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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Ben has learned some things about Vice Admiral Fallon that evoke unpleasant memories. He goes to confront the man. Minor violence, confusion, and whiskey ensue. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Chain: Prompt Responses
Ben knocked on the door at the end of the swaying, lamp-lit hallway.
“Aye,” called a voice from within, and Ben opened the door and ducked in.
He'd been in the captain's cabin of the Lady Blanche a few times lately. It was pretty posh for a ship, but then again the Lady Blanche seemed like a pretty posh ship.
It wasn’t just the newness of her or the money that probably went into her but the neatness: the way everything had a place, efficiently stowed, the way the ropes were coiled and the decks were sanded white, the way the crew all went crisp and certain about their work. The expression shipshape had made a whole lot more sense to Ben since coming on the Lady Blanche.
The captain’s cabin was as shipshape as the rest of it, despite the two boarded broken windows and the charts tacked open with candlewax at one end of the big table. If you could ignore the way the whole thing moved around — which was a knack Ben didn’t have yet — it was just an uncommonly tidy fellow’s apartment.
Except, he saw as he closed the door behind him, this afternoon it was not uncommonly tidy. This afternoon there was a jumble of leather armor bits left casual on the floor near the bed, bracers and pauldrons, and a scrap of cloth he couldn’t identify at a glance and decided not to stare at long enough to figure out.
“Hazan?” said the Vice Admiral’s voice, puzzled but friendly. “What can I do for ye?”
Ben looked over. The other man was standing between the row of windows and the table. He was in his shirtsleeves, dressed like a sailor instead of how Ben expected a Vice Admiral would dress — he’d seen Lord Fallon in his naval uniform a few times in the last days, but more often than not he just looked like this, a sailor. It was another thing Ben had liked about him, before, that he didn’t put himself too much up over his people, that he was most of the time on the deck and doing the work and looking the same as everyone else.
Now Ben found it just made him angry. Angrier. The fellow ought to put his damned uniform on and have some boundaries with people.
The Vice Admiral went to the table and laid down some papers he’d been holding, still watching Ben with that slight, sly smile he always had, one eyebrow tilted. Ben had never thought there was anything especially mean in the expression before, just a fellow having a joke with himself, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
The Vice Admiral nodded amiably. “I gathered as much, aye. From the fact that ye came in here.” He waited.
Now that he was in here, Ben couldn’t remember how he’d meant to begin. All the words he’d run around carefully in his head before coming down here were blocked now by the knot of anger in him. So he just gestured at the things on the floor. “Is that Aze’s stuff?”
The Vice Admiral glanced over at them. “Aye,” he said, no surprise and no unease in the answer. “Did Aszera send ye down? Does she need something?”
“Does your wife know?” Ben asked coldly. “That you are fuckin’ Aze?”
The Vice Admiral threw a startled look back at Ben. His brows drew together like he was puzzled again — not mad, just confused. “I’m not certain what business that is of yours.”
“I don’t like a man to be disrespectful of his wife.” Ben glared.
The Vice Admiral blinked. After a moment, his smile started again. “I beg your pardon. Are ye here to… defend my wife’s honor? Against me?”
The smile tripped off something in his head and for a second the world took on a reddish haze. Ben made fists, relaxed them, took a breath. “I am here because Aze is a friend, your wife is a nice lady — who just had a damn baby — and I had a pretty high opinion of you so I'd be sorry to find out you are the kind of shit goes stepping out on her when she is at home looking after your kid and minding your business.”
The smile didn't go away. “And here ye come yourself to mind my business, so I'm sure that will take some strain off Lady Fallon.” The Vice Admiral picked up one of the papers on the table, then set it down again. He never stopped looking at Ben. “As it happens, I am sleeping with Aszera. I sleep with a number of people. Her Grace is well aware.”
Ben saw his mother at the kitchen sink, turning away from the window where his dad was leaning on the fence talking sly to Maryal Winder and playing with a lock of her hair, smiling and smiling at her.
I'm well aware, Ben, Ma had said in answer to the anxious, uncertain tale he'd carried. I'm well aware. Never mind it, it's time to wash up. And Ben saw how threadbare she looked, faded and insubstantial like the light could go right through her in her frayed apron, and knew it was Dad making her invisible, a little bit at a time.
“So you are telling me your wife knows and you just go rubbing her face in it?” he demanded.
Now the smile faded and the eyebrows went up. “I wouldn't say that, no. Her Grace and I understand one another. The particulars of our marriage are not something either of us would care to have thrown about widely, but I can tell ye –”
“So you go behind her back and it's fine as long as no one talks about it? You tell your girls like Aze that you and your wife got an understanding?”
The Vice Admiral stood very still. All the smiling was gone. He held Ben's gaze evenly. “I do tell them that. As it's true. I didn't realize I ought to carry a signed permission with me to present to every upstart who'd like to interrogate me just to hear his own voice, or out of some misbegotten notion of propriety. If ye would put your head on properly and listen –”
Ben took three fast steps, rounding the table toward him. The Vice Admiral stood his ground. “Hazan,” he said sharply. “I don't know what the hell’s got into ye or gives ye any right –”
Before he could get back in his right sense, Ben took a swing at the other man.
He did it fast and without thinking, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t telegraphed it but the Vice Admiral was ready: as Ben swung, he was already a step back and ducking away. Ben felt his fist make contact, but it was a glancing blow; his knuckles clipped the other man’s jaw and then met air.
He recovered fast and jabbed with his left as the Vice Admiral was still moving in that direction, but the man got his hands up fast to deflect. His palms were open though and it was a bad angle, and Ben heard a sharp-hissed breath as the Vice Admiral fell back another step.
Maybe that’s what raised him to his senses; maybe his senses just caught up with him. Either way, Ben froze.
He’d just hit a Vice Admiral of the Alliance, a member of the House of Nobles, on his own ship in the middle of the ocean.
“Oh, fuck me,” he said hoarsely.
“Aye, fuck you indeed,” said the Vice Admiral mildly, examining his wrist as he flexed it. “If this is a sprain, I’m going to be put out.” He glanced up and surveyed Ben sternly from beneath his brows.
“Sir –” said Ben.
“If you’re going to apologize to me, don’t,” the man said sharply, and Ben shut up so fast he almost bit his tongue.
The Vice Admiral flexed his wrist again, grimaced, and then said in a dry way, “I appreciate a man who comes to the defense of a lady’s honor. Even when the lady is my wife.” He tilted his head and considered. “Or perhaps especially when the lady is my wife. I expect she’ll be flattered when I tell her.” He lowered his wrist. “And at least ye didn’t call me out. I’d have been grieved to have to shoot ye.”
He touched the side of his jaw experimentally where Ben’s knuckles had made contact, and then turned away and went to a cupboard along the wall. From it he took a bottle and a couple of glasses. “Now,” he said as he pulled the cork from the bottle, “perhaps ye could tell me where this ardent defense of my wife —” He paused and turned back to Ben, interest in his gaze. “Are ye sleeping with her?”
“What? No!” Ben stepped back, anger surging up again. Anger and confusion: the Vice Admiral didn’t look pissed off.
At Ben’s denial, the man nodded affably and turned away again to pour drinks. “No, of course, I beg your pardon. She’d likely have said something.”
That confused him again. “Said something? To… you?”
“Aye.” The Vice Admiral put the bottle away and picked up the two glasses of liquor. He brought them over and offered one to Ben.
Ben took it automatically. Everything felt off-kilter. “If your wife was sleepin’ with me, she would tell you?”
The Vice Admiral shrugged genially. “I expect she would, as we’re both acquainted with ye and she wouldn’t want ye to feel awkward about it.”
“She wouldn’t want me to feel….” Ben took a quick slug of the liquor. It was whiskey, and it burned but not as much as he would’ve liked it to to clear his head. That was the problem with expensive whiskey. “And you are sayin’ she knows you’re fuckin' Aze.”
The Vice Admiral tipped his head to one side, half a shrug and half a headshake. “Not Aszera specifically. They’ve never met. Although they will soon enough. Aszera is coming to visit Fallon House for a little while.”
Ben lowered his glass. “She is… goin’ to stay at your house. Where your family is.”
The Vice Admiral raised an eyebrow like Ben was the one being weird about this. “Aye.”
“And you think your wife won’t mind it?”
“I know she won’t mind it,” the man said, and then considered. “She may have some qualms about Aszera’s being an elf. For political reasons, y’understand. But I expect Aszera herself can reassure her on that front. She has a creditable service record.” He shrugged again and had a drink. “But I do think now ye owe me an explanation. Ye can’t hit a man in the face and not explain yourself.”
“I owe you —” Ben stared at him. “I reckon I been clear enough. You’re the one that ain’t —” He was not sure how this had turned entirely ass-backwards on him.
The Vice Admiral touched his jaw again. “It’s not the first time I’ve been hit on a lady’s behalf, ye understand. I’m inclined not to hold it against ye, but usually the person hitting me has some relation to the lady in question that makes him feel entitled. We’ve established you’re not a lover of Her Grace, and I know you’re not her kin, so I’m not altogether clear what your basis is.”
Ben thought of Ma again. “I don’t like a fellow who cheats,” he said stiffly.
“‘Cheating’ implies that I’m being dishonest. As I said, Her Grace knows full well that —”
“My mother known it too,” Ben snapped. “He made it hard not to. Ain’t make it right, or make her feel any better about it.”
The Vice Admiral regarded Ben for a silent, level moment. “Ah,” he said. “Now we come to it.” His eyes were dark and very serious, no trace of that smile. “I imagine your parents had particular vows, a particular understanding, and your father violated your mother’s trust. I am sorry for that. I’m not a dishonest man, and the Duchess and I came to a mutual understanding before we married. It is our particular understanding, one we’re both content with, and there is no ill feeling.”
“And how would you feel if she was sleeping around?” Ben demanded.
Now the smile returned, faintly. “I would hope she was enjoying herself and that her lover was treating her as well as she deserves.”
He’d said that, Ben recalled. He’d said she’d likely have said something. He had said a lover of Her Grace. He thought of what Sil had said, about certain noble marriages. He thought of the two of them at separate ends of the place at Bertrand and Priscilla’s wedding. “So you are only married for politics. You do not actually like each other that much.”
The Vice Admiral tilted a brow. “We married for politics, aye. And for money, in fact, and for our Houses. But it also happens, happily, that I like my wife very much indeed.”
Ben’s disbelief must have showed, because the Vice Admiral waved his glass around at the room they stood in. “This ship is named for my wife. A nickname I gave her. There are two portraits of my wife in this room and you’ll forgive me for not showing either of them to ye but they’re personal. I don’t travel without them. I’ve just had a letter from my wife wi’news of our family and of her pregnancy, because she knows I worry when I’m not there.”
“Her pregnancy?” Ben asked, astounded. “She just had a baby. You mean she is — ?”
“Aye,” said the Vice Admiral, and smiled again, inclining his head. “Because I like my wife very much.”
“You were hiding from her at the Aspenwoods’ wedding.”
“I was. D’ye not have any games with your wife?”
Ben wasn’t sure why he felt suddenly awkward for not having games with Mizmainy. And then he was annoyed about it because what the fuck, who had games like hiding from their wives at parties? “I don’t sleep around on my wife, neither.”
The Vice Admiral lifted his gaze to the ceiling like he was starting to feel a little exasperated. “Well, that’s your arrangement with your wife, then. And I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to conduct it, only that ye must be honest to it and to her.” He looked mildly at Ben again. “I don’t believe it’s necessary — or even plausible — that ye should care about only a single person in a certain way unchanging and forever. A great many people do think that, but I’m not one. Even if I did think it, I don’t think that sleeping with someone has any bearing on how much ye care about them or any of the other people in your life.” He nodded at the things on the floor by the bed. “I like Aszera. She’s a lovely girl and we have a fine time. She’s a friend. I don’t feel the way about her that I do about my wife. Even if I did, why should it stop me from feeling the way I do about my wife? The one has no bearing on the other.”
There was too much in there for Ben to pick out an answer. He couldn’t claim himself that he’d fucked most of the girls he had because he was in love with them. But that was why he wouldn’t fuck any of them now: because he didn’t love them, and he wouldn’t hurt Mizzy for something that cheap. For anything, really. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if he did love someone else besides Mizzy. “I don’t think I get that,” he said at last.
The Vice Admiral shrugged. “That’s fine, as long as you’re not going around hitting a man about it. I don’t particularly… ‘get’ the other way, myself, but I’ve never fought with a man over his desire to remain monogamous.”
“That’s different,” Ben pointed out. “Monogamy ain’t affectin’ anyone else.”
“Isn’t it? What if I developed deep feelings for an attractive young man” — he paused and eyed Ben in a slow, smiling way — “and could neither do nor say anything about it because he was in the prior possession of someone else? I assure you that monogamy can also wound.” He had another sip of his drink and his smile went away. “It seems to me it wounded your mother.”
Ben bristled. “It wasn’t monogamy that wounded her, it was a cheating piece of shit. You just want to have your cake and eat it.”
“Of course I do. I like cake. My wife likes cake, and I think she should have it and eat it also. I think anyone who wants to should have their cake and eat it. So to speak. I’m not in the business of depriving anyone of cake, or requiring that anyone deprive themselves.”
“Can’t always get what we want,” Ben told him.
“Also correct. But when we can, why shouldn’t we?”
Ben stared at him for a moment. The Vice Admiral stared back blandly.
“I feel like you are talkin’ in circles somehow,” Ben said at last. “I am not… I don’t have arguments, but I still don’t agree.”
The Vice Admiral shrugged. “I’m not trying to change your mind, only explain mine. Ye don’t have to be persuaded about it personally, so long as ye understand it enough that ye don’t try to hit me again.”
Ben looked at the drink in his hand. “I can’t hit you. I’m holding a glass.”
The Vice Admiral nodded sagely. “Aye. Why d’ye think I gave ye the glass?” He had a sip of his own drink and smiled gleam-eyed at Ben over the rim of it.
Ben looked back down into his drink, then lifted it and tossed it back. He was of a mind to say something else and was trying to sort out what it was when the Vice Admiral spoke first.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About your parents.”
Ben looked up. The man was looking back at him steady and serious. He did look, in fact, pretty sorry.
“It seems to me that your father was a dishonest man who treated your mother dishonorably. She deserved better. As did you.”
Ben’s eyes felt hot. He twisted his mouth and looked away. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
“D’ye want another drink?” the Vice Admiral asked, quiet and serious.
Ben shook his head and set his empty glass on the table. “No,” he said. “No, I’m good. I’m just gonna — I’m gonna go out, now.”
The Vice Admiral nodded gravely. “As ye like. I’d thank ye for coming, but.” He waved a hand at his jaw. “But you’re welcome if ye ever want to come again. Preferably not in temper.”
Ben nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He went to the door and paused with his hand on the latch. He looked back. “Thanks.”
The Vice Admiral saluted with his drink. “Carry on, Hazan.”
Ben let himself out.