Note: Deryn is incorrect about the precise legal definition of a certain word. (To answer her question – oh, yes, it can be.) But it's not as funny when it's accurate. :D
Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's reviewed!
Edit: The fabulous Irrel has made some absolutely wonderful, hilarious, amazing fanart for this story, for which I can never express enough gratitude and awe. The link's in my profile - read and then go look, go look!
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Volger is not happy.
Nothing has gone according to his meticulously-laid plans since Prince Aleksandar's group arrived at the Swiss castle, but as all of that disruption has been due to the prince himself, Volger has lacked a suitable outlet for his frustration.
One can hardly, after all, grab the heir to the Imperial throne of Austria-Hungary and shake him until some sense rattles loose.
Although one occasionally wants to. Very, very badly.
Constantinople had been a poor second choice to their refuge in the Alps, but Volger had been willing to adjust; now, another madcap adventure later, even that option is gone, and they're back on the Darwinists' whale-ship, sailing off on still yet another absolutely inappropriate expedition. The prince's fault, again.
…the prince who has recently developed the inexplicable habit of disappearing for considerable stretches of time. Volger does not like mysteries any more than he enjoys having his plans upset. Alek is not at hand, so Volger goes looking for him.
Shortly into his search of the Leviathan he thinks to check the midshipmen's cabins. Midshipman Sharp is constantly in the thick of trouble and danger, and – if Switzerland and Constantinople are to be the standards one judges by – happily pulls Alek in alongside him as well.
Volger approaches the cabin and opens the door soundlessly, as is his habit, and thus he has no one to blame but himself.
"Gott im Himmel," he swears, taking a fractional step backwards.
The boys come apart, eyes wide in shock and horror, and in the half second before the inevitable protests begin, Volger considers the situation and its ramifications.
It's a surprise, yes. Not an apocalypse, however. Goodness knows Alek won't be the first monarch to prefer the company of men, and he certainly won't be the last. This is unfortunate, but can be managed.
"It's not what you think," Alek says. He says this despite mussed hair, a half-untucked shirt, a flushed face, and one hand still on Dylan's arm. Dylan, whose own clothes are in disorder and whose blue eyes have gone almost black, his pupils are dilated so widely.
Volger doesn't laugh. Instead, he closes the door (very firmly) behind him. And manages.
"I believe that King George frowns on this sort of behavior amongst his soldiers," he says to Dylan.
"It's not-" Alek begins again, only to be cut off by Dylan giving his arm a tug. They exchange a look that Volger can't quite decipher.
"Aye," the other boy says boldly, albeit in a slightly higher voice than normal, "but it's not buggery if one of us is a girl, is it?"
It could merely be a feint, but Volger knows it's the truth even as the words are still being spoken. A thousand details snap into perfect clarity, and he curses himself for not noticing.
He says nothing, reworking plans to accommodate this new twist. Alek rushes into the gap, finger-combing his hair back into order and admitting, "I found out in Constantinople."
The expression on the prince's face is familiar, but for the moment, Volger can't place it.
"I see," Volger says. He looks at the girl he mistook for a boy (that error is going to gnaw at him for the rest of his life) and waits for someone to remember their manners.
"It's Deryn," she says.
Volger sketches half a bow in the tiny cabin. He doesn't bother to hide the sardonic overtones to the gesture, or to his next words. "Miss Sharp. I can only assume your plan was to explain your appearance, in nine months' time, as the result of gluttony and poor fitness?"
She draws back as if he's slapped her. Since her back was already to the cabin wall (being pressed there, as Volger entered, by a certain other party), she can't go far. "Not barking likely," she says hotly. "I'm not daft!"
"We weren't going to do that," Alek says, aghast where Deryn is indignant.
"No," Volger agrees. "You were going to shake hands and walk away just as I came in."
He has them there. Both children have the grace to look embarrassed, and Deryn self-consciously tugs down her shirttails, retucking them and nudging Alek, who hastily turns away to put his own belt and trousers to rights.
Volger is suddenly glad he walked in precisely when he did, and no later. There are things one does not want to discover about one's ward in quite that way – or any way.
"It's not a crime," Deryn says – but small and quiet now. Alek takes her hand, and Volger suddenly recognizes where he's seen that expression before: the Archduke used to look exactly like that when he talked about Sophie.
Volger sends up a prayer to be saved from the wayward hearts and stubborn minds of all Hapsburg princes.
"It isn't," Volger says, although he's fairly sure it is. "It's merely, as you would say, barking daft, for all of the obvious reasons and many more obscure ones. I am disappointed in you, Aleksander. I had thought you possessed somewhat more intelligence than this."
The barb doesn't sting Alek, but rather Deryn, who bristles at the words until the prince squeezes her hand. "You're right," Alek says. "This was… ill-considered."
"I thought it was a good idea," Deryn says, just barely audible. Alek tries not to smile; a flicker of one escapes, earning Volger's further displeasure. Alek hardly needs assistance with insubordination.
"Decidedly not, young lady," Volger says curtly. "Although I use the term loosely. I'd thank you to stop getting the prince into troublesome situations. It's becoming tedious, thinking up new explanations for your lunacy."
Alek asks, looking hopeful, "You're not going to tell anyone?"
Volger chooses to smile. It unsettles them, and that's the intended effect. "Not at this time," he says. "But I believe there will be no more unsupervised visits to one another's cabins. I'm sure that we can have the captain rearrange watch schedules to make such incidents impossible. In the meantime, Your Highness, I'll stand as chaperone."
Two unhappy faces greet that pronouncement.
Volger thinks of the Archduke and Sophie, and what it's like to be sixteen and in love, and, despite himself, calculates that he can allow a small charity.
"Beginning in five minutes," he adds, then bows correctly to them both and exits, securing the door behind him.
God in Heaven, indeed.
