Not many people are willing to get up before dawn just to see this amazing sight; some days she has the place all to herself. But this morning there is someone else there.

The clothes he's wearing say 'rich'; the careless way he's lounging on the grass in them says 'very rich'. That delicate silver-blue silk is going to take magic to clean, if it can be cleaned at all. He is sprawled comfortably on the grassy slope that separates the outermost path from the rest of the garden, hands tucked behind his head, watching the dawn with a lazy smile.

Ooh probably the smart thing to do would be to leave him alone.

On the other hand, she doesn't recognize him, so he certainly won't have any idea who she is...

She is careful to be silent as she spends a few minutes gathering fallen flower petals in her outer skirt.

And then she creeps up behind him and throws them into the air right above him.

He makes a startled noise, and then giggles delightedly amid the rain of petals.

She giggles too. "Hi!"

He beams up at her, picking flower petals from his hair. "Good morning."

"Good morning! I've never seen you here before."

"I felt like watching the sunrise today."

"It's glorious. Most people don't know what they're missing, I think. I come here every morning and I often have the place to myself."

"I'm definitely glad I followed this particular whim!"

He is not at all looking at the sunrise when he says that.

"Whimsy is so rewarding," she giggles, brushing a few clinging flower petals from her skirt.

There's that grin of his again. He has a pretty good grin.

He reaches up and picks a stray petal off her hemline.

He does have a pretty good grin. "Any reason this whim struck today in particular, or is it true random whimsy?"

He shrugs. "Today happened to be the day I remembered that it's been a while since I came here."

"Fair enough!"

"And you? What random whim led you to dump a skirtful of petals on some poor stranger's head?"

"You were lying right there! And rich people rarely notice the help, so if I don't know who you are--and I don't--then the odds that you know who I am are slim to none, so I could get away with it."

"I know some people who'd have leapt up and thrown you over the edge," he says, gesturing down at the railing and past it at the long, long drop to the ocean below. "But, luckily for you, I thought it was great fun."

"I'm faster than I look! If you'd started to leap up I would have bolted."

"I guess we'll never know how that would've turned out."

He's still holding the petal he picked off her skirt. He holds it in front of his face and turns it over, looking at it thoughtfully; then he rolls onto his side (ruining his expensive clothing a little further), pokes the petal into the ground, and cups his hands over it. A few seconds pass before a little green shoot pokes out between his fingers; it goes much faster after that, and in hardly another handful of seconds he's picking a full-grown flower and holding it up to her.

She beams delightedly and accepts it.

Awwwww. He beams right back.

She pulls a hair-ribbon out of a pocket and starts braiding the flower into her hair.

He giggles.

"Well, you've made my morning much happier than I was expecting."

"I'm glad!"

He smiles up at her with much the same look he was giving the sunrise.

She smiles back and sits down beside him.

He considers, and then scoots closer and rests his head in her lap. Another petal gets caught in his hair.

Aww. She pets his hair.

He sighs contentedly and closes his eyes.

"You're ridiculously adorable," she informs him.

He giggles. "Thank you! What can I say, you bring it out in me."

Aww. Pet pet.

He rubs his cheek on her thigh like an affectionate cat.

Oh no it's too cute.

Mmmmmmm, cozy.

He doesn't have anywhere to be.

Sadly, she does.

Eventually she says, "Alas, I need to leave now if I want to avoid being late for work."

"Can't have that."

He pats her knee, stands up, and offers her a hand to help her to her feet.

She accepts it. "Thank you for a lovely morning."

He helps her up.

"It was a pleasure," he says, and kisses her hand before letting go.

And she goes off to work and is lightly and goodheartedly teased for the flower and does the shopping on the way home and makes dinner and listens to her sister's chattering about music school.

She continues walking through the gardens to work in the mornings.

Not the next day, but three days later, the rich stranger is back. This time he's wearing mostly white, with a long sage-green coat drawn close against the chilly nibbles of the early spring breeze. And lying on the grass in the same spot as before, much to the dismay of that poor coat.

This time the first sign of her is her voice. "I really hope you can magic those clothes clean."

He laughs. "Eh, they're just clothes."

"Spoken like a true rich guy. Someone put time and effort into those, you know."

"I know, I know. And they're lovely. I promise you, I never take beauty for granted."

"Good." She sits down beside him.

He puts his head in her lap again and smiles dreamily up at her.

"You are very very cute," she says, petting his hair and watching the sunrise.

"So're you." Nuzzle.

"I'm glad you think so!" Pet pet. "I must really be something special if I can drag you out of bed at this hour when this sunrise can't."

"I've seen a lot of sunrises. None of them has ever flung flower petals over me."

She giggles. "How negligent of them."

He closes his eyes and resettles slightly and pets her knee.

Pet pet. "You are delightfully charmed by the whole flower petal business."

"It was delightfully charming!"

"Perhaps I will have to arrange a repeat performance."

"I'm definitely going to end up coming back here again."

"Good." Pet pet.

Snuggle snuggle.

Contented sunrise-watching.

Contented lap-snuggles. He watches the sunrise through half-open eyes, but he is definitely here for the lap and the petting, not the view.

She continues petting him until she needs to leave for work and then bends down and gives him a brief peck on the forehead before nudging his head out of her lap so she can stand up and go.

Awwwwww. He sprawls on the grass and beams up at her.

"See you later!" she calls, and walks off.

She's so cute!!!!

Anonymous positive interactions with strangers always end in the same terrified realization, unless he stops trying before then; but he thinks he can keep this one going for a while before the inevitable collapse. He shows up again a few days later.

She flops down on the grass beside him and hugs him with no preamble.

...he hugs back, gently. "What's wrong?"

"I wish I knew. Dad's been really stressed out, the past few days--he says it's nothing, but none of us believe him.'

He pets her hair. "I hope it's nothing serious."

(Whatever the problem is, he can almost certainly fix it - but if he reveals that, he loses her. She might not even want his help, if she knew who it was coming from.)

Snuggle. "So do I."

Snuggle. Pet pet.

('If you need anything' - no, he can't even offer. She'd regret it as soon as she accepted, and there would go these lovely sunrises.)

She snuggles in closer than is entirely reputable, the need for comfort overriding propriety.

Yeah.

He holds her and pets her and does not seem to care one bit about how improper it is to be cuddling a poor girl whose name he doesn't know on the ground in a public park with grass stains all over his lovely clothes.

Eventually she sighs. "I should go."

He hugs her and kisses her on the cheek and then lets go. "Yeah. Good luck."

She sighs and gets up and leaves.

He watches her leave.

(If he could just - but it never ends well, when someone finds out they've been talking to the Emperor.)

She isn't there the next time he shows up.

It - could be nothing...

Yeah no it's going to bother him until he knows for sure.

He goes to the spot where they first met, and touches the flower he grew for her, and closes his eyes and looks for where the rest of it has gotten to. The simplest thing to try, although it'll only work if she kept the flower.

The flower is braided into her hair again.

The rest of the scene is...not nothing.

She's sitting in the back room of an auction facility, wearing manacles.

...ah, fuck.

He widens his view until he can see which part of the city she's in.

...he could just - not interfere. Let her go on with her life never knowing who she was cuddling in the eastern gardens.

But, as he well knows, legal protections for slaves in his empire are shit. She might genuinely be better off with him at this point, though she's very unlikely to see it that way.

He spies on the auction house's schedule. He considers sending a servant to buy her, or just showing up and confiscating her, but - he wants to be able to look her in the eye one more time before she finds out.

So when she goes up for auction, he's there, in his (pristine) sage-green coat.

She comes out looking scared but determined. She looks out over the crowd--

and her eyes land on him, and widen, and she meets his eyes with an expression of bare pleading.

...oh, that hurts. He winces slightly, breaking eye contact, but then looks at her again and nods.

She relaxes slightly and gives him a small, grateful smile.

One of the other bidders - he recognizes him by sight but can't place the name - is a known collector of redheads. He makes the opening bid for the girl with the flower in her hair. It's high but not outrageous.

Solekaran doubles it.

The collector makes a startled choking noise.

...It would be so inappropriate to giggle right now. She does not. Even if she's really tempted.

The collector, hesitantly, raises by half his original price.

Solekaran doubles him again.

No one else in the room wants this girl badly enough to part with the price of a modestly sized house in a good part of town. The auctioneer calls perfunctorily for further bids, is unsurprised not to get any, and sends her over to the scribe with his enchanted brush.

Solekaran gets up and comes down to collect her, looking... well, sad and withdrawn.

"...Are you okay?" she asks quietly.

He can't seem to meet her eyes.

"Ah, begging your pardon, sir, but whose mark...?" asks the scribe, picking up his brush and reaching for Lyrame's arm.

"Imperial," he says.

The scribe flinches.

Oh.

Well, that.

Um.

The Emperor waits patiently for the scribe to recover. It's only a few seconds, and then he holds the brush firmly and draws the Imperial seal on Lyrame's forearms, one and then the other, right above where the manacles circle her wrists. The ink glistens as it sinks into her skin, anchored indelibly there by magic.

"There you are, majesty," he says, ducking his head nervously.

"Thank you," says Solekaran. He flicks his fingers at her chains, and they unlock themselves and fall away.

"I--

I--

I--"

She looks at his face again.

She thinks.

"...Thank you.'

...he smiles slightly, the smile of someone who doesn't quite feel secure enough to be relieved, and gestures for her to follow him.

She follows him.

As soon as they step into the empty corridor outside the auction hall, he makes a gesture like he's brushing away cobwebs and the air in front of them opens up into a shimmering portal. He steps through.

She hesitates before stepping through after him.

The room on the other side is... Imperial.

Emperor Solekaran created this island from scratch with magic, palace and all. The walls and floor and ceiling are all of a piece, and it's a beautiful piece, a pale glimmering cloud-white stone with faint grey patterns not quite exactly like marble. The lights are magical, of the highest quality; he probably made them himself. Likewise the furniture - it's some sort of sitting room, and everything is sleek and plush and gorgeous and obviously exquisitely comfortable.

He plops himself down onto a lovely soft couch and looks up at her with a... somewhat mixed expression. Hesitant, regretful, affectionate, wry...

...maybe a little appreciative.

She considers this, and then sits down beside him and hugs him.

"So. The thing my father was worried about. Kind of turned out to be a big deal."

He goes briefly still with surprise, and then wraps his arms around her and scoops her into his lap for a proper cuddle.

"I noticed," he says wryly. "I went to the garden and you weren't there, so I followed the flower." He kisses her hair, just behind the fading blossom; it perks up at the touch of his breath.

"I'm glad I decided to wear it, then."

Hug. "I'm—"

"—you're taking this very well."

"...If...if I'm screwed, I'm screwed either way. If I'm not screwed, acting like I am could conceivably hurt."

...he laughs softly. "Can't fault your logic, I guess."

"And you could have hurt me at any time and you didn't. I mean, you're--you're the Emperor--you could hurt anyone at any time. But anyone could have hurt me in the situation we were in, all alone in those gardens. And you didn't. You were so nice."

"I like... going out alone sometimes and just - not being the Emperor for a while. It's why my face isn't widely known, I don't put it on the coins anymore, everything's the Imperial starburst - because that way it's easier, I don't have to mess around with illusions or any nonsense like that, as long as I'm not around people who know me I'm just... some rich guy. This isn't the first time I've talked to somebody that way - isn't the first time I've flirted with somebody, either - and when they find out it always ruins it. And they do always find out, if I keep coming back."

Snuggle.

"Yesterday morning I was hoping very badly that--that you would show up, so I--I could say goodbye. I thought--whoever bought me, wouldn't let me--that you'd never know what happened to me, that I'd never see the sunrise from those gardens again--"

Her voice cracks. Tears start running down her cheeks.

He holds her and kisses the top of her head.

"Please be real," she whispers, crying more freely now. "Please, please, let this not be a stupid fantasy about a stranger I met three times, please, I, I--"

He gently pets her hair.

"I'm - the same person you met in the gardens," he murmurs. "Everything I did there was real. I really do like you. That morning with the flower petals was the purest joy I've felt in a long time."

She cries harder, wordlessly, clinging to him.

He holds her. He pets her. He does not hurt her.

—the crying is having... effects, which she is in a position to notice.

She sobs herself out on him.

Then she notices.

"...Um."

...he loosens his hold on her, enough that she would not be impeded in moving away if she wanted to do that.

...She scoots a little farther away but does not stop hugging him. She raises an eyebrow.

"...I enjoy having a beautiful woman weeping helplessly in my lap."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm the same person you met in the garden but I am also the same person you've heard all those horrifying rumours about. I don't actually know what horrifying rumours are circulating about me these days. I think the last thing I did that made me wish for better impulse control was throw a member of my administrative staff off the roof of the palace a couple of years ago, do they still talk about that one?"

"Yyyyyes. Um. Speaking of horrifying rumors. I. Um. Please pretend I found a more diplomatic way of saying this than 'please don't torture me'?"

"I don't think I'm going to torture you."

"Okay I was honestly expecting a slightly less ominous answer than that."

...he half-smiles. "One complaint you'll never hear about me is 'misleading, treacherous, dishonest'. I like you and I care about you and I don't want you hurt, but - I'd need to be surer than that before I started making promises."

"Okay." Snuggle. "This is still better than--I can reasonably expect to be able to, to ask you for things like going to see the sunrise in the east gardens or visiting my family..."

He hugs her, careful not to pull her close enough that she has to interact with the effects of her crying fit. "Yeah. I - if I hadn't expected you to be better off with me, I would've left you alone."

Nod. Snuggle. "Thank you," she repeats. "I was--prepared to go through with it, but..." She shakes her head. "Better me than them. But. This is better."

Snuggle. Pet pet pet.

"I have a brother and a sister," she explains. "It had to be one of us, and--my sister has a scholarship to study music, she's brilliant, I couldn't let her give that up. And my brother--he's stronger than he is smart or handsome, he'd end up being used for hard labor. I couldn't let that happen to him."

He nods.

"I know the man I outbid for you," he mentions. "I'm not sure if you want to know - what your alternative was."

"Oh, now you've got me morbidly curious, go on."

"He has a type. Pretty girls with red hair. He buys them up and - I'd almost say 'decorates with them' - dresses them in pretty clothes that show their slave-marks and just sort of has them around his house. And rapes them, obviously, and has them beaten if they annoy him, but he pays the best healers so they'll stay pretty afterward. I imagine their main complaints are mostly the rape and the beatings, but the thing that struck me the first time I went to one of his parties was how boring their lives must be - some of them dance or sing or play instruments, but the ones without a suitably decorative skill just have to stand around looking attractive whenever he's not using them."

"From the way you asked if I wanted to know I was expecting worse!"

"There's no household in the empire that's a worse place to be a pleasure-slave than mine. But I didn't buy you for that. I bought you because I don't want you getting hurt the way you would out there, and because you asked me to even if you didn't exactly know what you were asking for, and - because I don't want anyone else to own you."

Snuggle. "That's really sweet! In a slightly creepy way!"

...he laughs. He pets her hair.

"I really really do appreciate it though," she says. "I mean, there is still a part of my brain that's gibbering in terror over the bit where you're the Emperor, but it doesn't have much in the way of credibility with the rest of me."

"Aww," he says. "Seems like a waste, you being terrified where I can't even see it."

"Sorry." Snuggle.

Snuggle. More hairpets. Maybe a nuzzle or two.

"You know, I don't even know your name."

"It's Lyrame."

"Pretty."

Snuggle. "I know. I'm the pretty one."

"You're lovely."

...he's thinking about her crying on him again.

She catches the look on his face and ducks her head and blushes.

...aww. He kisses her on the cheek.

She beams at him.

"...I really want to fuck you right now."

"...Oh."

She swallows.

She starts unbuttoning her blouse. Her hands are trembling slightly.

...he catches one of her hands and squeezes it gently. "I don't - that wasn't an order."

"Oh."

She hugs him again. A little more tightly this time.

"I--thank you."

He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead.

She snuggles him and looks sort of like she wants to start crying again but doesn't want to turn him on some more.

Snuggles. Hairpetting.

"It's what I thought I was signing up for."

"I... don't want you hurt. I don't want..." He sighs. He hugs her. "I want to be able to lie in the grass with my head in your lap and watch the sunrise together. Without - without you being afraid of me. This is the closest I've ever come to... not immediately losing something like that, when the person involved finds out who I am."

Snuggle.

"I want that too," she murmurs. "It was--one of the things I was thinking, when I--asked you not to be a fantasy. That if I never got to sit petting your hair with your head in my lap again that would be--something to grieve."

He nudges her toward the end of the couch and curls up and puts his head in her lap.

...She smiles down at him and pets his hair.

He sighs softly.

It's... not really the same, but... it's still nice. This is a good thing to have.

(and she's so pretty when she cries, he wants her, but - sex slaves and sunrises are plentiful; this is rare.)

Right now she's not really looking at him differently than she did before she found out. Same soft contented smile.

Aw. He smiles back up at her.

(his his his - he can have whatever he wants and he wants her crying in his lap again, wants to fuck her while she falls apart - but he also wants what they're doing right now, and he cannot have both these things.)

She continues to pet his hair happily, oblivious to his internal conflict.

He closes his eyes and hugs her knee and does not do anything regrettable.

Eventually her stomach growls. Rather loudly.

He waves a hand vaguely without even opening his eyes, and a little round table sprouts out of the floor, growing like a highly motivated and unusually shaped tree; when it reaches the right height and flattens out, little green twigs sprout up from the pale wood of the tabletop and bloom into enormous flowers, and each of those when it opens contains a plate of delicious-looking food.

She is startled into stopping petting his hair for a moment, then giggles and beams and resumes while eating one-handed.

He nuzzles her leg, cozily.

"They did not feed me this morning," she sniffs disdainfully. "Unprofessional."

Snort.

She finishes eating. She continues petting his hair for a while, then pauses, makes a thoughtful noise, and gently extracts herself, only to lie down beside him and snuggle up.

The couch is more than roomy enough to support this ambition. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek. (The table, dishes and leftovers and all, withers and crumbles away to nothing; the place where its roots sank into the floor ripples and smooths over.)

Snuggle.

"I don't want--losing all your friends when they find out who you really are sounds awful. I don't want to do that to you."

...he cuddles her.

"Well. Thank you for that. It's - I can't really argue that it's not my fault, though, you know?"

"I know. But if you hadn't rescued me I would never have found out, and--penalizing my finding out seems like bad incentive."

Snuggle.

"I was so scared."

He pets her hair and kisses her forehead.

She gives a contented sigh and a snuggly little wriggle and kisses him on the cheek and closes her eyes and takes a nap. She didn't get a lot of sleep, the night previous.

He holds her while she sleeps.

He has long since stopped picking random people off the street and taking them home to play with. It terrifies everyone to a degree that's just not worth it in the long run. If he wants a new toy he can buy one like anybody else. But he owns her now, and he wants her, and - holding back is starting to feel uncomfortably like mercy.

A few hours later she yawns adorably and snuggles closer and opens her eyes and has a moment of startled stillness before her expression melts into one of sleepy affection.

...he hugs her, smiling softly.

"Thought you were my brother for a moment," she mumbles. "Don't think I've ever fallen asleep cuddling someone I wasn't related to before."

...giggle.

"--Shit. Speaking of my family--when do the public records of these things become available?"

"After a few days, usually. Sooner if you know where to look."

"Okay. Good. My family won't know where to look. I would really appreciate it if I could visit them before then and reassure them I'm okay and can visit them sometimes and ask them to please not look up who bought me. Probably I will have to make up an excuse as to why. But it would be very useful in preventing my brother from doing something stupid if none of them knew until I had a track record of being not traumatized."

"Okay."

"Thank you." Happy cuddles!

Snuggle.

"I don't think he'd be reckless enough to try to do anything stupid at you, but hunting down and assaulting father's ex-business partner who ran off with the money and left Dad holding the debts? Yeah."

...snort. "So that's what happened, mm?"

"Yeah."

He pets her hair.

"—I—when you said your father seemed stressed, I thought - 'I can almost certainly fix it, whatever it is, but I can't say that'..."

Snort. "Well, that would have been more convenient in every way possible. But I can see why you'd be reluctant." Snuggle.

"...if you want - more money for your family, or something... there's nothing stopping me from offering you Imperial help now."

Snuggle. "That would...probably be good."

"Though there's not a lot I can do without being, well, Imperially worrying - I assume they'd figure out something funny was going on if I threw your dad's ex-partner off a roof."

She laughs.

"Please don't do that. If he dies the money goes to his next of kin and we have no chance of getting it back."

He chuckles. "Okay, I won't."

"--Do you want to meet them? Without telling them who you are, at least to start, or ideally that you're the one who bought me--but I told them about flirting with a rich guy in the garden, I could say you--made sure I'd been placed somewhere tolerable, or something."

"Why not tell them I'm the one who bought you, if they know you were flirting with me already?"

"Because if we do my brother will draw the correct conclusion that you bought me because you'd been flirting with me and the incorrect conclusion that this meant you were taking advantage of me, and if he believed this without knowing who you really are he might punch you in the face."

He laughs. "And would they find it reassuring if he did that and didn't suffer for it?"

"...Probably."

"Well then."

Giggle. Snuggle. "Well, if you're okay with getting punched!"

"It's not like he's going to hurt me. Takes a lot more than a punch to even get annoying."

"Fair enough."

Snuggle. "When's a good time to visit your family?"

"After my brother gets off work and my sister gets home from school, I guess--what time is it?"

"Nearing sunset."

"Oh, gosh, I did sleep a while, didn't I--but everyone's probably home by now."

He pets her hair. "Let me get you some clothes that hide your slave-marks," he says, and another magical plant grows out of the floor, this time spilling a gorgeous glittering silk dress from its single huge blossom.

"Holy crap."

"Now you see why I don't care about grass stains!"

"Yes, yes I do. Wow." She picks up the dress carefully and examines it like she's not quite sure it's safe to touch something this nice.

The ends of the sleeves and the hem of the long flowing skirt are a deep forest green, the collar and shoulders a pale sage like his coat, and it fades out in between in a long slow gradient. Tiny emeralds dot the silk, denser in the darker places, running in long curves and graceful swirls up to the paler parts, where they grow sparser and are eventually intermingled with diamonds. The design is - organic; it looks like the sort of dress that might grow on a tree. Flowing curving patterns with subtle well-balanced asymmetries.

He giggles delightedly at the look she's giving it.

"I'm not sure I can convince my brother you're not fucking me if I walk in wearing this dress."

"Really? It's hardly a very fuckable dress!"

This is true; it's beautiful without being overtly sexual, modest without being stifling.

"But all right, I'll make you a less ostentatious version—" and the first flower gives up its prize and withers away, and another one grows in its place. The second dress is made in the image of the first, but blue-and-blue instead of green-and-green, with the gems replaced by little glass beads.

"It's not that it's an eminently fuckable dress, it's that why would you give me something this nice off four days' acquaintance if you weren't."

"Because I have absolutely stupid amounts of money, and can spend two days a week ruining my best clothes in the east gardens for no reason other than that I felt like lying in the grass to watch the sunrise?"

"In our experience, rich people are a lot more willing to waste money than to give it to poor people."

Snort. "Well, fair. Does the second one work or do I need to tone it down even further?"

"The second one probably works," she says, and kisses him on the cheek.

"Oh good."

...She glances around to see if there is anywhere obvious to change in relative privacy.

There's a half-open door to a bedroom over there, she could try that.

"...There isn't anyone in there, is there?" she asks, nodding to the door.

He laughs. "No, go on."

She ducks inside and changes and comes out and twirls.

"You look stunning," he says, getting up off the couch to pick her up and spin her around and kiss her forehead and put her down again.

She giggles and kisses him on the cheek.

"Let's go meet your family."

He opens a portal in the air, and they step through into the east gardens.

She grins and steps through. These gardens aren't nearly as wonderful when the sun is setting as when it's rising--but still.

She leads him cheerfully to a part of town that's not particularly nice, but not generally unsafe.

They look kind of out of place there, in their gorgeous clothes.

They really do. Oh well.

She leads him to a cute little two-story house and knocks on the door.

There is a slightly lengthy pause, and then the sound of footsteps, and a young female voice asks, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Sissy."

There is a pause, and then the door flies open and she is tackled by a gangly fifteen-year old with black hair who seems intent on hugging her as hard as physically possible.

Lyrame hugs her back and smoothes her hair down gently. "It's okay, I'm okay," she says soothingly, and then to her companion--"This is my sister Elcisse."

"Nice to meet you," he says, cheerfully.

"...Hi," Elcisse says hesitantly. And to her sister: "Who's this?"

"This is--my friend from the garden. The one who gave me the flower. ...Also the one who bought me. I asked to visit and he said yes."

"...Oh. Is it--"

"It's not just a one-time thing, I can't come home but I'm fine and you haven't lost me, it's going to be a change and I need you to be brave about it but we're okay, Sissy."

Elcisse gives another quiet sob, this time out of relief.

Aww.

There is a sound of boot-shod feet coming down the stairs.

"Who's at the door?" a voice from the stairward direction asks. It sounds young, masculine, and angry, although more as a general undercurrent than in a way suggesting he's angry at Elcisse.

"Liri's here!" Elcisse calls.

There is another pause, and then the clattering of a hasty descent down the remaining steps, and then a young man, black-haired like Elcisse, comes into view.

He looks at Lyrame, looks at the mans she's with, puts two and two together and punches him in the jaw. He's very strong. The Emperor being the Emperor, he's not going to be hurt by it, but unless he's specifically doing something to prevent it, he's probably going to go sprawling backwards.

"ALEMAR!" Lyrame exclaims.

And now the Emperor is sitting on the ground, holding his face and giggling.

"Is that how you normally say hello?" he inquires.

"Alemar. No. Apologize."

"But--"

"Fuck's sake, this is my friend from the garden, he bought me because I all but begged him to with my eyes, he hasn't fucking raped me, I've spent most of the day so far either crying on him or asleep because I sure as hell couldn't sleep much last night!"

"..."

"Alemar. This is the best thing that could have possibly happened, once that sonuva bitch ran off. I am fine, and you will apologize."

"...Sorry," he says. He does not sound as sincere as he possibly could. Lyrame sighs and accepts it.

He gets to his feet and brushes dirt from his coat. It doesn't all come off. He laughs again.

"How long can you stay?" Alemar asks.

...She glances at Solekaran.

(Alemar's eyes narrow slightly.)

"How long would you like to?"

She hesitates, and meets Alemar's eyes. The two of them have a moment of wordless sibling communication and she says, "Well, I think we should at least stay for dinner."

"Sure."

"Oh--I cooked, it's still in the oven--it won't be as good as yours, but--" Elcisse says.

"I'm sure it'll be great. I'm proud of you," Lyrame says.

"Yeah--I should get Dad. Dad! Dad!" she calls, dashing back into the house.

"You two might as well come in," Alemar says.

"Thank you."

Lyrame leads the way in and sits down on one end of a squashy couch.

- he glances at Alemar, in case Alemar would like to claim the spot next to his sister.

Alemar watches him thoughtfully and does not move to sit down anywhere.

"Something to say?"

"Not really. Not that would be wise, anyway."

"Eh, fair enough."

He sits on the couch, next to Lyrame but with enough space between them that she would have to move closer if she wanted a hug.

And Elcisse comes back, helping a middle-aged man who looks like the past few days really took a toll on his health. It may, at first glance, be difficult to tell that he still is only middle aged. His face sags in relief when he sees Lyrame. She gets up to hug him and help Elcisse get him to his chair.

"I'm so glad you're alright," he breathes.

...aww.

"I'm fine, Dad," she says. Her father hugs her very tightly before releasing her, and she goes back to take her seat on the couch.

"Thank you," he says to Solekaran, after a long moment of just studying his daughter's face as though he needed proof that she was really alright and there.

He smiles wryly.

"I failed her. Utterly. It's a parent's job to take care of their children, and--" he shakes his head. "Thank you."

"Sounds like somebody failed you, more like."

"It still should have been me who suffered for it, not her."

"I think I prefer the outcome where neither of you suffers," he says, with a fond glance at Lyrame.

Okay now she will scoot over and hug him.

"Still," her father says, shaking his head.

Hug.

"Are you all right?" he asks her father. "You look..." He can't seem to think of a word.

"I'm alright," he says.

"No you're not!" Elcisse scolds.

"Hm."

"We're not sure exactly what's wrong with him, but his health's been deteriorating badly since we found out," Lyrame murmurs.

"Sorry to hear that," he says, hugging her some more and resting his cheek against her hair.

"I'll be fine," the man insists. His children all give him exasperated looks.

He laughs softly.

"I should go check on dinner," Elcisse says. She gets up and does that.

"So, ah..." the father seems to be casting about for a conversational topic. "What was his name again, Lyrame?"

"...I didn't say. He, um. Never mentioned it to me either."

Alemar snorts.

...he giggles.

"Sekar."

"It just didn't come up!" Lyrame says defensively.

"Sure, sure," Alemar says.

"Really."

"I didn't say anything."

"Alemar."

Awwwwwwwwww. He laughs some more.

"Only child?" her father guesses.

"Yeah."

"I can't even imagine what that must be like. I mean, technically I used to be, but I was, like, one, when Alemar was born, I super don't remember it."

"And I'm sure I have no idea what it's like to have siblings."

"They drive you up the wall but it's so worth it."

Giggle.

"And Mom died a little more than ten years ago."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

Snuggly hug. "Sissy was four. I was nine. Alemar was eight. The two of us remember her. Sissy--mostly doesn't."

So much hug.

(he could fix that - but that's not an offer he can make in her family's living room; not many people even know that he can do resurrection, and it's certainly not within the reach of any lesser power.)

"So what's your family like, besides no siblings?" Alemar asks after a moment.

"My mother died when I was a kid, young enough I never knew her to miss her. Caught the wrong side of somebody's ambition. My father when I was a teenager, same cause. We didn't get along well when he was alive, but - I wish I'd had the time to understand him better."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the father says sympathetically. "My father and I were similar--well, he died in an accident on the docks, but in the sense that we never saw eye-to-eye when he was alive." He sighs. "And now it's too late."

"Yeah."

She hugs him harder, closing her eyes and turning her face into him so Alemar won't see the look on her face.

After all, she's the only person in the room besides "Sekar" who knows whose ambition his father caught the wrong side of.

Hugs.

Elcisse comes back in. "...Uh, what'd I miss?"

"Talking about everyone's dead relatives," Alemar supplies. "Oh, and he," he jerks his head at the relevant individual, "apparently has a name: It's Sekar."

"What dead relatives does he have?" she asks.

"Both parents, apparently."

"...That sucks. I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"I wish I could remember Mom better," she sighs, flopping down on the couch on the opposite side of him from her sister.

He nods. He squeezes Lyrame.

(He's going to offer as soon as they're not right in front of her family.)

She squeezes back.

"Anyway, dinner's not ready yet but it won't be long. Sekar, you're a guest, Dad, you're not well, and Liri--anyway. Alle, I cooked, you set the table," Elcisse declares.

Aww. Lyrame's family is cute.

"My anyway doesn't mean I'm not allowed to cook, if I visit early enough in the day, right?"

"No, of course not, do you think I have the strength of will to deny myself your cooking?" Elcisse asks, and then she half-flops across Sekar's lap to hug her sister.

Sekar giggles, and tries to get out of her way as much as possible given the absence of any escape routes whatsoever.

Alemar laughs and ruffles Elcisse's hair as he passes by to go set the table.

"You know, Sekar hasn't heard you play yet," Lyrame muses.

"That is true," Elcisse says, looking up speculatively at him from her somewhat sprawled hugging position.

"Lyrame mentioned you're musical but I don't think I know what you play."

"I play the flute," she says.

"Oh, pretty."

"I could play something after dinner," she says.

"That'd be nice."

"Okay." She snuggles her sister some more. Her sister snuggles back, then hoists her a bit so she's not sprawled across Sekar's lap anymore.

He pets Lyrame's hair once and then scoots away a little to give them room.

Lyrame rearranges the two of them so Sekar can hug her from one side and Elcisse from the other.

This is good. Sekar approves.

Their father chuckles.

"Wait, has anyone mentioned Dad's name yet," wonders Elcisse.

He laughs. "They have not!"

"It's Endevar."

"And now everybody knows everybody." He pets Lyrame again.

She giggles.

He smiles adoringly at her.

Alemar comes back from setting the table and raises an eyebrow at the two of them.

Sekar catches the look and laughs.

He shakes his head. "Table's set."

"Oh, then I should check on the food again," Elcisse says, and gets up to do that.

Sekar smiles adoringly at Lyrame again.

She snuggles a little closer, now that there is no lapsister to worry about.

Awwww. He tucks his arm around her shoulders and rests his cheek on top of her head again.

"...I'm really glad you're okay," Alemar says quietly.

"Me too, trust me," Lyrame says.

Elcisse comes back in and announces that food's ready. Lyrame pecks Sekar on the cheek and stands up.

—aw. He stands up too, smiling his adoring smile.

Here is table! Here is food! It is reasonably tasty food.

"So," Alemar says, "we return to the question of what to do with the abhorred one."

—Sekar giggles.

"Well, Lyrame already made me promise not to murder him."

"Well, duh, then his relatives get to keep our money."

"That was my rationale also," she nods.

"Yeah, taking all his money and then murdering him would require some finesse."

Solemn nodding.

"Most of the problem is that we can't afford a lawyer right now," Alemar says.

"How much does he even owe you, I probably spend more on laundry in a month," he says. "Would it simplify your lives any if I just gave you a lot of money."

There is a slightly stunned pause. "Well. Yes," Endevar says.

"I'll do that then."

"...Thank you," he says, a little stunned. Alemar studies him and Lyrame thoughtfully.

He smiles at Lyrame.

She smiles back at him.

Aww.

"Are we still going to try to Do A Vengeance?" Elcisse asks.

"Well, it's probably not a good idea to let people see him getting away with it," Alemar says.

"Generally isn't," Sekar agrees.

"Well, extralegal revenge won't do anything there, 'man makes off with money and dies of unrelated accident a few days later' is...not necessarily a deterrent," Endevar points out.

"Depends on the accident. But I take your point."

"And getting arrested for murder just adds to our problems," he tells Alemar firmly.

"If anyone's going to commit murder here, it should be me, I'm much likelier to get away with it."

"And if you don't get away with it, what happens to Lyrame?" Alemar asks.

"...mm," he says, acknowledgingly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he says.

"Alle."

"All I'm saying is, as long as he's got you he'd better be a damn sight more careful with himself."

No purpose will be served by getting into this - but - it itches not to -

"I'd free her before I'd see her in anyone else's hands," he says quietly.

"...Well, better than not."

She reaches over to squeeze his hand.

Handsqueeze.

"--Anyway. I feel like it might--attract the wrong kind of attention. If someone like you was willing to kill on my family's behalf."

"Fair enough."

"So. If there's money we can hire a lawyer, and then we'll see where we get from there."

"Yeah."

Shoulderpat. Returning to food. She compliments her sister on the food.

"It's good," Sekar agrees.

"If you like her food, wait 'till you hear her play."

"I am prepared to be amazed!"

"You will."

He smiles.

Elcisse starts talking about her day at school.

Lyrame relaxes and listens.

And then dinner finishes and Elcisse runs off to grab her flute.

Sekar is prepared to be amazed.

Elcisse delivers.

Ooooh.

When she plays, it's like there's nothing in the world to her but the flute and the music. And it pays.

He is impressed.

She finally finishes the piece and holds her flute in both hands and bows.

"All right, I'm amazed," he says.

She smiles. "Thank you."