Chapter Text
Princess Kareen Vorbarra looked down at her sons, sleeping peacefully in her arms. Gregor Ezar and Bazil Edward. Gregor, the eldest, had been given a golden chain, and Bazil had been given a silver one as well as a black mark on his left hand, so that they knew who the heir and the spare were. The two weren’t identical, really, but they did look a great deal alike, and no one seemed to trust Kareen to tell them apart, or at least tell the truth about it. She had prayed they’d be a boy and a girl. Or at the very least two girls. But of course, it had to be the worst-case scenario. Two boys. Twins. Born on the same day. Inheritance issues, that weapon which could destroy families on Barrayar, or at least Vor families. She sat, dread filling her as she waited for her husband’s return. She had been unsure at first of what would happen since they were both males, it hadn’t really been discussed with her, but the longer she waited for Serg’s return the more she was filled with a terrible certainty that she would lose one of her sons tonight.
Finally, the door to her chambers opened and Serg stepped through, trailed by a Lieutenant of perhaps thirty whom Kareen didn’t recognize, and another Lieutenant called Illyan. Serg’s face was impassive, and the unfamiliar officer looked distinctly uncomfortable as he ducked his head politely toward her. “M’lady,” he said.
Kareen acknowledged him with a gracious nod. “What is this, Serg?” she asked. His lip twitched in half a smirk as his eyes flicked to the ceiling in annoyance, or perhaps in an effort to restrain from hitting her in front of company. He got annoyed at the tiniest things.
Serg took a deep breath before saying apathetically, “This is Lieutenant Jesek. He will be taking the younger boy.”
“What?!” Kareen cried. “No, you can’t!”
“I can,” Serg snapped, looking at her hard. ”And I am. Besides," his voice lost its heat and he became emotionless once more, "It’s not entirely my choice. My father might have the largest say in this. Frankly, my dear, this is disastrous, and sending the spare twin away is how the Vorbarras have dealt with first born twin princes for ages.”
Kareen calmed her tone, fearing the retribution she already knew was coming later. “In the past, the child always went to a Vor family of the parents’ choosing, and was educated to be Emperor in the event of his brother’s death before an heir.”
“In the past,” said Serg, “the planet was ruled by fools and madmen. The sheer idiocy of the idea of placing a rival to the throne so close to it astounds me. Yes, the boy will learn how to rule in the event of Gregor’s death before he produces an heir, and so will know of his relations, but being placed in an unknown prole family far away from Vorbarr Sultana should prevent him from being in any position to take the throne unless we put him there and openly claim him as our son. Any claims he makes will not be entertained so long as we deny them, and thus he will not be in any position to usurp his brother’s rule. This is not up for discussion or debate. The child will be in good hands. Lieutenant Jesek here is married and has four sons already, ranging in age from eleven to six, so the boy will not be lonely, and any education will be payed for out of the Imperial Purse, as well as education for his foster siblings, and a generous allowance. ImpSec will keep an eye on him for safety purposes, as well as for security. Gregor will learn of his brother’s existence upon his assent to the throne, or sometime after mine if I decide it is safe to tell him, but his existence cannot be public until Gregor’s reign is secure.”
Kareen was silent for a moment. Serg’s monotone voice betrayed no emotion, and Kareen had come to learn that that was because he felt none. Her husband felt no love for anything or anyone except for his own power. That had become clear to her on their wedding night, how much of a fool she had been. Her mother had tried to warn her. Serg couldn’t care less that he might never see one of his children again.
Finally she spoke, softly, “You are taking away my child. My little boy. Our son, your heir’s brother. Can you not even say his name?”
Serg’s face went very still. Lieutenant Jesek cleared his throat and began, “M’lady—” then cut off looking at Serg. When the Crown Prince nodded at him, he continued, “M’lady. I…I understand that this is…difficult, for you. Maybe seemingly impossible. But I swear to you, your son will be in good hands, and he will be loved. M’wife, she’s not…very healthy, see. She longs for nothing more than another child, but the town physician has warned her against it, for fear that it might put too much strain on her. So you see…we’ll love him like our own, m’lady.”
Kareen sighed. “I’m sure you will, Lieutenant. But I’m afraid it’s little solace to me. I don’t want my child to be loved by another. I want to love him myself.”
“Love him from a distance, Kareen,” Serg said. “We are out of time, and I’m out of patience. The boy will go with Jesek.”
“Say his name, Serg.”
“What?”
“Say his name. He is your son, not some child on the street. Say it.”
“The boy is leaving now. Give him to me.”
Kareen held Baz closer to herself. “No.”
The next thing she knew, two Vorbarra armsmen strode through the door and stood on either side of her armchair, a hand each placed on either of her shoulders. Emperor Ezar Vorbarra followed, with two more armsmen behind him, as well as Captain Negri, Chief of ImpSec. Lieutenant Illyan moved to the corner a few feet away from her, presumably to where he could see everything and record it on his eidetic memory chip. Lieutenant Jesek dropped to a knee, and Serg ducked his head for a moment out of propriety. Kareen did not let go of either child, as they woke and began fussing. Ezar waved Jesek to his feet, and placed a quelling hand on Serg’s shoulder when he stepped toward her to reach for Bazil. Ezar walked toward her and knelt in front of her chair, as tears began streaming down her face again. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. His face was hard, but not so emotionless as Serg’s. His eyes showed…understanding? And no small amount of sympathy.
“Kareen. I understand that this is hard for you. I would give all the world to make this unnecessary. But it is. Necessary. Now, I’m going to take Bazil Edward. I would appreciate it if you didn’t fight me.”
Kareen took a deep breath and gathered herself, then said, "Please, let me say goodbye. And give him my locket."
“Alright,” said Ezar. He gently reached his hands up and unclasped the locket that hung around her neck, and placed it around Bazil's. He then took Gregor from her arms, and turned away from her, hushing the babe. Kareen rocked Bazil for a moment, softly singing a lullaby, as she realized that perhaps Bazil was the lucky one. He got to escape. Be safe, my son. Live and grow. Love. Laugh. Cry. Be happy, but feel sadness. Be peaceful, but feel anger. Grow to become your own man, free from your father and who he would make you, free from this smothering duty. Live to the fullest, and be free. Be free.
As Ezar turned back around, Kareen quickly gave Bazil one last kiss on the forehead before Gregor was returned to her, and Bazil taken away. She watched Ezar pass Bazil to Jesek, and whisper something in the man’s ear, as Jesek made one last half bow to Ezar and nod to her, and departed, her son in his arms. She felt like screaming, threatening everyone who stood between her and her younger son, but she was Vor to the bone. Her discipline would not allow it of her, though her eyes were hot and wet. Company gone, Serg stepped toward her, anger now open on his face. Kareen flinched backward, only to find an armsmen standing in front of her, with two of the others holding Serg by either arm.
“The hell?!” Serg burst out. “Let me go!” Gregor stirred and started crying again. Serg managed to half turn to his father, glaring murderously. “Tell them to let me go,” he growled.
“No,” said Ezar cooly. “Not until you calm down.”
“What exactly are you thinking I’ll—” he turned to Kareen. “Oh, you…you bitch.”
Kareen flinched back again. The armsmen seemed to tighten their grip on Serg, pulling the Crown Prince up onto his toes.
“We’ll discuss this in private,” Ezar continued as cooly as before. “Lieutenant Illyan, please follow Lieutenant Jesek and escort him and Bazil safely back to Hassadar. Captain Negri, I need you to finish confirming Bazil’s covert security detail. Prince Serg, you will return to your quarters to cool off and then meet me in my study in an hour. You are dismissed, Lieutenant. Captain.”
Negri and Illyan bowed themselves out, leaving the Vorbarras and the armsmen. Ezar stared cooly at Serg until the man broke his gaze, head bowed, scowling at the floor. He didn’t look in Kareen and Gregor’s direction. The armsmen let go of his arms, although one of them, Gerard, put his hand on Serg’s shoulder.
“Alright, then,” the armsman said. “M’lord.”
Serg shrugged Gerard off and stalked to the door and out of the room, followed at a respectful distance by Gerard. Ezar gave Kareen one more glance, then nodded to the armsmen near her. They followed their liege-lord as he exited his daughter-in-law’s quarters, leaving her alone with an infant boy squirming in her arms, as the tears finally flowed freely and hotly from her eyes.