Good, I started, but I need them first and foremost. [ Her quiet war in this house, that she has been raging since the day she arrived, that she plans still about, even as his hand settles on her cheek. She leans into it, one slight soft breath before she pulls it down, turning his hand to settle flat to her stomach, her hand laying over his. ]
This child deserves better. [ Fierce and flat as she pushes forward, up onto her knees and then towards him - and if there is a metaphor for the predator she so easily becomes, she doesn't see it. She sees him, sees a child that will be theirs, and the future that is. ] I am Lady Vorrutyer, and it is my belly that carries the line he was so willing to butcher his son's own happiness over. I will not settle for other, I will not let him forget it.
[ Her fingers hold his, and already it's having an affect, not so harsh, the softness that will come when she - erg, gets so fat she cannot reach her own toes. He's the same as any Vor, and she expects any child of his won't be the least bit merciful to her for being such the littler. But even so, it's flat, determined, she'll take it all, do it all. She'll pick his father out of her teeth if need be before she ever, ever lets him have a say in anything to do with her children, and she will remind him daily who had done their duty - as he was so fond of calling it. ] I promised you that, do you not remember? That I would tear to pieces whoever led you to believe these things about yourself.
[ And broiling and bubbling in every moment that they fight, that Byerly and his sister deserved better. ]
[ Loud as the sound of a plasma shot, for all the words are quiet. ]
Oh -
[ And all the air rushes out of her. Shoulders falling back, softening, the short sharp exhale. Because when did she ever consider herself? That it might be what concerned him. Easier to fight but - she swallows. Moving carefully, before her hand raises up, coming closer in the space. Shifting the blankets the rest of the way off her, settling near to him. Letting him see her move, the way she tended a scared animal. She frames his face, rest her forehead to his and - there's that too, isn't there?
Not to push him, not right now. ]
You won't... you won't lose me. I am yours and yours alone. Whatever else might come of it.
No. [ He's ... deflecting again. Taken some time, taken getting to know that sharp way he flicks things off. Not very much like her, not so open, can count it, on one hand, the time she's seen him ever look like this. It might be easier for them both, if she did the same back. Say something sharp tongued in return - jealous of your own son already?
But it wouldn't take back what he had said, wouldn't change that look, so chokingly painful to know. Won't take the words back.
Not enough - not enough until she's sure, sure that he'll never think again that he might lose her. won't let him hide it away, either, even if he can't stand to let it see the light of day. Directs herself, hooking herself to slide into his lap, her knees settling to either side of his hips. Like that, like that, such quiet things do not have to reach so far out of them. Secrets like this, are best in corners, where she can protect him, like she promised. That tug of her own ribs apart to keep him there, if she could. Close to her own heart, that middle of herself that is his, now. Can't manage, so she settles for the closest that she can. Her arms over his shoulder, pressing her chest to his as she curls about him. Warm and sure and safe. An easy place where in the early hours, there is no staff, no family, no one at all to watch them and she can offer all of it to him.
Sometimes, she thinks, to be Vor, is to live life in these corners. These sharp turns to hide vulnerability, warmth, these mortal fears that they can not express. Save in places where no one can witness it at all. ]
Will you look at me? [ So simple a thing to ask, how hard it could be to do. ]
[ It's not easy, soon as she asks. Soon as she asks, he wonders what she'll see in his eyes. What vulnerability, what crushing hurt, what fear. He wants to stay hidden even from her, after all - doesn't want her to know how much she can hurt him, how much her hurt will wreck him. He wants to protect himself.
How is it he's already so wrecked by her?
He lifts his eyes, slowly, hesitantly, unhappily. Looks her dead in the face. His hands clench compulsively on her waist. ]
[ She cards her fingers through his hair - and there is no judgement, no hatred, not even smugness, but only such an unbearable happiness that as he turns his face up, like she couldn't miss it, not for anything. Like this was hers, and for it - for it she would wage a hundred wars, a thousand battles. Flicking between his eyes, like this, mapping that expression, knowing it for what it is. ]
Sometimes you look at me, but... I wasn't sure - [ sure he cared, sure what any of this meant. It would be wrong, wrong to ask more of duty than it already took from them. He had no want or interest in being bound. Neither did she, even if that freedom took different forms for them both. Wouldn't, and couldn't ask, just had to wait to see if he would be ready to give. ] - you are my love, my Byerly. For I do love you. Most ardently. Poison branches and all.
[ Let her pour and pour it out. Until she could burn every doubt out of him. ] This isn't the death of that. Nothing will be the death of that. [ Or of her. ]
[ His eyes drop again, his eyes coming closed. His adam's apple bobs. His voice is low. It isn't a relief, exactly - for relief is a feeling of lightness. This isn't anything of the sort. This is the opposite, as a matter of fact. A man without attachments is a free man; a man living a life of nihilism and contempt is relieved of all burdens. She's a weight on him, spiritually as well as physically. Drawing him down to the earth. Keeping him from his light and carefree life. He cares. ]
[ She doesn't know what she's expecting - not his face to fall, not that sheer heaviness that with something she is so happy to give. But - well, he would never be that kind of man would he? She must console herself that he had always be honest about that.
So she smooths her fingers down, over his shoulders. She has asked enough, at least for now. She trusts ever, that if it mattered, he would come to her. Letting them rest, as she perches back from him. Give him space to breath. ]
Well - aside from no more morning rides? [ And she is terribly miserable about that, but nor is she a fool. But it's an attempt at levity over something he hates her doing, grouching when she gets out of bed in the mornings. ] First, we will need to announce it. Whatever comes of that. I suggest a little latter, until I have found everything out of the doctors, and they have finished their regime for me.
[ She has been sitting long and quiet, with these plans, forming them, and she settles her hands to his upper arms, rolling back. Her belly flat, for now. ] Secondly, we need to start writing our wills. The minute this child is born, we become irrelevant to your family. So I need to make sure that before they start getting ideas, they do not think they will ever have a hand in influence him or her, or any of my money. [ It's harsh, unforgiving, but is too often done. As soon as a child is secured, the parents and their opinions become irrelevant. ] I suggest that a member of my family, or your sister, must be a second on all transactions to do with their inheritance in the event of our death.
Lastly - [ now her hands to move to her belly, smoothing over it, like she can't quite believe what she has been told to be true. A deep, deep breath. That's a life there, ] - I was thinking... blue, for the nursery.
[ He opens his eyes again, looking at her. There's no hint of lightness in his gaze, for all the levity that she's shared with him. Sign enough of just how huge this is for him - it might be the first thing he was incapable of laughing at. ]
Then...They told you that the child is a...boy? Blue, you said. [ No comments denying the prospect of his family getting ideas. His immediate family wouldn't, but someone like Richars? Entirely possible. ]
No. They don't know yet. Said I had caught it too early to tell... [ But she sets her jaw, stiffly and proud - the way she gets ever when she has put her mind to something. Flat open determination like this is just a matter of ] But I am sure we will have a son first.
[ Perhaps then, perhaps he will be happy with this then. ] Even so, I certainly always liked blue. [ Rather than the red and dark oranges of her house colours. She quite liked his a sight more than hers. ]
[ It's a relief, almost, to hear that sound. The last thing she wanted - and the only thing that had worried her endlessly once she got the news - was losing him entirely over this. ]
I'll hold off making you go to family dinners for a month, if it turns out to be a girl.
[ She drums her fingers idly on his shoulder, thinking up a suitable pleasure for herself. ]
You have to come for a morning ride with me. Every day for a week.
[ Just the one, for she can be a merciful tyrant, at least sometimes. But good - better than good. Easier, slowly taken breaths like she dares not trust it. Not quite yet. ]
[ She wriggles, bracing her knees against his side. ]
They will want to toast with you at least once after it's announced. I am afraid there will be no escaping that one either.
[ She might not be able to stomach much alcohol - and thank God, no one will expecting her to touch a drop now - but the rest of her family? Oh he wouldn't be able to flee from their eager happiness, either. Down right prolish in their excitement, at times. ]
[ A hum, sliding her fingers against into his hair with as little prompting as that, and her fingers are cooler. Light, if not quite as soft as they should be. But for his question, she reacts at odds to that steadiness, her nose turning up, turning away even as her hand doesn't even slightly detangle - a half bitten of protest that she isn't.
Except he had rather obvious proof that she couldn't make it half of what he did without ending up a giggling mess of too bold intentions - and even quicker to picks fights. ]
I used to watch them see who could down whole bottles of wine faster, if that serves as a measure?
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I can get you...other things. Things to compensate. I could get you control of the staff.
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This child deserves better. [ Fierce and flat as she pushes forward, up onto her knees and then towards him - and if there is a metaphor for the predator she so easily becomes, she doesn't see it. She sees him, sees a child that will be theirs, and the future that is. ] I am Lady Vorrutyer, and it is my belly that carries the line he was so willing to butcher his son's own happiness over. I will not settle for other, I will not let him forget it.
[ Her fingers hold his, and already it's having an affect, not so harsh, the softness that will come when she - erg, gets so fat she cannot reach her own toes. He's the same as any Vor, and she expects any child of his won't be the least bit merciful to her for being such the littler. But even so, it's flat, determined, she'll take it all, do it all. She'll pick his father out of her teeth if need be before she ever, ever lets him have a say in anything to do with her children, and she will remind him daily who had done their duty - as he was so fond of calling it. ] I promised you that, do you not remember? That I would tear to pieces whoever led you to believe these things about yourself.
[ And broiling and bubbling in every moment that they fight, that Byerly and his sister deserved better. ]
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You can't tear anyone to pieces if you're dead in a hospital bed.
[ And there's something raw, something honest, something desperate in his voice when he confesses: ]
I - cannot stand the thought of you dead. I cannot stand the thought of you hurting, my Lakshmi.
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Oh -
[ And all the air rushes out of her. Shoulders falling back, softening, the short sharp exhale. Because when did she ever consider herself? That it might be what concerned him. Easier to fight but - she swallows. Moving carefully, before her hand raises up, coming closer in the space. Shifting the blankets the rest of the way off her, settling near to him. Letting him see her move, the way she tended a scared animal. She frames his face, rest her forehead to his and - there's that too, isn't there?
Not to push him, not right now. ]
You won't... you won't lose me. I am yours and yours alone. Whatever else might come of it.
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Well. You're mine now. I suppose your attentions will be split soon enough, eh?
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But it wouldn't take back what he had said, wouldn't change that look, so chokingly painful to know. Won't take the words back.
Not enough - not enough until she's sure, sure that he'll never think again that he might lose her. won't let him hide it away, either, even if he can't stand to let it see the light of day. Directs herself, hooking herself to slide into his lap, her knees settling to either side of his hips. Like that, like that, such quiet things do not have to reach so far out of them. Secrets like this, are best in corners, where she can protect him, like she promised. That tug of her own ribs apart to keep him there, if she could. Close to her own heart, that middle of herself that is his, now. Can't manage, so she settles for the closest that she can. Her arms over his shoulder, pressing her chest to his as she curls about him. Warm and sure and safe. An easy place where in the early hours, there is no staff, no family, no one at all to watch them and she can offer all of it to him.
Sometimes, she thinks, to be Vor, is to live life in these corners. These sharp turns to hide vulnerability, warmth, these mortal fears that they can not express. Save in places where no one can witness it at all. ]
Will you look at me? [ So simple a thing to ask, how hard it could be to do. ]
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How is it he's already so wrecked by her?
He lifts his eyes, slowly, hesitantly, unhappily. Looks her dead in the face. His hands clench compulsively on her waist. ]
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Sometimes you look at me, but... I wasn't sure - [ sure he cared, sure what any of this meant. It would be wrong, wrong to ask more of duty than it already took from them. He had no want or interest in being bound. Neither did she, even if that freedom took different forms for them both. Wouldn't, and couldn't ask, just had to wait to see if he would be ready to give. ] - you are my love, my Byerly. For I do love you. Most ardently. Poison branches and all.
[ Let her pour and pour it out. Until she could burn every doubt out of him. ] This isn't the death of that. Nothing will be the death of that. [ Or of her. ]
no subject
So what happens next?
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So she smooths her fingers down, over his shoulders. She has asked enough, at least for now. She trusts ever, that if it mattered, he would come to her. Letting them rest, as she perches back from him. Give him space to breath. ]
Well - aside from no more morning rides? [ And she is terribly miserable about that, but nor is she a fool. But it's an attempt at levity over something he hates her doing, grouching when she gets out of bed in the mornings. ] First, we will need to announce it. Whatever comes of that. I suggest a little latter, until I have found everything out of the doctors, and they have finished their regime for me.
[ She has been sitting long and quiet, with these plans, forming them, and she settles her hands to his upper arms, rolling back. Her belly flat, for now. ] Secondly, we need to start writing our wills. The minute this child is born, we become irrelevant to your family. So I need to make sure that before they start getting ideas, they do not think they will ever have a hand in influence him or her, or any of my money. [ It's harsh, unforgiving, but is too often done. As soon as a child is secured, the parents and their opinions become irrelevant. ] I suggest that a member of my family, or your sister, must be a second on all transactions to do with their inheritance in the event of our death.
Lastly - [ now her hands to move to her belly, smoothing over it, like she can't quite believe what she has been told to be true. A deep, deep breath. That's a life there, ] - I was thinking... blue, for the nursery.
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Then...They told you that the child is a...boy? Blue, you said. [ No comments denying the prospect of his family getting ideas. His immediate family wouldn't, but someone like Richars? Entirely possible. ]
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No. They don't know yet. Said I had caught it too early to tell... [ But she sets her jaw, stiffly and proud - the way she gets ever when she has put her mind to something. Flat open determination like this is just a matter of ] But I am sure we will have a son first.
[ Perhaps then, perhaps he will be happy with this then. ] Even so, I certainly always liked blue. [ Rather than the red and dark oranges of her house colours. She quite liked his a sight more than hers. ]
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What, going to force the Y chromosomes into the fetus by sheer force of will? That's ambitious, even for you. I think it'll be a girl.
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I'll hold off making you go to family dinners for a month, if it turns out to be a girl.
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You have to come for a morning ride with me. Every day for a week.
[ Just the one, for she can be a merciful tyrant, at least sometimes. But good - better than good. Easier, slowly taken breaths like she dares not trust it. Not quite yet. ]
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Or perhaps your daughter will save you from your wicked wife and you will count your blessings in her every day.
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They will want to toast with you at least once after it's announced. I am afraid there will be no escaping that one either.
[ She might not be able to stomach much alcohol - and thank God, no one will expecting her to touch a drop now - but the rest of her family? Oh he wouldn't be able to flee from their eager happiness, either. Down right prolish in their excitement, at times. ]
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[ He lifts his finger to tap in his chin. ]
Will they bring out the good wine, do you suppose?
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For the first grandchild born of this generation? All of it, I suspect. Every last drop for a week.
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[ He captures her hand, bringing it to press against the warmth of his neck. Her fingers seemed cool. He's helping. ]
Well, that is an intoxicating prospect, forgive the pun. And are they better drinkers than you, little lightweight?
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Except he had rather obvious proof that she couldn't make it half of what he did without ending up a giggling mess of too bold intentions - and even quicker to picks fights. ]
I used to watch them see who could down whole bottles of wine faster, if that serves as a measure?
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[ He taps the tip of her nose. ]
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