Disclaimer: I do not own anything, no, not the Alvanes, not the Ryan, not even the Castillo. Al things TLJ belong to RT and Funcom (and bless him, if he doesn’t get on fast with the sequel(s) production, he may find his possessions decrease by a few things on his anatomy by a rabid fan-girl)

Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance/General
Summary: pick off after Dreamfall ends. The rebels stage an attack on an Azady airship heading to Sadir to rescue the prisoners. Two of them are Benrime the inn-keeper, and a certain Azadi apostle.

Author Note: This fanfiction is Arcadia centric. Not much information on Stark and its relation/connection with Acardia has been offered, at least not enough for logical hypotheses so I will not touch (much) upon Stark and how its plot connects to that of Arcadia. Also, this is a romance-centric, so there, if you’re allergic to this genre you’d better leave. I won’t listen to inane flames about the pairing or the romance. No, this is solely for my 4-year-neglected hormones.

Long live TLJ, its sequels and future rip-offs.

Prologue: The seer, the seeing.

-o0o-

‘The willings, destiny guides them; the unwillings, destiny drags them.’

Seneca the Younger

-o0o-

Kian was fully awoken to a dimly lit prison cell and the familiar vibrating sound of the airship engines. Four hours had passed, and since he was escorted onto the airship, he had immediately fallen asleep. Kian was exhausted both physically and mentally.

A look out the single tiny side window inform him that the airship was now approaching Marcuria natural boundary line, the west mountain chain separating the North[r]en and the Western region, the Snywan. It was a dark night outside.

Inside the cell cabin, things weren’t much better. The cabin was small, dimly lit with candles and obviously wasn’t built for the purpose of holding prisoners. There were only two cells inside.

Apparently, the soldiers had had another prisoner put into the other cell when Kian was asleep. With the poor lightning inside the cell, he could barely make out the plump figure sitting just 6 feet away from him. Suddenly, the figure move, and a female Marcuria accented voice spoke.

“Nice to have you up, Azadi.”

Kian blinked with bewilderment. He knew that voice. He had heard it in that inn, the Journey Man inn, in Marcuria.

‘She’s the inn-keeper’ His slightly groggy mind supplied.

“Ah, you seem to remember me.”

“Bit of irony, don’t you agree? You arrested me, and now you’re arrested, by your own people.”

He nearly winced at her words, but years of training and disciplining as an Apostle prevented him from doing so. Kian kept his calm façade despite the biting pricks of guilt emerging from his insides. This innocent woman, …civilian…he reminded himself, was being carted off to a foreign land to be judged and punished. And it was because of him. Once again, the apostle was reminded of the Magicals inside the ghetto and of the rebel forces in Marcuria.

“I…apologized for my action against you and your people.” He paused. “I didn’t fully comprehend the situation between your people and mine”

This time, it was Benrime who was stunned. She clearly didn’t remember this kind of attitude in the young Azadi the last time she saw him. For a fleeting moment, she considered the possibility of a foul, a trick against her and the rebels, but she quashed the idea. Benrime simply wasn’t important enough, and torture was always a quicker way to get information from prisoners.

Still, the Azadi’s words surprised her and she wondered if she should accept it.

“Well,…now that is something I don’t see everyday.”

Came the careful and slightly wary reply. It was true after all, a formal apology from an Azadi to a Marcurian obviously wasn’t an every day occurrence.

“But I suppose I can accept it.” She added with a bit of reluctance.

Benrime knew she was old, and even though she was often known amongst her friends for her hawk eyes, all she could make out from the corner of the other cell was the hazy masculine figure half cloaked in shadow. But the Azadi’s voice was honest enough. That, and her intuition seemed to trust him for some reason. And if Benrime couldn’t trust her intuition then there was nothing she could trust. Her being a seer had quite firmly dictated that.

Once again, the old seer and innkeeper concentrated, trying to make out meanings from the maelstrom of signals her inner sight was receiving from the young Azadi. She knew that he was an Apostle, …ex-apostle, under the six empresses, and he was sent here on their direct order. Apparently he was imprisoned for treason from the snatches of conversations amongst the guards that she had managed to catch. But other than that, she knew nothing more.

The airship suddenly rocked violently, the candles flickered and gave for a split moment, and Benrime saw. Her mind immediately came to a skidding halt at the revelation only to pick up again in chaotic confusion and bewilderment.

‘What? What in the name of the balance? Him? How…Him and April? It… it couldn’t be…but’ Her mind stammered, trying to seek answer. ‘…but, could it?’

Her mind wheeled furiously at the mere idea. The old seer had seen many thing, strange things, weird things, once a thousand years phenomenon, yes, but not this, not…

Benrime’s seer eyes however were also viciously biting back.

‘No! Wait! Wait!’

She screamed inwardly, attempting to regain control of her emotions. She needed to stay calm.

The candle light in the cells was dwindling again, barely able to hold up with the constant shaking of the moving airship.

The seer gently questioned her intuition, prodding at her inner sight with years of experience. The idea was simply mind-boggling. But if it worked, she told herself, if it worked, if it was true, then…Perhaps this was what the girl needed. Who knows? Strange things always happened around her after all.

Benrime all of a sudden remembered the sad and lost look surfacing in the eyes of the rebel leader every time she thought no one was looking. It was the look of an abandoned child, craving for attention, for a purpose in her life, yet still trying to reject others, afraid of being too weak.

Could this Azadi…?

Benrime stilled completely as her seer peaked out again, as if hearing her question.

‘What? No, wait! But…Really?’

The old innkeeper could have sworn that was one of the rare moments that she, a seer and in-town matron of the Marcuria rebels, was caught completely off-guard. But it was pleasant caught-off-guard moment. She involuntarily gave a small chuckle.

“My, my! Dear the balance! Now I can safely say that I’ve seen it all.”

Her mind was bubbling with glee and her maternal instinct was all up and ready again.

‘Benrime, old girl!’ She told herself. ‘Looks like you still have some work to do.’

It seemed that the rebels may have something to look up, and out for after all.

-o0o-

Kian stared in amazement at the old woman. Truth be told, he didn’t honestly think that his apology would be accepted so easily, readily, and with humor at that, if her laugh and remarks were anything to go by. He had thought she would be at the very least mildly angry. He did arrest and imprison her after all.

The Azadi shifted his hand nervously.

Or perhaps she was just playing along, vending out sarcastic humor on him since she couldn’t really do anything now.

Kian was barely able to resist the urge to scowl at him-self in disapproval. Since when had he become so inquisitive in trivialities like that? Blessed be the Six, he had a mission. He had to tell his empresses the truth of Marcuria. He reminded himself. These days, these past few weeks, it seemed things had changed drastically for him. His faith was questioned, and his world turned up-side-down. Kian didn’t know what to believe anymore.

He believed in the Goddess. That much would always stay true. But in his new position as a prisoner rather than the apostle, Kian was given a new perspective of another side of the Azadi that he never knew existed. Or perhaps he had always known it, just that he had never had the courage to admit it to himself.

‘The brightest day has the darkest shadows, Kian.’ Garmon, his mentor and friend had told him that just before he left Sadir for Marcuria. Now Kian cursed himself for not taking Garmon’s words to heart.

‘Once this is all over…’ Kian thought‘… I’ll have to apologize to him.’

The silence was settling in awkwardly, but Kian was fine with it. As an apostle, he was never a frequent acquaintance with words, often preferring his trusty sword over unnecessary conversations.

He couldn’t help but marvel at how things had so abruptly changed. Somehow, even though he could barely make out the blurring lines of the transformation, or how and why they happened, the answer came to him almost instinctively as to just where they had all started. Unbidden images of translucent pale skin and piercing blue eyes flashed through his mind but Kian pushed them down.

The apostle did scowl this time, half at himself, half because of the wave of guilt that was assaulting his conscience. Nearly a life-time training under strict discipline, and it did nothing to help him. ‘Focus’, he berated himself. Brooding wouldn’t do anything to help. He had something important to do now. He must come back to Sadir and tell the Six the truth of Marcuria and the rebels.

Kian knew without anyone telling that this would be hard. He was an Azadi at heart. He knew how blindly dedicated the Azadi can be, most of all the Six Empresses. It was an obvious and dangerous flaw of his people that not many people can see, unfortunately. But he would just have to try. He could give her this at least. Hopefully, his Empresses would listen to his words, and this meaningless war would cease.

Suddenly, his train of thoughts was halted by Benrime’s softly spoken question.

“So, what did you do to warrant your stay here? I thought you were pretty high up there in Sadir.”

Kian blinked at the old innkeeper. Should he tell her? The question rang in his head. A part of him was screaming a vicious ‘No’. It was a messy question, one that would entail many clarifications, and no matter whether Kian wanted or not, would one way or another, lead back to the event in the rebel camp. He didn’t want to touch on that now.

But the other side of him was nagging at his conscience. She deserved to know. She was a close friend, and possibly confidante at time of April.

His goddess’s rules dictated that she must be told.

The apostle sighed. This would be difficult. He thought.

“My name is Kian Alvane, and I’m an Apostle of my Goddess.” He introduced himself first as the necessary etiquette rules.

“I was sent to convert…to kill the Scorpion” He knew without needing to see that the other was staring at him. A soft ‘oh’ resounded from the other cell, but at least it didn’t sound a negative one. He continued.

“I’ve been sent to convert many people before. But before this mission, I had never left Sadir.” He paused, uncertain as to how to continue. He was never good with words. Not many apostles were good with words, and those that were, weren’t any use with the sword anyway.

“I… The different life and people…peoples of Marcuria amaze me.”

Kian paused again, wondering carefully if he said the right things. It was hard. By the Goddess, he shouldn’t have agreed to answer. But it was done, and the Azadi could only sigh dejectedly in his head.

“I was… I had, once had a discussion with A…with a woman concerning the Azadi…policy”

“She was very passionate with her ideas.” If Kian had closed his eyes, he could have imagined the image of the strangely dressed woman with a fiery temper standing in front of him. Such a strange encounter. It was the start of everything. It was the first time they met, albeit unknowingly.

“At that time, I could never imagine she was the Scorpion” Or did he? Kian mused. A part of him must have known. A part of him must have recognized the similarity in her hard stare. There was a sharp edge in her blue eyes that told the determination to prove her belief, even if it meant killing others. The depth of her eyes seemed to hide a freezing fury. Somehow, even at that time, a part of him had recognized the famous Scorpion in her.

A sharp intake of breath was heard from the other cell. Benrime had made the connection.

“She made me see a lot of things…that normally I wouldn’t have been able to.”

“I’m grateful” He clarified.

Benrime nodded, instinctively hiding her knowing smile. ‘A lot of people do that.’ She thought.

“When I finally met the Scorpion…April. I…I didn’t want to kill her. I understood that my people did the wrong thing. They wrongly interpreted the will of the Goddess. We imposed our rules upon the Marcurians, against your wishes.”

‘They did more than that’ Benrime thought with a bit of anger at the Azadi but said nothing.

“She told me her name was April.” He said, more to himself than to Benrime, but it was loud enough in the small room that the innkeeper heard it anyway. He didn’t know much about April and it may not mean so much, but somehow, as the rebel leader told him her name, Kian felt like she had just shared with him an utmost secret.

It was the same with him when they first met. He had told her his name. He shouldn’t have, didn’t have to. He was an apostle, a religious assassin. Common sense wouldn’t have told its name amongst the enemy territory, yet he did.

“But the soldiers were there. I couldn’t…Vamon …” The name was practically growled out of his throat. By the Goddess did he swear that Vamon would regret what he had done to him, to ‘her’.

“He killed her, stabbed her with a spear.” ‘No, YOU killed her. You let them kill her, you let her die. You didn’t do anything to prevent that, didn’t you?’ His conscience retaliated viciously.

By then, Kian was too distracted to hear Benrime’s soft startled gasp.

“They imprisoned me for treason”. He concluded automatically, feeling too defeated to continue. His mind was now a whirling mass of anger, guilt and depression.

He would tell the Six the truth, Kian told himself, they would listen and they would understand. He would make them understand, them and his fellow Azadi. He promised himself that.

Kian pretended he didn’t hear a tiny voice whispering that he was a fool if he truly thought they would believe him.


-o0o-

‘Oh, dear me! Now that makes perfect sense.’ Benrime thought as her seer sense nearly crooned in triumph.

‘She even told him her name, did she? Oh, my, my! But, by the balance, I must do something. If I don’t…” The old seer thought to herself. “ If I don’t, I doubt they will go very far. Yes, yes, they won’t get anywhere, especially with April’s stubbornness.’

‘But what to do? What shall I say?’ She observed the Azadi carefully, her mind already conjuring up a dozen ways to approach the situation. Her old eyes couldn’t see much in the dark room, but in these circumstances, her seer sight was more than up for the task.

“Your name…your name, is Kian Alvane.” She said, not a question, but a statement. She had heard much about this name, this person from the guards.

“April told you her name, huh. My, you must have made quite an impression for her to tell you her name like that.” She smiled at the other’s bewildered face. Kian could only nod his affirmation.

“April. That was what she told me” The apostle was showing obvious interest.

“April, why, I met her years ago, she came to me this one night, looking like a lost kitten. She was such a cute little girl. 18, I believe.” Benrime chuckled, her eyes were faraway, immersed in the fond memory.

“She wasn’t the Raven then, but I knew she was special, unique.”

The cell bars around Benrime seemed to dissolve, replaced by the warm atmosphere of the Journeyman inn that strange windy night, when a girl had appeared out of nowhere, in her underwear no less.

Across from her, in the other cell, however, Kian was a wreck. He didn’t think that the old inn[-]keeper was a close friend of April. A comrade, a fellow rebel, a friend …yes. But the old lady seemed closer, much closer than that, and if her words were any truth, they had quite a long history together.

It was getting too personal.

Kian was an apostle, a faceless killer in the hands of the Six. Sharing memories of the mission target with the target’s close friend wasn’t in any place on an apostle’s task list. By the Goddess, he wasn’t prepared for this.

He looked at the old woman and wondered what was in her head right now.

Awkwardly, he spoke.

“I …am sorry.”

“Hm…What for?” Benrime was genuinely surprised.

“I…” He paused and told himself ‘you didn’t do it! You didn’t do it’ but a sharp voice hissed from the back of his mind ‘Yes! Yes, you did! You stabbed her, with a spear’, then it sneered ‘Traitor’

“…my people killed your leader, …April. You must be sad.”

‘What an understatement!’ The voice snorted with disgust.

‘Shut up!’ He retaliated. ‘You’re not welcomed here!’

“I apologized”

Benrime blinked. Was she getting old? She had been surprised, caught of guard, her seer gently reprised, several times in a day. So far, Benrime had never seen an Azadi that was not too arrogant, too proud of their culture for their own good. An Azadi apologizing for something that was done in their Goddess’s name was even…rarer? She racked her brain for the right word. Phenomenon?

‘Well April, looks like you always get the strange one, eh?’

“Well, child,” She began “You may not believe this old woman, but I honestly don’t think April is dead.”

“You see, I’ve known the girl for quite some time now, and as far as I know, April has had quite an eventful life. She has faced dangers that weren’t even told in our wildest tale. If you look carefully, you’ll notice that a lot of the magical peoples hold her as a sort-of figure of legend. And frankly…” Benrime’s eyes twinkled. “ Frankly, she’s just too stubborn to be killed by a random Azadi.”

Kian couldn’t believe that the old woman was grinning. She was grinning!

“No, April won’t die that easily, definitely.”

“If I know her, child, and I assure you that I know quite a fair bit, then she’s on her way here, possibly on this old piece of metal now, hell-bent on releasing me and the other prisoners here.”

Benrime felt her lips stretched into the trademark mysterious smile that was hereditary in her seer blood, April had dubbed it the Mona lisa’s smile’, and silently gave herself a pat on the shoulder.

‘You haven’t lost your touch old girl. You haven’t’

-o0o-

The old seer was, of course, boasting. She was a seer, yes, but that didn’t mean that she could see all and know all. She did think that it was very likely that April was after them now, and her seer sense hadn’t felt the disconnection when someone close to her died, but to say that the rebel leader was in the airship now was indeed a very bold move.

In the normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have done so, but seeing the state the apostle was in, perhaps a bit of cheering wouldn’t be so bad.

If the worse came, she thought, then she wouldn’t have much time to feel guilty anyway.

But Benrime couldn’t have known that she was, in fact, not lying, as the rebel leader in question was actually only 60 feet above the two prisoners, on the third to the top floor of the military airship and vehemently cursing at the lacy, puffy dress in slight beige color that was greatly hindering her movement.

April tugged on the bodice infuriatingly and thought of the conversation that had guaranteed her…, April glared with distaste at the poor dress, …disguise.

“You look too eye-catching for a woman. The Azadi women are expected to wear dresses, not trousers and cape.” Chawan had announced before fishing the dress out from his bag. Seeing the horrified look on her face, he had quickly explained “It was my sister’s”

Of all the ten years she had spent in Arcadia, April had never tried a dress on before. Having grown used to shirt and trousers during the years that she had stayed in Stark, the current fashion for Arcadia females was simply too impractical for her, too hard to move and fight in. It was one of the few things that set her apart from nearly half the population of Arcadia. A dress now, would only make her into one of the ‘helpless ones’. She thought in her mind.

And now she was wearing one.

April walked pass a corridor in quick steps, trying to squash the urge to glare at the Azadi guard staring at her.

‘What manners!’

The sky outside was dark, which was just perfect for the rebel. She wasn’t really supposed to be out here. She had to act quickly.

Inwardly in her mind, April traced the steps of the plan her misfit group of rebel had come up with. It was, surprisingly, not her but Na’ane who had initiated the plan.

In her rage over the swamp attack, worry for Benrime’s fate, and the pain from the wound she had sustained from the Azadi bastards, April had wanted to barge right in Friar’s Keep, rescue Benrime, get out, and kill as many Azadi bastards as possible.

It was Na’ane who dared to speak up against the furious April in her own calm monotonous voice that there was too much at risk, and with the amount of guards and authority the Azadi had in the city, it was unlikely that they would make it out alive, if they make it out at all.

The witch’s word had an instant effect on April. Remembering her duties, the rebel leader had then managed to suppress her own chaotic emotions and tried to calm her mind.

It wasn’t an easy task but in two days they had deduced that attacking anywhere in or near Marcuria would spell suicide to the whole rebel team, and the only chance they had was to sabotage the Azadi airship.

Kara had immediately rejected the idea, saying that it would be insanity to try an attack on an Azadi airship since the one that would host Benrime and the other prisoners to Sadir was the military airship of commander Vamon himself.

April had known this fact prior to the meeting. It was a dangerous mission for the rebels. But so were others. And in her own words, she had pointed out that losing Benrime now would deal a critical blow on the rebel force, whatever small number that was left, and that without her connections in the city, the rebels would be reduced to forest bandits with no way to fetch supplies and would soon die out if not from disease then starvation.

It was not a choice for the elder whether to back off.

In the end, what April got was a “You can go with whoever agrees to go with you.”

It was a low blow and Kara’s last effort at deterring her, and both the elder and April knew it. With the condition of the rebels now, it would be down-right cruelty to ask them for who could refuse the Raven, the one who, in a way of speaking, had saved them from their imminent death in the Swamp.

It was the reason why April had only taken a small groups with her and some of her other connection.

The plan was kept as simple as possible. It was definitely not an out-right attack. The small group that consisted of only a few rebels, including April, were to smuggle themselves onto the airship under the guises of maids and laborers. They would have to lie low and wait until the airship had gotten a fair bit a way from the city so that there would be no chance of reinforcement and spring a sudden distraction on the Azadi.

With a few minor modifications, their small number had now become an advantage in the up-coming bedlam.

April turned a right corner and found herself standing in front of a large gray door with a half-wood, half-metal look to it. It was the store room, two floors up from the temporary cells. She opened the door noiselessly and lines of barrels and sacks greeted her. That and a pale, freckled face with red hair and wide, staring eyes. A familiar monotonous voice whispered right into her ears.

“April-an, in please!” Even after the long time she had worked with the witch, April couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine.

She stepped in quickly as Na’ane closed the door with a soft click. Across from them, Brynn was staring unabashedly with his mouth agape.

April sighed. She didn’t want to deal with this.

“Brynn!” Chawan scolded the redhead in a hushed tone.

“Sorry!” Brynn hissed back apologetically. He didn’t stop staring though.

“Can’t help!” The redhead explained. “Never seen Raven in a dress before.” He added emphatically.”Ever!”

Na’ane simply looked away as if she had expected this whereas Chawan resorted to stamping on the boy’s foot while offering helpfully

“You look good?”

April cursed the moment she had agreed to put on the damn dress. Pulling out three fist-sized metal balls from the many thick folds of the dress, she grunted softly.

“Get to work!”

Throwing the balls to the two males of the group, she dashed into a dark corner of the room and practically ripped the dress off of her. In minutes, April was dressed in her trademark tunic and trousers, only excluding the cape. She had left it with the base as it would only serve as a hindrance.

Behind her back, Chawan and Brynn were fumbling with the wheat sacks.

They worked quietly and efficiently, having gone over the plan numerous times to ensure the chance of success before boarding the airship.

“You have fifteen ticks.” April spoke when the others were finished, gesturing towards the small watch-like pieces of stone strapped on their bare wrists.

“Get it when it grows warm.”

The others nodded solemnly and departed. April lingered behind for a few minutes to check over everything, then she herself left the room with haste.


End Prologue.

About that ‘connection’ that Benrime saw. That did not indicate any possible romantic relation between April and Kian. That would the cliché of all clichés if I did that. Benrime only saw a connection between them. That’s all. Nothing more. She only acted in the hope that the possible new friend might be able to help resolve some of her issues because of his heritage since I think it’s pretty clear that April was self-destructing in Dreamfall.

Many thanks to forrever77 for being this story’s beta-reader.