Happy
Ever After
Chapter One
By Cheezey
As he stepped out of the silver and black transport cruiser that had just landed in front of the estate’s mountainside manor home, Cossack glanced down and smoothed out the few wrinkles in his fleet uniform that it had acquired during the ride. Normally he was not one to fuss over appearances, but he had dealt with enough of Doom’s nobility being one of them himself that he knew what they generally wanted and expected, especially since King Zarkon had insisted he, as his fleet commander, make a show of speaking with each of the noble house high seats personally to invite them to the upcoming state meeting.
It had taken all morning and most of the afternoon to get through them all, and he was finally on the last stop of the nine on his list. He wished all of them had been as simple to invite as his parents, the high seats of his own house, had been. Unfortunately for Cossack it seemed that rather than accept gracefully and say they’d show up, at least half of the nobles would rather huff and complain to him about how inconvenient it was that they had to rearrange their busy schedules at the last moment for the king—not that they would have had the guts to say that to Zarkon’s royal face, of course—and the other half just wanted to bore him to tears by showing off this or that in their estate, or asking him how his family was, and oh, wasn’t he married yet?
That was a separate gripe of the fleet commander’s, that the nobles seemed to have a hang-up about any member of their circle over the age of twenty-five, especially if in a prominent public position such as being a head honcho in the military, not being married off and producing little nobles to ultimately succeed them. Since Cossack had not only well surpassed twenty-five but was firmly into his third decade, the remarks came fast and furious, to the point where the commander actively dreaded attending any of the nobility functions. If they were not dropping hints or giving snooty little looks of disapproval that he was not permitted, under pain of lecture from the royalty and/or his mother, to tell them to go do something indecent to themselves for—they were busy trying to pawn off their daughters, sisters, or whatever other eligible ladies they could think of on him. Not that he had anything personal against the fine women he was set up with, but of the ones that did not compare in attractiveness to one of Haggar’s robeast creations, inevitably they were either incredibly insipid, high on themselves, or did not appreciate his, as Cossack considered it, brilliant wit and vivid sense of humor. Additionally, he did not appreciate being nagged nor all the pomp and ceremony that went along with the whole marriage deal.
As he approached the manor that belonged to his family, Cossack briefly wondered if former commander Yurak, who had also been unmarried and a few years older than Cossack at the time of his unfortunate demise, had put up with similar nonsense. Not that Cossack particularly cared; he had never cared much for Yurak on a personal level due to his humorless and stern disapproval of Cossack back when he had served under him, but Cossack had the feeling, as he walked up to the grand doors of the deceased commander’s familial home, that if he could ask him it would be a rare circumstance that both of them would have agreed on.
Cossack sighed as he hit the buzzer. At least this is the last stop. He had saved visiting the high seat of house Tonorm’oith, Lady Kuryaki, Yurak’s mother, for last. He knew her only by reputation and vague memory, and he felt slightly on edge. He had just come from speaking with the high seats of former commander Mogor’s house, and the reception toward him at house Garat’eth as the one who had been promoted to their dead son’s job had been less than warm. Cossack did not understand what the big deal was, as he was not the one who had advised Mogor to make the brilliant decision to plunge headlong into the political mess that landed him on the fatal end of Lotor’s blade, but if he had learned anything growing up in the first circle of Doom’s nobility, it was that by and large, the nobles had enough issues to fill the Pit of Skulls. He had no reason to assume Lady Kuryaki would feel any different toward him than Lord Galdor or Lady Morgiele, especially since Yurak’s end had been no less violent and sudden than Mogor’s.
The doors pulled open and when Cossack saw no figure on eye level to greet him, he glanced down curiously. What stood before him was what could only be described as a walking metal teddy bear with fur. The creature stood as tall as Cossack’s mid thigh, and was round and bulky, shaped like a rounded bear of sorts that walked upright. Though it was constructed of metal and had robotic eyes and a light for a mouth, fur grew in tufts on its joints. It looked up at him curiously, and its “mouth” blinked as a mechanical voice came from it. “May I help you?” it greeted him.
“Uh, yeah,” the stunned Cossack said, before he remembered his manners long enough to stop gawking at the strange creature. He stood up straight and cleared his throat. “I am Fleet Commander Cossack the Terrible, sent here personally by his Royal Highness King Zarkon to deliver a personal invitation to Lady Kuryaki, High Seat of House Tonorm’oith.”
“Please step inside,” the creature bleeped back, and gestured for him to enter. Cossack followed it into the foyer. On the far side of the hall, beside a grand staircase that led to a second level, Cossack noticed an immense portrait of Commander Yurak. The painting depicted the deceased first son of house Tonorm’oith in full dress uniform, with his glowing light sword held at his side. His face was stern, just like Cossack always recalled it being, and his eyes, both the natural and cybernetic one, stared down at him in a humorless and warning glare.
After looking at the painting for a moment, its eyes seemingly staring harshly at him no matter where in the room he stood, Cossack shook his head. “Yeesh, he couldn’t even crack a smile for that,” he muttered under his breath as the creature led him down the hall and into a sitting room.
The servant creature gestured to a set of plush chairs and a serving cart that had glasses, tumblers, and a few bottles of liquor on it. “Please make yourself comfortable while I get the lady of the house,” it told him, and then waddled out leaving Cossack alone.
While he waited, Cossack surveyed the drink cart. “Hmm, let’s see what she’s got in here.” The first things he saw were a bottle of wine—one of his family’s finest vintages, he noted—and a bottle of imported Tyrusian whiskey. That was premium liquor with a premium kick, and it seemed to Cossack like just what he needed after spending the better part of the day dealing with long-winded and stuffy nobility. He had no sooner poured himself a glass and taken a sip when he heard a voice behind him.
“A visit from King Zarkon’s fleet commander? And to what do we owe this unexpected honor?”
Cossack whirled around and found him face to face with one of the nobility of the manor. She bore some resemblance to Yurak, although she did not have the canine-like ears that much of the Tonorm’oith clan, their departed first son included, sported and instead had the slender pointed blue ones found on many Doomites. She also had a light coat of azure fur upon her blue skin, although it was noticeably finer and more silken than that of the man in the painting, and it cascaded seamlessly into a mane of hair that ended just below her shoulders. Her face held the same pupilless golden eyes found in much of Doom’s nobility, tastefully adorned with light makeup. She wore a high-necked, form-fitting sleeveless dress that hung all the way to the floor and accentuated a curvy feminine frame. Around her shoulders was an expensive looking shawl of a shimmering translucent material, and she wore very little in the way of jewelry, aside from a platinum choker around her neck that set off the hue of her scarf.
An appreciative, if not somewhat flirtatious look crossed Cossack’s features when he saw the attractive noblewoman approach, and he straightened considerably as he regarded her. He remembered that Yurak had a sister, and additionally he recalled remarking years ago to one of his fleet buddies when he saw her briefly in passing that for having such an unattractive—at least in his opinion—son, Yurak’s mother had not been too hard on the eyes either. Still, Cossack had no idea that his sister was such a looker as well.
“Hello,” Cossack greeted the woman with his best imitation of a charming smile. “King Zarkon sent me here personally,” he shifted his stance to a more impressive and dramatic one, “to invite Lady Kuryaki as high seat of house Tonorm’oith to an emergency summit meeting with the leaders of the first circle of nobility with him tomorrow.”
“I see,” the noble replied with a polite nod as she regarded him. “So you’re Fleet Commander Cossack—first son of house Aldar’ach I believe, correct? We haven’t met formally, have we?”
Cossack sipped at the whiskey and nodded to her. “Yes, I’m Commander Cossack the Terrible,” he replied, introducing himself and emphasizing his official-unofficial title as he did so.
She took few steps toward him. “Ah yes, I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
“You have, huh?” he asked, trying his best to be nonchalant, but unable to hide the hint of the smile that tugged at his lips at having his terribly ruthless and glorious reputation recognized.
“Oh yes,” she confirmed with another nod. “Just because this house doesn’t have anyone in the military circles these days doesn’t mean we don’t keep up on things. It takes notable accomplishment to win a Distinguished Skull, and to get a promotion to such a position as yours.”
Upon hearing that, Cossack’s smile broke into a full-fledged and proud grin. Praise and recognition was always sweet, but praise and recognition from a pretty face, especially one related to a former superior that had always given him a hard time in the past, was even sweeter. “Yeah, well,” he said smoothly, figuring that a bit of flattery and family ego-stroking back would not hurt, “I guess with your brother being in the fleet as long as he was and having earned a couple himself, you’d know all about it.”
The noble blinked at the visiting commander. “My brother?”
The ol’ Cossack charm never fails, Cossack thought smugly as the noble came to his side, seemingly impressed with him if the interested smile she favored him with was any indication. Swishing the ice cubes and whiskey around in his glass, he casually leaned his hand on the edge of the drink cart, supporting his weight on it in what he thought was a rather suave manner as he answered her. “Your brother Yur—”
“—Ack!” Cossack exclaimed, startled, as he leaned a tad too heavily on the wheeled drink cart. The tray spun out wildly to the side, causing the commander to lose his balance and fall flat on the floor in a loud and ungraceful crash. His flailing limbs managed to catch the handle on the side of the cart, causing it to topple and dump its contents over onto the floor. Fortunately most of the bottles were of thick enough material not to shatter on contact, but the open bottle of Tyrusian whiskey still poured out and soaked the rug, and at least two of the crystal glasses broke. As icing on the proverbial cake, the crystal tumbler of whiskey he’d had in his hands smashed to pieces on the floor beside him, spraying the shirt of his uniform with the liquor it once held.
Cossack looked up at the startled expression on the noble’s face and his own awkward position, and groaned at his own klutziness. Unable to think of anything even remotely appropriate to say, he flashed her a sheepish look. “So, uh, that pretty much killed any chance of me impressing you, didn’t it?” He sighed. “Sorry.”
The noble laughed lightly and extended her hand to assist him up. “Don’t worry about it, the Berbils can clean it up,” she assured him as she helped hoist him to his feet. He smoothed the rumpled uniform out and shook a shard or two of glass out of his whiskey-stained cape while she surveyed his appearance. “They can clean your cape and shirt as well, if your schedule permits you to wait. I imagine you wouldn’t want to go before King Zarkon like this, anyway, right?”
Cossack considered for a moment. “If you don’t mind, sure.” He supposed he ought to stick around and make small talk and apologize to Lady Kuryaki when she showed up anyhow, and he didn’t mind talking to her daughter. Unlike the high seat’s son, the woman he spoke with seemed like friendly enough company, and Cossack wondered briefly why his own mother never seemed to find prospects like that to set him up with. Then he realized the choker around her neck was probably a marriage adornment and she’d already been married off. Figures, he thought as she reached up to help him take off his cape.
The noble took the cape and shouted out a strange name, presumably one of the robotic bear-servants, and then turned toward him expectantly as he pulled off his shoulder armor so he could get his shirt off. “It shouldn’t take too long,” she assured him.
“He didn’t say I had to be back by a certain time, just to report back when I finished,” Cossack told her as he started to peel off his shirt.
As he struggled to get it over his helmet, he heard her chuckle. “You could just take the helmet off, you know, Commander,” she pointed out, and helped him extricate it from where an edge had caught on one of the helmet’s horns.
“With how things’ve been going, I might break something else and regret it.” He noticed that she brushed against him pleasantly as she took hold of the soiled garment, and also that she found his remark at least amusing if her smile was any indication. Encouraged by that, he eyed her suggestively, and conveniently pretended he never noticed the choker on her neck. “So,” he began in a flirtatious tone, “I never knew that Yurak had such a gorgeous sister. What’s your name, anyway, and are you by any chance free tonight? I’m off duty, and I know this great place near Castle Doom...”
The noble laughed again, that time heartily, and turned toward him with her yellow eyes alit with amusement while she passed the dirtied cape and shirt to the servant that had just stepped into the room long enough to take them off her hands. After a quick instruction to the robotic bear, who obediently toddled off with them, she turned back to Cossack. “Commander Cossack, I’m Lady Kuryaki. My daughter lives with her husband, and isn’t visiting I’m afraid.”
Cossack’s self-assured suave smile melted quickly into a wide-eyed look of shock when he realized that he had just hit on Yurak’s mother, a woman who was easily twenty-something years his senior if not more, and the high seat of house Tonorm’oith—after breaking her liquor cart no less. Whoops.
“Um, uh, well...” Cossack stammered, his blue face flushing a shade of purple as he regarded her, “Lady Kuryaki, if I apologize and grovel well enough, I don’t suppose there’s any way I can convince you not to report this to King Zarkon? I think the whole point of him sending me out here to deliver the invite personally was so that the high seats of the houses wouldn’t be insulted.”
Kuryaki raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to apologize for considering me attractive enough to come on to?”
Cossack frowned as he realized he had inadvertently dug himself in deeper. “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he corrected hastily. “It’s just that you’re older—”
“Old enough to be your mother, you mean?” she said sharply with her eyes fixed on him.
He sighed again, unable to think of anything else even remotely witty to say that might bail him out of the hot water he had put himself into. Mentally he resigned himself to a forthcoming verbal lashing not only from her, but likely also from King Zarkon and anyone else she might relay the story to, probably his mother knowing his luck. It would not be the first such lecture Cossack had received about speaking before he thought and odds were that it would not be the last. “I’m sorry,” he said finally in the hopes that the simple but direct approach would keep him from getting roasted too badly.
To Cossack’s surprise, Kuryaki did not lay into him but smiled back at him faintly instead. “Don’t be, at least not about that. It’s rather flattering to have caught the eye of someone your age.”
“So does this mean you’re not mad about the mess?”
“I could have done without you breaking my crystal and soaking half a bottle of Tyrusian whiskey into my hand-woven Gloomite rug, but even if I am old enough to be your mother, you’re a little big to put over my knee and spank, Commander,” she responded wryly. “And I suspect someone with your ‘terrible’ reputation would probably enjoy it.”
That time it was Cossack’s turn to raise an eyebrow. If he had not known better, he would have sworn Yurak’s mother just hit on him that time, or at least cracked a joke, something her son had hardly ever done in the years he had known him. “If I may say so, Lady Kuryaki, you look pretty good for your age,” Cossack said, his ego unable to resist the temptation to test if her intent was indeed flirtatious. If she was not concerned about an age difference, then he certainly was not. His only criteria for a good time were that the lady be reasonably attractive, willing, and fun. “I really did think you were Yurak’s sister.”
Kuryaki’s smile widened. “I know. But fortunately for you, I wasn’t. Sekavi’s husband has a rather jealous streak and I doubt he would’ve appreciated you asking her to dinner.” She beckoned for him to follow her. “Actually, I was quite young when I married, and not much older when I had my son. But the years have treated me well, and I suppose that’s consolation enough considering what they’ve taken from me... first my husband twelve years ago in battle, and then my son the same way barely a decade later. Did you know either of them?”
Cossack nodded. “Yurak was the force captain of my unit back when I joined the fleet before he got promoted out.” The commander left out that he had found Yurak to be a stern, humorless, and arrogant jerk, despite the skill and strategy his former superior had been commended for as an officer.
“He was a good soldier, the best of the best,” Kuryaki said proudly. “But that Voltron nonsense...” Her voice trailed off in a sigh. “Well, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. You have his job now, after all.”
“Voltron sucks,” Cossack agreed.
Kuryaki smiled ruefully. “Crude way to phrase it, but I can’t say I disagree.” She headed through the arch toward the hallway with Cossack behind her. “Let me show you around while your clothes are cleaned, and you can tell me about this meeting King Zarkon called.”
* * *
Late the following afternoon, Cossack was fast asleep on the couch in his quarters when a robot sentry showed up and told him that Haggar wanted to see him in her lab. Grumbling and groggy, Cossack made his way down to meet up with the witch. She glanced up from her scrying crystal when she heard the commander come in. “It’s about time,” she greeted him.
“The robot only showed up ten minutes ago, give me a break,” Cossack retorted irritably. “So what do you want?”
“As you know, Zarkon called a meeting with the high seats of the nobility. He’s filling them in on the situation with Prince Lotor’s imprisonment, and of course, making the formal announcement about his marriage to Queen Merla.” Her tone was not without a significant trace of bitterness.
Cossack also grimaced at the mention of Doom’s new queen. Like Haggar, he was no fan of Merla’s, although his reasons for loathing her were significantly different than the witch’s. Haggar resented Merla’s place as Zarkon’s wife, while Cossack just had a general dislike of her for being an uppity bitch that needed to be knocked down several pegs. “I’m sure they’ll be just as thrilled as we are that he married her,” he said as he joined Haggar’s side. “Is there any news about Prince Lotor?”
The hooded figure shook her head. “Other than Galaxy Garrison reasserting their decision to have him executed for war crimes, no. Princess Allura’s plea to spare his life was rejected. Had it been on any other matter, I would have found some satisfaction in that Arusian fool’s power being thwarted,” she said with a sigh.
Although she was not the type to indulge in expressive displays of emotion, Cossack knew Haggar well enough to know that she was genuinely worried about Lotor. The prince was not as dear to her as his father, but she viewed Lotor as an extension of Zarkon and as the king’s only son, she was loyal to him. Cossack echoed her sentiment, for he too was loyal to Doom’s crown, and like her he was also concerned about the situation Lotor was in. The commander had trouble believing that someone like Lotor was destined to meet such an inglorious end as sentence and execution at enemy hands, but unfortunately the situation was out of their hands. Zarkon had given no orders to send in the fleet to free him by force and in fact had issued ones to the contrary, forbidding them to act against the Galaxy Alliance directly, supposedly due to some edict originating from the Drule Council. Whether all that meant that Zarkon was merely waiting until he had a better plan in place to free Lotor or that he had finally decided to wash his hands of the troublesome prince for good and let Galaxy Garrison do the dirty work for him remained to be seen.
“Maybe Zarkon is getting some input from the nobility on the whole deal,” Cossack mused.
Haggar shrugged. “Perhaps. Time will tell. One thing that is in Prince Lotor’s favor is that the Galaxy Alliance is a bureaucracy through and through. Even sentenced, it’ll be weeks before any execution takes place, and that’s assuming it all goes through with no appeal and on time. Anyway, the meeting should be almost over. King Zarkon told me that he wanted to speak with us right afterward, so I sent for you myself. If you’re ready, we can head up.”
“Sure,” Cossack agreed with a nod, and followed the witch out. When they arrived, the throne room was still shut and two sentries were posted outside, indicating that whatever was going on inside was a private meeting and no disturbances were permitted unless it was an emergency.
Letting out a bored sigh, Cossack leaned back against one of the columns in the hall. “How much do you want to bet someone is making some stupid speech or asking questions that no one cares about that King Zarkon or one of the others will make an equally long speech answering?”
The witch cackled in amusement. “Your respect for the high seats of your nobility is underwhelming.”
“I respect them well enough, I just wish they’d learn to get to the point,” Cossack grumbled. “Some of them are so old and senile they forget what they’re saying halfway through, only to start all over again. I know, because I had to see all the high seats yesterday to invite them to that stupid meeting, and Dasavar told me the same damn story about the statues in his ballroom three times.”
Haggar’s luminous yellow eyes fixed themselves intently on the complaining commander. “From what I’ve heard, you don’t find them all old and boring.”
Instantly Cossack straightened and looked back over at the witch, feeling slightly defensive. Haggar could not possibly know about his run-in with Kuryaki, could she? “What do you mean by that?”
She grinned back cattily at Cossack, but before she could say anything the throne room doors opened and an entourage of nobles began to file out, chatting amongst themselves and separating the witch and the commander on opposite sides of the hallway as they passed. As he glanced over the crowd, Cossack spotted Lady Kuryaki in the middle of group. He eyed the passing noble as casually as he could, wondering if she had told anyone about what had happened the day before, and if so, what exactly she had said.
Just when he thought she would pass without acknowledgment, Kuryaki glanced over at Cossack and made brief but direct eye contact, accompanied with a mysterious smile, before she turned back to the noble she had been conversing with. Cossack smiled back at her, but shifted uneasily where he stood as he did so. He was still trying to guess at whether or not she had said anything when he felt a hard thump on his back. “Hello there, son,” his father’s familiar voice boomed from behind. Cossack turned and saw his parents, Lord Tadack and Lady Visycka of house Aldar’ach beside him, both sporting surprisingly happy looks.
“Hey,” Cossack greeted them, somewhat puzzled and disconcerted by the expressions on his parents’ faces considering what he knew the meeting was about, that it had run late, and that his father especially normally detested long meetings. “Uh, have a good time?” he asked nervously.
“You know how it is with state affairs, some good, some bad,” his mother said with a shrug before smoothing a stray lock of her hair—the same color and wild consistency as her son’s, only styled better—back into place. “But we couldn’t be happier with a little private deal we worked out.”
Cossack’s father nodded in agreement with his wife. “I want you to stop by the manor tonight whenever you get off duty. We have some celebrating to do.”
The commander looked back at his father blankly. “We do?” Must be some sweet deal, he mused as he watched his mother nod enthusiastically back at him. He did feel a measure of relief that they made no mention of his visit to house Tonorm’oith. Perhaps Kuryaki had not said anything after all...
“Oh yes,” Visycka asserted with a triumphant grin, and out of habit straightened her son’s helmet. “We’ll see you tonight!”
With that, his parents caught up to the rest of the departing nobles, leaving the confused Cossack and the quietly observing Haggar in the hall. “What was that all about?” he wondered aloud, absently shifting his helmet from how his mother had moved it.
“The king will see the two of you now,” a robot in the throne room doorway announced, interrupting the thought. Right away Cossack and Haggar gave the sentry a nod of acknowledgement and went inside to meet with Zarkon.
When the duo approached the foot of his throne, Zarkon smiled in greeting. “Glad you two could make it, and on time even,” he said, and then glanced at the timepiece nearby. “Or maybe Dasavar just ran his mouth longer than I thought. Anyway, I’d like to talk to you about the meeting.”
“Of course, sire,” Haggar said with a bow.
Cossack also bowed respectfully before the king. “Lay it on us.”
“Absolutely. Oh, but before we get started, let me be the first to congratulate you, Cossack.”
The commander looked up at his liege in puzzlement. “Huh? On what, sire?”
“On what? On your engagement, of course!” Zarkon exclaimed. “I had no idea that my spontaneous marriage to Merla would put the love bug in the air.”
“It put something in the air all right,” Haggar muttered under her breath.
Cossack meanwhile was completely dumbstruck. “What?” he choked out. “But I’m—”
Zarkon settled back in his throne. “There’s no need to be coy about it, it’s certainly not a secret with how your mother was gushing about it before the formal proceedings got started. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was happy to marry you off,” he said with a laugh.
Haggar eyed Cossack curiously. “You didn’t tell me things had gone that far.”
“That’s because I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Cossack protested heatedly. An ominous feeling of unease settled over him that he had a sinking suspicion had something to do with the celebrating his parents mentioned. He fervently hoped his mother had just had a bit too much wine—though in his family, that was a tall order—and was talking out of the bottle rather than hatching up some scheme to marry him against his will. “I’m not engaged,” he insisted. “I don’t even have a girlfriend. Well, at least not one I’d marry,” he amended quickly, his ego unwilling to allow it to be implied that being single was anything but his choice, “I mean, Cossack the Terrible can charm any woman he wants anytime!”
“Lady Kuryaki must have found you charming enough yesterday then,” Zarkon pointed out with the amused gleam still in his eyes, “considering she and your mother apparently just finalized the deal over cocktails before the meeting.” The king twirled his scepter in his hands. “I never thought of her as your type, but who knows, maybe she can whip some class into you, Cossack.”
“That’d be beyond any mortal’s capabilities I’m afraid,” Haggar pointed out snidely. “Although I can just imagine the look on Yurak’s face from beyond finding out that you’ll be his stepfather. I’d almost be willing to see that fool again just for that.”
Oblivious to the humor and insult in both their remarks, Cossack was still busy trying to wrap his brain around the concept. “But I just met her yesterday...”
“My, that is fast,” Haggar remarked sarcastically.
“Anyway,” Zarkon continued, “you have my sincerest congratulations, and I’m sure if Merla were here she’d give the same. Probably even Lotor, too, but after all, he’s why we’re having this meeting, so we should move onto the matter at hand.”
Haggar nodded to the king. “As you wish, sire.”
Grateful for the change of subject, Cossack too gave Zarkon a nod of acknowledgment. Suddenly devoting his mental energies toward a means to freeing Prince Lotor from his prison and death sentence by the Galaxy Alliance was a welcome distraction for the commander from trying to think up a way out of his own no-win situation.
* * *
Once the strategy session was over and he was dismissed, Cossack wasted no time in heading out to his family’s estate. Located in the lusher warm lands of Doom’s equator, the manor of the high seats and family of house Aldar’ach was the magnificent centerpiece of the largest and most profitable Doom grape plantation on the planet.
Not bothering to knock or even announce his arrival, Cossack barged into the family home, past slaves and servants that knew the first son and bowed in respect to him as he passed, and found his parents and the two youngest of his siblings—his eleven year old brother Tadran and his eighteen year old sister Cassri—in the dining room, seated at the table. As was customary for the house, several decanters of fine wine were set out on the table along with a selection of abundant and decadent finger foods.
When he came in he slammed his hands down on the table. “What are you doing to me?” he demanded, his golden eyes alit with outrage.
“Yeesh, you’re in a huff,” Cassri muttered sarcastically as she sipped at her wine goblet. A perfect blend of her parents in appearance, she had the same wild mane of hair that Cossack inherited from their mother, tamed into place through being tied into a ponytail with multiple bands, and the slim build of their father. Cossack’s more muscular frame came from Visycka’s side of the family, and he was one of only two of his siblings that had inherited it. It was quite an advantage for beating them up when necessary.
“Hi Cossack,” Tadran, a short and lanky child with short gray hair and a smile even more impish than that of his eldest brother’s, said with a snicker.
Cossack glared at his younger siblings only for a moment before he returned his disapproving look to their parents. Visycka sighed and motioned to an empty chair. “Sit down, dear, and calm down. Have some food and wine.”
“I don’t want food and wine, I want to find out what the hell you’re railroading me into,” Cossack ranted, but sat down anyway.
His little brother began humming the wedding march, while his sister giggled in mischievous delight. His parents ignored them both and regarded Cossack calmly, paying little attention to their eldest son’s obvious outrage. “So, who told you?” Tadack asked.
“King Zarkon congratulated me on my upcoming marriage,” Cossack said sulkily. “Imagine my surprise to find out about my engagement.”
“Well, son, it is time that you settled down,” his father replied with a shrug, and then took a savage bite out of his chicken leg.
“With Lady Kuryaki?” Cossack exclaimed dubiously, growing even more agitated as it became clear that there had been no mistake or joke, as he had tried to convince himself it had to be on the ride over, and that his parents were indeed serious.
Visycka smiled warmly at her son and laced her fingers together satisfactorily, causing her expensive bracelets, one of which was the ostentatious marriage adornment she had received from Tadack years ago, to clang together in front of her goblet. “She’s a lovely and respectable lady. When you think about it, she’s ideal for you, and you’ll make a fine pair. I just wish you’d told me sooner that you preferred a more experienced woman as opposed to a young and naïve girl, Cossack. I’d have considered the widows of the nobility in finding a bride for you from the start.”
“At least now we know for sure he’s not gay,” Cassri chimed in helpfully.
Cossack shot his younger sister a death glare. “If all women were like you, I’d consider it.”
His sister’s mature reply was to blow him a raspberry and drink more of her wine, while his mother motioned for one of the servants to bring him a drink. Cossack took the offered beverage and chugged most of it in one unceremonious gulp. “So when were you going to tell me that I was engaged?”
“Tonight of course,” Tadack told him. “Why do you think we asked you to come out here on such short notice? We know how busy you are.”
“He’ll be busier soon making wedding plans,” Tadran snickered to Cassri, who dissolved into mutual giggles with him.
That time the glare Cossack cast his siblings was accompanied with a warning snarl before he turned back to his parents. “Do I even get a say in this?”
Visycka arched an eyebrow at her objecting son. “Every other time we’ve given you a say, you say ‘no’. What would you have said this time?”
“No!” Cossack bellowed back in frustration, as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Exactly,” his mother declared with a triumphant smile. “I think you’re just trying to be difficult, Cossack, so we just skipped that tedious step this time. You know you have to get married sooner or later.”
Cossack frowned. “I do?”
“We all do,” Tadack informed him with a stern look. “It’s our duty in keeping the noble lines strong. We’ve told you that.”
“But this time you’re not even giving me a choice about who I marry!”
Letting out a sigh, Visycka leaned forward against the table and met her son’s gaze pointedly. “We’ve given you plenty of choices, Cossack, and you’ve turned them all down. Every single one in at least ten years now.” She shook her finger for emphasis as she spoke. “So now we’re taking the pressure of making the choice off of you. Besides, you obviously liked her yesterday if you hit on her.”
“I was just thinking about dinner and getting her in bed,” Cossack argued bluntly.
“Well, you gotta start somewhere,” was Tadack’s equally blunt response. “Might as well marry someone you want to sleep with in the first place, otherwise the nights’ll be real long.”
Cossack tightened his grip on the empty silver goblet in his hands and fought the urge to strangle that family loyalty prevented him from acting upon. “Don’t both she and I have to agree to this wedding for it to happen?”
Tadack leaned back in his chair, and looked calmly at his son. “Lady Kuryaki’s all in favor of this marriage. You both stand to gain quite a bit from it, you know. She and your mother had a nice talk about it before the state meeting. Kuryaki said she found you to be, and I quote ‘a real charmer,’” he said, and grinned before adding, “of course, being our boy, how could you not be?” When he finished speaking, the Lord of house Aldar’ach folded his arms and put his feet up on the table, relaxing contentedly.
“You do like her, don’t you?” Cossack’s mother pressed.
Thoroughly enjoying his oldest brother’s predicament, Tadran grinned. “Yeah, Cossack, you can’t go saying that one looks like a robeast or uglier than Witch Haggar like you did the last one.”
“That’s because that last one did look like a robeast, and she had claws and a personality to match,” Cossack retorted to his youngest sibling before addressing his mother’s argument. “And what if I said I didn’t like her after all and only wanted to use her for physical pleasure?”
“I’d say it was a shame, since you’re going to be marrying her soon regardless, and she probably won’t find that attitude very charming. Thus, you’ll be off to a rocky start,” Visycka countered firmly.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with starting things off a little heated,” Tadack added, and reached over to squeeze his wife’s shoulder. “Back when we got married, son, we couldn’t stand each other. Remember that, honey?”
Visycka nodded and smiled pleasantly. “I think it was the sex, well that and plotting revenge against our parents, that brought us close like we are now. And while it was a bit of a rough adjustment,” she said, her fleeting wince momentarily betraying the dramatic optimism in her tone, “see how well that worked out for us? Well over thirty years and still together, and both alive,” she declared proudly.
“Yeah, but you’ve been drunk for the last thirty years too,” Cossack muttered under his breath before trying another argument. “Besides, no matter what I think of Kuryaki herself, she’s still Yurak’s mother. Yurak! Dog-face! The guy who gave me and Yaklitz hell in fleet boot camp from day one.”
Cassri frowned at her brother. “I thought that was Vardash.”
“No, Vardash sucked, but it was Kuryaki’s son that he sucked up to,” Cossack corrected her. “I think he had a crush on him.”
“Well, he was kinda cute,” Cassri said with a shrug.
“Vardash?” Visycka turned to her daughter with a curious look. “You know he’s not married...”
“Yeah, ‘cause he’s as gay as they come!” Cassri exclaimed, making a face that indicated sheer horror at the very thought of being foisted into such a union. “Besides, I meant Commander Yurak. Well, before he died anyway.”
Visycka waved her hand in reassurance at her youngest daughter. “Relax, dear, it was just a thought.”
“Yeah, right, I’ve heard that one too and look where I am,” Cossack sneered with a heavy dose of bitterness evident in his tone. The conversation was briefly cut off when two servants came in and put a tray of desserts out on the table for the family, but resumed after they exited the room once more. Cossack helped himself to a chocolaty pastry, which he dipped in his refilled wine glass before taking a ferocious bite, to console his sour mood before proceeding with a new tactic. “Mom, the incredible awkwardness of me marrying the mother of a former superior officer aside, doesn’t it bother you to see your firstborn son marry a woman older than you?”
Picking up a spoon, Visycka stirred some cream into her spiked after-dinner coffee. “Actually, dear, Kuryaki is a few years younger than I, even though her son was older than you. Sevakor married her right when she came of age. Unlike you, he liked the young virginal types.” She sipped at her drink, and looked over at her son imploringly. “Cossack, dear, cheer up. This is a wonderful opportunity for you, and for our entire family. Don’t you know what a tie to Tonorm’oith’s interplanetary contracts could do for our marketing? Not to mention when you marry, you’ll be a high seat of that house alongside her!”
“Yeah, you don’t even have to wait until we croak to reap the benefits,” Tadack pointed out with a grin on his moustached blue face that Cossack found downright evil in its smugness.
Visycka nodded along with him. “And think of the prestige.”
“Uh-huh,” Cossack nodded with them in tandem, unconvinced. “Think of the prestige for my two parents, marrying off one kid to be a high seat of another noble house and passing on a title to another after they’re gone. Because how many high seats can claim that they have two blood offspring that’ll be high seats without either having their kids bumping each other off after they’re gone or by breaking the three generation rule and marrying them to each other? Never mind that they’re selling their firstborn off to the highest bidder!” he finished with a melodramatic shout.
“Sell you off? Boy, the way you’ve carried on it’s damn near impossible to give you away,” Tadack shouted back. “So consider yourself lucky you got yourself a hot one, take the offer, and run with it.”
“Don’t forget,” Visycka pointed out, “you’ll also have voting power as a high seat, the chance to influence state affairs outside the sphere of the military. Surely you can see the benefit in that?”
“Just what I’ve always wanted; the chance to attend long meetings where you have to wear fruity clothes and sit around listening to boring people chat politics,” Cossack groused, his tone getting whiny in its desperation.
At that Tadack laughed. “Right son, and next you’re going to try and tell us that as fleet commander, you don’t have to sit through boring meetings already on the military front? I’ve met with the high admirals on occasion. I know how long-winded they can be.”
Cossack frowned at his father. “Yeah, but at those meetings at least I’m paid to be bored and I can wear my uniform, not a suit or one of those gods-forsaken frilly collars. Which,” he glanced severely at his mother, “I am most certainly not wearing at any wedding I may have in the future.”
“Oh, so you do agree to the marriage then,” Visycka said, brightening into a beaming smile. “Wonderful!”
“No I don’t!” Cossack bellowed, getting to his feet and slamming his hands down on the table in complete and utter frustration. “I’m not getting married!”
“Of course you are.” His mother’s tone was completely dismissive, as if she had not even noticed her son’s tantrum. “I’m sure the two of you will be quite happy together. You really should go and visit her soon, so you can get to know one another better.”
Both of Cossack’s siblings immediately dissolved into unashamed hilarity at the simultaneously irate and dumbstruck look on their oldest brother’s face. When he turned to glare at them, Tadran could not help but laugh harder and hummed the wedding march again, that time louder and more obnoxiously.
Furious, Cossack whirled around and took two large strides to his little brother’s seat, and hoisted him out of the plush dining room chair he sat in by his neck. “Laugh it up, flower boy,” Cossack sneered viciously, his yellow eyes glaring directly into those of his little brother’s. “You’ll be in for this in a few years. Oh, and I assure you, if I am forced to marry Kuryaki, you’ll be wearing the laciest, girliest, frilliest collar I can find, since I don’t have a sister young enough to be a flower girl, and she sure as hell doesn’t.” He paused for a moment and then added, “Or maybe I’ll just make you wear a dress.”
Tadran quickly lost his sense of humor for the situation once in his older brother’s death grip, and flailed helplessly. “I don’t wanna wear a dress or a collar!”
“I don’t wanna get married, but it seems we all have to do things we don’t want to in this family, so you might as well get used to it early,” Cossack countered, still holding his brother effortlessly high in the air while he squirmed ineffectively in his grasp.
Visycka let out a heavy sigh. “Cossack, put your brother down.”
Cossack looked from his mother to Tadran. “You’re a little pain in the ass, and none of us ever liked you.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Cossack’s mother’s voice was stern. “Let him go.”
“Of course.” Eyes gleaming with vindictive mischief, Cossack immediately started for the door, intent on letting him go all right—right off the second story balcony.
“Lower him slowly to the floor and gently release him, Cossack. Do not make me ask you again.” That time Visycka’s tone was very harsh and no-nonsense, and it was one that everyone in Cossack’s family, including the “Terrible” commander himself, knew not to challenge.
“Fine, Mom,” he grumbled irritably, but did as he was told. Instead of proceeding, Cossack turned and dropped Tadran down in his chair—not quite as gently as his mother demanded, but not roughly enough to get a reprimand—and the boy slouched sullenly in the seat while Cassri poorly stifled a giggle next to him. Narrowing his eyes, Cossack addressed her next. “Keep laughing, you aren’t that far off either. Don’t think for a minute that Mom hasn’t made a mental note that while Vardash is a no-go, you found Yurak’s dog face attractive. She’s probably planning to set you up with his cousin or something right now.”
Visycka set her empty cup down on the table. “Oh don’t be silly, Cossack. If my memory serves correctly, most of his cousins are already married.”
“Besides, son, this isn’t about your sister’s wedding, it’s about yours,” Tadack told Cossack, who continued to feel sorry for himself and slumped over in defeat against the table, helmet connecting forcefully enough that the resounding clang rattled the crystal and silverware. “Like I told you before, we all have to get married sometime.”
“What if I was gay?” Cossack whined from his prone position on the table.
Cassri blinked in surprise. “You mean you are?”
“Hah! You owe me five bucks after all,” Tadran said triumphantly to his older sister, brightening considerably.
At that Cossack looked up and over at his siblings in utter disbelief. “You had a bet going on my sexual orientation?”
Cassri twirled her empty goblet in her fingers. “Well… we were all trying to figure out the real reason why you didn’t want to get married.”
“All?” Cossack repeated incredulously. “Who else was in on it?”
“All of us. Well not Mom and Dad, but me and Tadran, and Stryck, Sulestri and Zalik were in on it too,” Cossack’s sister explained, referring to the other two siblings of the family, older than herself and Tadran but younger than Cossack who were not present, and to his brother-in-law. “I bet that you were straight and were just chicken shit when it came to marriage, but Tadran was sure you were gay. Stryck did too, but since Tadran already had that covered, he laid his money on that you were bi and just afraid to commit.”
“And Sulestri and Zalik?”
Cassri made a face. “Well, uh… they kinda thought you were, um, secretly involved with someone in Castle Doom who would get really jealous and that you were afraid to make mad.”
The look of disbelieving shock changed to one of irritation. “Who?”
“Witch Haggar,” his sister mumbled with a giggle. When utter horror and outrage flashed across Cossack’s features at the mere notion, Cassri held up her hands in protest. “Hey! I didn’t think it! If it makes you feel better, she owes us money since it’s not true.”
“And I just thought you were gay!” Tadran pointed out, and preemptively leapt out of his chair to duck behind his sister’s. “Are you?” he added, peeking his head from around the back.
Tadack shook his head at the exchange between his offspring before returning his attention to Cossack. “Well, son, if you were gay, it wouldn’t change anything. You’d still have to get married and have an heir or two. I’d just advise you to find yourself a nice pool boy to keep you entertained in the meantime.”
“Well I’m not gay anyway, but it was worth a try,” Cossack muttered with a defeated sigh.
Visycka smiled at her eldest son. “I know, dear, and I’m glad. It’ll make your marriage so much smoother if you don’t have to sleep around to stay happy.”
The burden of defeat continued to sink heavily upon him. “So basically, no matter what I say or do, you’re going to insist that I marry her, huh?”
Tadack nodded. “Pretty much, yes.”
Cossack realized that he was fighting a losing battle with the formidable enemy that was his unified parental forces, so he decided to opt for a strategic retreat and regroup. There was more than one front upon which he could fight that war, and his alternate plan had worked in the past when his parents were that gung-ho about a marriage arrangement. “Fine,” he said finally, and rose to a standing position. “Since I’m supposed to marry her in a couple weeks, I guess I ought to go and have a talk with my fiancée.”
Visycka smiled and walked over to join her son, and gave him an affectionate hug. “That’s a wonderful idea, Cossack. Give our future daughter in law our warmest regards.” She glanced at the wine rack in the corner of the room, and withdrew one of the finer bottles. “And bring this with you as a gift. Might as well woo her with all the charm such a prominent marriage deserves.”
Obligingly Cossack hugged his mother, a cruel and scheming mother in his opinion but one he still cared for nonetheless, back. She smiled back at her son proudly and straightened his helmet. “My terrible terror is finally getting married,” she sniffled happily. “Be sure to visit us again soon. And call! You never call your mother often enough.”
“Mom, I’m the fleet commander of planet Doom; I’m a busy guy.”
“Not too busy to call your mother more often.”
“Okay, okay,” Cossack agreed, and patted his mother gently on the back as she hugged him again.
Tadack waved from the corner. “Have fun, son, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he added with a suggestive grin.
“See you later, Cossack,” Cassri called out, also waving to him. He waved back to his family and then, with the wine in hand, started out the door.
Tadran grinned smugly at his oldest brother’s departing form. “See ya at the wedding.”
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