I’m going to make a niche question! 😄 for Saker, please!
Ooooh, I love Saker!
As for what makes him smile…I think honestly he likes a good fight. Not necessarily to the death or anything, but like sparring or play fighting or training, stuff like that.
Saker respects strength, and he’s a physical person, so yeah, I think a good fight would make him smile.
It wasn’t often that Logan joined the others in the dining hall for meals. He knew that his presence was unwanted, that all but Page had demanded his death, and the pointed glares and scathing remarks were more than enough to put him off his food. So more often than not, he took his meals in his room and made an effort to stay out of the way of the rest of the council whenever possible. It just made life that little bit more tolerable for all of them.
Well, not quite everyone obviously.
On this particular evening, Lorna had insisted that Logan join the rest of them for dinner and she'd refused to take no for an answer. And when he’d arrived, having finally relented and agreed for her sake, it was clear that she’d had a word with the others.
He was keenly aware that Lorna’s friends and advisors were determinedly not looking at him and were taking great pains to avoid addressing or mentioning him. Instead they talked amongst themselves, discussing the day’s work or regaling one another with stories of their adventures as they indulged in a fine wine imported from Samarkand.
Judging by the flush of Sabine’s cheeks and the way he jumped up onto his chair with his staff raised aloft, the Dweller had gone a little beyond a small indulgence.
“And then, with thunderous cries that shook the heavens themselves, we brought down our axes on the troll’s monstrous head! Its mantle split, its blood spilt forth, and we Dwellers rid ourselves and our land of its insidious poisons!” he declared with a surprising boom. For such a small man, he had a very impressive set of lungs.
And a very impressive talent for embellishment, Logan thought to himself, considering that the victory hadn’t been the work of the Dwellers alone. But he said nothing and tried to focus on his food. He’d let the old man have his stories and glory. There was no need for him to bring any attention to himself.
“I remember that story a little differently,” Lorna chuckled, as if she’d read his mind. At least she kept her voice low and between herself and Logan. “I thought it was your hammer that split the troll’s head open, and that the Dwellers’ axes were busy with its nerve tendrils.”
Logan shrugged indifferently.
“I don’t see that it makes a difference. Sabine is welcome to tell his stories as he wishes.”
He was aware that her gaze lingered on him a moment before turning back to the conversation further down the table. The big Dweller - Boulder - was busy guiding the tipsy Sabine back into his seat just as Ben Finn leapt into his own tale.
“So one minute Private Jammy and I are walking our daring Rebel Princess through the use of the mortar. The next, a legion of Hollowmen are erupting from the ground, ready to charge the gates-!”
“Avo’s sake, Ben, give it a rest,” Page huffed. “No one cares whether you managed to kill three hollowmen with one shot or not.”
“But it really did happen!” he protested, his brows knitting together. Then he pointed an accusing finger at her and said, “you just don’t believe it because you didn’t even believe in hollowmen until you went to Reaver’s little Masquerade party, and now you don’t want to admit that I’m telling the truth!”
“I don’t believe it because you were probably too busy nattering at them to actually do any shooting.”
Logan observed the bickering pair briefly - he took faint amusement at the indignant look of offense on Ben’s face - then turned back to his sister, who was watching the small spectacle unfold with a small smile that was somewhat unreadable.
She’d aged since that day in the throne room. She’d lost some of the softness that rounded her cheeks, and while her eyes weren’t quite hardened, they’d lost their innocent glimmer. She’d also sprouted upwards a few inches, leaving her just shy of his own height. But what drew his attention were the scars on her face.
Suddenly, as if he was possessed by some old repressed childish instinct, he reached over and flicked her in the nose.
Lorna squeaked - actually squeaked - in surprise, swatted his hand away and stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.
Heads swivelled in their direction. Ben and Page’s spirited debate was abruptly cut off and Saker was halfway out of his seat before Lieutenant Attaway’s hand gripped his forearm and a pointed look sent him sinking back down apprehensively.
Logan felt his face heat up at the sudden scrutiny.
What in the Light’s name had possessed him to do that? He briefly entertained the notion of trying to will himself to fade from sight or to sink through his chair into the floor, but as ever, he remained in full view and firmly in his seat. So he tried to act as though he’d not just reached out and flicked his sister, the Queen, in the face like a child might.
Sabine and Kalin just watched with mild interest, and Walter stared for a moment, then chortled.
“No pestering each other at the table,” he said, as if they were still small children and in need of reminding, before he turned away. “I hear that Page’s people were able to track down your missing shipments, Kalin.”
“Hm? Oh yes. The young man, Kidd I believe? Was able to locate the thieves and reclaim them for us,” she replied, catching on quickly and inclining her head towards Page. “It would please me if he were to receive my most heartfelt thanks.”
Page affirmed that she’d pass on the message, and the conversation resumed, though Walter gave the siblings one last heartfelt grin before turning away and leaving them to their own discussion.
Logan made a note in the back of his mind to make up the last four years to Walter for his smooth redirection of the conversation before things got even more awkward.
“What was that for?” Lorna giggled, even though it was clear that she was utterly perplexed. “You haven’t flicked me since I was nine.”
Logan shrugged, still wishing he could vanish on the spot. Still no luck, and he wasn’t going to get away with such a plainly uncharacteristic act in the middle of dinner. So he vainly willed some of the pinkness from his cheeks and turned to his sister.
“There was something on your nose,” he said matter-of-factly. “You never did tell me where you got those scars.”
There were two. An arched cut over the bridge of her nose that hadn’t quite healed right, leaving a slight ridge of raised tissue along the bottom edge of the scar. The second was a perfect mirror of his own; a deep, thin line gouged through her lip as if drawn by a claw, though her’s was on the opposite side to his.
That was the scar that she self-consciously rubbed her thumb over.
“Well this one was a gift from Saker,” she said after a brief pause, tapping the side of her nose to indicate the arched mark. “He punched me in the face during our fight.”
“And the other?”
As expected, she hesitated to answer and her thumb traced over the mark once more, the side of her nail dragging through the narrow groove. He knew all too well where it had come from, but he needed to hear her say it before he could truly accept that she had encountered that thing too.
“Crawler,” she whispered. “It said something about ‘one to match the other.’ At the time, I thought it was talking about this one-" she tapped her nose again "-but I guess it was talking about you.”
The corner of his mouth itched, but he resisted the urge to rub it.
Every time he closed his eyes at night, he could taste blood in his mouth and hear the Crawler’s cackling as it dragged a wicked claw over his lips, marking him forever as one of its playthings. He’d wake up in a cold sweat and have to run his thumb over his mouth to ground himself, to reassure himself that he was not bleeding and that he was far from Crawler’s grasp… for the moment, at least.
He wondered, briefly, if Lorna had similar nightmares. The dark circles around her eyes were telling enough. It was little wonder that she applied makeup whenever she left the castle or attended court. Anything to keep her people from suspecting that their Queen was struggling with her burden.
"I suppose it must have been," was his reply. "Unless getting a scar from Saker of all people was somehow one of your worst memories."
The touch of sarcasm took the edge off of the conversation, and Lorna grinned in spite of herself.
"At least I didn't get one from falling down the stairs when I was six," she jabbed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Logan replied airily, though the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly upwards. "Especially when one considers that you weren't even alive back then."
"Jasper would never lie about something like that," she shot back smugly. "He said that you were inconsolable for over an hour."
"Jasper was mad even back then."
"People don't go senile in their early fifties, Logan."
"I said 'mad' not 'senile'. Sane people don't look at an advertisement that insists that a butler must be prepared for daily occurrences of violence and decide 'ah yes, that sounds like the perfect job for me'."
That was a story that their mother had simply loved to tell. Apparently Jasper was the only applicant she had received after her first butler's prompt resignation, which had resulted from a sudden and unexpected bandit attack, and when he'd proven more than capable of running her household and dealing with intruders - where he'd learned to handle live explosives, he'd never say - she kept him on, and he'd served her and her family ever since.
Most butlers had better self-preservation instincts.
Lorna simply grinned though, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.
"Careful Logan. He can hear everything we say, remember?"
"Well of course I do," Logan said, rolling his eyes. "He was doing that long before he figured out how to work the Guild Seal."
"Right," she laughed. "Remember that time we planned to leave earwigs under the pillow of that diplomat from Samarkand?"
"I still have no idea how he found out about that," Logan chuckled, shaking his head.
"Because he hears all, sees all and knows all." She paused, then nodded her head with a faux look of grim determination. "When this is all over, I shall see to it that there is a temple dedicated to Jasper."
"He deserves it. He's put up with the two of us for all these years."
It would be upon later reflection that the ease of the back and forth would surprise Logan. He and his sister hadn't bantered so casually in years. Not since Aurora. He'd certainly not indulged in the nostalgia of his youthful antics like this, not when so much had been resting on his shoulders.
And yet, for just a while, it was as if nothing had changed. They continued to chat over their dinner, completely ignorant to the conversation and sideways glances from further down the table.
Maybe, he thought to himself after they had all dispersed for the evening, he would take his meals in the dining room more often.
