theproblemwithstardust:

Written for the Laura Hale Appreciation Week Day 3: Hale Twins

On AO3

Excited yells ring out across the castle lawn. Laura sighs.
She doesn’t know why she didn’t think to check the training fields first.

Sure enough, Captain Stiles Stilinski is in the middle of a
knot of people, his dagger a barely visible blur. His opponent is one of their
newer recruits, probably only a member of the Guard for six months or so. She
is unpolished but brutal in her attacks. Stiles is grinning, excited by the
recruit’s progress.

The fight lasts longer than most. Stiles keeps pace with
his trainee, testing her reactions to his strikes and occasionally calling out
advice. Eventually, the recruit stumbles over her botched footwork and goes
crashing to the ground.

Shouts of encouragement echo across the field as Laura
surveys the gathered crowd, eyes landing on her target. Derek gets a pinched
look on his face as Stiles pulls off his glove to offer the girl a hand up. Laura
wants to hit him with a brick. The pining got old years ago.

Instead, she lays a hand on his shoulder. “Derek. I’ve been
looking for you.”

“I am sorry, sister.” He tears his eyes from where Stiles
is walking the new recruit through the footwork again. “What is it you
require?”

Laura rolls her eyes at his formal speech. “We’ve had a
message from Argent.”

Derek sucks in a breath. News from Argent was never good.

“Gerard wants war.” It isn’t a new declaration, but this
time it seems as though they are going to have to amass an army to keep the
tyrant from marching on Hale.

There is a shout from behind and they turn in time to see
the new recruit tackle Stiles to the ground. Derek looks away. “Let’s take this
inside.”

Biting her tongue, Laura follows her twin back to the
castle. The Argents are the reason Derek hasn’t made a move on Stiles. Not a
day goes by when Laura doesn’t imagine tearing Princess Katherine limb from
limb.

Her advisors are already gathered in the war room. Lady
Martin is engaged in a heated debate with Lord Deaton while General Boyd looks
on. The room goes silent when they register the presence of their queen.

Laura drops down into the seat at the head of the table,
arranging her skirts around her feet. “Carry on, Lady Martin.”

Lydia tosses her coppery curls over her shoulder and
straightens in her chair. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I am just uncomfortable
with the accusations Lord Deaton has made.”

“Lady Allison is still an Argent.” Deaton states calmly,
immune to Lydia’s theatrics.

“She is my wife.”

Laura sighs. It is an old argument. “Lord Deaton, we are
all aware that Lady Allison is nothing but honorable. She defected after her
aunt’s atrocities and has been a true friend to Hale.”

“Then you would not mind if she was brought into the meeting?”

Laura hesitates. Being friendly with an Argent is one
thing, inviting them into a war meeting is completely different.

“Bring her in.” Derek had been so quiet, Laura forgot he
was even in the room.

She turns toward her twin, lips pressed in a thin line.
“Are you sure?” After all, he had been the one most affected by the Argent’s
betrayal.

Derek’s answering nod is firm, leaving no room for
argument. Lydia rises from the table. “Good. She’s waiting outside.”

Sure enough, Lydia opens the door and pulls her wife into
the room. Allison looks around the table, taking stock of everyone in
attendance and probably cataloging the entrances and exits as well. Once a
soldier, always a soldier. Laura desperately hopes they don’t all live to
regret this.

Laura sweeps to her feet. “Lady Allison.”

Allison drops into a curtsey, a paper gripped tightly in
her hand. “Your Majesty.”

“We assume you have news from Argent.” Derek cuts through
the rising tension in the room.

Allison wordlessly hands the letter in her hand to Laura,
who scans the words. “Your father seeks to take the throne of Argent?”

“He does, you majesty.”

Laura folds the letter back along its creases, tapping it
on the chair in front of her. “He wishes for Hale’s blessing.”

“He does, your majesty.” Allison repeats.

Staring at the maps and documents laid out on the table,
Laura can already think of a hundred ways this could go wrong. She snaps her
gaze to Boyd. “How long will it take our forces to reach full strength?”

“Three weeks, your majesty.” Boyd slides a page loose from
the mess of papers on the table. On it, she can see numbers and calculations
sketched out in Boyd’s neat hand.

She looks at the map. Three weeks to mobilize and at least
two to reach Argent. Gerard will know what they are planning long before they
can assemble a force large enough to do damage.

“You could send the Guard.” Lydia proposes, in a way that
suggests she has put a significant amount of thought into it.

Laura can see the sense in the idea. The Guard is
technically a small army unto itself. However, guardsmen have always been the
peacekeepers of Hale. To send them into battle is a ludicrous notion. She looks
at the numbers and the map again.

“Is Prince Christopher ready?” It’s written in the letter,
but Laura wants to hear it confirmed.

Allison inclines her head. “He is waiting on what happens
here.”

“You can’t possibly be entertaining this plan.” Derek’s
blank exterior is starting to crack.

“I am.” Laura sets Boyd’s paperwork back on the table. “If
we send the Guard now, they can strike while Argent is unaware.”

“They are not soldiers.” Which is true. Guardsmen are
trained in street fighting, using daggers and their own bodies to disarm and
neutralize an opponent. It is effective in keeping the crime rate low across
Hale, but on the battlefield…

Laura sinks back down into her seat, feeling the weight of
the kingdom on her shoulders. “I know, Derek. But they are the best we have.”

She watches her twin’s face go hard. If he had been born
five minutes earlier, this mess would be his to deal with. Almost as soon as
the thought works itself free, Laura crushes it. She wouldn’t wish her position
on anyone. Least of all Derek.

Deaton, who had remained silent for the proceedings finally
speaks. “Perhaps the Captain of the Guard would be better suited to answer this
question.”

A knock sounds at the door. Lydia smirks. “I’ve already
arranged for him to meet us here.”

Laura barely refrains from scrubbing a hand over her face.
Hopefully Lydia never reaches the point where she becomes bored enough to
consider world domination. It is clear none of them would stand a chance.

The door swings open but Laura doesn’t rise from her seat.
“Captain Stilinski.”

Stiles observes the room in the same way Allison had when
she arrived. Perhaps soldiers and guardsmen aren’t so different after all.
Lydia clears her throat, reminding him to bow.

“Your Majesty.”

Laura waves him off. “None of that, Stiles. If we are going
to have this conversation, we are going to have it as equals.”

She gestures at the chair beside her and Stiles takes it,
slouching a little and folding his arms across his chest.

“Chris Argent has requested our assistance in overthrowing
his father.”

Stiles immediately straightens in his seat. “And you want
to send the Guard.”

“Got it in one.” Perhaps he and Lydia can join forces. Then
even the gods would be forced to kneel before them.

Boyd interrupts the rapid deterioration of her thoughts. “I
am more than happy to discuss strategies and training exercises, Captain.”

“I doubt we’ll have time for that, but the thought is
appreciated.” Stiles looks to Allison. “One week?”

The two participate in a rapid-fire exchange consisting of
minute facial expressions and aborted hand gestures. Laura is reminded that
Allison spent a lot of time with Stiles’ stepbrother before the two ended up
marrying different people. Apparently she and Stiles had come out of the
experience as close friends.

After a few seconds, Stiles concedes. “We’ll be ready to
march in three days’ time.”

Allison nods. “I will let my father know to expect three
hundred men.”

“Three hundred men? That’s our entire Guard.” Derek sounds
furious. Laura knows the anger conceals his concern, but Stiles frowns at the
outburst.

“We will just instate the trainees early. The senior
guardsmen will probably remain behind.” He twirls a long quill through his
fingers, running the figures in his head. “That will leave you with a force
about seventy, maybe eighty strong.”

He tips his head back to look at Lydia. “Do you reckon my
father will come out of retirement?”

Lydia sighs and rescues the quill from his hands. “Yes,
Stiles. I do.”

“I’ll start putting the word out then.” Stiles gets to his
feet.

Boyd rises as well. “I can help.”

After the door closes behind them, Lydia shakes her head.
“Boyd is just concerned for his betrothed.”

“Erica?” Laura knows the name, but they’ve never had the
opportunity to meet. She had started in the army, but left so she could court
Boyd properly.

Allison makes an affirmative noise. “She’s Stiles’ protégé,
they were sparring this afternoon.”

Laura thinks back to the wild blonde who went toe-to-toe
with the captain. She certainly seems ready to become a guardsman.

—

Laura and her siblings are just returning from visiting the
troops when they hear the shouts. Three weeks have passed since the Guard left
and their meeting with Boyd confirmed that the army should be ready to march on
the morrow.

It takes a few moments for the words become discernable.
“Rider!”

Sure enough, there is a horse galloping their way, its
rider slumped low over its neck. The archers rush to set up, but Erica, who has
appointed herself as Laura’s personal guard, waves them off. It is clear the
man is barely hanging on.

He slides off the horse, staggering as his feet hit the
ground. Laura stares. “Isaac?”

The guardsman gathers the strength to nod. He is
almost unrecognizable beneath the bruising and bloodstains. Cora is down the steps immediately, flinging herself onto
him. Isaac winces, but holds her so tightly Laura worries she may break.

“You come with news?” Dread knots Laura’s stomach. She can
almost feel Derek holding his breath behind her.

Cora moves to help Isaac stand. He closes his eyes, like
he’s trying to hide from the memories. “They’re dead.”

“Who?” Laura prompts, as gently as she can.

“The Guard.”

Erica gasps, “what?” at the same time Derek asks, “all of
them?”

“There was a traitor. Gerard slit his throat before
ordering the rest of us killed.” Cora tightens her hold around his waist. “He
left me alive to send a message.”

Laura can guess what the message is. “They’re coming for
us?”

“Yes. And they have Prince Christopher and his men.”

Laura turns to Boyd. “How much time do we need?”

“It’s two weeks to reach the border.” They’d discussed the
logistics in detail not even and hour ago.

“Damnit.”

Then the castle door bangs open behind them. Lydia takes
one look at Isaac and freezes. “Allison?” Her voice barely wavers.

Isaac shrugs, still leaning heavily on Cora.

Lydia gives a sharp nod before turning on her heel and
calling out to a page, “Get the healer and have her meet us in the war room.”
Laura wishes she could compartmentalize so quickly and so coldly.

The group settles into their respective seats, the
atmosphere heavy. Derek hasn’t spoken and Laura’s heart aches for her twin. But
they don’t have time to mourn yet.

Erica speaks first. “We can’t stretch the Guard any more
than it already is.”

“I
may know someone who can help.”

Laura
jumps at Deaton’s voice. She hadn’t even registered him entering the room. “Who?”

“The Vipers.”

Boyd looks up, an eyebrow raised. “The mercenaries?”

“Yes.” Deaton says, unbothered by the general’s skepticism.
“This does appear to match their skill set.”

Laura fidgets with the maps on the table in front of her
before remembering that she’s the queen. She cannot show weakness right now. Squaring
her shoulders, she makes the decision.

“Bring me their leader.”

In less than three hours, the person the Guard has spent
years hunting is standing before her in the war room. She’s younger than Laura
expected, and very beautiful. Wicked scars run down her throat and disappear
under her collar. Laura keeps finding her gaze drawn to her eyes.

The woman bows, “Your majesty.”

“Viper.” Laura keeps her voice cold and aloof.

The mercenary smirks at her. “Perhaps.”

Laura gives herself a mental shake. It must be the stress
getting to her. Now is not the time to get caught up in the eyes of a former
enemy. “Deaton has informed you of the plan?”

“He has.”

“What is it you desire in compensation?” The Vipers are
known for their steep prices.

“Hale gives us amnesty. A place to live. A chance to work.”
She smiles wryly. “We aren’t all bad people.”

It’s
a complicated request, but not undoable. “And you’re
willing to die for Hale?”

The woman’s eyes harden. “We’re mercenaries, we die for the
job.”

Laura nods. She doesn’t expect more than that. “Is anyone
opposed?”

Silence presses down around the table. Derek still looks dazed
and Cora’s mind is probably down in the medical wing with her paramour.

Lydia clears her throat. “I am in favor.”

“If they cause any trouble, I will see they are persecuted
to the extent of our laws.” Erica says, staring down the Viper.

Boyd nods along with Erica. “The same for me. And if your
people work well with my people, they may have a place in the ranks.”

“Well, if no one is opposed…” Deaton trails off.

Laura holds out her hand. “You have a deal.”

The mercenary takes it and bows to her again. “I will leave
immediately.”

After a moment of hesitation, Laura follows her out into
the hall. “Viper.”

She turns, that half-smirk back on her lips. “If I’m going
to die for you, you could at least call me by my name.”

“I
don’t know it.” Laura admits, voice low.

The
other woman flashes her a real smile and Laura’s heart skips in her chest. “People
call me Braeden.”

“Then
may luck and good fortune go with you, Braeden.”

—

Preparing for war is no small feat. Laura is kept up to
date by a constant stream of correspondence from the front. Most of the letters
come from Boyd, but she also receives a few from his subordinates. They are
making good time and only encountered a single Argent scout during their first
week.

Laura is beyond stressed. She barely sleeps, spending all
of her time working on strategy with Lydia and Deaton. They will need to start
rationing foodstuffs and other resources. The army is going to need supplies
and winter will be upon them soon.

After a week, Isaac recovers enough to leave the medical
wing. The very first thing he does is request permission to ask for Cora’s
hand. Laura grants it whole-heartedly.

Erica becomes indispensable and spends a lot of time
briefing Laura. She uses the new Guard to keep the pulse of the kingdom. In a
way it is kind of disturbing, like Laura is spying on her own people, but
knowing the thoughts of the common folk is so damn useful.

On one such night they are sitting by the fire in Laura’s
chambers. Laura has her hair down and is listening to a report on the fishing
industry. It is just bizarre enough to take her mind off of worrying.

There is a knock at the door. Erica opens it to reveal a
page. “A message for the queen.”

Laura unrolls the folded parchment.

The Argent throne is secure – His Majesty, King Christopher
Argent

She stares at the words, then looks up at Erica in
disbelief. Laura passes the paper over. Erica smooths it on her legging-covered
thigh.

“They did it.” She sounds choked up and Laura’s heart
breaks a little. She reaches over and pulls her in for a hug. Laura kicks
herself for not thinking about how many mentors and friends she must have lost.
She knows how close Erica and the Captain were.

After a moment, she pulls away and smooths the hair back
from Erica’s forehead, just like she would for Cora. “Let’s call a meeting.”

The
news lifts everyone’s spirits. Even Lydia’s façade cracks enough for her to
look hopeful.

It is an agonizing wait that takes well over a week. Then
the wounded come flooding in. There are Vipers, guardsmen, and a few soldiers.
Apparently, the arrival of the mercenaries had given the prisoners just enough
time to escape. Because for some fucked up reason, Gerard had decided to kill
them off slowly, whenever the mood struck.

With the arrival of the Vipers comes the issue of what to
do with them. Derek has been working on a plan to get them placed on farms, as
fishermen, or as hard laborers. According to a letter Erica received from Boyd,
a great many want to join the Guard after having fought with the escaped
prisoners.

Derek is halfway through a list of possible employment
opportunities when there is a scuffle at the door. After it bangs open, Stiles is
framed in the doorway, mostly supported by Allison. Braeden stands close
behind.

Lydia jumps to her feet so fast, she knocks over her chair.
It isn’t nearly as dramatic as Cora flinging herself on Isaac, but Lydia is far
too composed for that. Luckily, Braeden is there to catch Stiles as Allison is
tugged away by her wife.

The two stand there for a moment, before Erica is on them.
She tackles Stiles in a hug and they both end up in a heap on the floor. She’s
careful to cushion his fall. “Don’t ever do that to me again, you asshole.”

Stiles huffs a laugh. “Come on, the medics told me you did
great.” There is a shadow in his eyes and he looks beyond exhausted, but his
smile is still there.

Laura gets distracted from her observations by Braeden, who
looks up from where she was checking on Stiles. She smiles and Laura gets that
fluttering feeling again.

“As per our agreement,” Deaton interrupts their wordless
exchange, “Derek has been working on securing positions for your people.”

Braeden turns to Derek. “Thank you for your assistance.”
She sounds sincere.

“It was a privilege to help.” Derek says, words coming out
stilted.

Boyd drags Erica off of Stiles and helps him to his feet.
“Good to have you back, Captain.”

“It’s
good to be back.” He braces himself on the table.

Laura
isn’t sure where he’s hurt, but it looks like he’s favoring a leg. Which
probably means he and Allison staged a dramatic escape to get away from the
medics.

“Derek.” Stiles’ voice is more fragile than Laura’s ever
heard. “Come on. Please look at me.” His voice breaks a little.

So Derek does. He stares at him like he’s trying to burn
the image into his retinas forever.

Stiles lets go of the table and tries to limp forward on
his own. Derek is by his side in an instant, wrapping his arms tight around him
and burying his face in his neck.

Stiles leans even further into him and murmurs. “It’s okay.
It’s okay. I’m here. I’m always going to come back to you.”

Lydia clears her throat, startling everyone but Stiles and
Derek, who are lost to the world for the moment. She jerks her head toward the
door. They pile out into the hallway and Laura’s eyes meet Braeden’s.

She waits until everyone trickles away but the two of them.
“Thank you for everything that you did.”

Braeden brushes off the recognition. “It was a job. I got
compensated.”

“Still. I appreciate it.” Laura drops her gaze, feeling
wrong-footed. “And I’m glad you returned safe.”

“Your concern is touching, your majesty.”

“Please, call me Laura.”

The smile she gets in return is worth the embarrassment of
the blush staining her cheeks. She is a queen, for fucks sake.

But Braeden looks enchanted. “Well then, it was a pleasure.
Laura.”