Wildflowers

2 March 2006

Miles takes Gregor on a much-needed vacation; inspired by Tom Petty's song "Wildflowers". This takes place sometime after the Epilogue of _A Deeper Season_. As usual, it has much to do with being visible, or invisible, and Gregor's anxieties about that. I wrote this for no reason other than wanting to create its sweetness.

I am informed that certain parts of this piece are AU to _What Passing Bells_, the sequel to ADS. But it is relatively minor AU...

ou belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea Sail away, kill off the hours You belong somewhere you feel free Run away, find you a lover Go away somewhere bright and new I have seen no other Who compares with you

Gregor was stretched out, shirtless, on the deck of a small boat on the lake at Vorkosigan Surleau. His eyes were closed, and a slight smile played around his lips. It was rare for him to feel this relaxed, this content. The summer sun warmed his body, and when he opened his eyes, finding Miles regarding him with an equal expression of contentment, his heart warmed to match.

Getting away from Vorbarr Sultana had required a great deal of planning, and hard advance work on Gregor's part. But watching Miles watch him now, Gregor knew it was worth it. He certainly deserved a small vacation, following what had been a difficult session of the Council of Counts.

Miles was giving him a small sideways smile, the kind that Gregor now recognized as an invitation. But out here on the boat seemed too open and vulnerable, especially with at least one ImpSec guard on-shore keeping an eye on things. A moment later, when Miles reached towards him, Gregor caught his wrist and pushed it back, gently. "Not here. But..."

Miles was visibly frustrated. Of course Gregor wanted him, here on this boat, somewhere else, anywhere really. But he was still terribly self-conscious. Even remembering that he and Miles had carefully chosen what men to bring with them, so that ImpSec guard on shore probably knew everything already... that didn't mean Gregor wanted the man to see it.

"Let's go in to shore," Miles said. "The pavilion at the the top of the rise might suit you better...."

Indeed. Gregor had spent time with Miles there, before everything. They'd played there as children, actually. Once, when Gregor was in his teens and having a quiet struggle with himself about power, love, and hurt, Miles' mother had taken him up to the pavilion and told him about finding Aral Vorkosigan there, drunk and ruined, when she'd first arrived on Barrayar. It was a place utterly exposed, yet equally private.

By the time they arrived at the pavilion, Gregor was so full of outrageous desire, he very nearly snapped when Miles made to sit down on the deck chair next to the one he'd settled into. But Miles saw his expression, and humor crossed his face as he changed paths and snuggled right in next to Gregor. "Patience, patience," he said lightly. Gregor laughed, and pulled Miles in close, and kissed him until a lovely flush rose across his skin, and his breath quickened. From there, everything was easy...

They stayed at the pavilion until the setting sun played across their bodies, long and lean next to small and wiry. Gregor stirred a bit, and woke the dozing Miles. Every day, his convictions about Miles strengthened. "You ... are incomparable." he said quietly, as he watched Miles lower his eyes, in a way that now meant, Gregor knew, utter amazement -- and agreement.

ou belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea You belong with your love on your arm You belong somewhere you feel free Run away, go find a lover Run away, let your heart be your guide You deserve the deepest of cover You belong in that home by and by

A day later, they rode into the hills, Miles on Fat Ninny and Gregor on one of his own glossy black beasts, now permanently boarded at Vorkosigan Surleau. They'd ridden in the fields surrounding the estate before, but this was the first time they'd headed towards the backcountry. It felt very private, even if there were ImpSec guards following them at a respectful distance.

For the sake of Miles' elderly mount, they stayed at a walk, side by side and holding hands. Gregor already planned to give Miles two new horses, one for here and one for Vorbarr Sultana, for his next birthday. Thanks to the Barrayaran love affair with all things Horse, one of the Emperor's duties was to maintain a top-quality horse-breeding and -training program, so Gregor had suitable horses for Miles to choose from.

As they rode, Gregor had vague memories of some of the places they passed. He grew quiet, thinking about the mad flight he'd taken with old Count Piotr, a couple of Vorkosigan Armsmen, and Miles' mother when he was just five years old. They'd managed to keep him alive through the end of Vordarian's Pretendership, but it hadn't been easy. And now, here he was, riding through the same woods, in love rather than fear. Or perhaps, still a bit fearful -- this went with being Emperor -- but love helped with that.

"What is it?" asked Miles.

Gregor replied, "It's just so... unreal." Miles looked back at him, clearly mystified. "I was five years old, the last time I was here. A little boy, terrified, and having no idea of my importance. And now..."

"People say you might be the greatest Emperor of Barrayar."

"I know," Gregor said quietly. "And yet... Do I want that?"

"Does it matter?"

"You know I wish more than anything that it didn't. Yet, if people knew about us..." He tightened his grip on Miles' hand. "Would they still count me among the greatest?"

"Barrayarans have forgiven worse, for an Emperor matched to their needs at the time. We need sanity and peace now, and you're very good for that."

"I suppose." This sort of talk was inducing the usual dreams of running off-world with Miles, to somewhere they could just be anonymous citizens. He'd be a poet, surely. But what would Miles be? Miles wouldn't take well to anonymity.

Gregor suddenly realized, strangely enough, that by choosing Miles, he'd bound himself to Barrayar and this decidedly non-anonymous life. And, strangely enough, it didn't bother him nearly as much as he would have expected.

About two hours out from Vorkosigan Surleau, Miles paused for a moment. "Close your eyes."

"On horseback?"

"Yes... C'mon, I know Gran'da made you ride with your eyes closed, when you were learning. And it's just until we get around this bend. I'll tell you when it's OK to open them again."

Gregor felt his horse turn slightly, and Miles asked him, "What do you smell?"

"Um... flowers... roses. Mmmm, that's nice."

"OK, you can open your eyes now." Gregor did, and found that they were in a small clearing, surrounded by a swath of pink Earth roses, at least half a kilometer wide, stretching forth from their path and growing into some of the trees on the edge of the forest.

"This is... lovely. Here I've been giving you cut roses, when you have this..."

Miles reached to release a bundle strapped to Fat Ninny's saddle and dismounted; Gregor followed, as they let the horses wander. Ah. Clearly Miles had been planning again; he shook out a blanket in the grass, and set out two glasses and a bottle of wine. Gregor found Miles' hands, and placed his own within them. The gesture that he'd first used to convey his feelings for Miles had long ago lost its treasonous overtones, and grown comforting, over time. He remembered, for a moment, Miles' shock, his flight, eventually followed by ever-growing acceptance of his role in Gregor's life.

Gregor turned shy as he thought of what he wanted. "How, um, remote is this spot?" he asked.

"Well, other than our friends the ImpSec guards who undoubtedly are out of sight, but close enough that they'd be here within two minutes if we called them... There's no one out here but us, Gregor."

Gregor lowered his eyes for a moment. Here he was, arguably the most powerful man on this planet and two others, able to command any resource he wanted, and yet when it was just the two of them, Miles could undo it all with a few words, or the simplest gesture. He shook himself out of it, and squeezed Miles' hands tighter. "That is ... good." He let go of Miles' hands, laid back on the blanket, and gave Miles a gentle tug to pull him down.

This was going to be fast, Gregor could tell, as clothes came off nearly without assistance, frantic kisses spilled across faces and chests and more, hands sought to give pleasure as if they'd been released from some trap. There were so many ways to make love, more than he ever could have imagined, and though he'd never said so to Miles, Gregor favored this torrential rush over anything else. There was no time for doubt, here, no second guesses, and eventually, no time for thoughts of any sort.

Some time later, Gregor took advantage of Miles' post-coital snooze to gather some roses. There was a bit of Old Earth poetry in his mind, an image he thought he could create right here... as long as Miles didn't wake up. When he thought he had enough, he started stripping petals from them and gently dropping them around Miles.

A breeze sent a few errant petals onto Miles' face, and he jerked awake and sneezed. "What the hell?" he spluttered, half sitting up. Gregor bent and gently pushed him down.

"Calm down, love. Look."

Miles raised his head enough to see the pink petals all around him. He rolled his eyes. Gregor went on dropping petals, and murmuring the poem's sweet phrases, half to himself.

"You are as naked as the center of flying, All your names and signs.
Look at how your instruments sleep in praise. You hear yourself.
You are surrounded by roses."

Miles half-pouted at him. "Gah, you are such a silly romantic boy."

"Of course. But may I point out that you brought me here?" After a moment during which Miles looked like he was searching for a suitably pointed retort, he nodded acknowledgment and stretched back and smiled as Gregor continued dropping rose petals around him.

Eventually, Gregor sat down again. "How did you find this place?" he asked.

"We passed through here when I was sent to Silvy Vale to serve as my father's Voice in judging an infanticide case. I haven't been up here since then."

"Ugh. I think I remember a bit about that."

"Yes. I sometimes think that what I did with that incident was more important than anything I did as Admiral Naismith, at least for Barrayar."

"How could that be? One little hamlet versus half the known universe?"

"It's far more personal, when it's on that level. Hanna and Lem Csurik, the ones whose baby was murdered, and the others, by seeing what someone like me could do," Miles gestured at his small, scarred body, "got inspired. And their inspiration is catching on with the other hillmen, slowly, but it is."

"Do you want to go there?" Miles asked. The question startled Gregor, because it was exactly the direction his own thoughts had been taking him. They said that this happened with old married couples; maybe he and Miles were just getting there ahead of time?

Gregor was doubtful, though. He started to answer, "Yes, but..."

"You're wondering how they'd take... this," Miles said, gesturing with his free hand towards their clasped grip.

"I have to."

"I know. So do I. But, they are... my people. The Csuriks, well, I can't imagine them objecting, though we'll have to allow them room for surprise. The others... I have no idea. But I don't think we need to say anything to them just yet, and if we are keeping almost all of Vorbarr Sultana fooled, so far..."

"Are we?"

"Well... I'll admit it's getting more difficult. But they see us together all the time..."

"But... we'll have to take Armsmen, ImpSec... the whole show. To some little backcountry hamlet utterly unprepared..."

"For us? They were unprepared for me, twelve years ago, and it all turned out well enough. And..." Miles caught the longing in Gregor's expression. "It's remote. Far away from most everything and everyone who'd take the wrong sort of interest. It's as close to freedom, I think, as I can get you."

"I just don't know..."

"Silvy Vale is... It's the place where I am closest to what I want to be."

That was a compelling enough argument for Gregor.

ou belong among the wildflowers You belong somewhere close to me Far away from your trouble and worry You belong somewhere you feel free You belong somewhere you feel free

Two days later, their aircar touched down in the clearing in front of Lem and Harra Csurik's cabin. They'd managed to shed all but a minimal entourage. Four men -- two ImpSec guards, Gregor's new Armsman Robb, and Pym -- had been sent ahead for security purposes. Pym carried a flimsy from Miles to the Csuriks, asking for simple privacy and alluding to a need for his (unidentified) guest to avoid public ceremony, at least on the day of his arrival.

Lem and Harra Csurik were waiting for them. Both were barefoot, Harra heavily pregnant. Lem did a doubletake as he realized just who Miles had with him. "Sire." he said, with a small bow. "Welcome. It is a pleasure for us to host you." Harra dropped her head for a moment in a symbolic curtsy.

Gregor murmured a greeting, suddenly shy before these humble folk. Miles, on the other hand, strode up to Harra and took her hands in his, and leaned up to kiss her cheek.

Harra looked from Miles to Gregor and back again. A slight frown crossed her face, and then she blinked, and looked again at the two of them, and smiled a broad, welcoming smile. "Sire, my Lord, I think... we didn't know that my Lord's guest would be you. But... our doctor is gone for a few days, and we prepared his cabin for you, just down a ways here." She grinned at them, and turned to lead the way.

The cabin, about 10 minutes' walk from Harra and Lem's, was, in fact, lovely. And private, even though on their walk over, Gregor had noted the tents of various ImpSec guards and Armsmen. A little flower-strewn meadow sloped down in front, and the stone porch managed to look rustic and skillfully constructed all at once. The structure was newer -- the two rooms inside and the sink with running water indicated that -- but still charming. Gregor went into the back room and sat on the bed, while Miles stepped outside again to talk with Harra.

When Miles came back in, a few minutes later, he caught Gregor's unease. "Hey, what's got you worried?"

"There's only one bed."

"And?"

"It's too obvious."

"Somehow I think a lot of the residents of Silvy Vale don't have what we would consider the appropriate number of beds."

"Oh. There is that. But I'm..."

Miles shifted himself to stand at attention, and took what would have been his most serious, ceremonial voice, if not for the amusement leaking around its edges. "But you're Emperor Gregor Vorbarra, Sire, and you're not used to going native."

"You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Of course," said Miles with a smile, recovering his more casual demeanor. "And there's a couch in the front room, if you'd like to be sure no one thinks..."

Gregor grabbed Miles' wrists, surprising himself with his need. "No. Please. Just stay here with me."

"I thought that's what you would want." Miles leaned in closer for a kiss, and Gregor obliged. But...

He pulled away, still not reassured. "What if they come back, offering a better place to stay?"

"Gah! There probably is no better place in all of Silvy Vale. So stop torturing yourself! I've told Harra the cabin is wonderful, that our Armsmen will bring us dinner, and that you've had a long, hard session with the Council of Counts for the past couple of weeks and would like to relax until tomorrow." Miles paused for a moment, and Gregor just had the sense that one of those lines, the ones that made Miles endearing and terrifying all at the same time, was coming. "Seriously, I have everything under control!"

Gregor raised his eyebrows.

"You don't believe me?" Miles sounded slightly hurt by Gregor's obvious skepticism.

"Whenever you've said that before..."

Miles' response to Gregor's doubts was to step in close and run his hands up Gregor's inner thighs. Gregor's breath quickened -- this was a proven move on Miles' part -- and he started to kiss Miles again, but before he could do much, Miles gave him a none-too-gentle push backwards onto the bed, and fell right down on top of him and continued his explorations, hands everywhere. Miles paused for a moment, and gave Gregor an evil grin. "See? It took about 10 seconds for me to make you not care anymore about whether I really have everything under control."

"Yeah. Um, make me not care some more, OK?"

"Only if you recipro..." Gregor interrupted Miles by biting his neck, and sending him into a conversation-ending, shivery reverie. A few seconds later, Gregor had Miles blinking, hard, as he slipped his hands under Miles' clothing.

Gregor awoke to a comlink chiming, and experienced the usual moment of panic over what emergency it might signal. But it was one of Miles', which meant less to worry about.

"Dinner, Pym? Yes, soon. Is there enough food for Lem and Harra, too?" Gregor startled as Miles reached under the blankets and ran a hand down his torso. Having apparently found what he was hoping to, Miles gave Gregor a crooked grin. "Good. But, do me a favor. Give us 30 minutes or so, OK?"

"Going for seconds, greedy boy?" Gregor quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Of course," Miles murmured, as he did something that just made Gregor melt.

Thanks to Tember for finding me the lovely 'Y'.