31days is a livejournal fic community where each day in August (and now September) has a theme, and the fic written for a particular theme is to be uploaded on that day. I was doing this with a friend, but I got waylaid by art school and she got waylaid by packing for university, so in the end we didn't get through the month.
An Anatoly Gentleman in Dusith is actually three separate fics on a single thread. They do not form a continuous story, and have been uploaded in order of when they were written. In case there's anything you don't want to see, I've written a short summary to head each 'chapter'. The title of each fic is the stipulated theme, and is not my own.
I personally feel that Vincent would be very good for Sophia. I think she deserves better than Alex, who couldn't love her, probably made her very miserable, and then up and died on her.
For ayatsujik, with love.
In this fic Vincent ponders the merits, or lack thereof, of courtly love.
A School of Morality
Finished 31 July 2005
Vincent has always held that there are rules to be adhered to, when one is courting. Always to be a gentleman, never to appear when – or where – one isn't wanted, while making it very clear that one is deliberately being considerate in doing this. It would be a waste, after all, if the lady in question did not notice.
And, very importantly, to pine meanwhile.
Vincent is proving to be very good at this last one. Sophia's loaned the Urbanus to Dusith's mercantile guilds as a gesture of friendliness until they can afford their own cargo ships, and a captain belongs with his ship. Vincent makes frequent trips between Anatoly and Dusith, staying in Dusith between flights. He visits Sophia whenever he can, and writes every two weeks when he can't, accosting messenger Vanship pilots to bring his letters to the Queen.
At first Sophia wrote mostly of Anatoly, and state affairs. Vincent spent some time wondering how impertinent he was allowed to be, and eventually wrote that he was not worthy of getting state reports directly from the Queen; perhaps Sophia Forrester, and not the Queen of Anatoly, should be answering his letters.
Vincent writes of how different things are in Dusith, how puzzled they are by him and his Anatoly chivalry. They ask, politely, whether all Anatoly men are like him, with an expression of morbid fascination. Dusith is a practical country; the old, unfriendly climate – even more unfriendly than Anatoly's – demanded it. Vincent Arthai, with his delicate, roundabout tactics, makes no sense to them.
Vincent sends flowers to Sophia on his brief flight stops in Anatoly, and tries not to think about his bouquets being picked apart for poisoned needles on the way in. On Alex's death anniversary he sends lilies by Vanship from Dusith, and politely does not ask the questions he really wants answered: has it been long enough, is it all right now, is there space in your heart for someone else? For example, me?
But it would be tactless, against the rules, wrong. So Vincent pines quietly instead, and continues writing his letters. No pressure, no pushing, and plenty of devotion.
After about three years of this, though, he decides that enough is enough. Being a ship captain is not all it's cracked up to be. He's changed his crew a couple of times; they have workers' unions that insist on letting them go home. Captains, however, are apparently supposed to take care of themselves. It doesn't seem fair to Vincent, who is beginning to be vaguely worried that Sophia means to keep him in Dusith for the rest of his life.
Dear Sophia, he finally writes, carefully, knowing that he is deserting his pride but trying nonetheless to salvage what he can. I do not presume to question your actions, but if Dusith is still unable to afford the new cargo ships I would advise you to investigate for corruption.
Vincent pauses, frowns, and then continues. I consider it deeply unfair that my crewmen have more rights than their captain. Please look into the matter. I know that a captain is married to his ship, but I cherish the hope that this is a figurative statement. Yours, sincerely, Vincent.
He had hoped for greater subtlety than that. But he's learnt pragmatism from the Dusith, and when dignity is competing with the prospect of dying unloved in a foreign land, Vincent reckons he can live with a little less dignity.
And, two weeks later, Vincent receives official notice to return to Anatoly.
Sophia is not a foolish person; she knows that this trip home will mean more than what it seems, and she knows how painful it is to be the victim of futile hope. Vincent smiles as he settles the paperwork. Perhaps he stands a chance.
Perhaps this Dusith frankness has something going for it, after all.