Note: The original (albeit heavily edited) request from Beboots: How about something [in the "parallel universe"] universe …. in which Mistress!Deryn doesn't tolerate disrespect from someone?
Ha ha ha! Little Did You Know I had already planned for that very thing. :D
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Maybe our paths are not supposed to cross twice
- from "Destiny Rules" by Fleetwood Mac
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"I don't know why you go to those things," Jaspert's wife says, a touch accusingly, as Deryn pauses to take a drink of coffee.
Deryn makes a face. She's too tired and she's got too much to do today to tolerate Emma's blether. In fact, she ought to be out at Wormwood Scrubs already, readying the balloon, instead of recounting last night's party to her brother over a much-too-early breakfast. "I went because I was invited."
"No you weren't," Jaspert says around a mouthful of food. He's amused, not reproving. "You snuck in with one of those suffragettes."
"She invited me, then. And she was invited - so there." Deryn takes another slurp of coffee, wondering how much she'll have to drink before she stops feeling as though she's been keelhauled. "Anyway, it wasn't half bad. There was a Clanker bloke there who talked to me like I might have a brain, and not just two legs to spread."
Emma pushes back her chair and sweeps out of the room with all the righteous indignation she can muster. Deryn doesn't bother watching her go; it's an old performance at this point.
But Jaspert is another matter. "You could watch your bloody mouth!" he says in a low, aggravated whisper, leaning forward over the table.
She copies the posture and the tone. "You're the one who taught me how to swear!"
"But not around Emma! Barking hell, d'you know how hard I had to work, convincing her to let my disreputable little sister live here?"
"You're a hypocrite and a coward, Jaspert Sharp," she says, stung by the bit about disreputable. Well, so she is; but that doesn't mean she wants to hear her brother say it.
"Aye, and I'm in love with my wife and want her happy." Jaspert stands and points at her, warning, "Mind your manners, Deryn, or you'll be home again with Ma."
He leaves to go placate Emma; Deryn sticks her tongue out at his back. She finishes her coffee and rinses the cup, then goes in search of her heavy airman's jacket. She hadn't been lying when she told Alek it got cold aloft, even now in the spring.
Alek. She never would've offered to take him up if it hadn't been for the look of sadness that hung around him. Sadness and loneliness, for all that he's obviously barking rich. It's daft of her – she just spent four years fighting Clankers, after all – but she can't help feeling sorry for him.
And liking him. No one ever takes her seriously anymore, not even the suffragettes. They only want to use her for their cause; everyone else just points and whispers, like she's some sort of defective beastie. But Alek took her seriously.
And he was pure dead handsome, too.
She catches herself smiling like a perfect looby and shakes her head.
The jacket is right where it oughtn't to be, hanging in the cloakroom, and as she's dusting off the fabricated leather, the doorbell chimes.
"Get that!" Jaspert shouts from elsewhere.
Deryn glares at nothing, but gets the door. A man in some sort of uniform is standing on the other side, more shadow than not in the weak light. At first she takes him for a policeman, but then she realizes his insignia are military: not Air Service, though.
"Good morning, sir. I have a message for a Miss Sharp," the man says, and Deryn suddenly remembers she's wearing her trousers.
"Aye, that's me," she says, as girlishly as possible.
The soldier looks bewildered, then repulsed, but eventually hands over an envelope, adding, "I'm to wait for a reply."
She lets him in, but no farther than it takes to shut the door again. Then she tears the envelope open and, full of curiosity, reads the note inside.
Miss Sharp, it begins, handwriting clear and firm and graceful. Somehow she knows it's from Alek before she goes any farther.
Miss Sharp,
An urgent matter has been brought to my attention, and I must return to Vienna immediately to see it resolved. I deeply regret any inconvenience that this may cause to you; I assure you that I was quite looking forward to our expedition and would not have missed it for anything less than this current difficulty.
Yours, etc.
Alek
"Who are you? What's that?" Jaspert asks, making her start. He plucks the message out of her hands while its deliverer explains himself. Jaspert waves the man to silence and reads, brow furrowed in concentration. "What the bloody hell does he mean, 'our expedition'? Deryn!"
"That's none of your concern," she snaps, face burning, making a grab for the paper and missing.
"It is while you're living here!" Still holding the message out of her reach, her brother turns to the soldier and demands, "Who sent this?"
The soldier stops just short of a derisive sniff. "His Majesty the Emperor of Austria-Hungary."
Jaspert gapes. Deryn is equally poleaxed, but has the presence of mind to snatch the message back while she can. She stuffs it into her shirt pocket quickly, the better to keep it away from her brother.
Why she wants to keep it, she has no idea - it's bad news, presented in as stilted a manner as could be. Perhaps it's because it's from a barking emperor.
…who is handsome, and lonely, and sad.
Who took her seriously.
Who is going home to Vienna.
Today.
"Is – has he gone yet?" she asks the soldier.
This time he doesn't bother to hide the sniff. "That's hardly your affair, miss."
It's the condescending "miss" that does it. Deryn sees red.
"Aye, it is, you stuck-up bag of clart!" she says, advancing on the man and doing her best impression of an angry Mr. Rigby. "And you'll remember I'm friends with Alek, so take that tone with me, lad, and I'll have you tossed out on your bum before lunch today!"
The last was more her ma than the bosun, but the effect is the same. The soldier blanches and gives her a shallow bow. Suddenly he can't talk fast enough: "I beg your pardon, ma'am, please excuse me. The emperor is leaving from Hyde Park in an hour or so. Just as soon as the King's own airbeast arrives. Ma'am."
Deryn calculates hurriedly. Hyde Park is hard on Buckingham Palace – of course that's where Alek would be staying (barking spiders, an emperor!) – and she can get there in time, if she leaves right away. "Jaspert," she says, turning to her brother.
"Right, right," he says, sighing, holding up a hand. "But I'm going with you. Ma will kill us both if I don't."
Jaspert goes off to inform Emma, and Deryn wonders if she should swap her trousers for a dress… but no. There's no time, and besides, she hates wearing dresses.
Her blood is singing. At last: an urgent matter of her own.
Blisters, but she's tired of being useless, tired of having no purpose. Sneaking about, talking to emperors – this'll be the most fun she's had since the war ended. She'll just have to make certain she doesn't get shot by the royal guards.
"Ma'am," the soldier says, still mindful of her ire, "what reply am I to give the emperor?"
"Nothing," Deryn says, grinning fierce. "I'll tell him myself."
