Another fic for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ailis_fictive, who wanted a sort of missing scene from "Thirty," something to do with Aral's thirtieth, from Piotr's POV (and you get the bonus Piotr/Ezar, if not in any more detail than the original). I'm not sure how much sense this makes, but it was entertaining to write.
*
So tired of power games.
The disconnected thought fluttered into Piotr's mind, then landed with a thud, broken-winged, making its message literal. It was not a message graced with a pronoun; he couldn't quite manage to admit that he himself was the one exhausted by playing at one-upmanship (over it, beyond it, across the river and fleeing into the hills), but the only other man in the room was Negri, and when Negri was done with power games he'd be dead.
Perhaps he just didn't want to admit that Negri (and through him, Ezar) held the upper hand. It was true that Piotr had enough credit with the Imperium to ask Negri for favors; but when the favor was "spy on my son and make sure he isn't misbehaving himself, because he keeps evading my Armsmen" that tended to give the head of Ezar's Imperial Security plenty of room for preemptive strikes, or blackmail, or the snide looks that were the hardest of all to take.
Of course, by every other measure Negri was decisively outranked. He wasn't Vor; he was a little man who'd crept around and spied on the right people until Ezar noticed; he'd had the brains not to work for Yuri and he still possessed the cunning not to pay attention to what color the tabs in his collar were, but technically--
"Count Vorkosigan? Do you care to have me present my report?"
Piotr gave Negri a lordly wave, leaning back in his chair relaxed, as if he didn't care. "What did he get up to last night?"
"Drinking. To excess."
"It was his birthday," Piotr snapped back, stung at the disapproval. "If that's all…"
"Philosophizing. Loudly. In rhyme." And now Negri sounded amused, as if Aral were some kind of freak show. Piotr tensed, but didn't respond. "On the other hand," Negri went on, "he kept his liquor down and all his body parts inside his clothing, and his companions were unimpeachable officers and gentlemen, so all in all, a marginally normal night out for a Vor lord of his stature. Was that all? Sir," he added as a blatant afterthought.
"Did he say anything in all that poetry to offend the Emperor?"
"Oh, plenty, but no one but my man had the wits left to untangle it. Don't you care to know if he said anything to offend you?"
"I'm sure he did. I'm also sure I've heard it before. How about… did anything, um. Of a sexual nature occur?"
"I believe there was a plan to deposit young Vorpatril in one of the more salubrious brothels, but he was less able to manage his drink, so the enterprise was scrapped. Your son? No. I don't believe he's a patron of such establishments, as a general rule." Negri paused. "Or were you thinking of, mm, less professional, more convenient accommodation? Such as his friends and fellow officers?"
Piotr bristled, pointlessly. "Merely curious. None of my business, I'm sure. Well, I'm glad to know he didn't… cause any trouble. Thank you, Captain." He put his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to rise.
Negri's voice stopped him. "My lord Count," he said, and his tone was oddly gentle. "You have nothing to worry about. Matters have… altered, considerably, from where they were several years ago. I hadn't quite finished the report."
Piotr settled back down. "What?" he said, with no energy left to be other than blunt. "Did he screw somebody he shouldn't have, then? Just more quietly than he did that bastard Vorrutyer?"
"Commander Vorrutyer made an appearance at the Broken Sword last night, in fact," Negri reported. "He was drunk and offensive; he put himself in Captain Vorkosigan's way, accused and insinuated and did his best to provoke either a fight or… something else. Your son gave him nothing he wanted, and finally Vorrutyer threw a few last insults at him and left. Tail between his legs, if he'd had one."
"And Aral controlled himself?"
"Admirably." And that, coming from Negri, was a lot. "Though the rate of his drinking did increase, subsequently." He paused, then added, "He probably needed it."
"Ges Vorrutyer does have that effect. I had to drink more myself, the times I held back from punching him. What did he say?"
"Nothing that wasn't true, unfortunately."
Piotr laughed, bitterly. "I wasn't going to sue him for slander."
"No, that would be inadvisable." Negri waited until he raised curious eyebrows, then added, "He seems to know about your… liaison with the Emperor."
"My… dammit, man, that was years ago. In the middle of a bloody land war. And he wasn't the Emperor then; he was my aide-de-camp. What did you call it? Convenient accommodation."
"A long-standing military tradition, certainly," Negri said dryly.
"Well, it is. What the hell does Vorrutyer know? A few months on space patrol. Try years running guerrilla raids and sleeping in caves. You grab at… anything that makes you feel good. That resembles life." Piotr had a sudden flash of memory: Ezar, naked, standing in the sun by a river, the smooth young curve of his ass presented as bait for some Ceta who felt like slumming it with a Barrayaran, probably before slitting his throat. Ezar had done for him, instead; Piotr had never been so proud.
Though hearing about Aral standing down Ges came a close second. He'd never managed to tell Aral that it wasn't so much his preferences he minded as his damned awful taste. If he'd taken up with a better man, say Rulf Vorhalas (who'd probably made part of the drinking party last night), Piotr would have defended Aral's choice, as long as he also chose a wife who was willing to look the other way, stay at home and get on with having children.
But… God. Ges Vorrutyer. Slimy insinuating son of a bitch. Throwing it in Aral's face that his da had had it off with Ezar Vorbarra. He wondered what Aral had made of that; and he wondered if Aral had known, as Piotr had immediately, how Vorrutyer had found out.
"You looked surprised I didn't deny it," Piotr told Negri. "Like you'd… missed your stroke, or something."
Negri shrugged. "The Emperor has never denied the relationship either. There are still-living witnesses."
"Well, that's convenient for you. Though none of my men would be stupid enough to march up to Serg Vorbarra and tell him all about it. They know he might… misunderstand their intentions. And they've got no notion of playing with power the way you do. Because it is a game to you, isn't it? Move a piece, see how all the others react. Aral's just a pawn on the board. So's Ges. But I" -- Piotr stood up, gathered himself into the old fighting stance -- "I got to the last square a long time ago. You can call me whatever you want, but you can't checkmate Ezar while I'm standing in front of him."
Negri stared at him a moment, and then laughed. "We're on the same side of the board, my lord Count. All of us, all wearing the same colors. Black, for preference. But don't be so sure you know who's moving the pieces." He checked his chrono. "I'd get home to your son now if I were you. It's not every day a man begins his fourth decade of life; he'll want to be sobered up and ready to report for duty."
Piotr was being dismissed. He would have objected, but those were Ezar's chilly eyes looking out of Negri's weaselly face. So he merely nodded, said, "Thank you for the surveillance. It won't be required again," turned on his heel, and left, hoping he had imagined the smile and the look of pity lingering in the air.
ailis_fictive, who wanted a sort of missing scene from "Thirty," something to do with Aral's thirtieth, from Piotr's POV (and you get the bonus Piotr/Ezar, if not in any more detail than the original). I'm not sure how much sense this makes, but it was entertaining to write.*
So tired of power games.
The disconnected thought fluttered into Piotr's mind, then landed with a thud, broken-winged, making its message literal. It was not a message graced with a pronoun; he couldn't quite manage to admit that he himself was the one exhausted by playing at one-upmanship (over it, beyond it, across the river and fleeing into the hills), but the only other man in the room was Negri, and when Negri was done with power games he'd be dead.
Perhaps he just didn't want to admit that Negri (and through him, Ezar) held the upper hand. It was true that Piotr had enough credit with the Imperium to ask Negri for favors; but when the favor was "spy on my son and make sure he isn't misbehaving himself, because he keeps evading my Armsmen" that tended to give the head of Ezar's Imperial Security plenty of room for preemptive strikes, or blackmail, or the snide looks that were the hardest of all to take.
Of course, by every other measure Negri was decisively outranked. He wasn't Vor; he was a little man who'd crept around and spied on the right people until Ezar noticed; he'd had the brains not to work for Yuri and he still possessed the cunning not to pay attention to what color the tabs in his collar were, but technically--
"Count Vorkosigan? Do you care to have me present my report?"
Piotr gave Negri a lordly wave, leaning back in his chair relaxed, as if he didn't care. "What did he get up to last night?"
"Drinking. To excess."
"It was his birthday," Piotr snapped back, stung at the disapproval. "If that's all…"
"Philosophizing. Loudly. In rhyme." And now Negri sounded amused, as if Aral were some kind of freak show. Piotr tensed, but didn't respond. "On the other hand," Negri went on, "he kept his liquor down and all his body parts inside his clothing, and his companions were unimpeachable officers and gentlemen, so all in all, a marginally normal night out for a Vor lord of his stature. Was that all? Sir," he added as a blatant afterthought.
"Did he say anything in all that poetry to offend the Emperor?"
"Oh, plenty, but no one but my man had the wits left to untangle it. Don't you care to know if he said anything to offend you?"
"I'm sure he did. I'm also sure I've heard it before. How about… did anything, um. Of a sexual nature occur?"
"I believe there was a plan to deposit young Vorpatril in one of the more salubrious brothels, but he was less able to manage his drink, so the enterprise was scrapped. Your son? No. I don't believe he's a patron of such establishments, as a general rule." Negri paused. "Or were you thinking of, mm, less professional, more convenient accommodation? Such as his friends and fellow officers?"
Piotr bristled, pointlessly. "Merely curious. None of my business, I'm sure. Well, I'm glad to know he didn't… cause any trouble. Thank you, Captain." He put his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to rise.
Negri's voice stopped him. "My lord Count," he said, and his tone was oddly gentle. "You have nothing to worry about. Matters have… altered, considerably, from where they were several years ago. I hadn't quite finished the report."
Piotr settled back down. "What?" he said, with no energy left to be other than blunt. "Did he screw somebody he shouldn't have, then? Just more quietly than he did that bastard Vorrutyer?"
"Commander Vorrutyer made an appearance at the Broken Sword last night, in fact," Negri reported. "He was drunk and offensive; he put himself in Captain Vorkosigan's way, accused and insinuated and did his best to provoke either a fight or… something else. Your son gave him nothing he wanted, and finally Vorrutyer threw a few last insults at him and left. Tail between his legs, if he'd had one."
"And Aral controlled himself?"
"Admirably." And that, coming from Negri, was a lot. "Though the rate of his drinking did increase, subsequently." He paused, then added, "He probably needed it."
"Ges Vorrutyer does have that effect. I had to drink more myself, the times I held back from punching him. What did he say?"
"Nothing that wasn't true, unfortunately."
Piotr laughed, bitterly. "I wasn't going to sue him for slander."
"No, that would be inadvisable." Negri waited until he raised curious eyebrows, then added, "He seems to know about your… liaison with the Emperor."
"My… dammit, man, that was years ago. In the middle of a bloody land war. And he wasn't the Emperor then; he was my aide-de-camp. What did you call it? Convenient accommodation."
"A long-standing military tradition, certainly," Negri said dryly.
"Well, it is. What the hell does Vorrutyer know? A few months on space patrol. Try years running guerrilla raids and sleeping in caves. You grab at… anything that makes you feel good. That resembles life." Piotr had a sudden flash of memory: Ezar, naked, standing in the sun by a river, the smooth young curve of his ass presented as bait for some Ceta who felt like slumming it with a Barrayaran, probably before slitting his throat. Ezar had done for him, instead; Piotr had never been so proud.
Though hearing about Aral standing down Ges came a close second. He'd never managed to tell Aral that it wasn't so much his preferences he minded as his damned awful taste. If he'd taken up with a better man, say Rulf Vorhalas (who'd probably made part of the drinking party last night), Piotr would have defended Aral's choice, as long as he also chose a wife who was willing to look the other way, stay at home and get on with having children.
But… God. Ges Vorrutyer. Slimy insinuating son of a bitch. Throwing it in Aral's face that his da had had it off with Ezar Vorbarra. He wondered what Aral had made of that; and he wondered if Aral had known, as Piotr had immediately, how Vorrutyer had found out.
"You looked surprised I didn't deny it," Piotr told Negri. "Like you'd… missed your stroke, or something."
Negri shrugged. "The Emperor has never denied the relationship either. There are still-living witnesses."
"Well, that's convenient for you. Though none of my men would be stupid enough to march up to Serg Vorbarra and tell him all about it. They know he might… misunderstand their intentions. And they've got no notion of playing with power the way you do. Because it is a game to you, isn't it? Move a piece, see how all the others react. Aral's just a pawn on the board. So's Ges. But I" -- Piotr stood up, gathered himself into the old fighting stance -- "I got to the last square a long time ago. You can call me whatever you want, but you can't checkmate Ezar while I'm standing in front of him."
Negri stared at him a moment, and then laughed. "We're on the same side of the board, my lord Count. All of us, all wearing the same colors. Black, for preference. But don't be so sure you know who's moving the pieces." He checked his chrono. "I'd get home to your son now if I were you. It's not every day a man begins his fourth decade of life; he'll want to be sobered up and ready to report for duty."
Piotr was being dismissed. He would have objected, but those were Ezar's chilly eyes looking out of Negri's weaselly face. So he merely nodded, said, "Thank you for the surveillance. It won't be required again," turned on his heel, and left, hoping he had imagined the smile and the look of pity lingering in the air.
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Date: 2013-01-02 07:01 am (UTC)From:Damn. Thank you. Damn. (I'll try for coherence after I've slept.)
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Date: 2013-01-02 01:23 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 06:13 am (UTC)From:So, wow, you gave me a hella lot more than I was expecting here, and I'm still not all the way coherent, but...
I love the setup...speaking of self-indulgence. Piotr could no more stop playing power games at this point than he could stop breathing, but it's oddly touching to see him tired. It's just...ach, the off-balance here, that is so lovely (and by lovely I mean makes me both sorry for Piotr and want to smack him. You know, lovely...!) Going through the steps of playing for dominance by route, and Negri amused by it, which is just salt in the wounds...
"Piotr bristled, pointlessly." ...I love this line. And "Ges Vorrutyer does have that effect. I had to drink more myself, the times I held back from punching him."
"A long-standing military tradition, certainly," I like your Negri, wit and hidden sympathy and snark and sincere loyalty, and that last punch of a line about Ezar's eyes...phew.
And bonus Piotr/Ezar...yes, I did read the header, so I knew it was coming, but I did not expect you to tie it to Ges and Aral and swing it so hard. I'm still having enough mental whiplash that I'm waving my hands at the screen and hoping that will make the words happen, because you turned me being very silly into something...well, cool and powerful and sad. (I was totally charmed by the flashback, of course. And a bit broken by "He'd never managed to tell Aral that it wasn't so much his preferences he minded as his damned awful taste."...ouch.)
With extra bonus chess metaphors, and the Piotr Vorkosigan who will overthrow any damn Emperor he pleases, tired and old but still standing in defense of his Emperor (as Aral will do for Ezar, as Aral will do for Gregor, as Miles will do for Gregor...it's like hall of mirrors.)
And in however-freaking-many words I've just babbled at you (and if I stopped making sense please tell me and I'll try to unpack it), I'm still not sure I managed to say better than "Damn. Thank you. Damn."
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Date: 2013-01-03 01:02 pm (UTC)From:It seems to me that once you write Piotr/Ezar you have to relate it to Ges/Aral (given the right time sequence, that is), though they are, or can be, totally different relationships, and I think the war/peace differential is a huge part of that, and not just because of the convenient accommodation thing.
Chess in a hall of mirrors is a pretty good description of Barrayar overall. :)
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Date: 2013-01-08 02:34 am (UTC)From:I am actually becoming rather fascinated by Negri; he is so explicitly Simon to Ezar's Aral that it real makes me want to start poking at that relationship to see what makes it tick. (Which is always dangerous for me; one of my favorite writers has a story about a pet squirrel who takes a watch apart to get at the tick, with predictable results. I can analyze things into not-working, which drives me NUTS.) But back on track--yes, Negri's actually pretty sympathetic here. He gets off on making Piotr *twitch* (which...yeah. Making Pitor twitch is fun.) but takes no joy in causing real pain.
(argh not starting even to think about writing Negri's story until I finish Aral and Simon, blast it all. Not not not.)
And I think you are absolutely right about making the Ezar/Piotr and Aral/Ges connection--which makes me feel rather dense for not having made it before. I think my excuse is that the...the shape of those two relationships is so vastly different that the more obvious similarities were completely invisible to me.
...it is a rather good description, isn't it? Sometimes I wish I didn't think quite so...visual/spatially; it can be hell trying to wrench it into words. That one's pretty clear, though, even if it's all image in my head.
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Date: 2013-01-08 03:06 am (UTC)From:It is also interesting that the two spymasters are both not-Vor; the choice may be coincidental or it may be that it works better that way for some reason (I mean, in terms of job function rather than authorial character development, though that too).
So maybe the shape of those relationships is different too, despite being superficially similar.
I tend to see Ezar/Piotr (which of course isn't a canonical pairing but bloody ought to be) as a wartime relationship that didn't stay sexual but kept influencing their later bond; others see a different shape that might be more like Ges/Aral in some ways but is never going to map exactly, partly because of the sheer hunk of time that's involved and also because Ges and Aral never killed Cetagandans together. Just brain cells.
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Date: 2013-01-09 12:28 am (UTC)From:I have always entirely agreed with the reading that (at least in less politically stable times) the head of ImpSec needs to not be someone capable of building a political power base on his own--i.e. not Vor. (Gregor and Simon looking to Miles being the interesting exception, but then with Harouche and Allegre we're back to the proles again. It's quite pronounced.) And I'm not convinced that Chief of ImpSec was ever a plausible career choice for Miles, whatever Gregor might have wanted--it's more that it's Gregor's best chance to get Miles somewhere close.
>a wartime relationship that didn't stay sexual but kept influencing their later bond
That's certainly what's it is in my head. Not that I couldn't be argued into something else, at least for the duration of a story--I'm really good at suspending my disbelief--but I had never made the parallel before because aside from the superficial similarities, they're such wildly different relationships to me. (Oddly, I have an easier time pulling out the parallels between Serg/Ges and Piotr/Ezar--the one is a dark mirror of the other, of course, but...some of the shape of what's between them is the same, in a way that is just isn't in my head for Aral/Ges.) Piotr may be a bloodthirsty bastard, and he's probably a little mad for at least part of the time (Vashnoi...) but Ges is...nasty and spiteful and petty. I guess the easiest way to put it is that Aral and Ges is so clearly a deeply, deeply unhealthy and destructive relationship, and what we have of Ezar and Piotr in canon is respect and loyalty edging onto love, if with very VERY sharp edges (and possibly teeth), and I just cannot see any path by which the one can evolve into the other. Ges was destroying Aral, or Aral was destroying himself with Ges' help. Piotr made Ezar and Emperor and then stood behind him for over thirty years. I can't read those differences as just situational, though of course the different situations play in.
Er, not that there's not things to be gotten by looking at Ges/Aral and Ezar/Piotr together. Clearly there is; that was my starting point!
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Date: 2013-01-09 01:33 am (UTC)From:Also, the lines are definitely shapes, because there are complications beyond two-way paths all along. Like Cordelia's influence on Aral and Simon, for example. But to keep things simple the lines work. (I like the Ivan-and-Tej example. Huh! And that's something Miles threatened to do but didn't in the end. Just like becoming ImpSec Chief (well, he didn't threaten that, other people did, but...) Miles Vorkosigan: Deeply Conventional.)
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Date: 2013-01-02 09:42 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2013-01-02 01:27 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2013-01-02 12:45 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2013-01-02 01:30 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 05:00 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 01:05 pm (UTC)From: