[Fic -- Chalion] Balance of Power
June 22nd, 2009 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shimotsukiOnce upon a time, there was a meme. Months ago, now. I don't even properly remember what it was... But there was a challenge component, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mrstater challenged me to write some Cazaril/Betriz.
Anyway, I hope this counts -- even though dy Ferrej elbowed his way into the story and insisted on having a whole scene to himself!
Balance of Power (1350 words | PG)Balance of Power
Cardegoss, on the evening of Cazaril’s return from Taryoon
Torches cast unsteady shadows along the courtyard walls. The air was chilly and clear, a welcome counterpoint to rich food and strong wine.
The silence was refreshing, too. Laughter and voices still drifted faintly from the banquet hall, and there was an occasional cough or rustle of silk from a guard or a lady in waiting somewhere in the shadows. But now that Cazaril was away from the press of well-wishers (and sycophants), he could finally hear himself think.
The first thought he had was how nice it was to feel Betriz’s warm, strong hand on his arm, to smell the scent of her hair as she walked beside him through the moonlit garden. To smile down into her merry brown eyes and see her own smile widen in response.
The second thing that occurred to him, however, was not such a pleasant thought. He couldn’t help stiffening a little in dismay.
Betriz noticed, of course. “Are you feeling all right? There’s a bench—we could sit for a while.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” And he was, despite—or possibly because of—the long days of slow, careful riding that must have tried Palli’s patience. “I’ve just realized that I must write to your father.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What for? You can’t ask him for my hand, you know. The royina of all Chalion-Ibra has already given yours to me!”
Cazaril’s answering smile was wry. “That is so, but I imagine your father would appreciate some sort of gesture, all the same.” Ser dy Ferrej struck him as the sort of man who liked things to be traditional. Predictable.
Betriz searched his face and began to chuckle. “Caz, you’re actually nervous! There’s no need to be—Papa likes you. He has from the start. He wouldn’t have lent you his second-best sword if he didn’t.”
“He likes me well enough, for myself,” Cazaril allowed. “But I’m not sure a landless rogue who writes bad poetry is really what your father had in mind for your future. He is a castle warder, after all.”
Betriz shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “I really don’t think he could ask for anything more respectable than you, my lord Chancellor.”
With his free hand, Cazaril touched the heavy gold chain of office that Iselle and Bergon had presented to him only a few hours before. He sighed.
Betriz’s words were not untrue.
But the problem was, she didn’t know the whole of the truth.
She had never even noticed him cowering on that bench in the castle courtyard in Valenda, only just a year ago—hadn’t seen how miserably he twisted his fingers as he waited for the man who held Cazaril’s fate in his hands as surely as he wore the keys to the Provincara’s castle at his belt.
Cazaril closed his eyes.
Respectable, Betriz had called him just now.
When in truth, if not for a single act of charity on the good warder’s part, the present chancellor of Chalion would most likely have been scraping by as a half-crippled water-carrier in the Provincara’s kitchen.
And it was dy Ferrej who would always know, better than anyone, how terribly, terribly differently things could have turned out for him. Dy Ferrej—the very man whose daughter Cazaril now had the temerity to pledge to wed.
The news of their betrothal might not be received so very well in Valenda.
Still, one of life’s rare certainties was the fact that unpleasant tasks rarely became less so for being postponed.
“I must write to your father,” he said again, before stooping to taste the sweetness of Betriz’s kiss. “Tomorrow, first thing.”
. * . * .
Valenda, three days later
The clatter of swift hooves and the cry of “Hallo, Castle Valenda!” brought dy Ferrej himself to the gate at once. It was unexpected for the household to receive a message by courier just now, with the Provincara and even the dowager royina gone to court for the coronation.
He was even more surprised when the letter turned out to be for him.
Dy Ferrej blinked once at the bright red wax of the chancellery seal, wondering for the space of a heartbeat what Martou dy Jironal could possibly want with a mere castle warder.
But of course, dy Jironal was dead.
Then he saw the second seal, the one stamped in blue with the image of a crow on the three letters CAZ. And he remembered what he’d heard the previous day, from a company of passing soldiers, about just who it was that Iselle had appointed as her new chancellor.
Ah. Dy Ferrej nodded briskly in approval. That was an excellent choice on the young royina’s part. Cazaril was both loyal and shrewd—exactly what the chancellorship needed.
Once the courier and his tired horse had been directed to the stables, dy Ferrej broke the seals and opened the letter.
A grin spread across his face as he read.
“Well,” he breathed, when he reached the end.
One of the castle hounds, following at his feet, cocked her head at him.
“My Betriz is going to marry Lord dy Cazaril!” Dy Ferrej needed an audience for his triumph, and the dog would have to do.
No need to fear, now, that his girl would lose her head and run off with an unsuitable boy, or that she would be forced into some sort of unsavory alliance for political reasons. Honest Cazaril could certainly be trusted to give Betriz a good home.
Not to mention— Dy Ferrej’s grin grew a little wider as he made his way toward his chambers to put the letter safely away. It was something, for the daughter of a castle warder to be the wife of the chancellor of Chalion. Betriz had done very well.
Then he stopped short.
His gaze had fallen on one of the benches in the courtyard, where the soft golden light from the setting sun was pooling. Just as it had done a year ago.
Dy Ferrej could almost see the man who had huddled there, still stiff from his half-healed wounds and flinching at sudden movements—the unknown and decidedly odd-looking traveler who had walked from Ibra to Valenda to beg an audience with the Provincara.
He hadn’t thought about that night in months. The image of Cazaril in his mind now was always that of the wry witty tutor, who had taught Iselle and Betriz so competently and managed to make even stubborn Teidez think a little bit.
But now dy Ferrej remembered how torn he had felt, between his duty to protect the Provincara from those who might impose on her or even threaten her, and his curiosity about the man who dressed like a scholar or a lord but wore no sword at all.
The enormity of what that night had meant hit him squarely for the first time.
Suppose he hadn’t taken the stranger’s request to the Provincara. Suppose he had told the man to go away, and let a guard usher him out through the castle gates without a second glance.
Never mind Betriz and her happy prospects for marriage—where would Chalion be now without Cazaril at court to look out for Iselle?
The letter crinkled in his hand.
With Teidez and Orico dead, Ias’s last heir would still have become royina. But there would have been no one to keep Martou dy Jironal from using her to solidify his stranglehold over the royacy. No one to negotiate like the Bastard himself with the Fox of Ibra—no one to bring Royse Bergon back over the mountains for Iselle to marry, which was all that had allowed her to keep control of her own throne, let alone the future unification of Chalion and Ibra.
If dy Ferrej had made the wrong choice that night last year, things might have turned out so terribly, terribly differently.
He shuddered and signed himself hastily. “Thank the gods for their guidance,” he whispered.
Then he folded his letter again and smoothed his finger over the reassuring red wax of the chancellery seal.
. * fin * .
[ To Chalion/Vorkosigan story index ]
.
mrstater challenged me to write some Cazaril/Betriz.Anyway, I hope this counts -- even though dy Ferrej elbowed his way into the story and insisted on having a whole scene to himself!
Balance of Power (1350 words | PG)
- A single decision by Ser dy Ferrej once changed the course of Cazaril’s life. Now Cazaril must ask an even greater favor of the only man who knows just how close he came to having nothing at all.
Cardegoss, on the evening of Cazaril’s return from Taryoon
Torches cast unsteady shadows along the courtyard walls. The air was chilly and clear, a welcome counterpoint to rich food and strong wine.
The silence was refreshing, too. Laughter and voices still drifted faintly from the banquet hall, and there was an occasional cough or rustle of silk from a guard or a lady in waiting somewhere in the shadows. But now that Cazaril was away from the press of well-wishers (and sycophants), he could finally hear himself think.
The first thought he had was how nice it was to feel Betriz’s warm, strong hand on his arm, to smell the scent of her hair as she walked beside him through the moonlit garden. To smile down into her merry brown eyes and see her own smile widen in response.
The second thing that occurred to him, however, was not such a pleasant thought. He couldn’t help stiffening a little in dismay.
Betriz noticed, of course. “Are you feeling all right? There’s a bench—we could sit for a while.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” And he was, despite—or possibly because of—the long days of slow, careful riding that must have tried Palli’s patience. “I’ve just realized that I must write to your father.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What for? You can’t ask him for my hand, you know. The royina of all Chalion-Ibra has already given yours to me!”
Cazaril’s answering smile was wry. “That is so, but I imagine your father would appreciate some sort of gesture, all the same.” Ser dy Ferrej struck him as the sort of man who liked things to be traditional. Predictable.
Betriz searched his face and began to chuckle. “Caz, you’re actually nervous! There’s no need to be—Papa likes you. He has from the start. He wouldn’t have lent you his second-best sword if he didn’t.”
“He likes me well enough, for myself,” Cazaril allowed. “But I’m not sure a landless rogue who writes bad poetry is really what your father had in mind for your future. He is a castle warder, after all.”
Betriz shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “I really don’t think he could ask for anything more respectable than you, my lord Chancellor.”
With his free hand, Cazaril touched the heavy gold chain of office that Iselle and Bergon had presented to him only a few hours before. He sighed.
Betriz’s words were not untrue.
But the problem was, she didn’t know the whole of the truth.
She had never even noticed him cowering on that bench in the castle courtyard in Valenda, only just a year ago—hadn’t seen how miserably he twisted his fingers as he waited for the man who held Cazaril’s fate in his hands as surely as he wore the keys to the Provincara’s castle at his belt.
Cazaril closed his eyes.
Respectable, Betriz had called him just now.
When in truth, if not for a single act of charity on the good warder’s part, the present chancellor of Chalion would most likely have been scraping by as a half-crippled water-carrier in the Provincara’s kitchen.
And it was dy Ferrej who would always know, better than anyone, how terribly, terribly differently things could have turned out for him. Dy Ferrej—the very man whose daughter Cazaril now had the temerity to pledge to wed.
The news of their betrothal might not be received so very well in Valenda.
Still, one of life’s rare certainties was the fact that unpleasant tasks rarely became less so for being postponed.
“I must write to your father,” he said again, before stooping to taste the sweetness of Betriz’s kiss. “Tomorrow, first thing.”
Valenda, three days later
The clatter of swift hooves and the cry of “Hallo, Castle Valenda!” brought dy Ferrej himself to the gate at once. It was unexpected for the household to receive a message by courier just now, with the Provincara and even the dowager royina gone to court for the coronation.
He was even more surprised when the letter turned out to be for him.
Dy Ferrej blinked once at the bright red wax of the chancellery seal, wondering for the space of a heartbeat what Martou dy Jironal could possibly want with a mere castle warder.
But of course, dy Jironal was dead.
Then he saw the second seal, the one stamped in blue with the image of a crow on the three letters CAZ. And he remembered what he’d heard the previous day, from a company of passing soldiers, about just who it was that Iselle had appointed as her new chancellor.
Ah. Dy Ferrej nodded briskly in approval. That was an excellent choice on the young royina’s part. Cazaril was both loyal and shrewd—exactly what the chancellorship needed.
Once the courier and his tired horse had been directed to the stables, dy Ferrej broke the seals and opened the letter.
A grin spread across his face as he read.
“Well,” he breathed, when he reached the end.
One of the castle hounds, following at his feet, cocked her head at him.
“My Betriz is going to marry Lord dy Cazaril!” Dy Ferrej needed an audience for his triumph, and the dog would have to do.
No need to fear, now, that his girl would lose her head and run off with an unsuitable boy, or that she would be forced into some sort of unsavory alliance for political reasons. Honest Cazaril could certainly be trusted to give Betriz a good home.
Not to mention— Dy Ferrej’s grin grew a little wider as he made his way toward his chambers to put the letter safely away. It was something, for the daughter of a castle warder to be the wife of the chancellor of Chalion. Betriz had done very well.
Then he stopped short.
His gaze had fallen on one of the benches in the courtyard, where the soft golden light from the setting sun was pooling. Just as it had done a year ago.
Dy Ferrej could almost see the man who had huddled there, still stiff from his half-healed wounds and flinching at sudden movements—the unknown and decidedly odd-looking traveler who had walked from Ibra to Valenda to beg an audience with the Provincara.
He hadn’t thought about that night in months. The image of Cazaril in his mind now was always that of the wry witty tutor, who had taught Iselle and Betriz so competently and managed to make even stubborn Teidez think a little bit.
But now dy Ferrej remembered how torn he had felt, between his duty to protect the Provincara from those who might impose on her or even threaten her, and his curiosity about the man who dressed like a scholar or a lord but wore no sword at all.
The enormity of what that night had meant hit him squarely for the first time.
Suppose he hadn’t taken the stranger’s request to the Provincara. Suppose he had told the man to go away, and let a guard usher him out through the castle gates without a second glance.
Never mind Betriz and her happy prospects for marriage—where would Chalion be now without Cazaril at court to look out for Iselle?
The letter crinkled in his hand.
With Teidez and Orico dead, Ias’s last heir would still have become royina. But there would have been no one to keep Martou dy Jironal from using her to solidify his stranglehold over the royacy. No one to negotiate like the Bastard himself with the Fox of Ibra—no one to bring Royse Bergon back over the mountains for Iselle to marry, which was all that had allowed her to keep control of her own throne, let alone the future unification of Chalion and Ibra.
If dy Ferrej had made the wrong choice that night last year, things might have turned out so terribly, terribly differently.
He shuddered and signed himself hastily. “Thank the gods for their guidance,” he whispered.
Then he folded his letter again and smoothed his finger over the reassuring red wax of the chancellery seal.
[ To Chalion/Vorkosigan story index ]
.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 08:31 am (UTC)I enjoyed this very much indeed. It's nice to get into the head of Dy Ferrej for once, given that we don't see that much in canon, and I especially enjoyed him talking to the dog! (I suppose it's probably a bit lonley for him at Valenda, with so many people in Cardegoss for the coronation.)
I thought all the characterisations were spot on, and really enjoyed the contrast between Caz's imaginings and reality. So typically him!
I'm feeling all inspired now! You've reminded me how much I want to write some Chalion. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 06:20 pm (UTC)I've thought some about the glimpse of dy Ferrej we get through Ista's eyes in Paladin. She's annoyed as heck at the way he hems her in, but even with that she can't really dislike him, and I think that says a lot about his character. That, and the way he chastises Iselle after the incident with racing the horses too hard.
Thanks for reading and enjoying. I hope you do have a chance to write some Chalion fic -- I'd love to read it!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 10:35 am (UTC)I really love this, I need to get more chalion fan art and fanfictions out there!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 06:21 pm (UTC)It would be great to have some more Chalion fic and art around. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 01:38 pm (UTC)How lovely! Caz is so cute, being all nervous about dy Ferrej, and of course expecting the worst. It's brilliant how you used that same memory to bring out Caz's insecurities and inadequacies, as well as to have dy Ferrej realize how important one choice can be. I love how happy and proud he is for Betriz.
Sigh. Thank you for writing this!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 06:25 pm (UTC)(I know you're having a busy week, so I wasn't expecting you to spot this via your f-list! But I'm glad you did, since it saves me having to go find whatever that meme post of yours was was and leave a comment that I'd finished my challenge. ;) Hope your visit is going well.)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 07:49 pm (UTC)And Cazaril being nervous about asking for another favour from this man to whom he owes so much is really spot on.
Well-told story! thank you for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 08:40 pm (UTC)Me too! I'm not exactly sure how the gods work in the Chalion universe, but it seems that you have to let yourself be open to them working through you -- so even if the Daughter did have something to do with dy Ferrej's decision, maybe it would have been the one he'd have made anyway? I do like dy Ferrej.
(I can also imagine him sizing up Caz's physical condition and deciding it was a safe chance to take, because he could just knock this strange guy over if he tried anything funny in front of the Provincara. ;) )
Thanks for the kind words. I enjoyed exploring the relationship between Cazaril and his father-in-law-to-be.
BTW -- I will definitely have a review for you by the time you get back! I've been so excited to read/view your project, but I haven't managed to have (a) free time and (b) a high-speed connection in the same place at the same time. :(
no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-26 06:54 am (UTC)How very like Cazaril to think that Dy Ferrej would think less of him because he knew how low he had fallen; and how very like Dy Ferrej to be wiser than that.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-26 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-26 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-26 10:47 pm (UTC)(By the way, I have a personal rule that I can't read Vorkosigan fic yet -- I'm only up to Memory and I'm trying not to get (too) spoiled. But I wanted to let you know that I see you posting lots of really interesting-looking things, and I hope to be able to read them someday!)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-27 08:47 pm (UTC)Dy Ferrej always reminds me of someone who'd have made a good head prefect, being an absolute stickler for rules (and health and safety), but very much with his heart and head in the right place. You've captured that impression here, I especially liked the order of his thoughts as he is reassured with the news: firstly, that Betriz herself won't do anything rash or unsuitable, then that she won't be forced into a political alliance, and, finally, that he will have an honest and trustworthy son-in-law.
I really like the parallel memory idea and the title. I'm desperately trying to avoid saying 'it's our choices that define us' (and failing), but they do say a lot about both men here, with or without the guidance of the gods. I also thought Caz's wry and downbeat one of life’s rare certainties was the fact that unpleasant tasks rarely became less so for being postponed sounded so perfectly him, it could have been lifted from the pages of Chalion.
Thank you - reading this has been a very pleasant end to a very long day. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-30 02:20 pm (UTC)they do say a lot about both men here, with or without the guidance of the gods
That's exactly what I was going for! Both men are underestimating their worth and/or contributions as they think about what has happened between them, because neither one is the type to pat himself on the back for being a hero.
I'm also happy to hear you liked that line about procrastination, because I wasn't sure if the style of the phrasing was a little too much. (Now if only I took that advice myself...)
Thanks so much for taking the time to read this and leave such thoughtful comments -- you must have had quite a lot of f-list to wade through to even find this! :)
(Oh, and I wish I had thought of Caz's personal seal, but Ista notes it in Paladin when Cazaril sends her the dy Guras for her pilgrimage.)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-30 04:10 pm (UTC)I need to read this book a million and one times! I'd forgotten that completely...
no subject
Date: 2009-07-02 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-29 07:25 pm (UTC)Great job, please write some more Chalion fic! (I think I was challeneged to write some also, must get around to that eventually ;) )
(gah no Caz icon! Remus will have to do!)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-30 02:24 pm (UTC)And thanks also for the encouragement -- I am working on another small Chalion/Paladin ficlet, actually. ;) I'd love to read one from you, too!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-02 03:49 am (UTC)