video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[vorrutyer]

[ Unlike any of Byerly’s previous posts, which consisted of him monologuing interminably, this post looks to be a dialogue. There are actually two people on screen - Byerly’s lanky, elegant, sloe-eyed self, and next to him a small odd-looking fellow with intense features and a too-large head set on a hunched spine. For all the differences between them, though, the two look like they could be brothers, or at least cousins - similar noses, similar bone structure, similar skin tone, similar hair color. Ah, the products of Barrayaran inbreeding.

You can tell who set up the camera by the framing. Byerly is centered, and sitting at an angle that best shows off his fine features. Miles Vorkosigan, the small fellow, is squished off into a corner of the frame. By is the first to speak, too. ]

Bonsoir, lovely fellows and ladies. Your bosom friend and brother Byerly here with an important announcement. Though you have known me as His Imperial Majesty Byerly II of Barrayar, now I’m just plain By, because my position has been usurped. [ A fake mournful sigh. ] Brutal civil war. Deadly. Horrible. I’ve been dealt a monstrous blow.

[ Miles, meanwhile, just kind of rolls his eyes skyward. Spare him from his cousin’s melodrama. ] If by “usurped” you mean “assumed rightful authority,” then yes. I usurped you. With little resistance, I might add. [ A pause; he straightens his small frame as best he can - not that it’s especially effective given the camera angle. ] Did you really go around calling yourself His Imperial Majesty Byerly II?

But of course. [ Byerly blinks in mock-innocence. ] Sire, don’t tell me that you don’t see the Imperial office as worthy of respect. I was simply demanding the dignity due to the camp stool.

Is it more dignified to lose it to a civil war too? [ Miles arches a brow in turn. ] I could fight you, I suppose.

Oh, please don’t do that, sire. [ By’s expression is a reasonable approximation of pained. ] I don’t want to hurt you. He’s very fragile, you see. [ The last is said conspiratorially to the audience, as though Miles couldn’t hear. And, swiftly, before he can be executed for treason - ] So I wished to introduce my dear sometime-cousin and current-overlord to the network, as a grand announcement of an enormous life change, and an announcement that I will of course be hosting a coronation party for him.

-- What?

[ There’s not even the slightest twinkle of amusement in Byerly’s face; he looks perfectly solemn as he explains - ]

It is, of course, customary for those invited to a coronation to bring gifts of tribute. I would not presume to speak for my lord Emperor, but I might suggest gifts of alcohol. Or something a little harder than alcohol? A fellow does grow tired of only being drunk, and the Emperor is quite a fan of stimulants, which is why you’ll hear him babble endlessly, all the time. Would that suit you, sire?

[ Miles has been working his mouth like a frog in the background this whole time; he still sputters a moment, staring at Byerly in disbelief. ] I never agreed to a party, By -- [ He interrupts himself with a beautiful stream of cursing in Greek. ] For god’s sake, that won’t be necessary.

[ Loudly, speaking over his Emperor - ] That sounds like a yes to me! I’ll see you all tomorrow night. [ And with a wink, he cuts the feed. ]


[ ooc: blue is Byerly, red is Miles ]

Comments

[vorrutyer]

I'm fairly certain that Miles is a virgin. He hasn't fucked for anyone, let alone an army.

[ Ah, the perils of texting. ]

[summertimeblues]

Things I never wanted to know: Exhibit A

[vorrutyer]

You were the one who discussed his fucking habits.

[summertimeblues]

it's a damn expression not a literal demand for crotch hop history

[vorrutyer]

Honestly, you should be apologizing to me for making me consider his sexual history.

[summertimeblues]

if i suffer you suffer

[vorrutyer]

That's simply sadistic.

[summertimeblues]

that's the way the cookie crumbles, chum

anyway, congrats to you too I guess. more carousing time, someone who understands what the fuck you're on about. you must be pleased as peaches.

[vorrutyer]

On the contrary. Without the grandeur of emperorship, there's nothing at all to me. I'm just a common drunk now. Alas.

[summertimeblues]

is the emperor going to foot his loyal subject's tab or will he tax it out of spite

[vorrutyer]

If you're asking that, you're clearly unfamiliar with how governments work.

[summertimeblues]

i thought the perk of autocracy was doing whatever the fuck you pleased

He ought to take a share out of spite if nothing else

[vorrutyer]

Spite - for what reason? Because of my vile personality? My dear coz knows my personality well - I've been sweetly teasing him since we were both boys. If he didn't want me as a subject, he wouldn't have accepted my oath.

[summertimeblues]

and isn't it high time he paid you back for it? Looks like the teasing's been pretty one-sided. Everybody loves an underdog story

[vorrutyer]

The boy is the rightful emperor, and you're conceiving of him as an underdog?

[summertimeblues]

he wasn't emperor until now, was he? This is the part where the meek inherit the earth.

[vorrutyer]

His father is Prime Minister. His grandfather liberated Barrayar from a foreign invasion. His mother is a mad murderess who took the heads off more than one head of state. Suffice to say the boy doesn't have a meek bone in his body - even if those unmeek bones are rather miniature.

[summertimeblues]

not to be an asshole, but are you really telling me he never suffered for those bones of his

wasn't your home pretty brutal warrior grounds, might is right, etc etc

[vorrutyer]

[ ...Well, now that he thinks about it. Maybe. But Miles is just so arrogant and superior that it couldn't have been very much. Someone who turns out that ostentatiously confident couldn't really have had that bad a go of it - right? ]

With that family name? I do quite doubt it. I expect the boy took bodyguards with him out into the play-yard.

[summertimeblues]

No amount of money can erase the shit that makes you stick out like a sore thumb. bet no one was so respectful once his back was turned.

[vorrutyer]

[ That thought makes him rather uncomfortable - because of all the nasty comments made about Miles, his were some of the nastiest - and so, a little defensively: ]

Aren't you a warm and fuzzy mama bear all of a sudden.

[summertimeblues]

I don't have much time for shitheaded bullies, is all.

[Mikey's dog had died because he was black, the only kid in town with skin darker than a farmer's tan. Ben got sliced up because he was fat and he was smart. Bill got pushed around for a stutter. Stan got his face washed bloody for being Jewish. Eddie's nose got smashed up for being a sickly, asthmatic vessel of frailty. Beverly took shots from the other girls for being poor, took hits from her old man just for being under his roof. Richie'd taken lumps, had his glasses snapped and his ears boxed and eyes blackened for being a four-eyed, skinny, buck-toothed loudmouth.

Yeah, he'll be a momma bear. Better than a cowardly bruiser.]

[vorrutyer]

And I'm a bully, am I?

[ It shouldn't be an odd concept, of course. Byerly is notorious for his acid tongue. Hell, he's quite nearly feared for it. But...Well, it's certainly not any sort of defense mechanism, but it's always been the way he's gotten his back. Back when Richars was snapping his fingers and then talking with hushed mock-sincerity about how that old horse was just so vicious, stepping on poor By's hand like that...a bit of nastiness was the only way he could get his back. And then he was a skinny queer penniless thing mincing his way though high society, living off the generosity of others. He only ate if he amused people. And what, now he's a bully? Towards Miles Vorkosigan, who's had the full weight of the Vorkosigan legacy behind him all his life? Like hell. Miles might be shriveled and ugly, but saying that Byerly was bullying him would be like saying the ocean bullied the cliffside. ]

I'm the Emperor's most loyal servant, dear Richmond.

[summertimeblues]

[Being not quite so clever or adept at reading between the lines as Byerly (though you'd have to put him in the Iron Maiden to get him to cop to it), Richie has to take a few reads before deciding what he wants to say.

That Miles would have suffered for his deformities is not one bit debatable. High society had the same bite as lowbrow heathens, they just nibbled at different bits. Maybe the kid didn't see the backs of too many knuckles, but he knows he's right enough about the mockery and the snide asides.

Byerly, on the other hand...they had a lot in common, didn't they? Richie's mouth ran for the puerile and the ludicrous, Byerly ran for one-ups and sugar-coated barbs. He'd had his fingers crunched as a kid by a twisted cousin. He'd been gay (or rather, batted for both teams) in a world populated by he-man, peck-flexing brutes. He had looked honest to god terrified in the stasis unit when Richie had found him weak with drink, found him among his family.

That had been covered for so smoothly too. In the hours after they'd eaten together it occurred to him how obvious it was. The disdain and non-chalance were ruses. This was a man who protected himself, protected the few he coveted with clever words and run-arounds. Airs of me-no-care. He wasn't shy about nicking other people with that knife-like tongue of his, but he may have never learned to do so if he hadn't been kicked around first.

Bully? When it suited him, maybe. But that wasn't the whole of his nature. Couldn't be.]

You're a pest, not a plague. It's clear you're not bosom buddies but if you're sitting together exchanging repartee I doubt things came to blows.

I'm just saying it's probably his turn to get a little ribbing in. Put down your dukes Cool Hand Luke, I wasn't accusing you of anything.

[vorrutyer]

[ What does he care if Richie diagnoses him like that? Not a bully. The man's estimation doesn't matter more than any other's. And what does he care if he is some monster? He isn't striving to be some saint - hell, he's not even trying to be a good man. Yet even so, By can feel something ease in the pit of his stomach at that assessment. Not a bully. Or at least not a plague.

So, after a little moment: ]

Just you wait, dear Richard, and see just how much ribbing he can get in. I've made it a lifelong policy not to duel a man who comes unarmed to a battle of wits. Shall we say that His Majesty's weaponry is impressive indeed.