Happy
Ever After
Chapter Two
By Cheezey
A short while after he left his parents’ estate, Cossack arrived at the doorstep of Lady Kuryaki’s manor. “I can’t believe I’m here again,” he muttered to himself as he rang the buzzer.
A moment later the door opened and once again Cossack found himself knees to face with one of Kuryaki’s odd servants that she called Berbils. “Hi, I’m—”
“Fleet Commander Cossack the Terr-erble,” it answered in its mechanical tone.
“Uh, yeah,” Cossack replied, not sure whether his title had just been mocked, or if it was just the creature’s odd accent mispronouncing it. He decided quickly it had to be the latter, though, since he was the feared and mighty Cossack the Terrible, and a mere servant creature such as that would not dare to mock someone like him.
The Berbil beckoned for him to enter. “Come inside and I will tell the lady you are here to see her.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, Cossack watched the Berbil curiously as he followed it inside to the sitting room. As he passed by Yurak’s portrait, he could have sworn that its glare was fixed more strongly on him before, and twice as harsh. Boy does he look grouchy! You’d think that light sword was stuck up his ass instead of in his hands, Cossack thought, and glared back at the painting on principle before he returned his attention to the Berbil. “You knew I was coming? Did my family call?”
“We remember you from your previous visit,” it informed him as it gestured for him to take a seat. As he strode past it, Cossack noticed that the drink cart was set up as if it had never been demolished so recently, and the rug showed no sign of any permanent stains from the Tyrusian whiskey. “Lady Kuryaki said you might be visiting again.”
“Yeah,” Cossack said as he settled into a chair, deliberately staying far away from the drink cart. “I bet she did.”
“Ah, Cossack! I heard the bell and wondered if that might be you stopping by on a whim,” Cossack heard Lady Kuryaki’s voice come from the opposite end of the room. He looked over and saw the noblewoman standing in an archway that led to another spacious room beyond. She smiled as she approached, and he stood to greet her while the Berbil servant quietly left, leaving the two of them alone. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“We saw each other this morning,” Cossack reminded her, recalling their brief encounter outside Zarkon’s throne room.
“I know, but we had no time to chat, did we?” Kuryaki answered, and then noticed the bottle in her caller’s hands. “And you brought something?”
Having already forgotten that he was holding it, Cossack blinked a moment, and then held out the wine his mother had given him to give to her. “Oh, yeah, this is for you. I came from my parents’ house and—”
Kuryaki smiled. “You brought me some of their best, how thoughtful,” she said, and accepted the gift with one hand while smoothing the other flirtatiously over his with the other. “Perhaps you aren’t as rough around the edges as I thought.”
Shifting where he stood, Cossack alternately enjoyed the flirtatious touch and reminded himself that he had to convince her not to marry him. With that in mind he stared at her straight on. “Uh, we gotta talk.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “Come with me, Commander, and we’ll continue this outside and perhaps have some of this later,” she said, and set the wine bottle down on a table. “It’s a lovely evening, and I didn’t get a chance to show you the gardens yesterday.”
“All right.” Cossack followed Kuryaki through the archway, past another room, and out onto a spacious and lavishly landscaped patio. Gorgeous gardens of ornamental and exotic plants surrounded the stone walkways, laid out in the skull crest specific to the noble house from which she hailed. At the far end of the patio was a fenced-in garden in which Cossack saw a lit-up statue of Commander Yurak. That likeness of him, unlike the portrait in the hall, showed Yurak in a proud military salute, but its features were no less stern. In fact, Cossack could have sworn that even from that far distance, the statue glared at him as well. Gods, didn’t that guy ever smile?
Kuryaki followed Cossack’s gaze to the statue. “My son’s tribute,” she told him with a sad smile. “After I had the Berbils recover what—what was left of him—on planet Arus, I had him buried there. He had the customary military service at Castle Doom, of course, but his home here was where he always came to relax… on the rare occasions he did, anyway.”
Cossack nodded. “I remember. I was there. I think the whole fleet was,” he said as he recalled the funeral. At the time Cossack had recently made the rank of force captain. He remembered that Yurak had willingly chosen to undergo the transformation into a robeast as a way to save face and keep his prestigious position in the military, which Zarkon would have otherwise stripped him of for failing to Voltron had he not done so. Still, Zarkon had apparently held enough respect for Yurak after his death to allow his funeral to reflect that he was in his command position at his death, even though he was the robeast that was deployed, so it had been a big deal for the entire fleet to honor his memory.
Cossack glanced at Kuryaki with a slightly uncomfortable feeling. He could have sworn that the statue of Yurak glared harder at him with each passing minute. “Is it just me, or did they carve that statue so the eyes follow you?”
Obviously not affected by the statue the same way as he, the elder noble smiled at him. “I like to think that he watches over the place.”
“Right,” Cossack said with an uneasy smile, and he decided that whether he liked Kuryaki or not, he definitely did not like the idea of that statue or the painting in the hall always staring at him like that if he did wind up having to marry Kuryaki and live there. All the more reason to convince her to call this whole thing off, he asserted to himself.
Leading them to a bench beside one of the gardens, Kuryaki sat down and gestured for Cossack to do the same. When he did, she turned toward him and took his hand, meeting his eyes with a purposeful look. “I have an idea of what you’re planning to say, Cossack. Your mother told me that you might be,” she paused as she searched for the right word, “difficult in regards to this arrangement.”
“Look, it’s nothing personal, Lady Kuryaki—”
She held up her hand. “Please, there’s no need to be so formal, especially in light of our situation and yesterday’s little incident. Unless you’d like me to call you ‘Commander’ instead of ‘Cossack?’”
“No, it’s fine, Kuryaki. You’re not one of my men.”
“If I’m marrying you I should hope not,” she quipped wryly.
Despite himself, Cossack smiled. “Yeah, well, about that…”
“What about it?” she asked, fixing her gaze on him. “Do you have cold feet?”
“You could say that,” Cossack replied. “I can’t marry you, and you wouldn’t really want to marry me anyway.”
“Why not? Do you have a lover that objects?” she asked, and casually laid a hand upon his thigh.
“No,” Cossack told her, grimacing as he remembered his sister Sulestri’s bet with his other siblings. “Cossack the Terrible just isn’t the type to settle down. Like I said before, it’s nothing personal. I’m sure you’re a great lady and lots of fun,” he assured her, and even flashed her a subtle leer as he finished. “In fact, if you’re up for carrying on a torrid and passionate affair with Doom’s fleet commander, I’d be all for it and you’d just have to name when and where. But as for marriage, well, I’m just not the type for that whole deal.”
With a chortle at Cossack’s blunt honesty, Kuryaki raised an eyebrow and trailed her fingers along his leg in a mildly suggestive manner. “I see. And why is that? Don’t tell me that Doom’s terrible fleet commander is afraid of a little ceremony?”
“Of course I’m not afraid!” he protested. “It’s just that, well for one, I’m a very busy man.” Cossack sat up straighter and tried not to let her flirtatious fingers distract him too much. He did decide, however, that if he could swing it, he would definitely pursue the affair idea if he could get the marriage deal to fall through on nice enough terms. “I mean, Kuryaki, I’m the fleet commander. You know all the responsibility with that job, and that I’d have to stay on in my quarters at Castle Doom whenever I was on duty. I’d hardly be home. You’d be lonely.”
“Actually, Cossack, I’m a busy woman myself. Aside from keeping up with what’s expected of the high seat of a house, I also frequently travel on business. Such is the demand of heavy involvement in interplanetary contracts,” she explained smoothly. “Besides, both my husband and my son were military men. I’m quite used to the lifestyle.”
“Yeah, about that?” he argued, deciding to push the depressing angle on her as a scare-off tactic. He figured odds were that a woman who already lost her first husband and son would not want to go through it all again. “What if you no sooner got used to having Cossack the Terrible around as your beloved husband and he just, bang, up and died in the line of duty and left you all alone?”
Kuryaki smiled wistfully and nodded in the general direction of Yurak’s statue. “Oh I’ve been there and done that, my dear. I’d hate to see anything happen to you, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Besides,” she brightened a little, “there are advantages to being closely tied to Doom’s fleet commander. By Cesteo, I don’t think a telemarketer called my estate more than once to harass me about switching my satellite service plan while Yurak was alive.”
“That’s another thing,” Cossack pointed out at what he assumed was a reference to her patron deity. Doom’s primary religion centered around a general worship of a pantheon of nine gods, but at adulthood each chose one god or goddess to honor above the others as their primary. Cesteo, the god of marriage, trade, commerce, and other legal contracts was a logical choice for someone of her station and background to follow, but had little to do with his affairs and hinted to him that her religious preferences could make a great case for incompatibility, especially if she did not identify with his. A follower of Elichi, the god of sun, stars, and other natural forces, Cossack also had the touch of Haggar’s dark magic spirits on his soul courtesy of a vitality talisman she had given him. He had no spiritual conflict with that, but some clerics of various gods did, not that he worried too much about what they had to say as they had not been there to save his hide when he was on the edge of death with quark-burn fever. However, it was quite possible that Kuryaki could hate the very idea, especially if she held the same grudges against Haggar and witchcraft that her son had. “We probably don’t follow the same god. I bet we have nothing in common.”
“Probably not,” Kuryaki agreed. “Athgar, right?” she guessed, naming the war god, the deity of choice for most of Doom’s soldiers. “My first husband and son were both devout Athgar followers. We got along fabulously.”
Cossack shook his head. “Nah, I follow Elichi, and I get bonuses from those ancient guys Haggar follows, ‘cause she says they like me and she gave me a talisman in their name once.”
“I see. Following Elichi probably does help you avoid those nasty asteroid showers and black holes out in space as a fleet man. I’ll have to stop by his temple and leave a sacrifice of thanks for giving me my new husband the next time I’m in Darhin-Kal.”
Frowning as that was not the route he intended the conversation to take, he pulled out another excuse. “Don’t give your thanks yet! I mean, I know you see a man like Cossack the Terrible and think, wow, what a great catch he is, but you don’t live with me. If you don’t believe me, ask my brothers and sisters. They’ll tell you what a jerk I am. You’ll probably want to reconsider and call it off now, before it’s too late.”
“Oh Cossack, all siblings think their brothers and sisters are jerks. I have two brothers and a sister I’d like to smack upside the head each time I see them, and don’t even get me started on my brother-in-law Tonchelon. Even my own children never even got along when they lived together, but my daughter managed to marry quite happily.”
“Yurak didn’t.”
“Only because he was just as difficult as you,” Kuryaki pointed out. “On that I sympathize with your mother’s pain. He refused to settle down, always said his career came first. There was even a rumor going around that he was gay.”
Cossack thought back to his early days in fleet boot camp in Yurak’s unit. “You mean he was? I mean, we all knew that Vardash was trying to get up Yurak’s ass in more ways than one, but we weren’t positive the feeling was mutual.”
“I did say ‘rumor,’ Cossack,” Kuryaki replied with an arched eyebrow. “As for Vardash, most of the nobility knows he’s fruitier than an orchard, but even if they were comrades, I don’t think my son had that sort of relationship with him.” She shook her head to dismiss the subject. “Besides, what does that have to do with why you can’t marry me?”
“Well, what if I was gay? You wouldn’t want to marry me then, right?” Cossack prepared to come out of the closet with an acting performance of full dramatic fanfare if that could get him off the marriage hook.
Upon hearing that one, Kuryaki laughed heartily. “Do all gay men hit on women they visit on royal business?”
With a frown Cossack tapped his finger against the side of the bench. Kuryaki was proving to be tougher to crack than he expected, and he realized he might have to take the route of directly offending her, which regretfully meant that a steamy affair with her later would probably be out of the question. Still, he supposed he could sacrifice the prospect of some sex for the greater goal of avoiding the hassle and responsibility of a marriage. “I have terrible personal habits,” he confessed, stepping into high gear for the offending offensive assault. “I’d drive you nuts in a week.”
“But I thought you said you’d hardly be around, so what does that matter?”
“I mean when I’m here,” Cossack corrected quickly. “I’ll be so annoying you won’t be able to stand me. I’m used to living alone, so I leave my stuff everywhere.” He waved his hands wildly for emphasis.
She shrugged. “That’s why we have servants, to clean up after us. Besides, you’ve already made a mess in my house once without benefit of marriage, or have you already forgotten yesterday?”
“I also drink a lot, and hang out in bars constantly,” he added in the hopes that visions of hauling a drunken oaf that came home several hours too late into bed would be enough to put her off.
He had no such luck. “Everyone in your family drinks a lot, Cossack. That’s hardly news. You’re from the winery family, after all.” Her tone indicated that she considered such a thing quite trivial. “And by all means, enjoy your time in the bars. We all need our recreational activities.”
Mildly frustrated but still unwilling to give up, Cossack pressed on into full on jackass mode. “I’d cheat on you and make you jealous.”
Her eyebrow shot up at that remark, and as a result Cossack’s hopes also went up that he had struck a nerve, although her quiet reply puzzled him. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Why is that? I mean, if you can’t help but be attracted to the,” he preened, “handsome and mighty Cossack the Terrible, then you must know that throngs of women throw themselves at my feet.”
“Well, be that as it may,” she purred sweetly, stroking Cossack’s ego as suggestively as her hand did his muscular torso, “you may want to know that my son taught me how to use a light blade nearly as well as he could, and bought me a military grade one for my fiftieth birthday.” Kuryaki stopped her caress with a forceful squeeze on the side of his belly, fingers pointing subtly but distinctly toward a more tender part of his anatomy.
She’s fighting dirty, Cossack thought, alternately frustrated and excited by the cat and mouse game. Well, she won’t outdo Cossack the Terrible! He began racking his brain for all sorts of things that would upset a prissy noble that would want to maintain a classy image. While Kuryaki had not given the impression of being terribly uptight, Cossack was still sure that if he tried, he could find something to offend her and scare her off. Determined, he began to rattle off a list of annoying habits. “I leave the toilet seat up, I lounge around in my underwear when I’m off-duty, I hog the remote when I watch anything on the projection unit, and my table manners are atrocious.”
Kuryaki proceeded to shoot each offensive habit down point by point in a calm and concise manner. “There are sensors on the toilet seats to automatically lower them, and you can parade around naked for all I care so long as guests aren’t around. All of my projection units are state of the art and voice-activated, and as for your table manners, well, you can be trained.”
Both exasperated and surprised that she countered his listing of offensive behaviors with such ease, Cossack stared back at her indignantly. “Trained?”
“I’ve raised two children, Cossack, and I know what works. Rewards and punishments.” She leaned closer to him. “If you’re a good boy and behave for me in company, I reward you nicely when we’re alone.” She caressed his cheek with suggestive flirtation. “If you’re bad—”
“You spank me?” He had blurted the thought out, wide-eyed and clearly thinking straight from the gutter, before he even realized that he had vocalized it.
She straightened staunchly. “Not quite. If you’re bad and you frustrate me,” she looked at him dead on, “I’ll be forced to frustrate you.”
Cossack frowned when he realized what she meant. “That’s not fair!”
She let out a light laugh. “Oh, but all’s fair in love and war, dear, didn’t they teach you that in boot camp?”
Cossack’s expression hardened with renewed determination. If she wanted to play dirty, two could play at hitting below the belt. “Well in that case,” he said, pulling out a line that in the past had never failed to offend previous arranged noble-born brides, “it’s only fair of me to warn you—I have a raging libido, and I’m hung like a stallion.” He finished the statement with a crude leer that shamelessly and overtly ogled her curves.
When Kuryaki’s eyes went wide and her lips parted in an open-mouthed expression of shock at his vulgarity, Cossack was almost ready to declare victory and happily celebrate the securing of his bachelorhood once more. Unfortunately, the remark that came from her was the exact opposite of what he expected.
“Well then,” she said after a long moment, “it sounds like you and I will have lots of fun when we saddle up.”
Since he had never before made it past that line without getting slapped hard across the face, a drink dumped on his head, or thrown out, Cossack just stared at Kuryaki blankly, not sure of how to react. “I—uh—um,” he mumbled dumbly. “You know, you’re the first woman to still speak to me after using that line? At least the first to not use a lot of profanity.”
Kuryaki relaxed comfortably against the seat back of the bench. “Cossack, your brashness doesn’t bother me. I knew your reputation well enough when your mother proposed the idea to me, and I’ve known your father for years so I have an inkling of what I’m in for.” She paused. “Besides, didn’t you use that same line on Jaeli of house Aletai’omath some time ago? I remember her mother laying into Tadack at one of the state meetings blaming him for your lack of manners shortly after that engagement fell through.”
“Oh.” Time to get a new line, Cossack thought somewhat ruefully. He felt it was a shame, as he considered it one of his better ones.
“If it’s managed to get you into such trouble, I hope at least that it’s true,” Kuryaki teased.
Cossack straightened into what he considered an imposing and sexy pose and grinned at her, both for the pleasure of showing off for a woman that clearly thought he was hot, and because he had one last trick up his sleeve that he had used once before with success. Additionally, because the recipient of that tactic had been an off-world noble, Cossack had reasonably high hopes that the ploy had not gotten back to Kuryaki. “Of course it’s true,” he boasted, “and like I said, if you’re still up for an affair, you can find out all about it,” he assured her. “But there’s still one more reason I can’t marry you.”
“Only one?”
“A big one,” Cossack told her with a dramatically serious expression. “You see, I made this promise to a friend… he’s a very good friend of mine I’ve known for years, and someone I respect very highly. We made a pact back in the early days of the fleet to stay single, and agreed that we would never get married unless both of us jumped into it. And I’m afraid that he’s a confirmed bachelor.”
A curious frown crossed Kuryaki’s features as Cossack explained his situation. “You’re honor bound by your word to a dear friend?” Cossack nodded back to her an assured yes laced with a smile that appeared regretful but was indeed one of celebration as he began to hope that his last ditch effort would work at dissuading her from viewing him as marriageable material. “That’s very touching, Cossack. I had no idea that you were so sentimental.”
“Don’t tell anyone; it’ll take away from the whole ruthless ‘Cossack the Terrible, bloodthirsty conqueror and all around bad-ass’ image.”
“What’s your friend’s name? Is he anyone I know?”
“You can’t talk to him,” Cossack blurted out as he realized that she was attempting to outmaneuver him again.
Kuryaki eyed him curiously. “Oh? Why not?”
The commander shifted slightly in his seat. “He’s a very busy guy. He’s an admiral.”
“Oh, an admiral.” The lightest hint of amusement sparkled in her eyes for a moment, although it was brief enough that Cossack missed it, mostly because he was busy taking her quiet tone as a sign of her surrender. Suddenly she stood and looked down at him. “Well then, I guess there’s nothing more to say. Come with me please, Cossack.”
Assuming that she was about to show him the door, Cossack stood and joined her, ready to lay on the sap about how sorry he was to let her down about the whole engagement thing, but also ready to pour on the charm and offer to make it up to her over a late dinner and perhaps more afterward. She took his arm and led him back into the mansion, but to his surprise they did not head to the front door where he assumed he was being given the boot, but up the stairs. “Where are we going?” he asked. Kuryaki smiled back at him and opened a door to a lavish bathroom. She gestured for him to enter.
“Well, I went before I came, but thanks anyway, at least now I know where it is,” the puzzled fleet commander replied.
With a quiet chortle to herself, Kuryaki went over to one of the artfully decorated mirror cabinets and retrieved something from it. “I’d like you to meet someone, Cossack. I call her ‘Quackette.’” She held out her blue hands to reveal an adorable purple rubber duck with a pink lipstick-tipped yellow beak, wide green feminine eyes, and a pink bow with white polka dots atop its head. “Does Admiral Quackers approve of his companion?”
Dumbfounded, Cossack’s jaw went slack as he eyed the female rubber duck, and as his intended used the name of his secret friend and good-luck-charm bath toy, Admiral Quackers—someone that very few individuals aside from his family, personal slaves, Haggar, and his longtime fleet buddy Yaklitz knew about. When he collected his composure, Cossack stared at Kuryaki dead on, unable to perpetuate an act anymore now that his final trick—one that had scared off the most persistent of arranged brides—had been foiled. “Mom squealed on me about the duck, huh?”
“Like a stuck pig,” Kuryaki admitted.
Cossack sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “Damn. You know, you should get a prize for getting this far. You not only outlasted my offensive, but all of my backup attacks as well. With perseverance like that, you should be in the fleet.”
“Fleet uniforms are far too drab on my figure,” she quipped, and set Quackette down on the counter. Resuming a more serious tone, she leaned closer to Cossack and took his arm to lead him back out into the hall. “So tell me, now that we have all of these games out of the way, why are you so resistant to the idea of a marriage? You must know that this arrangement is highly beneficial to us both. It would be to our advantage to go through with it and make it work.”
“I told you, I don’t think I’m cut out for it,” Cossack said bluntly as they made their way back down the stairs and to a sitting room, where they settled onto a plush couch. “You may be into the whole nobility schmoozing scene, but I don’t like having to dress up in uncomfortable, ugly, frilly clothes and having to stand around for boring speeches in a long ceremony with a bunch of nobles who are just going to bore the piss out of me before and afterward talking about politics and business I have nothing to do with.”
He began to pace as he got into the heat of his rant, not yelling, but not exactly holding back either. “Then once the whole deal is sealed, I’ll have to move half my stuff from Castle Doom here, get used to having to fly in to report for duty instead of sleeping late and walking down the hall unless it’s active duty in which case I gotta be there anyway living out of a suitcase—unless I want to live here out of a suitcase. Plus, you and I’ll both be the high seats of your house, which you might be used to, but to me means more meetings to force myself to stay awake through where I’m expected to dress in fancy clothes and those ugly-ass collars, and then, to top it all off, you know the lectures and nagging still won’t stop once we get hitched.”
He shook his head dramatically to emphasize the point. “Oh no, instead of hearing ‘so, are you married yet?’ it’ll be, ‘so, when are you having kids?’ and I gotta tell you, I don’t want to change any diapers or deal with any brats. There are enough whining babies in my troops, and I don’t want to deal with that at home.” Finally finished, he exhaled heavily and awaited her reaction.
Kuryaki listened quietly throughout his heated explanation and remained silent for a moment after he was finished to be sure he was done before responding, and to take it all in. “Well, that’s a little more workable than a pledge to a bath toy,” she said, and offered Cossack an understanding smile. “But hear me out. First of all, as far as children are concerned, yes, believe me, I know all about the nagging. Don’t think that just because I had a couple that I didn’t hear it. I never got it early on because I married young and wound up pregnant seemingly five minutes after I got married, but I heard plenty from the time Sekavi was three and older. Only having two is almost as bad as having one or less, because then you’re only replacing yourself in the nobility—not expanding it, as Nadlax so graciously pointed out to me once.” She frowned for a moment before continuing. “But then again, he’s nosy and obviously can’t keep his pants on if he has seventeen kids, so let’s consider the source.”
“That guy’s a pain in the ass,” Cossack agreed. “Did you know he tried to pawn three of his daughters off on me at various points?”
“I believe it. In the years since I lost my husband, I’ve probably heard almost as many well-meaning hints about re-marriage as you have for doing it the first time. At various points, Nadlax has graciously offered me two of his sons, and once he even had the audacity to suggest that since I didn’t seem interested in remarrying quickly and only had two children from my first marriage, that the real issue must have been that men weren’t my preference, and to ‘help me out’ offered me his sixth daughter as a concubine if I’d marry his fourth son.” She shook her head in disbelief.
Cossack’s eyes went wide in shock. “No kidding! He did that to you too?” When Kuryaki gave him a quizzical look, Cossack nodded and let out a bitter laugh. “He pulled the same stunt on me in reverse. When I shot him down marrying his third daughter, he asked me why, and when I told him I just wasn’t interested in marrying any woman, he said I could have his eighth son as a bonus if I got hitched to the daughter he wanted to marry off.”
Kuryaki’s laughter mingled with his for a short while at that before they grew serious again. “Anyway, the rabbit house high seat’s opinionated nosiness aside, keep in mind that as far as children go, that we have servants and I have experience with that sort of thing. It goes without saying that we’ll be expected to have at least one or two as a blood tie if at all possible, which I understood going into the arrangement anyhow. But the Berbils will make it easy; they’re excellent caretakers and nannies. Aside from your necessary role as father, which you made abundantly clear earlier would not be a problem given your insatiable urges, beyond conception the amount of time you wished to spend with any child would be up to you,” she assured him before addressing his next point.
Cossack relaxed somewhat. “Well… all right, that sounds reasonable enough. I don’t really hate kids unless I have to deal with bratty ones or wipe their butts,” he conceded cautiously, and then raised a finger. “But I am serious about not wearing that frilly formal stuff. I hate it. My parents had to tranquilize me to get me into that suit and collar getup once I was big enough to fight back.”
Kuryaki surveyed his attire. “You’re comfortable in your fleet uniform, right?”
Instinctively straightening his cape as she eyed him up and down, Cossack nodded. “Yeah.”
“All right then,” she said with a smile. “Have your military dress uniform cleaned and shined and wear that to the wedding. I’m sure you’ll look quite handsome, and being that you’re Doom’s fleet commander, who could argue it’s anything but appropriate?”
Cossack’s eyebrows shot up, mildly suspicious. “No frilly clown collar?”
“Not if you don’t want to wear one,” she assured him.
“What about at those meetings?”
Kuryaki shrugged. “If you can appear before King Zarkon in military uniform, nobility meetings shouldn’t be any different. I’m used to the politics of being a high seat, so I can take care of most of the business if you’d rather. You would only have to show up at the meetings requiring both our presences or in the rare event I can’t attend. As for the parties, well, they serve good cocktails at all of them for distraction, and we can find you something to wear I’m sure if your uniform is inappropriate, or at worst, it can be made worth your while to tolerate it a short while,” she offered and leaned toward him. “As you can see, Cossack, I’m quite willing to make this pleasant for you.”
He smiled flirtatiously at her, the ego boost of knowing that she was willing to go out of her way to accommodate him beginning to override his aversion to the idea. “So you want me that bad, huh?”
“I want the connections your family’s business can give mine, and vice versa, and I want my status in this house firmly re-established.” She looked away for a moment. “I don’t know how much you know about the Tonorm’oith clan or their background, or mine, but I presume you know that I’m the high seat of this family because I married Sevakor back when he was the first son and heir to the high seating.” When Cossack only nodded, she continued. “He and I were dignified the high seats by King Zarkon when his mother, the sole surviving high seat, passed on a little over a year after we were married. Since he was the first son, there was no challenge to that, as much as some of his family would have loved to try. As you know, Sevakor died twelve years ago, leaving me, the non-blood relation, to retain the title. The core family doesn’t like that, but being that Sevakor and I had two children, dignified as first son and first daughter and both past adulthood, they had no challenge to it. If they demanded me removed, it would’ve gone to Yurak anyway.” A bitter note crept into her voice. “But as you know, Yurak is now gone too. That leaves one blood heir to the Tonorm’oith clan from Sevakor’s line, and she lives on Azuit. You can imagine how some of the more ambitious of the nobility view that position, both in the family and out.”
Cossack nodded. “Nobility vultures, uglier than Queen Merla’s bird.”
“In all honesty, Cossack, as the head of the royal fleet and an attractive young man at that, I have no real complaints about you. Believe it or not, I find it more flattering that you’d rather carry on an affair with me and forget the idea of marriage altogether than I do other men your age who heap flattery on me hoping to get me to marry them so they can sink their greedy little hands into a title and the clout and status that comes with being a high seat.”
“I already have a title, well, two, technically—my official one and my unofficial one. I don’t really need yours,” Cossack said with a measure of pride. To his surprise, he found himself actively considering going through with the marriage deal. So far Kuryaki had ironed out the most disagreeable aspects of the arrangement to his satisfaction, and with the stress of that considerably lightened, he supposed that if he had to get railroaded into an arranged marriage eventually, he could do worse than to marry someone like her. Kuryaki’s age did not bother him. She was attractive and even at her age had a number of years ahead of her before she would even be considered old, for Doomites had relatively long life spans. The awkwardness of her being Yurak’s mother was something Cossack supposed he could get used to and even in time come to view as point of amusement, if for no other reason than he knew Yurak would have absolutely hated the mere thought. Additionally, Kuryaki seemed pleasant to get along with, and unlike a number of the women his family had tried to set him up with in the past, he had no objection to the idea of spending time with her out of or in the bedroom. On the contrary, it occurred to him that the proverbial free milk in exchange for being forced to buy the cow would be a nice bonus indeed—especially if it was rich and creamy and served hot and steamy.
Kuryaki’s gaze was intense upon Cossack as he finished speaking and she gave him a moment to sort his thoughts before she prodded him to say what was on his mind. “Cossack?”
“Kuryaki,” he began hesitatingly, “if you’re really serious about this…”
“I’m very serious.”
“You’d still want to marry me just for those reasons, and despite everything I said and did earlier?” Cossack stared back at her as if he did not quite believe it, almost as if he thought there was some catch.
Kuryaki nodded to confirm that his impression was correct.
“And all that stuff you agreed to do before, you meant all that? You’re not going to turn around say you never said that or anything like that? ‘Cause if so, you’re going to have one very pissed off fleet commander on your hands, and you don’t want to make Cossack the Terrible mad,” he warned, although his tone was more cautious than threatening.
She took his hand in hers and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll give it to you in writing if you want, Cossack. Like I said, I want this to be amenable to the both of us.”
His eyes heavy upon her as he weighed the pros and cons of the decision, Cossack stroked the silken fur of her azure hand with his thumb absently. “And it doesn’t bother you to get hitched to a guy younger than your son, and one he didn’t like at that?”
Pleased that Cossack was coming around, Kuryaki settled in close to him on the couch, and allowed him to drape the arm he had slung across the back of the couch around her shoulders. “My Yurak was very critical of all of his soldiers. My boy was a perfectionist. That was one of the reasons he did so well in the fleet. I’m sure his issues with you were nothing more than a personality conflict. I adored my son more than anything, but I can just imagine how he would have reacted to someone like you,” she said with a smirk. “And you must have done something right, whether he would agree or not, or you wouldn’t have been promoted to his job. As for your age,” she murmured, her voice taking on a husky and flirtatious tone, “all that means to me is less time for you to have been badly trained, and that many more years of your prime stamina. Why would I complain about that?”
Flattered, Cossack squeezed Kuryaki’s shoulder and forced himself to keep his mind out of the gutter long enough to settle one last issue. “What about the duck?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s not just a scam to scare brides off, you know. Quackers is lucky to me. Are you okay with a grown man who confers with a plastic avian admiral?”
“I admit that’s a peculiar quirk, but I suppose we all have our odd habits,” Kuryaki replied. “The admiral is as welcome here as you are, and I’m sure Quackette will be delighted to share a cabinet with him. The Berbils will treat both with the utmost of care.” She gave him an indulging smile. “Besides, if Quackers got you this far in life, there must be something to be said for him.”
“In that case,” Cossack decided with a satisfied smile, “I’m almost ready to agree to this whole deal and do it willingly.”
“Almost?” Kuryaki repeated, eyeing him curiously and wondering what else he could possibly have to say. “You are a tough one to please, Commander. What else will it take?”
Cossack’s smile broadened into an appreciative leer. “Not to be crude with a classy lady like you, Kuryaki, but I wouldn’t take a new ship into battle without taking a test flight to see how it handles…”
“My,” Kuryaki remarked dryly, doing her best to take that brazen come-on in stride, “subtlety is not your forte, is it?” Cossack opened his mouth to answer, but she placed a finger to his lips to hush him. “That’s all right, Cossack, like I told you earlier and as I told your parents, I find your bluntness refreshing, if not a little over the top.” She nuzzled against him flirtatiously. “And while I wouldn’t have put it as bluntly, I agree completely. So,” she purred, and moved her finger from his lips to his chest in a suggestive trace of its contours, “why don’t you and I take that wine you brought over, head to the master suite and,” she brushed her lips against his, “get to know one another a little better?”
Beyond the capacity to form a coherent sentence being on the receiving end of such an overt sexual advance, Cossack demonstrated his agreeability to the suggestion by answering her with a lusty and excited kiss.
* * *
Much later, Cossack wore a delighted and smug grin that spread from ear to ear as he lounged lazily on the king-size mattress beside the flushed, spent, and much to his ego’s satisfaction, quite pleased—Kuryaki. His betrothed looked as if she could simply melt into the sheets, a sight which the commander always enjoyed after such a conquest. “Well that settles at least one rumor I heard about you,” she murmured distractedly as she rolled over to face Cossack. “It couldn’t have been an ex-girlfriend that gave you that unofficial title of yours. You are a far, far cry from terrible.”
He frowned indignantly. “Who said that?”
“I forget. I heard it at one of the parties last year. It was probably the same fool that started the rumor about my son being gay.”
“Nah, not Yakl—I mean, whoever it was probably wasn’t the same guy.”
Kuryaki raised an eyebrow with playful suspicion, but let it go regardless as she was still content to bask in the afterglow. “Right. Either way,” she said with a smirk, “if it was up to me, I’d call you Cossack the Magnificent.”
“Hmmm,” Cossack replied as his grin broadened further and his ego soaked up the sweet praise of his prowess like a robeast did lazon, “Well, you can still call me that. Especially since I’m going to be your husband and you’re giving me a title anyway.”
“Oh,” she said coyly, “so I met the Magnificent One’s standards, did I? You’re willing to, how did you so eloquently put it, take me into battle now?”
Fangs bared in the same smug grin, Cossack slid his hand along the inviting curve of her hip and replied, “With guns blazing and thrusters at max.” He exhaled contentedly and settled into the covers. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I crashed here tonight? I’m on duty early tomorrow, but I just don’t feel like flying back over to Castle Doom.”
Agreeably Kuryaki drew the cover around both of them. “Certainly. I need to find out if you steal the sheets.”
“Damn,” Cossack muttered, and chuckled to himself.
“What?”
“That was another annoying habit I could have used,” he said with a sigh. “Why do I always think of these things after the fact? Oh well,” he said, and rolled over happily to settle into the covers beside his bride to be.
“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” Kuryaki murmured back to him lazily. “I only wanted to know if I needed to order an extra set.”
* * *
Bright and early the following morning, or as bright as it ever got on Doom anyhow, Cossack chugged down a glass of juice and a fresh-baked muffin brought to him by one of Kuryaki’s Berbils, said a quick goodbye, and headed off for duty at Castle Doom dressed in a freshly cleaned uniform, also courtesy of the Berbils. He decided that he could definitely get used to the efficiency of those little robears, and was in a pretty good if not somewhat rushed mood as he headed down the stairs to the mansion’s main door.
As he passed through the foyer quickly so he would not risk being late, Cossack heard a very low and distinct growl. The critical and angry snarl was one the fleet commander had not heard in years, but he had heard it enough in fleet boot camp that he recognized it instantly, and it made stop dead in his tracks. Yurak? Immediately Cossack whirled around, half expecting to see someone behind him.
Of course, no one was there, but Cossack did find himself on eye level with the giant portrait of Yurak hanging on the wall several feet away. From that angle, Cossack could have sworn that the former commander’s glare looked even more irate than it had when he’d first seen it, that his light sword was painted with a brighter glow, and his cybernetic sighting eye had a reddish tint to it that had not been present the day before.
My head is screwing with me, Cossack decided after a moment, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under the familiar scrutinizing stare of his departed former superior with each passing moment. There’s just more ugly detail up close. The artist was really good at his work, that’s all, and I just subconsciously thought I heard him.
Realizing to his dismay that the mighty Cossack the Terrible had just allowed a painting to get to him, he straightened stubbornly and glared back at it for a moment. “You’re just pissy because I’m going to be your stepfather,” he muttered at it. He then mentally flipped the artwork off and subsequently forgot about it, hurried the rest of the way down the stairs and out past the doors that the Berbils held open for him, and hopped into his space cruiser.
When Cossack reached Castle Doom, making duty on time with two whole minutes to spare, the robot by his office told him that his orders were to report to Haggar. He found her in her lab, which he entered without knocking as usual. The witch stood by a bench that held a large, smoking, and bubbling flask. “What’s going on?” he greeted her.
The shorter hooded figure turned and looked up at him when he approached. “Well, look at what Coba dragged in,” she said with an amused cackle, and surveyed his crisply fresh uniform. “That’s cleaner than I’ve seen it in weeks. Out to impress your new fiancée?”
“Nah, her Berbil-thingies cleaned it last night,” Cossack replied with a shrug.
“Oh, last night,” the witch repeated with a knowing grin. “So this engagement is for real? You haven’t sent her off screaming for the hills yet?”
Cossack frowned, feeling somewhat defensive that someone like Haggar was mocking his personal life. “I’m not the one who hasn’t had a date in a thousand years.”
“Testy, testy,” a sneering Haggar retorted. “I thought you told me once that you’d never get married. What’s the matter, Cossack the Terrible couldn’t say no to his mommy? Or is it he couldn’t say no to Yurak’s mommy?” She cackled again.
“Maybe I like Kuryaki,” Cossack huffed back at the old witch. “That reminds me, just how did you know about Kuryaki yesterday? Did she say something to you? I mean, before she and my mother told King Zarkon I was getting married before letting me know.”
Haggar shook her head. “Relax, Cossack, she didn’t tell anyone but your parents that you crashed her drink cart and then hit on her.”
Cossack breathed a sigh of relief for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Haggar. “Then how do you know?” A wicked grin spread across the witch’s shadowed features, and she gestured to her glowing scrying crystal, causing Cossack to gawk at her indignantly. “You spied on me in your crystal?”
“That thing’s better than every projection unit in the galaxy,” she replied, and let out another amused cackle.
“You need a life, Haggar, or at least to get out of here more often, if you don’t have anything better to do than spy on me.” Cossack folded his arms across his chest sulkily.
If the witch was insulted or even fazed by the commander’s remark, she did not show it. Instead she just shrugged. “I was just wondering what was taking you so long to get back from inviting a few nobles to a meeting, and imagine my surprise to call forth a vision only to see you suavely covering yourself in Tyrusian whiskey and then stripping for the high seat of house Tonorm’oith.” She cackled again. “If only that fool Yurak could see you now, chasing after his mother. He’d roll over in his grave if there was anything in it but robeast scrap metal.”
Cossack straightened huffily. “He’d probably look like he did in that ugly painting Kuryaki had in her hall.”
“Either way, I can’t believe you’re actually serious about this marriage,” Haggar said with a wave as she went back to stirring her potion. “Do you have any idea how old she is?”
“Yeah, at least a few hundred years younger than you,” Cossack snapped back at the witch. “Now stop picking on me, or I won’t invite you to the wedding.”
“Oh, fine,” Haggar said with a labored sigh. “I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to see you stumble down the aisle in one of those silly collars.”
“I’m not wearing one,” Cossack informed her smugly. “That was part of the deal we worked out last night. I’m getting married in my uniform. No clown suit for Cossack the Terrible.”
The witch rolled her luminous yellow eyes at the commander. “Don’t tell me you’re even going to wear that helmet then? Do you ever take that thing off, horn-head?”
He straightened his helmet out of habit and stared back at her. “It’s never wise to leave your head unprotected. You should know; you wear your cloak all the time.”
“Yes, but unlike you I don’t require it to keep what few brains I have securely in my head,” the witch retorted.
“If all you’re going to do is pick on me, Haggar, I’m going to leave,” Cossack informed him sulkily. “Cossack the Terrible doesn’t have to stand here and take this.”
“Yes you do, because we have work to do,” Haggar argued. “But since you’re getting cranky about it all with your pre-wedding jitters, we can move on to that.”
* * *
Once his work with Haggar was finished, Cossack headed over to his family’s estate. He was still in a state of bemusement that he was actually going along with the whole wedding deal, and he knew his mother would undoubtedly be thrilled by that, but he still wanted to make some things to her clear, and find out exactly what he was in for as far as the details went. When he arrived at the plantation he found his mother in one of the spacious offices used for winery business. She had a media reader and a ledger open in front of her, and a goblet to her left. An additional decanter of wine was on a nearby table, presumably left there by the slave that had brought it.
“Cossack!”
Visycka exclaimed, brightening as soon as she saw him come in. “What a nice surprise, to see my Terrible
Terror twice in two days!” She pointed
to a plush couch in the office for him to sit and immediately got up to join
him. “Can I have the slaves bring you anything?” Cossack shook his head a no and she squeezed his
hand affectionately. “So, how did it go
last night? Did you two have a nice
evening together? Get to know one
another better?”
“Yeah, it was fine. She liked your wine.” He smirked a little as he recalled enjoying it with Kuryaki in her bedroom the night before.
“Good! Actually I’m very glad you stopped by. Your father called over to her place this morning, and we tentatively scheduled a date for the big affair, so if you can just confirm with you that the date is good, we’ll send out the invitations, get the wheels in motion, and get the party started.”
Boy, they don’t waste any time, Cossack thought as he gave his mother a response. “When?”
“Six days from now.”
Upon hearing that, Cossack’s eyes went wide in shock. “Six days?” he repeated incredulously. Although he had finally begun to accept the idea of being engaged, being married so soon after that was a bigger step than he anticipated, and he blanched somewhat. “Why the rush?”
With a laugh Visycka replied, “I’m just eager to see my baby boy married after waiting so long.” That was the truth in part, although the part that the female half of Aldar’ach’s high seating left out was that she feared if she dallied in the proceedings, her impossible-to-marry son might change his mind or otherwise alienate his bride. Time was of the essence, for once he was sworn into the deal and the king signed the certificate, there was no way for Cossack to back out. Divorce was a very rare thing amongst the nobility and it was rarely sanctioned without very good reason.
“But isn’t it a little too soon?” Cossack protested. “Won’t everyone think I knocked her up or something?”
Visycka sniffled. “Oh Terror, don’t get my hopes up that high just yet if it’s not true, although if you two really got to know each other last night, maybe you did,” she said slyly, and elbowed him. “And yes, it’s a little rushed as far as scheduling goes, but the invitation deadline is four days, so we’re still golden. We will need to get cracking with getting you a nice suit to wear though. I don’t imagine the one in your old room here still fits with all that beef you put on in the fleet, especially the collar,” she said, and poked at his side pointedly.
Cossack narrowed his eyes sternly. “I told you last night—I’m not wearing a collar.”
“You also said you weren’t getting married,” she replied dismissively as she debated whether or not one of Tadack’s might fit him. “What’s your point?”
“I’m serious, Mom,” Cossack said, and drew himself up so that he loomed over his mother, his tone firm and accepting no argument. “I’m not wearing it. I hate those things. They look uglier than Haggar in the noonday sun of a desert planet and I won’t be seen in one alive or dead.”
Letting out a sigh at her eldest son’s melodramatics, Visycka drank heavily from her goblet and eyed him with a no-nonsense look. “Cossack, you have to look tasteful. You’re marrying the high seat of a house! This isn’t some noble third removed from the main line of a family.”
He refused to budge on that point and shook his head vehemently. “Look Mom, I’ll marry Kuryaki with no problem, and let you finally write me off as paired up and hitched like you’ve wanted for the past ten years and not fight you on it, but I draw the line at looking stupid while I do it!”
“You look stupid when you do everything,” Cassri’s voice quipped from behind them. Both Cossack and Visycka turned toward the door and saw her standing there with a packet in her arms. She strode over to Visycka’s desk and dumped it on top. “So what stupid thing has he done now?”
“Not kicking your ass so hard it even hurts to open your mouth when I saw you last night?” Cossack retorted.
Visycka gave her children a warning look. “Cassri, don’t start with your brother. Cossack, don’t threaten your sister.”
“Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he glared at his sister again, “Kuryaki told me last night that it was okay if I wore my fleet dress uniform to the wedding, so that’s what I’m wearing.”
Looking her brother over from head to toe, Cassri snickered, “Gods, you’re even going to wear that helmet at your wedding?”
Cossack’s yellow eyes narrowed. “Are you hanging around Haggar in your spare time?”
“Not as much as you, if Sulestri thought you and her were getting it on.” Cassri leaned against the edge of the desk and sneered at him.
“I said that’s enough,” Visycka cut in, and cast a sharp glare at her daughter before returning her attention to Cossack. “Well, I suppose if Kuryaki has no problem with your fleet dress uniform, then it’ll do,” she conceded, “but it had better be flawlessly cleaned, and I mean not a spot or wrinkle out of place. And you are not under any circumstances wearing that helmet during the ceremony. It’ll be hard enough for her to put a bracer or arm guard or whatever adornment she picks out for you on in that uniform as it is.”
He nodded, not pleased with having to agree to leave his helmet off, but he supposed he could go that far if it meant no more hassling about the collar. “All right. Deal.”
Noticing a catalog of wedding stuff on her mother’s desk, Cassri picked it up and thumbed through it. “Speaking of which, did you pick out something for her yet, Cossack?”
“No,” he said with a frown. “I just agreed to marry her last night; I haven’t exactly sat around thinking about the details. I was on duty most of this morning.”
“Probably playing Grenade-Hunter on your computer in your office,” his sister snorted.
Straightening indignantly, Cossack informed her importantly, “That happens to be a strategic military planning program.”
Cossack’s sister did not seem to take his assessment of the program nearly as seriously, and sarcastically intoned back a response of, “Whatever.”
Visycka refilled her wine and took the catalog from Cassri, turning to the pages that showcased marriage adornment jewelry for Doom brides. “You should think about what you’d like to give Kuryaki, Cossack. Remember that since she’s a high seat, it’s a piece that’ll be noticed every time the house is represented, and it has to be something that can be slipped on during the ceremony with relative ease. Therefore it should not only be elegant, but also tasteful and meaningful.”
Cassri smirked at her older brother knowingly. “In that case, Mom, you’d better pick it out. He’d probably get something like a thigh guard or a belly ring so he can reach up her dress.”
“I would not,” Cossack protested, annoyed by both the snide look on his sister’s face and at the horrified one that flashed across his mother’s features indicating that she feared he might actually consider it. Walking over to Visycka’s side he glanced at the book and pointed at the first nice piece of jewelry he saw on it—a necklace that had an intricate chain and sizable precious stone pendant attached to it. “See, something like that would be fine.” As he looked at the catalog, he smiled goofily at the thought of the pretty jewel glittering amidst soft cleavage that everyone could admire the appearance of and he could later fondle.
Both Visycka and Cassri sighed audibly at his selection. “I see what you mean, dear,” Cossack’s mother said with a shake of her head.
Genuinely clueless as to what he had said wrong, as he was fairly sure he’d kept that last thought to himself and not spoken it aloud, Cossack looked over at his sibling and mother. “What? What’s wrong with it?”
“Did you forget she’s been married before, dumbass?” Cassri pointed out tactlessly. “That choker she wears is the adornment from her first marriage. You know the rules. Once you’re married, you don’t take it off, even if the husband or wife dies. Your new one just gives you something to wear somewhere else. Replacing it is like broadcasting that they were insignificant to you and really classless and insulting… and she can’t exactly wear two necklaces all the time, especially ones that clash in style. Duh.”
Visycka nodded along with her daughter. “You really should have known that, Cossack. I know you haven’t been married, but by the gods, you weren’t raised by commoners.”
“Yeah, why do you think Ardek of Ermov’diast always wears so much jewelry?” Cassri added. “He’s been married six times!”
Cossack shrugged. “I don’t know; I just thought he was into looking dainty or liked gold or something! I don’t pay attention to what people wear; I’m not a chick! I also don’t know or care who stuck what on who where at those weddings. It’s hard enough to stay awake at those things to begin with.”
Glancing from the catalog to Cossack, Visycka asked, “Well did you at least pay enough attention to tell me what sizes she wears or what metals she likes the look of? I think Kuryaki usually wears something sleeveless; maybe an arm guard would work for her.”
“Sorry Mom, I didn’t have time to measure her arms last night,” Cossack replied sarcastically.
“Yeah, but I bet you could give her bra size,” Cassri taunted, folding her arms and daring him to prove her wrong.
“Other than big enough, no,” he retorted to his sister with a measure of defensiveness. “I didn’t look for tags.” He then turned to Visycka, visibly fed up and agitated with his sister’s needling and his mother’s nagging. “Tell you what, why don’t you just pick something you approve of out there that you think she’ll like, and send me the bill?”
“All right, there’s no need to get testy about it.” Visycka set down the catalog. “Shall I assume you want me to take care of everything else, too?”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “It’s bad enough I gotta get married, the least you can do is let me delegate as much of the bullshit as I can.” He paused. “Although I do have one little request for the big day.”
“What’s that?” Visycka asked.
A twisted and mischievous smirk spread across Cossack’s features. “Make sure Tadran wears a real spiffy collar.”
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