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crack_van2011-03-30 09:02 am
beatrice_otter) wrote in crack_van2011-03-30 09:02 am
Entry tags:
Second Son by JM Torres (Teen)
Fandom: VORKOSIVERSE
Pairing: Kareen/Serg, Ezar, Negri
Length: 1598 words
Author on LJ:![[personal profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jmtorres
Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read:
Here is another awesome story about Kareen, set a few years after the first. This story answers the question "Why is Gregor named Gregor?" Vor names for boys follow a strict pattern: first son gets called by his two grandfathers' first names, second son gets called after his grandfathers' second names. (So the name Miles should have had was "Piotr Miles," but Piotr refused to allow his name to be used when he found out Miles would be born deformed.) So why is Gregor called Gregor, and not Ezar?
This story answers that question with a chilling look at what Kareen has gone through and what kind of a monster Serg is, and how ruthless Ezar is. It is compelling, and shows just how much guts Kareen's got to survive.
The birth of Kareen Vorbarra's second child was was well-attended, as befit that of an Imperial Heir. A handful of women formed a protective screen--her bodyguard, her mother, the midwife--which nonetheless failed to disguise the ring of exalted men all crowded 'round to ascertain that the child issued forth from her own womb with no clever switch-offs. Captain Negri; the Prime Minister; the Emperor himself; her husband, the Crown Prince Serg, who she had not seen since her pregnancy was confirmed, who was watching her with parted lips and glittering eyes. Had he never seen the fruition of this process that so vilely fascinated him? Had he never realized, Kareen wondered, dropping her head back to groan at a contraction, that the natural end of it was its own kind of torture?
There were forms to follow, a strange mixture of the old and new. The midwife pulled her child from her body, held him up for all to see his dangling prick, slapped his bottom to make him draw breath and cry out. Kareen drew in her own breath, held back her own cry. Her mother took him, tied off his cord and cut it, checked him over, declared him whole and hale, in the old phrase, and then the ImpMil surgeon took a pin-prick of blood from his heel to test for all the mutations they knew how to identify, in the new style. The boy cried all the harder for it, and Kareen said, "Give him to me," arms out beseeching.
"Be patient, girl," said Emperor Ezar, who was old enough to get away with it, despite the manifest proof of her womanhood.
Serg took the boy into his arms and uttered a handful of official phrases, recognizing him as his son and heir. The boy's wails rose, as Kareen's thought her own might, if she had found herself in Serg's arms.
"Give him to me," she pleaded.
Ezar lifted the baby from Serg's hands--Kareen wasn't sure Serg would have let go for anyone else, and even that was a near thing. His mouth looked hard with held back anger. His hands were sticky with blood and vernix, but he made no move to wipe them off, and Kareen closed her eyes against the thought that he'd plunged his hands readily in worse.
Second Son
Pairing: Kareen/Serg, Ezar, Negri
Length: 1598 words
Author on LJ:
jmtorres Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read:
Here is another awesome story about Kareen, set a few years after the first. This story answers the question "Why is Gregor named Gregor?" Vor names for boys follow a strict pattern: first son gets called by his two grandfathers' first names, second son gets called after his grandfathers' second names. (So the name Miles should have had was "Piotr Miles," but Piotr refused to allow his name to be used when he found out Miles would be born deformed.) So why is Gregor called Gregor, and not Ezar?
This story answers that question with a chilling look at what Kareen has gone through and what kind of a monster Serg is, and how ruthless Ezar is. It is compelling, and shows just how much guts Kareen's got to survive.
The birth of Kareen Vorbarra's second child was was well-attended, as befit that of an Imperial Heir. A handful of women formed a protective screen--her bodyguard, her mother, the midwife--which nonetheless failed to disguise the ring of exalted men all crowded 'round to ascertain that the child issued forth from her own womb with no clever switch-offs. Captain Negri; the Prime Minister; the Emperor himself; her husband, the Crown Prince Serg, who she had not seen since her pregnancy was confirmed, who was watching her with parted lips and glittering eyes. Had he never seen the fruition of this process that so vilely fascinated him? Had he never realized, Kareen wondered, dropping her head back to groan at a contraction, that the natural end of it was its own kind of torture?
There were forms to follow, a strange mixture of the old and new. The midwife pulled her child from her body, held him up for all to see his dangling prick, slapped his bottom to make him draw breath and cry out. Kareen drew in her own breath, held back her own cry. Her mother took him, tied off his cord and cut it, checked him over, declared him whole and hale, in the old phrase, and then the ImpMil surgeon took a pin-prick of blood from his heel to test for all the mutations they knew how to identify, in the new style. The boy cried all the harder for it, and Kareen said, "Give him to me," arms out beseeching.
"Be patient, girl," said Emperor Ezar, who was old enough to get away with it, despite the manifest proof of her womanhood.
Serg took the boy into his arms and uttered a handful of official phrases, recognizing him as his son and heir. The boy's wails rose, as Kareen's thought her own might, if she had found herself in Serg's arms.
"Give him to me," she pleaded.
Ezar lifted the baby from Serg's hands--Kareen wasn't sure Serg would have let go for anyone else, and even that was a near thing. His mouth looked hard with held back anger. His hands were sticky with blood and vernix, but he made no move to wipe them off, and Kareen closed her eyes against the thought that he'd plunged his hands readily in worse.
Second Son