Private Dis-Moi Oui

[Renata Westaway]

CERULEAN GATE PALACE
NEW STERANDEL, AEGIS
THE RENASCENT HEIRATE
​

This was an irregular audience. It did not come at the usual appointed hour. It did not come with a motorcade and a greeting from Her Majesty's private secretary at the door. It came during the afternoon tea hour rather than after dinner. Renata Westaway came by way of the Cerulean Gate for which the palace was named -- the broad, natural arch that marked the Cerulean River's terminus at the waterfall that the palace overlooked. She was piloted by a trusted member of her staff. It would look, for all intents and purposes, like a social visit.

And it was, in its way.

She approached the family entrance and was let in by the head butler. "I'm not late, am I?" she asked him as they mounted the back stairs. Usually Renata met Natasi in the state rooms, the broad and spacious rooms that were dedicated to functions of the government. This time, she was going to the royal apartments; no less spacious, perhaps, but marginally less formal.

"Not very," said the butler, his tone either very Galidraani or very derisive. "This way, Prime Minister."

He led her along a gallery, through a foyer type room, and then into the Queen's private study. Then another difference became apparent. Standing in quiet conversation with Natasi Fortan was Prince George himself. Renata swallowed briefly and curtsied -- once for Natasi, a second time with slightly less depth for George. "Your Majesty. Your Royal Highness. I trust you are both well?"

Natasi Fortan | George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan Renata Westaway

George's attention drifted from his conversation with Natasi towards the painting over the hearth. Natasi, Reima Vitalis and him. Their mother sitting in a stately chair with her two children behind her.

As if to say that the Sovereign had the future of the nation behind her. Little did the population know how tenuous that relationship was.

If George didn't force himself to be the bridge, would they ever have reconnected? He wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that question. His expression was kindly enough when George realised that Renata had come to join them. Focus returned to the matters at hand and left the painting behind.

"Splendid, Prime Minister." He assured her calmly as his hand settled on the edge of his mother's chair.

"And I trust you are the same?" He glanced to Natasi and then back to Renata.

"Mother has been playing this one awfully coy, I have no idea what the two of you are planning, but usually it bodes no good for my social calendar." George would tease good-naturedly, both of them knew he'd gladly assist the nation in any way he could.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The knock at the door and the entrance of the Prime Minister couldn't have come at a better moment. The conversation had started to turn inexorably towards Natasi's problem child. The truth was that Reima had more of Natasi Fortan in her than she cared to admit -- and less of her father. The depth and strength of the notoriously icy Fortan strategic spite reserves could not be overstated. It was a shame that of all of Natasi's traits, Reima had to choose that one to inherit.

Natasi liked to think she had reformed. After all, she had made overtures to her treacherous aunt, once upon a time. She had cooperated with the Vitalises in the raising of George and Reima before her passing, so they'd know all their kin. She was not entirely inflexible in her glacial rage.

Still, there were other matters at hand. She rose to greet the Prime Minister, accepting her curtsy with a gracious nod of her own. Casting a glance at her son, the Supreme Leader gave him a half-smile. "I was merely waiting for the appropriate parties to be present. And now they are. Let's not stand on ceremony. Sit down, everyone, and I'll pour the tea."

"Renata, this is your brainchild," Natasi said as she tipped the teapot into three cups. "Why don't you explain?"

George Vitalis | Renata Westaway​

 

[Renata Westaway]

"Very well, sir, thank you," Renata said. She followed Natasi's instructions, moving to take a single armchair arrayed around the coffee table. She gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Natasi when offered, setting it down on the nearby side table, and sat forward in the chair, examining Prince George momentarily. He was tall, which was reassuring. Handsome, as a prince ought to be. Confident, it seemed.

All three would come in handy for this.

"I -- well, we -- would like to ask you a favor. It's a matter of some importance and some delicacy, which is why you are -- to be frank -- perhaps the only choice for it. Allow me to explain." She cleared her throat, took a sip of tea before returning it to the table. Natasi brought George a cup of tea and one for herself and settled onto the sofa opposite Reima.

"I'm not sure how much of the current situation on Fondor Her Majesty has shared with you," Renata began. "But a few minutes watching the Holonet would tell you what you need to know. The Galactic Alliance is stumbling. First the Deep Core and now the Arkania corridor. Things are not going well. And there are voices in the Senate that seem to think it would be a fool's errand to stand up to these Imperials, so I think we can only fear more."

"So," Renata began. "I would like to propose that someone reach out to the Hidden Path. Informally -- unofficially -- as demands their status as an Alliance-branded terror group. We are, for now, members of the Alliance and therefore an official overture to such a group would be -- "

"Frowned upon?" Natasi supplied serenely from her position on the sofa.

"Highly illegal, actually," Renata concluded smoothly in response, in a tone that suggested a note of disagreement between the two women as to the severity of the offense they were suggesting. "So sending an official envoy would be problematic, but sending too junior an official would suggest a certain unseriousness." She looked over at George earnest, blue-green eyes wide, inquisitive. "Would you consider bringing a message to them? Knowing the risk involved?"

George Vitalis | Natasi Fortan​

 

[George Vitalis]

Renata Westaway | Natasi Fortan

He knew far too much and yet too little about the current state of the Galactic Alliance.

Unlike his sister Reima Vitalis he had never formally joined their ranks in any capacity. Not as an operative, not as a soldier or a pilot. His position had been here at home. George could not be seen splitting his time between serving his people and serving a whole nation outside of it. Split loyalties and all, in that way he mildly envied Reima.

Her life was her own to a degree, she could do as she pleased and often did. George didn't fault her. After everything she deserved to be happy, but sometimes he wondered if he deserved the same.

Renata laid it all out cleanly, clearly. It was no wonder that mother had trusted her with the position of PM. She was a valued addition to them all. Once she explained her plan, George immediately glanced to Natasi rather than answer himself. He had been brought up proper. No word out of turn, no dashing off into the unknown without a plan.

Only after a moment of consideration did he finally speak.

"If the nation required it I would spill my own blood to secure it." George said and while it was a touch dramatic, he was past the age where it would be seen as a child's declaration. No, in that moment, the steel of his father could be seen in his eyes. Rigid posture, iron through his spine. "Bringing a message seems like the least I could do."

Then finally inclining his head towards his mother.

"If the Sovereign wills it, I will take a message and bring it to them, of course, Prime Minister."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi watched the exchange guardedly from behind her tea, using the cup and saucer almost as a sort of shield. The way he accepted the task, for the good of the Heirate, without hesitation was admirable. "Hopefully it won't come to that," she said in reference to the spilling of his blood, her lips twitching up in a subtle smile at the edges.

"It will be more than a message," Natasi went on after taking a sip of her tea. She set the cup down and picked up her datapad from the side table, leaning over to pass it over to George. On it was a list of supplies that he would take with him to the Hidden Path: medicine and medical equipment, preserved foodstuffs, and a significant amount of precious medals that could be easily converted to liquid assets with minimal paper trail.

"There was some debate about sending weapons and starships, but," Natasi began, hesitating a little before deciding how to proceed: "There is a concern about tracing things back to us. Not that I believe the propaganda around this group. I don't know Valery Noble well but she has dined with me in this very palace and I know her enough to know she is no terrorist. And if she is terrorizing anyone -- the Empire, for example -- they are, as far as I'm concerned, a legitimate target. But with matters as they are, it is probably best to avoid antagonizing the Alliance for the time being."

She paused a moment. "That leads to a slightly more... delicate situation," Natasi said gently to George. "But before we go there, have you any objections to that list? This is a matter of personal ethics as well as statecraft, George. I don't want to ask you to do something you would find objectionable."

George Vitalis | Renata Westaway​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan | Renata Westaway

He accepted the datapad and read it, eyebrows rising slightly as it became clear what the extent of this mission was. Part of him felt a bit disturbed about this mission. Not because it was morally bankrupt, in truth George thought the Hidden Path was a good organization and he only ever heard good things about Valery Noble . She had been the literal Grandmaster of the New Jedi Order, if anyone was a boy scout it would be her.

But it went against his teachings as a nobleman. The secretive nature of it, the infiltration aspects and keeping things quiet. Natasi, as his mother, would see it in the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw crunched.

Then he nodded.

"I do believe it was you, Mother, who taught me that to be a ruler meant you couldn't adhere strictly to your values beyond reason. Such rigidness is under the purview of those less burdened with responsibility." He shrugged softly and placed the datapad back on the table. "I do not know how long the Alliance will be able to hold out, if at all, I think it wise to spread our... interest and invest it in those that might be a larger threat to the Empire while it is threatening the Core and beyond."

Then a smile as he sipped from his own tea.

"All that to say- I accept the assignment and I thank you both for the trust you place in me. I will not betray it, lest my last name is not Vitalis."

It was said with confidence, but that last bit worried him, now more than ever. It was a good name, a strong name. The name of his father. But more and more he was starting to worry it was holding him back.

What did a Vitalis mean in a nation ruled by a Fortan?

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi took back her datapad and smiled tightly at her son. "The Strategic Operations Executive has chartered you a cargo vessel and provided a -- shall we say -- cleared up set of transponder records showing a point of origin outside of the Heirate. Be sure to familiarize yourself with the brief in case you encounter a checkpoint. You'll meet with the Hidden Path operative at the location of their choosing before delivering the supplies. There's contact information in this dossier."

She handed over sealed envelope that included the information she had just discussed, as well as the cargo manifest. "There's one more thing. If you have no objection." She activated a handed another folder over to her son which, when flipped open, would show the picture of a plain-featured woman in her late twenties, with bobbed ginger hair and golden eyes. "Among the people your sister helped escape from Coruscant was Noema Kintara, SIA analyst. She was badly injured during the Imperial sack of Coruscant, and -- following the news that has come out of Fondor -- has elected to... let sleeping dogs lie, as it were. She wishes to join the Hidden Path and Reima -- well, your sister is as hot-headed and impulsive as she is well-intentioned, and she promised to effectuate it. This would save her the trip, and I'm concerned that if Reima were to go, it might be the last we see of her for some time."

She paused a moment, studying George. No one knew Reima better, she knew, including herself. For a moment she thought about asking George whether he thought Reima would ever do anything so impulsive, but there were some things better discussed outside the earshot of the Prime Minister. "At any rate," Natasi said, straightening her shoulders. "Any questions? I'm sure the Prime Minister can arrange for you to sit with the Director if there's anything we can't answer -- yes?" Her eyes darted to Renata.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Renata intoned, then looked to George. "Whatever you need, Sir."

George Vitalis | Renata Westaway​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

It shifted from a simple delivery mission to an escort one and that made George's brows furrow. He didn't immediately accept it, which ought to make his mother proud, it meant George was actually considering the ramifications rather than trying to please her. It would be potentially dangerous, especially if her time on Coruscant during the invasion had left her traumatized.

Which was likely because from what George had been made to understand the Coruscant theatre had been particularly brutal. Not something that a SIA analyst would be conditioned to have to deal with.

But his own thoughts went to Reima Vitalis and his mother's unspoken words. Would his sister leave them so soon after she came back into their lives, if she saw the Hidden Path and their operations? George thought it likely. He didn't think it was impulsivity. It was heart. The woman his sister had become didn't stand for injustice and would put her life on the line to put things to order.

Even if it was a bad bet or dangerous, it was what made him proud of her... and made him worry constantly.

"I will escort the analyst, yes, I would like some time to go through her dossier first however. Just so I have an idea of her temperament and what I might have to deal with for the duration of the trip." He offered an apologetic smile. "She must have gone through a lot, I just need to be sure I am equipped enough to handle any possible issues that might arise."

Then an inclination of his head towards the Prime Minister.

"I am sure I will have more questions, even if not right now, your presence is appreciated as always, Prime Minister." Then a pause before he continued. "Would you mind stepping out for a moment? There are a few things I must discuss with the Sovereign, family business, I hope you do not mind. I will meet you outside so we can go over some more of the specifics."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

If the Prime Minister took umbrage at being dismissed by the Prince rather than the Sovereign, she didn't show it. She took a beat, then turned to Natasi expectantly. The Queen inclined her head, offering Renata a knowing and slightly sympathetic smile. "Thank you, Prime Minister. You can return to Alderney Square and I'll be in touch."

"Your Majesty," said Renata, curtsying low to Natasi. "Your Royal Highness." A decidedly shallower bob to George, and Renata was on her way. Natasi waited until she had left, then crossed the room and threw the bolt in the door, activating the privacy settings once more.

"In future, we ought to come up with a sign that you'd like a word in private," said Natasi as she came back over toward her son. "Granted that our Constitution is largely unwritten, but it is generally understood that the Sovereign summons and dismisses ministers." Her tone was not reproachful or a rebuke, merely a mother sharing a bit of wisdom with her heir. "It sounds like a small thing -- petty, almost -- but every bit of authority we hold as sovereign is something. And if you had matters to discuss with them, you'd hate to have your Prime Minister ask your sister or your children permission to leave on the precedent that any member of the royal family can excuse them -- yes?"

Natasi picked up the poker by the fireplace and gently tended the fire in the grate. "At any rate. I should like to start including you in the audiences with the Prime Minister at some point. To get an idea for what the relationship is like, the give and take, and the different roles we each play in making things run. The efficient," she said, gesturing toward the door Renata had just walked out of, signifying the Government, "and the dignified." At this she gestured at George. Well... he'll get there soon.

"But that's not why you wanted to speak to me. Feel free, dearheart."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

He blinked and swallowed softly, inclining his head to her.

"I will... apologize to Renata Westaway for putting her in an awkward position. And I apologize to you as well, mother." His tone formal, bowing a bit deeper when George apologized to her. "I just wanted to discuss... your concerns about Reima and I thought it would be prudent to have an open discussion about the upcoming mission, where you don't feel like you have to filter for Our sake."

But apology notwithstanding George took those words to heart.

It embarrassed him that he didn't think of it himself. Part of him thought it would be a good practice, to begin employing more authoritative moves to get people used to the idea of him wielding power.

Foolish, perhaps, but at least Natasi didn't seem overly upset about it either.

"Thank you for the invitations, I will attend any meeting you think would be best, mother." Always the dutiful son, even if he was perhaps not the most dignified scion just yet.

He moved to refill both their cups.

"Have you had a chance to talk to Reima? We have been apartment shopping for her, I suggested for her to try and... connect with you again." But George wasn't sure if his sister had followed his recommendation. She could be so stubborn. Then again, in her defense, they all were stubborn. It was part of the Fortan-Vitalis genetic alliance.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi smiled fondly at George. Her George. She had always felt he was hers -- even before Talbot died -- which was absurd. Talbot's blood entitled him to more money and a higher station than the Fortan name did. At least, that had been at the time of his birth, when Natasi was only the Countess of Herevan in her own right by the skin of her teeth and while the Parliament deigned to agree. Talbot's family was a hair older than the Fortans, richer, and a Duke outranked just about everyone else in Galidraani Society but the royal family themselves.

And yet, George had always seemed to take after her. Serious, even as a baby, whatever his golden hair said, she had always seen herself in him. Herself and Frejrik, even what Mathes might have been, if things had been different.

"You needn't apologize," she said softly. "I'm... still coming to terms with the idea of you as a man. Not the boy who used to race up and down the corridors at Number Ten." Natasi smiled wanly; he wouldn't remember those days, of course, with him in his little sailor suit. Perhaps it was for the best; such things were not fashionable outside of Galidraan. "I have been negligent in your education. Perhaps like all young people -- all right, people who feel young -- I am relying on the concept of my immortality to keep you from having to get properly stuck in. It's usually not glamorous and it's usually not fun, and it can feel maddening to have the weight of responsibility while having to share power with the Prime Minister."

She frowned a little, then cleared her throat. "Where was I? Ah -- your sister." Stormclouds gathered on her brow, more in sadness than in anger. Now Reima was Talbot's daughter through and through. Talbot had never laid eyes on Reima, never held her, and yet Reima pledged her loyalty to his ghost more than she ever had to Natasi herself. "Yes, I ought not to have spoken out of turn in front of the Prime Minister like that. Especially as I will need to rely on Renata to approve my plans for her."

She took the drink from George with a grateful smile and took a seat on one of the armchairs. "We've spoken -- some. Life Day, as you know, and a holo-call every other week or so. She's hoping to find a place for Wedge. And this business with, ah, the woman." She gestured toward the folder. "I asked her to stay here while she gets settled -- it does me good to know she's safe after Coruscant." Natas's brows furrowed. Some mother she was, fleeing the planet and leaving her daughter behind. She suspected that if they'd had a closer bond, Natasi would have been able to sense Reima on Coruscant and gone after her. "But she won't. Of course." A frown. "It's proceeding. Slowly, and sometimes in fits and starts, but she will at least speak to me, which is an improvement over a year ago. Why do you ask? What's -- is she all right?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

"I am eager to learn." George said without much of a fuss. "Even though, yes, you are still in your prime and by the Balance I hope you will continue to do this for many years to come... I fear I will be inadequate compared to your competence." It was tough to consider a future where Natasi wouldn't be steering the nation and their household with a firm but just hand.

Would George be able to match her? Would he be able to exceed her?

He wasn't sure about the former, so the latter was a total joke.

But perhaps by sitting in and watching her work closer, something of her brilliance would rub off on him. Then one day when George had to assume the role of Sovereign, he wouldn't feel like he was drowning at sea.

It was disappointing to hear that the two hadn't yet found a common language. There was a lot of strife there, a lot of conflict. He was hoping they would have patched it up, or at least found a way to spend more than a perfunctory amount of time together. George knew he had to be patient. These sort of things didn't unwind themselves in record time.

It took effort and consideration.

"She is as good as she can be expected, mother. But she struggles, with her role, with her relationship with you." George bit his lip. How much to say, how much to leave in the background, so his sister wouldn't feel like he was betraying her trust?

"I do not think time has been kind on any of us. But we are doing our best, yes? In the end that has to be enough to... return to some semblance of normalcy."

Even if the Galaxy kept trying to interfere with that.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"We'll make a diplomat of you yet," Natasi said in response to George's commentary about her staying on the throne for a long time. "It's a... funny business, isn't it, this line of work? In a way I was lucky to be spared of it. I never expected to be Countess of Herevan, never dreamed I'd be Supreme Leader of the First Order or Sovereign of yet another nation. I never spent a moment waiting for my turn. Knowing that for it to happen someone would have to die." She frowned thoughtfully, swirled her drink a little.

"If it makes you feel any better," Natasi said. "I've left strict instructions in Operation: Cerulean Bridge -- that's the code name for what will happen upon my death, there's a rather thick binder over there you can read all about it if you want -- that I should stay dead this time. So you won't need to worry about me coming back and taking back the big chair from you."

"One thing -- and I hate to burden you with it, but it's important that the Government and the household know your tastes and wishes -- but you'll be having a meeting with the Lord Steward and the Prime Minister and the whole ghastly lot of them after the investiture about your own arrangements, Balance forbid anything should happen to you." Natasi paused a moment and sipped her drink. "You're Foxfield Bridge. Your sister is Marchgate Bridge and your stepfather is Suffolk Bridge. You'll all be having meetings after the Season, and then a meeting every five years to make any necessary updates or tweaks. Marriage, children -- if you suddenly decide you hate bagpipes -- that sort of thing."

The conversation turned back to her daughter and Natasi grew quiet and thoughtful.

"What is normalcy, in this context?" she asked, as if George might have an answer. "She was barely walking when I died, a precocious teen who'd never had a mother -- never needed one -- when I came back. She was still in school, and I was -- working on the First Order redux. She was almost sixteen when you and I disappeared again, and when I returned I learned that in addition to not needing a mother and not having one, she didn't want one. Well that's perhaps not true. She simply didn't want me. Not that I can blame her." Another sip of her drink. "We don't have a routine to go back to. All I can think of are the old ways -- how things were at Herevan in the old days -- but that's foreign to her and to you."

She heaved a sigh, a rare instance of disillusion from the Sovereign. "Truthfully, I am to blame. For all of it. For the childhood neither of you got to have. For being a mother you saw on holovision and in portraits more than in the nursery. I regret it more than I can say. I regret it more than I could possibly ever make up for." She looked up at him, regret etched into every facet of her still-striking face, her vivid amber eyes shining with unshed tears. "But, my darling -- and this is my first lesson in Sovereign-ing -- oftentimes that's the job. When you are the indispensable person, there will be times when you won't be there for bath time or for dinner or for lacrosse games. It is a terrible price for a mother to pay, but the alternative is unthinkable. But -- I truly doubt whether your sister would find such an answer compelling. The truth is I'd like to find a role for her -- something -- close to home. Something that brings her into the fold. Somewhere to belong. Does that make sense? Any ideas?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

She spoke of her own death so casually, but it made George anxious. He sometimes felt he had barely returned and the people he loved most, they had grown older, more wary in his absence.

But George didn't poke at it, not now. There would be other times where that was more appropriate. Instead he listened, glancing briefly to the binder she pointed out on her desk and nodded at the code name that belonged to him. "A family of bridges, hm? I suppose that is apt." Marriage, children, those mentions send a shiver down his spine all the same.

Almost as much as her talk about her own death.

He knew it was his duty and he'd perform as was expected, but that didn't mean George had to look forward to it.

"I do not think it's a useful exercise to assign blame, mother." George said gently and reached out to pat her hand. Their relationship had never been that warm, not physically anyway and often not verbally either. But he loved her and sometimes he thought that she needed more warmth in her life. At the very least her current husband and his step-father seemed to be affectionate with her.

That was important in life and in a relationship.

"You didn't choose your position. You stepped into it when the need was high and you saw nobody around you was willing or able to step in. And because of it, many people live and thrive, where they might not have otherwise."

A soft shrug.

"Does that mean I do not feel a keen sense of missing something from my youth? Perhaps. But you raised me to not be selfish. What is my own desire for a happy childhood compared to the knowledge that millions of families were able to have families and children their childhood? I am content, mother and Reima will as well, once she sees what you have build here."

Or he severely misjudged her character.

"I think... something that will weigh her down. She will not appreciate if you give her something light and ceremonial. She wants to get her hands dirty, so to speak, she wants her work to matter and to do something that makes everyone's lives better. Give her a challenge, I guarantee she will exceed your expectations and do great at it."

A pause and then a soft smile.

"Perhaps not something in diplomacy however. How about something in our military? Liaison? We spoke about the need to build up our defenses, I am sure she could provide vital insight with her own experience in the Starfighter Corps of the Alliance."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"You might be right," Natasi conceded to her son, squeezing his hand lightly. "The trouble is that accountability often feels like blame. It's why most people are reticent about taking accountability. If my biggest sin was being too eager to take accountability -- by the Balance, if only that was my biggest sin -- then I've lived a generally blameless life."

If only.

"I know myself well enough to know that service was part of it, but only a part. t was always part of it. Even before there was any position attached. Your grandparents drilled it into us -- Mathes and me -- that wealth without work was idleness and privilege. Your grandfather never missed a vote in the Lords -- not once -- and your grandmother had committee meetings and volunteering all the time." She frowned and lifted her eyebrows. "The truth is I relish the responsibility. Well... if I'm honest, it was power. Position. Fame. First, it was to prove that I could. So many people were waiting on Galidraan, watching for me to fail. I had gotten above my station, you see."

She took another sip of her drink.

"Anyway, enough ancient history. Your sister." She stood and paced over toward the window, surveying New Sterandel across the river. "Something substantial, but... I don't want it to seem like nepotism. It should be that she is paying for her privilege, for her title. But I do worry about putting Reima and Wedge together. If the Prime Minister and the Minister for Defense are amenable, he will be leading the development of the Renascent Aerospace Force. I'd hate to put them in an awkward position. I don't want them competing, and I don't want either one of them using the other in some sort of... political gamesmanship. Or worse, personal gamesmanship."

Natasi cleared her throat softly. "I think she might make a splendid diplomat if it was anyone but me on the other side of the table. But perhaps something else. Somehow I doubt we will solve this today, at any rate."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Natasi Fortan

He wanted to say more about the past, but Natasi seemed eager to move beyond the subject and for now George let it lie. It was something that would have to be unpacked over time, he supposed. You couldn't fix everything over the course of a single meeting. Even if George was eager to try and hopeful that they could.

Instead the topic drifted towards Reima again and George nodded thoughtfully.

"Best not to put them together, no. They love each other." Even if George still had his qualms about his lack of proper blood. He was still a good man, perhaps that would be enough.

"But even those who love each other dearest, need some space apart. If they live together and work together? They might end up tearing each other's heads off just because." Perhaps not, maybe George was worried about nothing, but it was something to keep in mind. "Well, if she is a diplomat of the nation, she would have to be in touch with you a lot, so."

A shrug, something that couldn't be avoided.

"But you are right, I suppose, we can't just decide in the span of a few minutes. If you want, I can explore some more options and deliver you a list for your consideration? I will carefully test the waters with her as well, maybe there are certain directions she'd like to explore herself."