“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll be off.”

Onoelle waved Cassy goodbye, made her promise one last time to be good, gave a serious nod to Jane, before turning towards her husband and giving his hand a squeeze. Then they set off at a brisk pace.

She was strangely excited. It was the first time in… ever, really, that her father wanted to have a proper one-on-one talk with her husband. It might be a bit stereotypical, but she very much wanted her dad to approve of Mentuc. It was a simple, honest desire, borne out of the respect she held for the man. Jon Gyhad was, in some ways, similar to the man holding her hand. At first glance her father appeared fairly simple and straightforward, quiet rather than outspoken. Yet underneath that calm and collected exterior lay the mind of a deep thinker, a man who preferred to watch and study the world rather than talk and get personally involved. It took a lot to break through the calm surface of her father and get him to show emotions openly.

Even when she had married his face had remained remarkably impassive, only his eyes revealing fragments of the storm of emotions beneath. He had given her a hug, told her to take good care of each other, and wished her well.

She looked up beside her and saw that her husband was watching her, his lenses slowly swirling around in his eyes. His own face might as well have been hewn out of stone, given how little it typically moved. She smiled at him, allowing her excitement and deep, full happiness to freely spill from her eyes and every pore, and took delight in seeing the stone crack. It wasn’t much, a simple upward lift of the corners of his lips, but she knew him well enough to recognise the movement for a full, content smile.

She leaned against him, letting go off his hand, only to find his arm move around her shoulders. His fingers, strong enough to break rock, gave her a tender squeeze. She luxuriated in the feeling. She still struggled coming to grasps with just how happy he could make her.

Mentuc was a complicated person, with an equally complicated past. He had nearly killed her, on more than one occasion, during the early stages of their slow dance towards one another. She had discovered his boundaries, and slowly, ever so slowly, eroded them as she gained his trust and irrevocably bound herself to him, and to the countless secrets that he kept.

And yet he had shared those secrets with her. Most of them. He was over six centuries her senior, six hundred years of incredibly intense and fast-paced living. There were countless parts of his past that she did not yet know, merely by dint of them not having yet had the chance to talk about them.

Yet despite that, despite knowing only a fraction of his life, she knew him. And he knew her. More thoroughly than she had ever thought possible. Part of that had been him studying her life, to ensure that she was everything she said she was. A different part of it was him observing her as she tried to observe him. And a final part was sappy and romantic and very dangerous to think about due to what it did to her state of mind.

When he named me Onoelle.

The Imperial language had several levels of inflection to it, with the right type of inflection giving a word a broader meaning and a far greater level of importance. When he had first named her as such, after she had named him Mentuc rather than his old cognomen of Dreamer, she had not known the meaning, yet even so the surprising level of emotion in his usually impassive voice had melted her heart. When he had fully detailed the meaning of Onoelle, of life… It sent a shiver down her spine.

Their names had a deep meaning to both of them. Each freely granted to the other. Each given in a pure form of admiration, respect and love. It signified their bond with one another. And that bond was stronger than the most perfect fairy-tale she had been able to imagine as a child.

He had once told her about how they each saw the concept of trust. For her it was, well, trust. For him it was a statistic of how much he could rely on someone in dire situations. And that this concept did not apply to Nightmare. What bound those two together exceeded trust. It was not a probability, not a chance factor. Their cooperation, their teamwork, their ability to always and ever rely on the other was as solid and real as any law of physics.

And he regarded her the same.

Yes, he was her husband. Her secretive Genesis soldier, the last survivor of a nation that shook the stars. He was a man capable of endless violence —had inflicted it— and yet… He was the same man who held her tenderly, who cared for her, who loved her with whole his heart and all his ability, and was devoted to her beyond what words could ever define.

And in turn she loved him just as much. With all her heart, body and soul, nothing held back.

Neither of them were perfect. She had a knack of getting herself in trouble and he was still learning how to be human. It made for an interesting, if occasionally rocky relationship, but neither of them backed down from the challenge, instead only intertwining ever closer.

“Are you looking forward to seeing my dad?” she asked him after having crossed several kilometres in silence, perfectly content with simply leaning against him and enjoying his presence.

She wasn’t surprised to find him gazing at her silently rather than respond. Mentuc didn’t really do “looking forward to”. There were very few things he took joy in, and expanding that very limited range was one of her hardest tasks.

“Yes,” he finally said, his eyes never pulling away from her. “I will try to establish friendly relations with your father.”

She rolled her eyes at the typical response. And she knew his unvoiced reasoning. He looked forward to doing it, because he had seen how happy the prospect of it had made her.

“Is there anything I should know before — talking with him?”

She bit his nose, fully knowing he was about to say something along the lines of engaging in diplomacy.

“Be yourself. It’s bad enough that my mother thinks you’re not right in the head. I would rather my dad gets an honest measure of you, and learns to appreciate you for who you are.” She shrugged. “Besides, I think you’ll get along. Both of you are straightforward, quiet and honest.”

He nodded, closing off the subject, even though she knew his mind would continuously run simulations in preparation for the encounter. Her loveable oaf of a husband didn’t exactly do casual meetings. “What about you?” he asked back. “Are you looking forward to spending time with your mother?”

She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sinking somewhat. She had not yet talked to him about the ever-increasing tension between her and her mother. She loved the woman, deeply so, but her stubborn refusal to acknowledge her as an adult was steadily grating her nerves away.

There’d been several clashes again, and while she acknowledged that her mother had a point given her past actions, she was bloody married now. Had been for years! The constant, well-meant, overbearing and often downright arrogant and abrasive advice about how to treat her husband, how to be a proper wife and everything else. And the unrelenting nagging about grandchildren was driving her up the wall. It had gone well past the point where her mother should have seen the flashing neon signs and begun to back off, but she hadn’t.

All in all, it was good that she did not see the woman too often. She would never stop loving her mother, but she knew her nerves could only take so much before she’d end up lashing out. And then there was the matter of how she treated Mentuc…

She tried to only visit when her father was there, but the man was often working late and she did not want to risk her mother insisting her to sleep over, not when the woman knew they always walked to the village and back. She had no intention on explaining why Mentuc would break any piece of furniture the moment he sat on it. He already had to pretend to sit while eating with them, lest the chair collapse under his inhuman weight.

“I’m mixed about it,” she finally said. “I’m looking forward to seeing her —if she doesn’t nag me again— but she’s hiding something, and I think it’ll come out while I’m over and you’re with my dad. I don’t really know what it is, but I’ll eat my shoes if it’s not related to her sudden invitation.”

She caught two of his lenses briefly darting down to her feet before shooting back up, and she let out a laugh. “It’s an expression,” she clarified. “Just a figure of speech. I’m not going to eat my shoes.”

“I assumed,” he deadpanned. “Your skill at cooking should not have made you that desperate.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, Mentuc stopping virtually the same moment in response. “Was that a snappy joke? From you?”

There was a glitter in his eyes that highlighted his amusement, but he gave her no response.

“Well voids be damned. That must be Cassy’s influence rubbing off on you.”

He suddenly seemed unsure. “I thought it was appropriate.” He tilted his head. “Was it not?”

She shook her head whilst grinning. “No, it was perfect. I love it. I just didn’t think you were capable of it.” She eyed him warily, unable to get her face under control. “Maybe I’ll have to separate you from Cassy for a while, lest I end up outnumbered in my own house.”

His head remained tilted as he parsed that statement, before grasping that it was meant as a joke. He remained silent for a second or two more. “Perhaps you ought to ask Nightmare to back you up?” he offered.

She sputtered in response, unable to formulate a proper counter to that. The mysterious AI had made no secret of the raging jealousy the once-Genesis felt towards her, yet simultaneously had assured her that she was part of the squad, too essential to Mentuc, and a priority one target to protect besides, to ever see her endangered. Which had never prevented the enigmatic being from taking the utmost delight in terrifying her, although, after agreeing to a sort of armed ceasefire between them they had been getting along better. Even if Mentuc still occasionally had to pull both parties apart lest a shouting match ensue.

She even had an earpiece of her own now, allowing her a direct link with the AI at all times, whereas before it had only been her husband.

She gave the matter a bit more thought, before deciding to continue the banter. “Perhaps,” she ventured. “But only if she promises to not join me on the dance floor.”

Nightmare, ever present as always, decided that this was the right moment to join in. “Worried I’ll outdance you?” came a far too gleeful voice.

“More concerned about the dance floor shattering under your weight,” she retorted to the being inhabiting a large warship. “Have you considered going on a diet?”

“Pot, meet kettle. Or pancake, rather.”

“Hey, you’d eat them too if you still had taste buds!”

Both parties fell quiet as they spotted, one with her eyes, the other with her sensors, Mentuc softly shaking his head. “I do not,” the man softly said, “understand this fascination with pancakes.”

Onoelle, through fits of laughter, used the rest of the walk to thoroughly explain the concept of exaggeration for comedic purposes, how it was used in this case, and what a running joke was.

Nightmare contented herself with lurking in the background once again. She knew what was awaiting them, her satellite network fully functional and keeping a very close eye on Agitana and its surrounding, as her superior had ordered.

And she found herself purring with excitement over what was about to happen. Part of her felt that she should have warned her superior of what was coming. Yet she suppressed that part easily. It would be a valuable learning experience to all involved, albeit a painful one.

“Still,” her voice rang across her empty bridge. “Painful experiences often make the best teachers.”

At exactly nine o’clock in the morning, Nyna rushed herself to the door as the bell rang. She was somewhat surprised to find her daughter on time, for once, but she would not complain. It was a marked improvement over the usual random interval the fool girl would usually show up at.

She opened the door and was immediately crushed in a broad hug. “Hi mum!”

“Leonne, darling! So glad you could make it.” She stepped back to give her daughter a proper look over and tsk’d at her when she found her wearing a simple shirt and jeans. Then she spotted Leonne’s husband, somehow managing to have almost faded out of view despite standing only slightly out of the way. His clothes were scarcely different, being a long-sleeved shirt and worker’s trousers, but then again he would be out in the fields today.

“Mentuc!” she greeted him, embracing him in a hug, which the poor boy awkwardly returned. As always it felt as if she was touching a lump of stone rather than a human being, but it didn’t surprise her. She knew the boy was a wall of muscles. “How have you been?”

“I am well,” came the response. It sounded a bit stiff, as he always did, but she smoothed over that. The poor boy couldn’t much help being the way he was. “Is Jon present?”

“He’s already out at the fields. He’s helping the Leniksons. They’re—”

“I know the place,” he interrupted, nodding politely at her. “I shall go there then.” Before she could even say anything else he passed by Leonne, gave her a tender hug, a surprisingly long kiss, before setting off at that weird, brisk gait of his.

Nyna let out a forced chuckle. “Seems like he’s looking forward to it.”

“He is,” her daughter said as she whisked past her into the house. “What about dad? Any clue on what made him decide it all of a sudden?”

“Oh, you know your dad,” Nyna smiled, closing the door. “Nobody but him knows what goes on in that mind of his. Sometimes I wonder if even he has an inkling.”

“Men will be men,” Leonne laughed, causing her to do the same.

“And boys will be boys,” she continued.

“And sometimes the two are indistinguishable,” they finished the old saying jointly.

Nyna watched her daughter charge into the kitchen with determination. By the time she caught up with her, Leonne just got done tearing open every kitchen drawer and was currently attentively studying the contents of the fridge.

“Were you planning on starting the Festival early?” the girl quipped.

Nyna gave a motherly smile. “The boys will be hungry when they return from the field. And I don’t really know what that man of you likes to eat, or if there was anything you wanted to cook in particular.”

“He’s pretty easy to please,” Leonne shrugged absentmindedly. “Quantity is the keyword with him.” She pulled open the vegetable layer and began to scrutinise what she found there, something Nyna watched upon with approval. Clearly her daughter had learned some important lessons about the freshness of vegetables since she began to grow them herself.

She took care to not show her reaction to the first half of her daughter’s response, though.

“Oh, cauliflower. That’s always good!”

Nyna blinked as her daughter, seemingly having made up her mind, tore into the kitchen with a will. In short order the three cauliflowers, two dozen eggs, two sacks of potatoes, a huge block of cheese and every sausage she could find had been whisked away and put next to the sink.

“What are you going to make?” she asked, curious. “And how many people will we need to invite?” The recipe was unknown to her, but the quantities were large enough to feed half the street.

Leonne tucked a rogue strand of hair back in place and gave her a sheepish grin. “I thought to take the leftovers home with me.” When the girl received a nod in return, she continued. “It’s something Mentuc once made for me, when he was exploring some recipes of his own. I don’t know where he got it from, but I loved it. It’s an oven dish. You start with a layer of mashed potatoes, add the boiled sausages, a thin layer of mash on top, a layer of egg slices, then steamed cauliflower. Drown it in cheese sauce, add one final layer of mash, add a bit of cheese for a crust. Put it in the oven, serve when it’s piping hot.”

She suddenly paused and seemed self-conscious. “It’s not that complicated of a meal, I know, but it’s very filling.” Her hands hovered over the ingredients. “But maybe I should pick something else… I kind of wanted to show off.”

Nyna laughed at the sight. “Make the oven dish, sweetheart. You can always come back a later time to brag. Not like I’ll ever say no to you wanting to come over. Heavens know I don’t see you much.”

She watched her daughter scratch her head, before slowly setting the ingredients properly apart and beginning the lengthy process of preparing them. “You’re right. I know we’ve been busy on the farm and all, but I think we’ll be able to free up more time soon enough. Especially with Cassy and Jane helping out here and there.”

“I did notice that you’ve made more trips to the village in the last few months. Especially with that husband of yours.”

The tone of voice didn’t escape Leonne’s notice, going by the way her fingers froze for an instant, but it was clear the girl wasn’t willing to push. She was glad for it. She didn’t want any confrontations yet. She just wanted to spend some simple, pleasant time together with her oldest child.

“Yeah,” Leonne laughed. “Whenever we send Jane, she forgets half the things on her shopping list.” She paused and snorted. “Or the bloody list itself. She’s lucky her neck’s keeping her head to her body. I swear she’d manage to lose it otherwise. When I send Mentuc out I can rest easy.” A brief pause as she dunked a cauliflower into the water. “He never lets me down, really.”

Nyna cringed at those words. Oh, fool, fool girl.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Good morning, Jon,” came Mentuc’s voice.

“Bugger me!” the man in question shouted. “Couldn’t have been any quieter had you tried, could you?”

Jon shook his head, amusement hidden behind his gruff features. His daughter’s husband was just looking at him, as if he hadn’t known what he’d done. As if the man hadn’t just snuck across an open field to magically appear scant few inches away, despite having been on the lookout for him.

“Right then,” the older man continued, rubbing the dirt of his hands and offering one of them. When Mentuc grasped it, he gave a proper squeeze and was pleased when the man didn’t budge.

Strong arms, he noted, confirming an earlier suspicion.

“How are you?” he asked, turning back to the large rock they were wriggling out of the ground. “And how’s my daughter?”

“Good,” came the simple response, the man immediately joining the others and reaching for one of the prybars.

“Three, two, one, heave!” Jon shouted and the men obeyed. The rock almost shot free, causing one of the men at the edges to shout in surprise as it suddenly rolled free past him.

The farmers began to slap each other on the back, greeted Mentuc in turn, and moved to place it onto a nearby sled, to be taken off the field and tossed onto one of dumping grounds.

Jon waved them goodbye, keeping half an eye on the relaxed manner of his son-in-law. The others might have thought that their second-to-last push had nearly gotten the stone free, but he knew better. Clothes hide it well, he thought, but the bugger’s got fierce strength in him.

He busied himself making some readjustments to his little machine, a four-legged construct that used seismic refraction to find the pesky rocks underneath, as well as several drills to take samples for the onboard laboratory. Add an engine to let it walk by itself, the thing was fairly clunky and typically required two men to move it comfortably.

Once the men were gone, he gestured to Mentuc to help him, before pretending his back was hurt. In the blink of an eye his son-in-law was beside him, offering a helping hand.

With the machine on his shoulder.

It was a good, manly strength, one he approved of. And his quick move to help was equally admirable.

“Walk with me, son,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of fields to cover today.” He set off at a careful pace, to not reveal his earlier deception, and Mentuc followed suit. Jon watched him move. He remembered how he had moved when he had first entered the village. Back then he had thought him a drunk. Not long after, when his daughter had begun getting hopelessly infatuated with him, even if she hadn’t recognised it as such, he realised it hadn’t been the case.

Even now he still didn’t know what the man was hiding, but he did know that the bloke seemed much more at ease when working. His movements seemed more fluid and natural, even if there remained a clunkiness to them. And his daughter had not uttered a singular word of complaint since being together with him. As far as he was concerned, that was a strong point in his favour and enough to assuage any niggling doubts.

“So, how are things between you and Leonne?”

“Things are good.”

“She happy?”

“Yes.” A calm, collected response.

“Are you making her happy?” he pushed.

“Yes.”

Jon nodded. It was said with confidence, without hesitation.

“And does she make you happy?”

This time the stone façade seemed to crack a little. “Yes,” came the response. Jon didn’t see any difference on the man’s face, but he could feel it. It caused his own leathery face to break open in a smile.

“That is good.”

Everything essential said for now the two men set to work. There were many fields around Agitana that required checking. Even a single missed rock could wreck the ploughs or any other of the delicate farming machinery, and Jon imprinted the importance of that on Mentuc. He found him a good listener, and soon enough they were covered head to toe in grime and dirt as they toiled on.

“So,” Nyna said, watching her daughter close the oven door. “That’s that then.”

“Yep!” Leonne happily agreed. “Thanks for the help, mum. I’m getting better, but I’d have taken way longer with it. Especially peeling potatoes. I just don’t have the dexterity for that.”

She chuckled. “You try peeling potatoes every day for a decade or two on end. You’ll get used to it.”

Her girl gave a grin in agreement. “So.” She turned on the sink and began washing her hands. “What now?”

“Now? Now comes the best part! We wait until the food’s done and keep ourselves entertained. Hold on.” She made a quick dive into the cellar and returned a moment later holding a tall, green bottle.

“Really?” Leonne asked, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t it too early in the day for that?”

“Nonsense, sweety! It’s after noon, the chores are done, we’re free as the birds and I’ll not have you do away with any excuses to have a nice little chit chat and some time for gossiping,” she protested.

She put the bottle down and in short succession had a pair of glasses and several bowls of snacks out. Using powers innate to mothers all over the galaxy she had Leonne sitting in the couch with a full glass in her hands in no time at all, simply barging over any attempts to divert the course.

“So, sweetheart, tell me about your life.”

Leonne opened her mouth, but fell quiet as Nyna’s intense stare caught her. She grinned sheepishly and took a careful sip. “I don’t suppose saying that things are going good will get me off the hook?”

A grin of her own came up, and for a moment the two mirrored one another. “Not this time, dear.”

“Right, well…”

Several hours later the evening was properly advancing, and the level of liquor left in the bottle had retreated to near nothing. Mother and daughter were happily… if not intoxicated, then at least ever-so-slightly inebriated. They were happily speaking nonsense at this point, calling up old memories and laughing louder at them than the events themselves warranted.

Nyna was thoroughly pleased. It had been far too long since she had spent a carefree evening with her daughter like that, even more so now that Cassy had all but gone to live with Leonne and Mentuc. Both women had carefully steered away from the more sensitive subjects, and while she knew that Leonne had seen through her unease, her daughter had been willing to leave it be.

Now, with not too much time remaining before the men would be back, she would have to tackle the subject. Before Jon came back and the dam would burst. If he had to bring her the news…

She wondered if he had even asked Mentuc about it. Poor boy was such a good lad, but so simple of mind, so easily tricked. To broach such a subject… She wouldn’t even know where to begin!

“Sweetheart,” she began, feeling her hands clamming up already.

“Yes, mum?” Leonne began, sensing that the direction of the conversation was about to radically shift.

“Are you sure everything is well between you and Mentuc?”

Nyna watched her daughter’s back straighten, her eyes clear and alert. “What exactly are you referring to?”

So much her father’s daughter, Nyna thought. “Are you sure he’s fully happy with you?”

She raised her hands defensively, feeling the storm building. “I am not saying you don’t love him, or that he doesn’t love you, dear. I’m only inquiring. A man is an impulsive creature. Sometimes they need looking over, lest they run astray. They’re simple beings, who often need reminding of whom it is they truly love, and who truly loves them.”

Leonne closed her eyes, hands balled into tight fists. She could see her counting to ten. When she opened them, the anger was still visible, but it was controlled. “If this is about the way I dress—”

“Among other things.”

“Look mum, I love you, but I don’t need you babysitting my every action,” she hissed. “I’m a grown woman and I—”

“Do you think you’re attractive to him?” Nyna shot back, angrier than she had intended. She could not help it. The fool girl kept refusing to simply listen. She was so young, so inexperienced, and despite her degrees she had shown herself to be often unaware of the true nature of men.

Leonne reared back, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “What—“

“You’ve got good looks, Leonne, but do you ever show them to him? Physical attraction is an important part of any healthy relation. Do you even care about how you look to him? Do you even treat him well enough? Heavens above, the boy’s simple as rain.”

The anger warred with confusion. She raised a hand, interrupting her mother’s tirade. “What,” she hissed, “are you on about?”

“I’m worried for you two, that’s what I’m on about. That you’re not giving him enough care. That—”

“Stop,” she demanded, anger turning into boiling rage, barely held in check. It burned throughout her entire body, lay there as it if were a coiled snake, ready to strike.

Nyna knew she had struck a sensitive chord. She had been against her daughter pursuing him when he had first appeared, and had only acquiesced when Leonne had announced her intent to marry him, more out of a realisation that it had been a lost cause than any actual acceptance.. She had given her blessing in the end, but certain parts of their relationship had never fully healed.

“Mentuc loves me,” her daughter announced, visibly struggling with rage against a well-meaning but overly intrusive mother. “I love him. We are happy together, and any issues we have are talked about and dealt with. I don’t need your outdated, stupid advice. And I…”

Uh-oh.

Leonne’s eyes turned to daggers as she leaned forward. Her entire posture radiated a different kind of anger, one that wasn’t directed towards her. “What,” she demanded, “happened?”

Nyna swallowed dryly. The cat was out of the bag now. “Well…” she began.

“There have been rumours…”

“You do good work, son,” Jon grunted as they pulled the machine out of the ground.

It had been a busy day. The ever-shifting tectonic plates underneath continuously sent rocks up, remnants of underground mountains that collided far underneath and were slowly pushed towards the surface, forcing the villagers to continuously be wary of them and remove them before they got too high up and became a liability to the farmers. Nobody ever considered abandoning the area, though. The land was far too fertile for that.

A small mountain of rocks of varying sizes was added to the nearest dump, a sign of the intense labour performed that day. The rest of the men had already gone home, their presence no longer needed after the last rock had been pulled out. Now it was just Mentuc and Jon.

“You give good instructions,” Mentuc replied.

Jon smiled. He had gotten a decent read on the man by now. His son-in-law spoke very little, but that meant every word had been weighed before it left his mouth. Sure, there were many things off about him. The way he spoke, the way he moved, those strange sunglasses… And plenty of other things beside.

None of it really mattered to him. The man was obviously utterly smitten with his daughter. Simple questions, such as whether she still liked her coffee with two clumps of sugar, had gotten him equally simple answers. Yet it was not the answers that told him what he wanted to hear. The man showed no emotion, unless he was talking about Leonne. Then he lit up. Not in any clear, visible way, but there was a slight spring in his step, a tiny crease around his eyes.

He would have staked his machine on the rumours being nothing but bullocks.

Still. He had a task to perform. Because unless he was very wrong, his wife would have struggled to heaven and back to breach the subject, and might very well end up chickening out in the end. And while he was convinced of Mentuc’s innocence, he doubted he could properly transfer that feeling of certainty to her.

“So, lad,” he began, before falling quiet for a bit. He thought about how to best inquire to a man, whom he fully believed was straight as a laser, if he was cheating. On the woman he was married to. Who was also the daughter of the man asking the question. Normally he’d hesitate to do that to a man who was strong enough to pop his head off like a cork in a fit of rage, but he doubted the man was that easily given to either anger or pride.

Sod it all, was the conclusion.

“You’ve heard the rumours in the village ‘bout you yet?”

It got a visible blink out of him. “I have not.”

It was amazing how rapidly the atmosphere shifted. Mentuc went from calm and happily trudging along with the machine on his shoulder, to tensed muscles and ready for trouble.

“There’s been rumours of you meeting up with someone in the village.”

No change.

“Late at night. With a woman.”

Something changed. He couldn’t tell what, couldn’t even say how he knew. All he knew was that something had changed about the air around his son-in-law. Even so, no reaction was forthcoming.

“Any truth to that, Mentuc?”

The silence dragged on. Very long. Concerningly long. Suspiciously long. He began to doubt himself. Surely he wouldn’t be wrong about the lad?

“I—” he began, before the ringing of Jon’s datapad cut short the tense moment.

The man cursed at the untimely interruption and looked down, and saw his daughter’s name in broad letters.

“And you believed them?” Onoelle shouted, kicking the chair out of her way as she chased after her rapidly retreating mother.

“Of course not, but—”

“Yes, you fucking did! You doubt him!” She paused her furious charge across the room to let out a primal scream of powerless rage. “Voids be damned, mum! You should have told me this from the bloody start!”

“I wanted to be sure that—”

“That WHAT?” She turned onto her mother, hands quivering with emotion. “That maybe I wouldn’t be aware if my husband decided to get some on the side? That maybe, maybe, the man I trust with my life and soul would happily go and fuck around because he wasn’t happy I dressed like a damned harlot?”

“Sweetheart, listen—”

“Have you ever even stopped to listen to me when I told you over and over again how happy I was with him?”

“It’s not—”

“Or didn’t you hear his response when I dressed up the way you wanted, and he didn’t. Give. A single. Fuck?”

“Leonne, I only—”

“Or is it because I’m not pregnant yet? Is that the reason? That just because I’m not stuffed full like you were at that age, you think I’m kicking him out of bed every fucking night?”

“That’s not what—"

“Is that how you regard dad as well? As a man who’ll go off and screw the first whore who bats his eyes at him unless you drag him into the bedroom and ride him silly?”

“Now listen here young lady, I—”

“You are going to shut your FUCKING MOUTH!” she howled.

She watched in satisfaction as her mother, for once in her life, listened to her and sat her stupid ass down, looking up at her with no small amount of fear. Fear of her rage, and, which stoked the fire even higher, fear that it’d only get worse if the rumours turned out true.

She tried to calm herself. Really, really tried. She thought of Mentuc, of his steel levels of self-control.

“Right,” she finally said, her voice high and breaking mid-word as she managed to get the tiniest grip on the storm raging within her. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to sit there and keep absolutely. Quiet.” She vested her mother with her best murderous glare, and it worked. “I am going to call dad. And he’s going to come here with Mentuc. And we’ll talk this out. And you are going to fucking listen and treat me as an adult who has her shit together, or stars help me—” She couldn’t think of an appropriate threat and settled for another scream, which seemed to work equally well.

She reached for her datapad and almost punched through the portable computer as she dialled her father.

“Dad,” came Leonne’s audibly distressed voice, followed by her reddened face a moment later. “I’m— Hi love.” Jon looked over his shoulder to find Mentuc hovering there, staring very intently at the screen. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here,” she began, alerting him to the fact that someone else was no longer getting that. “That you weren’t the instigator of it and just bought the rumours without batting an eye. I want you and Mentuc to come home, now. Because I don’t know how long mum will be able to keep her mouth shut, and I’m really not sure what I’ll do when she starts talking again.”

Jon nodded seriously, having an inkling of what went down. He loved Nyna to bits, but it seemed that her habit of believing she knew she was always in the right and continuously regarding Leonne as a child had firmly come back to bite her in the ass.

“Pass the pad to Mentuc, please?” she asked. There was a cry of desperation in his daughter’s voice that broke his heart.

“Mentuc, I…” He heard her stifle tears. “Just talk to me for a bit, okay? I need to hear your voice.”

“I am here,” came his voice, more empathic than he had heard the entire day. “What happened? Are you in danger?”

Jon noticed certain inflections to words, and from the glimpses he caught of the datapad it seemed his daughter picked up on them.

“Only of losing my self-control. Stay with my dad, but hurry home, okay?”

“I’m on my way,” and the man put action to words, marching off at a surprisingly fast pace. Jon chased after him, gave a single thought to the machine they were leaving behind out in the open, before deciding that the blasted thing didn’t matter that much in the grand scheme of things.

And I don’t think the lad’s in a mood to waste time on steel with his heart aflame.

It did settle things for him internally. His son-in-law was too devoted to his daughter to ever go astray.

Which left him to wonder just why he had gone quiet earlier.

The door flew open and Mentuc stormed in, followed by a panting Jon. Onoelle, who had been angrily pacing about while a thousand different emotions tore her in every possible direction, had been sitting on a hair-trigger and leapt into his arms the same moment he got through the door.

“Voids above,” she growled in his chest, her body freely trembling as the emotions began to stream out of her now that she was secure in his embrace.

“I’m so fucking angry,” she cried, her tears flowing freely.

She didn’t see how Mentuc glared at her father when he tried to come closer, nor how her father threw a scathing look at her mother, before wilting upon seeing her that scared and hurt and moving to do the same for his wife that Mentuc was doing for her.

It was a long time before the hugs were finally broken off.

She tried sitting herself down on the couch, only to find Mentuc disagreeing with that attempt. She realised he had no intention of sitting himself down in a piece of furniture where he had to pretend to sit down. Not when he was ready to lash out at anything that threatened her. It was only when she was secured in his lap, as he sat down on the floor, his arms locking her in place and all danger out, that she realised that the Genesis had no concept of a mother. Or maybe he does, but he doesn’t care, the rogue thought came. He certainly never had one himself. Then she nestled herself deeper in his arms and decided it didn’t matter.

At the other side of the table, she saw her mother sit down next to her father on the couch, an arm around her shoulders and the other holding her hand. The woman was still trembling, and clearly terrified by how furious her daughter was, possibly augmented by Mentuc regarding her as if she was the reason his Onoelle was this hurt.

Strangely enough she felt her own anger abate rapidly, to be replaced by sadness. How could my own mother doubt me? she thought, the pain tearing at her heart. It must have been visible in her eyes, because the older woman averted her eyes in shame.

“Right,” her father spoke up, “Cow’s out of the mud. Mentuc. Did ya do, or did ya not, cheat on Leonne?”

Her mother’s mouth fell wide open at the bluntness, but Onoelle was grateful for it.

Then she burst out in a fit of giggles when her equally blunt husband replied with “Cheat? To love another woman?” He turned to her, waiting for her to confirm it. She gave him a nod.

He turned back to face his father and responded with a clear and definitive “No.” Then he turned back towards her, his head tilted. She smiled and tried to gesture to him, but his tight embrace limited her range of movement. The message still came across, however, and he leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. She knew she’d have a lot of explaining to do afterwards. She was glad for it. The thought of it distracted her from the here and now.

And from how a part of her enjoyed seeing her mother recoil at the signs of intimacy.

“Do you believe me now, mum?”

Nyna turned her face away.

That was a no. Her anger reared its head again.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Leonne. I don’t want you to be unhappy. But rumours like that don’t appear out of nowhere.”

That took the wind out of her sails. Her mother had a point there, hate it as she might. She thought about it for a while, before realising she really knew too little. “What are the rumours?”

Her mother seemed reluctant to speak, clasping her father’s hand until it turned white.

“Bunch of them float about,” he came to her rescue. “Folks say he’s sleeping around being the worst of it. They name plenty. Your friend, Jane. Miss Olva, bless her soul. Helena, because of course they’d be naming her. Some sick bastard even started a rumour with—” he fell quiet, rage choking his voice.

He didn’t need to finish it. She could finish the line of thought. Mentuc couldn’t, stars be thanked for his innocence in that.

“It didn’t start from that,” her mother suddenly interjected. “The first were that he met up with someone at night. A woman. Dressed like… One would in the bedroom,” she finished, keeping her words chaste.

She felt Mentuc’s embrace turned to steel.

“Mentuc?” she asked him, consternation filling her voice.

She found his face utterly unreadable, but his body language spoke volumes. Doubt rushed in. Followed by anger. Then fury. Then, suddenly, it all left her and she became calm again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and knew he was looking at her. There was something going on here, that much was clear. Otherwise he wouldn’t react that way. But he would not cheat on her. He had said he wouldn’t. And he didn’t lie. He couldn’t lie.

And she knew those rumours were fabricated.

Because there’s no way anyone sees Mentuc if he doesn’t want to be seen.

And the only thing going on was related to the surprise he was planning…

“Mentuc,” she finally asked, weighing her words carefully. “What’s going on?”

She saw him open his mouth, then close it again. Knew the gears in his mind were grinding. Felt his lenses dart around as they took in the presence of her parents.

Something was up. He did not have his daughter’s skill at reading the man, but it had been hard to miss the way Leonne had twitched in his grasp when the original rumour came up. Even so he was not quick to throw accusations towards anyone, and even less so given how utterly smitten the pair of them were with one another.

He had no need his eyes to see how much either of them cared for the other. They radiated it. Mentuc’s fiercely protective stare when he was holding Leonne, or the way she calmed down and melted in his embrace was more than proof enough to convince him.

Yet none of that explained the current conundrum. Clearly Mentuc was guilty of something. And for once his wife decided to not say a word and just watch from the sidelines. Going by the wrecked living room and the raw disappointment and anger his daughter was displaying, he had an inkling as to what might have caused her uncharacteristically demure behaviour.

He shifted his focus back to his son-in-law. The man was clearly lost for words, and Leonne was eyeing him inquisitively. It wasn’t a hostile look, which meant his daughter did not doubt him, but clearly she had questions.

“Do you trust me?” The words came so sudden he nearly missed them.

“Of course,” came his daughter’s immediate response. There had been no hesitation in that answer.

He saw Mentuc nod and consider something. Leonne seemingly did the same, and he recognised the subtle signs of two people being very close with one another having a silent conversation.

“Will I be angry with you?” she suddenly asked.

“I do not think so.”

A prolonged pause.

“Will I be happy, then?”

“I expect so,” came the response.

She nodded. Once. Twice. Then twice more in quick succession as she made up her mind. “Right. Let me up. I need to clean the room.”

He opened his arms and let her free and they both stood up, to her parents’ surprise. Then she turned around and poked her fingers hard into his chest. “For the record,” she stated, “this is starting to really, really piss me off. And you better have a good answer for me by the time this is all done.”

He nodded, and took a small step back. He looked at her quizzically for a bit, prompting her to grin and go “What?”

“Your father’s machine was left in the open. It needs to be put in a shed. Do you want to go get it with me? It will rain tonight.”

Jon felt his eyes widen. How had he—

“You go get it. I’ll help mum clean up.” His daughter turned around, bounded across the room in a single leap and pulled up his wife in a crushing hug. Literally. He heard her bones creak and the breath was audibly driven from her lungs.

“I love you, mum,” he heard her whisper. “But never pull that bullshit on me again. Either you will deal with me like an adult from now on, and accept what I say for true, or you won’t deal with me ever again.”

He could hear the tears in Leonne’s voice when she added a second part, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “Please don’t make me do the latter”, she begged. “I don’t want to cut you out of my life.”

Slowly, still trembling, Nyna’s arms came up as well and closed around their daughter, who finally lessened her grip. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” his wife replied, her own voice breaking with emotion. “I only wanted you to be happy.”

He averted his eyes and decided he might as well get some fresh air, give the two some privacy to make amends. He was about to call Mentuc to come with him, only to find the man gone already.

Somehow, after everything that had transpired that day, it didn’t even surprise him.