Meme meme meme

[raven]

I am very very very tired - got up sixish following a very unsettled night and spent several hours race-marshalling on Queen's Green. (Got up before my AO3 kudos email! that is my definition of early.) It's for charity, it was good fun if freezing cold, and there were literally more than a thousand runners - it seemed very much like every local business and every university faculty had a team, which made for a feeling of general camaraderie if very unwieldy team names. (It's quite difficult to shout, "Go, go South Cambridgeshire District Council!" but people womanned up and did it.) Work had four teams. I stood there in my high-vis and attempted not to yawn.

Anyway. I am tired and trying hard not to fall asleep. To that effect, let's do this, nabbed from fahye:

Pick a trope from this list and provide a fandom/pairing and I’ll tell you something about the story I’d write for that combination (i.e. write a snippet from the story or write not!fic or tell you the title and summary for the story I would write)

1. genderswap
2. bodyswap
3. drunk!fic
4. huddling for warmth
5. pretending to be married
6. secretly a virgin
7. amnesia
8. cross-dressing
9. forced to share a bed
10. truth or dare
11. historical AU
12. accidental-baby-acquisition
13. apocalypse fic
14. telepathy
15. High School/College AU

I should probably warn you I'll just end up writing you snippets. My fandoms are all listed on my AO3 page.

edited to add: haven't seen yesterday's Doctor Who. So anything but that but things related to yesterday, I mean. Doctor Who in general is fine!

Fic(lets):

for philomytha, Aral and Simon and telepathy

for ladymercury_10, Amy/Rory, huddling for warmth

Comments

Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[raven]

I tried desperately to think of a sensible way of doing this, and couldn't. LET ME SING YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE.

gendha phool

Parampara was a small, distant, temperate world several wormhole jumps and then quite some distance away. Its ecosystems were tiny but complete, broad temperate zones bordered by a half-dozen glaciers, a thin strip of sub-tropical rainforest and a desert the size of a county. "Not quite as idyllic a paradise as Ylla," Gregor said, "but interesting. I think it'll do."

Simon was thinking that it was interesting, and also that Gregor was a good man and a good Emperor and deserved a quiet life of faithful service. "I think it will do very nicely, sire," he said, and Gregor smiled.

*

"There are a great many languages spoken there," Alys said, looking up from her viewer. "English and French, and Hindi, Urdu, Bengali and Tamil in the main, and but many regional languages, minor dialects and such. I'm learning some Hindi and Bengali, to begin."

"I'm sure I've read," Cordelia said, "that English is widely spoken by almost everyone."

"Yes," Alys said, "but it's not diplomatic, to come empty-handed."

Cordelia nodded. "Alys," she said after a moment, "you know, don't you, that I am the Vicereine of Sergyar in my own right? Not just because I'm…"

Alys inclined her head. "Gregor understands the value of complementary approaches to an ambassadorial post. And besides," she added, after a moment, "I'm not married, Cordelia."

"No," Cordelia agreed, hiding her smile. "Of course not."

*

Afterwards Simon dated the trouble to the particular moment when he picked a metal tumbler off a tray of its fellows and Shrimati Prathibha Devayani Chattopadhyaya said, beckoning back the server: "But you must take some for your wife, also."

Simon sipped the water and opened his mouth to say, she's not my – and then remembered the briefing material and his own first visit to this planet, forty-six years and half a lifetime ago, and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Dhokla?"

"Thank you," Simon said, and bit into it. The President smiled at him fondly and handed him another. On the maidaan the uniforms glinted in the sun, and the flowers rioted colour on every surface.

Alys said, "Thank you, love" – and drank deeply from the tiny cup, her only sign of discomfort under in the blistering noonday heat. The welcoming speeches continued.

*

"A letter from Alys," Cordelia said, looking up from her correspondence at the breakfast table. "It's going well, apparently. Simon has made some headway towards persuading the Paramparans that what they want to do is export sugar cane, communications technology and economists to Barrayar. And Alys has learned how to drape a sari. She says it's amazing, the intelligence you gain while doing it."

"Not that I'm surprised he's making a go of it, but I didn't think it was going to be quite in Simon's area of expertise." Miles was leaning back in his chair, looking reflective. "Sasha, love, drink your milk and don't bathe in it. You know, the planet doesn't have a local equivalent of ImpSec. Nor any police force of any kind."

"That's interesting," Cordelia said. "I suppose that's not because it's entirely law-abiding?"

"No." Miles paused. "Apparently they have a network of entirely civilian enforcement – aunts, grandmothers, cousins, family connections of all sorts."

"Nothing like Barrayar, then," Ekaterin said archly.

"Quite." Cordelia returned to her letter.

*

On the other hand, the trouble could have been said to have started after dark one quiet evening, at the moment an elderly woman with clinking red bangles and eyes as determinedly implacable as onyx appeared on the veranda of their little bungalow and said, "Simon Illyan?"

"Yes," Simon said, and Alys looked up. "That's me."

"Beta, you must come with me."

*

Alys stayed where she was. Out on the veranda in the soft, luxuriously warm night, the scent of night-blooming flowers drifting in from the garden, she swung slowly in the jhula, back and forth, waiting for Simon.

When he appeared, he was alone, walking slowly. There were crushed marigold petals in his hands and around his neck, bright yellow even in the dim light spilling out from the house.

"Alys," he said, coming to sit beside her so his weight stilled the movement for a moment. It began again slowly, picking up momentum as they came back into balance. "How would you feel about being married to me?"

Alys said, "Simon…"

"Because," Simon said, "I rather think our getting off this planet unscathed may depend on it."

*

Miles let out a breath and said, "Mother, please explain that again."

Cordelia put a hand to her mouth. "Apparently Simon undertook a ceremony, once, when he was nineteen. A betrothal ceremony."

Miles was still finding this hard going. "A non-legally binding ceremony, more then forty years ago?"

"At nineteen, he wouldn't even have reached his majority in some cultures," Ekaterin pointed out.

Cordelia's brow furrowed. "Apparently… these people take marriage very seriously."

Ekaterin didn't look any less confused. "But… why?"

*

"Why?" Alys asked.

The day had dawned somewhat cooler than the one before. Simon scrubbed at his eyes. "Alys, believe me, please, when I say I do not remember. But from knowing myself" – his eyes glittered – "| suspect it was because I thought she was a Cetagandan spy."

"Simon," Alys said, quietly, "is that the only reason you can possibly think of for having promised this woman that…" She trailed off.

Simon sighed. "Either I did it because I was a covert agent trying to get closer to a potential target, or because I was nineteen years old and a long way from home. I don't know which is worse."

Alys kissed him, to his clear surprise. They stood there looking at each other in the clear white light of the world's sun. "Neither of which," she said, "you could exactly help being at the time."

"Yes." Simon blinked. "Tell me, what do we do now?"

*

"Is it really that difficult, for them to pretend they're married?" Miles wondered aloud. "It's Simon and Aunt Alys. They're practically…"

He broke off, as Cordelia and Ekaterin glared at him.

*

They attended upon the family in the post-sunset hour. Shouts and giggles echoed down the stairwell; from the kitchen came the clanging sounds of bells. "Prasad," said the old lady, and Alys took it, right hand over left, and fed it to him.

It was, Simon thought dizzily, quite the most intimate thing that had passed between them in public on this world.

"Bol," said the old lady, when Simon had brushed the sugar from his lips.

"Madam," Simon said, with Alys's hand held tightly in his own, "I understand what I did. But I have since…" He gestured at Alys. "I am married according to the customs of my people."

The venerable old lady rocked forwards in her chair and frowned. "Children," she pronounced, "do not understand the gravity of these things."

"At the time I was a child," Simon said.

"No matter." The old lady glared. "We all are children when we marry, playing at grown-up families. Love comes at the end of a long life together."

"I understand," Alys said after a moment, "that marriage is taken very seriously here. So it is with us."

"Hmph." The old lady waved a hand in dismissal. "Enough. We will not hold you to your earlier promise."

They stole out, hand-in-hand, like children.

*

"One more thing, Simon," Alys said quietly, under a tree laden with blossom. "One thing I have to do before we go."

*

"Mein mafi mangne ke liye ayai hu," Alys said, but the woman waved her to a chair and said, in English, "Please don't."

"I'm sorry," Alys said, again. "Please forgive me."

"Don't." She was a beautiful woman, Alys was thinking: tall and elegant in a deep green sari, with combs in her hair and no trace of red in her parting. When she stood, they were at eye-level. "We have a saying: jo hona hain, woh hoga."

"Que sera sera," Alys said, with some humour.

"Yes." The woman smiled at her. "What is your name?"

"Alys Vorpatril."

"Well," she said, "I have led a long and happy life, Alys Vorpatril. A contented life. You can tell your friend I was never a spy. And my family that they are a meddlesome bunch of interfering busybodies."

"I will," Alys said, and took the proffered hand, warm in hers, and squeezed it tightly before letting go.

*

"Well, that is interesting." Cordelia looked up and smiled at Ekaterin. Miles was busy showing his youngest daughter how to assemble a foot-long jump ship in one corner and gave a grunt. "They're coming home."

"Gregor won't like it," Miles said, without looking up. "After all of that mess last year, the point was to get Simon somewhere away from here where he can cause trouble."

"Your hypocrisy astounds me, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan." Cordelia was smiling. "It's for a visit. The Paramparans want them back. As a permanent fixture. Well, well."

Ekaterin said, "It won't be entirely on Simon's account" – and Miles crushed a toy Necklin rod and said, intelligently, "Well."

*

The farewell speeches were quite as long as the welcoming ones.

"It's interesting," said Shrimati Prathibha Chattopadhyaya. "I had some enquiries made on the public information networks of your homeworld. I looked at registers of marriages and deaths, holos on the public nets, family data held by District courts. You have never walked around the fire, Simon Illyan."

"Saat phere," Alys said.

"Quite," said Chattopadhyaya. "You have walked them, Lady Alys. But not alongside this man."

Alys smiled. "Perhaps you'll excuse me, Madam President?" she said. "I have some goodbyes I wish to say before our departure from Parampara. Thank you again for your unstinting hospitality."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Alys," said Chattopadhyaya, sounding quite sincere. "I hope to renew our acquaintance soon."

Alys bowed and withdrew.

"Although I understand," Chattopadhyaya said thoughtfully after a moment, "that for some time you had the sort of political power to, ah, delete or remove that sort of information from public consumption, I could think of no reason for it. And… " She paused. "After all, she travelled here with you."

Simon said, "Alys and I worked together for thirty years. We" – and he was conscious of his own lack of self-consciousness – "ran the Barrayaran Imperial government. We… walked through flames, together."

She smiled and touched his arm. "Hurry back, Simon Illyan. Some time and you will become one of us."

*

Simon wasn't sure if it was a cultural characteristic that the colonists had carried with them or just a result of the obscene fecundity of their world, but the Paramparans used flowers for everything.

"That was quite something," he said, as the ship lifted into orbit. The planet below them was glitteringly, beautifully green; there were petals gathered in his hair and stuck to the soles of his feet. Shrimati Prathibha Chattopadhyaya had presented the flowers ceremonially as they took formal leave of their posts. Absently, he took the garland from around his own neck and placed it around Alys'.

Alys opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. "Thank you," she said, after a while.

When she came to brush her hair in the evening, petals rained down like a benediction.

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[hedda62]

Thank you. For the song of your people, and for the song of Simon and Alys. It's beautiful. *hugs it and puts flowers around its neck*

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[raven]

Thank you, I am very glad you liked it. I'm sure there were a half-dozen proper-SF plots I could've used for this trope, but I could not still the small voice that kept saying, "Send them to the Planet of the Indians!"

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[lemon_badgeress]

I am glad you did. It was gorgeous. I want more.

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[fitzcamel]

[Belatedly] I'm glad you did; this was gorgeous.

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[philomytha]

Oh, wonderful, wonderful! Oh, Simon, getting betrothed at the age of nineteen either because he was lost and lonely or she was a spy, and Alys, gaining intelligence while learning how to drape a sari, and the ending and oh yes, they have most certainly walked through flames together.

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[raven]

Thank you very much. :) I kind of worried it would be self-indulgent to send Simon and Alys to the Planet of the Indians, but I guess that's what the whole trope meme is for. :)

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[forthwritten]

INDIANS IN SPACE.

Re: Simon and Alys pretend to be married

[gavagai]

"No." Miles paused. "Apparently they have a network of entirely civilian enforcement – aunts, grandmothers, cousins, family connections of all sorts."

"Nothing like Barrayar, then," Ekaterin said archly.

HEARTZ.