Archive of Our Own

Saturday was mail-day.

Of course, it was also time for training in the gym and with their dragon, with no professor in sight. And of course, there was a lot to study: history, geography, physics, military strategy, all the electives’ courses and the dreadful RSC.

But it was also mail-day, which is why first-years usually avoided upper-years in the morning. Not being able to keep in contact with their families and friends was bad enough, they didn’t need to see other riders receive news of their brothers’ latest bad grade or their sisters’ first boyfriends.

So, while first-years tended to eat breakfast early and then go about their day, the dining hall was less crowded at that hour.

Brennan was finishing his bowl of cereal, when Naolin rushed into the hall with some envelopes in hand.

“Bren, they’re here! Let’s go!” Tairn’s rider told the other second-year.

“Sit down and eat, Nao. The letters won’t go anywhere if we have breakfast first.” The young Sorrengail replied.

They picked up a little tradition a couple months before. They would meet in Brennan’s room (ah, let be thanked leaderships and their privilege of having larger quarters) and read their letters together, getting to know each other’s family through the words of their loved ones. Naolin was always too eager to know more about the famous Sorrengail family, and Brennan often had to remind him that having a correct and rich diet was necessary for their lives as riders.

Half an hour later, after a healthy breakfast and the ensuing activities (“For Gods’ sake, Nao, go brush your teeth!”), they found themselves cuddled on Brennan’s bed with their letters on their lap.

As always, Naolin received one letter. It was written by his sister, but it was actually from his whole family. They lived in a small village in the Lewellen territory of the Tyrrendor province, and his parents never learnt how to write or read.

Naolin explained to Brennan that reading his letter from Basgiath was the highlight of the week for his family back home, that they gathered around the table after the mail carrier left and his sister would read his letter out loud and then they would decide what to write back and she would transcribe it.

Brennan couldn’t think of anything more different from his own family.

Naolin started reading his letter out loud.

Mom and dad were worried about Threshing again but I explained them that you weren’t in danger this year. Mom asked me to congratulate you on your anniversary with Tairn and dad wanted to know if dragons celebrate anniversaries with their riders.

Please don’t worry about us. Everything is fine here: mom is always busy with her fabrics and dad works every day on Mr. Farrin’s land. You don’t need to send us your wage; we can make it on our own.

“That’s actually a good question, you know.” Was Brennan’s first comment. “Do dragons celebrate anniversaries with their riders?”

After a second of consultations with their dragons, the boys simultaneously asserted: “No!”

“Not really surprising, but a bit disappointing.” Naolin noted.

“Do you want to know what also isn’t surprising but disappointing? Sarah still hasn’t said what she’s up to yet. At this point, I just think that you will find out after you graduate from Basgiath.” Brennan chuckled.

“It’s not funny, Bren.” Naolin pouted. His little sister had finished school a few months before, she would have chosen something to do with her life by now. But no matter how many times Naolin would ask in his letter what she decided, no answer would come.

He told Brennan how many ideas she had… following in their mother’s footsteps, following their father's footsteps, working at the bakery not far from their home, working at the mail office, even leaving for the city and continue studying or looking for a job there.

She was still at home with their parents, so she clearly had decided not to leave the village, but what she was up to during her days remained an utter mystery.

“What do you think? Should I ask again in my next letter or it’s best to relent and just wait for her to tell me?” Naolin asked Brennan, studying his sister’s handwriting, maybe hoping for a secret message hidden in the ink.

“You could try telling her that if she doesn’t say it soon enough, your boyfriend is going to think that you have made her up.” Brennan teased. He left a quick kiss on Naolin’s cheek, before starting to open his letters.

He really appreciated the fact that Naolin told his family right away that he found a boyfriend in the Riders’ Quadrant, and he appreciated even more the fact that he didn’t pressure Brennan to do the same.

The truth was that Naolin’s family was loving and kind like simple people often are. After Naolin wrote to them, they told him that they were happy for him and hoped that he felt less alone so far away from home, and that they took care of each other in a place as dangerous as Basgiath. And they told him that they were proud of him. They always wrote that they’re proud of him.

Brennan’s family was different and he tried to make Naolin understand that. They have never had a real home, because they always moved from one outpost to the other because of their mother’s job. They were used to setbacks and emergencies and violence. They wouldn’t say that they’re happy for him: Mira would say that it was shame that he could not fool around anymore and that she won’t definitely settle for having fun with a single person anytime soon; Violet, sweet little Violet, would ask a thousand questions about the boyfriend in question, possibly including who his dragon is, what his signet is, if he likes history, if he knows the date of the battle of Ropchamp… maybe she would plainly ask if he thinks the guy deserves to be his boyfriend; his dad would probably say to be careful because the exchange of spit and other liquid is the first cause of diseases; and his mom… well, his mom, as always, would say nothing at all.

And it was fine; Brennan loved his family. But he couldn't say that he would say no to a ‘I’m proud of you’. Like one of those that he received frequently when he was a child and did something extraordinary, like completing a drawing of their family, or reading an entire sentence out loud or learning to ride a horse.

But those became increasingly rare after Violet’s birth, when his father needed all his energy to take care of a sick child and his mother became progressively colder and distant, crushed under the weight of guilt for the fever that cost her child her health.

He never blamed Violet, of course. It wasn’t her fault that she was sick or that she needed more attention. Brennan loved deeply his baby sister and would never trade her for a few simple words of appreciation.

That didn’t mean that he hadn’t missed them. Now, he didn’t miss them anymore, because Naolin never missed an occasion to tell him he was proud of him.

Brennan thought that the universe did something very good for him, because they really were well matched. Naolin told him he was proud of him, and Brennan reminded the other rider to eat, or of the deadlines for homework, or even to drink sometimes. Naolin brought a lot of untamed energy and a bit of tenderness to their partnership, Brennan answered with attentiveness and some organization. Where Naolin was impulsive and impetuous, Brennan was stubborn (like any Sorrengail worthy of that name) and sometimes too austere.

Even their intelligences weren’t identical, but complementary. “I have ideas, he has plans.” Naolin said after Squad battle a few months before, just after they secured their Squad’s win.

They matched; they worked; they made sense together.

Brennan grabbed the first of his three letters. It was kind of ridiculous that his family sent neatly packed letter when they kind of lived in the same building, but alas, Sorrengails could be strange.

Brennan could perfectly well imagine someone from his family (Violet probably), who gathered the messages written five minutes before on every Friday morning and then went to Chantara mail office to drop them off with the rest of the mail that traveled for weeks to come from every part of the kingdom.

When Brennan started to read, he could very well imagine his father’s voice talking to him.

How was your week? Here, the weather is fine, still quite sunny and not too cold.

“Oh, not the dad joke about the weather when you live in the same town!” Naolin chuckled. Brennan rolled his eyes (more at his dad than at Naolin) and ignored him.

Your sisters are well and they train and study diligently, but I would love for you to advise Mira to soften her training a little. I know she’s impatient about joining the Riders’ Quadrant but risking a serious wound is not worth it.

Violet and I are fine. We’re studying King Reginald’s period and Violet is finding the battle of Tannau particularly interesting. I swear, I think she will become even a better strategist than you.

Your mom is quite stressed about the next Senarium summit. Apparently, they demanded a review of military spending for the last couple of years. She won’t probably be able to write to you soon.

“He’s still trying to explain why mom doesn’t write.” Brennan commented, shaking his head. “As if it was the Senarium meeting… we all know she won’t write even after that.”

“I have to say, I find endlessly fascinating how your dad manages to make your mother look almost human.” Naolin says, peeking at Asher’s letter from behind Brennan’s shoulder.

His mother had never written to him, and she wasn’t going to. But it was fine, Brennan knew that being the General in charge of Basgiath, she couldn’t show any preferences among her students. Even if one of those students was her child.

He would just love for his father to stop pretending that it was something that it was not.

Brennan set his father’s letter aside and took the two he was more interested in. He loved his dad dearly, and he appreciated his commitment in writing every week, even when he didn’t really have anything to tell him. But his little sisters are the ones who told him how things really were at home and gave him the actual gossip.

Usually. Some other times, Mira used her letter just to be annoying, like a true little sister should.

Can you believe that major Goldhar said my jabs lack consistency? It’s utter bullshit! He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Anyway, how’s the riders’ quadrant? Your letters are always too vague, I hope you know I intend to fully take advantage of the fact that I have an older sibling who went through it (hopefully) alive.

“No greetings, as always.” Naolin laughed. “Are you ever going to tell her about the Book of Brennan or are you just going to surprise her the day before she crosses the Parapet?”

“First, that name is ridiculous, and I never agreed to it.” Brennan pretended to protest. “Second, I think I will surprise her. She doesn’t have the steadiness to take out a coherent guide out of some letters anyway, if I wrote to her something every week.” He said, somehow confirming what that major Goldhar was saying about Mira.

“Do you think she’s really taking her training too far, as your father said?” Naolin asked.

He had always been deeply interested in Brennan’s sisters. Especially because, if he was to be believed, Naolin resembled his sisters in a lot of things. Like Mira, he was fierce and spirited; like Violet, he was intelligent and caring.

“I know she is, that’s just how she’s made.” Brennan answered.

“So, will you write to her asking her to calm down like your father said?”

“Of course not, I don’t want her to train harder.” Brennan scoffed.

If there was a thing that the three Sorrengail siblings had in common, it was a deep stubbornness. Apparently, it manifested at its finest when someone told them they couldn’t do something.

“But don’t worry! I imagined it would happen at some point and I have a plan.”

“What are you going to do?” Naolin asked, equally curious and excited. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to write to Violet instead.” Brennan answered solemnly, but without clarifying further.

“What are you going to tell her?” Naolin probed.

Brennan ignored him and started reading Violet’s letter.

I loved your last letter! You absolutely have to tell me more about your squadmates.

Is Josie still unsure about her cross dive? What about George and his running landing? If Chris has such difficulty understanding the difference between the battle of Delle and the one of Dannemarie, then we’re lucky he’s a rider, instead of a scribe. You could still help him, though. You’ve always been good enough at history. Not like me, but I am sure that is enough for the Riders’ Quadrant.

Speaking of squadmates… did you finally tell Naolin about your crush on him? I would like some updates on that.

Brennan gaped. “Ah, what the hell?! I didn’t tell her about us!”

 “You always say she’s the cleverest of the family. She clearly wanted to prove that.” Naolin laughed about his boyfriend’s shock. “How are you going to answer that?”

“I’m not going to answer that!”

“You cannot not answer her!” Naolin reacted. “You would do the same as my sister! You could write to her that Naolin is too intelligent to need that explanation. He noticed the second time that we spoke.”

Brennan shook his head and rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea! You could let me write a post scriptum on your letter!” Naolin suggested.

“I will not!” Brennan objected, knowing very well that he will.

Dain is intensifying is training for the Riders’ Quadrant, so he reduced his lessons with me. I just hope he doesn’t forget how to speak Krovlish. He’s so good at that, but languages also need training.

How is Marbh? I hope he will let me see him without torching me when you graduate from the Quadrant. I studied this week that orange dragons are the most unpredictable, and I wouldn’t want him to turn me into ashes, but I would really like to take a closer look at an orange dragon.

“You can tell her that Marbh will definitely let her close to him. He is an uncommonly friendly orange dragon.” Naolin said, when Brennan finished reading Violet’s letter.

“He isn’t. He just doesn’t do anything to you because he’s afraid of Tairn.” Brennan argued, ignoring his dragon’s outrage.

§§§§

Not long after, Brennan was signing the letter for his younger sister.

I’m sure Marbh will let you look at him and stay calm: he won’t hurt you if I’m with you.

Can you do something for me? Dad says Mira is training too hard and risks an injury. Can you ask her to teach you how to throw daggers? You can tell her that you want a way to defend yourself. And maybe you could pretend not to be great at it… drag it along for a bit…