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Improvisation - Philomytha - Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold [Archive of Our Own]
For Lady Alys, it's a way to get rid of unwanted suitors. For Captain Illyan, it's a way to reduce the likelihood of usurpation plots. If there's anything more to it, neither of them have any intention of saying so.
fanfic  fandom:vorkosigan  theme:pretend.relationship  theme:competence  het  words:2k-5k 
december 2018 by alegria
[Vorkosigan] Improvisation by Philomytha
For Lady Alys, it's a way to get rid of unwanted suitors. For Captain Illyan, it's a way to reduce the likelihood of usurpation plots. If there's anything more to it, neither of them have any intention of saying so.
fandom:vorkosigan  pairing:simon/alys  !_sweet  author:philomytha  het  via:sineala 
november 2018 by Harpijka
Philomytha: Aral Vorkosgian's Dog
Vorkosigan stared straight at the Prince. "I have always believed that however little you may have wished for one, once you have a dog, he's your responsibility."

A+  fic  AO3  fandom:vorkosigan  genre:missing.moment  length:50k+ 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
miss_lanyon: Burn the Topless Towers
Your father-in-law is scowling at you as you pour tea for him. "I don't like your brother," he says. Ges has just left; Count Vorkosigan glares at the place where he'd been sitting, as though his gaze could retroactively burn a hole through your brother's heart. You do not tell him that your brother does not have one.

"That's all right," you say. "I don't like your son, just now."

His eyes widen in shock, and you give him the tea. "Now, missy -- " he starts, but you stare him into silence. Whatever he was going to say, whatever admonishment or disparagement or command, dissolves. "He's a good man," he says instead, sipping his tea.

"Certainly," you agree. Aral *is* a good man. He's also a bad husband. From the look on his face, Piotr knows it. You pass him a plate of little sandwiches made with roast beef and cress and the mustard he likes.

"Why do you have him here, anyway? I don't think you like your brother, either." You blink. Is he seriously implying that *you* are the reason your brother treats Vorkosigan House as his own? Why yes, yes he is.

"He's my brother," you say. "Aral was friends with him before we married, and they are still friends, of course." You can be proud of yourself. Your tone doesn't change at all. Piotr flinches.

"Yes, well." He directs his attention to the sandwiches, and then manages a rueful smile. "I thought -- you are so beautiful," he says, wistfully, "I thought maybe he would notice." There had been a lot of marriage offers, once you came of age.

"Da," you say, impulsively. He's insisted that you call him that, ever since you married his son, less than a year ago: *Count Vorkosigan* is too formal, he sees you as a daughter, etc. etc., but it's been difficult to do. Especially now that you are moving to your own apartment. He looks at you warily; you take his hand. "He noticed. We'll all muddle through," you say. "You'll see." His face softens and warms in a smile. You hope you are right.
fic  fandom:vorkosigan  AO3  length:1000+  genre:missing.moment 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
a_t_rain: A Bit Too Much Good Work
“These are so soft,” she remarked. “What are they filled with?”


“Like ... feathers? From birds?”

“Yes. Geese, I think.” He supposed there was no chance they were vat-grown geese, and hoped Rish wouldn’t ask awkward questions about that.

“Huh. That’s very ... quaint.” She was obviously having a little difficulty processing the concept, and he tried not to be too obviously amused. “I like the sheets, too. They’re cool. What are they made of?”

“Linen. Most people buy synthetics, but I think it’s worth having good-quality sheets.” He felt pleased to have met someone else who noticed and cared about fabric. Most people, even very nice people like Alain, tended to tease him for being fussy – although Alain had mostly stopped after By told him a few stories about growing up with a father who insisted on buying the cheapest version of everything.

“Where does that come from?”

“From a plant.”

“You’re having me on. A plant that grows sheets?”

“Not exactly. They make fiber from it, and then ... do something. I’m not sure exactly how.” (This was pretty much the limit of his agricultural knowledge, so he couldn’t really blame Rish for continuing to look skeptical.) “Don’t they grow or raise anything on Jackson’s Whole?”

“... Me?”


“One at a time, please. And, Vorrutyer, I don’t recall telling you to investigate any school bomb threats.”

“We weren’t investigating, we were just talking about them. His daughters weren’t in school, so I asked why ...”

By the time they had finished explaining, McSorley was grinning broadly. “I told the guards it jolly well ought to be an ImpSec matter,” he said. “I think I can make a case for it now.”

This seemed, to Byerly, to be a propitious moment to make his second pitch for hiring Rish as an irregular. Alain had not only come up with a list of non-Barrayaran subjects who had been employed in Domestic Affairs, but detailed information about when, why, and what sorts of arguments had been used to justify their employment. One of Alain’s many sterling qualities was the way he always came up with the information you needed before you thought to ask for it.

McSorley, however, remained obdurate. “None of these people were surveillance subjects when they were hired. Given the woman’s particular circumstances, it would be completely out of order.”

“Just as a matter of interest, did you get permission to bring your children to work yesterday?”

“Well, no, but they’re short, so the security scanner doesn’t pick them up – and they know not to talk about anything they see or hear – Vorrutyer, are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Of course not!” said Byerly, although he would have tried blackmailing McSorley in a heartbeat if he’d thought it would work. “I was just pointing out that everyone bends regs now and again.”

“Regulations that were made, in this case, decades ago, when this agency was run by privileged Vor twits with dozens of servants and wives who didn’t work. What are ordinary people expected to do with their children?”

McSorley glared vaguely in the direction of his Vorish subordinate, as if suspecting him of having (perhaps stashed away in an attic somewhere?) a wife who didn’t work. Byerly caught Alain’s eyes, which were bright with barely-repressed laughter.

None of the arguments By could muster, however, seemed to sway McSorley, and he eventually had to concede defeat.

“See you,” said Alain cheerfully, as he went back to the Records Office. “Give my regards to your dozens of servants.”

“Don’t forget my wife-who-doesn’t-work.”

“Her, too.”


“What kinds of things did I recite, can you remember?”

“Something about anal sex and bondage and some sort of dominance play. Which I didn’t really think you were into, but, you know, we could try...”

“What? In Shakespeare?”

“Well, something about somebody wearing out his master’s ass, anyway.”

He’d played Iago once, at school, so it took only a moment to place the phrase. “You shall mark many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, that doting on his own obsequious bondage, wears out his time, much like his master’s ass – Was that it?”

“Yes! And then there was something about ‘I am not what I am’.”

“Oh ... fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I gave them that whole speech?”

“Yes. What’s the matter?” He didn’t answer for a moment, and Rish looked him over, wide-eyed. “It ... isn’t about sex, isn’t it?”

“No. It really isn’t anything to do with sex. And considering my particular circumstances, it was ... pretty much a full confession. One which I can only hope Vorlynn was too stupid to figure out. Dear God, what else did I say?”

“Nothing you shouldn’t. You just said you knew everyone there.”

“I know you all, and will awhile uphold the unyoked humor of your idleness – Like that?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Shit. That ... isn’t good, but I guess it’s not as bad as the other one. What else?”

“Something about ‘mine be thy love’.”

“‘And thy love’s use their treasure’?”

“Yeah. That.”

“That one’s all right. That one really is about sex.” It was also, of course, for Alain. What did it say about his life, he wondered, that having accidentally told his girlfriend that he’d been in love with his best friend for years was the least of his worries?

“I’m not sure I get this Shakespeare stuff. Whenever it sounds like it’s about sex, it isn’t, and whenever it doesn’t ... it is?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” A sudden, possibly-brilliant thought occurred to him. “So, um ... what did everyone else say?”

“Niko Vorprzhevalsky babbled a lot about horses...”

“Niko always babbles a lot about horses, even when he’s stone cold sober. It’s his one subject.”

“... And Rudy Fairchild said ‘to be or not to be.’ I’ve heard that one before, it’s famous, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I expect that’s the beginning and end of Rudy Fairchild’s Shakespeare repertoire.”

“And then Oliver said something about making his fool his purse.”

That caught Byerly’s interest. “Ooh. More Othello. What are the odds of two Iagos at the same party? Did he say anything else?”

“Something about honesty being a fool and trusting his sworn brother, and how he needed a good nose.”

“A good nose?”

“To smell out work for the other senses. I liked that one, it made sense to me. And he said it was time for the unjust man to thrive.”

None of this was ringing any bells, but maybe he’d be able to find it if he looked it up. “What else?”

“That ex-girlfriend of yours who owns the antique shop – Sylvie – said something about the flint cutting her feet, and people laughing at her, and the axe of death.”

“Axe of death?” That sounded, if possible, even less familiar; but he’d expect Sylvie to know her obscure Shakespeare. The evening was coming back to him, in flashes. She’d been telling someone to shut himself in his closet and hide from his enemies, someone called Gloucester ... He didn’t think it was the same Gloucester as in King Lear. Maybe one of the history plays?

“Somebody I didn’t know said something about whether he’d eaten the insane root ...”

“Macbeth. Probably a good question to ask if someone’s just forced fast-penta onto you.”

“... And Evon Margraves kept talking about how he was a lord, and his name wasn’t Christopher somebody-or-other.”

That was a puzzle. Byerly couldn’t think of any Christophers in Shakespeare, off the top of his head. Obviously, there were a lot of lords-who-weren’t-named-Christopher, but he couldn’t recall any of them feeling the need to say his name wasn’t Christopher. Maybe it was something from the Barrayaran Apocrypha, which still got taught in prole schools sometimes? No, Evon Margraves had a degree in Old Earth cultures, and he’d spent a year in London; he’d be the last person to make that mistake.

“I think we’re going to need to visit Lady Alys. She might recognize some of the ones I don’t.” He hoped he wouldn’t run into Simon Illyan there, because he suspected Illyan would be scathing when he heard the story; but it was better than facing McSorley without a really full report. “One more question before we go. I give you my word that I won’t put you on record as my source for this, and it wouldn’t get you in trouble in any case since you didn’t have any left when you arrived on Komarr ... but where did you and Tej get your supply of fast-penta?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, wild-caught? What are you going to trade me for it?”

“... The best oral sex of your life?”

“You’ve been giving that away for free. No trade.”

“Well, like Mick Vormeitner says, you always get people hooked by offering them a sample...”
fic  fandom:vorkosigan  AO3  pairing:byerly/rish  genre:missing.moment  A+  length:100k+ 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
linman: Anamnesis
“And so what happened after you were coded in to the house?” Simon leaned back in his chair and stared over his folded arms at his informant.

Duv Galeni shifted and gave a half-suppressed sigh. “We went looking for him. It took a while. It’s a damned big place.”

“He wasn’t in his room?” Simon said blandly.

“No, that was the first place Ivan—Captain Vorpatril—looked. Then we looked in several other places he thought he would be. We wound up having to take it room by room. Turned out he was in a tiny room on the fourth floor.”

Galeni stopped, looking uncomfortable. Simon didn’t blame him; he felt uncomfortable himself. He had deliberately set the feeling on a lower register of his attention for this interview. Simon proceeded, quietly and gently.

“What state was he in when you found him?”

“Bad,” Galeni said flatly. “Unresponsive.”


“We thought so at first, but the bottle was still sealed. He was catatonic.”

Simon winced inwardly. He’d dealt with a catatonic Miles before. Still, it wasn’t the worst scenario. Captain Galeni’s preface to this interview had been to assure him of that.

“There was his fancy Vor knife sitting on the table, too,” Galeni went on. (Simon knew that knife: just short of the worst scenario, then.)

“Well…in case it needs saying…don’t ever forswear yourself on my account.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Nor you either.”


The silence that followed sealed them together, her hand and his over his heart.

After a while, she said: “I suppose someone could deceive one of us….”

“We’d better keep one another well briefed, then,” Simon said.

He felt more than heard her chuckle. “Oh, Simon,” she said on an affectionate sigh.

He gathered up her hand under his, and her thumb stroked his knuckles gently. “And I think it’d be just as difficult for someone to lie to me now as before. One never knows what I might forget,” he said with a quiet laugh.

“I think we need not be afraid,” she said.

“No, only circumspect.”

“You can take the boy out of ImpSec….”

“Speaking of which,” he said, “I’m going to have to find a new flat. I can’t keep living at ImpSec HQ.”

“Oh, but I was so looking forward to visiting you there,” she said, and they both snickered.
fandom:vorkosigan  fic  AO3  genre:missing.moment  length:20k+ 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
a_t_rain: Acknowledged Bastards
“You had better go to him,” said Szabo after a moment. “His parents don’t, ah, seem to be in the proper frame of mind to look after him.”

This was an understatement. Her aunt and uncle had been closeted together in one of the guest bedrooms of the District house for the last hour, their usual chilly politeness to one another having erupted into a storm of recriminations. The gardener had taken Julia, their younger child, outside to play. But since the doctor had left, no one had stayed with By.

“It isn’t fair, Szabo. Why couldn’t it have been Richars? Or Yves?”

“We don’t know that it isn’t,” Szabo pointed out. More often than not, the Vorrutyers didn’t show symptoms until their late teens or twenties; some had even made it through the Academy physical exams without anyone detecting their condition, only to drop dead without warning later in life. A twelve-year-old with noticeable symptoms was ... bad. Very bad.

An even bleaker thought occurred to Donna. “What’s he going to do about Richars and his brothers if he can’t *run*?”

“I don’t know,” said Szabo. “But he’s a clever little fellow. Remember that.”


“I’m afraid it’s rather complicated, and parts of it may come as a shock to you . Have you met Justina yet?”

“Yes. Unfortunately. Who is she, and where does she come from, and why doesn’t she have any manners?”

“Molecule wants to hide again,” CeeCee interrupted, having located the molecule.

“I think we’d better start with the where does she come from part, since that’s really where you come in. You see –”

“Da, I said molecule wants to hide.”

Dono sighed. “CeeCee, I’m sorry, but I’m trying to have a grown-up talk with Ivan right now. Why don’t you call Uncle Enrique on the comconsole and tell him how much you like your molecule?”

“Okay,” said CeeCee, and scampered off.

“Can he really use a comconsole?” Ivan asked.

“Sure. They seem to be born knowing how to use comconsoles, these days.”

“Can he really – you know – carry on a conversation with Enrique?”

“About as well as anybody can. I’m not sure they’re both having the same conversation, mind, but they seem to find it enjoyable.” Dono closed the study door, and turned to Ivan. “Right. So, about Justina. I’m afraid this may not be welcome news after all these years, but she comes from you and me. She’s our daughter.”

Ivan froze, and then began calculating furiously. Justina’s age was about right, but ... “That’s impossible. You had a contraceptive implant.”

“Ivan, dear, women have been known to lie about having contraceptive implants. I’m sure you’ve heard of the phenomenon before.”

“Not you,” said Ivan. “You’re not that kind.”

Dono looked levelly at him. “Maybe not, but I was very desperate,” he said. “I’d been married and divorced twice, without a child to show for it, and with the sort of reputation that would make most men think twice before proposing. My brother had been engaged multiple times, but never got as far as the wedding, and he was already in poor health. Richars was the next heir, unless I offered Pierre an alternative. A bastard would do, as long as he was indisputably Pierre’s nephew. Unfortunately, she turned out to be a girl bastard, so she was useless for my purposes. I found a nice married couple in the District who couldn’t have children of their own and offered to raise her, and I managed to keep the whole thing quiet so that it wouldn’t interfere with my ability to marry again. As far as I knew, Justina was well-looked-after and perfectly happy, until she turned up on the doorstep of the District house last week. The people she’s living with don’t believe in higher education for girls, and she wants a university degree, so she came to me.”

“And where do I come into this?”

“I would like you to take some responsibility for your daughter. I’ve been looking at the legalities, and I think I count as a witness for the acknowledged-bastard oath. I’m male, whatever I may have been in the past, and Vor-caste. You can take the oath in front of me today, get Justina a galactic passport by applying as her parent, and take her with you when you leave for Jackson’s Whole – which ought to happen as soon as you can get away, I think, since her foster-parents have been threatening to track her down and marry her off. I need hardly say that it is against her will.”

“These were the people you left her with? And you’re accusing *me* of not taking responsibility?”

“I didn’t feel that I had much of a choice at the time. Not if I hoped to have any chance at another marriage, and another child.”

It was typical of the crazy-ass Vorrutyer notion of honor, Ivan thought, that they always tried to make you think they were worse people than they actually were. “Interesting story. But I don’t believe a word of it. Shall I tell you what I think is really going on?”

“By all means. I’m curious to know what you think is really going on.”

“Justina isn’t your daughter, and she definitely isn’t mine. She is a Vorrutyer, though.” Ivan considered, very briefly, the possibility that she might be Byerly’s daughter, and decided that he couldn’t really see By abandoning his own child any more than he could see Dono doing it. Besides, that didn’t explain why the girl was calling herself Lady Justina. “She’s ... I think she’s Richars’s daughter, and she believes her father is rightfully the Count, and you felt guilty enough that you thought you ought to do something for her.”

“Oh, very good, Ivan! But you’d better be careful – if you keep that up, people will stop believing you’re the dumb one.”

“But I don’t see where I come in, or why you expect me to take her to Jackson’s Whole of all places. I mean, if you want to pay her university fees, that’s your affair and you’re perfectly free to do it without involving anybody else. Or if she’s in a really bad home situation and you need to get her out right now, why can’t you just let her stay here, or at the District house, and lie about it? It’s not like –” (With effort, he restrained himself from saying it’s not like you’ve ever objected to lying your head off before) “– not like her mother, or whoever has custody, has the authority to search your home.”
fic  fandom:vorkosigan  length:20k+ 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
Philomytha: Uncle Simon
He saw it was secure before Tuomonen gave the all-clear, and jogged at the fastest pace he could from their nest to the conspirators' room, pushing past commandos and arriving just in time to see the conspirator being dragged off Simon. Miles ran over.

"You damn sneaky bastard," the conspirator was saying half-appreciatively, looking at Simon and entirely ignoring the commandos. "Sir."

Simon extended a hand, and at a nod from Miles the commando let the ImpSec conspirator pull Simon to his feet. "As ever," Simon replied. "I'm sorry to see you here, Baudin." To Miles he added, "Baudin used to command my personal security detail, once. Until he starting turning up drunk on duty. His wife had died, but ... well. Can you do anything for him?"

"We'll see," Miles said. "Take him away, but hold him separately from the others," he added to the commando, and they watched until the room was cleared. Then Miles glared at Simon. "Dammit, that was far too dangerous--what on earth got into you? You could have been killed!"

"I'm fine, Miles, stop fretting," Simon said placidly. There was a strange little smile on his face. "I knew you were there, after all."

Miles ground his teeth, hovering at Simon's shoulder as they headed out of the building and towards the waiting lightflyer. "I'll go back with Simon now," he said to Tuomonen. "Congratulations, you get the mopping up. I'll be back later on, and you can always contact me if you need anything."

"Yes, my lord."

The only hint that Simon hadn't found the entire experience as easy as he feigned was the way his hand gripped Miles's shoulder to help himself into the flyer. But he was smiling as he sat down. "It worked very well," he said.

"By the skin of your teeth," Miles retorted. "If you ever pull a stunt like that--" Self-awareness finally caught up with him, with the dancing light in Simon's eyes. "Is this revenge, Simon?"

Simon ... smirked. "I wouldn't say I was above a little revenge now and then," he said, "though Sasha and Helen have most of the market cornered on that these days. But in this case, I thought you were letting emotion cloud your judgement. I knew I could distract them enough to reduce the risk of casualties, and I have never prioritised my own safety above my--ImpSec's--men."

"You wouldn't have had to answer to Aunt Alys if it had all gone wrong," Miles muttered. "Or Ivan, or Tej, or the kids, or Father and Mother, dammit."

Simon only looked at him. "Now that," he observed, "is revenge. I notified your parents that you were missing in action three times. And I notified them of your death."
fandom:vorkosigan  fic  AO3  length:10k+  genre:missing.moment 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
ellen_fremeden: Twenty-Year Man
"That was just my second drink!" Ivan insisted. "I can drive. I just—really shouldn't right now, actually. Oh. Oh dear." By retrieved his coat from the liveried servant, not an armsman but trying hard to look like one, stationed in the airy hall; Ivan shrugged into it mechanically. "I haven't had what that ensign OD'ed on, have I?"

"It wasn't an OD," By muttered, suddenly very close in Ivan's ear. "It was anaphylaxis." He shoved him gently down the entry hall and out the massive front doors. "And yes, you have," he said, when they were alone outside Vortashpula's townhouse. He ran his gloved fingers under Ivan's collar, very slowly and lightly—Ivan shivered—and came up with a tiny slip of clear plastic, all that was left of a pharmaceutical patch. "Punch," By said. He slipped it into a sealed pouch and secreted it in a pocket. "Or to you and me—fast-penta."

"I can't have been fast-pentaed!" Byerly gestured urgently for him to shush. "Except, no, I—is this always what it's like?"

"A low dose, I think." Byerly spoke so low Ivan had to bend his head to hear; his breath rustled in the hair behind Ivan's ear. "But the effects are unmistakable. You were sounding nearly cogent back there." He quickened his stride down the snow-dusted sidewalk. "I believe this is your…"

"Flyer," Ivan prompted.

"'Monstrosity' is the word I would have used."

Ivan piled into the passenger seat and watched Byerly strap in and go through the preflight checks. "Why would anyone use fast-penta as a party drug?" By lifted the flyer, and settled them into the lowest and slowest of the airlanes. "Oh, come on, you might as well take a groundcar."

"But annoyingly enough, you didn't. I shudder to think what you're compensating for with this thing." He turned the controls over to the autogovernor and leaned back. "And it is a very powerful euphoric. That may be the only reason. It's mostly been turning up in townie circles, the same crowd that tries everything else it can get a buzz off."

"Or it may not be," Ivan said. "That wasn't just your crowd in there tonight. Vorkeres was flying pretty high, too. Though Vortashpula wasn't," Ivan remembered. "Vortashpula was stone cold sober. And so was Edith Vorlane, and she had to be the one who planted the patch on me. And if she meant it to be recreational, she'd have been using it herself."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Believe me, she would not share until she'd had all she wanted herself."

"Vortashpula and Lady Vorlane. Interesting. Count Vorlane hasn't backed a horse in this race, publicly at least. Were they just sounding people out on the charter?"

"The charter, and whether we were declaring allegiance to Gregor for the vote, and what sort of precedent it might set. For devolution of imperial powers. Oh god. I almost blabbed all about Prince Serg in there."

Byerly automatically depressed the brake lever, though it had no effect with the autogov on. "What do you—no, stop, do *not* answer that."

Ivan shut his mouth amiably. "It's okay," he said. "I don't really know anything about Prince Serg. Just the same rumors everyone knows—you know, about your late uncle. And your late uncle and my late uncle. And—"

"Ivan, shut up. Really. Shut up." Byerly's eyes were wide and a little desperate.

"You look younger when you're surprised," Ivan said. "Or maybe just less jaded. It looks good on you."

"Fine," said Byerly. "We can talk about my face for as long as you want."

"It's not a bad face," Ivan agreed. "When you do that thing with your mouth, it makes me want to kiss you."

"Oh god. Ivan, please shut up again."

Ivan frowned, or he tried to; his own mouth still didn't want to bend that way. "I do want to, though. I'm a good kisser, you see. I bet if you let me kiss you, I could convince you to let me suck your cock."

"Right now, I would settle for convincing you to stop talking. I thought fast-penta was supposed to make people biddable."

"Low dose," said Ivan, cheerfully. "I really do want to make you happy, By—and that's got to be the drug, because usually I just want to annoy you and watch you do that thing with your mouth—but that's not the same as wanting to do what you say."

"I am giving you the antagonist as soon as this thing lands."

"We're on autogov."

"I don't trust it."

"You don't trust anyone."

"Oh, you noticed? I'm touched."

"Except Dono. And me, for some reason. I don't know why," Ivan said, "but it's flattering, really. God knows I shouldn't trust you, but I do." He considered Byerly's profile; the habitual moue, halfway between a smile and a sneer, was gone; his mouth was a flat line, all the expression in his face concentrated in those beautiful long-lashed eyes. "I meant it, about sucking your cock."


"I did! I couldn't lie about that now. Not even to myself. I really do want to."

"Yes, and right now that fact doesn't bother you at all," hissed By. "But you'll feel differently once you've had the antagonist." The thrusters kicked in, and the flyer made a neat landing behind Ivan's building.

Ivan nodded. "That's why I want to do it now," he explained, hurriedly, because By was rummaging in his satchel. "If I've already gone and done it and it wasn't my fault, then it's all right if I want to do it again."

Byerly just looked at him, even his eyes devoid of expression now.

"You see, I understand the way I think," Ivan assured him.

"I can see that," said By. "I'm giving you the antagonist now."

It took effect almost immediately, before Ivan's face could even fall out of its hopeful grin. And then the comedown really hit, and he couldn't have smiled if he'd wanted to, as every muscle in his body simultaneously remembered how tired he was, how tense he should be after saying... god.

"For the record," Ivan said finally, "the way I think is really, really stupid. I'm going to bed." He popped the hatch and clambered out, in stages, feet and then head and then everything else.


Monday morning, the Ops staff need-to-know caught up with Byerly's intelligence, and an ImpSec liaison came in to brief them on the fast-penta leak. "ImpSec is following up on all leads," he said wearily, "but we haven't tracked it all down yet. The professional dealers, they know how much they sold, and who to, but some of these society clowns—" He spread his hands. "They put out a bowl of patches at a party, or it gets lifted from a desk drawer, or they give some to someone they know they *knew*, they just never managed to catch their *name*. Bottom line," he said, "is that there's between forty-five and seventy half-doses still unaccounted for, and not likely to be found unless someone else turns up with the allergy like poor Ensign Raskin. Who should be out of ImpMil soon, by the way, and I've got a card here for him if you want to sign it."
fandom:vorkosigan  fic  ao3  length:20k+  A+  pairing:ivan/byerly  AU:canon.divergence 
march 2018 by tabacoychanel
A Deeper Season Verse Podfics by lightgetsin and sahiya, read by Rhea314
A startling confession sends Miles Vorkosigan's life to the left when it might have gone to the right. Miles/Gregor, AU post-Memory.
ep032  podfic  rec  fandom:vorkosigan 
august 2017 by auralphonic
Honor c16
Shards of Honor Fusion: Commander Belladonna Baggins did not expect her astrological survey to turn into this. She definitely didn't expect to find herself helping a Dwarf stage a coup to regain command of his own ship. And when that unfortunate business was over with, she never ever expected to see him again. No matter how much she might want to.
fandom:the.hobbit  fandom:vorkosigan  au  genderbender  thorin/bilbo  wip 
june 2017 by fyveryunoriginal
Worst Things - Gwynne - Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold [Archive of Our Own]
And since most of the heroic achievement seemed to have been covered already… Worst Things. If you can’t be the best, then be triumphantly the worst. [The future offspring contemplate how to out-do their illustrious parental units.]
fanfic  fandom:vorkosigan  theme:futurefic  words:2k-5k  via:butterflykiki 
april 2017 by alegria
The Huntsman's Reel - Philomytha - Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold [Archive of Our Own]
When Simon is still head of ImpSec, Simon and Alys work together at a Vor party in the Palace to help foil some assassins. Love the way their complementary skills are showed off in this fic.
fandom:vorkosigan  simon/alys  by:philomytha  yuletide2016 
january 2017 by aworldinside

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