Tavi of Calderon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
student_of_impossibility) wrote2015-02-20 12:39 am
student_of_impossibility) wrote2015-02-20 12:39 am
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[OOM, Garrison] The Need for a Break
Amara and Bernard exchanged a look and silently, mutually agreed to stay behind as Riva, Attica, and a couple of their commanders left the room. This was nearly the last of the private sessions Octavian had been holding throughout the day. They had stayed through all of it, being so familiar now and silently reinforcing the shift in power.
As Ehren glanced down at his list, about to discuss the next one, Amara watched Tavi practically sprawl in his chair. Even knowing him since the end of his childhood, the shift was astonishing. “I have some time before the next, right?”
“Ah, yes. About twenty minutes.” Ehren shifted awkwardly.
“Good.”
Bernard laughed outright. “Could be worse. The politicians haven’t been in the room yet.” Amara had been wondering the same thing.
Just how young Tavi really was came to the fore in his grin. “By design. As long as I keep it military and spontaneous, they don’t get a chance to barge in.” He sank lower into his chair. “I need a dose of something reasonable before tomorrow.”
She exchanged a surprised look with her husband. That the First Lord would admit that to anyone was more than a little surprising, even after Gaius Sextus’ shocking openness with them in the last year of his life. Tavi had always had firm opinions about family, though. It was likely Bernard’s good influence. “Is there any way you could skip—”
Tavi was already shaking his head. “No, I’ll finish the meetings. What I need is dinner. Good dinner with family—and conversation without any of the war or politics.” Amara’s eyebrows shot up as he huffed at the obvious and totally silent implication that no one entirely believed that was even possible.
As he spoke, the door opened unceremoniously and Kitai walked in entirely unannounced. Tavi reached for her without seeming to think about it, Amara noted with amusement. She had heard they were finally and formally engaged. The news hadn’t quite spread yet, though. Everyone in the know who wasn’t utterly shocked—no one, really—anticipated the reactions with eagerness.
Kitai especially had an almost bloodthirsty delight with the prospect. The collective hysteria at the First Lord marrying a non-human entirely fit her sense of humor. Tavi’s wasn’t quite as pronounced—but Amara had been hearing stories about his surprisingly sadistic sense of humor. She almost felt sorry for some of the less abrasive ones.
“He says this,” Kitai said smoothly, “and the next breath will be about it again. There is an obvious solution to this, Aleran.” They all looked at her with some surprise, and the Marat young woman rolled her eyes. “Invite the whelp. Politics will always bore whelps, and they will change the subject. Doroga will do so too. Aleran politics are too mad to dwell on long.”
For a moment Amara didn’t grasp her meaning. Understanding dawned. Doroga was obvious after a brief thought, of course, as Tavi’s future father-in-law. The other possibility hadn’t even occurred to her. “You mean Masha?” she asked as Bernard blinked.
She knew that look. Doroga often wore it. It spoke volumes about the Aleran propensity to—in their eyes—state the obvious as if surprised. “Clearly. I have not met many Aleran whelps. And I should meet her.”
Tavi tilted his head slightly. “She’s Rook’s daughter, right?”
Despite herself, and all her knowledge of Tavi’s character, Amara couldn’t help feel a little strain. Rook’s cover had once been Gaelle, a Cursor trainee alongside Tavi and his year-mates—while she has still been Kalarus’ chief Bloodcrow. He hadn’t seen her since before her defection. More, Amara had no idea if he was aware she was Brencis Minorus’ daughter. Kalarus had been involved in Princeps Septimus’ murder, tried to murder Isana more than once, kidnapped Tavi and Kitai once, and Brencis had outright tried to kill Tavi while they had still been in school.
He had never been the type to hold that kind of grudge against an innocent, of course—but there was painful history. She hadn’t even considered how it might affect the dynamic.
Bernard apparently agreed. “Your cousin hasn’t met you,” he noted. They hadn’t officially adopted Masha quite yet, but it was a given. His voice didn’t quite carry emphasis, or a reminder, but something lurked there all the same.
“No,” Tavi said warmly, “she hasn’t. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to consider it. It might be late, but would you bring her, please? I’ll love meeting her.”
The warmth washed over Amara. She smiled not only with relief but with genuine, pure pleasure at his, and Bernard smiled with obvious approval. She hadn’t seen Tavi since before the exhausting trek through Kalare; he hadn’t seen his nephew in even longer. Some things, however, simply hadn’t changed. If not even the war and his new position could change it, nothing would. That was more heartening than many things could have been.
She still wasn’t sure if he knew about Masha’s past. She rather doubted it, as it was his job to know as much as he could. But if he was, it clearly didn’t occur to him to care. Or else if it did, he’d discarded it without a thought.
“Besides,” Kitai followed on his heels barely a moment between them, “I have heard Masha likes horses. That is far more sensible than many Alerans who aren’t whelps.”
If Tavi had seemed somewhat irritable and tired, it had entirely vanished under that wide smile. Amara and Bernard exchanged another glance. It might be late, but she’d been behaving remarkably well under the strain of the war. “We’ll bring her,” Bernard confirmed. “She can stay up a little longer, and go to bed after.”
The First Lord straightened in his chair, still beaming. “Wonderful. Full family dinner. Ehren, that goes for you and Max too,” he added over his shoulder. He apparently well and truly meant this to be a bouy after a long day—and before an even longer one. “All right. What’s next?”
Ehren cleared his throat. “Meeting with Aquitaine’s commanders.” Amara winced. That could get awkward rather swiftly. Tavi grimaced as well, and all of them settled in as duty reclaimed them.
As Ehren glanced down at his list, about to discuss the next one, Amara watched Tavi practically sprawl in his chair. Even knowing him since the end of his childhood, the shift was astonishing. “I have some time before the next, right?”
“Ah, yes. About twenty minutes.” Ehren shifted awkwardly.
“Good.”
Bernard laughed outright. “Could be worse. The politicians haven’t been in the room yet.” Amara had been wondering the same thing.
Just how young Tavi really was came to the fore in his grin. “By design. As long as I keep it military and spontaneous, they don’t get a chance to barge in.” He sank lower into his chair. “I need a dose of something reasonable before tomorrow.”
She exchanged a surprised look with her husband. That the First Lord would admit that to anyone was more than a little surprising, even after Gaius Sextus’ shocking openness with them in the last year of his life. Tavi had always had firm opinions about family, though. It was likely Bernard’s good influence. “Is there any way you could skip—”
Tavi was already shaking his head. “No, I’ll finish the meetings. What I need is dinner. Good dinner with family—and conversation without any of the war or politics.” Amara’s eyebrows shot up as he huffed at the obvious and totally silent implication that no one entirely believed that was even possible.
As he spoke, the door opened unceremoniously and Kitai walked in entirely unannounced. Tavi reached for her without seeming to think about it, Amara noted with amusement. She had heard they were finally and formally engaged. The news hadn’t quite spread yet, though. Everyone in the know who wasn’t utterly shocked—no one, really—anticipated the reactions with eagerness.
Kitai especially had an almost bloodthirsty delight with the prospect. The collective hysteria at the First Lord marrying a non-human entirely fit her sense of humor. Tavi’s wasn’t quite as pronounced—but Amara had been hearing stories about his surprisingly sadistic sense of humor. She almost felt sorry for some of the less abrasive ones.
“He says this,” Kitai said smoothly, “and the next breath will be about it again. There is an obvious solution to this, Aleran.” They all looked at her with some surprise, and the Marat young woman rolled her eyes. “Invite the whelp. Politics will always bore whelps, and they will change the subject. Doroga will do so too. Aleran politics are too mad to dwell on long.”
For a moment Amara didn’t grasp her meaning. Understanding dawned. Doroga was obvious after a brief thought, of course, as Tavi’s future father-in-law. The other possibility hadn’t even occurred to her. “You mean Masha?” she asked as Bernard blinked.
She knew that look. Doroga often wore it. It spoke volumes about the Aleran propensity to—in their eyes—state the obvious as if surprised. “Clearly. I have not met many Aleran whelps. And I should meet her.”
Tavi tilted his head slightly. “She’s Rook’s daughter, right?”
Despite herself, and all her knowledge of Tavi’s character, Amara couldn’t help feel a little strain. Rook’s cover had once been Gaelle, a Cursor trainee alongside Tavi and his year-mates—while she has still been Kalarus’ chief Bloodcrow. He hadn’t seen her since before her defection. More, Amara had no idea if he was aware she was Brencis Minorus’ daughter. Kalarus had been involved in Princeps Septimus’ murder, tried to murder Isana more than once, kidnapped Tavi and Kitai once, and Brencis had outright tried to kill Tavi while they had still been in school.
He had never been the type to hold that kind of grudge against an innocent, of course—but there was painful history. She hadn’t even considered how it might affect the dynamic.
Bernard apparently agreed. “Your cousin hasn’t met you,” he noted. They hadn’t officially adopted Masha quite yet, but it was a given. His voice didn’t quite carry emphasis, or a reminder, but something lurked there all the same.
“No,” Tavi said warmly, “she hasn’t. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to consider it. It might be late, but would you bring her, please? I’ll love meeting her.”
The warmth washed over Amara. She smiled not only with relief but with genuine, pure pleasure at his, and Bernard smiled with obvious approval. She hadn’t seen Tavi since before the exhausting trek through Kalare; he hadn’t seen his nephew in even longer. Some things, however, simply hadn’t changed. If not even the war and his new position could change it, nothing would. That was more heartening than many things could have been.
She still wasn’t sure if he knew about Masha’s past. She rather doubted it, as it was his job to know as much as he could. But if he was, it clearly didn’t occur to him to care. Or else if it did, he’d discarded it without a thought.
“Besides,” Kitai followed on his heels barely a moment between them, “I have heard Masha likes horses. That is far more sensible than many Alerans who aren’t whelps.”
If Tavi had seemed somewhat irritable and tired, it had entirely vanished under that wide smile. Amara and Bernard exchanged another glance. It might be late, but she’d been behaving remarkably well under the strain of the war. “We’ll bring her,” Bernard confirmed. “She can stay up a little longer, and go to bed after.”
The First Lord straightened in his chair, still beaming. “Wonderful. Full family dinner. Ehren, that goes for you and Max too,” he added over his shoulder. He apparently well and truly meant this to be a bouy after a long day—and before an even longer one. “All right. What’s next?”
Ehren cleared his throat. “Meeting with Aquitaine’s commanders.” Amara winced. That could get awkward rather swiftly. Tavi grimaced as well, and all of them settled in as duty reclaimed them.