dye

[isthisart]

The next time Linya and Ekaterin meet up (for impromptu bonsai skellytum pruning lessons, lunch, and an attempt to teach Ekaterin the simplest version of a complicated haut card game) Linya says, while shuffling for a second example round:

"Miles and I are planning to get married again, Barrayaran ceremony groats and all, and I wondered if you'd be my Second."

Comments

[isthisart]

And when Alys looks at Linya:

"I, Linyabel Miriat, do take thee, Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, to be my spouse and helpmeet, forsaking all others. I swear to stand with you, united in love; to give aid where needed, and accept it where given; to guard your honor as you guard mine, our lives intertwined, for as long as we both shall live."

And then she makes a graceful little curtsy so she can kiss him without picking him up off the bricks.

[thisvorlunatic]

Kiss! Excessively married kiss!

(That is a lie. They are just the right amount of married.)

[middlingalong]

And when Linya stands up again, Ivan sweeps a gap in the circle of groats, makes eye contact with the bride, and -

loses his nerve at the last minute and kisses her just on the cheek. And promptly stands beside Ekaterin to collect her arm and walk her out of the groat arrangement.

Armsmen, off where they are lined up, perform their Shout.

[thisvorlunatic]

Well, now Miles is giggling.

[first_loyalty]

(Ekaterin is too polite to giggle.)

[isthisart]

There is dinner, and dancing, and small talk, and much gooey gazing between bride and groom.

[first_loyalty]

The gooey gazing is rather adorable.

[isthisart]

And after the guests have been cleared away and Linya has valiantly refrained from carrying her husband up to their nuptial bed -

- the positive energy of the wedding seeps away bit by bit and leaves her pensive.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles cuddles up.

"Something wrong?"

[isthisart]

"Not exactly. I don't think I was supposed to overhear - and in fact didn't hear clearly enough to identify the speaker, though I'm not sure what could be done with the information - but I heard someone muttering about what I'm assuming was a nasty name for future children of ours."

[thisvorlunatic]

"...Um? What did they say...?"

[isthisart]

"Are you sure you want to hear it?"

[thisvorlunatic]

He sighs. "Yes. I've probably heard worse."

[isthisart]

"Quote, 'the next generation of Vorkosigans will be little twice-mutie monsters'."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Yes, that's a nasty name, and yes, sadly, I've heard worse." He locates one of her hands and kisses it. "Did it bother you?"

[isthisart]

"Not by itself. It is sort of alarming in the sense that - all my instincts are to retort that I know what I'm doing, I have more than enough knowhow, I passed my classes with excellent marks, hell, I could afford all the equipment I need out of pocket now that I've sold enough pens - I am competent - and I don't know if any of that is going to matter, because we haven't talked about it. Maybe it doesn't matter that I know what I'm doing. They'd still be mistaken, but it's because you're not in fact genetically damaged and because a woman I met once was under constraint to ensure that random-assembly would work and knew what she was doing. I feel very removed from the hypothetical process."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'm... not sure I understand what you mean," he says slowly. "I mean - it certainly wouldn't matter to a Barrayaran who'd call our children twice-muties in the first place, whether or not you are competent to... design... them."

[isthisart]

"I know. The remark only precipitated that line of thinking - it's like when I mentioned how people on Eta Ceta talked about my balance issue, a little, I think. My intuited defenses against that sort of nastiness - the reasons I generate to reassure myself that it's nonsense - are distinctly imported, and I don't know yet if they've survived the trip intact." She shakes her head. "If it's - look, you're entitled to random-assembly children if you want them, that's well within the scope of what I originally bargained for, it only - is not the subject of my fondest wishes."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I, um," says Miles. "I haven't really... thought about it, to be honest. I don't know what my fondest wishes are. Do you know yours?"

[isthisart]

"They're - well, modest by Cetagandan standards. But they do not involve random assembly. I don't know how much detail you're comfortable with...?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"How much detail about what?"

[isthisart]

"About what I'd be doing if you handed me a somatic cell sample and told me that all you required of me was that the result be a baby."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Um... give it to me straight," he says with a little shrug.

[isthisart]

"I'm principally concerned about quality of life interventions. I don't think it's a stretch to say I'm legitimately afraid of having a child who sees me as not only a designer to be held responsible for his or her characteristics but also as a parent to be applied to for relief from various aches and pains who then goes on to have them. I can't make them invulnerable to, I don't know, falls from heights, deciding to eat bees, walking facefirst into glass doors, but they don't have to have headaches. They don't need to cry when they teethe or get colic or catch colds or be allergic to half the species on their native planet or experience ingrown toenails or suffer through ear infections or itch in dry weather. If you let me work on them." She shrugs. "I care a lot less about everything else - I'm not getting much value beyond your admiration from the prettiness, and while I like your admiration I think half-haut children will be more than pleasant enough to look at for any purpose that isn't sabotaged by their very origins. I don't care very much how tall they are except that if they're going to be as tall as, say, Ivan, there's an adjustment to the heart muscle that would improve longevity - I have no specific designs on their hormone balances or - or inner ear morphology as long as they're within any remotely reasonable values, I don't need to pick their eye color. Although if I were completely unconstrained I think I'd give them yours," she adds softly.

[thisvorlunatic]

He smiles a little at that last.

"I... really, honestly don't know what I want," he murmurs. "I know I have - feelings, preferences of some kind - but I don't know which parts of the, um, traditional child creation process I feel strongly about keeping and which parts I could just as well leave. I'm... going to have to think about it."