Chapter Text
Madame Darkholme is of course, Moira’s charge and her cause, but at times she is her curse, also. As soon as she heard that her favourite of the Lady’s Swords had been assigned to a routine intelligence patrol to Westchester, she was pestering her, and Erik, the commander of the mission, to find her Champion on it.
“You have a champion, milady.” Erik pointed out. “The Lord Shaw serves your father's realm well.” He clamped his mouth shut then, refusing to comment on Shaw’s future aspirations to serve House Darkholme, in Raven’s royal self, somewhat more intimately, when the girl came of age, and Queen. Erik’s rivalry with Lord Shaw is well known, if not the cause of it.
“That he does.” Raven said. The girl- a true shifter, like the best of her House- already knows. Moira has had charge of her safety since her mother died and she returned from the Kingdom of Westchester. Moira’s chosen to interpret this somewhat more widely than most realise. Raven’s education in politics, espionage and statecraft is only the half of it.
“But he is not my choice, not when I already appointed one.” The girl is close to pouting now. Moira and Erik both sigh. They’ve heard this one before. They are some of the few who know the details of the story of Raven’s long ago rescue and concealment.
“Milady… Raven. You were six. I don’t think it counts.” Moira says, gently.
“He saved my life! The life of the Lady of G-“
“And you’re not even sure of his name.” Erik cuts in. Raven eyes him with hostility. “Or his description, given that the man you want us to seek and reward for sheltering you was a child a few years older than you.” Raven’s chin shoots up, and her golden yellow eyes flash.
“I gave him my token.” She says, firmly. “Find that, and you’ll find him. Genosha… I owe him a debt.” She doesn’t say more. Both her Swords know the tale. The tale of a royal visitation to a peaceful fellow realm, that ended in near tragedy, with the Queen dead, and her daughter missing for a month.
The Queen had been murdered, along with her companions. Raven had run. Barely able to control her shifting then, she had grabbed onto the form of a nearby child, and fled the hired thugs with their knives, into the stews of Westchester’s capital city, where armed watchmen scarely dared to enter. From which she had emerged, when her father, along with his young friend, Lord Shaw, had come seeking vengeance for her death. It had been a month later, and Raven had been completely unharmed, thanks to the help of a young lad. A nameless boy, who had never come forward to claim the rewards offered by Shaw and her father.
“Assuming he’s kept your device, and assuming we’re able to find it without blowing away our cover as honest traders.” Erik’s voice is level, calm. He knows Genosha’s heir is practical, when she must be.
“Yes. If you can.” She nods, clipped and firm. “Find him… I want to ask him...” She trails off. Erik raises a polite eyebrow.
“To be your Champion.” Moira finishes for her. Raven blushes, purpling up. Erik ducks his head to hide a smile. His smiles have had unexpectedly poor receptions before now.
“Well, possibly. He was a child, he might have grown up into someone else, someone not suitable, but he did say he would.”
“That’s why you offered him your token.” Moira says, gently.
“It was just a horse ornament, really. I didn’t have anything else to give him.”
“Why Champion and not husband?” Erik demands, suddenly. Raven frowns. She bites off her words crisply.
“My Swords, I’m not stupid. I’m to be Queen. My marriage is an act of duty I owe to my country. It’s far too large a thing to be thrown to a childhood rescuer, like some romantic reward in a tale. The Queen’s Champion can be a mere title, one that fits a pretty story. A gesture, a token.”
Wordlessly, Erik bows. He understands duty, and sacrifices that cost childish dreams. And, perhaps, he respects the girls’ firm grip on her self; she’s not foolish, even if the task she’s set them is likely impossible.
Moira sighs. And curtsies. She understands, too. Raven's eyes light up.