![](http://cobalt-company.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/writing:2024-10-23-the-hartrims-and-the-sea/style="margin:/medium.jpg) |
| Details |
| Author: | Aly |
| Summary: | Siamus Fallon pays a visit to the family of Reniya Hartrim after hearing that his mother's a tidesage. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: The Red String Game
The Hartrims' house stands on a narrow, but lovely street at the edge of the Cathedral District; one with a clear view of the harbor. It is a normal looking house of two stories, white with blue trim, and plenty of windows. The front yard, while small, is well tended, indicating that someone put a lot of effort into the gardening.
Vice Admiral Fallon does not appear to be a man with an avid interest in either harbor views or gardening. He strides from the street up the walk, his attention fixed on the door like a target. He's buttoned his dark blue overcoat now and turned the collar up against the wind, as the day sinks into evening and the chill shadow of an autumn twilight gathers in the streets.
He stops outside the door and knocks three times briskly, then puts his hands back in his pockets and waits. He does not look around. He is intent as a predator on the door, all of his usual idle energy suddenly focused like a sunbeam through a magnifying glass.
A woman comes to the door, dressed in a warm green sweater over light brown pants, her hair a shade or two lighter brown than Ralaea's. She is not an inch taller than 5'2, which gives her the appearance of a mouse staring up at a cat when she sees him, and her face drains of color.
"V-Vice Admiral," she stammers, taking a step back. "Are you…" Her lips keep moving, forming the word lost, but no sound emerges, and she quickly changes course. "Please, come in."
Siamus nods to her with formal courtesy, not quite a bow, and steps in past her. "Thank ye kindly, madam. I'm afraid ye have the advantage of me. You'd be… Mrs. Hartrim, aye?"
"Yes, Othelia, sir," she says. "Come sit, if it pleases you."
The foyer is a cream colored room with a doorway at the far end, and stairs to the right leading to the second story. To the left is an archway that leads into the living room, a room of green and brown. It is this room that Othelia sweeps towards, looking more than a little dazed. A coffee table greets them in the center of the room, with a green couch on the left, and two chairs at the right, in front of a lit fireplace.
Othelia starts into the room, makes it about halfway to the couch, then collapses in a faint.
Siamus freezes for half a beat, utterly astonished.
But he is fundamentally a Gentleman, and Gentlemen are specially licensed to handle Ladies' Frail Nerves; in the next beat he is at her side and gathering her up carefully in his arms.
He rises to carry her over to the couch and lay her down, lifting her shoulders with one arm to prop a couch cushion beneath her head, and then he straightens to unbutton his overcoat and shrug out of it. He drapes the coat over her like a blanket, puts two fingers to her neck to check her pulse, and then crouches down beside the couch. "Mrs. Hartrim?" he asks gently.
Othelia's eyes flutter open, and she stares at him. "Oh," she says.
The door on the far side of the living room opens and a large, gruff man emerges. While he bears some small resemblance to Reniya in the wavy brown hair, it's clear the wayward son got his charm from elsewhere. The man's mustache is thick, curling down over his face like a frown, well suited to his perpetually dour expression. He wears a sleeveless blue vest despite the weather outside, and blue working pants, and it's clear from his exposed skin that he works the sea for a living.
"Vice Admiral," he says, pausing next to one of the green chairs. If he is surprised, it's not visible in his expression.
Siamus rises smoothly again at the new arrival. "Mr. Hartrim," he says courteously.
He does not look at the man; all of his attention remains on Othelia, whom he continues to gaze down at. "Are ye well, Mrs. Hartrim?" he asks her, still gently.
"Yes," Othelia says, struggling to sit up. She quits after a stern look from her husband, attempting to melt under the coat instead.
"She fainted?" Mr. Hartrim asks, moving closer to the couch.
"She did," says Siamus. A brief, cold shadow has crossed his expression as Othelia quails before her husband's gaze, and now he offers her his hand to help her upright, looking directly at the woman rather than Mr. Hartrim. "Does it often happen?"
"Occasionally," Mr. Hartrim replies.
"I-it's really not so often," Othelia hurries to assure him, taking his hand and sitting up with the aid. "We weren't expecting… Has something happened to Reniya?"
Siamus's expression softens and he smiles at her. "No, madam, not that I'm aware. I haven't seen your son today, but I expect he's perfectly well."
Now he looks up and across at Mr. Hartrim, taking in the man's appearance. He offers a courteous nod, not quite so formal as the one he'd given Othelia. "Vice Admiral Siamus Fallon, though I see that information may have preceded me." He looks down at Othelia again. "Born to the Stormsong Fallons, and a grandson of the Parrish line."
Understanding washes over the other man's face and he grunts, crossing his arms. "Dinnsfield, mm?"
A mild panic flows through Othelia, and before she can stop herself, she blurts, "I'm not going back!" Then she blinks and shifts awkwardly under the coat. "You're not… here to do that. Your House is in the Kingdom. I-I'm sorry."
Siamus doesn't answer Mr. Hartrim. To Othelia, he says, "Aye, it's Stormwind Fallon now, since Theramore, and a Vice Admiral of the Stormwind fleet. And we're none of us going back, it would seem." He knits his brow at her. "D'ye fear someone coming to take ye home?"
"Oh, not so much anymore," Othelia says quickly. "Not since I'm past my prime birthing years." She seems to realize that's kind of an awkward thing to say, and she blushes.
"Ah," says Siamus.
It is kind of an awkward thing to say. But he seems to get her meaning.
"Ye have… two children, then? Reniya and a sister?"
"Penquin," Othelia says, smiling. "Or Penny, as she likes to be called. She's probably upstairs, if you wanted to… Just to talk. I'm not selling her, not for anything, and she's old enough to decide for herself."
Siamus goes very still in that peculiar way he sometimes does.
At length he says, "I assure ye, Mrs. Hartrim, I have neither intention nor desire to… buy anyone. But am I to understand from this that the young lady is a born sage?"
Othelia sighs, looking a little more at ease. "I don't know," she admits. "But there are people who'd buy… even people like Penny who don't show any obvious signs, just to see. I've heard Count Amerith likes to collect rarities. It wouldn't surprise me if he wanted to…"
"If either of them was, it'd be the boy," Mr. Hartrim says. He is still looming nearby, a gruff and weather-worn statue.
Othelia's face twists into despair at this. "Don't say that! Ren is normal. He has to be. I told him to stay away from Her."
Siamus looks sharply between the two. "Reniya himself? But he's never shown ye sign? Neither of them? So —"
He stiffens, lifting his chin as if listening to something faintly in the distance, and says salt under his breath.
He continues to stare sightlessly for a moment, his jaw tight, and then he pushes back whatever thought had just struck him. He turns to Othelia.
"Mrs. Hartrim," he says. "Why ye would think ye could keep the blood from telling simply by keeping the lad from the sea, I do not know. I should think ye would know better than that yourself. She'll call to what's Hers, no matter. And teaching a fear of Her is what does harm. She asks us to stand on our courage and our wits before Her; fear will cripple ye. Fear will kill. But ye should know this yourself, madam. I was not even aware there were other sages in Stormwind, and I tell ye we're sore in need."
A tremor runs through Othelia, and she avoids his gaze. "My line is weak," she says. "We've never been the strongest, but it's getting worse, and my mother… It wasn't a love match, to my father, it was arranged. Paid for. His family wanted to introduce sage blood to his line, and I am the result. I have the tools, I have the training, but I can barely control anything, and that's why Jeremin took me away. He didn't want children. He was afraid they would end up like me, but it was my fault we did."
Othelia's eyes fill with tears. "I thought we were safe. She almost took Ren from me."
Siamus looks between the two Hartrims. He takes another step closer to Othelia. "I can understand that your husband's motive was… noble." He glances a brief acknowledgement at Mr. Hartrim. "And I'm sorry to hear the tale of your family." He pauses in a way that suggests he has additional thoughts regarding the tale of her family, but if so he doesn't voice them.
"The sea's not gentle, but nor is she jealous. I cannot imagine it was malice that nearly took your lad, but I can tell ye that if he's got the tide-blood, ye did him no good by forbidding him the sea. There's no good in being afraid of Her, but if ye will be, the only thing for it is to face Her, let the lad face Her and learn to do what he can." He scrutinizes Othelia, looking equal parts baffled and stern. "I don't know what's taught ye this fear of Her, but it has to be a wound in you, Mrs. Hartrim, to be so… afraid or ashamed of what ye are. To fear what your children might be.
"She's not hunting you or them. She's calling to ye, and if your son knew what he was and how to use it, he'd have been worlds safer."
"Many of your Order die young, attempting to guide ships through Her whims," Jeremin says sternly. "I wouldn't have my family suffer that fate."
Siamus turns on him, his gaze black. "I died to Her when I was ten years old. Drowned.
"My father's family kept that from me, and aye, I'll hold it against them. Not because it would have changed the way I feel about the sea, but because there was a piece of myself I couldn't find in memory until I knew. My mother's family, though — they weren't of the blood, and when it happened, they would have taken me from the sea. To protect me. My father took me from them instead to stop that, and I'll thank the man's memory for it every day of my life. I'd have been broken without Her. She's in our blood. She's what we're meant for."
He looks between them again. "I know ye'll think me a cold man — and I tell ye I've a family of my own and they're more precious to me than salt — but families will suffer. All of them. The world's half made of sorrow and terror. The question is how ye rise through it. D'ye think your family's suffered less for trying to hide? Is it happiness ye've got yourselves?"
Siamus is feeling Forthright. Siamus's career as a family therapist never really got off the ground.
"What we've got is our lives," Jeremin says, rising to his full height, meeting Siamus's gaze in challenge. "Do as you like with your own kin, bear your Lady Wife's tears if you must, but if you've come to conscript a member of my family for your fleet, I'd ask you to look elsewhere."
Othelia has been reduced to a trembling heap on the couch.
"I have not," Siamus says levelly, "come to conscript anyone. It's not my way. I came to meet another sage, one I'd never known of living here in my own kingdom. And aye, I'd have offered a place wi'my fleet, or offered to either of your children if they have the gift. But I will never take a man or woman unwilling to anything."
He glances at Othelia, and her state seems to give him pause, recall him from the storm. He turns toward her again.
"Mrs. Hartrim," he says in a gentler tone. "I came meaning to pay respects, not to upset ye, and I'll beg your pardon for that. I do hate to see how ye suffer, truly. I fear I may disagree as to the cause, but there was no call to forget my manners."
He turns his head to offer Mr. Hartrim a stiff nod. Ditto to you, buddy.
"I will not trouble your daughter now if ye'd rather I not. I would be very glad to meet and speak with her sometime, even if to no other purpose than she is the sister of a friend and a daughter of Kul Tiras."
"The tidal wave," Othelia murmurs, peering up at Siamus. "Did you hear Her? So much rage. I could see Her coming for us from here, but I couldn't… There was no way to stop Her."
Siamus is silent for a moment; he looks abruptly drawn and tired.
"I did," he says. "I did hear Her. And turned Her back from my coast. It was… all I could do. And barely."
Another silence. "The dragon breaking loose of the earth, it drove the whole world mad. The seas — ye know I've just come back, aye? From the rescue effort for the soldiers lost undersea? What was happening out there was no natural thing. The naga, their queen — they were laying siege to the elemental planes themselves. The naga queen meant to usurp the throne of the elemental lord. They killed an Ancient — one of the wild gods of the world, one of the seaborne ones. They'd enslaved one of the Abyssal kraken, drove it to madness." He drags a hand through his hair, a tired, informal gesture. "So aye, there's been a rage on the sea, for certain. Tides willing, we'll see fairer waters now, wi'the naga undone."
"Is their queen dead?" Othelia asks, sitting up straighter as some strength returns to her in a hopeful rush.
Siamus hesitates, seeing that hopeful expression, and then shakes his head regretfully. "We never saw her, herself. Her generals all are dead — those who were there, at least. Azshara never showed her own face. But her army's broken and driven back, the Tidehunter restored, and the plane of water secured. If she means to come again, I expect it will be a long time before she can muster, and the Earthen Ring has their shamans watching over it all now. Can ye feel the seas rest easier?"
He does not say whether he can himself. He also does not mention Old Gods.
"And Mrs. Hartrim," he adds, gently again. "You're right there was no way to stop that rage. She was… in a terrible pain, and it was painful for all of us who felt it. There's no shame or failing in not having held Her back, nor tried. We're none of us Ery, aye? And none of us — not us nor anyone — should be sacrificed to Her a'purpose." He glances at Jeremin and then back to Othelia.
"She'll take what she takes, but She never asks us to yield, nor to stand foolish. We could no more have held back Her wrath than the whole of the Guard and garrison could have stopped that dragon. And I'd say that to survive drowning as a child and the dragon as a Guard, your son has the wind's own fortune on him."
Othelia wilts at the revelation that the naga queen is still at large, before recovering a small glimmer of hope that the Earthen Ring is keeping an eye on things. Sorrow, along with a small tremor, returns to her hands at the mention of the Tidemother's rage and pain, shifting to pride, and even a smile, as he speaks of Reniya's luck. The woman seems to exist in never ceasing waves of emotion.
Jeremin, for his part, has stopped looming quite so close, having retreated back to stand between the two chairs on the other side of the coffee table. "The girl's upstairs," he says, apropos of nothing.
"Oh, yes, I'm afraid Penny would never forgive us if we hosted such a prestigious visitor and didn't tell her," Othelia says. "Shall I call her down?"
Siamus hesitates a moment and then finds his Gentleman's Smile again. "I would be very glad to meet the young lady, if she's willing to spare me a few moments of her evening."
"Jere, could you —"
The heavy-built man is already making his way towards the stairs.
Othelia gestures towards one of the chairs. "You can sit, if you like," she says. "I didn't mean to keep you standing so long."
Siamus shakes his head at her courteously as he does step toward one of the chairs. "Well, and I certainly didn't intend to make ye faint, Mrs. Hartrim, nor to upset ye; standing is of no consequence to me."
He settles into the armchair, smooths his trousers over one knee, and crosses his legs. "Reniya tells me we came to the mainland near the same time," he says politely. "And that ye were of Boralus?"
Othelia lifts a hand to her mouth in surprise. "You — you've spoken with Ren? Directly? How… Did he trouble you?"
Siamus smiles at her. "I've spoken with him, aye. We have mutual friends. And I'm always glad to meet a fellow Kul Tiran expatriate."
None of that is false and it sounds quite plausibly like an explanation, but it's also possible that Siamus has just provided three individually-true-but-unrelated sentences.
Othelia mouths 'ohhh,' quietly to herself, connecting some dots that may or may not be accurate. "Is it that friend of his, Natalyah? I hope she didn't ask you to get involved with his issue with the Guard. He's done so well these past years, I don't understand why he would suddenly get drunk and throw up on his superior's desk…"
Siamus is not quite as good as Avrenne at just playing off new information as Already Known, so he covers what was likely a fleeting look of at least startlement with, "Ah. Well. Miss Kensington-Whit is a discreet young lady and didn't disclose that particular detail. I'm aware, naturally, that he's had some… discomfort at work recently, but I expect most of the Guard have, since the dragon, aye? They're all dedicated men and women — your son not least among them — and feelings run high. He has good friends, though, both in the Guard and out of it. I'm sure it will be sorted if it's not already."
He pauses to consider Othelia's expression. "If it should seem necessary that I put in a word…?" he offers delicately.
Othelia's expression turns back to despair. "He would hate it if he knew I interfered…" she says. "He never comes home as it is, not even to visit. I only hear about him from time to time from others. Even Penny —"
A woman with ghost brown hair, wearing a similarly colored business suit practically explodes into the room, pausing for a moment in the doorway to catch her breath. "You're the Vice Admiral?" she asks. "My brother's not dead, is he?" Her outfit is a little disturbed, as if she had just pulled it on in a hurry.
Siamus rises immediately to his feet, a reflexive response to the presence of a New Lady. He bows his head to her courteously. "He is not, miss, so far as I know."
Siamus, please. Less honest.
"… which is to say, I saw him only a short time ago, and he was quite well."
"Quite well," Penny repeats suspiciously. "So, not asleep in a bathroom? Did… did you lick him?"
"Penny!" Othelia cries, horrified.
Siamus glances away from Penny toward the fire and clears his throat. To a highly observant person, it might look like he is trying not to laugh, but when he looks back at Penny his near-black gaze is solemn. "I did not, miss," he assures her. "And he was not… asleep in a bathroom when I saw him, no."
Penny, blushing, busies herself with smoothing out her skirt. "Are you not here about Reniya? I'm sorry, it's just, we've come to expect the worst."
"I came to pay my respects to your lady mother in particular, but I'm glad of an opportunity to meet all of the Hartrims." Siamus smiles warmly at Penny. "When I met Reniya and learned there was another family of Kul Tirans here in my own city — well, we're not many on the mainland, aye? It's always a pleasure to find others."
Penny glances at Othelia, who gives her a thin smile. "You know about the tidesage thing," she concludes. "So, what do you think? Is Ren one?"
Othelia's smile freezes and her fingers twitch in her lap.
Siamus hesitates. "I have my suspicions, aye. They are… recent suspicions I've not yet confirmed. Is it your view that your brother might be a tidesage?"
He flicks a sidelong look at Othelia and then, perhaps for her benefit, adds to Penny, "To be clear, my interest is… an academic one. Was an academic one. Is perhaps now directed to protection, if necessary. But I did not come to conscript anyone, though I had hoped to offer an opportunity."
"I don't know much about tidesages," Penny admits. "Mother is a little… secretive about it? But I heard, when Ren almost drown, he was swimming deeper. He said after, it made him feel more alive. Which is silly, because you're not alive if you're dead. Ever since then, everyone's been weird about the whole thing. That's why I was hoping you'd know."
Siamus looks at Othelia again. He continues to look at her this time as he speaks, though his answer is directed — presumably — at Penny. "I certainly mean to find out. And your mother is not to be blamed; we're a secretive lot, on the whole. I do believe I understood what your brother meant, though. I suspect your mother does also."
Now he does turn back to Penny directly. "And yourself, Miss Hartrim? Does it only sound 'silly'? Do ye not hear the tides, or feel a part of them?"
"Hear them?" Penny shakes her head. "I like the ocean. I often try to paint it, and now that I'm getting proper lessons from Lady Priscilla, I'm improving. But if you're asking if the ocean talks to me, then no, I don't believe so. Is that how it works? Being a tidesage?"
There is a tiny bit of relief in Othelia's expression as Penny admits she doesn't hear the tides, a small exhale, as if she was holding her breath for some time.
Siamus smiles at Penny; there may have been a fleeting shadow of disappointment in his gaze. "I wouldn't say She… talks, precisely. But aye. Something like that. Ye take lessons in painting with Lady Priscilla Aspenwood? We have mutual friends, in that case. Lady Priscilla lived at Fallon House last year for a time while Lord Bertrand was still deployed."
Penny beams. "Small world! Natalyah introduced me when I told her I always wanted to be a painter. She's also going to introduce me to Peril Farrens. You know. The Peril Farrens. I could hardly be more excited. I have no idea how Lathrik met such a lovely woman, or how she came to care enough about Ren to come here herself when his work life started to implode, but I'm grateful for all of it.
"And of course, it's very nice meeting you. You have ships, don't you? Of course you do, you're a Vice Admiral. I don't suppose you might show them to me sometime? I haven't been allowed on the ocean since Ren's incident, and that was… over twenty years ago, now?" She spares a glance at her mother, and continues hastily. "It should surely be fine, since we know I'm not a tidesage now."
Siamus spares the briefest, neutral glance at Othelia before smiling at Penny again and inclining his head courteously. "I have… a number of ships, aye. Ye may come and see them whenever ye please. Occasionally I've one or a pair here in Stormwind Harbor, taking on cargo or troops, but at present those of my fleet not deployed are south along the coast in Fallon Harbor. I'd be glad to give ye a tour of any Fallon vessel, or one of my captains will. Any of the Hartrims is welcome to Fallon House or Fallon Harbor at any time, I assure ye. As I say, we're not so many on the mainland, and I'm always glad to know more of my fellow countrymen.
"And Miss Kensington-Whit is a lovely lady. I knew her… it must be a decade gone now. So it is a small world, aye, to encounter her again when I dropped in on Dinnsfield recently. Your brother's a charming man and been a good friend himself to Dinnsfield; I don't wonder that he has the like of Miss Kensington-Whit watching out for him now."
Penny all but squeals in excitement, clapping her hands together and smiling. "I'll hold you to that," she says. "A man's word and all. Oh, I have so many plans to make. I have to start packing."
She turns and bolts towards the stairs, calling after her, "It was nice meeting you, Vice Admiral, I'll see you tomorrow!"
Othelia stares after her fleeing daughter, too shocked to be properly horrified. "I… I'm so sorry," she says. "That was a terrible display of manners, please forgive her. I will speak with her if tomorrow is too soon for you, and we can send ahead properly."
Siamus, by contrast, looks on the verge of laughter, his gaze gleaming. He shakes his head at Othelia. "It's perfectly all right, I'd not extend an invitation I didn't mean." After a moment he adds, "And I have a little sister myself. I'm familiar wi'the species."
He turns to Othelia more directly and the humor fades from his intent expression. "Mrs. Hartrim, if ye fear Count Amerith's taking an interest in Reniya should he prove to be a sage — have ye not the same concern for yourself?"
"It's… a kept secret," Othelia says, a little less confidently than she might have before his visit. "I only told Lathrik and Natalyah because I thought it might help them with Reniya. Now…" she starts to shake a little, "it's gotten out, so I suppose it's only a matter of time."
If she wasn't worried about the Count finding her before, she is now.
"All right," Siamus says. He is probably aiming for soothing but there's a touch too much of the Commander's Voice in there to make it perfect. "All right. So far as I know, Dinnsfield and Miss Kensington-Whit have only mentioned it to me, and I believe they're both trustworthy. However… ye should know that Amerith's taken some sort of interest in them. Which, to be clear, I'm trying to help them with. If ye want to continue to rely on their discretion, I suspect ye may, but if not — Mrs. Hartrim, I do not mean to be forward, nor to ask ye unwilling, but if ye wish to accompany your daughter to Fallon House tomorrow, ye'd be more than welcome, and to bide until ye feel safe or the matter's sorted. Mr. Hartrim is naturally included as well. If ye like. But half my staff are former marines, the Duchess and myself are familiar with Amerith and his games, and I assure ye you'd be safe."
Othelia's eyes brim with tears. "You would take us into your protection?" she asks. "That's… kind of you. I would have to discuss it with Jere, of course, but I think he knows he couldn't protect me from that man. Yes… yes, it might be for the best for us to accompany Penny. And… from there, we'll see."
Siamus inclines his head. "As I say, I do think discretion still protects ye. I doubt anyone will make much of my visit, as it's not widely known that I'm one myself, and it is at least somewhat known that I'm acquainted with your son and his friends. But I do think it would be simplest and safest, if ye feel unsettled. You'd be very welcome, and safe."
He glances toward the door. "Speaking of your son's friends, however — our conversation has reminded me that I meant to speak with Miss Kensington-Whit on a matter and haven't yet. At this hour, the Duchess will already be wondering, so I should get back to Old Town so that I can get home as soon as." He takes his pocketwatch from his waistcoat and flips it open to check the time.
"Yes, of course, then I won't keep you. It is getting late." Othelia gets to her feet, bringing his overcoat up with her, and offers it back. "Thank you. For looking out for us. I… I understand my situation is probably baffling to you. You come from such a prestigious line of sages, and here I am afraid of Her gifts. But still, thank you all the same."
Siamus takes his overcoat from her with another courteous bow of his head. "I'm nothing but glad to have met ye, Mrs. Hartrim, and will be glad to continue the acquaintance. And I am sorry to have taken ye aback, turning up as I did."
"Oh, no, no, that is hardly your fault, really." Othelia smiles a little. "I'm happy you came."
Siamus folds his coat over his arm rather than put it back on while still a guest in the Hartrims' living room, steps in to take Othelia's hand, and bows over it gallantly.
He can't really help himself sometimes.
"Good evening, Mrs. Hartrim, and give your husband my regards."
The Vice Admiral takes his leave.