This is an AU. I'm focusing on the premise that Valden (Tris's father) didn't let her leave without a fight. I felt it'd be interesting to see Tris acclimate to having someone older than her care unconditionally. I've already written about 2/3 of the next chapter- this story will probably be about 5 chapters long.

Yay.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine, except for Giles.

"Get it out of my house!" Darra screeched, pointing an accusing finger at the girl at his feet.

Valden bent down to scoop up his eight-year-old daughter. He wiped away the sluggish tears that were slowly dripping down her face, and gently brushed the out of control curls out of her puffy eyes before straightening and facing his wife, a comforting hand on the coarse fabric that covered Tris's shoulder.

"It," he said coldly, as he looked his wife in the eye. "Is your daughter."

The vehemence in his tone made Darra take a step back, her eyes wide in surprise. Valden was a quiet man, not given to talking much and generally even tempered. Many on first glance thought he was weak-willed, dominated by his demanding wife and, by extension, House Chandler. Usually, Valden was content to let this misconception continue- his comfortable lifestyle was a far cry from his upbringing as the son of a ship captain, when it came to things that were important to him, he could be impossibly stubborn.

Valden liked to think that if Trisana inherited something other than his bad eyesight. it would be his pigheaded obstinacy.

"I can't take it anymore, Valden!" Darra hissed, twisting her hands into her skirts. "Lightning- lightning- was climbing through her hair this morning!" Her nose flared. "The mage detector has been here twice- twice at your insistence! Did you know how much that cost? She has no magic-"

"Then how do these things keep happening?" Valden interjected, cutting through Darra's tirade like a knife. "Please, explain to me how lightning got in her hair without magic?"

Darra drew herself up. "Demons." She spat, finally, releasing in an exhalation of ire. "That little girl you hold so tight against you is possessed- cursed-"

"Enough!" Valden roared, his voice shaking the sitting room they stood in. His hand was shaking, and he realized it was because Tris had started to sob quietly, so quietly that they hadn't heard her over the sound of their argument. "You will keep a civil tongue in your head." Valden hissed at Darra, his face menacing behind his usual genteel exterior of an accredited architect. He rubbed Tris's back, trying to offer some physical comfort as he tried to get her mother to see reason.

She glared back, her face weirdly triumphant. Shadows from the twilight fell across her face, and Valden already felt a sinking feeling –

"I'm sending her to Cousin Uraelle." Darra said her smile cruel as she took in Valden's look of disbelief.

"No-"he said, weakly.

"Yes." Darra said. "Perhaps a little hard raising would-"

"Traders damn you, women!" Valden barked. His hand tightened on Tris's shoulder as he felt himself sway. "I've told you what that woman was like. I had to suffer under her hand when I was attending Univeristy and I'll not put her into that house. Over my dying body, will I let that miserly bat touch my daughter!"

"Well it's too late." Darra spat. "I sent the letter a fortnight ago- arrangements have already been made and she leaves when the week is out."

"I'll not have it! I'll not-"

"Remember who was born a Chandler, Valden." Darra said, threateningly. "and who married one. House Chandler made you; you would be nothing without my family and I'll not let you forget your place for one moment! If not for the debt my family owed your father, you'd be on the streets, living from commission to commission, wasting away between voyages on booze and loose women. We gave you a place, a trade, a career, a family. 'He that giveth, also taketh away', isn't that right, dear?"

Valden looked on in horror as his wife spewed this vitriol, having to control his growing nausea because it was true. Darra smirked and gathered herself, turning on her heel to walk away.

"She will be going to Cousin Uraelle's by the end of the week, with your approval or not." With those parting words, she turned on her heel and left.

As soon as the sound of Darra's footsteps faded, Valden collapsed into a nearby armchair, silently gathering his child onto his lap. Tris was quiet, tuckered out because of the shouting and the crying. She merely placed her head on his chest and let herself drift off. Valden smiled, a little, and took off her small spectacles and placed them on the nearby bedside table, smoothing out the two little grooves on the bridge of her nose left there.

Now… now what?

The Chandlers were the executors of his will, his bank accounts, and his business- their fingers were entwined in every aspect of his life. He had a measly account he'd started when he was at University but had quickly abandoned to gain interest when he'd married Darra and had access to the House funds. In a custody battle, Darra would win, hands down. She had the money, the connections and Valden had no doubts that such a long, drawn out legal proceeding would leave him bankrupt.

Darra won.

Valden felt his body slacken as the realization hit him hard. His daughter was going to go away, possibly for years to woman who should never have power over anyone, let alone his little girl. Tris would grow up, thinking he'd abandoned her and she'd probably hate him for it.

He would hate himself for it.

Valden's mouth twisted as he rose, carrying puffing slightly as he trudged up the stairs into Tris's room. He carefully tucked her in, smoothing away the curls that had fallen into her eyes while she was being carried. He kissed her head, smiling as she shifted, mumbling in her sleep.

Then he turned on his heel and made his way downstairs to write a few letters. He had some favors to call in if he wanted to pull this off.

The next day when Tris woke up, she thought the shouting had been a dream. Mother wouldn't have wanted her to leave, right?

And then she heard the silence of her mother's usual morning hustle and bustle around the house before she'd go out to mind the Chandler accounts, along with her father's merry whistling as he finished another prototype ship to present to the Merchants Guild that day. Instead it was eerily silent, as if her parents were creeping around on tiptoes as to not disturb her.

Last night… wasn't a dream. Tris concluded sadly, wiping at a lone tear that had escaped at the thought. Mother really does think I'm a- a freak!"

Her mouth tightened and her chin came up, something her mother had always chastised her about (It's far too uncouth dear!). Why should she change if her mother didn't like it? These bad things only happened when Mother started to yell at her, like tornadoes and hail and things. She only ever made it rain if her Father was disappointed-

"Miss Chandler?" Tris blinked at the knock on the door. It was her tutor, Giles, one of Father's friends.

"Coming sir!" Tris called, tying her unruly hair back into a ribbon before gathering her slate, chalk, and book off her dresser and joining the older man in the hallway.

"Did you finish your mathematics problems?" the professor asked, smiling slightly at Tris's slightly insulted face.

"I always do my work." She said, slightly cross. She'd taken her Father's advice seriously; education came before play- not that she had any friends to play with anyway.

"I know, my dear." Giles chuckled. "Your Father's always so proud of your marks. Top of the class."

"I'm the only one in the class." Tris reminded him.

"Oh, I know." Giles smiled. "But I have no doubt you'd still be top of your class." Tris smiled, a little dread lifting from her heart as her favorite adult (Besides her Father) praised her. She didn't notice the sadness in her Giles' face, or the slight tightening around his eyes whenever he spoke her name.

"Are you sure about this Valden?" Giles asked, taking a sip of brandy to steady his shaking hands. "I don't know the law, but I'm pretty sure kidnapping your own child is still kidnapping."

"It's open for interpretation." Valden admitted, shuffling through the papers on his desk and throwing a select few onto the fire. The flames flickered and sputtered before devouring the ink and parchment- the glow illuminated the evening dark.

"You know the Chandlers can get any judge to interpret that in their favor, don't you?"

Valden shrugged. "It's a good thing we're leaving the country then."

"Probably a good idea." Giles admitted, lifting his drink up to the gas lamp that barely illuminated the small study. "To where, may I ask? Far away, hopefully."

"Emelan." Valden said, packing his valise with his irreplaceable documents and sealing the locking spell with a whispered word and a drop of his blood.

"Emelan-!" Giles yelped.

"Shhh?" Valden hissed. "You want to go up and announce to my wife what we're doing?"

"That's only a country or two over!" Giles urgently. "I was thinking Yanjing, or maybe Namorn."

"House Chandler does extensive business in almost every port city in the civilized world." Valden said. "They have contacts in every country, landlocked or not, and they would expect me to go north or west. Emelan has very strict regulations on trade- House Chandler is actually the weakest there because the Duke only allows one guild hall per merchant house."

"I wonder why that is." Giles wondered out loud.

"It keeps up healthy competition. It's actually more profitable for Emelan if they have more merchants paying individual tariffs than just one monopolizing and pushing everyone else out of business. Darra explained it to me, once." Valden trailed off, clearing his throat at the mention of his wife.

"Darra'll kill you if she ever gets you in a position where she could get away with it." Giles said, softly.

"… I know." Valden said, equally as gently. "I married her because I loved her and she married me because her father encouraged it. She was supposed to marry me, have a son first, then a daughter, and be able to show them off to her friends and rivals. At first, when Aaron was born… she was so happy. Then Tris was born and Aaron became sick and-"Valden sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "She had to bury her only son and raise the child she believed ruined it all. She blames her barrenness on Tris. She thinks she's a laughingstock- and I certainly don't help. Most of the Chandler men think I'm a limp-wristed bardash and that the real reason Darra hasn't had another child is because I'm impotent."

"Ah." Giles said a little apologetic. Never having had a wife, or even a lover before, he was definitely not the person to ask. Such things seemed to bring only grief and he knew well enough to stay away.

"It certainly puts our relationship into perspective, doesn't it?" Valden couldn't help the bitter tone that managed. "All she wanted me for was children, and she can't even be happy with the one she has now."

"To be fair," Giles pointed out. "You do have an unusual child. Just his morning at lessons a breeze from the window tugged her papers out of her hands. She merely demanded that they were returned and, like a dog called to heel by its master, the papers were drifted back to her hand."

Valden sighed. "Sometimes I understand why my wife would just give up and hand her off." He kneaded the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefingers. "It's things like that that give me pause." He sighed. "What if she is possessed by an elemental spirit or something?"

"Valden Chandler." Giles said harshly. "If you doubt that little girl, I'll tell you right now; you don't know your only daughter. She is bright, dedicated, and absolutely worships you. If you think someone like that could ever-"

"Alright." Valden interrupted, holding up a hand to stall Giles growing rant. "I understand."

The two men fell into silence, broken only by the chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway an hour later.

"I'm being watched." Valden said quietly. "I need you to take care of things, please. We need a quiet ship out of Dartmoor, possibly." Giles nodded, recognizing the name of a small fishing town east of Ninver- small and unobtrusive. "A purse when we get there and false identification; I still don't trust that Darra wouldn't hire someone to find us."

"Why would she, though?" Giles asked. "You'd be gone, as would the girl she was so intent on foisting off on that dragon Uraelle. Wouldn't she be pleased?"

"You'd think." Valden sighed, running his hand through cropped red hair. "but I've managed to rake up a small fortune in my engineering business . The patent for my new schooner and the Yanjing junk-sail is exclusive to me- the Chandlers pay for the house and my office, but most of my money is tied up in investments and things." Valden's face tightened. "Suffice to say, without my daughter, Darra gets nothing. As it is, she gets a modest stipend from my accounts and I've made sure most of my funds are untouchable. On the other hand, it makes those funds impossible to draw from in another country."

"Thus the need for the loan." Giles concluded, smiling slightly at his old student and friend. "Very sly, my friend. Very much the slippery merchant eel, as the Traders say. I do recall you telling me once that you'd never be like those filthy, money grubbing merchants-"

"Yes, yes." Valden said, flustered as Giles grinned at him in approval. "Well, I was young, and rather naïve. Everyone has a little merchant in them, especially in Ninver."

"Except for me." Giles said, laughing. Valden joined in.

"Except for you." He agreed. "You couldn't bargain your way out of a sack."

The clock struck again, signaling the approach of two in the morning.

"Oh, is that the time already?" Giles asked, surprised. "I'd better get going- I have papers to grade, loans to take out, identification to forge, trips to coordinate-"

"-secrets to keep." Valden said, giving him a sharp look, miming a zipping motion with his hands as well as a jerk towards the hallway. Giles eyebrows lifted. Listening spells, outside his private study?

"Neutralized, I hope." Giles vocalized.

"I may not have magic, but I'm not stupid." Valden retorted. "You don't need a Lightsbridge degree to smudge oil glyphs." He sniffed the scents that still clung to his hand. "Valerian root and rose petals."

"Explain." Giles gestured as he rose, preparing to leave. "You know I don't care a whit about such imprecise nonsense."

"Rose petals are primarily for beauty and clairvoyance in female potions. However, it also promotes a 'joy of giving', and when mixed with the valerian root, a herb used in certain dark rituals-"

"You're wife's trying to make charitable?" Giles laughed.

"No." Valden retorted. "I found a lock of her hair at the center of the rune- you can be assured it was made with her as the sole recipient of any of my charity."

"She still underestimates you." Giles said, grinning as he clapped his old student on the back. "That's a point in your favor, I'd think."

"I'll need all the favor I can get, come this Firesday." Valden said, quietly.

Giles moved to the door and, as he opened it out into the hallway he murmured; "So mote it be."

Tris wasn't sure what was going on when her father woke her gently in the middle of the night.

Her mother and father had gotten into another screaming match, but this time it had been accompanied by the smash of porcelain and the rip of wall hangings. When everything had gone quiet, she'd poked her head out from under the covers, only to smother an 'eep' when she caught sight of her mother in the doorway.

The look on her mother's face was… frightening. Darra's expression was carefully blank, like the face she used when bargaining with Traders or if Tris had made it snow indoors. Darra made her way from the doorway to the bed, standing over an unnaturally still little girl. Tris shut her eyes tight and pretended to be asleep, hoping beyond hope that Mother had changed her mind-

"It's your entire fault." Darra murmured, malice lining every syllable. "Everything was going fine until you were born." Her skirts rustled as her fist clenched. "I had my little boy, my little Aaron, and I was content. And then you… you little freak-"

Tris couldn't help the warm tears that started to fall. She didn't sob, she didn't shake. She merely lay there, listening to her mother degrade her, blame her for killing her own brother, blame her for ripping the family apart-

"I hope you enjoy Cousin Uraelle's house, Trisana." Darra said at last. "Because you'll be there for a long while. You're no daughter of mine."

She'd cried herself to sleep, staring at the packed trunk in the corner of the room that had remained bathed in moonlight.

So it was almost a welcome distraction when her father came in at one in the morning to shake her awake.

"Wake up, Trisana." Her father murmured in her ear. "You need to get dressed."

"Hmm?" Tris asked sleepily. Her face was plastered to her pillow with tears and her face felt stiff and uncomfortable. "Whazzat?"

"You know those play clothes I gave you last month?" Valden gently reminded the sleepy girl. After receiving a sleepy nod, he gestured for her to get dressed. As fast as her fuddled mind would allow, Tris hopped into the little trousers and tunic, slipping on the little cap her father had bought along with it to cover her hair.

"How do I look?" Tris smiled, pulling the hat down a little more over her ears.

Valden smiled and pressed a kiss onto his daughters head. "Cute."

He lead his daughter quietly out of the house, down the servants alley, and through a few a backstreets before emerging at the east gate of Ninver, the closest city exit to their house. They stopped just in the shadow of the houses across the cobbled courtyard from the large, imposing portcullis manned by two of the Night Guard.

"Be quiet for me, alright Tris?" Valden asked, kneeling to look his daughter in the eye. The solemn eight-year-old nodded, firming her mouth in a mulish line to convey her seriousness at following her father's wishes.

Taking her hand, Valden made his way out of the shadows, across the torch lit yard to the closest man at attention.

"Halt!" the men-at-arms cried, tapping his pike on the cobblestones with a sharp rap that stopped Valden in his tracks. "What is your business here, at this time of night?"

Unlike the lower class housing, Upper Ninver was mostly deserted at night, with an unofficial curfew. Not many people were out at this time of night and those that straggled in late were regarded with suspicion.

"It's my brother's son, sir." Valden said, flattering the simple guard with his deference. "Ran away from home, he did."

Tris looked up at her father in confusion; since when did her father have a brother and how did her father learn how to talk like a… merchant? He had always prided himself on his singular phonetics and individual turn of phrase. Now, to revert to such uncharacteristic way of speaking… something was very wrong.

"Did he now?" the guard growled back, leering down at Tris. She ducked her head, ashamed.

"I need to get him back to my brother- his apprenticeship starts tomorrow, see-"

"Oh, one of those is he?" the other guard charmed in. "Best suck it up boy. It's only seven or so years-"

"Move along." The first guard called gruffly, interrupting his partner's lecture.

"Thank you." Valden said gratefully. They passed through the arches, emerging from the other side of the thick outer wall in silence.

They followed the main road that wound against a series of drop off cliffs that fell straight into black water. For a while, the only sound was the shuffle of their boots on the ground coral that paved the road.

"Father," Tris yawned, pawing at her sleepy eyes. "Where are we going?"

"On a trip." Valden said, lightly. Her smiled down at his daughter with a look that didn't enter his eyes.

Tris's gaze sharpened, her sleepiness falling away. "I think I've read this before." Tris said flatly. "Daddy, are you kidnapping me?"

"I-"

"Does it count if I go with you voluntarily?" the little girl asked, an eyebrow lifted in a look that Valden knew she'd copied from Giles.

"I don't know." Valden said truthfully. Like he'd mentioned to Giles, he wasn't sure if this was explicitly legal or not. It probably wouldn't matter to Darra anyway; she just wanted Tris for the access to the private funds he'd set aside for his daughter in the event of their untimely demise. It was a rather large sum.

Tris pursed her lips, scrunching her nose as she looked over her shoulder at the shrinking city. "I don't mind." She muttered.

Valden nodded, agreeing with her completely.

They arrived in the small town of Dartmoor after a two-hour walk. They'd been driven off the road a few times, from when a late-night messenger or traveler would make his way along the lonely stretch of road that spanned the moor that stretched out from Ninver in all directions. The road had continued along the sea and now wound like a thread on a bobbin in a tight cove, nearly invisible amongst the habitation that obscured the cliffs.

Silently, they made their way down the cliffs to the small fishing village nestled among the rocky outcrops and down through houses to the lonely dock.

"Where's our ship, Father?" Tris asked quietly, whispering in the near dead silence of the night.

"It'll be here." Valden said, with more calm then he felt. "I asked Professor Giles to help us out. Have you known Giles to ever break a promise?"

Tris shifted from booted foot to booted foot. "No." she mumbled, tugging at one of her bouncy curls anxiously.

"It'll be fine, Trisana." Valden reassured her, wrapping an arm around his girl's shoulders.

They fell quiet, and Valden strained his ears for any sound of waves slapping wood. He only heard the cry of night fowl and the quiet rush of water against water. He took a deep breath- the sea breeze was lifting his hair and blowing it around his face, filling

"I… I can hear them." Tris whispered, clenching her Father's sleeve. "I can… hear the ship!"

"What?" Valden whispered. All he heard was silence.

"The wind." Tris muttered, taking a small, involuntary step from her father as she spoke. "Sometimes, when the winds blows certain ways I can… hear things." She seemed to shudder a little. "Mother never liked that."

"No, I'd imagine she wouldn't." Valden murmured, an eye brow raised as the ghostly glow of a ships lantern drifted out of the fog. "Especially if what you were saying made sense and you weren't cracked."

Tris said nothing but took her Fathers hand again.

They were well underway by the time the dawn broke over the horizon. Not that they could tell.

"A summer squall, sir!" the First Mate bellowed jovially as he wrestled with the rudder. "A wicked breeze, some choppy waters- no ship killer storms here. It'll just be a bit bumpy so- ah, yes. Vomit over the side, if you would."

Valden groaned in response, too busy heaving his morning's breakfast of hardtack and biscuits over the side.

Tris, on the other hand, was enthralled. She felt happier than she'd been in her life; here, surrounded by the elements, her Father whisking her away from her mother to some far away country where they could both be a family together.

She smiled shyly and hugged herself as a strong gust teased her hair from out of its ribbon, letting the copper strands twist themselves into snarls she knew she'd regret later. Tris frowned as the wind whisked on; she turned to try and follow the air with her eyes but soon gave up. It was quite impossible to see air, after all.

Tris sighed, picking at the rail with a chewed fingernail. Despite how wonderful it made her feel, playing with winds was not normal behavior. Not unless you were an accredited mage of a Circle temple or University, at least. No matter how much her father denied it, Tris was not normal. She couldn't help but think that if she was just a little less of a freak than… none of this would've happened.

Suddenly sick of the empty water, Tris turned on her heel and strode below decks.

"What do you mean I can't withdraw?" Valden cried. His sharp tone made several of the clients around the bank turn to look at him. "What're you looking at?" he snapped at the closest staring man before turning back to the bank teller.

"I'm sorry sir." The teller said calmly. Obviously he was used to this happening several times a day. "But no money was submitted to your foreign accounts-"

"Is there a note, at least?" Valden asked desperately. His hand tightened on Tris's. Fear for his daughter clouded his eyes.

"It's postmarked for this morning." The teller said, slipping the panicking man a slip of parchment. "Obviously someone found it prudent to send you a message by mage mirrors." The banker sniffed as it was snatched from his hands. "Next!" he called, waving the next customer in line forward, shooing a dazed Valden off to the side.

Please be good news. Valden begged silently, nearly tearing the paper in his hast to read the thing.

Valden,

I don't have much times for pleasantries. It turns out your enemies are a lot more influential and impatient that I thought. They've sent out a warrant for your arrest in Capchen- I'm afraid you're a wanted man my friend. In addition, they've assigned a guard to me. For protection from you, they claim, but you know as well as I that it's merely an excuse to keep an eye on me at all times.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get you're the needed funds- to do so would tip off the people watching and lead them straight to you. The only thing to do is to go underground; the Mire is probably the safest place for you now, paradoxically. I know you hoped you'd left that life behind forever but your daughter is counting on you. Poverty is the greatest protection against the rich, as you well know. The wealthy hate being reminded of what awaits them if they misstep and tend to ignore-

There were a few rogue inkblots and smudges that dotted the page. It was crinkled from where it looked as if someone had crinkled it in their fist.

-do your best to stay unnoticed. No one pays attention to the simple dockworker; lay low until you can move comfortably. In addition, I suggest you return to your original name. You changed it to Darra's when you were married, no?

But you already knew all of this and thought of it the second I admitted I couldn't get you the money. Please stay safe my friend; I'm keeping your study neat for you.

Sincerely,

Lyton Giles

Valden took a deep shuddering gasp, sagging back against the cool stone wall of the bank. No money, no job, and no place to stay… it was his worst nightmare since he'd risen out of the muck to make himself a businessman.

He'd have to do it again, only with Tris.

Tris. The daughter he loved more than himself, more than riches, then fake happiness. He'd have to subject her to everything she'd been taught since birth to reject. She had to blend in, be part of the crowd. They couldn't afford for either of them to stand out because of accent or clothing. They'd have to shed everything that made themselves individuals and become a faceless body in ragged clothing.

Valden suddenly felt as if he held the entire sky on his broad shoulders. He looked down at his daughter and sighed. Tris seemed to have already picked up on their situation and was calm, calmer than he was, anyway.

"We'll be alright, Da." Tris's voice already seemed to be picking up the native slang as they made their way out of the bank and into the busy street.

"I hope so." Valden murmured as he crumpled the note into his hand and simultaneously took Tris's small hand. They ducked a horse cart and a farmer toting his wares and disappeared into the streets of Summersea.