barrayar | I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

Ah. Yes. I should explain to you about all that, since I'm attempting honesty with you now. I was doing a lot more maneuvering than you could see. [Which Gregor apparently has no problem explaining to him in retrospect.]

First of all, my other ability here, the oaths one, disallows oaths made insincerely. It'd never have worked if you hadn't meant it; I felt it take, so I knew you did, and furthermore if you developed some duplicitous motive later you'd be barred from hurting any of us anyway.

As for the matter of giving you a blank check, I'm not sure this will make sense to a Jacksonian, but the fact of the matter is that I owe all the Imperium the very same. My life is not my own. [He'd sounded cavalier until this point, but now his voice drops, quiet and heavy under the weight.] It has never been my own. I needs must balance what you're owed with what I owe everyone else, so there is some limit to what I'd give you-- quite a lot of limit. But if it's within my power, yes, you personally were owed something.

[A beat.]

And if you'd like all the calculations, I admit I am predisposed to think you must be more than just an assassin, if given the opportunity. By genetic code alone, whatever relation you want to claim or disclaim. I hardly thought I was getting nothing out of the deal.

[ The vague prickle of feeling used - sure, of course the way to counteract the promise of a blank check is to move your funds into a different account - is balanced with a grudging respect. He doesn't want to be manipulated. God, he doesn't want to be manipulated. He'd like it if his liege-lord were truly honest. But no one really is, and so if he isn't, at the very least he can be canny.

Maybe canny actually is better than completely honest, now that he thinks about it.

Better thinking about that than thinking about his genetic code. He pushes on, past that vague compliment that's not a compliment to him, exactly - ]

I could get around it, though. I promised to not to do you harm. I didn't make any promise of...calling in my favor as - asking you to be in a specific place at a specific time, and letting harm come to you. If - the Komarrans show up here. I could put you in their path.

[ The thought fills him with the ache of nausea. He looks down at his plate, and picks at the last crumbs of egg. Wonders if he could take the last omelet, or if that's for Gregor... ]

I'm not all that dumb, [he says dryly.] But if you're so worried about it, then decide not to. What it comes down to is that I've decided to give you a chance. Until you've given me a reason otherwise, I'm going to trust you.

[Plus, Gregor has to admit there is a strong sense of let's see what happens behind this. Give this poor clone a chance to be something other than a clone, and what will he do? Gregor has no more idea than he does, but he's very interested in finding out.

Internally, he scratches lightly at the shut door, barely enough to count as a polite knock. If he opens it just a bit, he'll be able to feel all that patience and curiosity and, yes, developing trust.]

You can feel it for yourself if you like.

[ Mark looks at Gregor, and then takes a moment to compose himself, pressing down all his fear and anxiety - the mental equivalent of shoving your clothes under your bed before you answer the door to let company in. But Mark, like all people who live in a perpetually messy room, doesn't really have a good eye for neatness: he opens the connection, and thinks it's fine, but for Gregor there'll be an instant spillover of anxiety and sickness and all the ugly feelings stirred up by the mention of the Komarrans coming here. And, hell, all the ugly feelings that are just a running baseline for poor Mark.

He eases the door shut again as soon as he tests out Gregor's feelings. ]

It just doesn't make sense that - everything isn't a reason otherwise.

[Gregor has himself a bit more prepared this time, but he'd been half-wondering if all the onslaught of last night wasn't just due to the circumstances. Apparently not. He has no trace of reaction on his face, but truthfully, it's hard for him to feel some of that seep over like black oil floating on water. Gregor is prone to depressive thoughts already and he doesn't need any encouragement.

There's a reason he's been worried about what will happen when he and Miles both end up on a down swing at the same time...

For now it's not too bad with just these glimpses. He takes on a practical tone as he answers.] One of us has to do it, and it seems cruel to expect it from you when I hold all the cards.

[Not to mention, Trust beyond all reason gets results beyond all hope, keeps running through his head.]

[ The assertion that Gregor holds all the cards, for whatever reason, calms Mark a little. Who knows why. It ought to be frustrating, being once again powerless, but instead, it just makes him feel like he didn't come out badly in the negotiations. It makes him feel less like a fool, reminding himself that he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered and still came out of it with life intact, sheltered by the Barrayaran Imperium. Not cowardice - intelligence.

It feels like cowardice. There's a sudden sharp spike of anger, hot enough to bleed over in spite of the tightly shut-off link. What does he owe Ser Galen, anyway? He's not loyal to their cause. He doesn't care about their cause. He was conscripted without ever being consulted.

Why should he feel guilty?

He speaks evenly enough, in spite of his emotional turmoil. ]

You say that like trust is a thing that has to happen. I could have walked away.

[That anger is interesting, but Gregor can't begin to guess at its cause. There could be a thousand things. He certainly has justification for a whole array of reasons to be angry. Besides, Gregor feels it's a little too close to the line on invading privacy to react to something he wasn't deliberately given.]

Oh, yes-- I did account for that. I could tell you those calculations, too, but they're depressing. I just thought... No one had really asked you yet. So I asked.

[ Mark looks down at his plate a long moment, his brows furrowed. He's quiet a moment, two, before looking up again. He speaks a little quietly. ]

Thanks. For...asking.

[ Because...Yeah. Yeah. Gregor is the first person who ever did ask. In all his life. The first person ever to give him a real choice. And that alone is enough for loyalty.

Another moment, then: ]

Would you have given up on it if I had walked away?

[As self-confident and poised as he can seem, Gregor is not immune to being thanked and there is some warm relief, even gladness, at knowing he hadn't made the wrong decision there. He'd stepped in and overridden anyone else's ability to handle the situation-- it's more heavy-handed than Gregor usually likes to be. But he's getting used to that, gradually; he's starting to learn when to step forward and when to step back.

Getting confirmation he'd made the right choice here is beyond nice.

At the question, he sets back in his chair, clearly taking this seriously.] Not entirely. The sincerity clause in my oath binding opens up a lot of avenues for me on that front. But the wording of the oath I'd have demanded would change, and I'd want... mm, proof, something, to demonstrate why you'd changed your mind.

So given up, no. But not pursued you, either. I would've respected your decision.

What about him?

[ No question, of course, who he is. ]

[In a voice as dry as dust,] Despite what you've been told, I do not jump at the whims of Vorkosigans. Whatever relationship you have with them is your own. If you'd like me to intercede, you may ask.

[ Mark grunts. And he says: ]

I despise him, you know. That's not going to change.

[If Gregor couldn't separate his personal feelings from his Imperial feelings, Aral Vorkosigan would probably sense it from across all of space-time and show up to lecture him about it. Him being in the same city just shortens his travel time.

He refrains his sarcastic instinct to say, I wouldn't know; I've never had a brother, judging that he still needs a delicate hand here.]

Like I said, whatever relationship you have with them is your own. They could disown you tomorrow and you'd still be my liege-sworn. [Gregor holds his gaze with his, steady.] Understand?

[ Another grunt. He crosses his arms and sits back, regarding Gregor. ]

No speeches at all about how I should give him a chance? I'm surprised.

I was speaking as the Emperor. If you'd like me to just talk to you as myself, that's a different conversation.

[ He scratches his cheek, then flips up a hand in invitation. Go ahead. ]

... It's impossible for me to be unbiased on the subject. They've carried me, often literally, from the time I was four years old. Every doubt in them I've ever had has been disproven, every trust in them validated.

But you've been fed a stack of vitriolic lies on them for your whole life, [Gregor counters himself bluntly.] I don't expect some pretty words from me to dissuade you. If you want an insider's view, I can give you that, but for the most part I think you'll have to see for yourself.

The insider's view. Your memories of them?

[He stills.] You want to see my memories directly? [he asks slowly, to be sure.

Gregor's not sure how he feels about that. He does extend some preliminary trust, and he has a lot of good-feeling toward him in general, but memories are so... personal. They come with feelings, impressions, not just factual recountings. It would reveal a lot of his own weaknesses. He's not sure.]

[ He can see the reticence in Gregor's face and pulls back, just a little bit. ]

I don't...want to. I thought that was what you were offering.

[A long moment's pause.]

Are we still talking without the Imperium behind it? [He looks shuttered as he asks that, but that he's asking at all is Gregor's version of how Mark had slowed down eating earlier: a signal of trust growing.]

[ A little shrug. ]

Can we speak without the Imperium behind it? I'd like that better.

[ Because the Emperor was a target for assassination. Gregor wasn't. Gregor was only...collateral damage in killing the Emperor. I'd sooner talk to him, thanks. ]

[A twist of his lips, concealed dark humor.] That is the question, [he murmurs. Can he ever separate himself from the Imperium that much? It's just a fiction that he does. But it's a fiction that he needs to stay sane.

Gregor lets out a breath.] All right. It unnerves me because I have had to guard my weaknesses very closely, my whole life. You probably know something about that. But if you'd like to see one memory, one that has nothing to do with the Imperium, I think I have one I could share.

[Trust. Trust. He's the one saying he needs to take that step and expecting Mark to do it would be cruel. Practicing what you preach is tough.]

[ Honestly? No. He doesn't want to see a memory. He feels like if that memory turns out to be miserable, it'll just hurt to see - and if the memory is happy, it'll hurt even worse. But after all this, refusing would be...really awkward. And a little painful for Gregor, he thinks.

He's not sure when he started caring enough about Gregor to worry about whether or not he's being caused pain. He's not sure when he started caring about causing pain. It might be that he always cared, and he just never really actually inflicted pain before...He doesn't know.

Anyway. ]

All right. If you want to.

[Truthfully, he's not as sanguine about not advocating for the Vorkosigans as he's trying to put across. Gregor wants for them to be happy-- all four of them, as he really does include him in that number, admittedly with a proviso for if he declares himself not one of them, he will amend his view. Or he'll try to. He just has so many emotional memories tied up in this family, it's extremely difficult for Gregor to separate everything. That he's managed to so far is real testament to how strictly he maintains his Imperial facade.]

I don't want to, exactly, but I think it would do you good to see it. [He sounds self-conscious, but accepting. More gently,] You'll have to open up.

[And he is simultaneously bracing himself for the resulting rush of anxiety he expects to feel.]

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