Aamkena Vesija, an upstart son-in-law

Once my consciousness escaped dreams stalked by diminutive apex predators, I opened my eyes towards Nerutaara's tender face. Framed by long lashes were the gemstones of her wide irises that framed a passage into the velvety abyss of her soul. Those pupils constricted into keen pinpricks, just as her smile widened.

"Good morning." Her fingers combed through my hair, reaching around enough of my skull to gain a firm grip. "I'm sorry, dear. Last night, I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

"Right... It's fine", I said, just as my body remembered what it had missed. "Sleep is rarely time wasted, especially if you need to rest for two."

"We could continue from where we left..." Her long index slid down my neck to my shoulder, between my pectorals, down underneath the blanket. She could manipulate my nerves as well as any gun.

"Ooh, what a virile response", she crooned. "A poor expectant girl such as myself might assume you intend to make her even more gravid."

"If I cou––"

A knock on the door preceded a chirpy call from Keramli. "Excuse the early perturbation, and good morning!" To my relief, she didn't barge into the room. "The master and mistress have returned, and the breakfast will be served shortly."

"Thank you! We'll be there", I yelled over my shoulder and turned back to the woman of my dreams. Her anxious frown spoke all I needed to hear. "It'll be alright, Neru."

Her gaze snapped into my and fixated with piercing intensity. "Are you sure?"

"Wha..." I brushed a lock of hair off her cheek. "Of course. I know who you are. And should you feel unsure, pretend that I am in truth as intimidating as my size might imply."

Smile crept on her lips. "My parents shan't find you intimidating, dear, I'm afraid."

"That is to be expected, when their daughter is already enough for me to handle." I patted her shapely buttock. "Let's get going. I am positively famished."

While I donned a simple morning suit of mollusc silk, Neru fretted over her own attire.

"It's just a breakfast", she hissed to herself and withdrew her hand from the heirloom fighting suit with ballgown characteristics. Though it was a relief of sorts to avoid seeing her in full Jaan panoply, a sense of disappointment crept into the back of my mind. Nerutaara had the potential for a certain heart-aching majesty. Mayhap a breakfast wasn't the situation for that.

The gossamer undergown clung to her skin, hiding little. Her advanced condition slouched her posture in a manner that emphasised the already callipygian proportions.

"Anything looks good on you", I murmured, as I wrapped her frame inside my arms.

The woman groaned in protest, yet she pushed herself against me and slapped the case holding the combat suit shut. When I clasped my hands around her belly, an odd but familiar sense of eager dread washed over me. I was anxious, yet Neru had the worse of it.

Though she didn't really need the assistance, I helped her into her oversized daygown. With her dexterity abundantly obvious in every movement of her fingers, she did her hair and makeup into a fascinating lack of obvious grooming: a feminine camouflage to hide the signs that her beauty ever had to endure sleep or hardship.

I took her offered hand and led the dame out into the corridor. Walking beside the woman, I found myself glad for the loose cut of my trousers. The time of agitated puberty had well passed me, yet that day I failed to shake off the juvenile heat. An aspect of the surroundings must have triggered the response in me, even if my wife was by far the choicest prize among the Jaan treasures on display.
'

A massive drape partitioned a much larger dining hall into a cafeteria of more cosy dimensions. Time had darkened the wooden surfaces of the walls into extension of the deep shadow, which the glowlight failed to dispel. Thick velvet draped the luxuriant iron furniture, the metal gleaming with meticulous polish around the still preserved black oxide. Strange that the Directory hadn't appropriated such a treasure for their artillery, but perhaps an old clan name commanded more respect than was fashionable to admit.

A group of elderly ––two married couples, I presumed–– already sat at their breakfast. Their accent had a distinct Outremer sharpness, which confirmed them for tourists. After exchanging brief greetings, I and Neru claimed a table near a narrow window towards the snowy forest.

We had to wait only a moment, before a young boy with huge anxious eyes brought us a pot of warm infusion. He hurried away before I could even thank him.

I took the opportunity to serve both of us. "Was that boy a relative of yours?"

Neru's thoughts snapped back to her head from the arboreal vista. "Not all Jaan are my relatives."

"I know. This one, however, did look particularly Jaan."

"Perhaps..." The word trailed into a long sip from her cup. "I was away for such a long time."

The doors opened in a whine of submission to let in the masters of the household. Even with the ample time since their arrival, Nerutaara's parent still wore hunting hides. As the pair approached, the luxurious and undoubtedly protective alloy-lacing became noticeable, as did the rows and rows of sharp needles glinting with hunger to be used.

Neru made a move to stand, and I hurried to help her up. The two Jaan aristocrats stopped a few paces from us. The narrow face of Neru's father showed barely any emotion: not a dull lack of interest but a detached confidence, which chilled me to the marrow. Though his stature reached only to my shoulder, he might as well have towered over me.

On the other hand, the matriarch's expression was the opposite of disinterest. Her gaze snapped from target to target to engulf the situation into the hard calculating embrace as merciless as any winter. Though she was much lither than my wife, otherwise the resemblance between the two women was uncanny. Even her age appeared indeterminably youthful.

"Is that how you greet your parents?" the matriarch asked. "With stupefied silence?"

Nerutaara lifted her eyes. Her hands remained rigidly at her sides. "Good morning, Mother, Father."

"Good morning, Daughter." The matriarch gestured us all to take a seat.

I let the women sit first. "My name is––"

"Shall you introduce us?" Every syllable of Neru's mother oozed refinement. Her accent was archaic enough to be a separate language.

"Ah... Erm..." Neru drummed her fingers against her lap. "These are my parents, Ekku Rytna and Zoviheena."

Both of them nodded, but only the matriarch spoke. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Frankly, the pleasure is all mine."

"And this is my hus–– fiancé Aamkena Vesija, a magister from Poalin, of archaeotechnology and medicine."

"Didn't you try to gain entry to that institution, Daughter?" Zoviheena helped herself to a cup. "To think that you two might have met already back then. Tell me, candidate Son-in-law, given the opportunity, might you have bedded our then-son?"

"Mother!" All demure insecurity burned off Nerutaara's eyes. The intensity well matched her mother's, a firestorm against a glacier. Stunned into disbelief, I looked at the father. A corner of his mouth shifted towards something of a smile.

"Dear, dear..." Zoviheena shook her head. "I'm merely teasing your potential husband. In truth, we do not disapprove a man courting you. Besides, as a daughter, you have already performed your duties better than you ever did as our son."

"I..." Neru's jaw muscles tightened and her hands curled into compact fists. She let out a sigh, and the tension left her frame. "Thank you, Mother."

"Though we are not particular to the name you chose for yourself."

"There wasn't exactly a third grandmother, whose name I could have appropriated."

"True. 'Nerutaara' is delicate enough, even if it has rather pedestrian associations. Of course, now that it's associated with the 'Slayeress of the Pylon', I'm sure that dreadful play shall soon be forgotten."

"I didn't kill the Pylon."

"But you killed Motsa. We are beyond proud of you."

Neru's gaze fell. "It wasn't exactly a duel, Mother."

"Taking a life is the same, ultimately, regardless of the means or circumstances."

A part of the wall swung open as a concealed door, and a maid and the boy from earlier hurried to bring us our breakfast. In addition of meaty pastries, we received small bowls of pristine white porridge decorated with spices and a dot of golden butter.

"Wait a moment, little Ryt", the matriarch called to the boy, who had already started to hurry away.

Neru's father grabbed the boy's shoulders and pulled him back to the table.

"Neru, this is your nephew", the matriarch crooned. "The son of Lytta, named after your father. Little Ryt, say hello to your aunt Nerutaara."

"Good morning, mistress aunt Nerutaara..."

"Such a well-behaved boy!" Zoviheena reached to tussle the boy's long curly hair. "Now that Lytta decided to handle the... guest business, her son has helped around the house. Alright, move along, little Ryt."

The boy gave us a sharp bow and ran from the hall.

"Even if it is servant's work...", the matriarch began. "It is good for him to learn that he shan't get anything in life handed to him regardless of his heritage. His father does not approve, but Lytta can be very stubborn when it comes to the raising of her children."

"Is she here?" Neru asked.

"Indeed she is with us, though at the moment she's on errands at the town. Financial matters."

A faint smile spread on Neru's face and didn't entirely disappear during the delicious morning meal. She remained rather taciturn, when her parents ––her mother, in all actuality–– pressed us about the events at the Pylon.

The matriarch pushed the remainder of her porridge to her husband. "Tell me, Vesija, how are economic prospect for a physician on the frontier?"

"Vesija is more than able to provide for us", Neru snapped.

"I hope 'us' includes more buns than the one currently in the oven", the matriarch said with a smirk. "I don't think I have anywhere near enough grandchildren yet."

Neru's face flared incandescent. I myself must have showed signs of mortification, as I found myself at loss for words.