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If I Would...	By : quietann Category: M through R > Miles Vorkosigan Saga Views: 1351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Miles Vorkosigan Saga, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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2
Ges knocked lightly at the door of his father's study. A gruff "Come in!" beckoned him.
The Count was sitting in a large, comfortable chair, with his feet propped upon an ottoman. "How are you today, Sir?" Ges asked.
"Ah, my gout's up but other than that, not too bad." This was actually better than usual, Ges realized. He was lucky to catch his father in an apparently good mood. The man had seemed lost, ever since the Countess's unfortunate and unusual death.   The old Count had been publicly embarrassed, of course, but not privately surprised; Ges knew that his parents had had a surprisingly liberal understanding about extramarital liaisons. But over the months since her death, his father had fallen into a deep funk, and except for tending to a bare minimum of District business, spent most of his time holed up here, or in the equivalent room down in the District.
"So. I've barely seen you since you graduated. Are you up to no good, young lout of mine?" This was said with much affection; the Count loved all five of his children and showered them with good-humored teasing.
"So far, Ops isn't troubling me. I've been pondering my sister."
"I've been thinking of her much myself. She's a headstrong girl, sometimes even a bit wild. Knows the value of her beauty, and might not put it to the best uses."
These were understandable concerns, and Ges was encouraged by the direction his father seemed to be heading. "Would marriage help with that? Help settle her down?" Not that he expected his sister to become pious and pure once she was married -- but if she gave the right impression...
"Well, there is never any guarantee, look what happened to your mother and me, and the girl is haunting me with how much she's like the Countess. But I should like to see her married off before I'm too old to enjoy the wedding -- or before one of you is lighting the offering at my funeral, for that matter. You boys, you'll find your wives sooner or later, and have your fun in the meantime. But she ... she's my only daughter. And it's different with girls, one worries about them more. It's too expensive for a girl to have her fun, if you know what I mean."
Ges nodded in agreement with all of this, though his father's predictions of his own mortality were disturbing. But he was not here to argue with his father over when the man might expect to die.
His father gave a deep sigh, and continued. "Your aunts are pestering me about a match for her. But there are few young men, I think, who could hold her without breaking her spirit. I don't want her to marry into misery."
Ges's heart pounded so hard he was worried his father might notice, but since when had he been handed such an opening? "Have you considered Aral Vorkosigan?" he asked. There it was, out on the table...
"In fact, he's close to the top of the list. We Vorrutyers have been marrying Vorkosigans for generations, when we haven't been marrying Vorbarras. Aral's grandmother was one of my aunts... another aunt married Emperor Dorca. Hm. I should say that, perhaps, the Vorrutyer family has been supplying the Vorkosigans and the Vorbarras with style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">brides for generations. They do not offer much in return, for you boys, though at one point I'd hoped your elder brother would marry Aral's sister, such a nice girl she was, back before mad Yuri..." Ges's father paused and shook his head sadly. " -- implemented that mad plan of his. But it's good for our family, though perhaps we ought to marry in not quite so frequently. Our girls bring a certain... spark ... but they also can bring trouble."
The Count sighed again, and shifted his weight. "Could you bring me a dose of that medicine, the one in the brown bottle?" The bottle contained a strong painkiller, so Ges now knew what was making the old man so garrulous tonight.
He swallowed the proferred medicine and made a face before continuing. "So tell me, son. You know Aral Vorkosigan better than anyone, having lived in his back pocket for the past three years. What sort of a man is he?"
The question shook Ges out of his complacency. This seemed to be the best opportunity to present Aral in a good light... Aral, who'd fought with him and fucked him just a few weeks before, who loved him still, he was almost sure of it. And now had disappeared into the off-planet military without a single word of farewell. style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">Because I am too painful for him.   But Ges's best, most private view of Aral wasn't meant to be shared with others.
He fell back on stereotypes. "Sir, Aral's honorable, he's driven -- he'll surpass his father in the military, I'm sure. He drinks, but not too much, and he doesn't do stupid things. He doesn't chase women..." style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">And I'm not telling you why.   "He's good at settling conflicts, at getting people to work together. In school, the other cadets were drawn to him for his character, more than for his family name, as illustrious as it may be." Ges stopped. He didn't want to overdo it, and furthermore, the more he said, the worse his own pain over Aral became.
His father eyed him thoughtfully. "That's quite a recommendation. You're fond of him, it seems."
"He's... he's my best friend," Ges stammered out.
"Well, never mind that. It's your sister we're matching up here, not you."
style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">Thank god Aral taught me how to keep my face straight when my secrets get thrown in my face.   It seemed that Ges's father style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">knew . He hoped that his father thought, just like Aral did, that marriage was a cure for certain "bad habits" one might acquire while young. Ges was a little surprised that his father hadn't been pressuring him towards marriage -- but he was correct that girls paid a higher price for their vices, so it made sense that his sister had greater priority in his father's plans.
"I do have one concern," the Count said. "Aral's father, Piotr, seems to think not very much of him."
Ges chose his words carefully. "No disrespect meant to you, Father, but when a man comes to think of his sons as the heir and the spare, and the heir is lost, the spare might take some getting used to. And Aral and his father are not come to the end of that issue yet, I think; the older son was the light of everyone's eye." A phrase borrowed from Aral, one of the times he'd been despondent over Piotr's unbending criticism. "But Aral works diligently on his side of things, piling up achievements for his father's approval. And... it's not like Count Vorkosigan has much choice, really, because Aral's the only son he has."
"Hm. I see your point. I'd just not want the issues between father and son to spill over into your sister's marriage, is all."
"I think... Sir, it's a good match. Offhand, I can't think of a better man for her, in fact. And it sounds like you'd have approval from the distaff half of the family." This last was very important, Ges knew, because marriage arrangements were women's work. And his father couldn't be counted on to push through a match if the female relatives balked. "But given the potential unhappiness at Vorkosigan House, perhaps you could offer the young couple a few private rooms here, so there would be some separation between Aral and Piotr." style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">So I can keep watching....
"Hm. Yes, your sister's bedroom has a couple rooms adjoining it that would make a nice private suite for them, and maybe even their first child or two. And if they were to have a daughter... well, Crown Prince Serg will need a wife someday. So I should engage the services of a Baba?" style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">
style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">Just make sure the Baba reveals that distant plan to Count Piotr.   "Absolutely, Sir."
Ges had purchased his sister and Aral a set of very expensive, fine, soft sheets; he added it to the growing pile of gifts for the engagement party, which also served as Ges's sister's birthday party. It was only the second time Ges and Aral had seen each other since the Emperor's ball, and Ges felt smug when he saw Aral's occasional anguished glances in his direction. But it was not like Ges was unaffected; he occasionally had to fight back memories of their time together, and just barely managed to stay focused on the party. Aral and his sister were a bit awkward with each other, as would be expected in any arranged match between two young people who had been acquainted, but probably never anticipated that their elders would arrange for them to marry. No one but Ges and Aral, and possibly Count Vorrutyer, knew that the awkwardness was potentiated by the tie between the brothers-in-law to be.
The room, a large parlor, was crowded with relatives and friends. The two Counts, Vorrutyer and Vorkosigan, sat together and sipped at the excellent wine the latter had provided for the party. More was promised for the wedding. His sister's giggling girlfriends brought each gift to her and Aral to unwrap, while Count Vorrutyer's secretary made a list of each gift and its giver for the expected thank-you notes. Ges's sister had complained to the man in advance of this daunting task, until he reminded her that she would be on her way to being a Countess, and what good would a petulant Countess be? "Aral Vorkosigan deserves better," he'd said, and that settled things. Ges supposed that his sister, in her own strange way, intended to be a devoted wife.
The party was marred only once, luckily late in the evening, when the guests had had enough Vorkosigan wine that they could laugh it off. Aral's cousin Padma and Ges's two younger brothers Yves and Patrice, all decidedly wending their way through the goofy stages of boyhood, decided to set off firecrackers under the chairs occupied by the stodgiest guests at the event -- though some underdeveloped sense of self-preservation kept them away from targeting either Count Vorrutyer or Count Vorkosigan. Their prank caused the elderly Countess Vorhalas to faint, luckily not style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">dead away. The boys scampered out of the room with a trail of Armsmen chasing after them. The Countess recovered, but not so quickly as to miss getting fussed over, and the party went on.
Towards the end of the ceremonies, Ges's sister finally reached his gift. "Oh, Ges, what a marvelous present!" his sister cried out, as she shook out one of the sheets and rubbed it across her face. She turned to Aral and held the sheet out to him. "Feel how soft that is!" Aral took the sheet and touched it to his face, and nodded stiffly. "Only three months and we'll be able to use them, too!" This made Aral blush furiously.
His sister reached for Ges's face and covered it with kisses, as she'd done when she was younger. Ges ought to have found this arousing -- he certainly had at one point, and that had been when he'd stepped away from her a bit, preferring only to watch her in secret. At about the same time, the Vorrutyer House stableboys had been replaced with stablegirls, and she'd sulked for weeks. This was the sort of behavior that had caused the Count their father to label her "a bit wild."
His sister threw the sheet so it hung between her shoulders and his, forming a shade between them and the other guests. She leaned forward slightly, to give him a full view of her cleavage. In the background, Ges heard his father chuckle as one of his aunts said, "Don't you remember how they used to play 'tent city' with old sheets when they were little?" as his sister gave Ges a smile that communicated one thing: style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">I know you've been watching me. And this smile did arouse him, as it was clearly meant to. But his sister simply pulled the sheet away from them and handed it off to a servant, and moved on to the next present as if nothing had happened.
He thought about his birthday gift for her, carefully wrapped and waiting for her on her vanity, with a little card labeled Personal to warn others away. It was not suitable for public viewing -- a package containing a few toys and potions, and a little book of instructions for their use, purchased from an exclusive and well-hidden local boutique. Some of the items were quite deliberately selected as Aral's known favorites. Ges now had no doubt that his sister would know exactly how to use this gift, both for herself and for Aral. If he had his brand of depravity, he thought, she more than matched it with her own.

Several days later, Ges joined Aral at an exclusive restaurant, one of the few of its kind that was well off the usual Vorish circuit. There had been a last-minute crisis at Ops, and traffic from there to the restaurant had been horrible because of an accident on the Star Bridge. When Ges arrived, he was further surprised to be escorted to a private room. Aral looked up and commented, mildly, "You're late." He must have seen Ges wince, because he stood and clapped Ges's shoulder, chuckling, "It's OK. If this wedding has you in half the panic it has me, you've earned an excused tardy."
Once the waiter took their drink order and left, Aral stood up and pulled Ges into a hard embrace. No kisses, but everything in the gesture conveyed the same wants. Ges found himself matching Aral in his own way, or perhaps surpassing it, by slipping his hands down Aral's back and pulling Aral's hips towards his. By Aral's raised eyebrows, followed by a tender sigh, Ges knew he'd conveyed his own message in return.
After a long interval during which they stood completely still, arms wrapped around each other and seemingly poised on the edge of action, they sat again. Ges wanted the mystery solved. style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">Is he breaking things off with my sister? Is he not breaking things off with her but finding a way to have us both? Is he going to tell me to make up some reason to miss the wedding, so I won't distract him? Aral tented his hands and watched silently, until Ges ran out of patience. "So what's this all about, and how the hell can you afford this on an Ensign's pay?"
"It has to do with the wedding; my father's picking up the check." There was something in Aral's tone that said style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">don't press me on this.
Aral remained evasive, saying little more throughout dinner; they chatted companionably about their respective Ensignly duties. When dessert arrived at last, Aral asked the waiter to leave them be for a while. Ges was in the middle of a bite of cream cake when Aral spoke again. "I would like you to be my Second at the wedding."
Ges spluttered, spraying bits of pastry and cream over the table. Aral gave him a saturnine look as he expressed further astonishment. "What? You want me to... what? It's ... obscene. Twisted."
"Some would say that about the fact that you've sent me your sister in the first place. After all that you and I had with each other..."
style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">OK. He knows I'm the baba. But what does he want, really?
"I would disagree," Aral continued. "I think it would be a highly symbolic gesture, though the symbolism is known only to us. A very final way of severing the ... less acceptable things between us."
style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">I'll let you believe that. But we are not done with one another, not anywhere close.
After the dinner, Ges went to visit his sister in her rooms, just to give her the news and say goodnight. She was in her dressing gown, though her hair was still done up from her evening out, bent over her writing desk with a stack of flimsies. A maid, the new one sent from Vorkosigan House, sat nearby, as did the Count's secretary. Ges scanned the room and was relieved that his private gift to her was missing from her vanity; he hadn't really considered the fact that a young woman of his sister's social stature would forever be surrounded by maids and older ladies playing the duenna, especially now that she was engaged to the Emperor's grand-nephew.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, as her pen wobbled on the flimsy and snapped. "I hate this!" Ges grinned at her as she realized that he was there, and that he'd heard her swearing.
"Thank you notes?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied petulantly. The secretary raised an eyebrow at her, and she made a concilatory gesture to him, before announcing, "Haverman, Miss Elisa, maybe this is a good time to take a break; I'd like to speak privately with my brother."
After they'd left, his sister turned the key in the lock. "There, we'll be undisturbed for a bit. I'm so happy you came!"
"Well, then, I have good news for you. Aral has asked me to be his Second at the wedding."
"Maybe he wants to thank you for picking him a good wife," his sister said. But perhaps she caught a little of his uneasiness, as she asked, "You did say yes, I hope?"
"Oh, of course. You are two of my favorite people. Anything I can do for you..."
"Ges, even leaving those naughty presents for me?" face="Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif">-- she giggled -- " face="Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif">I don't understand why you think we'll need them."
"Aral's going to be a very loyal husband, I can tell you. And he'll expect you to be a loyal wife. So, you'll want a little variety, don't you think? A nice massage with some good oil, a tickle with a feather..."
"Oh, you're wicked!" she exclaimed. "But won't he be suspicious of me, just for knowing about those things?"
"If he is, you can just tell him one of your lady friends suggested it. Preferably someone with a few more years as a married woman, maybe Lady Vorpinski?" This was one of his sister's best friends, a lively young woman whose husband, in male company, had professed her to be astonishingly creative in bed.
"Oh, you're right! Clara would talk to me about it... in fact she already has!" Ges's sister blushed, with a sort of pretend vulnerability. Ges thought, for a moment, of how the social codes of the Vor, so publicly upstanding, were held together with a web of private gossip. He'd heard more than a bit about his sister, how she was no innocent maiden...
His sister reached out and caught his hands. He was distracted from thinking about her reputation further when she passed her lips across his knuckles. And tingling tongue, leaving just the tiniest glistening spots. She let go, looked up at him wistfully and said, "Ges, darling, you know I'll be married to your friend soon. But before then..." She lifted her chin towards the corner of the room, towards the grate he'd watched her through so many times.
"I'll be a virgin on my wedding night," she said firmly. "But I thought maybe, before it's too late, you'd like a taste..." With a little shrug, the dressing gown slipped off her shoulders and into a silken puddle around her feet.
Ges stared. He couldn't do anything else, with that much beauty less than an arm's length away. She was naked, luscious, with a little red flush spreading across her chest and her eyes sparkling. She reached for his hands again, and pulled him in close. He drew in towards her warmth, and as she tipped her face up for a kiss, he seemed to split, with some part of him outside his body, watching himself push towards her...
She is slipping a hand down, between our hips, down to my groin. I am moaning, I want her so much, I am raising a hand, cupping her breast...
...but suddenly I cannot breathe.
I stumble back, the sensation is like drowning. I can't get any air, there's a horrible pressure on my chest, I am wet with sweat and my every nerve is on fire. I crash into the wall, next to the open closet door. I am sure that I am dying.
"Ges, I only thought you'd want me...." The watching Ges was gone, leaving only terror. He slammed the door against the rest of what his sister was saying as he fled, and passed through the next door into his room, where he collapsed onto his bed, gasping...
Finally, when he felt nearly strong enough, he shook himself and sat up. His heart was pounding out a rhythm: They. Both. Want. You. They both want you. Theybothwantyou... The panic came back, this time with waves of nausea. He put his head down to his knees and let it pass.
He recalled Aral's words. How they would "sever the less acceptable things between us." style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">You want less acceptable, Aral, I could show it to you... And decided that he could never tell Aral what had happened, never bring him into it. And for all that the two people he loved the most so clearly returned his love, he had never felt so alone.

The wedding was gaudy and elaborate, as was appropriate for the offspring of two highly-placed families. Vorrutyer House was cleaned and decorated, the servants supplemented with hired help, and a selection of ImpSec guards going undercover in the same smart uniforms as the other staff. Over three hundred guests were in attendance; though Emperor Ezar had sent his regrets on account of some recently-discovered plots against his life, Prince Xav, his half-brother and right-hand man, was there, representing the Imperium, along with his Betan wife. Of course they would have been there regardless, as Aral's grandparents. Ges wondered, idly, if Aral missed his mother more than he and his sister missed their own. Probably. Losing one's mother in a bloody, politically-motivated tragedy would inspire such feelings more than having one's mother found dead in her lover's arms.
Before the ceremony, Ges's sister approached him, reached up, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her gown was blush-pink, fitted to the waist and laced down the front, and daringly low-cut enough that he could only imagine the arguments that must have preceded its purchase. "How do I look?" she asked him, with a grin. She knew what he'd seen as she had stretched up to him.
"Absolutely edible. Your new husband has much to look forward to." He'd found that it was easy to slip back into light flirtation with her, as if she had never offered herself up to him. And she had not pursued this idea any further. style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">Nonetheless, you know that I know that you know... "Now, I need to see to Aral. And the next time we speak, you'll be his wife." Ges smiled and headed for the groom's chamber.
Aral was withdrawn and solemn as they readied themselves for the wedding, only occasionally laughing at Ges's light commentary. His reserve cracked, only a little, when he asked Ges to take a knife with a jeweled handle from the sideboard, a gift from his father, and tuck it into Aral's boot. It was just before they faced the crowd, in the last moment they had alone with each other. When the knife was placed, Ges did not stand up immediately; instead, he looked up, and quietly asked Aral, "Is this what you want?"
The look on Aral's face said everything Ges needed to know. How many times had Ges gone down on one knee before Aral, and what had usually followed? It was a well-remembered, intimate gesture, between them. But a moment later, Aral had masked himself completely, ready for his bride.
After the ceremony, there was the customary feast, with drinking throughout and dancing afterwards. For some reason, neither of these much interested Ges. He was in an odd mood; something angry whined at the back of his brain, but he tried to ignore it.
Late in the evening, after far too much alcohol, Ges snapped. He found Aral and sidled up him. "Don't drink too much, now. My sister is so looking forward to this night, her first time with a man. We both know what goes first when you get potted. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"
It was a nasty remark, but not nearly as bad as what Ges really wanted to say -- or do, as any hope he had that Aral would keep him, with or without the marriage, seemed to fade. Aral reddened, set down his wineglass, and stalked away without saying a word.
Midnight, by tradition, was the designated time for the newlyweds to depart for their bedchamber. Everyone watched as Aral swept his bride off her feet and they ascended the stairs out of the ballroom, and the low hum among the guests signaled sexual anticipation as much as anything. As Ges raced up a side staircase towards his room, he realized that he would get to watch what some likely none-too-small proportion of those guests wished they could. Not so long ago, they all would have waited just outside the bridal chamber, listening intently and cheering when they knew the deed was done. These days, the custom had gone underground; much Barrayaran pornography centered around the deflowering of the virgin bride on her wedding night. But a man could still purchase the priveledge of taking the virginity of a lower-class girl, if he had enough money and knew where to ask.
Ges arrived well ahead of Aral and his bride, and got settled in his little chamber. As he waited, he pondered the situation. It struck him, in contrast with his attitudes toward Aral, that for all that he enjoyed watching his sister, that he could never style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">do anything with her. He supposed that his panicked response to her advances proved that there was an incest taboo, after all.
The happy couple arrived at last, and his sister laughed at Aral as he carried her to the bed and laid her down on her back. He was murmuring to her, burying his face in her chest, clearly eager. And she reached up to him just as eagerly, unbuttoned his jacket, and helped him strip off his tunic. Then she pushed him up and motioned him to stand at the side of the bed, and she swung herself around so her dress bunched across her thighs and, legs wrapped around his knees, she sat before Aral to undo the buttons on his trousers -- with her teeth. It was an exact move Ges had used previously -- and he no longer cared to know where she'd learned it -- minus the dress of course, but Aral didn't react with the ardor Ges would have expected. Rather, he stepped back from her, and looked away. Haunted, if Ges knew Aral's expressions well enough.
A moment later, his sister gasped as Aral drew the jeweled knife from his boot and pushed her back down on the bed. Ges had a terrible time staying silent, as all the color drained out of her face and she trembled with fear. But Ges's slight relaxation matched hers when he saw that Aral was only using the knife to carefully cut the lacing on his sister's dress, and then to rip through the layers of underslips until her body was completely revealed. When Aral was done, he pulled the slips away and tossed the knife aside, and she took a deep shuddering breath as he removed the rest of his clothing.
It seemed almost sickening to Ges, that his sister would lose her virginity laid out upon her wedding dress. And that knife surely had some sort of deeper symbolism. But she recovered her courage as Aral fell upon her once again. At the point of consummation, she turned her head towards the grille on the wall and smiled, a secret smile clearly meant for Ges. style="font-style: italic; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">She knows.
Then her smile became a grimace of pain, and Ges had to turn away, his eyes tightly closed. For the first time in his life, he could not watch. It just hurt too much... not to watch his sister, but to watch Aral. He put his hands over his ears and tried to shut everything happening in the next room out of his brain. A lump formed in his throat, and it took all his will to keep from breaking into sobs. So Aral still held him, just as he still held Aral. And she held him too, in a way. After a long while, he opened his eyes and saw Aral and his sister curled up and dozing together on the bed. It was over.
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If I Would...