"Consequences" Author: слон де По Там Rating: gen. Writen for the Winterfair Open Exchange on the prompt: " What if Taura hadn't rescued Miles's wedding?". Fanart is here. Translated from Russian ("Последствия") by Tel

The coffin was carried in silence.

Miles remembered his grandfather's funeral, all pompous solemnity. That had been an event of national importance, with three days of ceremonies, three days of powerful people constantly thronging to their house. And that had been fine then, incredibly sad and yet proper. His grandfather was old, and had fully lived his life. Piotr Vorkosigan was a man of his era, and that era accompanied him on his last journey. No tears, just eulogies of his greatness.

But now things were different. Even the weather, sedate and sad then, was riotous now. The thick snow and piercing wind hadn't stopped for three days straight. It was impossible to see anything past more than ten meters away. His armsmen were running their legs off trying to provide security.

Who needs security now? Miles mentally railed at himself again and again. All his anger and almost manic frustration had been spent in the first few days after the... tragedy. After the capture of the villains, all of his seemingly endless and inexhaustible energy sunk into oblivion, to be replaced by complete apathy and indifference. Ekaterin has been a beacon of light in his life. In so little time she had become everything for him, and then everything had been taken away. His enemies had never been lenient to him and he'd never expected them to be. He'd been too careless. It had been the biggest mistake of his life.

Had he once reproached himself for jumping off that wall? It all seemed so silly now.

He closed his eyes and tried to to turn away from what was happening, but even so he still saw in his mind's eye the frozen earth falling on the coffin, hitting with a thud. True, his grandfather had been buried the same way, but it had not been so painful then, like iron bands of doom tightening around his chest.

His father and mother stood nearby. Miles felt their eyes on him throughout the ceremony. Perhaps they thought they were supporting him by being them, but they were only making it worse. On the way back from the cemetary, he carefully kept away from them. It was easy to lose them in the huge throng of people that had come to Vorkosigan Surleau - family, good friends, acquaintances, politicians, their wives, and other curious onlookers. It made Miles tremble inwardly with rage - what did they all want here? A pack of hypocrites, most of them caring more about maintaining their relationship with the influential Vorkosigans than the death of poor, barely noble Ekaterin.

Not wanting to watch the farce anymore, Miles turned and left the hall where the reception was taking place. He didn't care that everyone was watching him - his parents with sympathy, Ekaterin's relatives with hatred, others with indifference. The corridor was empty, and the windows reflected his pale face against the darkness. He had never been a handsome man, and after this stroke of fate he looked more like some disgusting freak. Grief furrowed his face, his eyes were sunken from fatigue and lack of sleep, his shoulders hunched forward, and his gait was slow and shuffling as he walked.

"Satisfied?" From a small niche in the wall a tall man stepped into his path.

Miles wasn't even startled and didn't look up. He immediately recognized Ekaterin's brother Will. All the Vorvaynes blamed Miles for her death, and no argument could convince them otherwise. They weren't alone, Miles knew his "good luck" had killed his bride. And no argument could convince him otherwise.

"I have nothing to say to you," Miles replied in a hoarse voice.

"Nothing? Nothing, you say?!" Will furiously struck at Miles, and he gladly would have taken the blow, but unfortunately for both of them this time his armsmen weren't sleeping. They dragged away his assailant.

He desperately clutched his head. Unable to express his pain, he abruptly jumped up and ran down the corridor to the shadowed exit, and then to the lightflyer bay. Not paying attention to the shouts behind him, he climbed into the lightflyer and locked the door. Here he couldn't hurt anyone else. He started the lightflyer, guided it out of the hangar and into the air, and mindlessly chose a course for the Dendarii Gorge.

The twilight sky darkened outside of the lightflyer windows, and his loneliness started to overcome him. Despair seized him, just like it had the previous evening, and just as it would tomorrow. This was a cross he'd have to bear for many years to come...

A furious howl burst from Miles's throat, and he in a burst of feverish energy he seized the lightflyer controls.

And then his eyes rolled back and his arms fell away from the console. His head lolled onto his right shoulder, and his teeth bared in a weird grimace. As his body shuddered in convulsions the lightflyer tilted towards the ground...

***

Miles opened his eyes in horror. His heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, and visions of his lightflyer coming to pieces around him danced in his head. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, trying to center himself. The room was quiet. The light of a streetlamp, coming through the gap in the curtains, revealed the silhouettes of furnishings and let him make out the clear profile of the woman lying next to him in bed. Her breathing, unlike his own, was measured and calm.

Miles clutched his wife close to him, trying to absorb from her the confidence and composure he badly needed right now. Waking up, Ekaterin covered his hand with hers. Emboldened, he shifted over on the bed, settling himself comfortably against her.

"Awake again?" she whispered sleepily, stroking her husband's palm.

"A dream. I was just dreaming." he whispered back. "The same nightmare."

"Oh Miles. Maybe it's time to try to forget that after so many years. We've escaped death so many times since, and in comparison that was hardly more than an unfortunate misunderstanding."

"I don't know why those events still haunt me." Miles rubbed his forehead, trying to drive unhappy thoughts out of his head. "Probably the thought that I could have lost you before you became mine." He smiled in a horrible attempt to reduce it all to a joke, but Ekaterin answered him with a quiet chuckle.

"I've told you this before, but I'll say it again. The Vorkosigan clan is full of greatness, and it swallows you whole. You swallowed me. Now I too am Vorkosigan, fully capable of defending not just you and me, but our family as well."

Miles exhaled heavily and pulled Ekaterin to him. His wife, confident in herself and in him, lay beside him. He let the horrible nightmare fade, reminding himself that he wasn't all-powerful, but life was still good.