Chapter Text
Aral, come on down. Mama says you haven’t been home all day. She’s very worried about you. I am, too.
Selig Xav Vorkosigan stood at the base of tree looking up toward the treehouse, very nearly invisible even if you knew exactly where to look. Aral had cleverly designed it that way. He had designed the whole thing that first post-war summer, after pouring over dozens of books on architecture and spending weeks searching for the perfect location. It had a stunning view of the lake and most importantly, was difficult to see from the ground. Incredibly, years later, even the General-their-Father knew nothing about it, and the few armsmen who did were sworn to keep it that way, not that they needed much persuading.
C’mon, Aral! I know you’re up there. Come down so we can talk.
As soon as he’d gotten home from Hassadar, he searched for his brother. He wasn’t in his room, or the library, and both his sailboat and the rowboat were still at the dock, so it had to be the treehouse he’d sought solace and sanctuary in. Selig knew Aral was upset. Hell, he had every right to be. He himself was, too.
If you’re not going to come down, at least toss the rope down so I can come up. I wanted to talk to you this morning before I had to leave, but you’d already gone out running.
Since the family had first come to the lake house after the war, Aral had been in the habit of running, very early in the morning, in the hills surrounding the lake. He’d become a champion cross-country runner at his school, easily keeping pace with the oldest boys. He thought nothing of an eight kilometer run, in any and all weather. The armsmen had given up keeping up with him, on the theory that he’d be able to outrun any possible threat. Laziness on their part? Maybe, but very probably true. With Aral, it was his stamina rather than sheer speed that made him the formidable runner he was.
He once jokingly asked Aral whatever possessed him to get out of a warm, cozy bed on icy mornings, or on already steamy summer ones to run. His quiet answer stunned him. Aral said that running gave him a high, even if just running against himself or against the clock. But when he was very upset, angry, or both, by running against the emotional pain - driving himself through it when part of himself wanted to give in and quit as the other half desperately urged him to keep on - he was able to force his mind and body to conquer the pain and finally float free. That was the high that made it worth it...
He remembered thinking at the time that that was awfully deep (and a little sad) for someone so young, but that was Aral for you. Selig didn’t doubt running helped his brother to work off his frustrations as well as making the kid incredibly fit, but in his opinion, Aral would be so much better off slamming doors, throwing things, shouting profanities, punching holes in walls, letting it all out… A lot like Da, actually, now that he thought about it, but his little brother was much too well-behaved for any of that. So he ran. He was so intense and tightly controlled nearly all the time… always pushing himself. It couldn’t possibly be healthy for him keeping his feelings bottled up the way he did.
I know you’re dying to know why I’m home so early and not still with Da. Let me up and I’ll give you all the gory details. I’m still pretty gobsmacked by it myself!
If he knew Aral, that ought to get some results soon, but as a precautionary measure, he threw out his ace in the hole.
Oh, and by the way, I managed to find a copy of that book on Lord Vorwyn’s Siege of Vorkosigan Vashnoi you’ve been wanting. Pretty good condition, too.
He had promised his brother a week ago they’d attend the last day of Summerfest together in Hassadar today. Aral had been beside himself with anticipation all week. The annual re-enactment of the Siege of Vorkosigan Vashnoi by Lord Vorwyn of Hazelbright during the First Bloody Century was always a huge favorite of his. He’d laugh himself silly at the irony of their ancestor, Count Selig Vorkosigan, smuggling horses - horses! - in and out of the besieged townin plain sight! Personally, despite the fact that his namesake was the hero of the piece, Selig had always thought the whole thing was a real snoozer. Yawn! It was just a train of pack horses being walked into mockups of the the now incinerated city’s walls by costumed Dendarii veterans past equally costumed villagers representing Hazelbright’s forces, who pantomimed inspecting the saddlebags for contraband. As everyone in the district well knew, the horses, not the contents of the saddlebags, were the contraband! Aral, history wonk that he was, was a sucker for that kind of thing, He loved every supremely cheesy second of it, no matter how many times he saw it. But that was Aral for you.
Noises from up above were followed shortly by the thick, knotted rope that served as their access in and out of the treehouse. He had argued unsuccessfully for years for a rope ladder, at least, but Aral prevailed. With a sigh of resignation, he tucked the book in his waistband, rubbed his hands together, and began what was (for him) an arduous, hand-over-hand climb. Aral always scampered up effortlessly, laughing at his big brother’s clumsy efforts. He was seemingly part monkey, if his climbing skills were any indication. His climbing skills, like all the rest of them, were superb, of course.
When Selig was just short of the open trapdoor, Aral reached down to lend him a hand. He grabbed it thankfully and heaved himself up onto the platform with a grunt, shutting the door behind him.
About bloody time! Were you planning on brooding up here forever, Mouse?*
Aral just shrugged. He looked so tired - probably hadn’t slept much last night - and tense, his eyes hooded and jaw muscles twitching. Given the absence of reading materials of any kind, Selig knew that was an indication of just how upset he was. It was all so damn unfair! Aral was such a good kid… A top student, beautiful manners, thoughtful and considerate, obedient and nearly reverential to his elders. He couldn’t possibly be more unlike most of the younger siblings of his fellow heirs, many of whom never bothered to conceal what looked to him like raw resentment of their older brother’s status. Heh! Barrayaran history was knee deep in bloody tales of younger siblings who had taken those resentments and jealousies to the next murderous level.
His own stomach had been churning all day over the matter that had made Aral so upset. At dinner last night, Da told him he wanted him by his side all day while he did some political wheeling and dealing along with some networking with the District’s bigwigs who would also be in attendance at the Summerfest festivities, acting as what he’d come to think of (and not in a good way) as an ‘apprentice count.’ Ugh! Father had been on his case most of the summer about that ‘apprenticeship’ ever since he turned sixteen a few months back. None of his usually effective charm offensives worked to dissuade the Count-his-Father that there was plenty of time for that yet, so he’d been obliged to attend no end of what were to him mind-numbingly boring village council meetings, district courts, and the like. If Da had actually enjoyed it himself that would have different, but as the count, he went at it with grim determination, doing his duty as a liege lord, as if he’d rather be doing just about anything else. Selig could certainly sympathize...
Things had gone downhill rapidly after that. Da had been in a foul mood the past few days since learning he’d have to cut short his stay at the lake house to return early to the capital for what he proclaimed would be a bullshit emergency council session - in reality, nothing but a lot of noise and political posturing called with the sole purpose of inconveniencing one party or another. As if Da hasn’t engaged in a fair bit of that himself, he had thought. The General had been exceptionally pissy with everyone since, causing the entire staff and all the armsmen to tiptoe around as if on eggshells, attempting to stay out of his line of fire as much as possible.
He really should have been on the defensive given Da’s demeanor, but at the sight of Aral’s doleful, crestfallen expression, he allowed his face to reflect his own displeasure. Da noticed quickly, and asked in an ominous tone what the problem was. Mama was subtly signaling him to back off, but in a fit of pique, he ignored her, and told his father he had been planning on spending the whole day with Aral.
Selig had come to realize in the past few weeks just how much he enjoyed his younger brother’s company. They’d had relatively little time together over the summer what with Da dragging him along on district affairs whenever he was at the lake house, and frequent visits by a group of fellow Vor scions his age (give or take a few years), waggishly dubbed ‘The Heir Club’ by Thibaud Vorrutyer, who considered himself quite the wit. He considered him obnoxious. Aral jokingly referred to the group as his entourage. Since he would be starting back to his prep school in a few days for his last year before the academy, he was genuinely looking forward to spending the day with Aral, who was always a good companion, more so now than ever. Smart as a whip, clever, loyal, honest, endlessly energetic, and quickly developing a delightfully dry wit (often at his own expense), he was such a pleasure to have around. Selig was well aware (and not ashamed to admit) that even though he was five years younger, Aral was easily the more mature of the two of them, and a good influence on him. Mama, he knew, was in complete agreement, and was openly overjoyed at how close the two of them were gradually becoming. Their age difference seemed to matter much less than it had in previous years. He very much regretted not having spent more time with Aral over the summer, and had the good grace to be embarrassed that the kid looked up to him so much. He really didn’t deserve it…
Glowering at him, neck vein throbbing, Da had asked him in that tone of voice if he thought wasting a day with Aral was more important than learning his duties as the future count, and began spouting the usual platitudes he’d heard ad nauseum since the end of the Occupation: how it was never too early to start building alliances and beginning to currying favor with high ranking officials, and the necessity of maneuvering people in such a way as to put them in your debt for the inevitable day when you’d have to call in favors; etc., etc., etc. It was all beginning to sicken him…
Keenly aware he was on thin ice, he had sulked and said nothing. Aral, defensively, had gone into his Invisible Man Mode - silent, eyes down, his expression as neutral as possible, but to no avail. Da turned his anger on him. When he wouldn’t (or couldn’t) reply when asked what he had to say for himself, Da thundered that he didn’t take such insolence from anyone and an attitude adjustment was clearly in order! Aral was to be grounded for the remainder of the family’s stay in Vorkosigan Surleau, and as such, he would not be going to the Summerfest or anywhere else.
It had been a toss-up as to who was more stunned - Aral, himself, or Mama, although she recovered quickly enough to look daggers at Da’s retreating back as he stormed off to his after-dinner drinks in the library. Aral excused himself and left quickly. Selig had thought it a very good thing their little sister Galina was away at the shore with their Vorpatril cousins. She was as fiercely protective of Aral as he was of her, and she would have had some choice words in his defense, most likely inadvertently making things even worse for him.
As hot-tempered and outspoken as their father, she was his darling, his ‘Little Princess.’ Personally, Selig regarded her as quite a little hellion who got away with far more than even he ever had, especially with Da, and that was saying a lot! As Daddy’s Little Princess, she had him totally wrapped around her little finger and she knew it. Did she ever! Oddly enough, Aral didn’t seem to resent the unfairness of it at all, and she, to her credit, was devoted to him.
Heh! Snorting, he recalled an extremely memorable occasion last summer when seven year old Galina and her (then) best friend Celine Vorbataille had been playing with their dolls near Mama’s garden, having a mock tea party. Aral, ever helpful, had volunteered to take a tray of real tea things from Mama, leaving it with the two girls on his way to the dock to meet him for a swim. Not five minutes later, the two boys heard angry shouting followed by hideous screams, and ran to where the girls were only to find Galina sitting on top of her red-faced and crying friend, with a fistful of hair held triumphantly in her upraised arm! The Vorbataille girl, sobbing pitifully, sporting a bloody nose and the beginnings of a black eye, had been taken home by a Vorkosigan armsman, with apologies from the Countess. Galina glared at them, muttering “What a crybaby!” as they departed.
Furious and feisty, Galina explained to Mama that Celine had said Aral was ‘funny looking, with those mutie eyes’ and just who did she think she was anyway??? Teary-eyed, sniffling, and full of righteous indignation on her favorite brother’s behalf, Lina told Mama Aral was not funny looking at all - he wasn’t! He has such pretty eyes, she’d said, silver ones - just like yours and Gran’s, and asked if that meant Aral was royal, too, like both princesses.
Mama had laughed delightedly, and Aral, poor kid, was as mortified as only a ten year old boy could be when the Princess-their-Mother said that yes, indeed, Lord Aral certainly was! That was Aral for you! Later that evening, after hearing about the incident from Mama, half the armsmen, and probably Count Vorbataille by then, much to everyone’s surprise (they’d all expected he’d be furious) Da proclaimed that Lina certainly had his temper, and seemed inordinately proud of it! Go figure…
Well, aren’t you going to ask? You know you want to! I’m still finding it hard to believe myself! I consider it a moral victory, and you know how I usually avoid those if at all possible.
Aral’s somber expression cracked a little at that, with just a hint of a grin. He scooted over on the bench facing the open side of the room (with that glorious view) to make room for his brother. Selig sat down beside him, draping an arm across his shoulders. While Aral was still considerably small for almost eleven, it seemed to him his shoulders were definitely starting to broaden, just a bit. A good sign, perhaps… or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part.
I am so, so sorry about what happened yesterday, Little Mouse. You did nothing to deserve being punished. I should have said something then and there in your defense. But I kept putting it off until this afternoon to say anything to Da. He had told me earlier I could leave to spend time with my ‘little friends’ - don’t you just love that expresssion? - after we finished district business. I know he really wanted me to stay with him - to show me off to his cronies like one of his prize stallions, belike, but I somehow got up enough nerve to tell him I was going home to be with you, because as he always says, a count’s first duty is to his family above all else, after his liege lord the emperor, of course. I told him I intended to build as strong a relationship with you as possible because I was counting on you to be my right hand man caring for our District some day. Heh! I’m not at all sure whether it was my dazzling rhetoric or if he was merely stunned into silence, but I sure as hell didn’t wait around to find out! And just so you know, I don’t consider any time spent with you as wasted...
Aral’s head snapped around, his luminous grey eyes wide in jaw-dropping, speechless disbelief.
I’m not strong like you, Mouse. I don’t mean physically strong, although pound for pound, you’re possibly the strongest boy your age on the planet. And your stamina is off the charts - it’s exhausting just watching you! No, I mean mentally strong. What’s that Betan expression Gran uses… something about ticking? ‘Takes a licking and keeps on ticking’ - or something like that? Yeah, that’s you all over! It’s got to be awfully difficult, I should think, always trying to do the right thing when there are so many easier options. I admire that.
Aral was totally gobsmacked - speechless, blinking slowly. Selig continued, hugging the younger boy closer. At least he didn’t pull away...
I do, Mouse. I can’t tell you how much I do. I wish I had it in me to be like that, but I don’t. The Path of Least Resistance, that’s my default mode. I don’t like to make waves. I’d much sooner just keep my head down and go with the flow. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or not… Um, and while I’m being confessional, I have something else to get off my chest along those lines. It’s been bugging the hell out of me all summer. Last night just brought it into focus.
Remember that time the Heir Club was here, before my birthday? When Thibaud Vorrutyer kept going on and on and on about why you were always hanging around with us, since you were merely the spare, and a few of the others picked up on it, too, trying to get rid of you by ordering you off on all those idiotic errands as if you were one of the house servants?
Beside him, Aral nodded. Selig sighed - this wasn’t going to be easy for him to admit. He owed it to the kid, though, for the way he’d hurt him then. Not intentionally, it was true, but as a consequence of taking the easy way out, as he so often did when faced with a quandary. Selig Vorkosigan did not like quandaries, no sir, and avoided them like the plague.
I told 'em the only reason I let you hang out with us was because Mama ordered me to, and what a princess wants, a princess gets. THAT was something they all understood, and it shut ‘em all up and got them off my back. You just stood there and took it. I think you had left by the time they started grousing about what infernal pests younger brothers could be, with lots of sympathy for my position. I should have apologized later, but I was too ashamed... Please, tell me you know I didn’t mean it...
He felt his brother’s back and shoulders stiffen beneath his arm, but he still didn’t pull away.
I’ve learned this summer that I very much enjoy having you around. Seriously! I was really looking forward to us spending the day together today. I’m terribly sorry we didn’t do it more often. I’ve also learned that, God help me, I like being top dog in my little social circle. Heh! Great term, eh - ‘social circle’? What a crock! Most of ‘em are nothing but social climbers and brown-nosers… junior versions of what they’ll be in the Council of Counts someday, feeding off any perceived weaknesses they see in each other. And me, too, eventually, which they’ll use against me if and when they can. Sad, isn’t it? But that’s Barrayar in a nutshell…
Look, I’m no genius - that’s you - but I’m smart enough to know that my leader-of-the-pack status has nothing at all to do with my leadership abilities or my character and EVERYTHING to do with who our great-grandfather was, who our grandfather is, and especially, who Da is. Don’t shrug it off like that, Mouse - you know it’s true as well as I do. We all have our roles to play, and for better or for worse, Highest of High Vor Scions is mine. I wish to hell Great-Uncle Yuri had an heir. After Grand’da and Uncle Mischa, it’s me - ugh! - until Uncle Mischa starts procreating, anyway. Hopefully soon. VERY soon… I’d much rather be a backcountry hillman.
Aral snorted lightly in sympathy. Selig felt the boy’s taut back muscles relax a little.
I never intended to hurt you, Mouse. I know you were, and you had every right to be. I don’t blame you at all. I’d like to promise I’ll never pull anything like again, not with you, anyway. But like I said, I’m not strong that way, so if you ever see me doing anything like that again, as your future liege lord, I order you to bring it to my attention immediately, say - with a smack upside the head or the like! I’m pretty dense when it comes to stuff like that, so it might take several tries.
He snuck a glance down to see Aral grinning. He was completely relaxed now, and leaning against him comfortably. It felt so good to get that confession out. It had been gnawing at him since it happened, but he’d been too embarrassed to do it sooner. With the return to school looming in a few days, he did not want to leave his brother with any bad feeling between them.
So here’s what we’re going to do. Da’s leaving early tomorrow for at least a couple of days. You and I are going to spend the entire day together, dusk to dawn. Maybe two days, if I can get someone to pack my school stuff for me. You and me, joined at the hip, as it were. Anything you want to do, just name it. Since you’re grounded, we’ll have to stay on the estate or as close to it as possible - no sense making things worse for you when Da gets back, eh? But it’ll be your choice, alright? Just us, Little Mouse. Are we good?
Aral’s grin had spread from ear to ear. He wouldn’t swear to it but there might have been a hint of water in those deep grey eyes. As they made their descent down the rope, Selig snickered as a thought occurred.
Oh, and by the way? At the Reenactment? With our illustrious ancestor? During the Siege? Turns out it was HORSES old Selig was smuggling. He was smuggling horses in plain sight! Imagine that! Awesome, right? Heh! Just thought you’d want to know…
They laughed until their faces hurt and their sides were sore, all the way to the house. It felt good. Oh, yeah... tomorrow was going to be an even more unforgettable day for the Brothers Vorkosigan.