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Ghet hadn’t been in their chambers when Ro found his way into the rooms. Assuming she was out in the gardens he had commissioned for her, the half-elf grinned to himself and started stripping off his sand coated trousers. Tager’s sword had been propped up against the end of the bed, the emerald in the pommel glistening in the sunlight streaming through the balcony doors.
With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders and twisted his head from side to side, letting the vertebrae in his spine pop. Pushing open a second set of doors that led into the bathing room, the King tapped the dragon shaped rune with this toe to up the heat a bit before descending the stairs into the pool.
Sitting on one of the ledges around the side he grabbed a sponge and the strawberry scented soap, washing away the grit as he shook his head, quietly amused. Roc had always been the weak son, unsure of himself, unskilled with weapons and words equally. The change in him was startling, but welcome…
“He may have a spine after all,” he muttered to himself, “it’s about skrunning time.”
Ghet had discovered that her garden was the perfect place for her yoga, and Downward Facing Dog had yet to crash any airships, as far as she was aware. Right now, though, she was discovering that 'someone' had come in while she was out and trailed sand all over the floor of their bedroom. Swearing healthily, she recovered her balance, brushed off her feet, and headed for their bathing chamber. "Hey, get that stick out from up your captain yet?" She sat on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the warm water; the body-hugging singlet and shorts she wore to work out well clear of the water. "What are you mumbling about now, elleska?"
Ro barked out a laugh and chucked the sponge at her, “Well… no, I think that stick is pretty firmly wedged. I may have broken Y’Roce’s though. There may be hope for the whelp yet.” He paused, and reached for another sponge, then shrugged and grabbed the shampoo instead. For a few moments, he couldn’t stop laughing, “I believe,” he managed finally, “that Roc, yes, Roc, challenged me to,” the laughter started up again, “to a duel.”
Grinning at Ghet as he soaped up his hair he shook his head in slight disbelief, “The little nyfader may have a spine we were previously unaware of.”
Gaping in total amazement, it was a good couple of seconds before Ghet could speak, which was possibly a record for 'upright'. "He what? How in hell... what did you do to him?" She leaned over on one side, propped up on her elbow to better appreciate her husband. "I mean, okay, there's something holding him perfectly rigid. Maybe he goes to the same stick place as Fadil... But I never thought I'd see him - wait, no, that thing before was quite an important question. What have you done?"
“Only what he asked me to,” Ro shrugged, “he’s been nagging at me for years to give him something to do to better serve our Kingdom, so I did. Jared wants to formalize our alliance, he has asked for an arranged marriage to solidify it. Roc is single and eager to please, so I offered him my congratulations.” He frowned suddenly, “He’s been to CathEska… you know, I could smell… I could smell it on him. So unless he’s been shagging the Tekcar Valin bought for Anaya on her last birthday…”
Ghet sat up, abruptly, and all trace of humour disappeared from her face as she worked her way through everything he'd said. "I'm sorry, you should have told me when I started working with him that I was breaking him in so you could sell him. Gods, Ro, I know you're angry with him, I didn't realise you'd actually gone insane. You're marrying him off? How'd he take it? Oh, of course, he challenged you to duel." That was actually still funny enough to get through, and she did grin, briefly. "Honestly, Rodi. I know you said things would be interesting, but you're choosing a pissed off half-broken colt as a representative of S'Hea? BECAUSE you think he's in love with someone else? That's a disaster!"
Ro was quiet for a moment, eyeing Ghet in silent contemplation. “No, the disaster would be the S’Hean Council finding out that my son is sleeping with his brother’s mother. I’d rather see him in an arranged marriage than face his people as a whole turning their back on him.” He dunked himself beneath the surface, rinsing the soap out of his hair. Surfacing, he waded across to his wife, putting a hand on each side of her, “The deal was, if he won the fight, no marriage, if I won…” the half-elf shrugged, “he had to know how that was going to turn out.”
A grimace marred his handsome features, “he has bonded to Rhiannon, that is going to be hard enough to hide. At least a marriage will cover up what he is really doing. I can’t stop him from going there, or from being with her, but I can protect him from people like Pe’Ris W’Cren.”
Ghet looked down at him, and her face was full of real grief. "You could let him go. Send him away. He'd never have to face Pe'Ris again. You would, of course... Gods, Ro... Who is she, the woman you're condemning to this life? Not just a husband who doesn't love her, but one who's not just in love with but bonded to another woman?" She shook her head. "I don't care how expedient it is, it's cruel. If it had been you? If this had been what Derwin had chosen for you because of me? What would you have done?"
“She is a woman from a culture where arranged marriages are the norm, where they are highly aware that they are political fronts and where needs are often met outside the marriage.” He paused, “What would I have done? Well, for starters, I wouldn’t have challenged a man who I knew could best me to a duel, and laid odds on it. I don’t know what I would have done, but even if I had ended up married to a woman I didn’t love, I wouldn’t have let you go.” A wry smile curved his mouth, “but then, that is the norm in Corin, they don’t marry for love. My parents were an arranged marriage, Ghettie, they were just fortunate to be that rare couple that find love in the midst of their duty.”
The half-elf scrubbed at his face with one hand and sighed, “Roc is doing this for S’Hea, not for me, which makes me believe that my son might be finally starting to understand what it means to be a Prince, to have a duty to your people, and that sometimes, what they need has to come first.”
"No," Ghet said quietly, her body language speaking withdrawal, "you wouldn't have let me go. So what makes you think Roc will give up Rhiannon because of it? And I doubt he has your skill at adultery. How do this woman's people feel about public faithlessness in their political marriages? It sounds pretty damn embarrassing to me. And just because it's normal in her culture doesn't mean the girl has the slightest idea what she's getting herself into. Were you planning to tell her you're offloading an embarrassment on her, or just going to let her find out over time?"
She got to her feet without using her hands, one smooth motion, her spine rigid. "Godsdammit, Ro, this is what I'm supposed to be for, to remind you that how people feel MATTERS. It didn't have to be Roc, did it? You could have sold them Fechine. All right, he's in love with someone else, but so is Y'Roce. He just pissed you off." Her jaw clenched, long-unspoken issues making her a touch less reasonable than normal. "And when it's our son's turn to 'do his duty' and spend the rest of his life being fucking miserable?" She headed for their bedroom, then turned back, too agitated to work out what she was supposed to do. "Not Rhagi. Or you really will have to worry about daggers in the night."
“Our son inherited enough sense to avoid being an embarrassment, he is also the heir to this throne,” Ro murmured, “and no, Fechine is too young… and has too many issues. Ghet, this is the first time I’ve ever seen Roc show any spine, and he agreed to it. I know that how people feel matters… I do, and if the boy had shown any common sense, I’d let him make decisions on his own.”
Taking the stairs, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist as he approached her, “I’m trying to do what is best by Roc, and you know as well as I do that Rhiannon is going to get bored sooner or later, and she’ll leave him a mess. For the love of the Gods, she slept with me when she was married to the supposed ‘love of her life’, willingly, without telling me a gods damn thing, and got pregnant. How do you think Roc will take that when it happens to him? And if he doesn’t have this marriage to fall back on, and S’Hea has turned its back on him, then what?
“This Aarataurean woman is the best woman capable to handle the situation, that family has seen a lot of affairs behind the scenes and it's perfectly normal, do you think she is walking into this expecting a faithful, loving husband? Not every culture is like what you are used to Ghettie; you know that better than anyone. This is the last damn chance I have to save my son from himself.”
He sighed and reached out to stroke her cheek with a thumb, “You’re my Queen, you are my conscience, but in this matter… this one matter, we are of a different mind.”
Ghet reached up gently, took his hand, and moved it off her face. "What I'm used to? What am I used to, Ro? Seven planets in sixteen years as a child. My job..." she shook her head. "You know as well as I do. So knowing that, knowing that I do know, think about why I'm saying this, instead of assuming I can't see past prejudices you know I don't have. You tell me I'm your conscience, but the first time I could be any damn use to you, not only do you not listen to me, you actually chose not to even consult me." It was something of a shock to her to realise, mid-argument, just why she was so upset. "You don't know this Aarataurean woman. Let me talk to her. If I can't isolate a girl from her entourage and find out how she really feels, then I really am as useless as you're making me feel. And when I know her heart? You will listen to what I have to say. And you do realise, don't you, that everything you just said about Rhiannon is exactly what Fadil said about me. That kind of judgement doesn't roll very nicely from your mouth."
She was managing to hold her temper, aware and puzzled that it wasn't anger she was feeling, but something very like grief. "Our son... no son of mine should ever be too sensible to follow his heart. Rhagi's too scared to take the risk. Any risk. He doesn't want to be your heir, and dammit I don't want him to be either! You know he's not right. He'd be an excellent advisor, but he's no leader, and that can't be taught. And all I'd have to do to take that burden from him is have another child and wham! There we are. Yet another simple thing I can't bloody do!"
“That isn’t how I meant it,” Ro said in a low tone, “and I’m not Fadil, you are definitely not Rhiannon, there is a chasm of difference there in soft, subtle tones.” He shut up for a moment, letting all that his wife had said roll around in his mind.
“You really feel that way? That you aren’t of use to me?” the S’Hean shook his head, “You are my strength and my reason to keep going every day. Do you have any idea how much I respect your opinion, and your ability to see things from outside the box? How awed I am by how much you feel? You’re right… honestly; we haven’t found our footing yet. In our marriage, yes, but as a ruling force, no, from now on I want you to sit with me in council. It is your rightful place; I’ve just been…waiting for you to find your footing. And if you are not satisfied with the answers you get from this girl, I’ll make other arrangements. Not because I’m giving in… but because you’ve made a good case.”
The last though, hit him like a bludgeon and had him running a shaking hand through his short-cropped hair. “Another child?” There had been a time when the prospect of being a father brought nothing but joy to Y’Roden D’Riel, but since his DNA had been tainted with a Demon strain, the very thought chilled him to the bone. What sort of creature would a child he sired now turn out to be? “Gods… Ghettie, I… I don’t know what to say. You know what the risks are because of me, and even giving birth to Rhagi…”
Ghet let out a long, shaky breath and rubbed the tears from her eyes. She'd always been vulnerable to his words, but they were nothing without substance, and he'd given her that too. "D'Anke, Rodi. I mean it."
Tired and frustrated, she pushed back the curtains and sat on the side of their bed, drawing her knees up to her chin. "I didn't actually intend to say that out loud. I know well why. I wouldn't leave you with a dead wife and a child you couldn't afford to let live. I just... I want our heir to really BE the child of the Tyrne and the Tyrah. You know how much I've changed since I had Rhagi. I want you to be able to hold me when I carry your child. I want to be pregnant, without a husband who's miserable. I've never had that. But I know it's not possible. It just bugs the living hells out of me, to be honest. There must be something..."
The S’Hean King sank down to his knees in front of his diminutive wife, his fingers wrapping around the redhead's ankles where they were perched on the side of the bed, stroking lightly at the soft skin there as Ro gazed up at her. “You really want this?” he asked softly, quietly damning Samara once again for the agony she was still inflicting, despite being safely trapped within the amulet resting against his chest.
“If there were a way… to make sure those genes didn’t pass on to our child…” He dropped his head against Ghet’s tanned shins and sighed, “You know how much I love children, how much it means to me to be a father… to be the father of your children. I’m just not sure, even if there was a way, that I could willingly put you at risk like that.” He smiled against her skin, “It’s a beautiful thought though… to be able to touch you and feel our child growing in you.”
Ironic, how the only thing he’d felt moving beneath her skin, despite the pregnancy with Rhagi, had been a Sandwyrm he’d had to literally gut her to remove. A shadow of his past that had made a horrifying resurrection in his life.
Ghet uncurled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, full of gentle tenderness. “I love you, Ro. That matters more than any of this.” She chewed on her lip, confronting a problem she’d previously just put in the too-hard basket. It wasn’t, in fact, impossible; it was just that thinking that had made it easier to deal with. “I could talk to some people. M’Sea. Find out if it was possible, and what the risks were, and then we could make the decision. You could make the decision, I don’t have as much at stake.” Risking her life didn’t scare her nearly as much as losing the man she loved. “I do want this. I know it doesn’t make much sense given my history, but…” She gave him a crumpled smile. “It’s how I feel.”
Sitting up, Ro drew Ghet into him, hugging her hard against his chest as he closed his eyes and just breathed for several moments. It was difficult to put into words, how precious it was to him to have her within arm’s reach every day, to know she belonged to him… finally. The sweetest thing, however, was that words were completely unnecessary at times; they had fought too hard, overcome too many obstacles for it to be any other way.
“Talk to M’Sea,” he said finally, the words warm in his vonna’s hair, “if she has something viable, we’ll talk about it again.” The S’Hean hadn’t realized, just until that moment, how badly he wanted another child with Ghet, or more specifically, to share with her a family that was just theirs, from day one. He tamped it down hard, afraid to get his hopes up over something that was, for the moment, just a glimmer of possibility. “Yona Elleska dai,” he murmured, his baritone slightly raspy as the elf dug his fingers into thick red locks and turned his head to kiss her.
Ghet kissed her ronnan back, soft with wonder. He was so strong: not just strong enough to support her when she needed it, but more than that, strong enough to let her stand alone when she didn’t. “We’ll find a way,” she said gently, slipping his towel from his hips with practised ease. “We always do.” It was safe to say; right now Y’Roce was the furthest thing from her mind.
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