Fic: Flyboys, Part Seventeen

[jeriendhal]

There was sharp knock at the door and Rolas sighed, turning away from the window. “Yes, come in please,” he called out, wondering what he was going to be asked to decide upon this time. He smiled when he saw that it was Bel who entered the room. Then he stopped smiling when he saw the expression on her face and she shut the door behind herself. “What’s the matter, Bel?”

Eyes smoldering, she paced over to where he sat and poked his chest with a fingerclaw. “You know, if you’re going to marry a girl, it would be nice to wait for her to propose first.”

Rolas felt his face go flush. “Ah, oh Goddess, my Viz-- I mean Rulf came to you, did he? Look, I’m horribly sorry, he’s got this idea in his head that we ought to be married...”

“It wasn’t Rulf, though I suppose I should expect that next,” she said, “it was your man, Artineth.”

“Artineth suggested you propose to me?”

“Well, not in so many words. It was all more along the lines of ‘Lord Rollie looks a’ful lonely these days’ and stories about the grand times he had with his Dear Emmie. Mind you, I don’t dare ask him to quit it. It’d be like kicking a cubling.”

Rolas covered eyes and groaned again. “I’m very sorry, Bellander. I’ll tell him to stop.”

“And what this about Rulf coming to me?”

“Oh, er, nothing,” Rolas said, and put on a smile. “He just had a silly suggestion about you, um, being the next, er, Lady Greycoat.”

“Silly”

“Well, ah, not silly per se. More like, um...”

“Rude? Irritating? High-handed? Matronizing?”

“Slightly premature?” he said weakly. “I mean, Mother has only been dead a fortnight, and there are a lot women in the world.” He bit down on his tongue as Bel’s eyes narrowed.

“So you don’t think I’d make an acceptable Lady Greycoat?”

He rested his forehead on the desk and pulled a handkerchief (black of course) out of his pocket and began waving it in surrender.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked archly.

“It means I beg your forgiveness and humbly request we begin this conversation again. Please, Bellander?”

“Fair enough,” she said. Bel sat down on the chair across from his desk and allowed her face to soften. “Good afternoon, Rollie. Some people have mentioned that I’d should apply for the position of Lady Greycoat. What’s your opinion of the situation?”

“I think you’d make an absolutely marvelous Lady Greycoat. As I have observed and has been pointed out to me, you are intelligent, beautiful and empathic. I also just happen to be in hopelessly in love with you,” he said. “There are a few negatives involved, however.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking amused. Amused was good, he reminded himself, much better than Annoyed.. “Such as?” Bel prompted.

“One: The title of Lady Greycoat is a job, as much as any commoner’s. Though I’ll admit its mostly paperwork, and no one is expecting you to till a field or butcher meat. You might not like it, and quitting it can be difficult without the permission of the Privy Council.”

“Fair enough. Any other points you wish to mention?”

He nodded. “Yes. Two: There is the expectation of you eventually producing cubs. It’s considered rather essential, really. Bearing children is the Den Mother’s gift to women and all that, and modern medicine has made extraordinary leaps in the safety of childbirth, but it is still a great personal hardship and can occasionally lead to very painful and horrid ways to die. You might want to avoid that.”

Bel was grinning now. “Ah, thank you for being so enlightened.”

“Hard to avoid being enlightened in my case. Mother hemorrhaged when she was birthing me and Rulf and her heart stopped briefly. Made for some marvelous ammunition when we were younger and she wanted to lecture us for frightening her in some way.”

“Ouch.”

“Quite. Moving on, finally: There is, of course, the distinct possibility that you don’t love me. You might, in fact, love Rulf. I know he’s in love with you himself.”

“Or I might not love either of you,” Bel pointed out.

“Oh.” Rolas swallowed. “That’s a possibility too.”

“We’ll return to that in a bit. Anything else?”

“Just one. It’s far too soon for me to be married, or even engaged. Mother’s funeral pyre has barely cooled, and frankly the idea of being mated to someone, anyone, is the last thing I want to think about.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I always could remove that worry. I could revive the old tradition of marriage raiding, drag you off to my den and claim your body as mine in the name of the Holy Den Mother.”

Despite his nervousness, Rolas couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh honestly, does anyone believe that ever really happened outside the more dreadful class of cardback novels?” He paused, thinking over what she said. “Er, in saying that, do you mean...?”

“Yes,” Bel said. “I like the idea of being Lady Greycoat very much.

And I do believe I love you. You are intelligent, handsome and quick of wit, when you aren’t being tongue-tied in a rather charming way.”

“Oh.” He thought for a moment. ‘But I thought you and Rulf were rather... I thought you two were getting on with each other quite well.”

“We were and still are. But as for you,” she said, pausing for a moment. “You’re the one who’s eyes keeping lingering on the sky.”

“Is it so horrible of me, that I want to fly still, even with everything that’s happened?” Rolas asked her. “I know there is so much to do...”

Bel placed her hand across his muzzle. “If there are two of us, the burden will be shared. And perhaps you will be able to fly once again. I want you to fly again.”

“Why?” he asked.

“So I can fly with you.”

TBC