Title: Youthful Indiscretions
Author: Auna
Rating: PG
Setting: Roughly 22 cycles after PKW
Disclaimer: Farscape is not mine, and I am not making any money off my little hobby.
Beta's: Once again, Word came through for me.
Author's note: One thing you need to keep in mind while reading anything I write, I firmly believe that no one is dead in the Farscape universe, unless you see them dispersed. And even then, you are allowed to doubt. But their survival isn't important to this little tale. Having said all that, please enjoy.
Author's Note 2: Uploading some of my old fic that never made it here. This was originally posted to farscapefluffybunnies and terrafirmascapers sometime before 2009.
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D'Argo, D'Argo and John descended the step of the transport pod into the warm sunshine expecting a heroes' welcome. But things never quite worked out the way a person expects them to, and they were greeted with icy stares and ominous looking, hand held alligators pointed at them.
D'Argo stepped forward, smiling rakishly and ignoring the blatant hostility. A lock of blackish-brown hair fell into his eyes as he opened his arms wide to the maroon skinned, black haired crowd, as if to gather them all into a group hug. His blue eyes scanned the mob, and finally found it's target.
"Beenacula!" D'Argo called, his voice warm and friendly, yet disappointed. He had to play this out perfectly. Something had drastically changed in the twenty four arns they'd set out. He could see out of the corner of his eye that his father and godfather were making moves to reach for their weapons, and he knew he was running out of time to save a bad situation. "Beenacula, what is going on here? My two fathers and I perform the one task your people need to survive, and we are greeted with animosity."
"Treacherous demons!" an old hag shouted, goading her compatriots into joining her insults.
"That's a bit harsh, don't you th..."
A regal looking gentleman stepped forward, holding up his arms and silencing the crowd. "We appreciate the sacrifice you have made for this people. We know that, were it not for you, our village would have been utterly destroyed by that meteor. For that fact alone, you are permitted to live."
The three men exchanged confused glances. D'Argo could tell that his father and D were itching to tell this man exactly what they thought, but that would be disastrous. For some reason not yet figured out, the young man was the only one the native people of Fhritsliki were willing to talk to. And the crew of Moya desperately needed the supplies these people could provide. Without them, they would starve soon.
D'Argo held out a placating hand in his father's direction, still looking at the Chieftain of the village. "We had an agreement," he reminded the gentleman.
"Which did not include you defiling our priestess!" the man shouted, losing his grip on his reigned in anger.
"What the HEZMANA did you do?" D'Argo hollered at the same moment John shouted "What the frell?"
"I didn't TOUCH your priestess!" the young man refuted, blasted with the anger of everyone surrounding him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Last evening, when you went on your evening vigil, did you not... pleasure yourself with one of our women?"
Holy crap. No. He hadn't done anything wrong! "I didn't recreate with her, if that's what you're asking. Technically." A torrent of Luxan swear words poured forth from both John and D, only half of which he understood. "I didn't know she was a priestess! I wouldn't have touched her!"
Guilt, embarrassment and shame washed over him. He'd jeopardized the entire crew because he had lost all coherent thought when he'd stumbled across the beautiful young woman picking flowers in the woods near the stream. His heart still raced when her face danced through his mind. She had been exquisite.
"But you did touch her. She is defiled. You will leave immediately."
"Wait," D'Argo tried, thinking of his little sister onboard Moya at that moment, waiting for food. "I'm the one who screwed up," he told the crowd. "Punish me. But let my people have the supplies they need."
The crowd began to murmur in surprise. D'Argo knew that his father and D would try to stop him, if for anything to save themselves the wrath of Aeryn when they returned without her son. But he was an adult. He'd put the lives of his family on the line, and he would stand up to the occasion.
Beenucula raised one eyebrow, studying him intently. "That is a noble offer," he observed.
D'Argo simply shrugged. "Is it a deal?"
There was a pause as the man considered the idea. At last, he drew in a slight breath and pronounced his verdict. "Yes."
"No," John and D stated at the same time, pulling out their weapons.
"Dad, D'Argo, don't!" he argued. "Put them away!" They were outnumbered twenty to one, but young man had no doubt his father and the Luxan would fight it out anyway.
"We're not leaving you behind," John told his son. "You're a pain in the ass, but you come in useful occasionally."
"No," the maroon man agreed. "You will not be leaving him behind. You will take him with you."
Three sets of confused eyes turned to the chieftain. "I thought you were going to sentence me," young D'Argo stated.
"I have." He paused for dramatic effect, with sorrow in his eyes. "Tonight, at midnight, you will wed Vlacismini. And then you will take her with you, never to return."
His heart stopped. This was too good to be true. He had to clarify. "Is Vlacismini the priestess?"
Beenucula bowed his head once, acknowledging the accuracy of the assumption, and D'Argo's heart went into overtime. He wanted to dance. He wanted to sing. He wanted to smack his father and D on the back and shake hands. But he fixed a look of penitent sorrow on his face and turned to the crowd. "If I must. It is only proper and right that I pay for my thoughtless actions." And then, because he couldn't help himself... "Can my mother come to watch?"
Midnight. How long away was that?