Happy Ever After

Chapter Three
By Cheezey

The six days passed quickly for everyone involved in the wedding. While Kuryaki and Cossack’s family were busy planning the big event, Cossack was called in on duty several times, and that kept him distracted enough to keep him from dreading the event. It seemed odd that all of a sudden Zarkon had him being sent out to this planet and that, usually on business tended to by high admirals as opposed to the fleet commander, and if he’d had the foresight to think about it, he might have suspected the truth: that Lady Visycka had requested a favor of the king, sweetened by complementary cases of the family’s finest vintages for the castle, that Cossack be kept busy enough to minimize any chance for him to sit around and think, lest he change his mind and try to back out of the wedding. Zarkon had no problem granting Visycka’s favor, although when she asked, Merla assured her that it was unlikely that even if idle her son would spend much time thinking.

Over those days no new news involving Prince Lotor came in, which was the only military situation important enough to potentially interrupt the fleet commander’s wedding to the high seat of another house. Both Haggar and Cossack found it disconcerting that Zarkon still had not taken action and made no announcement as to his intentions for Lotor, but it was out of both of their hands and there was little either could say or do about it. Cossack was otherwise occupied with assignments and his upcoming wedding, and Haggar was distracted with dreams.  They were dreams that she did not tell anyone about, but they irritated her immensely.

The dreams she had were not dramatic or significant, at least in that they did not foretell impeding catastrophe or give her inspiration of any sort. They were, however, draining given that they detracted from her rest because they were more than simple dreams. The strange experiences were visits from the grave—not from any ancient kings or sorcerers or anyone that might have been of use or interest to her—but from the deceased Commander Yurak. In life, Yurak had not been one of Haggar’s favorite individuals. Much like Cossack, she had found Yurak to be arrogant and condescending, and she had not mourned his loss when he was a robeast casualty in a battle against Voltron. Therefore, seeing his astral form when she closed her eyes had been anything but a pleasant surprise.

The first time it happened she dismissed it as a nightmare or a dinner that did not agree with her.  Yurak approached her in the dream in a state of frustration, demanding that she listen to him and put a stop to something because he was being ignored.  She had woken up disgusted that her time asleep had been wasted in such a way, but did not give it much thought until it happened again. The next night, Yurak was clearer about what was bothering him. He sought her dreaming self out faster, and once he found her, he complained at length to her about Cossack in his family’s house.  He demanded that she put a stop to the union of his mother and “that toad-pond born fool,” because he would not stand for him “defiling” his house and his mother, as he had phrased it.

Haggar’s first and very sympathetic reaction was to laugh at him, but after Yurak did not leave and came back again the next night, each time complaining longer and louder about the matter, she began to grow frustrated. Prior to going to sleep on the fourth night, she focused her mind to control her dreams, and when he showed up, she told Yurak to go and stop the wedding himself if it meant that much to him.  His spirit then admitted that he had tried to speak to his mother, but she could not hear him.  He also said that he had gone home to try and drive Cossack out, but he had ignored him. It was then that Haggar realized that Yurak was not fully aware that he was dead. Unfortunately, it was not until she was out of the hazy realm of dreams and back in reality that she pieced that together.

In the hopes of putting an end to the nightly visitations, on the fifth night of Cossack’s engagement to Kuryaki, Haggar waited for Yurak to appear, and when he did, she did her best to explain things to him. Very succinctly she told her him that the situation was not his concern, and that it rested with those in the living world where he did not belong. Then she added that he should really get an afterlife and move on to the astral world, and stay out of her dreams. To her chagrin, Yurak did not listen, and instead he argued and insisted that she take care of the matter, almost as if he simply would not hear that he was dead or accept it. Haggar then came to the conclusion that while his body might have died, his stubbornness was as immortal as the spirit, and there was no getting through to him.

Hence when she woke up on the sixth morning, the day of Cossack’s wedding to Kuryaki, Haggar was not in the best of moods. To anyone that inquired as to why, rather than explain the embarrassing situation, she just said that she had been having disturbing dreams and not sleeping well. Most did not ask for elaboration, for anything the old witch found disturbing was assumed to be something that no one else wanted to know or hear about unless they were really stupid or morbidly curious. Therefore, when Cossack stopped in before the ceremony to see her, she was forced to use an excuse more on his level—a hangover.

“A hangover, huh? That sucks.”  He was already clad in his dress uniform, although he had not removed his helmet yet, and paced anxiously.

Irritated, Haggar smoothed out the robe she had donned for her pet buffoon’s wedding, a garment brown like her usual garb but of a higher quality and somewhat fancier than the one she normally wore, as it had some gold woven into the edges. “What do you want? You’re supposed to be getting married soon. Isn’t your family standing guard on you to ensure that you don’t run away?” she asked with heavy sarcasm.

Cossack grinned back at her. “I had a robot bring a chocolate appetizer tray by to distract my sisters, and then while they were gone, another one called my brother’s communicator to distract him so I could make a quick break for it.”

She sighed when she realized that her facetious remark had turned out to be reality, and she was not sure which was more pathetic, that Cossack’s siblings were under orders to keep their oldest brother in place until the wedding started, or that he had actually escaped them with such a scheme. “You’d better not be here to beg me to stop your wedding or to try and involve me in some hair-brained scheme because of last minute jitters.”

“Of course not,” he said, his tone indicating that he found it insulting that she would imply it. “I had to sneak out because my sisters and brother didn’t believe the real reason I was coming here.”

“Which is?”

Shifting somewhat sheepishly where he stood, Cossack pulled off his helmet. His sandy hair, normally unruly when the helmet was removed, was damp and flat, and it looked unusually neat. “I want you to cast a spell on my hair to keep it in place.”

At that, Haggar burst out laughing. “You want me to what?”

“You heard me.”  A whiny edge crept into his voice before it became pleading. “My mother’s insisting that I can’t wear my helmet, and I don’t want to look like a robeast is growing out of my head. I’m not a vain guy, but I am a fleet commander! I have an image to protect!”

“All the magic in the world isn’t going to make you look attractive, Cossack, helmet or not.  Besides, didn’t you ever hear of hairspray?”

Cossack narrowed his eyes. “Unattractive or not, at least unlike some of us, I’m not so ugly that no one can argue it. As for the hairspray, I figured with all your potions, you’ve got to have something if your magic is strong enough to pass you off in an illusion as a good looking woman.”

With a frown, she raised her staff and pointed it at his head. “I have some magic that will still movement for four hours give or take. It might make your head a bit heavy and it does run the risk of numbing your brain, but that probably won’t affect you much, so why not?” She focused on the staff, and a light blue beam emanated from it and surrounded his head with a glow that lasted for a moment.

He heard a strange hum in his ears as the magic worked, and he waited until Haggar lowered her staff before he reached up and patted his hair. A goofy smile broke out across his face when it took significant effort to budge his hair from where it was positioned. “Thanks, Haggar!  You know, sometime you should nail Merla’s braid with that stuff and make it stick out or up like a handle.”

“Don’t tempt me.”  Just as she finished talking, she heard frenzied knock at her door, and then two individuals that looked to her like members of Cossack’s family came in. One was a man that bore some resemblance to Cossack, except that he was noticeably taller and lankier, and looked a few years younger. The other was a shorter and somewhat stocky gray-haired Doomite woman with facial features similar to his.

“There you are,” the man said, obviously relieved. “Mom’s in a panic! She thinks you got cold feet and ran off.”

“But I thought we might find you here, knowing how much time you spend in this place,” the woman said with a wry smile.

Upon seeing his siblings Stryck and Sulestri, Cossack made a face and then scowled at Sulestri for her remark. He still remembered the wager she and her husband Zalik had made about him and Haggar with the rest of his siblings, and he had to resist the urge to grab Haggar’s staff and beat her over the head with it. However, he supposed with a wedding in a little while, he had better things to do. “Maybe you thought that because that’s where I told you I wanted to go,” Cossack said to them.

Stryck just shrugged, and tugged at the side of his collar, which was on the tight side. “Come on, you have to admit it seemed farfetched.”

“Really,” Sulestri said. “Like we’re supposed to believe that you wanted to leave to have a magic spell cast on your hair? I told you that you could use some of my gel if it bugged you that badly.”

“First of all,” Cossack addressed his sister, holding up his hand, “You did not inherit Mom’s hair. That hair looks fine on you ladies, and girly boys like Stryck,” he said, pointing to his brother’s poufy mane that while well-brushed, tumbled and curled in all directions around his face and collar.  “But on a fleet commander who’s supposed to look all dressed up in fancy-schmancy crap on his wedding day and who’s not allowed to wear his shiny clean helmet against his direct wishes, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“There’s nothing pretty about you,” Stryck remarked, much to the observing Haggar’s amusement and vindication. “I got the looks in the family.”

Ignoring his brother, while Sulestri made a remark under her breath challenging Stryck’s self-appointed title as the good looking child of Aldar’ach, Cossack pressed on with his original point. “Secondly, sis, real Doom men do not use,” he made a face and said in a mock prissy tone, “hair gel.”

Sulestri rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Take a peek in Prince Lotor’s bathroom sometime, and I bet you’ll find every hair care product in the system, and some imports to boot.”

Eyeing Cossack’s firm hairdo with a touch of envy, Stryck turned to Haggar. “So did you really zap his hair?”

She nodded to him. “Yes, and fortunately it’s clear that what he has of a brain was unharmed.”

Stryck flashed her a charming smile. “Would you mind nailing me, too?”

“Don’t make Cossack jealous,” Sulestri said, elbowing Stryck in the side, while Cossack shot glares at both Haggar and his siblings and roughly grabbed Stryck’s arm.

“No. The condemned man gets a last wish, and mine is that I be the only one of us that looks decent. You can go sit next to Tadran and sulk.” He looked over his brother’s formal wear, including the frilly manila collar around his neck. “By the way,” he sneered in a mocking effeminate voice, “I love the collar.” Stryck glowered back at him and grumbled as Cossack hauled him through the door with Sulestri behind them.  Haggar followed, wondering once again what the Ancient Ones were thinking when they complicated her life with so many fools.

* * *

A short while later, the big moment had finally come. Cossack paced in the hall of the grand temple on Castle Doom’s grounds, knowing that soon he had to go up to the main doors of the chamber and walk in escorting Kuryaki to the altar where the cleric, a disciple of Cesteo since Kuryaki had the higher station in the marriage, would officiate the ceremony. As was customary with first circle nobility marriages, especially any dealing with high seats, members of the ruling family were also present to witness and validate it as legal and binding.

Filling that role were King Zarkon and Queen Merla, and aside from the royals, much of the on-planet nobility also attended, including individuals Cossack otherwise could not stand. Some of his extended family from off planet were present, but far fewer of Kuryaki’s off-planet relations made it, including her daughter from Azuit, her son-in-law, and her grandchildren. She did add, though, that she was sure her son would be there in spirit for her. Cossack had the taste to leave it unsaid that he hoped otherwise, since the ugly artwork she had of Yurak all over her manor was spirit enough without actually seeing his ghost show up.

Before it was time to go, Cossack’s longtime fleet buddy Yaklitz walked in and thumped him on the back. “You’re in for it now. No turning back, no getting away.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”  Cossack glanced at the door. “You know, if I wasn’t sure my parents already had the alarms disabled, I’d be tempted to pull them and make a break for it.”

Yaklitz gave him a surprised look. “You think they thought that far ahead?”

“Yeah. Tried it once during an engagement party. If Mom ratted me out about Quackers, I’m sure she covered that, too.”

“Well then, drink this.  It’ll steady you no problem.”  Yaklitz handed him a flask.

Cossack took a swig and then winced as the liquid, some kind of strong alcohol, burned his throat on the way down. “You want me to get married hammered?”

“Nope,” Yaklitz replied with a shake of his head. “You’re more obedient that way.  Sorry.  Your Mom insisted.”

He shook his head and took another swig, and then handed the flask back to him. “You suck.  You sold me out to my mother just so you could see me married and suffering like you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I sold you out because your mother threatened to tell my wife about what happened at your bachelor party last night that your dumbass brother filled her in on if I didn’t.” He slipped the flask back into his pocket. “Nothing personal, man.”

“You’re lucky Quackers and I like you, Yaklitz, or else I’d kick your ass.  Now I’ll just have to kick Stryck’s.”

“In that case, stick a boot up his ass for me,” Yaklitz said, and headed for the door. “See you on the married side, Cossack!”  He took his seat amongst the guests.

A quick glance at the timepiece told Cossack that the time had come for him to head out, so made his way into the hallway only to be stopped by his mother. Visycka was ecstatic, amazed that he had finally made it to the altar, but also frazzled. She looked his appearance over from head to toe and plucked the helmet off his head.

“I was going to take it off,” he said, and took it back out of her hands. He did not put it back on, however.

“Humor your mother.”  She surveyed his attire again and frowned when her eyes fell on a bulge in his pocket. “What are you carrying?”

After a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking, he casually slipped it out. Visycka saw a flash of yellow and smiled when she realized it was not some weapon or item that would cause a ceremony-killing disruption, but just Admiral Quackers. She watched Cossack set the duck in his helmet under a strap so it would not fall out. “For luck,” he said, although in his opinion, Quackers needed no justification.

Visycka smiled and patted his arm. “Of course.” She handed him a large jewelry box. “Here’s the adornment. It’s an arm guard that goes on the right arm.”

“Okay.”  He plunked that into the helmet as well, before tucking it under his arm.

“Now give your mother a hug before you go off and get married, my Terrible Terror,” she sniffled, and put her arms around him.

Cossack made a face as a couple of guests arriving at the last minute passed by to go sit down, and glanced over at her emotional display and loud enunciation of his nickname. He gave her the obliging hug back and then let go. “Go on and have a wine or six and enjoy the show.  Trust me, getting married is something you’re only going to talk Cossack the Terrible into doing once.”

Once his mother left, Cossack turned and headed for the inevitable. Upon reaching the top of the staircase his yellow eyes widened, and he smiled when he saw his betrothed waiting for him. Kuryaki looked lovely, as all brides aspired to on such an important occasion, wearing an emerald and lilac colored sleeveless gown that reached high on her neck and fit her like a glove, hugging her figure and flowing gracefully onto the floor. Her hair had been styled a bit more fancy than he had seen her in prior, and she wore a touch more makeup. Aside from the adornment from her first marriage, she wore no jewelry.  It was custom for a Doom marriage to allow the partner the choice of where to place the adornment.  Kuryaki also wore fine satin gloves dyed the exact shade of purple to match the hues in her dress, and in her hands she held a large box with the adornment she was to place on him.

Ever a bastion of tact and grace, Cossack ogled her, thinking both that she looked great and that he was looking forward to demonstrating it after the pomp of the ceremony once they were alone in the honeymoon suite. He let out an appreciative wolf-whistle. “You look hot,” he said as he joined her side.

Kuryaki smiled at him as he approached, taking his colorful assessment of her appearance in the spirit of a compliment. “I’m glad you made it, and proved your youngest brother wrong.”  She extended her arm for him to take so that they could walk to the altar in step. “He told me you were going to, and I quote, ‘run away from the wedding like a scared little slave girl from the Pit of Skulls.’”

“Hmph.  Well, Tadran talks out of his ass a lot. That’s one thing you’ll learn about my family, that they don’t know when to shut up,” Cossack said as he took her arm.

“That explains quite a bit about you,” she replied, and when he flashed her a somewhat indignant look, she smiled back at him. “By the way, you look smashing. I think the fleet uniform suits you much better than those collars.”

Vindicated hearing that, Cossack smiled. “Thanks.  That makes two of us.”

“Two of us that look good, or two of us that think the collars look ridiculous on some of those that wear them?”

“Both.”  The doors were then opened for the two of them to come in and walk through the temple up to the altar.

When they stepped through as a pair, Cossack could feel the eyes of everyone in the chamber on them. Although he never had a problem with being the center of attention, it was difficult for him to ignore the various reactions he got from guests as he and Kuryaki walked by them arm in arm. The first he overheard was his elderly great aunt making a remark to a cousin about him needing to go from one mother to another to keep him in line, and he wished he could get away with stopping long enough to stuff one of the ornamental plants in the temple right into the old shrew’s ugly hat.  Instead, he just grumbled under his breath while Kuryaki either did not hear it or pretended not to.

About halfway there, he saw that one of his most loathed former superiors, the once-admiral-but-now-lowly-lieutenant Vardash, was amongst the guests seated on the side of the bride’s family.  He whispered angrily to Kuryaki, “Who the hell invited Vardash to my wedding? And why did he come? He hates my guts as much as I hate his!”

“Your mother, I’m sure,” Kuryaki replied, low enough that only he could hear her. “Etiquette demands that all the high seats and their children be invited to weddings of other high seats. Vardash is a son of Lorkim’orx. As for why he came, most likely because it would’ve looked rude for him not to.  Or maybe it was just the free food and drinks.”

They were just about at the altar then, and Cossack caught sight of his siblings and parents sitting toward the front. Tadran sneered at him, but when Cossack saw the pale blue frilly collar around his neck, he felt that the insult had already been repaid. The collar was uglier than any he recalled being forced to wear, and enjoyed that with smug satisfaction. As they came to a stop at the altar, he took a last glance at his parents. His mother was beaming and squeezing his father’s arm in her exuberance, while Tadack gave him a not-so-subtle thumbs-up and a nod.

The cleric officiating the ceremony started it, and Cossack stood up straight and attentive with his eyes on Kuryaki. This is it.  Although he was anxious, he plastered a smile on his face. He was Cossack the Terrible. If Voltron had not killed him, and royal temper tantrums had not done him in, surely marriage would not be anything he could not handle, right?

“Esteemed nobility of planet Doom, loyal subjects to his most honored highness King Zarkon and his Queen Merla,” the priest spoke to the assemblage, “You are all gathered here today to witness the marriage of Lady Kuryaki, high seat of house Tonorm’oith and third daughter of Morrex and Iskeli, relations to Ermov’diast, to Fleet Commander Cossack, first son of Aldar’ach and high seats Tadack and Visycka. With this union sanctioned by our honored gods and liege, the high seating of house Tonorm’oith shall forth be shared by the two to be joined here today, until the end of their days upon the mortal plane.”

The priest shifted his gaze to the couple before him, his eyes falling upon Cossack with mild distaste.  The mystic abilities granted to him through worship had heightened his senses enough to tell that Cossack had been touched by favor of gods or spirits outside of Doom’s pantheon.  It was not a vibration that was in conflict, so he made no acknowledgment of it, but he could not help but disapprove. “First son of Aldar’ach, do you accept and embrace the woman beside you as your bride, in accordance with all of the laws of the kingdom, empire, and the wisdom of our gods; swear your life and loyalty to her and the house in the name of the gods, and before all these witnesses as testimony to your intent?”

Wow, that’s a lot of weasel wording, Cossack thought before giving the appropriate response. Although he had the brief impulse to give a wise-assed remark or run like the temple was on fire, instead all he did was nod and say, “Yeah.”

The priest was caught off guard by the groom’s informality, but it did not put him off enough to say anything.  He turned to Kuryaki. “Lady Kuryaki, high seat of Tonorm’oith, do you accept and embrace this man beside you as your husband, and grant him the title and privilege of sharing your house’s station, in accordance with all laws of the kingdom, empire, and the glorious wisdom of our deities; swearing your loyalty and life to this man in their name, and before all these witnesses?”

In the split second of pause between when the priest finished speaking and before Kuryaki could answer, Cossack wondered in a flash if she would say no, or remember the obnoxious things that he had said or done and leave him standing there. Fortunately, it turned out to be an unnecessary concern or unrealistic fantasy, whichever one chose to call it, and Kuryaki’s response was as proper as her title. “I do.”

“Commander Cossack, you may now present your adornment to your bride.”

“Oh, yeah.  This thing.”  Cossack pulled the box out of his helmet. Quackers squeaked subtly as it brushed against the plastic, but if the priest ignored it if he heard it. Kuryaki, however, did hear it, and struggled to maintain her composure. Cossack tucked his helmet back under his arm and flipped open the box, revealing a platinum arm guard. The piece was a lovely open bracelet designed to look like a grape vine that wound around the arm twice before ending with an intricately detailed grape leaf on one end, and on the other, a bushel of grapes. Cossack figured that his mother picked that out as a symbol of their house and its contribution to it, but the design was tasteful enough that it seemed to suit Kuryaki well  enough.  It also reminded him of booze, so that worked fine for him as atrinket to represent their union. Kuryaki seemed pleased, and smiled when she saw the item, and Cossack wondered if his sister had said something to scare her about it beforehand. If so, he was going to have to get even with her, he decided. Perhaps he’d tell their mother that she really did have a crush on Vardash. No, not Vardash.  That was too cruel even for Cossack the Terrible. Maybe Yaklitz’s nerdy brother-in-law. Yeah. That would work.

The priest’s eyes narrowed at Cossack’s nonchalance, and snapped him out of his thoughts. “Yes, that.”  He held his hand over it and murmured a prayer in the gods’ tongue, an archaic language to them, to bless the adornment. “Adorn your bride as yours, as she will shortly claim you.”

Cossack obediently and took the arm guard with his free hand and slid it up her right arm, already extended to make it easy. He carefully pushed it into place and smiled at her. “Last chance to run,” he murmured under his breath as he secured it.

“Can’t run in these heels,” she whispered back with a smile, and straightened as they resumed their positions.

“Hmm, thought you looked a little taller.”  Cossack watched as she then withdrew her box at the order of the cleric. He peered over as she opened it for the blessing, and saw that it was a sturdy titanium bracer to be worn from the wrist to a third of the way up to his elbow. The design was simple yet tasteful, lightweight, durable, and to his relief not at all effeminate or anything that would get in the way of his regular military gear. When the priest finished saying his invocation and ordered Kuryaki to adorn and claim him, wording that chafed at him even though he knew that was what the whole marriage deal involved, he held out his wrist for her to secure the arm guard.

Her nimble fingers slipped and clicked it into place in no time at all, and before he knew what was happening, she entwined her fingers with his and turned to face the cleric. He followed suit, remembering vaguely from the weddings he had attended—the ones he stayed awake and paid attention to the ceremony of, anyway—that it was what he was supposed to do at that point.

“By the grace of our illustrious gods and the authority granted to me by our most honored rulers who preside as witness over this union,” the cleric said with a nod to Zarkon and Merla, “I declare you to be joined as husband and wife and the recognized high seats of noble house Tonorm’oith.” He bowed before them. “You may now seal your arrangement with a kiss of affection, if you so desire.”

Cossack grinned at Kuryaki. “Sure.” With surprising energy, he let go of her hand so that he could draw his free arm around her and hold her close. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her with enough ardor to let her know he was looking forward to the honeymoon, as in his opinion, the kiss was the best part of the whole ceremony. He was pleased to feel the same measure of affection in her response, and it encouraged him to make the rather risqué move of slipping his tongue into her mouth. Unfortunately, he found his efforts thwarted by a firmly closed jaw and a wall of delicate teeth that would not budge to allow him passage. Regretfully the kiss then ended, and they pulled apart to face the guests and bow to them in thanks as was customary once a marriage ceremony was completed.

The cleric waved for the guests to begin the customary greeting of the couple.  It was a formality that, with a wedding of that size and prominence, would take some time.  He left them to do that while he retired to his chambers in the temple. As the crowd gathered around them, Cossack whispered to Kuryaki, “So, was my breath that bad?”

“Not your breath, dear, only your timing.  Fortunately, in the short time we’ve known one another, I had an idea of what to expect.”

Cossack stole a glance at her. “You liked it the other night.”

“We were alone the other night, not being witnessed by the nobility, our families, the royalty, and a cleric for the gods’ sake.”

“I’m sure at least a few of them wouldn’t have been offended.”

Kuryaki chortled. “Dear as I know your father is to you, you know that he hardly sets the standard on what constitutes appropriate public behavior.”

“Yeah.  I’ve been told I’m a lot like him,” Cossack said with a grin.

The first guests to approach them were, as tradition demanded, King Zarkon and Queen Merla. Zarkon was the first to address the pair. “Congratulations, Cossack! I must say I’m surprised you found someone that would put up with you. Unlike your dear wife here, as my fleet commander I can just kick you out when you get on my nerves. She can only kick you as far as the couch.”  He turned to Kuryaki. “Best of luck to you. I’m sure with Cossack you’ll have your hands full.”

“Not to mention your mouth,” Merla added, and when Kuryaki’s eyes went wide at the impropriety such a statement implied, she said, “Cossack excels at putting his feet in his, after all.”

Cossack smiled back at Merla with equal insincerity. “At least no one can say they don’t know where they stand with me.”

“True enough.  Anyway, best wishes.” With that, Merla and Zarkon left.

Cossack glanced at the long line of guests and made a face as he realized how long it would take to get through speaking with all of them. “We’re gonna be here all day.”

“Just smile and nod and it’ll go faster,” Kuryaki advised as Haggar stepped up next.

“I’d rather get onto the honeymoon,” Cossack grumbled just before Haggar came into earshot.

“And here you are, Cossack. I’m so proud of you for not running away and embarrassing your family and all of Doom this time.” She smiled at Kuryaki. “I can’t say I’m envious of your position having to put up with him, but you’ll be good for him. You’ve already improved his table manners remarkably. Maybe next we can get him to learn to knock before entering.” She patted Cossack on the head. “Hmm, it’s still holding! Not bad!”

“Your spell?”

Haggar’s smirk spread to bare her fangs. “Nope, your brains! No helmet, but they’re still in there! See, you can take it off once in a while!”

“Yeah, and unlike some of us, I even look good with the less I wear,” he retorted, and then grinned at Kuryaki. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

From where he sat in Haggar’s arms, Coba let out a “mrow” that sounded dubious at best. Haggar scratched her pet behind the ears. “Enjoy the rest of your wedding, Cossack. I think I’m going to go work on a new robeast. A witch of my age can only socialize for so long, you know.” She nodded to Kuryaki. “Good luck with him. Oh,” she added with a gleam in her eye that only Cossack caught, knowing her as well as he did, “my otherworldly powers show me that your son is here to witness this, and he’s absolutely beyond words to express how he feels.” Kuryaki smiled fondly, touched that she was generous enough to pass on a sentimental message from beyond, while Cossack just made a face. “Have a nice honeymoon, you two!” she finished, and departed in the same direction as the royalty.

“Zarkon’s old witch isn’t half as bad as the nobility makes her out to be at times,” Kuryaki mused to Cossack as she walked off. “She’s rather personable in her quirky way.”

“Yeah, she’s a personality all right.” Cossack noticed that his family was next in line and approaching fast. “And speaking of which…”

Tadack and Visycka stepped up to them with his sisters, brothers, and brother-in-law trailing behind. Cossack’s mother threw her arms around him and squeezed him in a big bear hug while Tadack smiled fondly at the pair of them.

“It’s finally done!  My baby terror is all grown up and married!” Visycka exclaimed happily.

His siblings collectively chortled, and Stryck remarked much to the amusement of the rest of them, “Well, you got one out of two right.”

Cossack shot him a dirty look. “Yup, Mom, now that you’ve got two of us married off, you only have three to go. I’m sure you can find a nice robeast of a woman for Stryck, or maybe you could just give Vardash his number. Like you told Cassri, he is single.”

Stryck’s amused look faded into a glare at his older brother, while Tadack put an arm around Kuryaki’s shoulders. “Welcome to the family. You know that you and any of your kin are welcome at our place anytime.” He gave her an appreciative look, although not overt enough to be rude, and then he turned from his new daughter-in-law to his son. “You treat her well, and give us a grandkid sometime soon. Not that with a lovely lady like her that should be any problem.”

Kuryaki shifted where she stood, and paling a little at the brashness of Tadack’s words, although she was not entirely surprised by them. Cossack meanwhile groaned inside that they were already getting the kid lecture, and he half-hoped that his mother would intervene. Unfortunately, he had no such luck. Instead all Visycka did was grab Tadack’s hand and squeeze it. “Let’s not rush them, dear, even if it would fill my mother’s heart with joy to see my oldest son give me a little grand-terror to spoil rotten, especially since now I have two married children and no grandchildren yet…”

“Mother, didn’t Cossack just get married? Maybe you can let him get through the honeymoon first,” Sulestri’s irritated voice cut in from behind, and Cossack realized that she had probably heard the kid lecture as often as he had heard the marriage one. He might have been sympathetic, except that she was the one who bet that he was sleeping with Haggar, so instead he just felt a childish sense of satisfaction that she was getting nagged. He decided that he would do his best to ensure that it continued, perhaps by reminding his mother of her every time she mentioned kids to him. Yes, that was more than fair.

“Ah, we got everything under control. See you at the reception and at the next high seat meeting, ok?” Cossack said, hoping his parents would get the hint and move on.

“Thank you for the well wishes,” Kuryaki added politely.

They took the hint, and Tadack and Visycka said their goodbyes and left with Sulestri following behind. On their way out, Cossack was pleased to overhear his mother strongly hint to her about how she and Zalik should think about having little nobles to further the family. Zalik lagged behind with a frown on his face, first directed at Sulestri and Visycka, and then at Cossack. “I’ll get you for this. Believe me, you’ve only just begun to hear it.”

“Just like I’ve only begun to pay you back, my dear brother-in-law.”

Somewhat taken aback, Zalik asked, “What’d I ever do to you?”

Cossack held up two fingers. “Two words: Witch Haggar.”

“But that was her idea!” he protested. “I already had to pay off Cassri, isn’t that enough?”

“By the way, you still owe me ten credits in interest,” Cassri piped up from behind.

“Shut up.”  Zalik glared at her, but it was not very imposing, because Cassri was about an inch taller than Zalik without benefit of her heels, and his skinny build was far from threatening, so she only made a rude face back at him.

Meanwhile, a cruel grin spread across Cossack’s face as he responded. “Sorry,” he said, it quite obvious he was anything but. “They call me ‘Cossack the Terrible’ for a reason.”

“Kuryaki, you look like a reasonable lady.  Can you help me out?”

She shook her head. “You must know how Cossack gets once he sets his mind on something.”

Zalik sighed again, lowered his head, and shuffled off after the others. “I’m doomed. Doomed. And it’s all my wife’s fault.”

“Spoken like a man who’s been married a long time,” Yaklitz quipped from his spot in the line as Zalik passed by, only to get elbowed in the side by his own wife.

Cossack opened his mouth to call out a response to his friend, but as he drew breath to do so, he felt a sharp nudge in his own side courtesy of Kuryaki.  He returned his attention to the long line of guests in front of them, and it was then that he saw approaching were several key members of the Lorkim’orx clan, including Vardash.  First they exchanged pleasantries with the high seats and the ones Cossack had no active grudge against, but eventually it was Vardash’s turn to offer his well wishes.

Not surprisingly, the chubby former admiral completely ignored Cossack at first, and focused on Kuryaki. “Congratulations on your marriage, Lady Kuryaki. I wish you all the happiness on Doom.”

Aware only that Cossack did not like Vardash and vice versa without knowing all the specifics, Kuryaki accepted the statement graciously. Since Vardash had always been pleasant to her when they had met, usually when fleet business had brought him to her home or she had crossed paths with him when he was with Yurak, she was indifferent to the grudge and considered whatever issues he had with Cossack between them. Cossack, meanwhile, glared at Vardash on principle, and reinforced it when he turned to him.

The glare was mutual, and Vardash’s face strained into an obviously forced semblance of politeness as he addressed him through his complete and utter loathing. “Cossack…”

“That’s Lord Cossack now, actually,” he pointed out with a superior and proud tone as he straightened. He did not really care much about the high seat title, but since he knew throwing status up in Vardash’s face would piss him off, he did so shamelessly.

It worked like a charm. The edges of Vardash’s lips twitched to change his forced sneering smile into an active scowl. “Lord Cossack,” he amended, obviously irritated, “Treat her well. She deserves nothing but the best.” He nodded to Kuryaki again, and left before making nice with Cossack would make him retch.

Cossack frowned, for he hated to agree with Vardash on anything, but he could not exactly make a snappy retort to what he had said without it coming out in a way that would offend Kuryaki.  Now that they were already hitched, that would have been very counterproductive. “Maybe the admiral had the right idea after all,” he grumbled under his breath as the next set of guests approached.

Kuryaki raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t let Quackette hear you say that.”

“Well, she didn’t have to stand on this line and schmooze,” Cossack pointed out. “If she did, she might agree.”

Kuryaki subtly shifted her handbag so that she clutched it, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A very subtle squeak, soft enough so that only Cossack could hear, came from it as the guests next in line to greet them ascended the stairs. Cossack gave her a surprised look. “You have Quackette?”

“As surely as you have a rubber waterfowl in your helmet.”

“Wow.” He could not believe that she had brought a toy along just to humor him. “I knew you got her for the house, but I thought—”

Kuryaki gave him a knowing smile. “Given what your mother told me about your allergy to marriage, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to bring along a little insurance against any last-minute jitters. I couldn’t have you calling it off on the grounds that Quackers was stood up at the altar, after all.”

He could not help but chuckle at the thought. “Oh, that would’ve been a good one! I almost wish I’d thought of it.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah.”  He smiled back at her with a renewed sense of contentment. “Almost.”

“So what do you think now?”

“I think,” he whispered back, “That all things considered, I’d much rather leave our plastic counterparts here to meet the guests, and head on out to enjoy our honeymoon.”

With a giggle so light that Cossack would have thought he just imagined it if he had not seen Kuryaki let it out, she replied in an equally soft whisper, “You know what? I agree.”

The End

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