Private Beyond Your Command

[Natasi Fortan]

CERULEAN GATE PALACE
NEW STERANDEL - AEGIS
6 WEEKS AFTER 'LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE'
[VIBES]​

Natasi had been forced to postpone the appointment with the royal physician twice.

The first time was defensible. The Prime Minister had requested that she invite a delegation from Eos for tea and a photo opportunity, and the delegation had come equipped with an inexhaustible appetite for both tea and photos. The second delay was not quite as convincing; after a long day of engagements Natasi had been uncharacteristically tired and sent her regrets. Sir Gideon was his usual self: serious, understanding, professional, and silently judgmental in ways that were perfectly plausible deniable. His ability to be passive aggressive was one of the more comforting traits Natasi saw in her royal physician.

This morning, after Natasi woke from a night of sleep as tired as before she had retired, she had taken one look at Dyrn Grav and the subtle furrow of his brow -- which she recognized as concern and both loved and regretted -- and sent her lady's maid with word that she would see Sir Gideon at his earliest convenience. She told herself that she had likely picked up some bug from one of the hundreds of hands she had shaken that week. The doctor would give her a vitamin injection and send her on her merry way. She told Dyrn so and sent him off to breakfast without her.

She entered the medical suite of offices in Cerulean Gate Palace. The suite was a miniature hospital disguised as a country doctor's surgery: a study for him, two exam rooms, two surgical rooms, two recovery wards, plus a very modern laboratory. Luckily for Natasi, there was no gum-popping receptionist, no telephones, no waiting room. The doctor had just one small set of patients, and Natasi Fortan was number one on his priority list. Sir Gideon Edevane, M.D., stood when Natasi entered and bowed shallowly. "Your Majesty, good morning."

"Good morning," Natasi said pleasantly. "You look well. How was your trip to Elea?"

"Oh, very nice, ma'am, thank you. Mrs. Edevane took some watercolor courses. She fancies herself a burgeoning master."

Natasi offered a half-smile. "And you?"

Sir Gideon knew what she meant, and she knew he knew, but he answered smoothly: "I went on fishing excursions that somehow turned into napping on expensive boats." He shut the door and directed Natasi to an exam bench, then crossed to a small sink and washed his hands thoroughly. "Tell me what has been happening."

"I sent a list," Natasi said rigidly, clearly uncomfortable discussing anything so pedestrian as being tired and nauseated in front of a medical professional.

"It was -- four words?" He took the list off his desk and put his pince-nez on his nose to read it. "Fatigue, nausea, headache, dizziness."

"A comprehensive list," Natasi said, dry humor spilling into her voice. "I thought you would approve."

"For how long?"

Natasi shifted and gathered her hands in her lap, feeling all of a sudden and quite ridiculously like a little girl being summoned before the headmaster for a ticking off. "Maybe three weeks, a month? It is intermittent." She looked over at him; he was staring at her with an inquisitive look. "Not so much that I am incapable of performing my duties. I just... have been more tired than usual. Particularly in the late afternoon. Twice I have fallen asleep while reading the evening dispatch box," she said, in a tone that suggested this was the greatest of scandals.

"Is that unusual?"

"Quite. I do not tend to fall asleep while working."

He made a note. "And the nausea?"

"Two weeks, give or take."

"Any particular time? Related any particular activities?"

"Sometimes in the morning, either when I first wake or at breakfast." She paused a moment. "Mr. Kenat wore a new cologne that was so overwhelming I had to ask him to revert back to his previous scent -- it caused something of a domestic kerfuffle with Mrs. Kenat, I am told."

The interrogation continued, and Natasi enjoyed it much less as it progressed. He asked about vomiting and changes in appetite and changes in taste and breast tenderness. She answered as delicately as she could -- yes, there had been vomiting; yes, she had been hungry at different times but then unable to force herself to eat food once it was brought up from the kitchens, and some foods like meat and eggs had become intolerable, so she mostly ate plain toast, citrus fruits, and salt crackers; yes she had experienced some tenderness."

Then he asked about her last menstrual period, and Natasi had difficulty keeping her Queen face off. "I don't recall precisely. It has been rather a demanding month." When assured than an approximate date would due, Natasi sighed and cast her mind back, working backward through state dinners, audiences, a naval review, that nasty business with Reima and George and Wedge Draav. "Seven or eight weeks." Sir Gideon nodded and sat back. "If you have reached a conclusion, doctor, you might share it."

"Not at all," said Sir Gideon. "I have reached, if anything, a suspicion. A possibility."

"A gastrointestinal infection," Natasi suggested. He shook his head. "Exhaustion?" Another shake. "An endocrine disorder."

"Perhaps," said Sir Gideon after a brief hesitation. "But not the first thing I would test for."

The Queen of the Renascent Heirate studied the doctor. She recognized the face of a man who, despite having arranged his features into a mask of professional neutrality, had look of one delivering information he expected to be resisted. She had seen enough ministers prepare to tell her that a program had failed, enough commanders prepare to explain an unacceptable loss, enough courtiers prepare to mention a rumor that had already reached every newsroom in New Sterandel. "Well?" Natasi prompted him. "What are you testing for?"

"Pregnancy, of course." For once, Natasi found herself at a loss for words for a few moments. Sir Gideon took advantage of the silence to proceed. "We were -- unable to confirm that it was possible in your condition. The cloning, the time you spent in the Netherworld -- the time the Duke of Suffolk spent there, too." Natasi frowned. Her mind, usually so obliging in a crisis, had refused to arrange the facts. She had recognized each symptom separately, of course. She'd had two children before, after all. But in the context of everything, she had treated them as an inconvenient collection of unrelated complaints because the alternative seemed impossible. "I will need a blood sample. I can run the initial screen here."

Natasi obligingly rolled back her sleeve and watched as the doctor did his work. He took a sample of blood into a vial, took the vial to an analyzer machine, and deposited it. A few minutes later, the doctor looked up from the analysis screen. "It is a positive result, ma'am. You are pregnant. About five or six weeks, I'd say, based on the timeline you provided." He made a noise as he reviewed the diagnostics. Natasi noticed as she rolled down her sleeves and demanded an explanation. "The hormone concentration is higher than I would have expected from your estimate. Which could mean nothing -- your timeline is off a little, maybe. Individuals vary considerably."

"Or?"

"It can be associated with multiple embryo implantation. So can early intense symptoms." He tapped a few keys and the diagnostic machine began printing documents. "The number can only be confirmed by imaging, and at this stage, a scan would not be likely to show enough to be sure. You will have to be patient. Unless -- "

"Unless what?" Natasi asked, buttoning her sleeve.

"The conversation is predicated on the assumption that Your Majesty is interested in carrying any pregnancy to term."

"Of course," Natasi said flatly. She straightened her blouse. "What should I do now? I -- it has been awhile, as you know, and the last time I was pregnant I had different demands on my time and person."

"For the moment, do nothing different. Eat, when you can. Whatever adjustments you can do to address your appetite and energy. Otherwise, observation. Repeat bloodwork in forty-eight hours. An early scan when it would be viable. I would like you to authorize -- or command -- a release of every available record concerning the creation and stabilization of your present body and records and your previous pregnancy records. This is not idle curiosity, Your Majesty. I need baseline cardiac, renal, and metabolic assessments to plan your care. And you must -- must -- report any bleeding, significant pain, fainting, fever, or persistent vomiting. Immediately. This is not a situation where it is best not to make a fuss. Under no circumstances are you to deploy your stiff upper lip."

"Must?" Natasi echoed. "You make the situation sound precarious."

"I am suggesting it is better to be safe than sorry, ma'am." He took off the pince-nez and set them aside, then began collating the paperwork. "As far as your duties -- you may continue most of them unless a reason develops that suggests you shouldn't. And you will eat regularly, hydrate, rest. Sleep more than four hours a night. I shall deputize the the Duke if need be. Which means you ought to tell him."

Natasi looked away from the window. "Of course I shall tell him," she said, as if it was obvious. "Not that he should bully me about eating and drinking and sleeping, but I will tell him."

Sir Gideon handed Natasi a small folder containing the still-warm printed diagnostics from the machine. "Good. No more delaying appointments, Your Majesty. I'll see you again in forty-eight hours for a second blood draw. Please direct your office to accept the appointments my office proposes. I hate to be imperious, but it's important."

Natasi stood and took the folder. "Very well, Sir Gideon, I will do my best." A beat. "Truly. May I use your communicator?" The doctor agreed and stepped away from the desk. Natasi picked it up, dialed her private secretary Mr. Kenat. "Good morning, Petyr. Would you ask the Duke of Suffolk to meet me in the yellow morning room, please? At his earliest convenience."

Natasi crossed the palace with a spring in her step, her pulse quick in her veins. For the moment, she was too excited to be afraid.

Dyrn Grav​

 

[Dyrn Grav]

CERULEAN GATE PALACE
NEW STERANDEL - AEGIS
MEANWHILE, IN THE SECURITY SUITE​

The morning had been unsettled, with Dyrn breakfasting alone and lost in contemplation, largely due to Natasi's unwell disposition. Though he tried to hide it, his concern had grown, almost in parallel with her continued symptoms. There was some relief when Natasi finally agreed to see Sir Gideon Edevane, but the worry and lump he felt in the pit of his stomach remained.

There were many questions and few answers; hopefully, today would provide peace of mind.

As the day continued onward, Dyrn had scheduled time in the Security Suite. There were important events for the couple, some more pressing than others, and decisions needed to be made about one in particular. Dressed in his plain black attire, with little pomp or pageantry, Dyrn rested both hands on the conference holotable. He scanned the glowing text and cross-sections of streets, buildings, and proposed pathways before him, taking in the preliminary itinerary.

Schedules could change.

Security needed to assume they would.

"Spinnaker is weeks away," Dyrn began evenly, "which means we have time to identify problems before they become emergencies."

His orange-blue gaze moved between the security officers assembled around the room. Each had been vetted by Dyrn personally; he trusted them as much as he trusted anyone that wasn't family.

"To be clear, the diplomatic side of the visit isn't my concern." Dyrn cleared his throat. "As we know, the Foreign Secretary, the Prime Minister, and the trade teams will handle negotiations. Her Grace and I are there to reinforce the relationships they've already built. That only happens if the visit proceeds without incident.

"Each will have their own security; each will have their routes and protocols planned... and I have arranged for our security to be our own. This is what we know--"

There had been some delicate - and not so delicate - conversation with the Prime Minister's people, but permission had been given. Dyrn tapped the proposed route through the city, causing it to light up on the slowly circling display of city streets.

"--now, onto what we do not know. You will be grouped as trios, more capable of covering one another but also less intrusive for event allowances. I want advance teams to walk every venue beforehand. Arrival points, exits, service corridors, rooftops, medical facilities, communications coverage - the lot. We do not want surprises discovered on the day."

The security team nodded and spoke amongst themselves; some checked group assignments, others passcode protocols, some looked for suggestions to assist with routes. Dyrn waved his hand, and the screen shifted:

"We'll likely spend time alongside the Prime Minister, as we expect. That increases our profile considerably. If there is a threat against Renata, there is a threat against everyone standing beside her. Treat our proximity accordingly."

The room was silent as he continued.

"I also want contingencies for separation."

There were several glances from those gathered. The notion was unheard of; there was no way Dyrn would let Natasi be separated from him, but the ex-Guardsman was not so naive as to believe he could control the outcome of every situation. All things had to be accounted for. One of the team murmured to another about a leap from a capital ship...

"If Her Grace and I become separated by crowd movement, an evacuation, or an attack, I want predefined rally points and independent extraction plans. No improvisation." Dyrn stood straight and folded his arms. His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the conviction behind it. "There is one point I want absolutely clear: Natasi is the priority."

Dyrn had served and protected Natasi for many years, long before becoming her husband, and marriage had not diminished that responsibility; in fact, it had only made it more personal for him.

"If a credible threat presents itself, I will not be standing behind a rope line while someone else decides how quickly to move her," he looked between the team. "I am perfectly capable of placing myself between my wife and whatever danger presents itself, and I expect the security detail to understand that reality rather than attempt to restrain me or waste time countermanding my movements... assume Lady Fortan's immediate vicinity is protected. You will handle beyond that."

He allowed the statement to settle before he offered a small smile:

"That does not mean I intend to interfere with your work. Quite the opposite: I expect professionalism, clear communication, and rehearsed contingencies so that none of us are forced into making instinctive decisions under fire--"

Dyrn turned his focus back to the itinerary.

"--but, as you can see, all protocols support Lady Fortan's safety. My position as Duke does not change this."

He nodded, which resulted in nods from those gathered, before he waved his hand downward and lowered the display.

"What I have presented this morning has been preliminary, but even I am not without oversight. We have several weeks. Use them well. I welcome any proposals or adjustments to the current itinerary, because I would much rather spend this trip discussing shipbuilding than testing the emergency procedures that we didn't poke holes in."

Affirmations followed.

Dyrn brought up another screen, prepared to move on to the next state of business; however, the security door beeped - which caused the holotable to shut down, causing an information blackout - before an individual entered once the door opened.

"Mr. Kenat?"

"Sir, Her Grace has asked to meet you in the yellow morning room, at your earliest convenience. I apologise for the intrusion."

Dyrn nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Kenat. No apology needed." Dyrn turned to the security team. "Excuse me. Continue as you were, please take over next business, Rodger, thank you."

Without another word, Dyrn exited the Security Suite and started walking through the halls at a quick pace.

Natasi had asked for him - not through a casual message or a stop by his office, but through Petyr. That alone wasn't unusual, he supposed, but it felt... deliberate.

Dyrn knew full well that she had been due to see the physician earlier that morning.

Concerning news? Some reason why she had to avoid speaking to me until face to face?

His brow furrowed ever so slightly.

Dyrn had never quite managed to silence the old Guardsman's instinct in his mind, especially when something felt out of place.

With a slow exhale, Dyrn straightened his jacket and made his way toward the Yellow Morning Room...

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi found herself feeling peckish.

She called down to the kitchens to request some toast and tea, if it wasn't too much trouble, and the tray was delivered just before Dyrn, such that the footman who delivered it was exiting as Dyrn came up the hallway. He stood aside and executed a crisp nod. "Your Royal Highness," he said. When Dyrn had passed, the footmen went on his way to return the tray to the kitchens.

And so Dyrn Grav would find his wife in a quite uncharacteristic situation: spreading a preserve made from a native Aegis citrus fruit that was a deep indigo on a piece of toast in the morning room, a pot of tea steeping on the coffee table in front of the sofa upon which she perched, prim as you like. She looked up when Dyrn entered, smiled instantly.

"Good morning, darling," she said. Natasi set the toast and knife down carefully brushed a crumb from her fingertip onto the plate before standing. "I hope you weren't being too rough on the security review." She leaned over as he approached and kissed him on the cheek, then invited him to sit with her. "I ought to say that visiting the capital of a nation of which we are a member state should not provide any sort of security concern, but the Prime Minister informs me that there have been reports of Sith presence in Theed. Not attacking it, just -- going to parties."

She sat down too and reached over to pull the lid of the teapot off to check its steeping progress, then replaced it.

"And I know that Sith or no Sith, you aren't wired to rely on the preparations of mere mortals," Natasi said wryly. She looked over at him fondly, then reached over and put her hand in his. "But that's not why I wanted to see you. I hope it doesn't derail your day. Ah..." Her fingers flexed, squeezing lightly. Was it possible that Natasi Fortan -- onetime Grand Moff, Supreme Leader-in-Exile, Queen of the Renascent Heirate -- was nervous?

"I've seen Sir Gideon," she began slowly. "He will be running further tests, but preliminarily -- well, he has confirmed that I've -- we are -- " Her voice failed again, and her fingers flexed again. She put her other hand over their clasped hands and took a steadying breath. "It seems I am expecting." And then, for the avoidance of doubt, Natasi added: "Pregnant. For about six weeks, he thinks."

Natasi looked up into her husband's face, dark eyes searching.

Dyrn Grav​

 

[Dyrn Grav]

The situation in the yellow morning room was not what Dyrn expected. He had quickened his pace, concerned, naturally, and had resisted the thoughts in the back of his mind from telling him it was bad news. He supposed the manner in which he found Natasi was... perplexing.

Once across the space, Dyrn returned the kiss.

"Darling," he said with a small smile, assessing his wife, searching her face and eyes and mannerisms. "And of course not, nothing the security team isn't capable of adapting to... though, I do worry about the need to refresh the team on ballroom etiquette, if that is true of the Sith."

Sith attending parties?

Dyrn grunted.

"Unless it is the beach variety?"

The joke brought a wry smile to his own face, but the underlying concern remained, and he suspected Natasi could see it - or at least sense it. When she reached over to hold his hand, Dyrn responded immediately, and he promptly turned his palm up and held hers tightly. Apprehension flooded through him, fear that it was something he couldn't plan for, something he couldn't defeat with fist or weapon...

Dyrn listened.

Tests? Preliminary scans... oh no, sickness? Dyrn raised his eyebrows. We? That damned Netherworld, has it hurt us finally? I may need tests next.

Then Natasi shared news of the last thing on Dyrn's mind. He did not answer immediately; and for once, the man who had spent his life preparing for every possible threat had no contingency, no plan, no words ready. He blinked, mind whirling, as he tried to open his mouth to respond. His eyes remained on Natasi, searching her expression the way he had done countless times before when assessing danger. Except... this time, there was no danger; it was the opposite of that.

He saw only her, now separated from the worries and fears.

"Natasi..." Her name came quietly, his voice low. Dyrn looked down at their hands as he brushed his thumb against her fingers. "A child?"

The words seemed to settle only after he said them. A small smile touched his face. But that furrow returned, as he quickly asked:

"Are you alright?"

Not the child or the future: her.

"I... have spent years learning how to protect you from everything that could hurt you," he said softly. "Yet, I suspect this may be something beyond what I can fend off with a weapon."

Dyrn's expression softened. He looked down at her hands again; he pulled them up to kiss them.

"I am happy, Natasi. Truly." Dyrn said, but he also added after a pause. "I am also terrified... which I imagine is how most men feel when they realise they are about to become fathers."

Still, a smile couldn't help but spread across his face. He continued to squeeze her hand gently, lovingly.

"I suppose I should thank you for finding the one thing in the galaxy capable of making me forget about security planning?"

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"You could thank me," Natasi said dryly. "But I seem recall that this little situation is at least half your doing -- possibly more if it happened the evening after the regimental dinner." Dyrn had been rather more vigorous than usual, Natasi recalled with a faint blush of satisfaction, which was saying something. "Give yourself some credit, too."

The quip allowed Natasi some time to study her husband.

She knew Dyrn well by now. He was, in her estimation, a simple man. Not in the way of someone who is incurious about life, someone who doesn't examine his circumstances, someone who didn't think and feel deeply. More in the way of someone who knew exactly what he needed from life and how to accomplish it. No, she decided after a momentary consideration. It wasn't simplicity, but certainty, that she sensed in him. She envied that, sometimes.

In this moment, she appreciated it.

Natasi didn't have to wonder whether Dyrn was putting on a brave face, or conforming to the manner of things expected from the consort. His pleasure and excitement -- and his apprehension -- were plain. She could have kissed him then from sheer gratitude, for his certainty, his uncomplicated delight, gave her something to cling to, something to feed on as her own joy was tempered with anxiety.

She was, after all, Natasi Josephine Fortan.

"I am well enough," she answered truthfully. "Knowing that the symptoms are of a comparatively harmless parasite of limited duration and not, say, a wasting illness will make them slightly easier to bear. I confess the possibility that it was something so innocent, happy even, quite passed me by; I was... not expecting it," Natasi said delicately, looking into Dyrn's face once more. "With the clone body and the time we spent in the Netherworld -- and even if we weren't trying for it, we certainly weren't -- that is -- "A faint rosiness grew in her pale aristocratic features and she looked down again, half-smiling. Somehow in that blue-orange gaze Natasi always felt like a newlywed bride, nervous and excited in equal measures. " -- just -- that it hadn't happened until now made me wonder if it was even possible, still, for me."

Her grip on his hand tightened fractionally, as if she was anchoring herself there with him. "The awful truth is I'm wary about hoping for it, even now. And I can assure you that whatever small simple joys and pleasures I remember from being expecting with the first batch will be quite forbidden to me now. Sir Gideon made it seem like he will want me living in a terrarium in his laboratory for the duration."

Dyrn Grav​

 

[Dyrn Grav]

Dyrn's eyebrows rose, soon followed by the corner of his mouth.

"I see," he said, with the solemnity of a man receiving an official report. "I accept my share of the responsibility. Though I reserve the right to skew the precise percentage back in your favour."

The faint smile remained as he watched the colour rise in Natasi's cheeks. It was strange, in a way, that after everything they had endured together, after war and death and the Netherworld and all the impossible things, she could still look at him like that; he suspected his own wayward glances held the same adoration, because he certainly felt it deep inside.

I would do it all over again, if asked. Every single thing.

When she spoke of the clone body, however, the humor faded somewhat. He understood that that particular topic was an underlying concern for the couple, and whenever Natasi spoke of it, that meant she was worried. So, Dyrn listened without interruption, his thumb moving slowly across the back of her hand. He understood the fear, even if he could not share it in quite the same way. That meant he would provide what he could - a kind, loving ear with openness and no judgment.

Well, except for when Natasi said parasite.

That is... technically true?

"Then we hope carefully," Dyrn said at last. His voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation in it. "We do not need to pretend there is no reason to be afraid. We live lives that almost promise that. And your physician seems intent on reminding us of every possible one."

Dyrn smiled:

"But today, you are well. He says you are pregnant with our little parasite. And unless he tells us otherwise, I think we are allowed to be happy about that." He squeezed her hand, as he reached forward with his other hand, to caress his beautiful wife's cheek. "I know I am."

It was simple enough to say, though more difficult to describe the weight behind it. The thought of a child had already begun opening doors in his mind that he had never thought to look for, glimpses of a future that somehow seemed both impossibly distant and suddenly close.

At the mention of the terrarium, Dyrn grunted with amusement.

"If you would prefer, I can speak to Sir Gideon about the terrarium... I am certain we can negotiate for something larger." He smirked. "Perhaps with a comfortable chair?"

The smile faded, though, as he continued more seriously.

"I will not let anyone reduce you to a patient, Natasi. Not him, not the household, and certainly not me," Dyrn was quick to add. "But I will be making sure you eat, and sleep, and attend the appointments you have apparently already attempted to evade."

Dyrn lifted her hand and kissed her fingers once more.

"Do not worry over what hope is safe today. Just know that whatever comes next, you will not face it alone."

His blue-orange gaze remained on hers. He eased back and cleared his throat:

"And for the record, darling, if this was after the regimental dinner... well, I wouldn't be surprised, as I recall the debrief being rather thorough."

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"I do eat," Natasi said defensively.

That was true, but it was a relatively recent development. When she was in the Senate and traveling back and forth, she often forgot to eat except when Kenat pushed a ration bar into her hand. There had been so much to do, so much paperwork on top of committee meetings, floor speeches, public events, conferences, not to mention all the wars.

"Most of the time," she added, her dark eyes softening a little. "Anyway, Sir Gideon does like an exaggeration. I didn't take tea with the Eosians on my own account or because I thought it would be fun -- though it did turn out to be quite entertaining and I'm pleased I did it. The Government asked me. Sir Gideon takes these things so personally."

She hesitated a moment, then squeezed Dyrn's hand. "But, yes. You're right. You're always right, which I should find more irritating than I do." Natasi's smile was wry. "Once Sir Gideon does his follow-up scans and tells us what we're in for, we'll work out a timeline. I'll have to tell the children and the Prime Minister when the time is right, but I can start asking George and Reima to take on some of my engagements requiring more extensive travel."

Natasi frowned faintly.

"Planned obsolescence, I think they call it," she mused.

Dyrn Grav​

 

[Dyrn Grav]

Dyrn gave Natasi a look at the amendment.

"Most of the time," he repeated, with a slow nod. "That sounds considerably less convincing."

There was a hint of amusement in his expression as he reached across to rescue the piece of toast she had abandoned earlier, placing it back within easy reach. He suspected Sir Gideon would approve of the gesture, which was reason enough not to mention it.

When Natasi conceded that he was right, however, Dyrn's eyebrows lifted.

"Always?" He considered that for a moment. "I should like that in writing. For no reason in particular, of course."

Still, as Natasi continued to work through the practicalities, he listened. George and Reima could certainly take on more of the travelling engagements, especially those where Natasi's presence was useful rather than essential. Dyrn had seen enough of both to know they were capable, though some small part of him wondered how George would respond to being handed more royal duties in the name of his mother's pregnancy.

That might be worth being present for.

"I think that sounds reasonable," Dyrn said. "Once Sir Gideon has a clearer idea of what he wants from us, we can look at the schedule properly. There is no sense cancelling half your life because he has discovered a new reason to worry."

The faint frown Natasi gave caught his attention, along with her choice of words.

"Planned obsolescence?"

Dyrn regarded her for a moment, plainly unconvinced, before a smile crept across his face.

"My dear, I have watched you turn a quiet evening at home into a working session because somebody made the mistake of leaving a briefing within reach." His thumb brushed lightly over her fingers. "I think George and Reima can manage a few engagements without you having to worry about early retirement."

He paused, considering.

"Though if you do intend to become obsolete, I would appreciate some notice. I will likely have to make some changes and resign some positions to join you."

Dyrn grinned.

"I am quite fond of you, you know."

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi felt a shadow pass over them at the mention of George.

His behavior recently had become an inconvenience. His underlying beliefs, a concern. His view that only those whose blood was blue -- which is to say, noble -- ought have any say in the exercise of power, to say nothing of a marital connection to the royal family, had done more than detonate his sister's engagement. It cast aspersions on his stepfather, who despite having no nobility to his name before being ennobled in the Heirate, was quite the finest man Natasi had ever known.

His willingness to stand beside her, to protect her, to die for her if the need arose, placed him head and shoulders above any mere Galidraani Duke or Tapani Lord. Dyrn hadn't complained, and George had never specified that he was included in George's diatribes against the low-born, but Natasi hated the idea that Dyrn had reason to think George thought lesser of him simply due to the circumstances of his birth.

She would not tolerate it. But perhaps that was a concern for another time. She wanted nothing to mar this special moment for them both.

"I do appreciate the thought," Natasi finally said in response to his suggestion that she provide her concession in writing. "But my Prime Minister, to say nothing of the Attorney General, might have something to say about me handing down binding agreements without their advice."

Natasi reached for the toast, which Dyrn had helpfully placed within each. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I was suddenly famished."

She tore off a piece of the bread and chewed it while she brushed the crumbs from her fingers back onto the plate.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Natasi said in response to his confession of fondness. He had become quite the master of understatement these last few years. "There's no way out for people like us, you know. Well, there's one, but you're too young for that." She smiled mischievously over the rim of her teacup before taking a sip. "The question I have for you, my dear, is -- do you want to come to my next match -- that is, appointment -- with Sir Gideon, or would you rather receive the grisly detailed through my genteel and delicate filter?"

Dyrn Grav​