Chapter Text
Tally never stopped dreaming. She had had wild fantasies as a child continuing into her teens before settling into a stubborn optimism that made her unit double take at times. But that wasn’t what she was talking about right now.
No, Tally Craven continually dreamt Sarah Alder’s memories. Ever since the unbiddy-ing she was placed within battles long past, horrors long forgotten by anyone else. She jumped from the Salem Witch Trials to the Revolution to the creation of the Cession to the start of the Spree and everything in between. Even Izadora with all her knowledge and determination could only mute the connection not excise it from the Cadet completely.
The Knower was grateful for the slight numbness despite the sense of loss. Goddess knows she had woken up with enough physical wounds to last a lifetime. Explaining how she had gotten stabbed at 0330 in her own bed was the absolute worst. Especially because while Abigail carried her to the infirmary, Rae had gotten Alder. The gossip about the General showing up to check on a first year war college cadet had sparked so many rumors. Too many rumors.
Why were soldiers incorrigible gossips?
The thought almost derailed her plans but Tally was on a mission. Not officially sanctioned, but it was probably going to be the most important mission of her life. It was the Yule of her fourth and final year of war college and with it came the culmination of three years of planning and stressing and hoping. Or it would, if she managed to pull off this first step.
Step One: Rig Secret Santa.
Which was truly a momentous task. It required something of Tally she had never mastered. Subtlety. Which really made step one a multi-part step. The most complex of the entire three part plan. Well, the most intricate step that she hadn’t already done most of the work for already.
That was why she was approaching an expert. A master at the deadpan, give-nothing-away military bearing, Captain Quartermaine could definitely help Tally with this. But first the Knower had to not only ask but explain . There was a certain amount of terror trying to do that with her former drill sergeant. So when Tally knocked on her office door, she was practically vibrating out of her own skin.
“Enter.” Came Anacostia’s smooth voice. At least she didn’t sound upset. Yet. She wasn’t upset yet.
And with that comforting thought, Tally entered the office before she could run screaming back to NorCal.
Anacostia was doing paperwork. Tally thought she sensed a flash of relief in the woman.
“On time, as always. Or at least when it suits you,” the Captain teased. “What can I do for you Craven?”
Tally gulped loudly. Here it was. Moment of truth. She clasped her sketchbook in her hands behind her back as she stood at attention. “I was wondering if I could get your help with something?”
The scarred brow rose above amused eyes. A smile danced on her lips. “That was obvious when you booked an appointment, Craven. Not sure what you’d need from me now though. Sounds like you and your unit are all grown up and ready to conquer war college. I’m impressed.”
The redhead gave a brilliant grin at the compliment before sobering much faster than she normally would. “I’d like your help with Secret Santa.”
“We haven’t finished setting that up this year?” Anacostia’s brow was furrowed with confusion.
“I know but I need you to help me rig it.”
“ What?” It was the same tone of voice that her former drill sergeant had used to ask, what haven’t you done so far in the past.
“I need your help to make sure I get a specific person.” Tally rushed to explain.
“Craven, I’m sorry but — ” Anacostia tried to speak over her but the Knower was determined.
“I need to get Alder.” She interrupted with a rush.
“Explain.” The Captain looked three seconds from throwing Tally out on her head and then assigning extra drills until she dropped.
“Well, it all started when the biddy link didn’t fade…” Tally said, laying her sketchbook on Anacostia’s desk.
Tally woke with a scream on her lips, falling from her bed onto the cold floor. Her sweat made her tank top stick to her skin. She was just grateful as she took stock that her pains were normal bruises and not the hot flare of pain from a scourge she had felt in the dream. The lack of blood was also a relief.
“Tals? Are you okay?” Raelle was the one to ask but the redhead could feel Abigail crouching on her other side. It had become...a frighteningly common occurrence for her to rouse her sisters with her cries.
At least this time she wouldn’t have to go to the infirmary. Or drag General Alder out of bed. That hadn’t been a fun time. Tally thought she might prefer being stabbed again. After that, Alder had demanded that Izadora take more extreme methods to finish severing the link.
Tally understood, at least a little. Every night she understood more. Her viewing Alder’s memories was a security risk. But the General had allowed it for a time, until it had become more dangerous to do nothing than it was to act. Not that the cadet could do anything if she disagreed with her superiors.
So she drank every vile concoction the head Necro had given her, with minimal complaints. She had even honestly answered that the dreams hadn’t gone away. The first six times. But after the seventh time, something had shifted. Tally was no longer physically harmed in the dreams.
Now, not looking forward to the dozenth experiment — she didn’t join the army to become a lab rat — Tally made a decision in the dark of night.
“Nothing more than I would’ve gotten in an ordinary tumble from my sheets.” She said softly, leaning against Abigail. The Bellweather was always a furnace. It was comforting.
“Another nightmare?” The blaster asked, carding her fingers through Tally’s hair. The knower nodded.
“What was it this time?” Raelle asked, curious. Even if she didn’t like history as much as Tally did, she found it fascinating. To relive Sarah Alder’s experiences? All of them were very aware that people would kill for that information. So outside the dorm, and Izadora’s office, it became yet another secret to keep.
“The World War, I think. I didn’t know Alder fought on the front lines.” Tally laced her fingers through Rae’s, needing something to fidget with.
The Bellweather gave a thoughtful hum. “It’s not a surprise though. Alder has never been a lead from the back kind of person.”
“No,” Tally agreed. “She hasn’t.”
Her sisters exchanged glances over her head. Tally didn’t need to be a knower to realize that. Then, Rae asked, “The dreams haven’t stopped?”
The redhead took a deep breath. “No. And guys—I don’t think I can keep going to Izadora.”
“Why not?” Abigail wasn’t disagreeing, simply trying to coax out more information. Tally sank deeper into her side.
“Because, the rumors about how I’m treated are already...too much.” She swallowed back the pain that so many of her sisters believed she was trying to sleep her way to the top. It couldn’t be further from the truth. If Tally could get a full night’s sleep, she would be content to be a private until the day she died.
Rest didn’t seem to be in the cards for her though, so Tally had decided that muting the rumors would be enough.
Raelle played devil’s advocate. “If you need help though Tals, that’s more important than any rumors.”
“I know, but I don’t think any of them know how to help me.” Tally admitted. “I didn’t tell you guys, because I wasn’t supposed to hear it either but…”
Her unit gave her a moment before Abigail prompted. “But?”
“I told you how Alder said it was a ‘rare opportunity’ that she offered me, right? To stop being a biddy?”
“Yeah, though considering it’s not common knowledge it can even be done that makes sense.” Rae offered.
“How often do you think it’s happened before?” Tally inquired, curious what her sisters thought.
“I mean, probably a handful?” Rae guessed.
“No more than a dozen,” Abigail nodded along thoughtfully.
“Try never.”
Tally was dislodged from her comfortable position on Abigail’s shoulder when she startled. The Bellweather’s eyes were wider than the Atlantic.
“Never?” she choked out.
“Never.” Tally confirmed.
“How fucking dangerous was unlinking you then?” Raelle asked, angry in each clipped word.
The redhead winced. “Fairly dangerous, I think. They knew how...they had just...never had a reason to try, before. Well, before me.”
Her sisters were staring at her in horror and also pride. Horror, because that sounded perilous. Pride, because—well, of course their sister would be the first. Of course Tally was deemed worthy of the risk. Of course she was.
“How did you find out, if they didn’t tell you?” Abigail pulled Tally back into her side, knowing her sister preferred close contact. Raelle crowded in on her other side.
“I overheard it.”
“And didn’t say anything?”
“Didn’t seem worth it.” Tally said, yawning all the while.
“So, you think it’s worth pretending that Izadora’s latest batch of bullshit was successful. Since continuing to receive special treatment for no reason doesn’t seem worth it to you.” Rae summed up, hitting the nail quite accurately on the head.
“Pretty much.” Tally agreed, already feeling the pull of sleep again. “I don’t get hurt anymore and I don’t stay awake all night worrying about another one. I think that’s about as good as I’m going to get.”
The silence of the night enveloped them while her sisters debated internally. Tally was fine with that. This was a decision they had to make together. They would all be lying to the brass. They would all be up for court-martial if it ever came out.
“Alright, Tally. We’ll do this your way. But I have conditions.” Abigail broke the silence with the boldness of a Bellweather. The redhead expected nothing less.
“Same.” Rae agreed.
Tally blinked the sleep from her eyes. Or tried to. “What are they?”
“You are honest with us. Lie to everyone else as much as you want—or can—but you never lie about this to us.”
“Don’t think I could, not while we still bunk together.”
Raelle interrupted before Abigail could speak. “You let me check you every morning.”
“That seems a little—”
“Every. Morning. Craven.”
“Alright, fine.” Tally paused for a moment. When they said nothing she asked, “Anything else?”
Her sisters glanced at each other, then Raelle said, “You’re gonna keep a journal.”
“Why?” The redhead didn’t understand the reasoning for that. Or why both her sisters seemed in sync without saying anything. Meaning that they had discussed this beforehand.
“Because if we miss something important, I have a feeling that knowing exactly what’s going on with you could save your life.” The fixer of their unit was dead serious. She always was, when it came to ensuring their safety.
“Do those three things, and we’ll commit treason for you.” The Bellweather commanded.
“Treason is a little extreme?” Tally offered weakly.
“I mean, lying to a superior officer is a criminal offence, Tals. We’re not asking much, considering that honestly.” Abigail mused, a strange mix of cheer and horror.
Tally knew she wouldn’t get a better offer than this. So she smiled, climbing into Abigail’s bed. “Agree to your terms. But I’m sleeping with you tonight Abs.”
The other soldier sighed, but didn’t object. The Bellweather Unit settled in to catch a few more hours of sleep before morning came. The darkness had only been broken by the strong light of a full moon.
The next day, Tally lied to Izadora. “Yes ma’am. No dreams at all last night.”
That night, she began journaling in the notebook Abigail had warded. She never told her sisters that while she did write, she began augmenting her thoughts with sketches. Days turned to months turned to years until Raelle and Abigail had all but forgotten why Tally always seemed to have a notebook in the mornings and evenings. They didn’t even notice when it switched from lined paper to perfectly blank sheaves of brilliant white.
The knower may have stopped writing what she saw. But she never stopped drawing it. Or at least, she never stopped drawing the people. Faces in places long gone, forgotten even by the woman whose memories Tally relived in the dark of night.
Sketchbook after sketchbook of faces, people Sarah Alder cared for and remembered and grieved and lost. First soldiers, then biddies—all of them, all 211 of the women who had died to give her more time — and then...then Tally saw something that she was certain would get her murdered. Alder was extremely private.
And her cadet-turned-biddy-then-cadet-again may have gotten an honor that no one else had ever been offered. But Tally didn’t think Alder would forgive her for witnessing Hannah’s hanging. Or her mother’s drowning. Or her father’s pressing.
She never drew them when they died. But staring down at the Alder family—minus one—with happy smiles made Tally wonder if what she had captured was somehow worse.
Because Sarah Alder had nothing to remember these people by. Tally wondered if the General had forgotten how they smiled, even; if their deaths were all that was left of Elizabeth, James, and Hannah Alder to her.
Tally hadn’t known it yet, but that thought would lead her to her former drill-sergeant’s office. Admitting to a court-martial worthy offence. The woman looked at her like she was insane. She could understand the feeling
“Craven. It’s barely November. Also why would you tell me any of this? ” Anacostia looked like she desperately needed a drink. At 0900 on a Saturday.
“Because I need to give Alder something, but I can’t...She can’t know it’s me.” Tally said, motioning to the sketchbook.
“I’m sure that whatever terrible drawings aren’t worth the punishment you’ve just earned—”
“Please. I’ll go to the Sands everyday until I graduate. Just look at the sketchbook, ma’am.” Tally begged. It would be worth it, suffering through a hell usually saved for basic cadets, if Anacostia agreed to her harebrained scheme.
The woman hesitated, staring at the book like it would bite her. Tally leaned forward, and before Anacostia could object, flipped the book open. She sped past several pages before landing on a specific sketch. There, captured perfectly in charcoal that had been preserved with a Working that few used nowadays, was a family of three.
Tally didn’t know their names, but she saw the woman’s smile on Anacostia’s face. The man’s eyes were identical to hers, especially when they were happy.
Without ever meeting them, Tally had drawn a perfect family portrait of the Quartermaines with their daughter. The redhead gave the captain a moment before flipping the page. There was Anacostia, in full Dress Blues, all regalia of her Captaincy present. Behind her stood Colonel and Sergeant Quartermaine, beaming at her with pride.
“How…?” Anacostia reached out, flipping between the pages. She realized quickly that this was what Tally fondly called Mamacostia’s sketchbook . Every drawing in there, related to the sergeant. All 200 pages of it. Ana growing up. Ana with her parents. Ana with Alder. Ana graduating war college. Ana in the mud during basic. Ana, Ana, Ana.
“I dream Alder’s memories. They aren’t all bad, sometimes.” Tally said softly, watching the emotions flicker across her superior’s face.
Anacostia had tears in her eyes when she looked up. “She dreams of me this much?”
Tally offered a helpless shrug. “I’ve dreamed her memories for four years. Sometimes multiple times a night. The dreams of you are among the happiest.”
“What exactly is it you want to do, Tally?”
The intense stare paired with that statement made the redhead shift uncomfortably. She summoned the scraps of the bravery that had brought her to this office to say, “I want to give Alder this.”
“A sketchbook of me?” Ana asked, eyebrow hiked higher than Everest.
“No—I mean kind of? I want to give her eleven sketchbooks, filled with people who she might miss. And two paintings. Of people I know she has.”
Anacostia glanced up from the detailed drawing of tiny Ana and Alder crouching before her. That had been one of Tally’s personal favorites.
“People she’s missed? How can you be certain?” Ana inquired, reluctantly setting the sketches aside, with one last longing glance. It looked like it was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Tally made a decision right then. It hadn’t been part of the plan, but bribes never hurt right?
“For the same reason you want to open that sketchbook again. Who doesn’t miss their family?” Tally said, returning to rigid attention after relaxing.
Anacostia’s reaction didn’t disappoint. Tally could now, finally, say that she had shocked her drill sergeant out of words. After a minute of silence, she finally managed, “You’ve seen her family?”
“Yes. Every iteration of it, over three centuries.” Tally confirmed. “But if you’re asking if I also saw her blood family, that too.”
“Why two paintings?” Ana had gathered her composure rapidly. Tally was a little disappointed by that.
“Because, I want to do two family portraits.”
“Two?”
Tally nodded, her hands playing with the hem of her jacket behind her back. If Anacostia said this was a bad idea, she didn’t think she had the courage to continue. Each second had her nerves fraying more and more until it felt like they would snap.
“Two. One of the Alder family when she was just Sarah, at an awkward 12. And the second…” Tally took a deep breath before continuing. “The second would have them standing with the General.”
Ana blinked rapidly, emotions flying across her face before she settled on incredulity. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Not really. But I think, from what I’ve seen, they would still be proud of her. Of what she’s managed to build even if they...would disagree with her methods. Mostly, I think they’d be sad. That she had to resort to such violence to be safe.” Tally confessed this all in a rush. She hadn’t spoken to even Raelle or Abigail about this. It seemed...too intimate to even think about giving to people who didn’t know Alder.
“I...suppose you would know better than me.” Anacostia said, sounding pained at the admission. Then her eyes narrowed. “So your genius plan was to rig Secret Santa?”
“I mean, do you have a better idea?” Tally asked, curious.
The captain opened her mouth once. Twice. A third time. Finally, “No. I don’t. I can’t believe I’m going to help you rig Secret Santa.”
Tally gave a smile that could replace the sun. “Thank you, ma’am! You won’t regret it!”
She turned away, practically skipping towards the door when a “Craven!” Stopped her.
The redhead snapped to attention, returning her gaze to Anacostia. “Ma’am?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” The older woman asked, proffering Tally’s sketchbook. She looked like she’d rather be doing anything else. Even actively participating in the Sands.
Tally’s smile only grew wider. “Oh, no ma’am. That’s yours now. I have others.”
She could happily say that three miracles had occurred today. Anacostia would help break the rules. Anacostia would ignore the fact that Tally had already been breaking the rules. And finally, Anacostia had been stunned into silence not once, but twice. Tally felt good about this plan.
What could go wrong?
Staring at her sisters, Tally realized that she may have jinxed herself.
“You...need a loan?” Abigail’s incredulous voice came. “What have you been buying? Contraband salva?”
“No!” Tally objected.
Raelle added, “I dunno Tals, that seems suspicious.”
“You’ve seen what I spend my stipend on!” The redhead was offended they would think her capable of breaking the rules. Or, at least breaking rules relating to drugs.
“We have?” Her unit echoed back, terrifyingly in-sync.
Tally went over her dresser and pulled out her most recent sketchbook. “You see these all the time don’t you? Hell, Abigail, you let me dump like three boxes of them at the closest Bellweather property.”
“Right, I did do that. I totally remembered I did that before you reminded me.” Abigail’s tone said that she did not, in fact, remember doing anything of the sort.
“Speaking of—I need to go pick some of those up.”
“The boxes?”
“The sketchbooks. ” Tally looked at Abigail like her sister was being exceptionally slow today.
Raelle interrupted before they could descend into familial bickering. “So you buy a lot of art supplies—which, I didn’t even know you did art, I thought we shared? But what that has to do with why you need a loan, I have no idea.”
Tally mumbled something.
The blonde fixer leaned in closer. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you Tals.”
“I said, I need to buy painting supplies.” The redhead glared at her sisters, knowing that Rae had heard perfectly fine the first time. She was just being a gremlin. As usual.
“Why?” Abigail asked. “You’ve been sketching for years. Why painting now?”
Tally cringed back at the reminder that she was probably very rusty with a brush. She shoved that from her mind. “Because I want to paint something. Obviously.”
Her sisters shared an aggravated sigh. Raelle posed the question. “ What do you want to paint, Tals?”
The redhead fidgeted with the sketch book. “I...I want to paint something for Alder.”
Silence. Then Abigail opened her mouth. “I don’t think the General would appreciate tasteful nudes, Craven.”
“ABIGAIL!!!!” Tally shouted, dropping the book and tackling her sister. Raelle was cackling like mad in the background as the two wrestled.
Abigail, with her prior training, pinned Tally a few minutes later. She raised an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”
“I don’t know, Alder might be the kind of woman to appreciate that kind of thing,” Raelle commented. “But I don’t think Tally is that kind of artist based on these sketches.”
From her position on the floor underneath a Bellweather, Tally craned her head to see what the fixer meant. The blonde had her sketchbook open and was thumbing through it. The redhead felt her body flushing from embarrassment instead of rage or exertion. She let her head drop back to the floor with a groan.
Abigail scrambled up without even forcing a submission, as she normally would, rushing to look at Tally’s sketches. The artist rolled over on her stomach and buried her head in her arms. She knew she was good, but there was always that little voice in her head. Others are so much better than you, why are you even trying—
“Fuck me.” Abigail’s stunned voice came. “Tally, why did you never tell us you drew? Like, this is impressive.”
“It’s just sketches.” Tally mumbled.
“No, Tals, this shit looks like stuff my grandmother would hang in her home. This looks like a professional drew it.” Abigail denied, dropping to her knees and coaxing her sister to roll back over.
Reluctantly, Tally did.
“Yeah, I didn’t grow up in an art gallery but these people...all feel real. Hell, you have our entire coven right here. I remember this day! You captured M’s stunned expression perfectly.” Raelle had sat cross legged next to Abigail, still engrossed by Tally’s art.
“You think so?” She asked, heart in her throat. The last person she had asked was May Craven. Who had destroyed all of Tally’s art things immediately after she answered the Call. That had partially been the reason it had taken a lot to get her to start drawing again.
“I would buy this.” Abigail said, still dazed by the art. Then her eyes snapped up. “Actually, can I?”
Tally blinked. “You want...to buy an unfinished sketchbook?”
“No, I want to commission you to do a painting for my mom. I’ve been struggling to figure out what to get her this Yule.” Abigail’s earnest eyes made Tally’s heart soar even as her stomach dropped.
“You’d want to give something of mine to your mom? But you haven’t even seen my paintings.” She whispered, hiding her blush behind a curtain of red hair.
Abigail tilted her chin up. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you can always surprise even those who know you best. I have no doubt your paintings are going to be just as exceptionally touching as those sketches. More, even.”
Tally wasn’t sure this was the best idea, timeline-wise or sanity-wise. The eleven sketchbooks were already finished, all of them sitting in a closet in one of Abigail’s houses. But the two paintings for Alder would take time. But, her mind racing, if her sister bought her all of the supplies…
“You’d buy me the stuff I need?” Tally asked.
“Most artists get paid beyond just that.” Abigail reminded dryly.
Tally shook her head in denial. “No, if you bought me all the supplies that I’d need, that would be more than enough.”
Abigail looked over at her, tapping her chin thoughtfully. The Bellweather was preparing to negotiate. “Two paintings. One formal, in our uniforms. The other...well, less formal, I’ll have to think about it.”
“Formal painting will be finished for Yule. No promises on the other one.” Tally responded.
“Deal.” Abigail stuck out her hand.
“Deal.” Tally agreed quickly. “We need to go to the art store!”
The Bellweather watched with dawning horror as Tally bounced around the room.
“I may have miscalculated.” Abigail said, eyes wide at how excited her sister was.
“No take backs!”
The shopping trip was highly successful for Tally. Raelle was cackling madly as she carried the four large canvases back to Fort Salem. Tally was loaded down with paints and Abigail was carrying other miscellaneous supplies. The Bellweather looked stunned.
“How did we just drop three grand at an art store?”
“We?” Raelle could barely breathe past her new laughing fit. “I think you mean you.”
“Tally, this painting better be like Rembrandt quality otherwise I will murder you right before my mother murders me. ” Abigail hissed as the gate soldiers looked at the strange group wide-eyed.
Tally had already thought of an excuse for them though. “I really want to try practicing drawing locations I haven’t been to yet!” She gave an awkward laugh and ran her hand through her hair. “I may have gone a little overboard.”
While the officers checked that there was no contraband in the mountain of art supplies, Tally hissed right back at her leader. “You agreed to buy me the stuff.”
“I didn’t think you’d clean out an entire mom and pop store. That teller had to call in the manager because we literally bought their entire supply of acrylic paints. The fact that you can carry all of them is concerning. ” Abigail was just staring at the tubes upon tubes of paint that the sergeant finally just sweeped back into the bags they came from and handed it back to Tally.
“I didn’t want to have to go back.” Tally said as they were finally allowed to enter base.
Abigail shot her an incredulous look. “Well, I’m sure my mom is going to try and ground me, so you better get that portrait done quick, if you ever want to leave this base again.”
“Aye, aye ma’am.” Tally nodded agreeable as she saulted. She may still be slightly high on the fact that, despite some minor objections, Abigail had actually bought her everything. Some things that May had always denied Tally were now in her grasp because of her sister. It had been because of the cost, the denials. But considering May had been selling Tally’s work since she was 15, it had hurt all the same.
“Wait, do we need to pose for that? Because I can avoid my mom until after it’s done and probably live, but if you need me to pose I’m fucked.” Abigail was adorable with the ramblings.
Tally kicked her shin. “Chill, Abs. You don’t need to pose. Though since I’m doing your painting first, it might not be the best.”
“Wanna bet?” Raelle asked.
The redhead gave her a suspicious look. “What would be the terms?”
“If Petra cries over your painting, you have to paint me something.” Rae smirked.
Tally doubted her art could make the tough-as-nails General cry so she asked, “What would I get? If she doesn’t?”
“...I’ll sing you to sleep every night.”
“Deal.”
One week of frantic painting later—Tally literally never had clean hands, Gregorio had been concerned by the red that she hadn’t gotten off—Abigail marched into Petra’s office with a wrapped canvas.
She came back an hour later. Tally nervously waited for the verdict. Had Petra liked it? Was Abigail in too much trouble now?
“I’d never seen my mom cry before.” Abigail said, the kind of calm that only happened when a person was utterly drained of emotions.
“Oh no. She hated it? I didn’t, I can do it again—“
“Tals. No. She loved it. She even said she would’ve paid triple the amount I did for it, without hesitation.” Abigail sat down on her bed. Utterly dazed by her day.
“Ha! You owe me a painting, Craven!” Raelle crowed from her bed, looking up from her anatomy text.
“After Yule.” Tally agreed absentmindedly.
Abigail shook herself free of her daze. “Speaking of more paintings, my mom asked if my artist would be willing to take any more commissions?”
Tally blinked rapidly. She couldn’t stop a goofy grin from spreading across her face at the thought that Petra Bellweather wanted more of her art. And then her smile froze. “Abigail?”
“Hm?”
“You didn’t tell your mom who painted it did you?” Tally asked, tentatively. That had been the only condition she had set. She didn’t sign Petra’s painting—wouldn’t sign or mark any of these gift paintings. They would all be firmly done by an anonymous painter.
“Don’t worry Tals. I kept your secret.” Abigail smirked before shaking her head slowly. “I cannot believe how dogged my mom was about trying to get an answer. I have never seen her want an explanation more. Not even when she heard about me making Libba eat a dead pigeon.”
There was an astonished quiet at that before Tally broke it. “You must really love me, to not actually tell her.”
“I’d follow you anywhere, Craven. Even to a court-martial.”
Tally couldn’t stop herself from tackling Abigail in a hug. Raelle joined in quickly. She had the best sisters.
Sorting through her sketchbooks took time. Tally knew she had to narrow it down, because dumping over 40 sketchbooks onto Alder would be...too much. Even for her. There were two immediate yeses. The one that was just the biddies, with their names and the years they served. Tally had also drawn each biddy twice. Once when they were young, and again, after they had become a biddy.
The second book was Alder’s coven. Even though there were fewer than 40 witches in that group, Tally had filled over two hundred pages with them. Nothing sad, just them laughing around a table. A witch being thrown from a horse. Them jumping into the river, laughing. Moments of life that had been forgotten with their deaths.
Abigail and Raelle had bullied their way into helping sort through them, just completely astonished by the sheer amount of people Tally had drawn from Alder’s memories.
“Oh, this woman kinda looks like me.” Abigail said, holding up a sketch of a proud woman with the same eyes as her.
“I’d hope so. That’s Jem Bellweather.” Tally said, absentmindedly. She was sorting the sketchbooks by chronology as best she could. The remaining nine sketchbooks would have to cover three centuries of life.
“This is Jem Bellweather?!” Abigail said, excitement dripping from every word.
Tally spent more time explaining historical figures that day than making any executive decisions. She still left the Bellweather manor with eleven sketchbooks packed away in her bag.
Carefully, she used her limited calligraphy to write Ex Fide Fortis on the covers of each book, labeling them 1-11. Then she wrapped each of them in holiday paper, making sure that the cards read Gen. S. Alder with the appropriate number below it.
Then they were buried in the dresser. Abigail didn’t even mind having to move some of her stuff. Not after Tally promised to paint Jem after her other things.
Tally was a woman possessed leading up to the Secret Santa drawing. She was basically always on the verge of a demerit due to paint. Luckily, Rae and Abs managed to clean her like a toddler, considering how often she accidentally splattered paint on her face. One day, no one had said anything about the bright blue that streaked across her cheek. Tally had hit both of her sisters after.
She had never really painted like this before. Not with the intent to give it to someone specific. Not with the knowledge that she was bringing these people back to life. If she fucked up—Tally couldn’t fuck this up. She refused.
She wanted so desperately to give Sarah Alder something back that the world had taken. Even if it was just her family’s smiles, preserved in acrylic.
It was the day of the drawing. Tally had shown up, hands scrubbed raw to ensure that no paint was visible. She gave a nervous smile to Anacostia, who nodded back. The redhead felt her shoulders relax. Just slightly. She was no longer ready to snap, at least.
“Daughters.”
Tally shivered due to Alder’s voice. The cold didn’t manage to penetrate the wards unless the woman allowed it. At most, on Fort Salem grounds, witches felt the nip of fall but never the chilling bite of winter entire. They just had miserable training exercises in the Appalachians once a year in war college to make up for that.
“Yuletide is upon us once more. In honor of our sisterhood, we shall exchange anonymous gifts to strengthen our bonds.” There were some titters from the more bold cadets, at the fact that General Alder refused to use the words Secret Santa. It amused Tally too, but she understood. Civilians had hurt Alder so badly. She wouldn’t adopt their traditions as her own. She was stubborn like that.
“Whatever you choose to give will be honored, so long as it is given in good faith. The name of your gift recipient will be displayed on your service medal for the next hour. If you forget—” Alder’s voice warned that it would be unwise to do so. “—you may ask your CO to set up a meeting between you and Captain Quatermaine, who is responsible for the list this year. I would not recommend going that route.”
Alder gave a few moments to let the implied threat sink in. Then she ended, almost gruffly, with a “Happy Yule.”
The low murmuring of soldiers checking their service medals made Tally swallow. She didn’t check hers. Not yet.
“Oh, I got M.” Raelle said, relief in every word.
“Lucky, I got General Clary. ” Abigail looked extremely put out by this.
“At least you know her?” Rae offered.
“That makes it worse, shitbird. I have just enough of an idea to know what to avoid but no idea what she’d actually enjoy. Well, how about you Tally? Who did you get?” Abigail set aside her problem, to check in with her sister.
Tally appreciated that. She did. She just didn’t want an audience for this. She should’ve checked sooner.
“It’s okay Tals. Whoever you get, is gonna get the gift of their life.” Rae murmured to her.
The knower choked back a laugh as she fumbled with the metal warmed by her skin. There, emblazoned across the front was Gen. S. Alder. Tally closed her eyes tightly in relief, clenching her hand around the round bit of magical metal.
Thank you, Goddess. Thank you, Anacostia. Tally directed that thought to her former sergeant, who was watching her with a secret smile. The woman gave a quick nod before turning away.
“So?”
“I got exactly who I wanted.” Tally said, with a gleaming grin. Now, she just had to execute the remaining steps of her plan. She was confident after the success of Step One.
Step Two: Deliver Gifts Secretly.
This one would be more difficult, but she was sure she could do it. It just required more stealth than she could summon up for even exams. Easy. The next step was the true hurdle though.
Step Three: Don’t Get Caught and Court-Martialed.
Tally would spend the rest of her life praying that Sarah Alder never found out who her gift giver was this year. Less easy than the previous parts of this plan, but still doable. This was one secret she would do her best to take to her grave.
Or at least, Tally was determined to live with that sword hanging over her head. She was committed now. No turning back.