that followed that she realized the rain had finally stopped.