[But he doesn't rush to do so. Not out of sadism, a perverse desire to watch them both grow wary, but because this will be . . . difficult, perhaps, to adjust to. They'll balk, he's certain, and perhaps even protest— but it's for the best. He knows it is. He's spent years trying to think of how best to handle this, and every other solution only breeds more problems.
There's no real way to do this delicately, you know. Sometimes you have to simply rip the bandage off and deal with the sting in the aftermath. And so though he's loathe to shatter this moment of tranquility, he says simply:]
It's both of you.
[His words come swiftly, though he can already feel shock rippling through both their slender frames.]
Both of you will rule jointly in my place, for as long as I am asleep. You will be a united front— and you will have to be united, at least in public, for there are too many who will leap on any hint of disagreement between you. I will elevate you both, and you will have equal power— and I expect it to stay that way.
[No usurpation. No civil wars a century down the line, when impulse and instinct might overwhelm good sense.]
Which is why I intend for you two to be joined together.
[It's not marriage. It's not. That's a very mortal concept, not unheard of but not often used among their ilk. Instead: it's something decidedly more vampiric. A symbolic joining, heavier and with far more weight than a mere marriage— for it's such an unnatural thing, vampires sharing power. They do not tolerate rivals, potential or otherwise; they certainly don't take partners, not when consorts are so much easier.
So it has weight, a vow like this. A promise unlike any other, set in stone and marked in blood— oh, there's a whole ceremony, but in the end they'll be united, the two of them. Bound to care and protect one another, not because their sire is around to ensure it, but because to turn on one another will ensure their own ruin. What vampire, after all, wouldn't take advantage of such a delicious opening? When two partners squabble and fight among themselves, oh, a throne is so easily stolen . . . no, they'll have to work together, at least in public.
And eventually, Vakares hopes, they will unite in love. But one thing at a time.]
no subject
[But he doesn't rush to do so. Not out of sadism, a perverse desire to watch them both grow wary, but because this will be . . . difficult, perhaps, to adjust to. They'll balk, he's certain, and perhaps even protest— but it's for the best. He knows it is. He's spent years trying to think of how best to handle this, and every other solution only breeds more problems.
There's no real way to do this delicately, you know. Sometimes you have to simply rip the bandage off and deal with the sting in the aftermath. And so though he's loathe to shatter this moment of tranquility, he says simply:]
It's both of you.
[His words come swiftly, though he can already feel shock rippling through both their slender frames.]
Both of you will rule jointly in my place, for as long as I am asleep. You will be a united front— and you will have to be united, at least in public, for there are too many who will leap on any hint of disagreement between you. I will elevate you both, and you will have equal power— and I expect it to stay that way.
[No usurpation. No civil wars a century down the line, when impulse and instinct might overwhelm good sense.]
Which is why I intend for you two to be joined together.
[It's not marriage. It's not. That's a very mortal concept, not unheard of but not often used among their ilk. Instead: it's something decidedly more vampiric. A symbolic joining, heavier and with far more weight than a mere marriage— for it's such an unnatural thing, vampires sharing power. They do not tolerate rivals, potential or otherwise; they certainly don't take partners, not when consorts are so much easier.
So it has weight, a vow like this. A promise unlike any other, set in stone and marked in blood— oh, there's a whole ceremony, but in the end they'll be united, the two of them. Bound to care and protect one another, not because their sire is around to ensure it, but because to turn on one another will ensure their own ruin. What vampire, after all, wouldn't take advantage of such a delicious opening? When two partners squabble and fight among themselves, oh, a throne is so easily stolen . . . no, they'll have to work together, at least in public.
And eventually, Vakares hopes, they will unite in love. But one thing at a time.]