WHAT: Laurence approaches Temeraire again about the prospect of marrying Lan Xichen WHERE: The Dragon Covert WHEN: This evening WARNINGS: Nah STATUS: Complete
Laurence hadn’t lost many friends to Vallo’s whims, but he had lost some. None of them had shaken him like Eleanor and Marina’s disappearances had. Marina had been prickly, to say the least, and Eleanor had been the kind of cavalier that once would have rankled but had, after his time in the Aerial Corps and then New South Wales, been nearly charming, but they’d complimented each other well, and Laurence had been glad to see them working through their difficulties together. To have even decided to move in together.
Which meant their disappearance had come as a shock to him. He hoped that wherever they were, they were still together. If they weren’t together, he hoped they were, at least, happy; he knew that they both, apparently, had television shows out there about their lives, but even considering watching them felt like a gross breach of privacy, and he’d never entertained the idea.
As the weeks passed, though, he found himself thinking less of Eleanor and Marina, and more of Lan Xichen and himself. He was confident that, should he ever leave Vallo, Temeraire would be there, whether it was home, where Temeraire would be as a matter of course, or another dimension. There’d been a time here when he’d been unsure if he’d ever see the dragon again, but Temeraire’s appearance had put any worries to rest: there wasn’t a force in any universe that could keep them separated for long, save, perhaps, death, but as assured as Laurence was in the presence of a dragon’s soul, he was sure even that separation would measure only a few centuries against the entirety of eternity: he and Temeraire would be reunited in the afterlife.
He was less confident about the chances of finding Lan Xichen again, should either one of them leave Vallo. It had been a miracle that they’d found one another at all, through all the span of space and time, and he’d not count on a second miracle to reunite them should they ever be separated.
Which was when the second shock, of Dorian disappearing and leaving Cullen, his husband, but not in the reality that Dorian had come from, behind. Dorian and Cullen had been reaching their stride, and Laurence knew how happy Dorian had been to find him. Dorian had been Laurence's best friend, his oldest friend, and his disappearance had come like a knife to his belly, one that only twisted when Laurence thought of the love he'd left behind.
And so he’d spent more than his fair share of evenings lying awake, watching Lan Xichen sleeping beside him, until he’d come to the realization that this wasn’t how he wanted to spend the rest of his time with Lan Xichen: unwed, and longing for something more. He would manage, if he had to, if Temeraire really couldn’t be brought around to the idea of marriage. But it seemed, suddenly, remiss that he hadn’t tried to speak to Temeraire about the matter at all.
It felt too much like bribery or deceit to lull Temeraire with food, or a long, pleasant flight, or a book, and so all he’d prepared was some tea for the both of them before he went to find the dragon.
“Temeraire. I’ve a matter of some importance I’d like to discuss with you, if you’re not too busy with your studies.”
Temeraire was perfectly happy to talk with Laurence at any time, of course, but there was an edge of seriousness to his companion’s voice that worried him a little. “Not at all, Laurence,” he said, suppressing the urge to launch into a full explanation of everything he had read that week. He repositioned himself, offering his foreleg for Laurence to sit upon, if he would like, though he could already sense the sort of conversation that would have Laurence either pacing or standing with hands formally clasped behind his back. “You are well?” he asked, unable to help himself preempting the worst sort of news he could imagine.
Laurence glanced at the proffered foreleg, and then dismissed it. As much as he would’ve like to take his usual spot, it seemed better to remain standing.
“I’m very well, thank you. It’s nothing bad per se, nothing you need concern yourself with overmuch. But I would like to speak with you regarding my relationship with Lan Huan.”
“Ah.” Temeraire nodded, with a little trepidation. After his own discussion with Lan Xichen, the subject of marriage had not come up again, and he had assumed, perhaps optimistically, that the matter was settled. “Yes?”
Laurence took a breath, and clasped his hands behind his back. He’d not pace, he decided, and so he rooted his feet on the ground and felt not entirely unlike a schoolboy preparing to give a presentation. It was, altogether, a ridiculous feeling, but one he couldn’t quite shake.
“I know, back home, that you were rather hesitant at the idea of me taking a… a spouse. And while I won’t claim to fully understand why, precisely, it was of no consequence: I’d no intention, then, of marrying – Jane, as you know, had turned down my proposal and if not her, I did not think there was likely to be another woman who I would have wished to marry.” Let alone one who would be content as the wife of an aviator, and a traitor besides. “I’d moved past the desire of having children, if you’d no desire for me to have any progeny for your sake.
“I’d never expected, back home, that I might have met someone like Lan Huan, but I have been blessed, here in Vallo, with this chance to share my life with him – perhaps not my whole life, but what portion of it is here in this universe – and I do not wish to let it pass me by. I know he’s spoken to you on the subject before. But you should know, Temeraire, that he thinks of you as his own family, and I hope that you might think of him as your own as well, and I wish for nothing so much as…”
No, that wouldn’t do. Laurence paused for a moment, straightened his jacket, and clasped his hands behind his back again to stop from fidgeting with them.
“Temeraire, I would like very much to have our union recognized by law, and by God. I know you may have concerns on the matter, and I would be happy to discuss them with you, if they might ease some of your concerns. And if you don’t wish me to marry for any reason, then I hope you’ll tell me, and I won’t bring the subject up again; I would never intentionally do anything to upset you, my dear, only – only I hope, very much, that you might be as happy as Lan Huan and I would be.”
That likely could have gone better, but likewise, it could have gone much worse, and he thought he’d gotten it under control again toward the end.
“Oh.” Temeraire shifted a little, suddenly uncomfortable. He had always dreaded any such thing, at home, at least until Laurence had assured him that he would not; and while he found he did not object at all to Lan Xichen in the same way he might have to some woman chosen at random by the Emperor, for example, he was still not entirely sanguine. He did not, he felt, have a very good understanding of why marriage was so desirable, despite Lan Xichen’s best efforts to explain. And he liked Lan Xichen, but Laurence was his, and while he had been forced by necessity to give away countless precious things in his life, including gold and jewels and some of his most prized crew members, the idea of sharing Laurence in any such official way was sadly painful to imagine. After a long pause filled with conflicting emotions, he sighed. “It is not that I do not wish it, Laurence,” he said at last. “Of course I want you to be happy; if being married will make you happy then of course you must do it, only….” His ruff pricked along its edges as he tried to find the right words. “Oh, I am so very sorry,” he managed at last, “any objection I make must be very selfish, and I know I should not, there is no good reason for it at all, and I would do anything for you to be happy, only it does worry me, and I cannot at all say why.”
Laurence tried not to let the disappointment show on his face, though his shoulders did slump. He was, suddenly, very glad he'd not told Lan Xichen his plans to speak to Temeraire, because of course he couldn't marry him when Temeraire was so distressed by the idea, no matter what Temeraire said.
But perhaps hope wasn't entirely lost.
"Perhaps you can try," Laurence said, reaching out to lay a hand on Temeraire's talon. "Even if it sounds very selfish. I would willingly listen to all your worries, Temeraire, even if you think they sound very silly. Some of them may be irreconcilable, but perhaps some I might be able to lay to rest. May I sit with you?"
“Of course.” Temeraire pressed himself close to the warm stones of the courtyard. He already felt a little better once Laurence was seated in his usual place, even if he still looked very serious. “I will never understand Moncy or Percitia,” he said, very low. “They did not even want their captains, and thought I was odd for caring about you at all. And Churki was always in favour of marriage, so that she might make her allyu as big as possible. But I have always been happy with just you. And if you have someone else… will I have only half of you?”
Laurence felt more comfortable once he’d taken his perch in the crook of Temeraire’s elbow as well; there was something comforting with having Temeraire’s warmth under him, as he had so many nights both here and at home.
“Oh, Temeraire, no,” he said, and then floundered. The piece of himself that he’d given to Lan Xichen had been a piece that Temeraire could have never possessed in the first place, but he suspected that saying as much would not have been the comfort he meant it to be.
“No,” he repeated. “It is not as though I am a pile of gold. There is not less of me if I give parts to others. I am no less my mother’s son for being your captain, and likewise I would be no less your captain if I were to become Huan’s husband. You will never have half of me, Temeraire, I can promise you that; I am first, foremost, and always your captain.”
“I suppose that is true,” Temeraire said, meaning that people were not spendable in that way, and the stiffness along his ruff faded a little. He wished he might discuss the issue with another dragon who would understand - Lily, who had been through it herself, or Maximus - certainly not Iskierka, who would have married Granby to the most disagreeable person imaginable if it might make them both rich; Temeraire would never dream of treating Laurence so. He supposed he did share Laurence with his mother, already, except that she was not very often around, so it did not present any kind of problem. And “I will be busy, when term starts,” he added, as though trying to convince himself. “You will not need to occupy me quite so much, and I am glad,” he went on, with more feeling, “that Lan Xichen will be around to look after you when I cannot. I am only being silly, Laurence, please do not mind me.”
“You must know that I do not mind ‘occupying’ you, Temeraire,” Laurence said. “I enjoy all the time we spend together, especially after all the time I spent apart from you.” He frowned to himself. “I hope that I’ve not given you the impression that I wish we would spend less time together. I am glad that you’ll be starting classes, and I hope that you’ll make plenty of friends like Abi once you begin school, but only because I hope it will make you happy, and not because I wish for you to go away.
“I don’t think you’re being silly at all.” He frowned, hesitating, and then added tentatively, “Temeraire, are you very lonely here? Without any other dragons to speak to?”
Temeraire began to say that no, not at all, he was perfectly content, but something stopped him just in time. “Well,” he said finally, “perhaps a little, but I was much lonelier in Pen y Fan, when you were in prison, and there were plenty of dragons around to talk to there whether I liked to or not.” He blew hot air through his nostrils, irritated by even the memory. “I do miss Perscitia and Lily and Maximus, and some of the others.” Not Iskierka, certainly not Iskierka, and he did not care at all that he couldn’t send or receive letters from Ning, either. “There are so many things I would like to tell them about.”
If Laurence could, he’d have moved Heaven and Earth to bring Temeraire even the smallest amount of happiness, and, had he the choice, he would have brought all of Lily’s formation and any other dragon besides, without a second’s hesitation. That he couldn’t do this for Temeraire made him ache. He tried to remind himself that those who’d been trapped in Vallo seemed to have very little control over her whims, and just because he’d fervently wished for Temeraire to come didn’t mean that he’d summoned him here; he was not responsible for separating Temeraire from a life where he could make a real difference, and all his friends as well. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty for it.
“I was very lonely too, when you were not here,” Laurence said, resting a hand against Temeraire’s leg. “I’m sorry, Temeraire. As selfish as it is, I’m glad you’re here with me, but I wish I could bring the rest of the formation here as well.”
“Well, perhaps some of them will come, some time,” Temeraire said, a little doubtfully, and sighed. “I will be all right, Laurence, pray do not worry. I do want you to be married if it will make you happy, and,” he went on, brightening a little, “I suppose it will be a very fine affair, with everyone dressed their very best? What will you wear? Will you hold it here, or does it have to be in a church?” He did his best not to snort dismissively at this idea.
Laurence wasn’t much more positive than Temeraire in that regard, and so would not assure Temeraire that they surely would; he’d all but given up hope on Temeraire appearing, before he did, and the chances of Granby or Tharkay or anyone else arriving seemed to shrink day by day.
“I hope you won’t say so only because you think I want you to,” Laurence said, though he wasn’t able to contain his evident pleasure as he continued. “But it will be a very fine affair, my dear, with plenty of fine dress, and most likely an exchanging of jewellery of some sort.” He didn’t know, precisely, what tradition would dictate from Lan Xichen’s side of things: Laurence thought he would like wedding bands to mark the occasion, but he didn’t think wedding rings were exchanged in China, and he and Lan Xichen had promised to come up with their own traditions together. “Normally, I would wear my dress uniform, though I suppose I might have something tailored especially for the event. I mustn’t wear anything that would overshadow Lan Huan, of course,” Laurence added, thinking of the Imperial Robes which had followed him into Vallo, which Temeraire would surely suggest if he thought of it. “And of course, we would not be wed anywhere where you might not attend. I would like very much for you to be standing at my side when we exchange our vows, Temeraire.”
Temeraire shivered a little with pride at that, even though he did not have a perfect idea of the significance; he had not at all liked to think that something so important might happen all shut up away in a tiny building where he could not see, and felt much better about it to know he would be there for Laurence just as Lily had been for Catherine, even if she had not been entirely sanguine about it. “I do not see how you could overshadow Lan Xichen, much,” he admitted, thinking wistfully of the lovely robes and headpieces that the Lans and the other associated families wore. Sometimes he was so busy admiring them that it was hard to focus on what they were actually saying. “Unless you were to dress in their style, but perhaps it would not be appropriate.” He settled with more comfort against the flagstones and drew his wing up to shade them both a little. He considered that nothing would change much, anyway; Lan Xichen already lived at the covert. He would settle for marriage being one of those human things he might never properly understand, like childbirth, or religion. He tried not to think of what might happen if Lan Xichen - or, in his nightmare of nightmares, Laurence, were to vanish inexplicably just as so many others seemed to do on occasion. “Let us go flying later,” he suggested, before this thought could work its way too deep into his so lightly settled mind, “just you and I? These warm evenings are so perfect for flying.”
Laurence smiled, feeling content in a way that he very rarely ever had, his life never having had enough certainty to feel anything of the like. He supposed things weren’t quite so certain now, not when anyone could disappear without so much as a warning, but it wasn’t so different than death – sometimes less permanent, in fact – and he did not spend all his days worrying about when the people he cared about would die.
He was certain of Temeraire, just as he was certain of Lan Xichen, and his future with the both of them, and so, when he said, “Yes, dear heart, let’s,” his voice was filled with a warmth that was only rarely heard.