Log: Lan Xichen and William Laurence WHO: Lan Xichen and William Laurence WHAT: A discussion after Laurence's memory-dump WHEN: Tuesday, 24 May, evening WHERE: The recreation room at the Covert WARNINGS: N/A
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Laurence had had a couple glasses of wine before Lan Xichen had arrived, though he was not often in the habit of imbibing by himself, and did not allow himself to become drunk before Lan Xichen arrived.
Receiving nearly two years of memories in a single evening was as unpleasant as everyone had warned it would be, both emotionally and physically. The pain of Riley’s loss was tempered somewhat, being followed by the events in the Incan Empire, and then Portugal, though in all that time he’d scarcely had time to mourn his friend; he supposed there’d be time enough for that on the trip to China.
It wasn’t only the weight of Riley’s senseless death that weighed on him, whatever a burden that might have been. He’d lost friends before, such being the nature of his career. He was aware though, extremely aware, of the promise he’d made Temeraire, and the pain it would undoubtedly cause Lan Xichen. He’d made no official promises to Lan Xichen, not yet, but he was very aware that he’d made implied promises to Lan Xichen, near enough to the real thing to make no significant difference, and to break those promises because of a promise he’d make in what would have been his future, and was now his past, had always been Temeraire’s past…
The headache he’d not quite managed to banish before had strengthened again when he’d thought too hard about the logistics time and space when it came to getting nearly two years of memories overnight, of having people plucked from any point of time without rhyme or reason, and so he’d did his best to not dwell too long on it.
Laurence had opted for another glass of wine once Lan Xichen arrived, though he’d brewed him a pot of green tea, set out in the rec room of covert, where Laurence was sitting, slumped, on one of the couches.
“Tom and I weren’t as close as we once were,” Laurence was saying, having already laid out the circumstance of the fire which had claimed his life, started in the cookfires and spread by a drunken crew until it had reached the gunpowder. “We’d had our differences of opinions, but things between us had been mended… mending, perhaps,” though Laurence wasn’t sure if there was any hope for them ever becoming as close of friends as they had once been. He wished now they were. “A damned waste, Huan, and what the Admiralty might say of it in England…” He pinched the bridge of his nose: he had little doubt that they’d have anything kind to say of it at all.
Lan Xichen didn’t know the promise Laurence had made to Temeraire, or that Laurence now remembered that along with everything else. He knew only Temeraire’s telling of it, with no sense of the timing, and had spent the days since their conversation worrying over it. He’d spent more time than he would like to admit privately wondering if Laurence had truly wanted to invite him to live at the covert, if Laurence was actually as serious about their relationship as he was, and whether he was once again only seeing what he wanted to see until he was forced to do otherwise.
One thing he did not doubt, however, was his own love for Laurence. Because of that, Lan Xichen had put his own concerns aside to offer comfort as his love grieved the loss of a dear friend. He knew those feelings too well, and he couldn’t bring himself to add any further trouble now. Thus, his tea cup was set on the table, and Lan Xichen was seated on the sofa beside Laurence.
“It does feel wasteful, when a man is taken so early by death and with so much left unsaid,” Lan Xichen said, placing a gentle hand on Laurence’s shoulder. “I am sorry, my heart. It is an awful thing to bear.”
Laurence kissed Lan Xichen's fingers on his shoulder before he could think better of it, and avoided only narrowly leaning into him, realizing only late that to do so would be manipulative; he wanted to be with Lan Xichen even if he couldn't marry him, but he'd not hold him hostage in a relationship if it was something Lan Xichen couldn't do without.
“I will manage,” he said. “It is damned strange, having the loss be fresh and old, simultaneously, but I suppose with time it will even out.”
He rubbed his brow with his hand, took a sip of his wine, and placed the glass on the table before he caught Lan Xichen’s hand in his own. He straightened, frowning as he glanced at Lan Xichen’s slim fingers.
“There was something else. Something I need discuss with you.”
It didn’t sound like a good thing, whatever it was. Lan Xichen could only guess at what it might be, and given his experience, his guesses of course ran wild. He took an even breath to maintain his outward serenity, finding it more difficult than usual to do so. He was here for Laurence, he reminded himself, and he would listen.
“Something else you remembered?” Lan Xichen asked.
“Yes,” Laurence said, running a thumb over Lan Xichen’s fingers. It was better to be out with it than not, he knew, and still he hesitated a moment. “I had not thought, had never had any cause to think, that someday I might have ever met someone like you. I suppose, back home, I never would have, though I might have searched the whole world over, if I’d been so inclined, and not only for the difficulty one might find in having a husband who was always away with the military, or in having a twenty-ton dragon to live with; in my travels, in fact, I’ve found that Europe is nearly singularly backward in their attitudes toward dragons. But rather, I had not thought it possible that I could find someone I loved half so much as…” He broke off awkwardly, cleared his throat. “To say nothing of my prospects, which were abysmally dim.
“That is to say, when Temeraire asked me to promise him that I’d not get married or have children, I’d thought the only thing I was giving up were vestiges from a life that I’d long since given up. But regardless of what my motivations were at the time, it is a promise I made to him.” He grimaced; he’d not made promises to Lan Xichen, though he’d come near enough to feel as though he were committing some betrayal, a man who’d promised marriage and was finding any poor excuse to renege once he’d taken what he wanted. “But he is very fond of you, Lan Huan, and perhaps if I mentioned the possibility to him…”
That was a somewhat different telling of events than the version Lan Xichen had gotten from Temeraire. It didn’t necessarily mean either the man or the dragon was lying; this seemed more a case of different interpretations of the same memory.
“I did that a few days ago.” Lan Xichen wasn't one to interrupt, but it didn’t sound as though Laurence knew how to finish that sentence. Better not to waste time, then, however much he felt like choking on the words. He looked down at their hands, still joined for the moment, as he spoke.
“I thought to ask for his approval before beginning a formal courtship, and he said you never wanted to be married. I have spent all the time since worried that I have already asked too much of you, with my shameless fishing for an invitation to live with you.”
“No, God no. I’d been dreaming for months of living with you, Lan Huan, only I could only think of how selfish it would be to ask you; your shameless fishing, as you call it, was entirely welcome.” Not nearly as welcome was the news that he’d already spoken to Temeraire, had not received his blessing. He swallowed, his fingers tightening on Lan Xichen’s. With Edith, he had selfishly dug his heels in about their long-kept promises, giving little thought to the difficulty of the position he’d placed her in until it was too late; he’d not make the same mistake now. “I will not hold you to an arrangement that cannot end in marriage, if that is something you greatly desire.”
“I do desire it,” Lan Xichen quietly replied. Before Laurence could run too far with that statement, though, Lan Xichen squeezed his hand. “But if I must make a choice between you and marriage, I would rather have you. I love you. I want to share a home and a life with you, and I want us to belong to each other. If I can have that, I think I can live without being able to call you my husband.”
It would still hurt to give that dream up. Since landing in Vallo and discovering that he could marry for love if he wished, it had become something Lan Xichen wanted. Disappointment was an old friend, though, and one he wouldn’t mind spending a little time with before his greater happiness sent it on its way.
Laurence felt the vice on his heart loosen its grip at those words, and he inhaled sharply. “I am sorry, darling. If I’d known before…” He trailed off, not finishing. If he’d known before, he likely as not would have never have let things progress so far, would not have let himself fall so completely in love, or let Lan Xichen do the same. But he couldn’t wish for that, couldn’t believe that Lan Xichen would have wanted it either, even if it would save him from this particular pain. He knew the selfishness in it, but in this, he didn't want to be altruistic. “I’m glad I didn’t,” he finished instead. “I’m glad to be yours, and that you are mine, even if it’s not under the eyes of God.”
Lan Xichen felt better hearing that clearly said. He could trust a commitment from Laurence, he thought, even if it was not made before Heaven and Earth and all the ancestors. The worry that he’d pushed too much could be marked off his list of concerns.
The tension in Lan Xichen’s neck relaxed and he leaned into Laurence, letting their shoulders press together.
“I am glad neither of us knew,” he softly said, and despite the sadness surrounding all this, he found himself smiling faintly. “Think of all the joy we would have missed, trying to spare ourselves pain. That would be a far worse fate than resigning ourselves to being scandalous lovers living together unwed.”
“It is a good thing that I’ve grown quite immune to scandal, even if such a thing were to be considered scandalous here.” He doubted very much that it would be, whatever reservations either one of them might have carried from home. If he had any doubts in the matter, then Ignis and all the lovers he lived with, quite openly, would have dispelled them entirely. He smiled. “But so long as it means living with you, then I do not mind, so much, living in sin.”
He signed, the last of the rigidity leaving him, and rested his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “What a dreadful day, Lan Huan; what I’ve not spent thinking of Tom, I’ve spent wondering if you’d leave me when I finally told you. I can’t imagine it’s been easier on you, these last few days.”
“It has been difficult,” he admitted. “When I spoke to A-Xiang, I didn’t know that he was referring to a conversation you had yet to remember. The conclusions I drew from that did not reflect well on me.”
All Lan Xichen’s worrying felt foolish to him now—mean, even. He knew Laurence better than to think he would put politeness above honesty on anything important. It wasn’t really that he didn’t trust Laurence, though; it was how badly his trust in himself had been damaged. Perhaps it was time to listen to his brother and have a little more faith.
Laurence raised his head, cupped Lan Xichen's cheek with his hand. "I cannot promise that, had our positions been reversed, I wouldn't have drawn the same conclusions. I'm not so familiar with diverging timelines that it would be a natural conclusion I reached. I am sorry that I could not alleviate your fears sooner."
Perhaps it was for the best; without the memory, he would have had words with Temeraire over what he'd told Lan Xichen, when none of this had been any fault of the dragon's.
Lan Xichen melted into that touch as he always did, this time with a sense of relief that Laurence wasn’t upset with him for what he’d thought.
“It’s all right,” he said, because the important thing was that it was all settled now. He was still feeling clingy, though, so Lan Xichen turned to tuck his legs up over Laurence’s lap and nestle in close. “I know better now, and that is good enough. And now we both know enough that you might have another conversation about marriage with A-Xiang one day, when he has had more time in Vallo to see that it does not have to be a miserable arrangement.”
“Indeed,” Laurence said, wrapping an arm around Lan Xichen’s waist and pulling him in closer still. He rested his head on his shoulder again. He didn’t always understand the workings of a dragon’s mind, and so he wasn’t so sure if he understood Temeraire’s objection to the act entirely, except that there had been some members of his crew – though none who had been particularly good sailors or aviators, and whom Temeraire had never seemed the care for otherwise – who’d left the crew to marry some of the Incan locals, and Harcourt had made clear her feelings of marriage when she’d needed to be convinced to marry Riley, to say nothing of the relative rarity of marriage within the Corps, and so he supposed it was understandable if Temeraire had a largely negative view on the matter, as a whole. With time, perhaps…
Or perhaps it would be one of those things which Temeraire would be unexpectedly stubborn about. It wasn’t that Temeraire wouldn’t eventually concede to nearly any request Laurence made of him, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter, if Laurence pressed him hard enough, but Laurence did not like to abuse his influence over the dragon when a compromise would leave him happier.
“And perhaps he’ll come around more easily once you live here with us,” Laurence said, and then added, uneasily, “You will still come live at the covert, I hope, even if marriage proves impossible?”
Lan Xichen had thought that question over repeatedly in the last few days. The push and pull between what he wanted and what was proper was familiar. Until tonight, though, there had been the added layer of trying to guess at what Laurence really wanted while navigating his own insecurities about being a terrible judge of character. Now, the question was much simpler.
“Yes, I will,” he said. The thought of it made Lan Xichen smile again, now that all the hopeless stress has been lifted from his shoulders. “Whatever our future may hold, I don’t want to waste any of our present.”
“No, there’s little enough of it as there is,” Laurence agreed; when Vallo could send either one of them away at its pleasure, the time was indeed short. He’d had his life uprooted often enough that he intended to fight for this one, or at the very least, he would cram as much happiness as he was able into it.