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peacemillionTitle: Loyalties
Author: Dùlin
Pairings: Biffy/Lord Akeldama
Fandom: The Parasol Protectorate
Rating: PG
Warnings: Set at the end of book 3. Woolsey's newest pup is giving Professor Lyall a headache
Disclaimer: Gail Carriger owns. I am not Gail Carriger. You do the math.
This a slightly revised version after a re-read of Book 3 and a few editors going over it
Professor Lyall removed his glassicals and put them down on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was going to be one of those nights.
As a vampire drone, Biffy had mastered the art of moving as soundlessly as humanly possible while looking elegant and fashionable. Becoming a werewolf had only made him more adept at padding around silently. It was the smell that betrayed him every time.
It had taken a lot of diplomacy – and some sound roughing up by both Professor Lyall and Lord Maccon himself, not to mention some artfully applied blows from a silver-tipped parasol – for the pack to accept that a former vampire drone, and one of Lord Akeldama’s drones no less, was now one of theirs. Even now, some of the most restless of the pack still murmured. But pack was pack, and their Alpha had performed a feat of such rarity that they could not help being proud, in spite of the political tangle this had caused. Professor Lyall was sure that none of them would even think twice about rushing to Biffy’s rescue should anything happen to him, because he was theirs.
The problem was, mostly, that Biffy couldn’t quite seem to make up his mind as to what that meant with regards to his prior attachments. So far, he’d apparently opted for not making up his mind. And because he was a pup and not quite yet used to his new senses, he hadn’t realized that sneaking out of a castle full of werewolves was one of those things that just did not happen.
To his credit, he had been more than ready to learn pack etiquette, and some of it was just pure instinct, ingrained at the same time as the curse. Still, he did find the transformation process rather distasteful, and it would be extremely painful for him for years to come, and one had never seen a werewolf eating their raw meat with such impeccable manners. He had been used to frequenting the supernatural set for quite some time, of course but vampires were not werevolves and his charm and fashion sense stood out in the middle of the pack’s battle-hardened soldiers. Professor Lyall, to his own surprise, could not help thinking that he was faring better than some clavigers would have in his place.
… And he was sneaking out as soon as the sun set on a regular basis to meet up with his former master. And the whole pack knew it, because no self-respecting pack would ever leave a pup unattended.
Professor Lyall didn’t know what embarrassed him the most: the fact that Biffy did it, blissfully unaware that he was not being as discreet as he believed himself to be, or the fact that the pack Beta, who shouldn’t have been in charge of overseeing new pups and breaking them in but had been left to it by his oh so irritating Alpha, was letting him get away with it.
Lord Maccon knew, of course. One could not expect such a thing to escape his notice. But he had not mentioned it even once, clearly trusting his Beta to take the right course of action. For the first time in a long while, Professor Lyall wondered if that trust might not be misplaced in such circumstances.
He ought to stop Biffy, there was no question about that. Vampires and werewolves did not appreciate each other at the best of time, and they most certainly did not frequent each other unless absolutely forced to.
Pack protocol commanded that Biffy would have to stop if directly ordered. The direct order had yet to come, and Professor Lyall could not imagine it being edicted in the foreseeable future. Every time he tried to steel his resolve, it crumbled under the memory of Lord Akeldama’s pain.
He had known there would be repercussions when he had urged Lord Maccon to turn the young man. But he didn’t want to think of the consequences had they let Biffy die. Lord Akeldama was a very powerful rove, and he could not have let the abduction and death of his favorite drone go unpunished for fear of losing his standing. The BUR would have ended up with a vampire civil war on their hands in the heart of London.
There were nights, like tonight, when Professor Lyall wondered if it might not have been preferable to the look of loss and hurt he had seen on the vampire’s face. In all of his admittedly long life he had never thought that he would see such a thing, and it was not something he was in any hurry to see again.
He had misjudged the depth of the feelings the two men had for each other. He couldn’t regret saving Biffy, but he did wonder how he could have been so blind. In hindsight, it had been glaringly obvious, especially given how much time he’d spent around Biffy while Lord and Lady Maccon had been traipsing around Scotland. And he, of all people, should have been able to see it. Not that he would have made a different decision if he had, but he would probably have handled the aftermarth better. Lord Akeldama would get over it, although there was no telling how long the vampire would sulk. But it was Biffy who was now stuck between a rock and hard place, through no fault of his own.
Something had to be done, though. Professor Lyall stretched and got up, leaving his office and taking some dark passageways that looped around the castle. He reached the back door at the same time Biffy did and the pup froze.
Professor Lyall stared at him. Biffy stared back. Not aggressive - he knew enough not to actually challenge the pack’s Beta - but defiant. Submissive, but not cowed. He was ready to risk his skin for this.
Professor Lyall sighed.
“Go. Just make sure you are back before sunrise.”
Biffy blinked, then nodded, baring his throat slightly before slipping out and carefully closing the door.
“Why are you up so early?” Professor Lyall asked to the darker shadow on the other side of the door.
“This has to stop. It’s going to come back and bite us in the arse,” Major Channing said.
“… Probably. But this is my problem, not yours.”
Author: Dùlin
Pairings: Biffy/Lord Akeldama
Fandom: The Parasol Protectorate
Rating: PG
Warnings: Set at the end of book 3. Woolsey's newest pup is giving Professor Lyall a headache
Disclaimer: Gail Carriger owns. I am not Gail Carriger. You do the math.
This a slightly revised version after a re-read of Book 3 and a few editors going over it
Professor Lyall removed his glassicals and put them down on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was going to be one of those nights.
As a vampire drone, Biffy had mastered the art of moving as soundlessly as humanly possible while looking elegant and fashionable. Becoming a werewolf had only made him more adept at padding around silently. It was the smell that betrayed him every time.
It had taken a lot of diplomacy – and some sound roughing up by both Professor Lyall and Lord Maccon himself, not to mention some artfully applied blows from a silver-tipped parasol – for the pack to accept that a former vampire drone, and one of Lord Akeldama’s drones no less, was now one of theirs. Even now, some of the most restless of the pack still murmured. But pack was pack, and their Alpha had performed a feat of such rarity that they could not help being proud, in spite of the political tangle this had caused. Professor Lyall was sure that none of them would even think twice about rushing to Biffy’s rescue should anything happen to him, because he was theirs.
The problem was, mostly, that Biffy couldn’t quite seem to make up his mind as to what that meant with regards to his prior attachments. So far, he’d apparently opted for not making up his mind. And because he was a pup and not quite yet used to his new senses, he hadn’t realized that sneaking out of a castle full of werewolves was one of those things that just did not happen.
To his credit, he had been more than ready to learn pack etiquette, and some of it was just pure instinct, ingrained at the same time as the curse. Still, he did find the transformation process rather distasteful, and it would be extremely painful for him for years to come, and one had never seen a werewolf eating their raw meat with such impeccable manners. He had been used to frequenting the supernatural set for quite some time, of course but vampires were not werevolves and his charm and fashion sense stood out in the middle of the pack’s battle-hardened soldiers. Professor Lyall, to his own surprise, could not help thinking that he was faring better than some clavigers would have in his place.
… And he was sneaking out as soon as the sun set on a regular basis to meet up with his former master. And the whole pack knew it, because no self-respecting pack would ever leave a pup unattended.
Professor Lyall didn’t know what embarrassed him the most: the fact that Biffy did it, blissfully unaware that he was not being as discreet as he believed himself to be, or the fact that the pack Beta, who shouldn’t have been in charge of overseeing new pups and breaking them in but had been left to it by his oh so irritating Alpha, was letting him get away with it.
Lord Maccon knew, of course. One could not expect such a thing to escape his notice. But he had not mentioned it even once, clearly trusting his Beta to take the right course of action. For the first time in a long while, Professor Lyall wondered if that trust might not be misplaced in such circumstances.
He ought to stop Biffy, there was no question about that. Vampires and werewolves did not appreciate each other at the best of time, and they most certainly did not frequent each other unless absolutely forced to.
Pack protocol commanded that Biffy would have to stop if directly ordered. The direct order had yet to come, and Professor Lyall could not imagine it being edicted in the foreseeable future. Every time he tried to steel his resolve, it crumbled under the memory of Lord Akeldama’s pain.
He had known there would be repercussions when he had urged Lord Maccon to turn the young man. But he didn’t want to think of the consequences had they let Biffy die. Lord Akeldama was a very powerful rove, and he could not have let the abduction and death of his favorite drone go unpunished for fear of losing his standing. The BUR would have ended up with a vampire civil war on their hands in the heart of London.
There were nights, like tonight, when Professor Lyall wondered if it might not have been preferable to the look of loss and hurt he had seen on the vampire’s face. In all of his admittedly long life he had never thought that he would see such a thing, and it was not something he was in any hurry to see again.
He had misjudged the depth of the feelings the two men had for each other. He couldn’t regret saving Biffy, but he did wonder how he could have been so blind. In hindsight, it had been glaringly obvious, especially given how much time he’d spent around Biffy while Lord and Lady Maccon had been traipsing around Scotland. And he, of all people, should have been able to see it. Not that he would have made a different decision if he had, but he would probably have handled the aftermarth better. Lord Akeldama would get over it, although there was no telling how long the vampire would sulk. But it was Biffy who was now stuck between a rock and hard place, through no fault of his own.
Something had to be done, though. Professor Lyall stretched and got up, leaving his office and taking some dark passageways that looped around the castle. He reached the back door at the same time Biffy did and the pup froze.
Professor Lyall stared at him. Biffy stared back. Not aggressive - he knew enough not to actually challenge the pack’s Beta - but defiant. Submissive, but not cowed. He was ready to risk his skin for this.
Professor Lyall sighed.
“Go. Just make sure you are back before sunrise.”
Biffy blinked, then nodded, baring his throat slightly before slipping out and carefully closing the door.
“Why are you up so early?” Professor Lyall asked to the darker shadow on the other side of the door.
“This has to stop. It’s going to come back and bite us in the arse,” Major Channing said.
“… Probably. But this is my problem, not yours.”
