Chapter Text
When he was thirteen years old, Arthur Maxson watched a nineteen-year-old Knight pull a deathclaw off him so that the Squire could gut its soft underbelly with his ripper despite bleeding profusely. From that day forwards, he’d vowed by the Eternal Steel to treat Danse as a brother, to keep him by his right hand until both should breathe their last. That bond had deepened once he grew into his birthright and rank of Elder, the Paladin’s hard body serving as bulwark in battle and pillow in bed, and nothing seemed to be able to shake it, let alone break it, until now.
It wasn’t even the woman’s fault. Sparrow Finlay was… lovely. Fine-boned and doe-eyed, a small woman with a mother’s subtle curvaceousness under the Brotherhood uniform and chestnut-brown hair that a man could happily sink his fingers into. A pre-War survivor, frozen until recently, of proven fertility and intelligence. Half the male officers who were at the age and rank to consider procreating were practically chomping at the bit for her to indicate an interest in having children. If she’d been a little more calculating, a little more manipulative, she could have risen through the ranks based on her choice of breeding partners alone.
Arthur wished she was like that sometimes. A temporary liaison with a woman who could hold her own in Brotherhood politics would serve many purposes, including gaining him an ally with her own reasons to support him. He could do his duty, sire a Maxson or two and continue relying on Danse for close companionship. So long as an Elder fulfilled his duties, what he did in the bedroom was his own business, and none could claim Danse wasn’t worthy of the ranks bestowed on him because he was so very, very competent at what he did.
But Sparrow Finlay was… lovely. Warm and gentle, rare things in the Wasteland, with a heart that was sometimes too big for her own good. The kind of woman who would pick up a sniper’s rifle and try to keep the enemy away from you even as she trusted in your strength to keep them away from her. The kind of woman who would deserve the title of ‘Lady’ before her name if she wasn’t already serving as a Scribe. Not Elder material, unless she had a stalwart right hand who could serve as her champion – but a fine Elder’s spouse.
Arthur had been surprised to discover that two-people unions were the norm before the Great War and anything else considered questionable at best. With many marriages arranged in the Brotherhood for the purposes of power and breeding, it was generally considered permissible to have a lover on the side so long as marital duties were taken care of. Male officers had a little more leeway – Elder Casdin, for instance, had an official bride and a female Consort who both bore him children – but women had to be careful not to bear unauthorised children unless they were the ones passing a name on, so their lovers tended to be same-sex or confirmed as sterile. If the situation had been so simple, Arthur would have approached Sparrow, made an offer for her hand and happily continued with Danse as an unofficial Consort. But he doubted that she would be so… open-minded.
No, the problem was that Sparrow, lovely as she was, seemed to expect a monogamous relationship… and appeared to favour Danse. The kicker was that the Paladin was responding to those subtle overtures because Sparrow, small and soft and gentle as she was, triggered all of his formidable protective instincts in ways Arthur couldn’t.
He wished it was a cold campaign to wrest Danse from him, because then he could respond in kind by warning the Paladin. But Sparrow was falling in love with Danse, with his quiet strength and gravelly voice, and her intentions were sincere. And while it was a fairly open secret what Danse and Arthur got up to in the Elder’s quarters, it wasn’t officially acknowledged because Arthur needed to sire an heir – so Sparrow, still learning the ways of the Brotherhood, might not be aware of the relationship. The Elder already knew how she’d react – break it off, of course, because she was an honourable woman… and then die slowly because he genuinely believed that her psyche couldn’t handle any more heartbreak.
So it was time for all three of them to talk frankly. If Danse should wish for an openly acknowledged relationship with Sparrow instead of what was between him and Arthur, the Elder would have no choice but to let him go and break his own heart. But he was selfish enough to not want that.
Danse, of course, arrived first. Saw the whiskey on the desk and knew things were going to be awkward. Lips twitched in grim humour. “Whiskey won’t work with her. She can toss it back like a thirty-year Proctor. Drank Teagan under the table.”
Arthur blinked. Teagan was being repeatedly cited for his problems with alcohol, which came from the stress of his job. And the small, sweet, soft-voiced Sparrow Finlay had drunk him under the table. “Maybe the whiskey’s for me.”
Danse’s face shifted into sympathetic lines. “Do you prefer men?” he asked quietly, lovingly.
“No. I-“ Arthur rose to his feet and padded over to the wedding photograph of his parents. “What makes you think I’m calling her here to make an offer?”
“Because she’s the healthiest woman on the Prydwen, has the qualities that Elders like in a procreative partner, is of proven fertility and has – currently – no stake in the factional disputes,” Danse said dryly – and accurately.
“Would it were so simple,” Arthur sighed. “I suspect that Scribe Finlay expects both exclusivity and an emotional bond in a relationship – and she’s shown no particular interest in me.”
Danse was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “She’s a lot more pragmatic than you might think, Arthur. But with… well… after what happened at the Institute, she’s emotionally fragile. More so than usual.”
That revelation made Maxson feel even more like an ass by trying to force an ending to this détente. “How so?”
“I’m not certain. How do you expect a woman who finds out the son she crawled out of a tomb masquerading as a Vault and across half of the Commonwealth to rescue is a cold, amoral little prick who deserves the fate we’re going to dish out to him to feel?” Danse’s voice, normally quiet and grave, was thick with bitter rage.
“I don’t know, because I’ve never faced such a situation before,” Arthur countered acerbically.
“You won’t have to doubt her loyalty,” Danse said with pursed lips. “But it may be best to shift her to duties on the Prydwen. She’s done more than enough to bring down the Institute – asking her to help kill her son, even if he’s everything that is despicable about mankind, is a bit much.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Arthur steeled himself to ask a particular question. “How do you feel about her?”
Danse went very still and the Elder prepared for the worst. “In the six months I have known her, she has become as dear to me as you are,” the Paladin answered. “She’s aware of our relationship as well – Sparrow might be new to the Brotherhood, but she tells me that people haven’t particularly changed that much when it comes to hiding secret love affairs.”
Arthur laughed, more in relief than in humour at Danse’s wry tone. “I was worried that you… wanted to leave me for her.”
“An acknowledged relationship instead of an unofficial one?” Danse’s voice was a little wistful now. “It… was tempting. But I’m your shield, Arthur. I would never allow you to be guarded by anyone else. Leaving you in the Capital Wasteland damn-near killed me and I’m not doing that to myself again.”
Arthur shuddered, closing his eyelids to prevent the sudden tears from spilling down his cheeks. “It was hell for me as well. But I couldn’t send anyone else.”
“I know. That’s why I went.” Danse walked around the desk and wrapped his arms about Arthur’s waist, resting his chin atop his head.
They stood there, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment, until Sparrow’s double-knock on the steel door announced her arrival.
Maxson moved to stand by the desk, greeting her as an equal, as Danse got the door. Aside from dark circles under her eyes and her chestnut-brown bun being a bit messier than usual, Sparrow looked much the same, showing little of the emotional trauma she was surely in. “Elder, Paladin,” she greeted formally.
“Come in and take a seat,” Arthur urged, gesturing to one of the two chairs in his office.
She took it while Danse sat in the other after closing the door. “Whiskey?” he asked, offering the bottle.
“I’d better not. The mood I’m in, I’d down the whole bottle, and that would break a promise I’d made to Nate and Shaun.” Her voice, normally sweet and warm as whiskey, was a complicated mixture of grief, sorrow, anger and bitterness. “Even if one’s dead and the other is no son neither of his parents would be proud of.”
“I’m sorry. I imagine it must be hard,” Arthur said sympathetically.
“Fighting a deathclaw and a dozen raiders in Concord while wearing half-broken power armour was easier than walking through the Institute with a smile on my face while synths thanked me for bearing Shaun, their ‘father’, like I was Mary Mother of God and he was Jesus Christ.”
Arthur recalled that Sparrow followed a particular brand of Christianity, a long-dead variant called Catholicism that venerated the virgin who bore the god-child almost as much as the god-child himself. “I’m sorry we asked that of you. I promise that we’ll try to spare you more in the future.”
The Vault Dweller sighed. “I feel for the synths. I know what you say about technology, but I don’t blame a child for the sins of their parents… and in a way, I’m their grandmother.”
Danse and Arthur exchanged glances. Now was not the time to argue the point.
Sparrow shifted in her seat, regarding the two men frankly. “I had the feeling you’d ask me to, ah, be the oven to bake a precious little Maxson bun or two. Knight-Captain Cade’s questions on my fertility were far too pointed.”
Of all the things Arthur expected, such frank honesty from the woman was almost the last thing. “Me being with Danse doesn’t bother you?”
She lowered her gaze. “For a bit, I thought… Never mind. I’ve got half the male officers after me with their so-called charming personalities because of my precious pre-War uterus. I understand – may not like, but I understand – why procreation amongst the ranking staff is so organised. My mother’s side were Boston Brahmins – think the pre-War equivalent of Proctor Quinlan’s family – and even in the 21st Century, they had a lot of arranged unions.”
There had been a flash of pain in those radstag-doe eyes, quickly stifled. Sparrow had fancied Danse until she discovered his relationship with Maxson… so she was offering to do this for a friend’s beloved. The staggering amount of courage on the heels of discovering what her son had become was enough to make the Elder want to salute her.
“Arthur and I both find women attractive but…” Danse’s heavy shoulders shrugged as Maxson wondered where his statement was going. “But the high-ranking Ladies of the Brotherhood are more in love with the Maxson name than Arthur himself if they’re willing to share and since Sarah Lyons died seven years ago, there has been no female of enough rank to hold her own nor have need of the added lustre of the Elder’s bloodline.”
“I know what you mean,” Sparrow observed with a grim quirk of the mouth. “Mother managed to marry Father because she was the last of her line and they were both aristocrats of a sort – he belonged to a two centuries’ old Boston Irish crime family. But some of his acquaintances had likely lads looking to add the Killian family connections to their portfolios. I wound up choosing a New York Irish man orphaned in his teens who’d served as one of my dad’s corporals in Anchorage because he grieved for him as much as I did.”
Arthur regarded her with the expression of a man who’s finally met someone that understands what he’s lived with all his life. “Exactly. Not to speak ill of those ladies – a fair few had parents pressing the issue – but I am trying to avoid another factional dispute that could shatter the Brotherhood again.”
“I figured as much.” Sparrow sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ll only ask for two things, Arthur – may I call you Arthur?”
“Of course,” he agreed readily, feeling sweet relief running through his veins. “What do you want?”
“One, a say in how the children are brought up. I figure you’ll need two or three to secure the bloodline because Brotherhood life is harsh.” Sparrow looked at him carefully.
“If you are willing, I would make you Lady Maxson,” he answered immediately. “You’re intelligent, shrewd, compassionate and dedicated.”
The Vault Dweller blinked and then looked thoughtful. “I… could maybe do that if you give me a little more time. I want to see the Institute burned from the face of the earth before I think of the future.”
“Agreed.” Arthur shifted in his seat. “What’s the second thing you want?”
“That any son we have is called Killian Ahern,” she answered quietly. “You’re not the only one who wants to see his name continue.”
“Ahern?” Danse asked.
“My mother’s pre-marriage name.”
Arthur sighed in relief. Such simple, reasonable requests. “Done and done.”
“Thank you.” Sparrow’s gaze was shadowed. “Shaun was named for Nate’s father. The next son we would have had was likely to be Frances for my father. Daughters would have been Moira for his mother and Elisabeth for mine. But all of them would have had Killian Ahern as middle names.”
The look on Danse’s face was equal to the relief in Arthur’s heart. He obviously cared for Sparrow and to know that she was willing to help out Arthur eased a lot of stress for them both. “Thank you, Sparrow. You don’t know what this means to us.”
Her smile was a little sad. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever love again. But at least I can make life a little easier for my friend and the man he loves – and obviously adores him back.”
The Vault Dweller sighed explosively. “My cycle’s at its most fertile in a few days. I don’t know how Brotherhood handles this, but I would like at least a nice dinner before anything, assuming that we’re doing this the natural way.”
Danse looked a little surprised. “You know your own fertility cycle?”
Sparrow’s smile was a little wry, a little sad. “I’m Irish-Catholic. We were expected to try and avoid using contraception unless someone’s health was at risk or the circumstances weren’t right to raise a child, but the use of withdrawal and knowing your cycle were considered perfectly acceptable.”
“Ah.”
Arthur leaned over and poured each of them a shot of whiskey to toast the agreement. “Even if you have no wish to become Lady Maxson, Sparrow, you are as dear to me as Danse and may ask anything,” he vowed softly. “For this, I am in your debt.”
Sparrow’s smile was determined. “There are no debts between friends, Arthur.”
They toasted and drank, Arthur feeling that things would turn out alright after all.