Because archangelbeth asked me to link to this...

Just remember - none of this is set in stone, and if you get halfway through Jesus Christ and the Amazing Eastmancolor Testament and decide that everybody should refer to your character as "J.C." and that instead of casting the moneychangers from the temples he should just nuke them from orbit, well, you're allowed to do that, although frankly I think it changes the tone of the story a little.

The first lines of a fanfic that I'll never write.

Miles Vorkosigan can best be described as perpetually tip-toeing along a crumbling ledge. He must keep going to the point of exhaustion or risk falling into the abyss; and yet, whatever obstacles are in his way, he manages to dance around them in the nick of time, and he never fails to reach safety at the other end of the ledge. He is charming to a fault. He exercises the power of the scion of a Vor family and of the son of the former Regent to the Imperial throne. He has the ear of the Emperor and the chief of Imperial Security.

In three days, he will be dead by my hand - or I will be dead by his.