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Alys entered her office at the Residence and sat down at her desk. Yesterday they had celebrated Laisa and Gregor’s wedding. There were no scheduled events today, although the next few days involved some meetings and lunches as various distinguished guests were sped on their way. This afternoon Simon had told her he’d planned another getaway, and she had five days to prepare. How odd, to have someone else arrange everything … to not be involved in the details. He’d promised to give her enough information to be able to pack, though.
In any case, she wanted to put her office in order before leaving it for a week. She filed some papers, and looked through her upcoming tasks to see what needed to be delegated. Gregor and Laisa had two weeks of time to themselves, and then they would return to Vorbarr Sultana. After that, there were three weeks to prepare for the wedding on Komarr. Most of those details were already arranged – some things could be repeated from the wedding on Barrayar, after all – but when that was done, Alys was hoping she and Simon could take a longer vacation together.
Alys shook her head as she realized she had a foolish smile on her face, and had been daydreaming for the past few minutes. She then paused to really explore the moment, curious about the woman who was in her office now … demonstrably competent and powerful in her sphere; loved and in love; mother to an adult son; well integrated in several social groups. If not an almost-mother to the next generation, she was at least a significant adult in their lives.
She could never have imagined this trajectory, when she first walked through this door. When she first started to make this space her own. She’d been a different person then. I’ve been so many different women, here, in this space, she thought. The person I am today is built from all of them.
*
The Alys who had first entered this office, unsure of her role and how it would develop, had still been grieving and shell-shocked. Terrified, behind her mask of strength and assurance. Determined to make a life for herself and her child. Alys had often been unconsciously taken as a leader by her peers in society after the upheaval of the Pretendership. Piotr and Vortala had made it clear that she had their support, and in fact their encouragement, to take on the role of maintaining Vor traditions. While she was pondering their discussion, Cordelia had invited her for another conversation. That was when the sacrifices involved had been made clear.
It would be another loss, the path of remarrying and having more children closed to her, if she accepted the responsibilities of acting as hostess for Aral and Cordelia. Of reinforcing, or setting the standards and guiding society. She would be stepping in to fulfil some of the loving and parenting that Gregor needed. Gregor, who had lost his mother so tragically early. The loss of Kareen was one more grief in the whole mess.
It would be useless to deny that, despite the traumas in her life, she’d had many advantages too. They included being high Vor, marrying Padma, becoming friends with Aral and Cordelia … her natural talent for aesthetics, reading people, and building relationships. But it was her determination that had harnessed her gifts and pressed them into service. For Ivan’s good, for her own future, and for the Empire. She was Vor, after all.
Alys had learned to work with Captain Illyan, Chief of ImpSec.
“We’ll need you to make these changes to the seating plan, my Lady.”
She smiled faintly as she recalled his polite but firm voice, his unthinking certainty that orders would be followed.
She’d drawn a deep breath, gathered her courage, and taken on one of the most feared men in Vorbarr Sultana. Tactfully, gracefully, but with determination.
“Captain Illyan, you haven’t considered these factors ….”
He wasn’t blinded by the fact that she was a woman; he didn’t make the mistake of dismissing her views. He’d respected her insights and developed the habit of consulting with her when it was appropriate. But then, she’d respected his work too. His intellect, wit, courage and integrity. How he understood her devotion to Ivan, and subtly offered his support. A moment was crystallized in her memory; a small moment, but it was when she’d known he would defend her authority.
They’d been discussing the final details of the reception for the next day. Illyan went to use the lav attached to the inner, private room in her office. Alys had summoned the assigned Lieutenant to her outer office.
“But my Lady, this seems excessive,” he protested in a condescending tone. “I mean, it’s not like you are really the expert in this type of security. You should leave it to ImpSec, and not bother with these minute details …” the words died on his lips as Illyan emerged from the inner room.
Alys turned and was started to see a look of implacable ice in Illyan’s eyes. The lieutenant quailed. Illyan turned to address Alys.
“My lady, I apologize for the impertinence of my officer. This should never occur. Please inform me if this is ever a problem, from anyone, again.”
She nodded, startled. It wasn’t frequent, but this did happen; she usually handled it - and asserted her will - with a combination of quelling hauteur and flattery.
The captain turned a steely look on his subordinate.
“Lieutenant, my office. Now.”
Yes, that made it clear that she had not only the Regent’s support, but the Chief of ImpSec’s as well.
*
Cordelia had made an appointment to meet here, when Alys was mother to a toddler. Ivan was three years old.
“You need to develop other interests, Alys. You’re all-consumed by this job, and by Ivan. That intense focus won’t do either of you any good.”
Alys could let some of her guard down with Cordelia. She rubbed her tired face.
“I’m getting there, Cordelia. The processes are almost where I need them to be …. “
“You need to get out. You need to relax, see friends. Maybe you need to take a lover, to help you release some stress.”
“Cordelia, I do keep in touch with my social group, you know. I see them at receptions, sometimes I go to lunch …”
“You don’t seem to find it refreshing. Is it just another chore to you?”
Alys paused, considering how to explain this to Cordelia.
“My friend group from before, they have – they still have husbands, Cordelia. They’ve gone on to have more children. They’re in a different place. Do you know, I’ve made a death offering for Padma on Ivan’s birthday for the past couple of years … that offering is also for the death of the hopes and dreams I used to have. Perhaps it will get easier. I have to work through it, I don’t regret my decisions, but I just can’t connect with my old friends in the same way.”
Cordelia rallied. “Well, a lover then. It would do you so much good to have that physical release.”
Alys shuddered. “No, thank you. There’s nobody remotely interesting to me.”
*
A few years later, Ivan was working with a tutor along with Miles and Elena. Gregor was studying more advanced subjects with his own teacher. All of the children had free time to play, outside or inside the Residence, and some social time with other, similar-aged Vor children. Meeting other children would have benefits socially now, and years down the road when they entered the Academy and society.
This Alys, more experienced and somewhat more relaxed, understood the importance of these steps. Yet she still privately mourned Ivan’s growing up. No longer was it acceptable to check in on him at any time. Cordelia insisted that she remember that Ivan needed to have some part of his day that was not necessarily shared with her.
“It’s for your good as well as his, Alys,” she’d said firmly. The fact that was true didn’t mean that Alys found it any easier.
Alys went to pick up her new dress at Estelle’s. A new apprentice had been tasked with cutting and sewing the dove grey fabric, and had made an error in the neckline. It was more revealing than what Alys typically wore. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. It was flattering, yes. The fit was excellent, skimming her waist and hips before flaring out to a good dancing skirt. It was unfortunate that she really couldn’t wear it this way.
Estelle understood the problem at once. “Ah, milday. My most sincere apologies. We can remake the dress, at no additional charge to you.”
“Hmmm. Estelle, do you have the bolero that goes with this? I’m wondering if it will fasten across the front, then I can just wear that over top. It should cover the neckline. I'd like to wear the dress this evening.”
With the fastenings adjusted, the bolero could act as a short jacket, ending at mid-back. It covered up her decolletage to Alys’ satisfaction.
“This is fine, Estelle. I can take it now. It is actually rather flattering, if not quite appropriate to my needs.”
Estelle cast a minatory glance at her apprentice.
“We’ll be sure to have your dresses as ordered in the future, Milady.”
That evening, Captain Illyan knocked on her office door. She had acquired some new information that he should have, about certain guests who would be present at the reception this evening. She wanted to ensure a chance to share the details with him privately.
“Come,” she called out. The bolero jacket was hanging on the back of her chair as she closed the clasp on her necklace.
“Thank you for coming, Captain,” she smiled. “I need to show you this report.”
She walked over to her desk and bent to sort through the flimsies. Illyan’s sudden immobility caught her attention, and she flicked her eyes up to see his gaze on her neckline. She could feel a blush flooding her cheeks as she straightened.
“Ah, here, … I thought you ought to be aware … “ she stammered.
“Thank you,” he said automatically, and tensed as she stepped close to him to hand over the flimsies.
She backed away to pick up her bolero. Looking in the full length mirror, she closed the fastenings securely while also observing Illyan. She could see that his eyes were upon her. They lingered on the curves traced by her waist and hips. She confirmed that the choice of necklace suited her new dress.
She turned to face him, and could read the heat and desire in his eyes. She felt her femininity reassert itself in a rush.
“Did you have any questions about this report, Captain?”
He ran his eyes over it, paused, and asked a few questions.
“Thank you, Lady Alys. This is critical information and will be most helpful.”
She nodded and stepped close to him again, and breathed in his scent.
“Will you escort me, Captain?”
He had already banked down his reaction to her.
“It would be my pleasure.”
As she placed her hand on his arm, she subtly enjoyed his warmth, and the feel of his muscle underneath her fingers.
This was the Alys whose sexuality had reawakened at last.
But she was not free to think of Captain Illyan in that way. He was, after all, of the prole class. She was high Vor. And they worked closely together. It was too dangerous to think of him, alone in her room at night. Once Ivan was asleep, she created fantasies of some nameless, faceless Vor Lord to release her sexual tension. There didn’t seem to be any chance of it becoming real.
*
In this office, she’d been the Alys who missed Ivan when he was accepted into the Academy and left home. The Alys who could not let herself give way to despair when first Miles, then Ivan disappeared. And the one who locked her door before breaking down in desperate tears, when she heard of Illyan’s arrest. Dear God, not again. I can’t lose everything again.
After sobbing until she felt utterly drained, she had washed her face, drank water, and laid down on the couch in her small private room to escape into sleep.
When she awoke a few hours later, she put herself to rights. She tamped down all emotion, because it wouldn’t help anyone right now. She unlocked the door and continued to do what was needed, looking for any opportunity to help Ivan, Miles, Aral, Cordelia and Simon.
She’d uttered a prayer of indescribable thanks when Ivan – and Miles – had returned. Letting Ivan go back to the academy was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Her prayer of thanks also covered Illyan’s release from his cell. It was being without him, Alys thought, that allowed her to start actually thinking about him as a man she might – in other circumstances – have welcomed as a lover. She realized how imperceptibly he’d become part of her life, how she looked forward to seeing him and speaking with him. Not that she could say such things, of course. Their situation was still impossible.
*
Captain Illyan escorted her to the ImpSec groundcar that was to bring her back to her flat. Suddenly his courteous assistance became a shove into the car as he turned with a fluid motion to pull out his stunner and drop an assailant she hadn’t seen, coming towards them. She caught a glimpse of another attacker behind Simon, but before she could utter a warning he’d already grabbed the man’s arm to trip and unbalance him. Simon flung him to the ground and pinned him down with a grip on both of his man’s arms. ImpSec officers surrounded the scene in a moment to immobilize both men with tangle fields, take in Simon’s quick, authoritative commands, and fan out to secure the space.
“Lady Alys, come with me,” he ordered, holding out an imperative hand. He pulled her from the vehicle and hustled her back inside to her office. He opened a panel on the back of the bookcase near the door and showed her a device.
“This is an additional lock to your door. When I’ve left, attach it like this,” – he demonstrated. “It unlocks in this way,” he demonstrated again.
“Try locking and unlocking it, please.”
She did so.
“When I return, I’ll identify myself so that you can open the door. I will also have a tool that can open the lock from outside the door – it’s keyed to exactly this device. Stay quiet.”
He slipped out the door and she swiftly attached device, then activated the regular door lock.
She paced for awhile, then lay on the couch in the outer room with her arms wrapped around herself. She replayed the preceeding events over and over. Who was the target, Simon or me? What’s happening … is he safe?
Alys chided this inner voice. He’s demonstrably able to look after himself. And Gregor, Aral, and the Empire … Miles, Cordelia, Ivan, and me.
She flicked through memories, the regular threats that Simon and ImpSec had dealt with over the years. The time she’d seen him kill a man, during the coup attempt early in the regency. He could be ruthless if he had to be. She had heard rumours, and was also certain there had been events of which she had no knowledge. Times when Simon looked weary, and she surmised he’d been up all night for an emergency, or working too many hours because of too much to do.
I wish he was back here, safe.
Her comconsole chimed and she stared at it uncertainly. Better not to answer, she thought. I don’t know who it is. Someone might be trying to locate me.
Soon she heard Simon’s voice outside her door. She sat up and huddled into a ball on the couch. “It’s done,” he called out.
“Come in,” she answered.
She heard Simon override the regular lock. The second lock clicked too, and Simon entered. He moved swiftly to her, and held her as she shook.
“It’s alright,” he soothed. “You’re safe.”
“You’re safe,” she fought to keep her voice level.
“Yes.”
“Is anyone injured? Were there more people involved? How did you resolve things?”
“Nobody injured. There were two others involved, loitering by your flat. I questioned the ones we apprehended with fast penta, and my officers picked up the other two.”
There was a grim tone to his voice. She shuddered. She’d heard snippets of Simon questioning suspects before, with and without fast penta, over the years. He was – not gentle. Not physically abusive, to her knowledge. But he got results, and he was thorough.
“The plan was to extort money from Ivan. The idiots must not have realized you have ImpSec protection wherever you go. Even if I hadn’t been there, you had an outer perimeter and the assigned guards. I doubt the attempted hijacking of the car would have been successful. But I’m glad I was there.”
“So am I,” she murmured. “Thank you, Simon.”
Simon gave her a gentle squeeze, and when he would have released her, she leaned into him a few moments longer. Then he got up and moved to her comconsole. He called for tea and sandwiches. He went to the lav, ran a washcloth under warm water and came back with it.
“Tilt up,” he said softly, and lifted her chin to carefully clean her face.
Looking into his eyes – that was the moment that the Alys of that time had known he loved her. And that she loved him.
Not that anything could come from it.
*
The years that followed were filled with unspoken longing, private dreams, hope and despair. This Alys’ heart grew as she treasured the certainty of knowing she loved and was loved. Illyan came here daily to confer with her. She poured him tea with her own hands; he smiled at her with a particular warmth in his eyes. He let her see his exhaustion and frustration. She shared her worries about Ivan. They had work to keep them busy, from the Empire at large to a mutual concern for Gregor, Miles, Ivan and the other “children.” And if they each thought of the other when alone at night, neither of them spoke about it.
There were also stressful, desperate times. She became the Alys who was his confidante when Miles was killed and in cryo, possibly lost forever; the one who sat with him in silence as he went endlessly over the data he had, searching for a thread to follow. The Alys who suffered with him when Aral had his heart attack and was in hospital; and when he gave way to Cordelia and let Mark go searching for Miles. It was here, in her office, that word came through that Mark and Miles were on their way back to Barrayar – exhausted, injured, but alive – and she saw him weep.
*
Alys drew back from her bittersweet memories to call for tea and – her lip twitched – sandwiches. Perennial comfort food, she supposed.
As she waited for the food to come, she recalled one more Alys – the one almost broken by Simon’s devastating medical condition. This Alys needed to draw on all the determination and persistence from her youth to survive the month ahead. She now dared to take up and cherish new dreams of making a life with Simon; she desperately wanted to make love with him; to keep him safe and to value his protection of her. This Alys was done with wasting time, and watching opportunities pass by. She would wait no longer. If the chance still existed ….
*
There was a knock at the door, and a servitor brought in a tray of sandwiches, milk, cream, and tea cups. Simon followed, with the thermos. Alys felt a radiant smile transform her face.
“My thanks,” she said to the servitor. “I’m fine to arrange things from here.”
“As you wish, milady,” he replied.
Simon closed the door, and came to sit in his usual chair. She poured tea for them both and settled herself.
“What were you thinking?” he asked. “When I came in, you looked pensive, and then you smiled so brilliantly.”
“I was thinking. You know, Simon, I’ve been many different women in this room. The Alys of twenty-four, the Alys of thirty …. Each one with the seeds for the next to grow. I needed each one to be who she was, for me to become – or build - the Alys I am now.”
He frowned, trying to picture this.
“Like a plant, growing year by year?” he suggested. “Or more like one of those nesting dolls … getting bigger each time, but encompassing the smaller versions inside?”
“Like the dolls,” she decided. “That way, I can hold and comfort those earlier versions of me, and draw on them when I need their strengths.”
They shared a companionable few minutes of silence as they had some tea. They each took half a sandwich.
Simon’s face took on a far away look. “What is it?” she asked.
“I have memories of you in those years past – so often we’ve been together in here. Always beautiful.”
She laughed. “We commiserated after some parties where I’m sure I wasn’t so beautiful. Exhausted, drained, grumpy, maybe.”
He didn’t say if he remembered those times or not. He just extended a hand to her, then brought her fingers to his lips.
“Beautiful.”
She caught a gleam in his eye.
“You’re thinking of something else, too,” she accused.
“I may have, hmmmm … imagined being with you in this office too. Wished for things that never did happen. There’s significant emotion attached to the memory of that, that fantasy.”
He glanced significantly at the couch, and then her desk, and raised an eyebrow at her.
“How … curious,” she leaned over and breathed in ear. “I’ve also thought of you being here. In some rather different positions than our usual formality.”
“I wonder …. “ Simon murmured and got up to walk over to the door. He ran his hands along the back of several of the bookshelves before his fingers found the hidden door.
He smirked at Alys. “It’s funny, what I remember and what I forget. I doubt I’ve told Guy about this lock.”
She came over to take it from his hand and use it to secure the door. Then she went to her desk to activate the regular lock too.
“Excuse me a moment,” she said politely.
In the lav, she removed her dress and support garment. She kept her panties, and put the bolero back on to provide some coverage of her top. She would leave Simon the opportunity to remove something, she thought mischievously.
Boleros flattered her, she thought. Alys hoped she wasn’t vain, but she could hardly help knowing how Simon admired the curves and softness of her figure.
She kept a pair of formal shoes somewhere in this private room, in the closet … there. The high heels were not her favourite for dancing, but she thought they’d fit this occasion.
At the doorway to the inner office, Alys paused. Simon had cleared her desk - oh. The desk, really?? The couch would be more comfortable .... well, the man was thorough. He was preparing that too.
The Alys of today spoke with a lilt in her voice. “Simon?”
He turned, froze for a moment, and crossed to her. His warm hands moved over her skin in a caress. He smiled into her eyes.
Alys from years ago could never have imagined this moment. The Alys she was becoming would remember, and cherish it.