Work Text:
It was a warm spring day and Cordelia was having tea with Lady Alys in the garden, but she had little attention to spare for the scenery, her mind fixed on the singular little flower she had picked up in the hallway.
She pulled the slightly crumpled black orange blossom from her purse and placed it on the table.
“Alys,” she said, “Who is it?”
It could have been from someone else, of course, a servant perhaps, or anyone else who had come to visit, but Cordelia thought not.
Alys’s eyes widened fractionally, and she said, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Cordelia.”
But she said it kindly, not as if she was insulted, only setting a firm boundary. Cordelia knew better than to push. If she was an unstoppable force, Alys was most certainly an immovable object.
“How long?” Cordelia asked. How long had this been going on without her noticing?
“It’s been… goodness, over nineteen years now,” Alys said, her face taking on a reminiscing expression, something soft in the crinkle of her eyes, and very, very tired.
Nineteen years , almost as long as Cordelia had known her. Alys had fallen in love with this person just a year after Padma’s death.
“Nineteen years,” Cordelia said, amazed, “And it hasn’t faded? And you haven’t done anything about it? Alys, I know you derive a great deal of freedom from being unattached, but this is… Even you can’t be so insistent on propriety when you so clearly do love this person. Please tell me you at least talked to them about it.”
“Him, Cordelia,” Alys said, her eyes laughing at her a little, “Don’t get overly excited. And I haven’t spoken to him about it in fact, though I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s guessed.”
“He’s not married, is he?” Cordelia asked.
“Of course not,” said Alys, “But it’s quite impossible, for reasons of propriety, I suppose, but also more complicated, unavoidable reasons. Drop it, Cordelia, I appreciate the effort, but you can’t play Baba on this one.”
Cordelia sighed, and sipped at her abandoned tea thoughtfully.
“There’s really no hope, then, you’re absolutely certain?” Cordelia asked.
“None whatsoever,” Alys said.
“Then,” Cordelia said slowly, “There are cures for this sort of thing, on Beta Colony.”
“There’s no cure for Hanahaki, not even on Beta Colony.”
“Not the disease,” Cordelia said, “The… feelings.”
Alys stared at her. Not open-mouthed, only because she was Lady Alys.
“That’s abominable!” Alys said, “Eminently sensible, of course, but utterly abominable. Really, Cordelia, Betans !”
Cordelia wasn’t entirely sure how much she liked the idea herself, but she couldn’t stand the thought of just letting this continue, of not doing something about it.
“But what’s the point ,” Cordelia asked, “If it really is impossible, and you can never be with him, can never be happy?”
“The point ,” Alys said, “Is that I love him. And if this,” she picked the little flower up from the table with exquisite gentleness, “Is all I can have of him, then I shall be content to have this. Sometimes unhappiness is the lot we are given in life, but it is much better to feel, and to hurt for it, than to feel nothing at all. There is nothing you can do about it, Cordelia, I think that is what it is to be alive.”
How very Barrayaran , Cordelia thought bitterly, to equate life with suffering.
…
Cordelia told Aral about it that night.
“Well,” Aral said, “Don’t tell Simon about those Betan treatments. He might take you up on it, he already sacrifices so much of his humanity for the sake of efficiency, and he has so little of it left to himself.”
Cordelia knew that. She wouldn’t have offered if she’d had that conversation with Simon.
“Simon too?” She asked, “How long has that been going on?”
Simon, that was almost more painful to think about than Alys, although perhaps less surprising.
“I don’t know,” Aral said, “Something like twenty years, I think, though of course it could be longer, I didn’t know him well before then.”
Twenty years. And Alys for nineteen.
“You don’t suppose…” said Cordelia.
“That they’re in love with each other? It would make a terrible amount of sense, actually. And it would explain why the feelings haven’t faded over time, those two are always working together at the Residence.”
“Do you suppose they know? Alys said she wouldn’t be surprised if the person she was in love with knew, even though she hadn’t told him, which rather does point to Simon now that I think of it.”
“Oh, I’m sure they both know, if it’s them.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Cordelia said, feeling the urge to laugh hysterically, “Hanahaki is supposed to be the curse of unrequited love, this would be about as required as it could get.”
“True,” said Aral, “But it is unacknowledged, and unconsummated, and it would have to be, if it’s them, Alys was right about that. A relationship between them would complicate their lives horribly, perhaps more so than the Imperium could bear. I’m not even sure that Simon can have a romantic relationship, with that chip in his head. He keeps his sanity on a knife edge, you know. Everything he’s ever seen or heard is immediate to him in a way I don’t even want to imagine. And he has seen so many terribly ugly things, more than a few of them sexual in nature.”
“I hate this,” Cordelia said, “It’s so incredibly stupid. I hate all the Barrayaran politics that won’t let people alone to have personal lives. I hate what was done to Simon, I hate Ezar and all those Illyrican scientists who did it to him. I wish there was something I could do . I can’t bear to do nothing, I can’t bear the thought that our friends are suffering when we have so much happiness, Aral.”
“I know, Cordelia,” Aral said, “But let it rest. Let them have this.”
“What,” said Cordelia, “Suffering?”
“Love, dear Captain, love.”