Work Text:
Idra watched as the Empress Csethiro listened indulgently to his small sisters’ excited chatter about their plans for the day. A young nursemaid watched over the little princess, who was slumbering peacefully. “The child is a wonder,” said Csethiro. “To sleep through the noise of a family breakfast and yet be so very wide awake when all is quiet and dark. I am truly thankful for her night nurse.”
The Emperor took advantage of the moment to have a quiet word with Idra. “I thought perhaps we could talk after our breakfast.”
Idra was a little surprised. Although he and Maia met regularly, nothing was planned for that day.
“Have we time?” he said.
“We have half an hour. Csevet has arranged it with thy tutor. Perhaps we can walk in the gardens, where we are less likely to be disturbed.”
Maia liked to walk outside, always under the supervision of his nohecharei, but somewhat more relaxed in the secure space of the gardens, where he could stop and talk to the gardeners if he wished without incurring silent disapproval.
“Although maybe this is not the ideal day for the gardens,” admitted Maia, as they headed out. It was late spring, and rain was falling gently.
“At least it’s warmer,” said Idra, polite but puzzled, wondering why Maia had still preferred to walk outside.
They turned along the stoa which bordered the largest rose garden.
“So, how goes it?” said Maia. Idra had recently turned sixteen, with all the tiresome ceremony associated with the coming-of-age of the heir to the Imperium. Nonetheless he was now an adult, and there were privileges as well as disadvantages associated with that.
Idra smiled. “I am officially out of the nursery at last.”
“Hast been an adult for some time now, in many ways. Thou know’st I have greatly appreciated thy assistance.”
“In sooth I am only coming to realise how much I have to learn. I’m grateful for the opportunities thou hast given me to follow the work of others. I will be well prepared to take up my father’s duties as Prince of the Drazhada.” He looked sidelong at Maia. “An our hopes are realised.” Idra had made it plain to Maia two years earlier that he had no desire to be Emperor, and his feelings had not changed.
“‘Tis not yet publicly announced,” said Maia, “but the gossip is correct.”
Idra laughed. “The entire palace is abuzz.”
“Of course it is. We can hope for a son this time, if only to please thee. I would be very happy with another daughter, especially one as beautiful as our first.” Maia doted on his little daughter, as did Csethiro. And Idra’s young sisters, and half the palace. “But whatever the outcome, thou wilt always have many responsibilities as a Prince of the Drazhada. There’s actually something else I must discuss with thee.”
“My marriage.” Idra managed not to sigh.
“I'm afraid so. The Corazhas have in fact been, well, rather more than hinting for some time. Yesterday they voted to recommend thy marriage in order to secure the succession. Which makes it a somewhat more pressing issue.”
“Art charged with arranging my marriage.” Idra knew it was the Emperor who would arrange the match, since Idra’s own father was dead. He looked aside at the rosebeds, which were beginning to show signs of the changing season.
The Corazhas had some justification for their concern. The shattering loss of the Emperor Varenechibel and Idra’s father and uncles in the destruction of the Wisdom of Choharo had all but destroyed the imperial family, leaving only Maia, an unknown young half-goblin, to become Emperor. Maia’s first few months in the Untheileneise court had been turbulent, and people naturally wanted the succession to be secure. Many hopes would rest on the Empress bearing a healthy son; a princess, however beautiful, would not help. And even if he was supplanted as Maia’s heir, Idra must marry and shore up the Drazhada dynasty.
“Thou art too young to marry, at least in the opinion of sensible people. But a betrothal would make many people happier. I think thou dost not yet have any favourite among the young women of the court.”
“I do not. Cousin Maia, I do not feel ready for marriage.” Idra spoke as calmly as he could, though he knew he was flushing.
“I do not urge it on thee. I only suggest that a betrothal may be long, a year or even more, and that it may perhaps not lead so inevitably to marriage, if circumstances change in that time.”
Idra looked at him. “I would not wish to give any false promises either.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I have two suggestions thou mayst wish to consider. I will send Csevet to thee.”
“Cousin, thou should’st know I do not incline to men,” said Idra, teasing, in an awkward attempt to make this conversation easier.
Maia was no longer so easily flustered. “I am somewhat relieved to hear it,” he said with a smile. “Although a lover is always a possibility, the court would not be welcoming; thou would’st have a difficult time.
“Obviously thou’rt already acquainted with many of the young women of marriageable age in the court, and thy tutor will be able to assist thy understanding as to which of these might be most suitable.
“But thou mayst not be aware of Csevet’s particular skills. Thou know’st how ill-educated I was and how uninformed about the ways of the court when I first came here. When on the very day of my arrival I was informed that I must marry, I had not the least idea what to do. Csevet told me about those young women who were eligible, and discussed the suitability of their families. Truth to tell he was largely responsible for the match. But he was also able to furnish knowledge which might be better termed gossip. He would be able to tell thee who might be unhappy with a match, whether because their affections are already engaged or for another reason. And he would be able to give thee advice about those who do not come to court.”
“Who do not come to court?” said Idra slowly.
“Those from more distant corners of the Elflands, or whose families are uninterested in politics, perhaps. Thou mightst like to undertake some travel beyond the Drazhada lands.”
“And thus perhaps delay the inevitable. I see. But perhaps I could also be useful to thee. I could inspect thy bridge, for example.”
He smiled, knowing how Maia longed to see the work progress. The Emperor had visited once, but felt that additional trips would be difficult to justify. And the bridge was a fascinating piece of engineering; anybody would want to see it, especially with the benefit of an expert guide from the clocksmiths’ guild such as might be provided for the Emperor’s heir.
“There are many places where thy visit could be enjoyable for thee as well as useful. Could’st visit Lohaiso, Amalo, the other great cities those hast not seen.
“And thou could’st visit thy mother, perhaps, a private visit. I’m sorry, but it might be best if thy sisters did not accompany thee.”
“I understand. And perhaps it’s too soon for that. But I would like to see the bridge. And Thu-Thetar, where Captain Orthema comes from. And the badlands. And the steppes. I would love to see a Nazhmorhathvereise witch,” added Idra, as the idea took hold.
Maia’s ears gave him away. “I had not thought of that. I would not like to see thee run any risk.”
“There is peace now, Maia.”
“There is a ceasefire, which as thou well knowest is not at all the same. But,” he continued, “that brings us to my other suggestion, or rather request. I need a favour from thee. Canst say no an thou dost not wish it.
“Despite his best efforts Captain Vizhenka finds his half eshpekh of Hezhethora frequently bored, and tiresomely inclined to dispute with the Untheileneise Guard. He has suggested a detachment of them might perhaps serve as thy personal guard.”
He looked at Idra carefully. Idra needed to make his mark at the court, and Maia thought perhaps a conspicuous and imposing guard of Hezhethora might be a suitable, mildly controversial start.
Idra was immediately enamoured with the idea, but he was naturally cautious.
“May I think about all this?” said Idra, “it’s a lot to take in.”
“Of course.”
“And of course I’ll talk to Csevet.”
********************
“Well?” said Mirean later that day, when there was a chance for a quiet word with her brother. “Was it what thou feared?”
“Alas, yes. But our clever cousin has found ways to make it more acceptable to me.”
“Of course he has!” They had not noticed Ino come in. “Cousin Maia can do anything!”
Idra laughed. “If only that were true, many things would be different. But he is not imposing any choice on me and indeed has suggested ways to create a delay, if I want. I’ll call on you tonight and tell you all about it. I have a lot to think about.”
********************