More power dynamics AU

[unclassifiable]

Simon was standing in the Emperor’s sitting room, at casual parade rest—inasmuch as as that wasn’t an oxymoron. He felt rather calm, as he always did when he had fixed on the solution to a problem.

Simon had been turning the problem over in his mind for the past couple of months, firming his resolve as the rumor mill continue to turn, until it became obvious that this issue was not going to conveniently disappear. Frankly, Simon admitted that they’d simply been lucky that it was only now coming up in force. There had been a vague rustle about it when Gregor initially came into his majority, but people’s thirst for scandal had mostly been slaked on placing bets on when, not if, the Regent would usurp the young Emperor. At the time, it had been a relief to Simon, who still saw a child when he looked at his Emperor.

Now, the impromptu ‘vacation’ the Emperor had decided to take had fired the imaginations of the Vors, both politically active and not. Simon was impressed at the variety of forms the rumors took, but they all boiled down to the same thing: the Emperor’s lack of participation in a system held dear with the glue of tradition was going to be an issue. It was variably seen as a sign of impotency, a dangerous disregard for the honor of the Vor and the military, and an exploitable hint of friction between the Emperor and his Chief of security.

There was another impetus to get this out of the way too. Though Simon had been grateful enough to put it off while Gregor was still essentially a teenager, it sat uncomfortably with Simon to be… well, he couldn’t help but think of it as shirking his duty. This current spate of rumors reinforced that feeling. He knew it was irrational, just like he knew his refusal to be promoted past Captain was irrational, but Negri had… left his mark on Simon. Him and Ezar both. He’d been their creature for over a decade, loyal to them as he was now loyal to Vorkosigan, though that loyalty had had a very, very different basis.

So. He had identified what needs must be done. Only the execution remained. Ideal location was easy to determine—It would have to be Gregor’s private chambers, to facilitate consummation. Simon could request a meeting there specifically, make sure to be seen on the way there, and that should do wonders for the rumor mill. Gregor was generally intensely private, but he would acquiesce to a strong request, if only out of curiosity. Perhaps he might even deduce the agenda for the meeting, though it was anyone's guess if that would make things more or less difficult. Method was a trickier problem. As was now… quite apparent, Gregor was no longer a child and he wouldn’t fold out of habit. Not to mention his very, very Betan sex education. Enthusiastic, uncoerced consent... Simon snorted to himself. The thought of seeing his Emperor naked didn’t repulse him, and that would have to do. He didn’t examine his feelings on it any further than that. All the best covers needed a grain of truth but it could be a very, very small grain.

Comments

[vorbarra]

That look makes him want to provoke a smile that is unsmothered. Gregor has not the first idea how he would go about doing that-- he's never even wanted to try before. He wonders if getting wine together for tonight would be... too much, too fast. He wishes this more straight-forward and not predicated on a falsehood; Simon himself is intimidating enough to make this difficult on its own.

He gives his own half-formed look of sincere amusement, some of the lingering tension fading with it. It's almost a loss to see it go, but it's a relief, too. "That joke is almost too apt," he tells him, dry. "But I shouldn't hold you up forever."

He wonders if they could have a more personal debriefing later, a much more friendly how was your day sort of exchange, all the internal, emotional details left vacant from their official exchanges. That seems a reasonable step, but monumental enough on its own.

[unclassifiable]

Simon excuses him with a neat analyst's salute, and a parting murmur of "Sire" as he takes himself away to his duty.

And he determinedly doesn't think about Gregor for the rest of the day, at least not in a personal context. The impulse to replay a scene frame by frame in his head had trapped him too many times in the past; he recognized it as an unproductive habit. In most cases, over-analysis tended to obscure more than it revealed. And there was no hidden agenda, at least, not a particularly deep one. What Gregor wanted for this evening was something that would become apparent in approximately twelve hours.

One of the benefits (and one of its drawbacks, in other circumstances) of the chip was always being able to fill his head with something. He set the memory of that morning aside and replaced it with an endless array of reports, relentlessly dictating his own focus over the next twelve hours. Having run on ahead of his normal daily workload, he pulled all the newly submitted reports—just before end of the work day; doubtlessly try to push of their debriefing as far as possible to avoid some idiot thing they had done—and was still reviewing them and composing his remarks as he waited in Gregor's sitting room, jacket and boots removed as had become customary.