forbarrayar | [ reunion event ]

Entry tags:

!event,
^postgame

[ reunion event ]

OOC Info/Plotting Post ⚔️ Status Quo/Weather ⚔️ Activities

[ photo source ]

It’s the dark of night when you come to in the foothills. Dry leaves crackle underfoot, a cool autumn breeze whistling. A steep mountain range towards just ahead, its peaks illuminated by the light of two moons. Whatever you last remember, it isn’t how you got here, and you feel oddly jetlagged, slightly queasy.

But you remember this place.

You’re not alone. There are a few other people close by, and you recognize them from the last time you were all snatched by spacetime to this planet. What you don’t know, though, is why you’re here again when you were supposed to have been sent home for good — or dead. But before any of you have a chance to figure out what’s going on, the soldiers arrive.

They’re dressed in familiar, weather-worn green uniforms, bearing swords and bows, but none of those weapons are pointed at you. This time, the Barrayaran soldiers are here to welcome you — to shepherd you back to their camp, safe from prying Cetagandan eyes, because they’ve been expecting you. It’s been five years since the outsiders left Barrayar, they say. There are more answers waiting for you in the camp, they promise, but this time, you don’t have to worry about finding a way home.

When you get to the camp, some familiar faces are waiting for you: General Count Piotr Vorkosigan has ordered that the outsiders be given tents, food, and whatever supplies they need, and Princess Sonia Vorbarra leads the welcoming party back at camp, eager to greet old friends with her sunny smile.

Dr. Micah Niadem is in the Barrayaran camp, too, and don’t worry: they have a perfectly scientific explanation for all of this. Well, most of it. But the bottom line is, you don’t have to worry about going back home, because the Niadem fields will take care of that for you — so you’ve got about four weeks to spend with old comrades, recounting old battles and swapping war stories from the interim, and perhaps help Piotr in a few small battles for old time’s sake.

status quo
Weather: It’s autumn on Barrayar! The mix of green Earth vegetation and the red-and-brown native flora blends together in a panoply of color across the Dendarii Mountains, and the abundance of maple trees in all their varying shades makes for a beautiful sight. There are rainy days here and there, and the skies over Vorkosigan’s District are partly cloudy most days. It’s gotten rather cool at night, a little bit of a damp chill settling in, but it’s still far more tolerable than the harsh mountain winters. The mountains are often shrouded in mist by the first light of dawn, casting an ethereal halo around the Dendarii peaks. The highs for this month are 67°F/20°C, with lows of 45°F/7°C.

Piotr’s army has moved camp several times in the last five years, so the layout and location won’t be quite as familiar, but they’ve come back around to an encampment not too far from Riverfall Village. It’s only a half a day’s walk from the camp — less, if you can really hike, and some of the villagers will likely remember those outsiders who helped them during the hard times in the cold and the flu epidemic.

While the Barrayarans are very much still roughing it out in the mountains and they still have to be careful with their resources, they can actually accommodate the outsiders’ temporary presence without putting too much of a strain on their supplies, and they'll have a tent designated for the outsiders' use. While the Dendarii Mountains see their fair share of harsh winters, none have been quite so vicious as the one suffered five years ago with the outsiders. They haven’t had to resort to eating horse meat since then, at least.

The Barrayarans aren’t winning the war by any means, but things are a little less dire on the front in Vorkosigan’s District. While tactical situation has improved over the last five years, it’s still far from ideal, and morale is still recovering from a nasty encounter with the Cetagandans that took place about a week before the outsiders arrive: a Barrayaran patrol in the foothills was ambushed by a Cetagandan squad, resulting in the deaths of several of Piotr’s men. Piotr, of course, does not intend to let this lie, and will be gearing up for a counterattack. Any old comrades who’d like to help him kill some Cetagandans will be more than welcome to participate.

Vorkosigan Vashnoi, the former capital of the district, still glows in the dark at night from the nuclear bombing five years ago. The Barrayarans have had more success in receiving aid from off-planet, thanks to Prince Xav’s tireless efforts, though most of Barrayar is still relegated to guerilla warfare. The capital city of Vorbarr Sultana is still under heavy occupation, ground that the Cetagandans are most reluctant to give up. News of victories such as Piotr’s from other parts of Barrayar, however, is fueling the resistance there.

Tarn, who was last seen badly losing a fight with Crown Prince Yuri, fled into the mountains after the events of five years ago, and there are rumored sightings to this day of the Dendarii Mountains’ own Baba Yaga.

activities
Ongoing
Leaf viewing: The Dendarii Mountains are breathtaking in autumn as all the leaves change color — most striking are the numerous and colorful maple trees for which the District is famous. While the outsiders are discouraged from wandering too far from camp, taking a little stroll to appreciate the view is a popular seasonal activity. The locals say that the scenery is even prettier with a cup of maple mead in hand.
Helping out around camp: There are no idle hands in the Barrayaran camp! Hunting for food, mucking the stables, cooking, laundry, weapon maintenance — just about anybody can help with something, and just like before, the Barrayarans do expect your help as long as you’re here.
Portraits: Sonia will be taking photographs of (or with!) outsiders as keepsakes, and has cleared a little space by the cave entrance for her and set up a few chairs for portraits. While she doesn’t know if they’ll be able to take anything back with them, she’ll gladly take two pictures — one for you, and one for herself.
Riverfall: The village is about a half a day’s walk, and much like the Barrayarans, the hillfolk remember the outsiders who helped them in the past. It seems that Piotr must have briefed Speaker Gura about the outsiders’ arrival, as their appearance in the village doesn’t panic or even particularly faze the villagers. Riverfall has changed very little — in fact, the only detectable difference is in the ages of its residents.
Micah's device: If you’ve recently returned to Barrayar and you’d like to stay for good, you can ask Micah to do something sciencey to detangle your neural net from the wormhole, but it will be permanent. There is also a level of personal risk involved, as it can’t be done from the Barrayaran camp: Micah’s equipment, such as it is, is stored in a safehouse in the city of Seligrad, which is about half a day’s ride from the foothills. They’re more than willing to make the journey, though, if it’s to help their old friends.

Week 1
Welcome back: On the first night, there’s a very unofficial reception, the loosest sense of the word — mostly soldiers sharing drinks with the outsiders around a fire, recounting old battles and swapping stories from the interim. There will be a lot of drunken toasting, perhaps a few fights easily broken up by their less sloshed comrades.
Training drills: Piotr recently lost several good men to the Cetagandans when one of their patrols in the foothills was ambushed, and he’s running training drills to hit the Cetas back just as hard. If you proved to be a reliable soldier in the past, he might even let you run some yourself.

Week 2
Skirmish with the Cetagandan soldiers: There are, of course, always opportunities to help the war effort in a more direct sense. Piotr has no problem allowing outsiders on his mission to fuck up the Cetagandans in turn, though things don’t go quite according to plan: while they strike a blow and manage to kill a few Cetagandans on patrol, it’s messy and more or less comes to a draw, with Piotr’s men retreating with their wounded.
Treating the injured: It’s not a pretty fight, and there are plenty of wounded afterwards, though no casualties. The medics could always use a hand in treating injuries, even if it’s just to hold someone down before they have a broken bone reset.

Week 3
Harvest festival: The Riverfall locals throw a lively festival to ensure a bountiful harvest every year, equal parts excuse to party and deep-rooted tradition of superstition. The hillfolk throw a hell of a party, and there’s sure to be plenty of drinking, dancing, and music.
Skirmish, round 2: After a messy first engagement, Piotr leads his troops in a more tightly orchestrated raid on the Cetagandans — this one with a much more satisfying conclusion. This time, they strike at a supply run coming in from one of the occupied cities; not only do they manage to kill the entire patrol with fewer wounded on their part, they also return to camp with fresh medical supplies.

Week 4
Dorca and Yuri: Emperor Dorca and his son, Crown Prince Yuri, arrive in Piotr’s camp at the tail end of the outsiders’ visit. Yuri, whose famously unpleasant demeanor has only grown worse over time, still has yet to remarry and produce another heir after the deaths of his sons five years ago.
(Threads with Dorca and Yuri by request only; please hit up the mod for plotting.)
Farewell gathering: The night before the outsiders’ last day on Barrayar is, of course, full of drinking, though the mood is somewhat different from the first night. The next day, the Barrayarans and Micah say their goodbyes before the outsiders are escorted back down to the foothills for their return home. Some of them may even have some parting gifts, even if no one’s really sure if the outsiders will be able to take them home.

Will this really be the last time they see the outsiders, though? Micah says nothing’s impossible…

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh god. Miles had told himself he wasn’t going to cry during this whole - well - event, or however one should think of it. At minimum, the first night with zero tears. But hearing Sonia pour all of that out and lay the flowers at his (and Byerly’s) feet brings the treacherous little sparks of water directly to his eyes. He had an influence on her. A positive one, a good change. It’s good to see that he did manage that.

Miles sniffles a little, forcing those tears back, and quirks a little smile back. Shy, overwhelmed. “So you have,” he echoes. “I am glad, Sonia. Gladder than you know.”

He sets the cup down for a moment to reach for her hand, to clasp her fingers in his pinched ones. “And now I get a second chance, eh? In slightly better circumstances, judging by the welcome.”

Sonia has to blink back sympathetic tears — she has no illusions about how much crying she's likely to do with the outsiders returning, joyous and otherwise — but her smile is hopelessly fond as Miles grasps her hand. Maybe it's because of the unique bond they'd developed five years ago, or maybe just because they're family, but seeing him happy only makes her happy. All they want for each other in the end, she knows, is to be happy. God, it's good to be with family.

She clasps Miles's hand in both her own, squeezing tight in return, and smiles. "Better than you last saw us, certainly," she says, then tilts her head to the side in concession. "The war is far from over, but — it's better."

How close to winning, though? How close to the end? She doesn't know, and she can't ask — she won't. She's not sure knowing would even make a difference.

"But I want to hear about you, Miles. What happened to you?" She gives him a small, plaintive pout, an expression so utterly Sonia it makes her look like a young girl all over again. "You were still in one piece the last time I saw you. You...did make it back to your time, didn't you?"

"Good, ah. That seems right to me." Miles is also fairly certain that telling Sonia how close they are - or aren't - to the end of the war would also do little good, and potentially a lot of harm. So he will leave it at that, and hope that things remain on track in the long run. Mostly. (Well, there are a few changes he would make, but he needs at least a night before he starts scheming on THAT topic.)

Ah, he's drifting again. Sonia looking so much like her younger self for a moment brings him back to the topic at hand. As difficult as THAT is ... His smile aches again. And, alas, he must let go of her again to get at the mead. This is something he needs to be braced for. "Before I tell you anything," he says, slowly, "just remember that I've been home for several months now. Nearly a year. Safe and sound and - er - mostly in one piece."

That little addition likely already betrays what he's about to get into here. No need for THAT kind of caveat if everything went smoothly, after all ...

Sonia picks up her own cup for a sip, and the face she makes in response has so little to do with the mead and very much to do with that caveat. She knows Miles well enough to know that whatever is about to follow in this story requires maple mead and qualifying.

"Miles," she says, her brow creasing as a familial mix of dismay, exasperation, and morbid amusement creeps into her voice, "what did you do?"

If he hears just the faintest echo of his cousin Ivan's voice just now, well...perhaps certain things really do run in the family.

Ivan. God. That's just another small crack in his existence now, given the man is now a distant, awkward relationship rather than his closest friend/brother/victim. He chokes a bit and has to swallow quickly around both the mead and the lump forming in his throat. Breathe, Miles. There's so much else to talk about first.

"I changed the future," he says, simply. "When I got home, it was different from what I remembered. Starting with nobody knowing who the hell I was when I stumbled out of the mountains with an injured arm." He shrugs, jagged. "By the time Simon found me, I'd already lost it to gangrene and some impromptu surgery."

Miles is keeping that starting thread simple, at first, but Sonia's a bright woman. He imagines she'll pick up on a lot of implications before he states them outright.

Oh, no.

The moment the words I changed the future are out, Sonia's lips part in dismay. She doesn't know how much she wants to hear this, but she knows he wouldn't be telling her any of this if it weren't important, if he didn't feel she needed to know.

She had imagined — she had hoped — that Miles and Byerly would return to their own Barrayar, as it was when they left it. It's not as though it never occurred to her that their mere presence might change some things, but somehow, she'd always imagined their time a separate place entirely, untouched by the events of five years ago. She bites her lip, taking this in, and immediately sets aside every frivolous question that first springs to mind. The details she needs are the ones she doesn't know.

"Who's Simon?"

Miles will avoid what's relevant to her own future anyway, mostly because everything that he knows is after her time, or near enough to it. All nicely tangled around himself. (Though, he's already wondering in the back of his head how much he should say about other family. Aral comes to mind. Piotr ... Piotr is going to be thorny. Later, later.)

"He's the head of Imperial Security," Miles says. That part's simple, easy. "I stole his last name actually - Miles Ilyan seemed safe enough." He's getting distracted again. Focus. "In my time, he has an experimental chip in his head that artificially records his memories. Including, it seems, alternate timelines."

God, he cannot tell her about that being Ezar's program. Instead, he lets out a deep breath, bright gray eyes focused on a distant point. "In short, he's the only one who remembers my existence as I currently exist," Miles says. "Everyone else only knows the version of Miles Vorkosigan who died when he was three."

And there it is. That's the central thread at the core of his story. Everything else cascades from there, as far as Miles is (perhaps selfishly) concerned. His jaw sets hard in his face as he strains to keep most of the emotion out of his tone. He's certain that if he lets too much leak in, it's going to become a miserable flood all too quickly.

Edited (okay done tweaking) 2025-09-27 03:17 (UTC)

Imperial Security. Alright, based on what she knows about Miles and given his relatives (their relatives), that makes sense enough to Sonia, and she nods. But her eyes widen when he mentions the memory chip. Now that's a technological marvel even by Betan standards. The fact that this man remembers a timeline that apparently no longer exists is most certainly an unintended side effect. If Miles's status as a time traveler weren't so important to keep secret, this might be the sort of thing Dr. Niadem would ask him eight thousand questions about. Sonia, thank god, is not a scientist, and merely thinks, What a strange sense of humor the cosmos must have.

She lets those implications sink in, letting her mind run along threads to logical conclusions, and she covers her mouth with one hand. Of all things, the idea of Miles dying as a small child strikes her heart the strongest. Little Mikhail is hardly older than this alternate Miles was when he died. For a few moments, she can only think about how his parents must have felt, about how gutting such a loss must have been. How would Olivia weather her own child passing away at such a young age? Given the circumstances, Sonia is certain the thought has occurred to her sister. A uniquely Barrayaran combination of insanity and determination, to risk raising small children in a place like this, in a time like this.

And then Miles must have come home only to find himself without one, or one so very displaced. When she bade Miles and Byerly goodbye, she was thinking of their free Barrayar, that light-filled Vorbarr Sultana. It had seemed, at the time, that things could only get better for them once they were safely home. But when Miles had returned to the future, it was one where he had no real place. More than anything else, Sonia looks absolutely heartbroken.

"Oh, Miles," she murmurs, cupping her hands around her mead instead of reaching for him. This isn't an easy story to relay, she knows. "I'm so sorry. I never thought your presence here would have such an effect on the timeline."

Not that there was anything she or anyone else could really do about it. None of them had any way of knowing. But the idea that Sonia now lives in a world where her favorite grandnephew won't survive to see his fourth birthday is somehow gutting, even if she is already aware that she never lived long enough to meet Miles in his original timeline.

"Your parents — your family," she says, because he must have other family now if the Count's heir died so young, "did they believe you then, with Simon vouching for you?"

It's obvious from the hope in her eyes that she wants that to be true. Please let Miles have had some home to come back to, even if it wasn't the one he left.

Honestly? This time around, Miles might talk to Dr. Niadem about it. At least, if he thinks the good doctor can keep a secret as large as this. Simon has threatened to kill Miles himself if he even THINKS of creating a third timeline, given how many headaches he's given the man already, and Miles fully intends to avoid said murder and/or strangling attempts. For a lot of reasons.

There is so much tragedy wound up in this, so much he could dig into. Will dig into, probably. But for this question, at least, he can reward her hope. "In an instant," he says, his expression warming for the first time since starting this story. "I was a miracle beyond hope to them. Their son, a healthy adult, returned to them decades after my death." Here he pauses for a moment, and revises that last part. "Well. Mostly healthy. My mother made the most awful faces when I explained all of my current issues."

Allergies, bone problems, seizures, etc. Miles shrugs a little. For him, the worst part had been their reactions, given how unused he is to having to explain such things to his parents. His original ones had been all too aware of every detail. "Simon told them how I was doing sometimes, in the original timeline," Miles says. "I think he thought it a poor idea at the time, but it meant that they knew me when I returned to them, and I'm grateful for that." Another ragged little shrug. "My sisters and Mark had a more complex reaction, and understandably so."

Didn't he say he was an only child before? He's definitely ever mentioned sisters, and probably not Mark either.

Edited 2025-09-28 02:37 (UTC)

Oh, thank God. Relief heaves in her chest, and tears of relief prick at the corners of her eyes. She blinks them back with already damp eyelashes. Thank God, not just for him but for his parents. Imagine getting that kind of closure. Even if he returned to an unfamiliar future, at least he'd been welcomed back into the family. Good — good. It's good to know her family is so strong. She finds herself holding onto that thought with unusual ferocity.

"This Simon of yours sounds extraordinary," she comments, once she's pushed back the tide of tears. It's too early still. "Most men would assume they were going mad, getting double memories like that. I'm sure I would."

Sonia finds herself wishing she could meet Simon Illyan. This is a danger of learning about the future she hasn't fully encountered before — not the dreaded knowledge of one's own life to come, the strange hungering to know people you will not live to meet. She assumes, anyway. She doesn't know it, but she would adore Simon.

She blinks again, eyebrows rising. Miles most definitely has never mentioned sisters. They hadn't talked much about family in detail — for very good reason, but Sonia was always under the impression that Miles was an only child. Surely if there had been a brother, it would have caused some kind of succession schism.

"To be honest, I never really pictured you with siblings," Sonia says, sipping slowly at her mead, "let alone sisters." She hesitates. "Is Mark Lord Vorkosigan, then?"

She can't quite stop herself from asking, but she's starting to wonder how much she should really be asking. Even if it is a changed future, it's still the future, and as far as she knows, this is the future she's heading towards, too. But she can't quite bring herself to cut the conversation short all the same. Wishful thinking, perhaps. Concern for Miles, a desire to know that he's really alright, most certainly.

"He is," Miles agrees immediately. "He's a godsend and he deserves more than I can give him." Poor Simon, honestly, the man deserved none of this, and yet the man has stepped up in so many ways. Miles still isn't sure what he'd have done if ImpSec (and Simon) hadn't showed up in Silvy Vale to guide him home post amputation. Probably, he'd still have gone to his family, and now be half mad from the grief of being shut out, or from the chaos his sudden arrival would have prompted without Simon's guiding influence. The man deserves not to have a third timeline in his head, dammit.

At Is Mark Lord Vorkosigan? Miles can't help but twitch. It's a PERFECTLY reasonable question but it still feels wrong to even think about. Sorry Mark. That's a compliment, he swears. "That's because I didn't have them in my original timeline," Miles says. "Aside from Mark, who is a complex topic in either timeline." Frankly, he's just glad that Mark still exists in a timeline that Miles died early. Doubly grateful that this Mark didn't get tormented in Miles's image. "Mother ... ah ... blamed Gran'da for my death. And promptly insisted on only daughters from then on out."

Which still doesn't fucking explain Mark, but. He's not sure he's ready to talk about clones right at this exact second. Sisters and succession first. "Count's choice before count's blood, and all. My sister Lakshmi is the heir to Vorkosigan's district, and currently Lady Vorkosigan."

There are a lot of complex topics flying around here, so Sonia tries to stay focused on the main thread. Her eyes dim with a kind of dismay at Miles's mother's accusation towards Piotr, not because it wounds her, but because she has little difficulty imagining it. Suffice to say that things are a little extra complicated in Miles's branch of the family tree.

But it's the news about his sister that grabs hold of her attention, her eyes brightening in simultaneous delight and disbelief. "House Vorkosigan's current heir is a woman? Really?"

She lets out a little gleeful snicker at how that would affect Piotr's Vorish sensibilities, and how it would absolutely tickle her sister's. Oh, if Olivia only knew. No one would be more pleased to see a Countess Vorkosigan lead in more than just name. But his sister's name...her name registers on a brief delay, and Sonia's eyes widen slightly before her glance slides to the small brazier tucked away in one corner of the tent. She's burned offerings every year, for Lakshmi and Tucker and Maine.

"Is she...named after Rani?"

Honestly? That's the right thing to focus on here. For all that Miles's relationships with his sisters have had their issues thus far, he frankly adores them. They're one of the reasons why he can't be fully upset by the changes he's created, and why he can't try to undo all of this. Successfully restoring his timeline would mean undoing all five of them, and condemning Mark to torment, and ...

He brightens in turn, mirroring her delight with a flicker of his own. "Just so," he says, an ache of sorrow undercutting his own smile. He hasn't hit the anniversary yet, but he's burned plenty of offerings himself, too. "It's a name with niche popularity in my time. The legendary female Ranger who drove off an entire battalion of Cetagandan invaders." Exaggerated, of course, as such stories tend to become, but... "Of course Mother selected her name. A real firebrand, the future Countess."

Ah, yes — Miles's mother is Betan too. Not at all surprising that she'd support a female heir. Sonia finds herself wishing she could know more about the woman who married Miles's father — who, at this point, she still assumes to be Mikhail.

"I can only imagine," Sonia murmurs, gazing contemplatively into her cup. She's drank more than she realized; perhaps it's time to slow down. But it warms her to know that Barrayar changes so. A free Barrayar, in the future — freer than she'd even dreamed. She looks up at Miles, brow furrowing. "Miles...is it really alright for you to be telling me all of this? If your presence here alone changed the future so much..."

What an excellent question. The truth is, Miles is almost entirely certain that Sonia dies before the point where she can affect things. Yeah, he’s not giving her that answer. He has not been here nearly long enough to wrestle properly with that particular thought. He can feel it already threatening to consume all of his attention. If there’s one thing to change …

(Well. Two things, but every bit of history he dug up around Yuri has increasingly led him to believe that that is a knot that he can’t handle in the gordian way. As much as he would love to cut a problem in half with a sword.)

He breaks the moment of silence with a sharp little shrug. His own cup is getting quite low indeed. “Honestly? I don’t know,” he says, and that is still truthful enough. “But I think what I’ve said is safe enough, and I will go mad if I don’t tell anyone.” He waves his one good arm.

"That's fair," she allows, because the last thing she wants is Miles going mad with secrets. She knows there's no one else here he can really confide in, either. And she wants to be that person for him, because he's been there for her, give her a comfort no one else could have. But all the same...

"I suppose I'm just worried I'll alter things by accident. Just by knowing things. And things have already changed so much..." She frowns, her lips pursed together as she searches for the words. "What if I do something that makes it so that you're never even born? A wrong word to the wrong person, or choosing the wrong person, or..."

Five years ago, the Barrayar of Miles and Byerly's future had felt so distant, so impossibly out of reach. A fantasy — a fairy tale, even. But now it seems uncannily close.

Sonia already knows that she will die before Miles is old enough to remember her. That much was clear when he'd confessed to being from the future, even if she'd been too drunk for it to register at the time. He was different from how he'd imagined her, he'd said. Not how he remembered her. But that had been alright; it had seemed like such a far-off future that her own inevitable death felt like an insignificant detail, nothing to trouble her in her sleep.

The gap between them is slowly closing, she realizes. An entire generation between them had been a comfortable buffer, a ward against the thought of changing the future. But Miles's father has already been born. He is a real person in the real world, someone she's watched over closely ever since his birth, one she will watch over for the rest of her natural life. She can now see the thread of living people between her and Miles, a direct connection that had once seemed so abstracted. Strangely enough, the future now seems like something she could reach out and touch with her own fingers.

She reaches out to cup Miles's face in one affectionate hand, smoothing her thumb over his cheek, then lightly tousles his hair and draws her hand back with a faint smile. "I suppose I still just have to have faith."

Miles had indeed said all that, hadn’t he? Not that he remembers now, but he’d do better not to underestimate his great-aunt. Bright as a star, that one.

No, he just leans into the hair tousle with a soft laugh. “You will indeed,” he says. “I’d prefer not to return to another changed timeline, but … “ Well that’s an answer all its own isn’t it? Hell, the way that comment comes so readily to his own mouth actively surprises him. He likes his sisters. He is glad that Mark has a chance at a normal body, to only resent the image of Miles rather than the sum total of him. Simon is more of a friend now, even, given they are the only two people in existence to remember both timelines. It counter balances the other losses some: Ivan, no longer a brother in all but name. Gregor, similar, the Dendarii … nonexistent.

Bothari, though. God. He remembers the first time he saw that man in his mother’s shadow, the way he’d glared at Miles from a distance. A miracle beyond hope for Miles too, that one, and equally full of complications.

“You’ll just have to have faith,” he repeats, breathing the words. “And so will I.”

If only Sonia could understand the true breadth in scope of how Miles's life had changed — but she can tell it's changed enough, and that it in turn has changed him. She recognizes that peculiar arithmetic of the heart, counting your losses against your gains when everything you thought you knew has changed. She'd done some counting herself, once she'd been on Barrayar long enough that her life on Beta Colony began to feel like an oft-remembered dream, when she'd realized there never really would be going back, not in the way she'd hoped fifteen years ago.

"I know you will," Sonia says softly, and then, after a moment, puffs out a little breath and takes Miles's cup, setting it aside on a small low table with her own.

"Oh, come here, you," she says in equal parts fondness, exasperation and relief, and pulls him in for a tight hug. A proper hug, now that they're in private and can act like the family they are. "I really have missed you so, Miles. Things haven't been the same since you left."

God, he has been aching for this from the start. Miles all but hurls himself into her arms, his laugh choking into a hiccupy sob as he gets one arm around her. (The other tries but just can’t quite make it all the way round.) “The same to you,” he says. “I wished I could talked to you about all of it. I kept a journal even.”

And where is it? WHERE IS IT? On his goddamn nightstand, nowhere on his person. Dammit. He should have just carried with him at all times just in case. Absolutely rude of the universe to do this to him.

Anyway. “You need to update me on how the family is doing,” he says with another choked laugh. “Gran’da and all the rest.”

A journal. God, she wishes she could have been there to listen, even if she's worried that she's already heard too much. Sonia is a highly sympathetic crier and tears are already welling up in her eyes again, but that's a foregone conclusion by now. She just holds Miles tight for a few moments, then she pulls back with a little sniff, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Well, for starters, you need to get used to not calling him Gran'da for the next month." Her smile warms. "Livvy and Count Piotr are doing well. As well as they can be, under the circumstances, but they're so..." She waves a hand, groping for the words, then scrunches up her nose with a small laugh. "They're so Vor. Sometimes it seems like nothing in the world could touch them. About as forgiving as stone, those two, and just as hard to move."

There is an unmistakable fondness touched with awe, and just a sliver of wry humor. "My sister insisted on staying here with the children, you know. She dismissed the notion of taking them — well, us — to some secret, safer place right out of hand. She said there is no safer place than here, and she's probably right. But I can't imagine trying to raise children in a place like this. I help look after the boys as much as I can, though."

Sonia's not quite sure she has the resolve to raise children in a war like this, if she could be the mother of warriors her sister is so obviously cut out to be. She doesn't go into any deeper detail on the subject, though, Miles being their grandson. It's one thing to see your grandfather in his prime; another to see your own father as a small child. Not that Miles isn't resilient, but she suspects it'd be a shock to anyone's psyche.

"Da is still out there, rallying for support. It's been about a year since we last saw him, but he's out there, trying to drum up more aid. My mother and brother are still safe on Beta Colony." They're almost strangers now, fifteen years separated. She's not sure how much they'll still feel like family by the time the war is finally over. But she brightens, straightening up, and gives him an impish smile. "And I remain defiantly single."

Well. Miles is resilient, but Sonia casually saying I help look after the boys still sets his head to spinning for a moment. Shit, his father would have been born by now, right? Must be, given the plural. Aral and … Mikhail, wasn’t it? He researched this dutifully, but now that he’s finally in the water, he finds himself struggling to remember how to swim. Better find out before he makes a mistake there.

It’s much easier to think of his gran’da - no, Count Piotr - out there fighting the good fight. He wonders, idly, if he should even try to talk to the man again, given he suspects that that was the main point of change, as much as any single action was.

“The boys, eh,” he says after a moment. “I hope they’re doing well. Perhaps I’ll get a chance to see them.” Perhaps he’ll run screaming into the night from the shock after. Maybe, maybe. But there’s more important things now, like gossip. “No prospects even? A shame to deprive the local dating pool of your presence, but…” No, he gets it. It’s cute. He’s glad to see her thriving on her own.

Sonia's brow knits a little at Miles's mention of seeing her nephews. His father and uncle. She's not about to tell Miles what to do, but...

"Well, if the fancy strikes you, just come find me whenever I'm busy finding Misha. He's decided hide-and-seek is his favorite game. Specifically, he hides, and everyone responsible for him turns over every rock in the camp seeking him." She is, of course, exaggerating, and rather fondly. It's not so much that she doesn't trust Miles with her nephews as much as it is that she's sure no one else would. That, and she suspects she may need to intervene at some point for Miles's own sanity.

She lets out a laugh at Miles's very — well, very Betan framing of her personal life, given the time period. "What local dating pool? Miles, have you forgotten where we are?" She gestures vaguely at the camp at large. "Every man here is loyal to Count Piotr and the Emperor-my-grandfather. They're all much more afraid of those two than they are interested in me."

This was the source of much of her loneliness five years ago, when the Beta Colony adolescence her sister had enjoyed, she could only covet, and her only means of any semblance to it had been by way of sneaking around to meet handsome young officers who didn't know her by face yet. And she still suffers from this particular loneliness — how could she not? — but it's taken a different shape since she met Tucker. Since she lost Tucker.

She blows out a long breath through pursed lips, eyebrows raised. "Of course there are prospects. Name me a Count who doesn't have a son he'd like to marry off to the last Vorbarra Princess. Even at my advanced age." One corner of her mouth quirks up. Of course, a Princess of nearly thirty might as well be an old maid. "But I know where I need to be. It's here, with my sisters and the children, and I'm not going to let myself be passed around as a political pawn. Grandfather has sent potential suitors here — fine officers, every one of them, and of the most exquisite Vor pedigree. Some of them were even quite handsome." The lighthearted smile slips away, betraying a deep disappointment, a little bite of bitterness. "But not one of those idiots could figure out how to make me laugh."

Yeah uh. Odds are very good that the Count won't be terribly keen on a mutie handling his sons, even if said mutie exceeded all expectations five years ago. For everyone's sake, Miles might be safest at a distance. Which means he is almost certainly going to find some way to get up close at some point. Misha, god. Of course. Mikhail for sure, then. He struggles to think of what the diminutive for Aral must be. Ratya?

Anyway. He lets out a very dismissive snort at Sonia being anywhere near an "advanced age." Still younger than him, dammit, even if not by much any more. And the suitors, well ... Yes, he understands the Vorish side of that too, even if he was more commonly on the other side of it. Is again, now, with Lakshmi gone, and his own position disrupted. Sometimes he considers trying to find the woman that Byerly had predicted to be his future wife, and sometimes he despairs at recreating whatever conditions led him to her to begin with. Surely, there is no recapturing it now.

"None of them?" he says, with a playful sort of frown. "Well that's a damn shame. And frankly an affront to our military, doing you such a disservice." Surely there's someone. Ivan clearly got his everything from someone, and it sure wasn't Alys. But while his response is light, he can certainly hear that bitterness in her own words. "Faith and time yet, I think," he says with another sip of mead. "I try to remember the same for myself."

"None of them." She's quite firm about it, jaw tight, but after a moment it melts away in a sigh. "Oh, Miles, I know I'll find someone." That much, she knows, is ordained for her — if by inevitability, if by no other principle. She would find it rather harder to remain unmarried on Barrayar. "I just want it to be to someone who sees me as a person first and a Princess second. I don't wish to be anyone's charge, and I don't want to...settle."

She knows that her sister is supremely lucky, in some ways: Olivia and Piotr's love is genuine, and it goes deep. Fortunate for Olivia that their father could not raise suitable objection on the grounds of Piotr's politics alone — what Vor lord better suited to her hand in marriage than one of Emperor Dorca's most trusted subordinates? Even Yuri hadn't had much to complain about when it came to their marriage. But Sonia, as much as she is a dreamer, knows fortune when she sees it.

"I want to be somebody's great love," she says with a grand sigh, knocking back what's left in her cup with a little inward hiss. "The kind of romance they write songs about. And perhaps the occasional naughty story."

She gives Miles an outrageous little smile. God, Tucker had made her laugh. She knew they were never destined to have a great love — they had so little time — but it had felt like the beginning of one. Surely, even on Barrayar, there must be one man who knows how to make her laugh, who won't turn red or clam up at a dirty joke made by a proper Vor lady. And one, most preferably, within five years of her own age.

"I refuse to settle for anything less," she says, her tone light, but the conviction in it is truly Vor. She finds it hard to believe that there's never been any romance in Miles's life, even if he seems decidedly single now. And before, as none of his time travel laments included a lost love, although she sees a yearning in his eyes, twinned to hers. Mourning a broken promise of a future, perhaps.

"Faith and time," she repeats affirmingly, a bounce of a nod. "Though I suspect you have rather a lot more meaningful experience in romance than I do."

Barrayaran prejudices being what the are, she knows Miles has spent plenty of time off-planet — on Beta Colony, gallivanting about with his mercenaries, and who knows where else? And he has such an electric personality. It just draws one in so quickly. Surely somewhere out there in the greater Nexus —

Ah. She smiles ruefully in sudden insight. "But...perhaps none of them were on Barrayar?"

"You should never settle," Miles agrees immediately. Sonia of all people, settle? God no. He is going to stay the hell out of directly impacting her personal affairs aside from this one small aside. Sonia should have a good match, dammit, and he's confident she can do that. "And I'll be the first out there singing the songs about you, if you don't mind me doing that as bawdily as possible."

He meets her outrageous smile with a grin of his own. HAD there been songs? Well - maybe, he frankly didn't go digging into the folk tunes all that much, but he guesses someone has made songs just as inevitably as someone has made films about the Occupation years. And his father's own adventures. Perhaps they'd have done the same for him in time, if that timeline had persisted. The encounter at Vervain at least...

Well, that's all gone now. It's almost easier to refocus on Sonia's question. "Well - er - that's correct," Miles says, as a simple version of the complex answer. How does he classify Elena Bothari-Jezek, for example? "I had many a flirtatious attempt on Barrayar, but nothing resembling a solid relationship until I was offworld. Beta Colony was ... challenging in a different way." That's all he has to say about THAT particular relationship. "My other two major relationships were with my mercenary fleet. Elli Quinn and Taura."

Ah, he misses them most of all, he thinks. And Bel too, come to think of it, though that had never quite sparked off. Every now and then, Miles wonders if he could call up Bel wherever they are now and give them this whole wild story. He strongly suspects the herm would be entranced and disbelieving both. At least Taura had gotten a rescue of sorts, albeit in very different circumstances. Simon's chip providing guidance again.

(And there is Lakshmi, of course, gone ... unless she has by some miracle been called here... )

Miles swallows a bit to get himself back on course. "Phenomenal women, both of them. Neither the sort to settle for less, which baffled me, but." A little shrug. Look. Miles is eternally aware that his appeal is all personality. "Strong willed. Incredible fighters. I'd have been delighted to bring either of them home, but you know first hand how constraining Barrayar can seem to a galactic."

Edited 2025-10-10 19:00 (UTC)

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vorbratta - 2025-10-15 00:21 (UTC) - Expand

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dendarii - 2025-10-17 14:12 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ reunion event ]

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PUNCHES A WALL I LOVE THEMMMM

ME TOOOO god they're so good

they're perfect. thank god they get to hang out again

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