peerless_thayet | (no subject)

(no subject)

Not long after Midwinter, the air turned bitingly cold. Word is a great frost settled in the north, and has yet to lift.

At least the royal apartments are kept warm, Thayet thinks, kissing her son's forehead. Still, she tightens the sash on her thick robe before she slips out, leaving him to his dreams. Warm and clean and perfectly cozy.

Trailing her fingers along the wall of the passageway leading back to her bedroom, she stifles an ungracious sigh and watches her long, slim toes peek out from under her lavish hem as she walks. Things have looked different to Thayet since Roald was born. More and more she focuses on simplicity where it can be found, lest she choke on the splendor.

She's not unhappy or ungrateful, far from it, but sometimes when she's speaking with Buri, or manages to groom her own horse, she finds herself missing certain aspects of her old life.

Jon is in her room, as he is most every night, reading border reports. He says he likes the light, but she knows he likes the company and the freedom. It's one of the only places in the palace where he knows he won't be disturbed. Seeing him in the big chair by the fire, she smiles fondly.

"My lord, there's something I'd like to discuss."

Thayet's brow wrinkles. She hadn't intended to bring it up tonight, but now is as good a time as any.

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Jon looks up and smiles at his queen. Even though he can tell she's tired, she is still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

At her words, he sets the papers down and turns to her, trying not to look worried. "What is it, love?"

Bending her elbows and lacing her fingers together across her midriff, Thayet purses her lips in thought. Her hair is a mess of waves down her back and she's well aware that the robe does not set her at her best advantage. Really she should have waited until she looked more regal.

Hazel eyes meet blue, and she smiles. It's silly to be worried about speaking openly with Jon.

"The famine left Tortall vulnerable in more ways than one, did it not? Raiders have become more of a problem than usual."

Jon looks down at the papers lying beside him and sighs, his expression serious.

"The borders are a mess," he admits. "And it's just going to get worse as the winter goes on. I hope the nobles are prepared to tighten their belts, because I'm going to have to ask for another round of taxes to buy more grain to last us til spring."

"The bandits don't have much to steal, which can often make them more dangerous. Reckless."

She crosses to his side and lightly taps his shoulder, a silent request to shift his torso so she can rub his shoulders. He looks as if he needs it.

And might need it more in a moment.

"The army can't handle them. They're too slow and do nothing without days of discussion."

Jon obliges, moving and sighing with pleasure as Thayet's fingers move over his skin.

He tenses slightly at her last words. Quietly, he replies, "I think you might be right. We've tried smaller squads, but the horses are too heavy to really give chase."

"Your army is a magnificent fighting force. But they haven't been trained to fight or think the way the bandits do -- like scavengers, harrying small villages and towns then fleeing along the coast," Thayet comments, smiling to herself.

It's nice when he helps argue her point.

"You need a smaller force, like you said, one that's quick and agile and not riddled with protocol. One that answers to someone besides you, at least in the immediate sense."

Jon's lips quirk and he turns to face Thayet with a raised eyebrow.

"You sound like you have something in mind, my dear. Why don't you sit and tell me your idea."

Thayet nods, holds a breath and settles herself in the opposite chair.

"I believe I already have," she says with a light laugh, smoothing the skirt of her robe. "But not all of it." A pause. "I imagined small groups of expert riders, no more than ten per group, living off only what they can hunt or buy or trade to eliminate the need for supply trains; well-armed but lightly armed, so they can respond in a timely and useful fashion; stationed around the country but trained and headquartered here. Ponies and small horses with nimble feet and without all that heavy armor could lend them the speed the army sorely lacks.

"And I would like to be in charge," she finishes, subtly straightening her shoulders.

Jon is nodding along with her words, admiring her usual thoroughness of planning.

Her last sentence stops him in his tracks.

"...oh?" He isn't sure how to respond. Stupid unprepared brain.

Tread carefully, Thayet tells herself, taking a deep breath before forging ahead.

"Yes. Largely from here, of course, but not exclusively." She leans forward, eager to convince him. "It makes sense, Jon. If it's anyone else, the group would ultimately be absorbed by the army and fall victim to the problems it would have been created to combat."

Her voice lowers. "Now that Roald is born, I hoped I might have something of my own. Some way to contribute that hinges on what really matters, not elegant gowns and fine manners."

"That is a good point," Jon admits. "It's the problem we have with some of those groups now."

He winces slightly. "Thayet, I never want you to feel like you are trapped here. I just..." his voice trails off, trying to phrase what he's thinking properly.

"I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

Her determined expression softens.

"And I don't know what I would do if something happened to you," she tells him. "But who we are is larger than those feelings. We have a responsibility to the land and her people. We made vows to them as well as each other. It's a burden I would like to help you bear, my lord. In more ways than I do now."

She rises and crosses to reach for his hand.

"I don't feel trapped. Not that. But I would like to help in this small way. I'd be good at it," she promises him.

Jon smiles. "Of that, my dear, I have no doubt." He rubs her fingers gently, looking down at them for a moment before looking up again.

"How would you propose forming these groups? Who would you recruit?"

That's not an outright 'no', is it? Thayet feels a rush of success and confidence, and perches gracefully on the arm of his chair, at ease now and warming to her subject.

"Anyone who is interested," she reveals. "I'd send word throughout the land. Nobles have their knighthood. Other Tortallans should be offered this sort of opportunity to protect their country, too. There would be a rigorous training period, of course, and only a select few would succeed, but I don't want to limit our ranks. It seems to me that the people who might be best suited to fighting bandits are the people who face them at a very young age with nothing more than a pitchfork in their hands.

"Buri would assist me." A sideways look. "We wouldn't take boys and girls as young as the pages, though. Fourteen or fifteen years of age should do."

Thayet smiles prettily.

Jon nods as he listens, not missing the amount of information that shows how she has carefully planned this conversation.

He gives a light snort. "I'm sure Buri would leap at the opportunity." He returns her look. "Boys and girls?"

Thayet replies without missing a beat. "Yes."

And why not? her eyes seem to ask.

Jon holds up his hands placatingly, heading off her question before she can speak it.

"You know that I am well aware of the capabilities of women in combat. I'm just not sure the council is going to agree."

"You're the king, not them. Their counsel is appreciated, but you have the final word."

She rests a hand on his cheek and watches him closely.

"It's my enterprise. If it fails, the blame should be laid at my feet, not yours. I'm sure there is something we can provide them in return for their understanding and support."

Jon takes her hand and holds it firmly.

"No. This is our enterprise. Everything we do, we do together."

He purses his lips, thinking.

Thayet smiles. He's very handsome when he thinks, and surely no man is as clever or good-natured.

(She'd probably say very differently had he argued.)

Quietly: "What about doing as Alanna wishes?" The Lioness has made no secret of her quest -- demands, really -- to make it so girls can train for knighthood. "One without the other would feel wrong. And the Council wouldn't pay much attention to the Riders while you fight a fight I think you've been planning on fighting anyway."

Jon looks up at her, a smile growing on his face. He reaches over and pulls Thayet into a warm kiss.

"You, my lady, are a genius." He releases her and grins. "I think that is an excellent idea. Hit them with so many ideas at once they won't know which way their head is turning."

He tugs on a strand of her hair. "You have a wicked streak. It is probably why I love you so much."

"Did Buri not tell you that before we were married?" Thayet laughs, voice low and clear, and leans in for another kiss. "But probably that is one of many, many reasons."

He should feel free to list the others, if he is so inclined.

"You would have thought of it eventually," she adds after a moment, smile confident and gaze loving. "I've simply had a great deal of time to consider the issue while you've been busy feeding and protecting our people."

Jon shakes his head, teasing her lips with his.

"You've been working and worrying about them just as much as me. You are just as intelligent as you are beautiful."

He pulls back just enough to say, "So, we'll bring this before the council next week?"

"Yes," she agrees. "It promises to be anything but dull."

Business complete, Thayet lets her eyes go misty at the compliments. She presses a kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, and offers a hand as she stands.

"Come to bed," she whispers softly. "Those border reports will still be there tomorrow, and I'm reluctant to let you resume studying them."

Jon grins and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Yes," he agrees, "they most certainly can."

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