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George Cooper had not been a lonely child, in spite of his mother having been his only family. She loved him with all her heart. She was attentive, and kind. She would tuck him in each night for bed and tell him stories of Rebekah Cooper. Rebekah Cooper, provosts guard, rescuer of children, stopper of thieves, savior of princes, abolisher of slavery. The terrier, the mastiff, the bloodhound.
He couldn’t be certain why he had felt compelled to steal his mother’s figurine of their esteemed ancestor. It was one of the first things he’d ever stolen. But, looking back, he was glad he had done it. Beka, as he affectionately nicknamed one of the most important commoners in Tortallan history, had been with him all his life in one way or another. Aside from the bedtime stories, Eleni would hold Rebekah up as an example to try and lead him down a good path. When he misbehaved, Eleni would have him meditate on his misbehaviors in the corner next to the figure. He hadn’t thought of her in years when he’d been caught thieving and his mother reminded him to not shame Rebekah. When he decided to leave his mother’s home it only made sense for him to take Beka with him.
***
He’d stolen the figurine shortly before he challenged for the Throne. It had been a sort of private joke, bringing a talisman of a provost’s guard to a fight to become King of the Thieves. Beka had brought him luck in that when the old King reached for the bulge in his tunic, thinking it was another knife. The move had left the old king open for George’s final, winning attack.
***
A buxom redhead approached George towards the end of his first week on the throne. He had decided to wear the tunic he’d fought the former king in, and he had just realized that the little figurine was still there when the redhead got his attention.
“Hello, little cousin,” the woman teased. George tilted his head and squinted at her.
“Why do I feel like you want me to recognize you?” He drawled, fingering the cat on the figurine. He felt the cat snap off of the figure.
“I should hope you do. I’m Rispah. I hear you’re avoiding claiming the current Queen of the Rogue.”
“Rispah… Not Rispah Cooper? The cousin who used to watch me for Ma?” George was shocked. He thought he’d remember a woman like this watching him. But studying her closely, he nodded. That was indeed, that Rispah.
“Now why do you care about the current Queen of the Rogue?” he asked, a slow crooked smile creeping up his face. Rispah could be very, very useful.
When the night was over, the cat was nowhere to be found.
***
Looking up at Alan of Trebond on his horse, entering Corus, George had felt a certain… well he hadn’t known what to call it at the time. But the feeling that the lad was important had him clenching his fists in his pockets. His fingers wrapped around a shape he had learned to identify as Beka. The figurine had begun to appear in his clothing without his realization.
***
The figure kept appearing in his hands, his pockets, in his saddlebags. Especially when Alan of Trebond came to call. He didn’t understand it, exactly, but things landed in his favor when the figurine was in his possession.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to enter by way of the door?” George held a knife to the intruders throat.
“George – it’s me! Alan!” The lad’s voice came out a bit strangely, and George turned the boy to look at him.
“So it is.” George smiled, “and what makes noble sprout break into the Rogue’s bedroom?”
“I need your help, I’ve got to see a healing woman right away.” There was an edge of desperation to his voice that gave George pause.
“A healin’ woman is it? You’ll have to give me more than that, lad.” George crossed his arms across his chest. “Why a woman? And why a city healer? The best in the land are in the palace…”
His eyes caught sight of Beka on the mantle behind Alan. His breath caught, but Alan was too busy steeling himself to notice.
“I’m not a boy. I’m a girl.” Alarm bells started ringing in his head, and he only vaguely remembers his reaction. Something about realizing he had unintentionally shown his naked body to a noble maiden. As he put on his shirt, his eyes on the figure of Beka. He’d sworn he tucked it in a drawer. But seeing the figure gave him an idea.
“I know just the lady- she was a priestess in the Temple of the Mother here in the City before she married, got trained there. She’s my own mother. She wouldn’t talk if you pried her jaws apart.”
***
When Alanna ran to him after fighting with Jonathon, he held her when she cried. He was simultaneously angry with his friend for hurting her, but pleased that she had come to him for comfort.
When Alanna finally told George how Jonathon had all but tried to drag her back to Corus, he was astounded at the man’s outright foolishness. He gripped the figurine in his pocket hard enough he felt the hard edges cutting into his palm. Well. Perhaps that wasn’t fair. But George could only be so charitable towards a man, even his own friend and king, who proposed to the woman he loved. If that could even be called a proposal. He removed Beka from his pocket as she continued to explain, absently placing it next to him on the terrace wall.
“I’m glad he showed you that nobles are a proud, ungrateful lot, thinkin’ of no one but themselves.” George grasped her shoulders and locked eyes with her.
“I’m a noble.” Alanna whispered, unable to look away from him.
“No. You’re my own sweet lass, and all the woman I could ever want.” He pulled her close and kissed her. She wiggled for a moment, like she was going to pull away, then Alanna relaxed into both his embrace and his kiss. He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, keeping her close.
“There's plenty more fish in the sea than Prince Jonathan," he told her softly. "And this particular fish loves you with all his crooked heart."
***
George had to admit that it was becoming almost unnerving how Beka Cooper would show up at important moments in his life. All the moments he held Alana close. When Myles of Olau offered to host his mother. When Alanna chose him, chose to marry him. Each time Alanna told him she was pregnant. When George met Daine, and then Tkaa. When George found Alianne and met her Nawat.
Eventually, George came to a realization. Every event in his life Beka was present for, somehow directly or indirectly, led to his family growing a little bigger, or a little closer.
He never told anyone about Beka. He was sure no one else noticed. And honestly, he wouldn’t want someone to come forward and admit to moving the figurine around. He liked the thought of his most morally upright ancestor helping to guide his path. She’d come from a big family herself. While George had started with only his Mother, under Beka Cooper’s watchful eye, it had grown to include a not only a wife and children, but cousins, King Jon, Daine, even a Basilisk.