This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Coyote_Havoc on 2024-09-06 22:16:03+00:00.

First Previous [Next]

“Put the women and children in and lower away.”

-Second Officer Charles Lightroller, RMS Titanic-

“Càit a bheil sinn a’ dol, a mhàthair?”

Sorcha tried to ignore the question, it wasn’t hers to answer anyway, but the thought lingered in her mind as well. ‘Where are we going?’ such bright young kids, not really understanding what had begun on Arran and looking to their parent for the answer. Mothers and Fathers hearing those innocent voices asking, and not having an answer themselves, trying to smile and placate their children.

“Na gabh dragh, tha a h-uile dad gu math.”

The simple comforts of an assuring lie. Nothing was going to be fine and there were many things to be worried about, but the children didn’t need to know that. At the very least, not right now. Once they were loaded and settled on the Merriweather and far from Arran. Then they could know the truth, a generation that would know the horror of war from a distance. There would still be pain, there would still be loss, there would still be tears shed, but they would survive.

“M’lady, the hold is full and everyone is strapped in.”

Sorcha nodded to her lady in waiting and watched as she exited the transport before toggling the switch to close and seal the ramp. Beyond the safety line hung around the evac point, she could see the stoic vistages of mother and fathers. Her people, putting their faith and their futures in her hands and she hardened her own heart to hide the tears she wanted to shed.

vessel secure, ready for orbital transport

Rising from the small port of Rathlin she could make out a storm coming from the east, great white anvils of vapor supported by dark angry shadows where the bluish-green ocean was battered and bruised grey. Lightning tore through the clouds like skeletal hands searching madly for a life to steal.

“Well isn’t that prophetic.” Sorcha commented dryly.

“Still a few miles out Ma’am. Nothing to worry about yet.” Her co-pilot replied.

“Nothing to worry about yet he says…”

Worry was all she knew since Robert and his Gallóglaigh had fought off a superior Dexian force a few days ago. She worried for her people who she had sworn to defend and protect. She worried about how her little island and the horrors that might be visited upon it. Most of all, she worried for that silly, shy young man who would stand in the face of any odds, and accept any losses as his own fault and burden to bear.

Sorcha pivoted her transport around until the standing stone was visible, a single massive needle of rock that seemed defiant to time, and the symbol of the people of Rathlin for centuries. Unyielding in the face of adversity, able to weather any storm and sea, proud and defiant to nature and human alike.

“Ma’am?”

Damn rock.

“Merriweather, this is transport oh-tree-seven-fife, in route with 137 souls aboard. Evacuation of Rathlin…”

It was rote to her, the words meaning nothing anymore as the battle raged in her heart. She could go, as a member of the Merriweather crew she had a duty to her ship and the opportunity to tend to the young, old and infirm aboard. Robert would want her safe and out of harms way as well. She could lead her people in exile and lobby for aid while the battle raged and she would be counted a dutiful leader of her people, a hero in the eyes of many.

And that damn rock would tormented her, even beyond her sight.

The Lady of Standing Stone and the rock of Rathlin, both resolute in the face of adversity. If she stayed she would fulfill her family legacy and cement herself in history forever, perhaps as the last of her line. She had rite and honor that she could call upon so Robert would never…

Damn that rock and damn that man!

She tried to push them both out of her thoughts as she moved to dock, but each stubbornly refused to leave. Both remained vigilant in the dark corners of her mind, silently demanding she choose between them. Both taunting her from a distance with the decision she had to make for herself and her people.

“And some think being of Nobility is easy.” She said.

“Ma’am?” The co-polit asked, clearly confused.

“And damn you too for being in the wrong place at the wrong time!” She said facing the poor man who had attracted her ire.

/////

The storm had just begun to let slip its fury as Sorcha landed in the small port, her own rage a match for the storm and both seemed to focus at thw solitary figure that stood stubbornly as both broke against him. Robert stood seemingly unaffected by either, though the rain had soaked his uniform. Sorcha could have climbed through the view screen to strangle the poor drenched man, and tore out of the transport in a rage, eager to give him a piece of her mind.

“FECK YOU!” She screamed over a peal of thunder. “I KNOW WHY YOUR HERE AND YOU CAN BLOODY WELL FECK OFF AGAIN! YOU DON’T OWN ME!”

“You’re right I don’t.” Robert replied calmly as the rain beat all around him. “I would have an easier time asking that big ass rock to move or demanding the storm to break.”

The storm seemed to hold back its fury if only gor him to speak, but she knew what he was going to say before he could finish. Those words that she knew would cut to the bone and leave her wounded and helpless. She didn’t need to hear them, they were written on his face, and struck her in the heart the moment he said them.

This silly, silly man. He would not ask her to go, he knew better. He would not ask her to stay either. He would simply strike her heart and force her hand. Damn him, and damn her own heart for giving itself to him.

“I only came to say I love you, I might not get another chance.”

Her feet moved of their own accord, her arms flung wide to embrace him and her face buried itself in his sodden chest so didn’t have to feel the tears fall from her eyes. For this moment all was good and pure and true. Regardless of the many battles she won over this man she always knew that one day the war would be lost.

“Marry me.”

“What? Right now?”

The damned fool soldier, and herself the fool who would follow him merrily into hell.

“Yes you stupid ass, right now!”

“But…”

“Just shut the fuck up and carry me into the chapel Robert, they know what to do from there.” Sorcha laughed.

Without another word, Robert picked her up and began to walk forward as Sorcha laughed like a woman gone mad.

“The other way,” she said in a giggle “the chapel is behind you.”