Shadow (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} funkyinfishnet) wrote,@ 2008-01-18 13:36:00 |
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| Current mood: |  accomplished |
| Entry tags: | fic |
Fic: 'After the Island', Raven/Raven: The Island, G
Title: After the Island
Fandom: Raven / Raven: The Island (BBC Scotland)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: It's all owned by BBC Scotland
Summary: After the island quest, Erina takes the warriors back to Raven and is surprised to find herself on the opposite side of an argument with her old friend about the most unexpected subject.
Author notes: Yes, it's a fic about a kids gameshow. Also one of my fave shows ever. The characters spoke to me vividly so I wrote. All opinions welcome.
The warriors had a surprising amount of energy left the evening of the quest’s end. Eventually, when they showed no signs of tiring out, Cyrus suggested that they might want to use the light left in the day out on the beach. The warriors agreed, taking their bows and arrows with them. They couldn’t seem to stop making noise and Erina smiled a little, hearing their voices fade into the wind.
“Come now, Erina,” Cyrus extended an arm welcomingly. “I’m surprised to say that there is some food left and you must eat. You too, Raven.”
At Cyrus’s side, Erina turned towards the silent figure by the window. Raven’s gaze was fixed on the world beyond it and had been since entering the room. He looked like a carved statue, immoveable and strong.
“Raven?”
The word emerged from Erina’s lips as a fragile question and Raven turned his head slightly at the noise. But his eyes remained on what he saw through the window. It was as though he couldn’t look away.
“I will join you soon,” he told the window ledge.
“Alaunus still stands, Raven,” Cyrus said, a great deal of affectionate humour colouring his voice. “You don’t need to keep watch tonight.”
A small rueful smile tugged at Raven’s lips and his gaze slid to Cyrus for a second before returning to the window scene.
“I know it,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I still feel drawn to the image of my homeland. I am not used to seeing it so peaceful.”
“It will only last a short while,” agreed Erina, her heart tearing and understanding. “But we should celebrate that, Raven, and your brave warriors’ success and safe return.”
Raven’s nodded, but unspoken sorrow hung heavily about his shoulders as he turned fully from the window.
“Lead on,” he smiled, a corner of his lips drawn upwards.
There was still some fish spit roasting slowly over the fire in the room where the warriors had eaten their meal, and several small loaves of bread together with generous amounts of the edible greenery that children always seemed to avoid. Cyrus also produced a stronger drink than the concoction he’d provided for the child warriors.
“I have a feeling that you might need this,” was all he said.
Erina accepted a mugfull with a smile and felt her stomach respond to the sight of the meal. She had been unable to eat all day, too worried for the warriors who were so close to succeeding and so close to being within Nevar’s grasp.
Now was a different matter. Expertly Erina tore a fish apart with her hunting knife and grabbed a loaf of bread. Raven was concentrating on the food too, his focus as absolute as it had been on the window.
“How is it that the two of you are still so alike?” laughed Cyrus from behind his own mug.
Raven and Erina met each others’ gazes. Four years might have passed since they had seen each other, but some parts of their lives had stood still. Cyrus’s words were an echo of what they had been told frequently as children.
“This brew is good, Cyrus,” Raven remarked. “How did you make it?”
“Ah, you are not interested in such things, Raven,” Cyrus’s eyes twinkled. “Though it is kind of you to try. I’m glad if you like the taste.”
Erina tasted the brew’s rich flavours on her tongue and smiled. It took her back to Cyrus’s room in her father’s castle where both she and Raven, along with several other of their playmates, had been taught about astronomy, potions, and the magic returned to the island. A fire had constantly been burning in the grate and the room was always full of wonderful strange smells that Erina had been fascinated by.
“It’s a good brew,” Erina said at last, feeling it burn down her throat slightly and welcoming the warmth it left behind. “And I’m thankful for it, Cyrus. I’ve missed such things on Alaunus.”
Cyrus smiled kindly and covered her nearest hand with his own.
“We have missed you, Erina,” he said firmly. “Stay here for as long as you feel you can, you’ll need some rest.”
“He won’t return to Alaunus yet,” Raven stared through the stonewall, his hands stilled. There was no need to ask who he was talking about. “Now he has been defeated on Alaunus, he will collect himself and his demons and come to my land to try and defeat me there until he can hatch another devious plot for our homeland.”
Erina could see that Raven’s hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were whitening. Her heart twisted again. Her friend had always been serious and focused, she had often teased him about his inability to let things go and relax. But once he had become involved in the constant battles against Nevar’s forces, he had darkened dramatically. The four years he’d spent alone appeared to have intensified this to a degree that she had not been expecting. She wondered if he even remembered the laughter they had shared together in their childhoods, the games they’d played.
“You cannot dwell on that,” Erina told him, her roles as friend and princess giving a hard strength to her voice. “Not on this day when there is so much to be thankful for.”
“Well said, Erina,” Cyrus was on his feet. “Now I think I will go and check on the warriors.”
Without another word he left and Erina dug her fingers into her bread. Raven’s body was in the room with her, but his mind remained elsewhere. It was clear that he could not focus on the victory now, couldn’t allow himself to when the threat was not obliterated. The darkness still hung heavy before them.
But despite this, tonight they should celebrate. For the warriors’ sakes if nothing else.
“Raven.”
Her voice was still strong and Raven lifted his gaze to her. But his eyes held a pained expression that jolted her.
“You must let this go for tonight. What will the warriors think if you cannot celebrate their achievement?” Erina asked, a sliver of pleading running through her words. “You have an acorn.”
“Aye, an acorn that will take many years to grow. An acorn that is no use to us now, in this battle against Nevar,” Raven’s words were cutting and sharp and his eyes were flinty now when Erina looked into them. “It isn’t enough.”
“It is a start,” Erina reminded him. “And from it, we can build something new, something that Nevar will be unable to corrupt or destroy. Don’t you see, Raven? It is hope.”
There was silence after that and Raven’s expression was quite different when he looked at her. He looked like the friend she remembered, a warm appreciative smile on his face as though she had said something he was proud of.
“I am glad that you believe in that still, Princess,” he said at last.
Erina smiled slightly at the honorific. Hearing it from Raven gave birth to so many images of Alaunus in full bloom, to races through fields, catapult practices, fishing, and laughter. Of course, there were lessons, and war councils, and her father’s hair greying, and her mother’s smile disappearing as Nevar gained ground. But it was home and whatever battles had scarred her land and people, she had memories threading through her thoughts and dreams that remained wonderful.
Erina looked back at Raven and felt a rush of compassion for her friend, who could only see the darkness now.
“Do you believe in it anymore?” she asked. “I know how hard the years have been on us all, but you cannot have given up all hope?”
“I have not lost it all,” Raven told her. “But time after time, Nevar escapes and we are left to try again.”
“But we gain ground with every battle we fight,” protested Erina. “And Nevar knows this, we are getting closer to ousting him from Alaunus and this land. He knows that the time of reckoning approaches and he fights harder for it.”
Raven looked at her, a perplexed expression on his face. Erina couldn’t recall ever seeing such a look on his face before. Raven had always been wise and full of knowledge that she was still learning. It was rare that she understood something before he did. In any other circumstance, the idea of it would have made her smile.
“How is it we view the same situation so differently?” Raven asked, seemingly not expecting an answer. “All I see now is Nevar taking away more of what matters to me, and more brave warriors falling in the fight. How many did you lose on Alaunus?”
Erina’s words froze in her throat. She barely managed to swallow. Raven’s words stung like they never had before. She had never known him to be cruel.
“Nine,” it came out as a breath, not a word.
“Nine brave souls that I tutored and trained and now they are gone,” Raven sounded raw and when Erina looked up, she saw no blame in his eyes, only pain. “And Nevar’s dark magic snares them in a way that I cannot undo.”
Erina felt her heart tear a little more. Raven had lost warriors before, warriors that he could retrieve or send home after they had fallen into a demon’s grasp or failed a challenge. But he had never lost them like this, extinguished and unreachable.
“They knew the risks of the mission,” she reminded him. “And they yet chose to take up the challenge. You trained them well, Raven, and they will not be forgotten.”
The tortured silence that followed wreathed Raven in way that made it almost visible and told Erina of his still-smouldering anger. She got up and moved closer to her friend.
“But there is an ending for us, Raven. Nevar knows that you are stronger than he is, that you have the power to defeat him. So he prolongs the battle, and he hurts you, hurts us all, as he struggles to continue. We will lose more to him, you are right, but we will win. Our victory today only confirms this to me.”
She took a breath, not realising that she had needed one until then. Raven looked faintly amused, but he wasn’t frowning and that was welcome. Erina was always the one who could ease him out of the brooding spells that he more and more frequently sunk himself into.
“We cannot forget that,” she continued, her words urgent and firm. “If we do, then Nevar has won. The battle is already over.”
The warriors’ cheer from outside, loud enough to penetrate the stonewalls, broke through the intensity of the moment and Erina tore herself away from his examining gaze first. She sat back and reached for what was left of her bread. She and Raven had never argued about this before. They had kept the fight strong in her parents, the barons, and the people when Nevar had continued to close in around them on Alaunus. To see and hear Raven despairing produced a cold clenching in her chest.
When she looked up again, her mouth full of warm bread, she found that Raven’s eyes had remained on her. His stare was as intense and probing as it had always been, but there was a glimmer of admiration there that she had not been granted many times before.
“You do well to remind me,” Raven said, inclining his head as a rueful smile twisted his mouth.
As he breathed out, his shoulders straightened in a way that anyone else might have missed. The sorrow that had hung about him seemed to lessen. It was part of him now again, just as the same sorrow was part of Erina.
“It is something I have long taught my warriors, that even in the darkest night the stars still shine,” he breathed in again, as though it was a new day. “Thank you.”
He reached out and pressed his hand to hers. Erina remembered her last glimpse of him on Alaunus as his flesh left hers and he swirled what remained of his tattered cloak into feathers.
“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” she told him, a slight smile on her lips because it was the truth.
“And you,” he replied.
A loud clatter of footsteps heralded the warrior’s arrival and Erina squeezed Raven’s hand a final time before relinquishing it. He listened to more of the warriors’ stories and showed an interest that made their eyes shine. Eventually Cyrus talked of sleep and Erina helped him persuade the warriors to retire to the room that Cyrus had prepared for them. She had no doubt that they would sleep late into the day tomorrow.
Once downstairs again, she dropped a bundle of bedding at Raven’s feet with an arch of her eyebrows, and made up her own bed near the fire and kept her staff close. Though she heard no rustle of movement, Erina didn’t doubt that when she woke she would find the bedding unused and Raven stood at the window, staring towards Alaunus.
“Come now, Erina,” Cyrus extended an arm welcomingly. “I’m surprised to say that there is some food left and you must eat. You too, Raven.”
At Cyrus’s side, Erina turned towards the silent figure by the window. Raven’s gaze was fixed on the world beyond it and had been since entering the room. He looked like a carved statue, immoveable and strong.
“Raven?”
The word emerged from Erina’s lips as a fragile question and Raven turned his head slightly at the noise. But his eyes remained on what he saw through the window. It was as though he couldn’t look away.
“I will join you soon,” he told the window ledge.
“Alaunus still stands, Raven,” Cyrus said, a great deal of affectionate humour colouring his voice. “You don’t need to keep watch tonight.”
A small rueful smile tugged at Raven’s lips and his gaze slid to Cyrus for a second before returning to the window scene.
“I know it,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I still feel drawn to the image of my homeland. I am not used to seeing it so peaceful.”
“It will only last a short while,” agreed Erina, her heart tearing and understanding. “But we should celebrate that, Raven, and your brave warriors’ success and safe return.”
Raven’s nodded, but unspoken sorrow hung heavily about his shoulders as he turned fully from the window.
“Lead on,” he smiled, a corner of his lips drawn upwards.
There was still some fish spit roasting slowly over the fire in the room where the warriors had eaten their meal, and several small loaves of bread together with generous amounts of the edible greenery that children always seemed to avoid. Cyrus also produced a stronger drink than the concoction he’d provided for the child warriors.
“I have a feeling that you might need this,” was all he said.
Erina accepted a mugfull with a smile and felt her stomach respond to the sight of the meal. She had been unable to eat all day, too worried for the warriors who were so close to succeeding and so close to being within Nevar’s grasp.
Now was a different matter. Expertly Erina tore a fish apart with her hunting knife and grabbed a loaf of bread. Raven was concentrating on the food too, his focus as absolute as it had been on the window.
“How is it that the two of you are still so alike?” laughed Cyrus from behind his own mug.
Raven and Erina met each others’ gazes. Four years might have passed since they had seen each other, but some parts of their lives had stood still. Cyrus’s words were an echo of what they had been told frequently as children.
“This brew is good, Cyrus,” Raven remarked. “How did you make it?”
“Ah, you are not interested in such things, Raven,” Cyrus’s eyes twinkled. “Though it is kind of you to try. I’m glad if you like the taste.”
Erina tasted the brew’s rich flavours on her tongue and smiled. It took her back to Cyrus’s room in her father’s castle where both she and Raven, along with several other of their playmates, had been taught about astronomy, potions, and the magic returned to the island. A fire had constantly been burning in the grate and the room was always full of wonderful strange smells that Erina had been fascinated by.
“It’s a good brew,” Erina said at last, feeling it burn down her throat slightly and welcoming the warmth it left behind. “And I’m thankful for it, Cyrus. I’ve missed such things on Alaunus.”
Cyrus smiled kindly and covered her nearest hand with his own.
“We have missed you, Erina,” he said firmly. “Stay here for as long as you feel you can, you’ll need some rest.”
“He won’t return to Alaunus yet,” Raven stared through the stonewall, his hands stilled. There was no need to ask who he was talking about. “Now he has been defeated on Alaunus, he will collect himself and his demons and come to my land to try and defeat me there until he can hatch another devious plot for our homeland.”
Erina could see that Raven’s hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were whitening. Her heart twisted again. Her friend had always been serious and focused, she had often teased him about his inability to let things go and relax. But once he had become involved in the constant battles against Nevar’s forces, he had darkened dramatically. The four years he’d spent alone appeared to have intensified this to a degree that she had not been expecting. She wondered if he even remembered the laughter they had shared together in their childhoods, the games they’d played.
“You cannot dwell on that,” Erina told him, her roles as friend and princess giving a hard strength to her voice. “Not on this day when there is so much to be thankful for.”
“Well said, Erina,” Cyrus was on his feet. “Now I think I will go and check on the warriors.”
Without another word he left and Erina dug her fingers into her bread. Raven’s body was in the room with her, but his mind remained elsewhere. It was clear that he could not focus on the victory now, couldn’t allow himself to when the threat was not obliterated. The darkness still hung heavy before them.
But despite this, tonight they should celebrate. For the warriors’ sakes if nothing else.
“Raven.”
Her voice was still strong and Raven lifted his gaze to her. But his eyes held a pained expression that jolted her.
“You must let this go for tonight. What will the warriors think if you cannot celebrate their achievement?” Erina asked, a sliver of pleading running through her words. “You have an acorn.”
“Aye, an acorn that will take many years to grow. An acorn that is no use to us now, in this battle against Nevar,” Raven’s words were cutting and sharp and his eyes were flinty now when Erina looked into them. “It isn’t enough.”
“It is a start,” Erina reminded him. “And from it, we can build something new, something that Nevar will be unable to corrupt or destroy. Don’t you see, Raven? It is hope.”
There was silence after that and Raven’s expression was quite different when he looked at her. He looked like the friend she remembered, a warm appreciative smile on his face as though she had said something he was proud of.
“I am glad that you believe in that still, Princess,” he said at last.
Erina smiled slightly at the honorific. Hearing it from Raven gave birth to so many images of Alaunus in full bloom, to races through fields, catapult practices, fishing, and laughter. Of course, there were lessons, and war councils, and her father’s hair greying, and her mother’s smile disappearing as Nevar gained ground. But it was home and whatever battles had scarred her land and people, she had memories threading through her thoughts and dreams that remained wonderful.
Erina looked back at Raven and felt a rush of compassion for her friend, who could only see the darkness now.
“Do you believe in it anymore?” she asked. “I know how hard the years have been on us all, but you cannot have given up all hope?”
“I have not lost it all,” Raven told her. “But time after time, Nevar escapes and we are left to try again.”
“But we gain ground with every battle we fight,” protested Erina. “And Nevar knows this, we are getting closer to ousting him from Alaunus and this land. He knows that the time of reckoning approaches and he fights harder for it.”
Raven looked at her, a perplexed expression on his face. Erina couldn’t recall ever seeing such a look on his face before. Raven had always been wise and full of knowledge that she was still learning. It was rare that she understood something before he did. In any other circumstance, the idea of it would have made her smile.
“How is it we view the same situation so differently?” Raven asked, seemingly not expecting an answer. “All I see now is Nevar taking away more of what matters to me, and more brave warriors falling in the fight. How many did you lose on Alaunus?”
Erina’s words froze in her throat. She barely managed to swallow. Raven’s words stung like they never had before. She had never known him to be cruel.
“Nine,” it came out as a breath, not a word.
“Nine brave souls that I tutored and trained and now they are gone,” Raven sounded raw and when Erina looked up, she saw no blame in his eyes, only pain. “And Nevar’s dark magic snares them in a way that I cannot undo.”
Erina felt her heart tear a little more. Raven had lost warriors before, warriors that he could retrieve or send home after they had fallen into a demon’s grasp or failed a challenge. But he had never lost them like this, extinguished and unreachable.
“They knew the risks of the mission,” she reminded him. “And they yet chose to take up the challenge. You trained them well, Raven, and they will not be forgotten.”
The tortured silence that followed wreathed Raven in way that made it almost visible and told Erina of his still-smouldering anger. She got up and moved closer to her friend.
“But there is an ending for us, Raven. Nevar knows that you are stronger than he is, that you have the power to defeat him. So he prolongs the battle, and he hurts you, hurts us all, as he struggles to continue. We will lose more to him, you are right, but we will win. Our victory today only confirms this to me.”
She took a breath, not realising that she had needed one until then. Raven looked faintly amused, but he wasn’t frowning and that was welcome. Erina was always the one who could ease him out of the brooding spells that he more and more frequently sunk himself into.
“We cannot forget that,” she continued, her words urgent and firm. “If we do, then Nevar has won. The battle is already over.”
The warriors’ cheer from outside, loud enough to penetrate the stonewalls, broke through the intensity of the moment and Erina tore herself away from his examining gaze first. She sat back and reached for what was left of her bread. She and Raven had never argued about this before. They had kept the fight strong in her parents, the barons, and the people when Nevar had continued to close in around them on Alaunus. To see and hear Raven despairing produced a cold clenching in her chest.
When she looked up again, her mouth full of warm bread, she found that Raven’s eyes had remained on her. His stare was as intense and probing as it had always been, but there was a glimmer of admiration there that she had not been granted many times before.
“You do well to remind me,” Raven said, inclining his head as a rueful smile twisted his mouth.
As he breathed out, his shoulders straightened in a way that anyone else might have missed. The sorrow that had hung about him seemed to lessen. It was part of him now again, just as the same sorrow was part of Erina.
“It is something I have long taught my warriors, that even in the darkest night the stars still shine,” he breathed in again, as though it was a new day. “Thank you.”
He reached out and pressed his hand to hers. Erina remembered her last glimpse of him on Alaunus as his flesh left hers and he swirled what remained of his tattered cloak into feathers.
“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” she told him, a slight smile on her lips because it was the truth.
“And you,” he replied.
A loud clatter of footsteps heralded the warrior’s arrival and Erina squeezed Raven’s hand a final time before relinquishing it. He listened to more of the warriors’ stories and showed an interest that made their eyes shine. Eventually Cyrus talked of sleep and Erina helped him persuade the warriors to retire to the room that Cyrus had prepared for them. She had no doubt that they would sleep late into the day tomorrow.
Once downstairs again, she dropped a bundle of bedding at Raven’s feet with an arch of her eyebrows, and made up her own bed near the fire and kept her staff close. Though she heard no rustle of movement, Erina didn’t doubt that when she woke she would find the bedding unused and Raven stood at the window, staring towards Alaunus.
