i.
the vizier, born, just before his twin
on that rainy night did his service begin
mired in power, perfect to a fault
he locked what was left of his heart in a vault.
ii.
Alan's oldest memory was of racing Geordo to the top of a hill, and losing.
iii.
When they were seven, he realized that Ian, their eldest brother, preferred Geordo to either him or Edward. Ian was going to be king someday, so that made Geordo better than him, he supposed.
Geordo and Ian drilled swordcraft together, sat quietly in lessons, handed in perfect work. Alan studied hard, almost obsessively, and after each failure, retreated to the sitting room and opened the lid of his polished-mahogany piano. The bay window next to him looked out onto the training yards, and he'd watch them, the future king and his faithful vizier.
iv.
When they were eight, Alan realized he wasn't worthless. He coaxed the last few notes from the Claes' piano and stood, and Geordo's gaze wasn't the cool, bored blue he was used to. His brother's eyes sparkled- with admiration, he could barely believe it- and a roomful of nobles and servants applauded his performance.
v.
When they were nine, Alan realized he was finally happy with his relationship with Geordo. They would never truly understand one another- Geordo spent far more time with kindred soul Nicol Ascart than with him- but they were brothers, indelibly, a bond finally strong enough to lean on.
vi.
When they were ten, Alan realized Geordo was in love with Lady Katarina Claes. Usually, they visited the Claes family every few weeks, but Lord Claes had taken the family for an extended vacation in the Sorcier highlands that summer. Nearly three Katarina-less months passed. They visited again, once the family returned, and Katarina sent Alan and Keith away to gather wood. "Thin sticks," she'd yelled, "but sturdy!"
The two boys raced one another down the hill, then ascended more slowly with armfuls of sticks- and Alan heard an unfamiliar sound, a vibration he thought he knew but could not place- and they crested the top of the hill, and found Geordo laughing, hard enough that he was wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.
Katarina had made Geordo laugh before. Alan must have gotten used to it, but- Geordo hadn't laughed since she'd left. Horrified, Alan cast his mind back. He hadn't laughed when they'd all played charades with the governess, though everyone else had. He hadn't laughed when Ian's horse ran away from the new stablehand, forcing Ian to corral and brush it down himself. He hadn't even smiled when he won the young knights' tournament against boys older than him- in fact, Alan thought Geordo barely capable of feeling joy at all. Katarina, to the exclusion of all else, was able to pull Geordo out of whatever fog of boredom he was usually mired in. It was love, Alan was absolutely certain.
vii.
When they were eleven, Alan realized that despite what he'd thought, Mother preferred him to Geordo.
Mother and Father were receiving their tutors' reports in the study that evening, and Edward had convinced them all to try and eavesdrop. He had an excellent inventor's brain, and was fond of tinkering around in his workshop- his labors had produced a small metal device that, when stuck to a window, would transmit the conversation inside the room directly into their ears. However, they hadn't the foresight to place it in the seventh-floor study beforehand, so Alan found himself part of a harebrained scheme to lower him down from the window of an eighth-floor classroom with a braided length of rope. Sitting on the windowsill, he held out Edward's device, and each brother pulled out a strand of hair and added it to the device, to key it to their ears, and then they lowered him slowly down the outer wall of the castle.
He was terrified, hanging outside the study window with the rope digging into his waist and underarms, sure that Mother or Father would look over and spot him. Reaching out, he tried to attach the device to the window, but it wouldn't stick. Alarmed, he checked the classroom window for guidance. Hold it in place, Edward mouthed.
Groaning- of course they'd send him to hang outside in the cold for as long as this conversation would last- he found a foothold just to the left of the window, and clung to the top of the window-frame with both hands, the device dangling from his left hand. He flipped the transmission switch, and his ears filled with sound.
"...don't agree. Ian is doing well, and he will be capable of managing Sorcier when the time comes," said his mother's voice.
"He doesn't pay the slightest attention to Clara, darling. He still hasn't realized that he cannot run the kingdom by himself. He must work with his wife, or he will burn out," his father replied.
"You paid me very little attention at that age as well, I assure you," the queen replied, warm and amused. "He will grow into the relationship, and should they choose to break it off, I have some other candidates in mind."
"That's true... and in any case, he won't be left to handle things alone. He has Geordo."
"Geordo..." his mother sighed. "I wish he was more like Edward or Alan. Or even Ian."
Outside, Alan gripped the window frame harder as he almost fell in shock.
"I don't think we could handle two of Ian, darling! We'd be overrun by young ladies!" joked Father.
"Ian is charismatic and sociable, he loves people, anyone can see that, darling Alan always lights up at his piano, and Edward would do nothing but tinker with his inventions if he were allowed, but Geordo... Richard, the boy is emotionless. He's always wearing a blasted mask, cool and proper as if he's in court. I shouldn't feel this way, he's my son, I- I feel as if I'm reaching desperately for a soul, but there's nothing there. To rule a country, one must have empathy for its citizens-"
"Victoria! How could you say-"
Alan felt as if all his breath was stolen from his lungs, lightheaded and dizzy. The world took on a sudden sharp quality as he pulled the device to him and yanked the hairs out angrily, scattering them in the wind. Burning with a maelstrom of rage, shame, and guilt, he tugged the rope twice and his brothers began to pull him up. Once he was safely inside the classroom, he finally got a good look at their faces. They were all shell-shocked, even Geordo. Ian had an arm around him, and for once, he wasn't pushing it off.
The next day, Geordo seemed as unfazed as ever, but Ian was uncharacteristically cold towards their parents. Edward and Alan, still reeling, spun ill-formed, ridiculous excuses to avoid their parents' company. That afternoon, Ian took Geordo to the Ascart estate, where they joined Nicol and his father on a long hunt. Later that night, the Ascarts sent a messenger to inform them Ian and Geordo would stay there for the rest of the week.
When they returned, Ian grinning cheerfully and Geordo wearing the slightest hint of a smile, Alan pulled his twin into an uncharacteristic hug as soon as he disembarked. He began to say something, but got tangled in his words and trailed off halfway.
Geordo replied to him quietly, mouth hidden from their parents' view behind Alan's right shoulder. "Thank you."
viii.
When they were twelve, Alan realized that just as he'd thought, Father preferred Geordo to him.
Alan was outside with Thomas and their wooden practice blades, reviewing basic stances, when Father and Aunt Vera sat on the training arena benches and gestured to them to carry on. Alan kept running Thomas through the drills, and while the younger boy was too focused to hear the conversation happening behind them, Alan was not. He was hit with a sudden flash of contempt- he'd done these drills a hundred times, did Father really think he couldn't eavesdrop at the same time?
"...wonderful children," Aunt Vera is saying. "They're all very talented."
"They are," Father replied proudly. "I know when my time comes, the kingdom will be in safe hands regardless of which of them must ascend to the throne." Alan smiled, then, his father's approval washing over him like a warm wave.
"Don't be so morbid, Richard," his aunt chided. "Ian will live for a good, long time."
"Yes," Father replied. "All of them will."
"I'm glad to hear you're so proud of them, at any rate," said Vera. "We were never quite good enough for Father, were we?" Alan's paternal grandfather had passed away before he was born, but he knew Ian and Edward had met him when they were very young.
"Vera, you can't know how much I wish Father had stayed alive long enough to know Geordo. He is everything he wanted from me."
Vera laughs, the wind carrying her soft chuckle to Alan's ears. "You were just like Edward, absolutely obsessive over those horses of yours. Do you remember when you forgot to send the grain allotment to the military barracks because you were racing all weekend? I've never seen Father that furious, before or since."
Father shakes his head in amusement. "See, that is why I'm so fond of Geordo. He's everything I should have been. Last month, I asked Ian to write me a report on water supply in the capital, and in his first draft, he hadn't checked whether the water storage was meant for the sewers or for the canals. He thought we had more than enough water, and marked that we could provide it from the sewers. The later drafts were corrected, but he admitted to me that Geordo pointed the error out to him. Ian won't be a bad king- he's picking everything up quickly enough, and knows when to listen to others- but Geordo, Vera. He's twelve."
"Father would have loved him." Aunt Vera sounded lonely somehow, and distant. "Why does he have such an interest in the management of Sorcier? He doesn't seem to have a passion for it."
"I think you're right. To tell you the truth, I've no idea what he does have passion for. Victoria isn't happy with that state of affairs at all. When he was younger, his work was borne of a desire to help Ian, since Ian was under a lot of pressure- but he's changed since then. He's become colder, harder somehow."
"Talk to him," urged Vera. "You must talk to him, address this before he's older, and slips out of your grasp completely. No twelve-year-old is naturally cold towards his own parents, Richard. Perhaps he will find his passion later in life, but you mustn't let him become an unfeeling man."
"It's time for dinner," Father replied. "Let's continue this later."
They rose, then, and Alan heard the swish of his aunt's skirts as the adults approached.
ix.
When they were thirteen, Alan realized Geordo was hiding most of himself behind that cool, courtly mask that Mother hated so much.
If you'd asked Alan what type of magic Geordo would manifest, he would have picked air. Nicol, his best friend, had manifested air already. Both water and earth were far too close to nature for him- he was as close to perfect as Alan had ever encountered, anyway. And fire, of course, required passion. So that left air. He rather liked the idea- Ian and Edward both possessed earth magic, and his own was water. He believed Diana and Thomas would both manifest fire as well, so if Geordo was air, they would have all four major elements within the family.
So when mother's dinner napkin burst into flame, he was understandably shocked. The younger children were visiting their friends for dinner, and everyone else present had already manifested, so all eyes turned to Geordo. "Apologies, Mother," he said stiffly.
"Fire magic, eh?" said Ian, grinning. "Congratulations! You're going to learn all the flashiest spells, you know."
Geordo allowed a rare smile to escape, looking at his hands as if he'd never seen them before. "I suppose I will."
x.
When they were fourteen, Alan realized Geordo was ruthlessly competent.
The entire family was outside that day, at a large afternoon tea at the Nelson château. He was playing badminton with Sienna, Keith, Mary, and Katarina. Ian was swimming with his friends. Edward was rowing Diana and Thomas, around on the lake, and Geordo was sitting on the pier with Nicol and Sophia, watching.
Just to the left of his badminton game, a situation was brewing, not that anyone realized it at the time. Magical outbursts were common in noble families, and usually were weak and caught by the child's parents before they could do any harm. However, the crying child proved the exception to the rule. Mary batted the shuttlecock towards Alan, and by the time it reached him, it was aflame. Fire was breaking out everywhere around the party, most concentrated around the child, and while everyone stood around in stunned shock, Geordo and Nicol leapt into action like the purebred guard dogs they kept at the palace. Nicol sprinted away to fetch any water magicians amongst the adults, and then Geordo began issuing orders. Edward and Ian were to stay in the lake to prevent drownings, and the rest of the older children were to find all the younger children and bring them to the lake. Geordo himself then dove into the lake, and then ran straight into the flames surrounding the child who'd lost control of her magic. Alan watched him disappear into the flames, heart in his throat- only to re-emerge with the crying child, who he pushed unceremoniously into the lake, offering no comfort. The flames licked the dry wood of the trees, growing higher and higher as Mary herded the last of the children into the lake. They were crying and screaming until Geordo snapped at them, forcing them into line for a headcount.
Alan hated to recall his own behavior, then, stressed and on the verge of panic. He swam right up to Geordo and shouted at him, warning him not to snap at them- but then he turned, and they'd almost all stopped crying. Something in Geordo's manner comforted them, helped them feel secure where empathy did not. He'd backed off then, shamefaced, and Ian waded over to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry," he'd said. "Geordo can handle it."
It was then that he heard loud hissing sounds, and the pillar of flame on the opposite bank went out. Out of the cloud of soot stepped Nicol, flanked by the adults. "Everyone is safe," Geordo called, and Lady Nelson's knees buckled as she fell to the ground in relief.
As the adults began putting the rest of the fire out, Geordo swam towards them and climbed out onto the bank. He and Nicol stood there together, heads bent in discussion, one dark and one light, and Alan shivered, there in the water, feeling helpless and foolish and useless.
xi.
When they were fifteen, Alan realized Geordo and Ian rescued him from shouldering the full burden of being a Stuart.
He was taking a walk through the gardens with his fiancée Mary Hunt when the knowledge found him. He thought it would be a good idea to call off their engagement- he could see that Mary, like his brother, was deeply in love with Katarina Claes. But when he mentioned it to Mary, she refused angrily.
"Are you not in love with Katarina, then?" he'd asked, frustrated.
"It's not that," she snapped. "I- I am, I do love her."
"Then why not?"
She turned to face him. "Nobody else in the Hunt family is engaged to a blasted prince, Alan!" She began jabbing him in the chest with her fan on every other word, hard enough that Alan was sure the spot would be sore the next day.
"My sisters are engaged to Dukes and Lords. Do you know what happens when they go to parties? When they make the tiniest errors in ettiquette? Oh sure, lords and ladies may titter and disapprove, but then- then they forget. They forget, Alan, that Anna Hunt, Lord Allen's fiancée, used the wrong fork at dinner. Do you know what happens, Alan Stuart, when I dare to use the wrong fork? They find each other, all the barons and earls and dukes who want you to marry their daughters, and they tell everyone how Mary Hunt is barely a lady, absolutely uncouth, unworthy of a prince from the Stuart family! What do you, in all your wisdom, think they will say when we call off the engagement?"
Alan is silent, staring at her wide-eyed, and Mary takes that as her cue to continue. "Exactly! I will not break this engagement until you want to court someone else, or I am ready to marry Katarina Claes." To his relief, she sheathed the fan back into the pocket of her coat.
"I'm- I'm sorry, Mary, I never even thought about it- are the nobles really that bad?"
"You don't even know how much criticism Prince Ian and Prince Geordo shield you from?! Oh, Alan..."
"I-"
"When I complained to my mother about how carefully-watched I was, a few years after we were officially betrothed, she told me about how things were when Prince Ian was my age. You must know your brother Edward was considered socially awkward for a long time, right?"
"Yes."
"The nobles were all looking to Prince Ian as the future king, throwing their daughters at him and trying to gain his favor- but at every little mistake he made, the murmurs would begin. There would be rumor after rumor that he was unsuitable to be a king, that he'd run the kingdom into the ground, that the King and Queen were too soft on him. It must have been a lot of pressure. Mother said he was extroverted as a young boy, but started becoming quieter and quieter, withdrawing into himself."
"-and then Geordo began attending balls."
"Yes. Once Prince Geordo attended, he joined Prince Ian in attending to all the nobles a future king must attend to, instead of playing with the rest of the children." Mary shrugged. "Either way, Mother's point was the same. It could be much, much worse was I in their position. They shield you from a lot of pressure, Alan, whether you know it or not."
He hadn't even realized, caught up in his own world. Ian, Geordo- even Nicol, he supposed, were shouldering the kingdom's burden, shielding the rest of their siblings from it. It was little wonder Geordo was so perfect all the time- a habit that, ingrained into a little boy so early, would likely never leave him.
He couldn't believe he'd ever been jealous.
xii.
When they were sixteen, Alan realized what Geordo's passion was.
Father informed Ian that guerrilla forces from the neighboring Oswary Isles were raiding villages along the southern border. Ian, as the future King, was expected to ride down there with a few troops and handle the situation. Naturally, he wanted to take Geordo with him, and naturally, Father said if Geordo was going, Alan might as well go too. So Alan found himself on a lovely chestnut horse, riding behind the future king and his vizier all the way to the Oswary border.
He woke the next day to find his brothers already breakfasted and strategizing. Scone in hand, he tried to join in on the plotting, but even he could tell his lack of knowledge was showing. He went outside, instead, and drilled with the soldiers. This was something he knew how to do- and he was not Geordo, but he could help Ian in his own way. As it turned out, the pair designed a rather clever ambush to capture a strategic Oswary fort, relying on Alan's ability to maintain bubbles around the heads of twenty soldiers so they might breathe underwater.
They trialled the magic in a lake, and it worked perfectly. Alan was given command of twenty of the best swimmers, christened the southern ambush force. He desperately wanted to come up with some sort of marine pun, but neither of his brothers seemed in a mood to appreciate his wit, so he refrained. His squadron was to approach the fort underwater, and use an explosive to detonate the wall. The prison in the lowest part of the fort would flood. The Oswary guards, weighed down by chain mail, ought to drown (Alan is uncomfortable with this, but it is their mission) and Alan's team was to use more explosives to break all the prisoners out, with priority given to Sorcieris. Once all the Sorcieri prisoners were transported to shore, Geordo would set fire to the remaining levels of the fort and smoke the soldiers out, where the remainder of their force would await them. Ian would raise rocks in the water around the fort so that they wouldn't try to escape by sea, for fear of the ocean waves tossing them against the rocks. Alan's job, all in all, was fairly simple. Rescue the Sorcieri prisoners, and be sure to be out just after Geordo set the fire, just before Ian raised the rocks.
He was grateful to be part of the rescue team, rather than the attackers. The thought of causing death still made him queasy.
On the morning of the assault, Alan rode with his squadron out to their entry point, and reviewed the plan. Most of the soldiers were fresh trainees, and thankfully were eager to take direction. Alan checked at his pocket watch... 10:29, 10:30- and began the attack, right on time. The air bubbles held up well as they swam. Half an hour later, they reached the base of the fort and set the explosives. Alan checked his watch again, nervously. Still on schedule. They swam away quickly, and in a few minutes, the water broke through the soluble lining and the bomb exploded.
Alan was not prepared for the reality of the invasion. He watched guard and prisoner alike panic, and blasted aside guard after guard after searching them, desperately, for the keys. He finally found a set, and grabbed the nearest soldier, instructing him to unlock as many cells as possible.
Ian and Geordo had been correct about which cells housed Sorcieri citizens, and set the explosive location in the spot most likely to free them without putting them in danger. Most of the Sorcieris had already made it to the water's surface, and were swimming for shore. Alan checked his watch again, and cursed. They were running out of time, but despite his instructions, he didn't feel right leaving the rest of the prisoners to die. In one cell, a mother with her two children looked at him, waving her arms, clearly begging for assistance as her face began to strain from the lack of oxygen. Alan sighed. He pulled over a soldier, instructed him to watch his back, and closed his eyes, blocking out the commotion. He focused, hard, and when he opened them, all the prisoners had air bubbles. He grinned in triumph, and began helping unlock or detonate their cells, shoving them towards the left side of the fort. If any of them were speared on Ian's rocks, he knew he couldn't forgive himself.
Only about two-thirds of the prisoners were safe when Alan saw flames licking at the fort above the waves. He cursed, and exhausted, swam away from the soon-to-be rocks as fast as he could. Then, he closed his eyes again and used the very last dregs of his energy to use the water to push the prisoners onto the shore. He woke up on shore himself, coughing up water, one of his soldiers pressing on his chest.
"Can you walk, Prince Alan?" the man asked.
"Yes," he croaked, finding his feet. "Thank you for the rescue..."
"Eric," he supplied.
"Thank you, Eric."
Alan had woken up just in time to watch the rocks make their ascent. "Did we get them all? Even the non-Sorcieri?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks to you, sir," Eric replied. "Most of them seem all right, but the boys are tending to a few injured ones."
He sighed in relief. "Looks like the plan is working."
Oswary soldiers were pouring out of the burning fort, trapped between the fire, the rocks, the ocean, and Ian and Geordo's squadron. The final battle began, and Alan signaled the uninjured in his own squadron to join the fighting force. The fewer lives lost, the better. However, Ian and Geordo had made one major miscalculation. Their soldiers were fresh trainees, and the Oswaris were hardened veterans. It became clear that the Sorcieri troops were outmatched, man-to-man. A spasm of pure rage twisted Geordo's face, sending a shiver down Alan's spine. He'd never seen anything like it. His brother whispered to Ian, and Ian rode away, calling the signal for a full retreat, and the limping, beaten Sorcieri troops followed. However, Geordo stayed right where he was, facing down the Oswary soldiers. Alan, having obeyed the retreat call, now hastened to rush back to Geordo's side. But he was only halfway there when the Oswari began to advance on Geordo, and Geordo tossed his sword into his left hand and raised his right- and he produced an enormous column of flame, engulfing all the Oswaris, so hot it was purely white. Alan felt the heat-burn even from where he was, and watched in horror as it kept going, and going, and going. Geordo's face was contorted into a sort of wild grin of triumph, dripping with blood from the cut on his face, crazed and angry. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he dropped his arm and swayed on his feet, seemingly dizzy. The fire went out, with nothing left to burn, and ash, soot, hunks of melted metal, and burnt bone fragments fell from the air.
And Geordo's smile gentled, went soft as he poked some of the quickly-cooling metal with a stick, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. It was the sort of smile Alan wore after a successful concert, the sort of smile Edward wore when his creations worked as intended. It was pure, simple satisfaction.
Then Geordo turned around, the mask falling over him once again as he remembered his audience. "We won," he said simply, walking to where Ian stood. "WE WON!" echoed Ian, pumping a fist in the air, and the soldiers cheered right along with him.
Then his twin fell into the role Alan knew well, the purebred collie herding his sheep. One squadron to escort the villagers home, another to salvage valuables from the fort, a third to tend to any injured. Not a single Oswari was left alive, as far as Alan could tell.
They were lauded as village heroes, that night, and didn't pay for a single drink at the inn. Ian instructed the soldiers to go out and have fun, as thanks for a job well done, and to be ready to ride out again tomorrow morning. Geordo and Alan joined a group of them Ian was taking to a local inn.
Even Geordo was in a celebratory mood that evening. He clapped to the bard's songs, drank wine, and smiled with a sparkle in his eyes that Alan only ever saw around Katarina. He, however, didn't feel particularly jovial. Geordo's expressions kept playing in his mind, his crazed, angry smile and his soft satisfaction. He couldn't help but feel bad for the Oswari, as well- how were they to expect the Sorcieri king would send three powerful magicians to their small backwater raiding fort? They had not a single magical defense, likely assuming the King wouldn't waste magical resourcing on these tiny, insignificant border towns.
When they left the inn early that morning, despite their drinks being on the house, Geordo left the innkeep enough gold to pay for it all despite his protestations.
About halfway back to the palace, Alan finally worked up the nerve to open the subject of Geordo's unexpected attack. Drawing his chestnut mare level with Geordo's white Arabian and Ian's bay, he tried to broach the subject delicately.
"Geordo, I'm- I'm a little concerned. You spent a lot of energy at the end of the battle, I saw you swaying on your feet. Are you all right?"
His brother smiled at him, freely, the way he usually only smiled at Katarina. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm a little tired now, but I don't have any symptoms of magical exhaustion."
"Right," replied Alan, swallowing hard. "It's just- you looked so, so satisfied, just then."
Geordo looks at him askance, eyes questioning, face still with that same dreadful openness he'd had since the battle. "What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Of course I was satisfied, we'd just won."
"We won!" exclaims Ian, laughing. "Thanks to you, brother! I thought we might get slaughtered there in the end. Father wanted to see how we reacted to unexpected variables, I think. He told me he was sending mostly veterans."
"Or he simply mixed them up, Ian," replied Geordo, still with that strange smile. "I'll bet you my sword he just mixed them up."
"No way I'm taking that!" grinned Ian. "I know better than to bet against you." He galloped ahead of them, then, to lead the forward guard down the correct fork in the road.
Geordo turned back to Alan, eyes shining in concern. "What's wrong, Alan? I can tell you're still uneasy."
"It was just- just a lot of death."
"Yes, but it was necessary. It was us or them- how do you think the people of the border towns felt, when they died at Oswari hands?"
"You're right," he replied, still despondent.
"Alan, don't blub," he said. He looked up, and saw his brother, a light prince on a white horse, blonde hair ruffling in the wind, spine ramrod-straight, blue eyes sparkling with joy. A true prince of Sorcier. "We won," Geordo continued. "We won."
The closer they got to the castle, the more Geordo's mask began to solidify once again, the fire-mage Alan had seen on the battlefield hiding himself behind a cold layer of refinement. But now, Alan could see Geordo, repressed, just below the surface.
And he realized, then, that Geordo did have a passion. A passion he had, in fact, been practicing for most of his life. First in class, first to fight off the nobles slandering Ian, first in the young knights' tourney so long ago. Geordo's passion was victory, the clearer the better.
xiii.
When they were seventeen, Alan realized he was in love with Katarina Claes. There were at least six other people in love with her, and she was his brother's fiancée to boot. But that didn't stop him. He was in love with her anyway.
xiv.
When they are eighteen, Alan realizes that while Geordo is often cold, can be cruel, is slightly sadistic, and harbors an unhealthy obsession with winning, he is still fundamentally kind.
Maria, Keith, Mary, and Sophia are terrified, braced for heartbreak on the day Lady Katarina Claes turns eighteen. The girl is, as ever, oblivious to their feelings, and can't understand the source of all the stress- but at least they are able to commiserate with one another. Traditionally, a marriage would follow a long engagement as soon as both the bride and the groom were of age, and knowing of Geordo's feelings for Katarina, they expect him to press his advantage as soon as possible.
Alan and Nicol are exempt from this worry, because the day before Katarina's birthday, Geordo invites them for tea.
"I wanted you here," he begins, "to discuss Katarina." Alan starts, and spills some tea on his lap.
"I may have been remiss," Geordo continues, "in not inviting the others, but I felt it would be easier to discuss this with the two of you first. It's not that the others aren't friends, I simply- simply know you best."
Nicol smiles reassuringly at his friend, and all Alan can see is the devilish count, peeking out from behind the curtain, ready to whisk Katarina away. "I understand," the dark-haired boy says softly. "We've known each other for a long time."
"As you know, Katarina's birthday is tomorrow. However, I don't intend to push for an imminent marriage. I think-" here Geordo's eyes flicker- "that Katarina should have a chance to decide for herself who she truly wants, who she would be happiest with. I will not marry her unless she makes it clear that- that that is what she wants, to the exclusion of everyone else. Until then," and now he's smiling, "let the games continue."
Alan is so shocked at his brother's words that he manages to spill the entire cup of tea onto his clothes. "You- what?" he asks, gasping from the heat of the liquid. Nicol is smiling, nodding calmly, like he knew all along that Geordo would say this. Smug bastard.
"You want to win her," says the devilish count, taking a delicate sip of the earl grey. "Not steal her."
Geordo's mask drops, for a moment, and thrill briefly passes across his features, as if the very thought has given him an adrenaline rush. "Yes."
"If it were me- with the engagement, I mean," Alan blurts out before he can think twice, "I couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to let- let her go."
"If you love her, you must let her go," says Nicol.
"-if she is truly yours, she will come back to you," finishes Geordo. Alan feels like the outsider here, with them, these two halves of a whole, for all he and Geordo are biologically twins. They understand each other, and Alan will never understand them, for if he had Katarina, he wouldn't be able to bear the risk of watching her- watching her love someone else.
He realizes, then, that all of them- himself, Keith, Nicol, Sophia, Mary, and Maria- only spend time with Katarina by Geordo's grace. He sits there, day after day, watching others flirt with a woman who is his betrothed. He could easily have pushed Katarina into a marriage long before this, as the clueless girl wouldn't unilaterally break the engagement. He could have asserted his rights as her fiancé to keep the rest of them out of her rooms, out of her life, and monopolize her time for himself. Alan is very glad Geordo isn't like him.
Not to mention it would take away from Katarina's very spirit, to be monopolized and restricted and bound. Katarina thrived on social interaction and friendship, and Geordo was smart enough to realize that even if she chose to marry him in the end, her friends would never be peripheral to her life.
It's then that Alan realizes that despite all of his brother's flaws, despite all of his brother's perfection, Geordo is truly, fundamentally kind. He had set her free from the beginning, and was still waiting, patiently, to see if she would return.
xv.
only two things brought the vizier joy
his victorious exploits and his helen of troy
yet he sets her free, a thousand ships sail in chase
he awaits her return to his loving embrace.