![](http://cobalt-company.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/writing:2023-05-13-so-like-a-legal-pirate/style="margin:/medium.jpg) |
| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Ben returns home to Hillsbrad as soon as the portals are restored, and discusses a peculiar invitation with Ismene. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
It is late afternoon, the sun spilling honey through the apple-blossom clouds of the Callis Hazan Orchards, when a swift drumbeat heralds a familiar palomino horse galloping at a ground-eating pace up the road through the trees to the house, trailing raised-dust banners in his wake. In the yard before the house, the horse skips two steps and stutters to an abrupt halt; his rider doesn't even wait for Chester the groom before he drops from the saddle and runs for the door of the house. Stay there, horse. Help is coming. Nor does Ben wait for Barnsby to greet him at the door, but shoulders through it like he means to break it down and then sort of staggers to a stop in the front hall at the foot of the stairs. "Mizzy?" he calls. "Mizmainy?"
All the windows are thrown open, and spring, apple blossom air blows through the house. Does he notice? Probably not. He might notice that most of the froo-fraw and gee-gaws and knick-knacks are gone. The marble floor has been removed and the hardwood gleams with the efforts from a good sanding and polishing. The walls have had their paneling removed and shine with a fresh coat of whitewash. Even the poor spindly banister has been replaced by a length of curving applewood, also polished until it's soft and sleek.
The latter is important because Ismene skitters down the stairs at a pace that would be breakneck if not for that bannister. "Ben?!" Keeping hold of it lets her slingshot herself around the end to lunge at her husband. "Ben!" She leaps into the air, into his arms, hopefully. Catch yer wife, Ben.
Ben catches the heck out of his wife and spins her around, crushing her against him. He has noticed absolutely nothing about the house's new, improved condition. "Mizmainy, fucken damn I missed you." He buries his face in her hair a moment, breathing deeply, and then carries her back to the staircase to set her on the second step so that she is at appropriate kissin' height. He cradles her face between his hands and kisses her in such a fashion that if Barnsby has appeared by now, he has probably immediately elected to discreetly disappear.
When Ben breaks the kiss, he is breathless and laughing. "Damn. Look at you." He steps back to sweep her with a look.
She'd pirouette to show off her pretty white dress with all the floral embroidery on the tulle, but a) not enough space and b) not turning away from Ben for even a moment. "Look at you," she insists, resting her hands on his chest. Her deep brown eyes are wide and shining and probably kind of tearing up. "Oh, I missed you, I missed you every day!"
That's enough being apart. She leans precariously in to hug herself to him. "It's been terrible. How've you been?" she asks, voice slightly muffled against Ben because Ben.
"I have been okay. I'm okay. Apart from missin' the hell out of you." He crushes her again for a moment before relenting — not letting go, mind you, but allowing her to breathe. Probably. "They got the portalin' fixed. You hear? We can go back an' forth now." He rocks her against him. "I can come home whenever. You can come back to Dalaran whenever, be wherever you got to." He puts his face in her hair again and unwraps her just so that he can slide his hands down her back, down the shape of her waist and over her hips. His fingers toy with the fabric of her skirt as if he means to pull it up, but, you know. There are people around here someplace. Presumably. "How are you? How's Sir? The whole… House shit? He gonna get it, you think?"
The House shit makes her groan and tip her head back so the ceiling can tell she's groaning. "Ugh, he'll get it," she says. "He has too much support not to, but the infighting for four seats! If there were only one, I'd understand it. Fortunately, his most ardent detractor has a daughter who seems to support his candidacy, even though she’s also in the running. I'm hoping Lord Westbridge will be diving back into the fray; that man could charm the wings off a dove, I swear. We should send him north so he can chastise Arthas into surrendering." Hm, look, buttons. She looks at the buttons on his shirt and then undoes one. Maybe two. "How've you been, I want to hear everything, especially the stuff you promised yourself you wouldn't tell me because you didn't want me to worry."
She tries her best to give him a stern look, but she hasn't quite learned how to weaponize an eyebrow.
Ben grins at her stern look. "Miss Kitten," he says, and kisses her nose, which is perhaps not the effect she was hoping to achieve. Or perhaps it was. "Mostly we have been down to Dragonblight workin' on… bugs, and plague cultists. Blue Squad gets fucken dragons, we get bugs." He sighs dramatically, pauses, amends. "Nerubians. Paluuva says we got to call them nerubians."
"Nerubians? The giant spider people? And plague cultists?!" She bites her lips. "Well, I guess it's ridiculous of me to say that doesn't sound safe but really, it doesn't. You've been all right, though? It's all been working out? You've been… safe I suppose though I know you haven't been, not really. I'm glad you haven't been fighting dragons, I'd have worried all the time!" Hey look, another button. She can now touch his skin. That is worth touching. Hello, Ben's chest, she has missed you. "Oh! You're just in time to come to a charity function we're co-hosting with the Fallons. Oh! You must meet them!" She pauses. "Well, not Lady Sintha so much, she's difficult, but her brother is a privateer! Oh! Also, my mother will be there, sorry." Someone stop her before she can say 'oh' again.
"Oh, shit, yeah." Ben's expression changes to one of deep bemusement, and he pulls a square of card from his pocket and unfolds it. (It has been Very Folded.) He shows it to Mizzy. "What's this about? This is — I mean, it come to Dalaran. For me, and — I mean I reckon we all got one."
Well ok, but that means she has to stop petting his chest. She takes the card and unfolds it, then sighs. "Yes, that's the invitation. I didn't realize she was going to send one to everyone, but…" Thinking hard, she blinks. "Oh no. You don't suppose even Sandy got one, did he?"
Ben knits his brows. "I… dunno. I… guess?" Oh, boy. "Wait, though, go back. So the Fallons is — who? Why're we havin' a party with them? Who is — wait. A privateer?"
Ismene takes a deep breath. "The Fallons, Ben, are a very wealthy and titled family and they own the land on which you're currently standing. So when Lady Sintha Fallon wants to host a charity event with us, we say that we're delighted and isn't it a wonderful idea and we cannot wait. Lord Siamus Fallon is the head of the family, and he's a privateer, which is like a pirate except he only attacks enemy ships, and some of what he takes goes back to the kingdom." She thinks. Yes, that was all his questions. She waits patiently to see if he comes up with anything else.
Ben thinks about all of this very carefully. "So he's… a good pirate? Like, with the law and all?"
"Exactly," she says, nodding. "With the King's full permission and a nice commission and everything. He's a pirate, but he's our pirate." Siamus probably doesn't think about it that way, but who knows? Maybe he does.
Siamus absolutely does not. He would appreciate it if everyone would stop accusing him of capital crimes. But he's not here and Ben digs pirates, so.
"Damn," says Ben admiringly, and a little starry-eyed. "A legal pirate. His wife is called Sintha? What's wrong with her?"
"His sister is Sintha, yes they're both single, and I won't go getting any ideas if you don't." Then she laughs. "You'd probably want to marry Siamus, anyway, and I'm certainly not marrying Sintha." That's said with a nose-wrinkle. Sorry, Sintha.
"I would not," says Ben immediately, sort of affronted, and then eyes Mizzy warily. He does not ask how good-looking the legal pirate is. Because he does not go that way.
Wait, but Mizzy does. "You better not."
Pleased, she wraps her arms around his waist. "I wouldn't," she says. "I'm not fond of pirates, I like farm boys."
"You better," he says gruffly, and kisses the top of her head. "What I miss while I was– fucken hell, kitten-cat." Ben stares all around them. He has suddenly noticed the house is Different.
"Oh. Um. Yes." She looks nervous, then takes a few steps back down to the bottom floor. "I had a … a few things done. Since the workmen came to remove the closet." Ismene turns back to him, twisting her fingers together. "Are you… You don't mind, do you?"
"Mind?" He is wide eyed, and actually lets go of her long enough to turn in a circle. He whistles. "Miss Kitten, it is… amazin'. It is… like a whole other house. In a good way." He looks back at her, grinning, and then the grin fades. "The closet's out, then?"
She nods, then reaches for his hands. "It's out," she says quietly. "It turns out someone had done substantial damage to the wall itself, not just the door, so removing it was easy enough." Maybe she's teasing, but she doesn't smile. "It feels… terrifying, somehow. But I just don't go in that room. I had my father's office redone for both of us, too, but that's still in process and won't be complete for a bit yet."
Ben lets go of her hands immediately to gather her up in his arms again and rest his cheek on top of her head. "I am sorry. But it's better. Yeah? It's better, and it'll get better every time you go by that room and see that closet ain't there no more." He squeezes her.
"It's better," Ismene agrees, melting against him. She takes a deep breath. "Home," she murmurs.
"Home," Ben says. He exhales as though somehow his respiratory system is connected to Mizzy's and he is doing the other half of that breath. He strokes a hand over her hair, and then hesitates. "Is there people home?" he asks. No reason.
Ismene grins, then turns her head away and toward the kitchen. "MR. AND MRS. BARNSBY?"
From the kitchen, there are twin laughs, his and hers. "Leavin' now, lass!" Mr. Barnsby yells back.
"No, Ben," Ismene says, looking up at him with big brown eyes. "There's no one home but us. Why do you ask, I wonder?" Blink blink.
Ben bends to wrap his arms around Mizzy's thighs and scoop her up, tossing her over his shoulder. "I would like to see if you done anything different to our room, and if not maybe I could get you to do something." He starts to climb the stairs two at a time.