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Squeal.
Omg it's done! A shower right, then proof-reading and last minute clean ups, seeing that I ripped out a plot device half way and put in another, and and and. Done! Done!
(And because work habits are really hard to shake, I nearly hit Ctrl-P to print out a hard copy to proof)
ETA: And here it is.
I call it the postmortem because I usually feel dead after writing the fic. And omg do I feel dead this time. This has got to be the fastest fic I've ever written, including my Nano attempt last year. I had a month to do Nano. I did this sucker in about three to four days. In between a couple of my worst work weeks ever.
So, I was taking this break from the Vorkosigan fics after I blew my brain cells out on Aletheia, for Winterfair. And it's hard to top Aletheia. I was actually going to maybe make just a token appearance in the ficathon, but then there were SO MANY brilliant prompts this round, and this one snagged my attention straightaway and wouldn't let me go again. I finished the outline in one sitting.
I've been on a bit of a rich-boys-being-boys kick lately, thanks a new favourite character (Tora Igarashi) hitting all my buttons, and his appearance dragging Rufus Shinra of Final Fantasy 7 fame (and my oldest and most beloved muse) out of hiding. Granted, those two do it with a lot more style than Serg.
So anyway. I've been rather sympathetic to Serg ever since Philomytha's Serg/Aral, and I think some of that comes through here. Gregor's impressive and Ezar's impressive, there's no reason to believe why Serg wouldn't be either. Besides, a Serg who's handsome, charming, cunning, and a massive creep is far more interesting.
An interesting observation that I made halfway through. So, because Alys doesn't know Simon at the start of the fic, and the fic is from her PoV, I had him as 'Illyan' all the way through. Or that was the plan, anyway. Legal training is really hard to shake, and consistency in your defined terms is one of those things I shouldn't be able to run away from. Especially when I'm making an effort. Right? Right? Wrong.
In the later scenes, as Alys and Simon got progressively closer, I just kept slipping from 'Illyan' into 'Simon'. Over and over again. Despite my making a conscious effort not to. It'd slip at the most natural of places too - there's a scene where Alys walks into Simon's room, and he's 'Illyan' at first, because Alys is still maintaining that distance, that boundary, and then when she does't notice, and evidently when I don't notice either, suddenly the text is littered with 'Simon'. After painstakingly correcting this for like the millionth time, I decided - oh hey, let's just let it go. It's very clear that Alys' mental voice has switched to calling him Simon, it's perfectly natural in the circumstances, even I can't stop myself from doing it - ok let's do it. (Unbelievable struggle, believe me. I'm anal about internal consistency in my drafts.)
Until the very last moment, the plan was actually to have Gregor born to Simon and Alys. The first draft of the fic actually does have the scene written in where Alys convinces herself (and Simon) actually go through with it (and there's some back and forth discussion of whether it's a good idea, but overall, it happens because it's such a crazy idea that neither of them really talk about it or think it through - it was intended as a she moved; he moved, meeting her halfway kind of scene, something born on the spur of the moment and out of desperation). And Ezar would know, of course, and say nothing, and the ending would close with Alys feeling sad that Gregor would never know who his true father is, and Simon's "But we'll know, and that's good enough for me."
Good? I don't know. Writing the part about persuading Simon was downright difficult (the decision was driven by Alys), and it bothered me endlessly (another good reason to let your fics cook before posting). Simon didn't like it because it was too risky and the consequences were too great - if anyone ever found out, there would be hell to pay, even after Gregor ascended to the throne. Or campstool, anyway. Alys didn't like it because it was running away from her duty. So I fought with myself over it for a while and asked myself just why I wanted it (dramatic impact, maybe?) and then realised that I didn't need it - this is a story about love and duty, and that very struggle between temptation and duty fits right in.
I pass the test; I will diminish, go into the West, and remain Galadriel.
Thus decided, I went back, ripped it out, had to patch up a few things along the way after that (parallels were drawn between that desperate scheme and the desperation of the Escobar scheme), and was pleasantly surprised to find that it actually worked, and the epilogue (which was the only thing left unwritten when I pulled that scene), just wrote itself, and fit far better into the entire overall framework of the fic (duty, love, loyalty, choices).
Here's the deleted scene:
--
In response, Alys moved to kiss him.
The surprise on his face was almost comical, and she might have laughed, if she had any heart for it. She shushed the protests that were starting to grow on his lips instead. "In times of despair," she said, in the barest of whispers, "Desperate measures must prevail, for the good of the Imperium..."
He blinked, then the start of understanding lit his eyes. "Are you certain about this, milady?" he asked, deathly serious. "I'm not sure if it's a good--"
"You're the ImpSec officer," she returned, "What are the risks? Is there any way anyone would ever find out?"
Illyan closed his eyes briefly. "The possibility is small, but present. Gene scan and DNA testing technology exists on Beta Colony and in other parts of the galaxy. But not on Barrayar itself. And the chances of anyone ever daring to ask for such a test to be run on Serg's son are minuscule... but I can't say they don't exist at all."
"Let me rephrase that," Alys said, "Is there any way that Serg would find out?"
Illyan's eyes flickered open again, and Alys saw the steel in them. "I would die before I allow that," he said, with quiet vehemence.
"Then..." Alys said, "...as those who are bound by duty to preserve the future of the Imperium..." It was a crazy gamble, a possibly devastatingly stupid gamble, involving not just her, but the life of an innocent, and she knew that if she only stopped and thought about it, she would never pick up the courage to go through with it again. But the alternative was to continue treading a path she had already walked to death with no sight of success.
"Milady," Illyan said, worry creasing his brow, doubts warring within him. "I would do anything to protect you. But if – if something comes of this, and if the truth ever comes to light, the cost to the Imperium..."
Alys smiled, very sadly. "You speak as though it's a certainty. But the Imperium without an heir is in just as much danger..." As am I, she realised suddenly. Her time was limited; once Ezar passed, Serg would not hesitate to get rid of her if she continued to fail to produce the requisite heir. But the possibility of her own death only invoked a distant sense of curiosity, the thought of it held no fear for her. It was as though she had poured all her life into Barrayar's concerns, leaving nothing for herself.
And why not, she thought. Let her pass, let Serg take another wife, one who might give him the son he sought.
But what if, the thought continued, the problem is not with you, but with Serg himself, as you've long suspected?
You must beget an heir, Ezar had said. The very future of the Imperium depends on it.
And if the problem was with her, then nothing she did tonight would change the situation, and things would continue until she met any untimely end, and Serg remarried.
Illyan was still hesitating. "Surely there is some better way."
"Tell me one, Simon, for I can think of none." She stepped forward, placed a hand on his cheek. "If Barrayar were fair, it would be your blood, not the blood of Mad Emperor Yuri, that would flow through the veins of its princes. There's no doubt as to which would be better for Barrayar's future." She smiled sadly. "For my part, I know which I would prefer flowing through the veins of my child."
Illyan made no move to pull away. "You are... certain about this, Princess Alys." Alys didn't doubt that the use of her title was deliberate.
"I am," she said, and the words seemed to crystallise the resolve within her.
They must have quietened Illyan's doubts as well, for he bowed his head briefly, acknowledging. "Then indulge one last question, milady. Is this … only about duty?"
"Was your intervening to save me only about duty?" she replied.
Illyan breathed the smallest of sighs. "No." He bent his head; their lips met, and Alys allowed herself to melt into him.
Omg it's done! A shower right, then proof-reading and last minute clean ups, seeing that I ripped out a plot device half way and put in another, and and and. Done! Done!
(And because work habits are really hard to shake, I nearly hit Ctrl-P to print out a hard copy to proof)
ETA: And here it is.
I call it the postmortem because I usually feel dead after writing the fic. And omg do I feel dead this time. This has got to be the fastest fic I've ever written, including my Nano attempt last year. I had a month to do Nano. I did this sucker in about three to four days. In between a couple of my worst work weeks ever.
So, I was taking this break from the Vorkosigan fics after I blew my brain cells out on Aletheia, for Winterfair. And it's hard to top Aletheia. I was actually going to maybe make just a token appearance in the ficathon, but then there were SO MANY brilliant prompts this round, and this one snagged my attention straightaway and wouldn't let me go again. I finished the outline in one sitting.
I've been on a bit of a rich-boys-being-boys kick lately, thanks a new favourite character (Tora Igarashi) hitting all my buttons, and his appearance dragging Rufus Shinra of Final Fantasy 7 fame (and my oldest and most beloved muse) out of hiding. Granted, those two do it with a lot more style than Serg.
So anyway. I've been rather sympathetic to Serg ever since Philomytha's Serg/Aral, and I think some of that comes through here. Gregor's impressive and Ezar's impressive, there's no reason to believe why Serg wouldn't be either. Besides, a Serg who's handsome, charming, cunning, and a massive creep is far more interesting.
An interesting observation that I made halfway through. So, because Alys doesn't know Simon at the start of the fic, and the fic is from her PoV, I had him as 'Illyan' all the way through. Or that was the plan, anyway. Legal training is really hard to shake, and consistency in your defined terms is one of those things I shouldn't be able to run away from. Especially when I'm making an effort. Right? Right? Wrong.
In the later scenes, as Alys and Simon got progressively closer, I just kept slipping from 'Illyan' into 'Simon'. Over and over again. Despite my making a conscious effort not to. It'd slip at the most natural of places too - there's a scene where Alys walks into Simon's room, and he's 'Illyan' at first, because Alys is still maintaining that distance, that boundary, and then when she does't notice, and evidently when I don't notice either, suddenly the text is littered with 'Simon'. After painstakingly correcting this for like the millionth time, I decided - oh hey, let's just let it go. It's very clear that Alys' mental voice has switched to calling him Simon, it's perfectly natural in the circumstances, even I can't stop myself from doing it - ok let's do it. (Unbelievable struggle, believe me. I'm anal about internal consistency in my drafts.)
Until the very last moment, the plan was actually to have Gregor born to Simon and Alys. The first draft of the fic actually does have the scene written in where Alys convinces herself (and Simon) actually go through with it (and there's some back and forth discussion of whether it's a good idea, but overall, it happens because it's such a crazy idea that neither of them really talk about it or think it through - it was intended as a she moved; he moved, meeting her halfway kind of scene, something born on the spur of the moment and out of desperation). And Ezar would know, of course, and say nothing, and the ending would close with Alys feeling sad that Gregor would never know who his true father is, and Simon's "But we'll know, and that's good enough for me."
Good? I don't know. Writing the part about persuading Simon was downright difficult (the decision was driven by Alys), and it bothered me endlessly (another good reason to let your fics cook before posting). Simon didn't like it because it was too risky and the consequences were too great - if anyone ever found out, there would be hell to pay, even after Gregor ascended to the throne. Or campstool, anyway. Alys didn't like it because it was running away from her duty. So I fought with myself over it for a while and asked myself just why I wanted it (dramatic impact, maybe?) and then realised that I didn't need it - this is a story about love and duty, and that very struggle between temptation and duty fits right in.
I pass the test; I will diminish, go into the West, and remain Galadriel.
Thus decided, I went back, ripped it out, had to patch up a few things along the way after that (parallels were drawn between that desperate scheme and the desperation of the Escobar scheme), and was pleasantly surprised to find that it actually worked, and the epilogue (which was the only thing left unwritten when I pulled that scene), just wrote itself, and fit far better into the entire overall framework of the fic (duty, love, loyalty, choices).
Here's the deleted scene:
--
In response, Alys moved to kiss him.
The surprise on his face was almost comical, and she might have laughed, if she had any heart for it. She shushed the protests that were starting to grow on his lips instead. "In times of despair," she said, in the barest of whispers, "Desperate measures must prevail, for the good of the Imperium..."
He blinked, then the start of understanding lit his eyes. "Are you certain about this, milady?" he asked, deathly serious. "I'm not sure if it's a good--"
"You're the ImpSec officer," she returned, "What are the risks? Is there any way anyone would ever find out?"
Illyan closed his eyes briefly. "The possibility is small, but present. Gene scan and DNA testing technology exists on Beta Colony and in other parts of the galaxy. But not on Barrayar itself. And the chances of anyone ever daring to ask for such a test to be run on Serg's son are minuscule... but I can't say they don't exist at all."
"Let me rephrase that," Alys said, "Is there any way that Serg would find out?"
Illyan's eyes flickered open again, and Alys saw the steel in them. "I would die before I allow that," he said, with quiet vehemence.
"Then..." Alys said, "...as those who are bound by duty to preserve the future of the Imperium..." It was a crazy gamble, a possibly devastatingly stupid gamble, involving not just her, but the life of an innocent, and she knew that if she only stopped and thought about it, she would never pick up the courage to go through with it again. But the alternative was to continue treading a path she had already walked to death with no sight of success.
"Milady," Illyan said, worry creasing his brow, doubts warring within him. "I would do anything to protect you. But if – if something comes of this, and if the truth ever comes to light, the cost to the Imperium..."
Alys smiled, very sadly. "You speak as though it's a certainty. But the Imperium without an heir is in just as much danger..." As am I, she realised suddenly. Her time was limited; once Ezar passed, Serg would not hesitate to get rid of her if she continued to fail to produce the requisite heir. But the possibility of her own death only invoked a distant sense of curiosity, the thought of it held no fear for her. It was as though she had poured all her life into Barrayar's concerns, leaving nothing for herself.
And why not, she thought. Let her pass, let Serg take another wife, one who might give him the son he sought.
But what if, the thought continued, the problem is not with you, but with Serg himself, as you've long suspected?
You must beget an heir, Ezar had said. The very future of the Imperium depends on it.
And if the problem was with her, then nothing she did tonight would change the situation, and things would continue until she met any untimely end, and Serg remarried.
Illyan was still hesitating. "Surely there is some better way."
"Tell me one, Simon, for I can think of none." She stepped forward, placed a hand on his cheek. "If Barrayar were fair, it would be your blood, not the blood of Mad Emperor Yuri, that would flow through the veins of its princes. There's no doubt as to which would be better for Barrayar's future." She smiled sadly. "For my part, I know which I would prefer flowing through the veins of my child."
Illyan made no move to pull away. "You are... certain about this, Princess Alys." Alys didn't doubt that the use of her title was deliberate.
"I am," she said, and the words seemed to crystallise the resolve within her.
They must have quietened Illyan's doubts as well, for he bowed his head briefly, acknowledging. "Then indulge one last question, milady. Is this … only about duty?"
"Was your intervening to save me only about duty?" she replied.
Illyan breathed the smallest of sighs. "No." He bent his head; their lips met, and Alys allowed herself to melt into him.
