Uneasy Lies the Head, 1/1, Vorkosigan saga
Dec. 3rd, 2010 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Uneasy Lies the Head Who Has a Betan Aunt
author: james
Rating: G; gen
Word Count: 1,550
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: for a prompt by peoriapeoriawhereart: "Ivan being 'parented' by Cordelia. His being an adult won't stop her."
Summary: Ivan has one mother. Unfortunately, he also has an aunt.
Ivan knew he couldn't avoid it for long; the message had a delivery time-stamp on it, as well as a back-track squealer to let the sender know just exactly when it had been opened. Not even his commanding officer bothered to use such things. Ivan suspected the only reason his own mother didn't use them was her unwavering belief that Ivan would read and respond to her messages in a proper, and thus timely, fashion.
Aunt Cordelia, on the other hand, had raised Miles so she expected long and creative efforts to avoid checking in while there was still time to stop him. Probably timestamping and tagging her messages were reflex by now, as surely Ekaterin had the best chance now of any of them to put the brakes on Miles occasionally. Ivan knew that his own messages to his cousin could go unanswered for weeks unless he prodded Miles to respond. Which he usually never did, because that was a sure-fire way to get his cousin's full attention.
None of this was helping him deal with Aunt Cordelia sending him messages, which he knew he didn't want to read and yet if he didn't, he'd end up with her on his doorstep, being concerned.
When he was nine he'd rather liked it, since it often meant being fed sweets. He didn't think she'd give him ice cream or doughnuts now; given the most likely topic of conversation, Ivan figured he was grateful.
Unfortunately, the topic of conversation wasn't going to go away just because he wanted to avoid it. So with a glass of wine to brace him, Ivan sat down at the desk in his living area, and cautiously opened the vid. His aunt's smiling face appeared almost immediately, like she'd been hovering, waiting for him to finally give in. Ivan flinched as she looked directly at him.
"Hello, Ivan," she began, and she sounded cheerful and content. Possibly she hadn't yet recorded her vid to Miles before she'd made his. "I just thought I'd send you a message, since your mother is--"
Don't say it, Ivan thought to himself, frantically. Please don't say it.
But Aunt Cordelia, being Betan and therefore apparently immune to social embarrassment, went on without hesitation. "--on Beta with Illyan for her honeymoon. I imagine she'll send you a message of her own if she thinks about it, but I wouldn't be surprised if it slips her mind for awhile." Cordelia smiled, a frighteningly maternal smile that still somehow said that awful, horrible, things were occurring between Illyan and his mother that Ivan desperately did not want to think about. His hand jerked towards the fast forward, then he stopped himself. She'd know, somehow.
"She told me that that girl, Angelina Vorzhukov, got herself engaged. I know your mother's disappointed after all that trouble she went to--"
Ivan hit the pause button, and took his glass back into the kitchen for a refill. Of course it was all about his marriage prospects, and lack thereof. Angelina had been a nice enough girl, but the first time they'd met it had become clear to Ivan that she was deeply in love with another boy. Her family didn't approve of him, as he wasn't Vor and wasn't the slightest bit wealthy. Yuri was a typical struggling artist, mostly poor but with decent talent and a very obvious, if slightly desperate, devotion to Angelina. Ivan had met the young man, then gave Angelina his blessing. They'd eloped just a few weeks ago, and Ivan would swear that he didn't know a thing about the small arts grant Yuri had fortuitously been awarded, of an amount just enough to get he and his new wife started on the right foot.
It left Ivan with no prospective Vor bride, which was, despite what everyone around him seemed to think, exactly the way he wanted it.
Thankfully his mother had been too distracted in the last few months to do more than throw Angelina his way. As much as he didn't like to think about the details, he was glad his mother was happy and extremely glad she'd been too busy organising her own future to be too bothered with Ivan's.
Only his aunt had proved far too willing to take up the slack.
With a second glass of wine, Ivan sat back down and listened to the remainder of the message. It was, as he'd predicted, full of encouragement that he'd find the right person one day and fall in love, that he had to be patient, and understand his mother's worries and that she only wanted what was best for him.
"It isn't just about grandchildren," Aunt Cordelia said, though from the look in her eye -- no doubt thinking of Miles' twin babies -- that was a pretty large part of it. He knew better than to suggest to his mother that she could spoil Miles' kids just as rotten as she would have his. It wasn't the same and she'd be spoiling them anyhow, even without his suggestion.
His aunt continued in her recorded message, telling him yet again all the reasons why he should give the matter some real thought. Get serious, Ivan, he'd been told more than once. Time to grow up. Time to think about your future. Your duty as a Vor to have an heir. Ivan was grateful he wasn't old Uncle Falco's heir. Then the pressure would be even worse, and he'd probably have buckled under years ago and had five or six kids by now.
Of course, then everyone would be leaving him alone, now.
Ivan sighed and let the rest of the recorded message wash past him. The usual hints that if there was some reason he wasn't interested in getting married, he could always talk to his Betan aunt who understood about these things. Barrayaran society can be difficult for some, she'd said, giving him that piercing maternal Look.
He had never bothered telling her, or his mother, or anyone. He wasn't fully convinced they'd understand, nor did he particularly think they'd even listen. The one time his mother had asked him what type of girl he was interested in, it had made him feel like he was ordering from a take-out menu.
All he could say was what he told anyone who actually bothered to ask. He hadn't found the person he wanted to marry, yet. Let them think he was waiting for true love.
It seemed impossible to tell any of them that he was happy. His career was, if a trifle boring at times, satisfying and stable and one he was really very good at. If he ever feared getting bored, he got plenty of excitement whether he wanted it or not, thanks to his cousin. Other than the enforced dates to keep his mother appeased, his social life was exactly the way he liked it. He hung out with the guys at the bar when he wanted to, and otherwise he did as he pleased. He'd never needed another person to share things with, and was, quite sincerely, happy to be alone when he wanted to be.
He suspected that Betans would consider that grounds for extensive therapy. His mother would look at him disapprovingly, then tell him stiffly that he could be just as alone as he liked, once he got married and had a few children. Let his wife have a consort and hire a nanny for the children, and he could live like a bachelor as much as he wanted.
Eventually, he hoped, they would leave him alone. Miles' children would take up more of their time as they grew up and being grandmothers would distract them both -- he hoped -- from harassing Ivan.
He'd still get those Looks from his mother, he knew. I just want you to be happy.
Ivan didn't think he could convince her that he was. Sooner or later after she returned to Barrayar, she would start up again, looking for appropriate spouses. Or even slightly inappropriate, as long as they were healthy and female and willing. He considered again his cousin's drunken, laughing suggestion that Ivan tell his mother to have another child, and raise it to marry and give her grandkids.
He shuddered at the thought she might take the suggestion seriously. She and Illyan could have a daughter. She could grow up and marry one of Miles' boys, and they could make the lines of inheritance even more convoluted.
Ivan saw that Aunt Cordelia's message had finally wound down. Nothing unexpected in it, just maternal concern that he maybe wasn't making the best choices for his life. He decided to give himself some time before trying to reply; he didn't know if she could tell he'd been drinking, but one never knew with mothers. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea -- or the right one, that he had to brace himself to get through yet another What About Ivan missive.
He switched the comconsole off, and took his glass of wine over to the easy chair. Setting the glass down, he picked up the book he'd left there the night before. Thumbing it open, he found where he'd left off, and began to read.
author: james
Rating: G; gen
Word Count: 1,550
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: for a prompt by peoriapeoriawhereart: "Ivan being 'parented' by Cordelia. His being an adult won't stop her."
Summary: Ivan has one mother. Unfortunately, he also has an aunt.
Ivan knew he couldn't avoid it for long; the message had a delivery time-stamp on it, as well as a back-track squealer to let the sender know just exactly when it had been opened. Not even his commanding officer bothered to use such things. Ivan suspected the only reason his own mother didn't use them was her unwavering belief that Ivan would read and respond to her messages in a proper, and thus timely, fashion.
Aunt Cordelia, on the other hand, had raised Miles so she expected long and creative efforts to avoid checking in while there was still time to stop him. Probably timestamping and tagging her messages were reflex by now, as surely Ekaterin had the best chance now of any of them to put the brakes on Miles occasionally. Ivan knew that his own messages to his cousin could go unanswered for weeks unless he prodded Miles to respond. Which he usually never did, because that was a sure-fire way to get his cousin's full attention.
None of this was helping him deal with Aunt Cordelia sending him messages, which he knew he didn't want to read and yet if he didn't, he'd end up with her on his doorstep, being concerned.
When he was nine he'd rather liked it, since it often meant being fed sweets. He didn't think she'd give him ice cream or doughnuts now; given the most likely topic of conversation, Ivan figured he was grateful.
Unfortunately, the topic of conversation wasn't going to go away just because he wanted to avoid it. So with a glass of wine to brace him, Ivan sat down at the desk in his living area, and cautiously opened the vid. His aunt's smiling face appeared almost immediately, like she'd been hovering, waiting for him to finally give in. Ivan flinched as she looked directly at him.
"Hello, Ivan," she began, and she sounded cheerful and content. Possibly she hadn't yet recorded her vid to Miles before she'd made his. "I just thought I'd send you a message, since your mother is--"
Don't say it, Ivan thought to himself, frantically. Please don't say it.
But Aunt Cordelia, being Betan and therefore apparently immune to social embarrassment, went on without hesitation. "--on Beta with Illyan for her honeymoon. I imagine she'll send you a message of her own if she thinks about it, but I wouldn't be surprised if it slips her mind for awhile." Cordelia smiled, a frighteningly maternal smile that still somehow said that awful, horrible, things were occurring between Illyan and his mother that Ivan desperately did not want to think about. His hand jerked towards the fast forward, then he stopped himself. She'd know, somehow.
"She told me that that girl, Angelina Vorzhukov, got herself engaged. I know your mother's disappointed after all that trouble she went to--"
Ivan hit the pause button, and took his glass back into the kitchen for a refill. Of course it was all about his marriage prospects, and lack thereof. Angelina had been a nice enough girl, but the first time they'd met it had become clear to Ivan that she was deeply in love with another boy. Her family didn't approve of him, as he wasn't Vor and wasn't the slightest bit wealthy. Yuri was a typical struggling artist, mostly poor but with decent talent and a very obvious, if slightly desperate, devotion to Angelina. Ivan had met the young man, then gave Angelina his blessing. They'd eloped just a few weeks ago, and Ivan would swear that he didn't know a thing about the small arts grant Yuri had fortuitously been awarded, of an amount just enough to get he and his new wife started on the right foot.
It left Ivan with no prospective Vor bride, which was, despite what everyone around him seemed to think, exactly the way he wanted it.
Thankfully his mother had been too distracted in the last few months to do more than throw Angelina his way. As much as he didn't like to think about the details, he was glad his mother was happy and extremely glad she'd been too busy organising her own future to be too bothered with Ivan's.
Only his aunt had proved far too willing to take up the slack.
With a second glass of wine, Ivan sat back down and listened to the remainder of the message. It was, as he'd predicted, full of encouragement that he'd find the right person one day and fall in love, that he had to be patient, and understand his mother's worries and that she only wanted what was best for him.
"It isn't just about grandchildren," Aunt Cordelia said, though from the look in her eye -- no doubt thinking of Miles' twin babies -- that was a pretty large part of it. He knew better than to suggest to his mother that she could spoil Miles' kids just as rotten as she would have his. It wasn't the same and she'd be spoiling them anyhow, even without his suggestion.
His aunt continued in her recorded message, telling him yet again all the reasons why he should give the matter some real thought. Get serious, Ivan, he'd been told more than once. Time to grow up. Time to think about your future. Your duty as a Vor to have an heir. Ivan was grateful he wasn't old Uncle Falco's heir. Then the pressure would be even worse, and he'd probably have buckled under years ago and had five or six kids by now.
Of course, then everyone would be leaving him alone, now.
Ivan sighed and let the rest of the recorded message wash past him. The usual hints that if there was some reason he wasn't interested in getting married, he could always talk to his Betan aunt who understood about these things. Barrayaran society can be difficult for some, she'd said, giving him that piercing maternal Look.
He had never bothered telling her, or his mother, or anyone. He wasn't fully convinced they'd understand, nor did he particularly think they'd even listen. The one time his mother had asked him what type of girl he was interested in, it had made him feel like he was ordering from a take-out menu.
All he could say was what he told anyone who actually bothered to ask. He hadn't found the person he wanted to marry, yet. Let them think he was waiting for true love.
It seemed impossible to tell any of them that he was happy. His career was, if a trifle boring at times, satisfying and stable and one he was really very good at. If he ever feared getting bored, he got plenty of excitement whether he wanted it or not, thanks to his cousin. Other than the enforced dates to keep his mother appeased, his social life was exactly the way he liked it. He hung out with the guys at the bar when he wanted to, and otherwise he did as he pleased. He'd never needed another person to share things with, and was, quite sincerely, happy to be alone when he wanted to be.
He suspected that Betans would consider that grounds for extensive therapy. His mother would look at him disapprovingly, then tell him stiffly that he could be just as alone as he liked, once he got married and had a few children. Let his wife have a consort and hire a nanny for the children, and he could live like a bachelor as much as he wanted.
Eventually, he hoped, they would leave him alone. Miles' children would take up more of their time as they grew up and being grandmothers would distract them both -- he hoped -- from harassing Ivan.
He'd still get those Looks from his mother, he knew. I just want you to be happy.
Ivan didn't think he could convince her that he was. Sooner or later after she returned to Barrayar, she would start up again, looking for appropriate spouses. Or even slightly inappropriate, as long as they were healthy and female and willing. He considered again his cousin's drunken, laughing suggestion that Ivan tell his mother to have another child, and raise it to marry and give her grandkids.
He shuddered at the thought she might take the suggestion seriously. She and Illyan could have a daughter. She could grow up and marry one of Miles' boys, and they could make the lines of inheritance even more convoluted.
Ivan saw that Aunt Cordelia's message had finally wound down. Nothing unexpected in it, just maternal concern that he maybe wasn't making the best choices for his life. He decided to give himself some time before trying to reply; he didn't know if she could tell he'd been drinking, but one never knew with mothers. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea -- or the right one, that he had to brace himself to get through yet another What About Ivan missive.
He switched the comconsole off, and took his glass of wine over to the easy chair. Setting the glass down, he picked up the book he'd left there the night before. Thumbing it open, he found where he'd left off, and began to read.