There's no offense taken at her loose hold and he relinquishes her arm as soon as they pass the threshold of his home in respect of her boundaries. The tour is quick and he ends it by the bedroom with the attached bathroom.
"It is that," he replies, a touch amused. That isn't the first thought that would have come to his mind, but he's unfamiliar with the living conditions of 19th century India. "I can show you how to work the shower if you wish to do that now. You'll have the bed." While he took the couch out in the main room. With no family to speak of, having a guest room had never been a priority. Suddenly he's seeing the merits of having one prepared.
"I've been sodden for months." As if that somehow explained it all. Easily forgotten if she means to say more to follow after him. It's - it's different, and then not at all. It's a space where someone lives and to that, it's better than a lot of people she knew or even what they would call standard for anyone she knew. But it is his space, and it is comfortable, even if it is bear, it is lived in. The little touches and knocks that living causes. Absorbs half of what he says, a lot of it going over her head as her exhaustion just steadily caught up with her.
Later, she'll fight him about the bed. She'll say that it isn't worth him giving her that for an undetermined amount of time. But right now - ? "Whatever I can use to wash the blood off, first."
He nods and leads the way to the bathroom. It takes him a moment to show her how the shower controls work and he's quickly easing himself out of the bathroom to grant her privacy. "I'll leave fresh clothing on the bed," he says in parting. More fatigues, his pair this time. Tomorrow she'd have more civilian-esque attire once Imperial Security had clothing made for her measurements. It would draw a lot less attention than having her walk around in fatigues.
The rest he would have to figure out later. One step at a time.
Clothing laid out neatly, he abandons the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and heads into the kitchen to both clean and start making dinner. The one night he should have gotten takeout on the way home. It wasn't too late to order it, but he could make something simple enough for the two of them.
She can't help it, at least a little, when he lets her into bathroom - she snoops. Opening draws and cupboards as she gets out of her clothes. Mouthing through the letters in English and - French? Others, that she can't speak. Russian, Greek, from the way the letters looked. Trying to work out by herself what this and what that is. Then putting it mostly back where she found it to the best of her memory.
The shower is trickier, as she heads towards it. Getting out of the clothes he'd given her and her own blood soaked silks.
Which is all very grand until she lets out an undignified yelp when she turns the water up to hot, alright, maybe she would believe him when he said it got warm. Hisses something long and unsavory in Hindi before she lets herself step in again. It's not - right, or rather, it's not a bath and it's not her ladies coming through her hair and rubbing oils into her skin but - it's water and she watches the water run off her body. Looks over old scars and her new ones. Some of that blood was hers.
But he didn't need to know how much that was. The blackwater doesn't leave her neck even now.
Then it's more snooping, into draws and digging through his other clothes as politely as possible. Letting her fingers run over the material, inspecting it idly for it's quality. Well made as what she had been given. A great deal of will not to just lay on that bed for awhile. To just give up for just a minute to sleep, to sleep and not wake up for hours upon hours. But he was being a gracious host to her demands, that she gets dressed and drags herself the rest of the way. Cleaner, now, hair sodden and braided neatly, but clearer without the blood on her face, under her nails. Wagers at least mercy to him, she no longer reeks of blood and sweat and dirt, and that awful tang of stomach bile where she had slashed the Lycan's belly open.
Now just - whatever he smelt like. Whatever it was that she'd found in one bottle on the cupboard. Warm, she liked it she supposed. Even if it wasn't as fine as the perfume makers. It suited him, she fancied. A rulers careful measurement of those around her that tucks that away as well.
When she pads back out, it's on bare feet with quiet footsteps to see where he was. The fatigues looser on her, had to fold them up to make sure they didn't get in her way. Finds him - cooking? "What are you doing?"
Fortunately for her, he's within Imperial Security and not Ops. While some might be offended once they found one piece out of place, he's come to believe her story enough that a stranger out of place and unfamiliar with everything would seek to understand her surroundings. Which meant his bedroom would be fair game. Anything security sensitive wasn't in his bedroom, only his wristcom and a datapad he kept for reports were used for work and were either on him or in the living room.
Beyond his work, his life was fairly simple. Or at least he tried to keep it that way since his father's death. That chapter of his life, messy as it had been, was closed permanently now and he preferred it that way.
At her reentrance, he merely glances up from the risotto he's making and raises a brow. "I'm making dinner. I thought you would enjoy a fresh meal before sleeping."
"You cook." It made sense of course, no mother, no sisters, no wife. He must have some skill of his own in order to survive.
She walks up a little closer and it - smells good. Different, but she didn't mind. Coming to hover like she couldn't quite believe that he really was cooking. But there he stood, doing just that and she smiles for it at least a little. "I would that, I haven't eaten for days. Not properly, at least."
"I do." He watches her for a moment, confused at her fascination with it. Perhaps her time was more like Barrayar than he had realized. Men here hardly cooked though that was changing slowly. Miles had a rude awakening himself when he settled into Vorkosigan House without basic survival skills.
He motions to a spoon he has laid out should she want to sample the risotto herself. "By all means. You're welcome to try it."
She comes up closer to him, that prickling feeling still of being a stranger in someone else's house that settles in about. His constant invitations help, though, let her feel if not settled then not a complete burden to him. "Thank you."
Polite to her last, as she goes to do just that, old habits, still ingrained that she takes spoons up some rice to try, immediately covering her mouth as she does so. Her eyes down as she tastes it, before she looks up again. "It's good."
Ah, good. He had been worried it wouldn't be to her taste. "It should be ready shortly. I don't have much to drink with it beyond water, milk, and beer."
He hadn't expected to entertain or he would have stocked his fridge better. At least he had done his grocery shopping before her unexpected arrival on his doorstep.
That - honestly, is a shockingly normal selection given everything else she's seen. "Milk is... I would prefer that honestly." It's said with a laugh as she sets the spoon back down again. Maybe there are things she'd do with the meal, and things she would do with milk, too, but as it goes - it's easy.
"No. You can wait at the dining table if you would like. I'll bring everything out when it's finished." Including a glass of milk for her. If he's to play host then he will damn well do it well. He motions vaguely in the direction of the small dining space he has before turning his attention back to cooking. It wouldn't take much longer before he finished.
She moves away and there are more things to look at, that distract her in the short line from the kitchen to the dining room. At least, where she's being watched, she doesn't pry at it too much or get too thorough in moving anything about. Her hands firmly kept to herself. It's enough to help her stay awake at least.
Then she takes her seat, hands settled in her lap. Politely waiting and she keeps quiet for a moment to just let him cook. "Normally men without wives are quite at the mercy of their relatives. You seem perfectly adjusted. Is that normal too?"
He's content to cook in silence though once she speaks, he's turned enough towards her so his answer is unmuffled.
"I would hope so. I've been on my own for some time now." Since his youth. The circumstances of his planet hadn't allowed for a normal childhood or adulthood for that matter. But he'd made the best of it. When the risotto finishes, he plates it and begins bringing out both plates of food and drinks for them both.
"Not with your family? Do they live nearby instead?"
It's tricky to get her head around. To living so separately, to being cut off. It doesn't feel right. Palaces were teeming with people and she seldom slept entirely alone, not then, and not since, either. Once it had been with her ladies simply in the room, and since then, it was huddled together for whatever warmth could be afforded. But here he was so... cut off. Without people in any regard.
"Orphan," he answers simply. It's a fact he's come to terms with long ago. She's shared enough about herself that he's willing to offer a piece of personal history as an offering. Hopefully it'd make her more willing to share later. "My brother and father died when I was fifteen, my mother shortly after."
Not the entire truth though close enough to it. Whatever was left of his father had died that day as far as he was concerned.
"I am sorry to hear it." Something shifts, watching him. Her mouth pulling briefly. No wonder he lived so bare, so simply. She doesn't have stretch far on that, even if a family should take in an orphan, it didn't mean that would happen. So often they were just left and turned away as one more mouth to feed.
"You have done well yourself, despite it?" To the best of her knowledge she thought so.
He raises a brow at that as he finally takes his seat at the table with her. Food and drinks served, he ignores them for now and directs his full attention to her.
"Better than I would have if I were to follow my father's path," he answers. His family had been close to what passed for Komarran nobility and what had been left of it was thrown away after Barrayar's invasion of his planet. It had unfortunately worked out for the best with where he's ended up.
"I doubt you traveled this far to hear a random officer's story." There's sarcasm in his tone. She hardly chose to be here much less who she stayed with for the time being.
The prayer she breathes over the food is quick, a nod in thanks of it, and to him for making it for her. Slow, carefully mannered as she begins to eat. That oddness still, but even so, it's easier with him eating as well. A little less focused that way.
"No, not a random officer. You are apparently my keeper now. Should we not know each other a little?" It's teasing, not to drag him through something uncomfortable. "Perhaps an exchange would be easier? You ask something, and then I do."
He starts eating shortly after she does out of a politeness to ensure she's not eating alone. Normally he doesn't eat this close after dinner, but today had been exceptional and she needed the food.
"I don't intend to keep anyone," he says with a shake of his head. He had to watch her, but he wouldn't keep her confined against her will. Her suggestion however is more agreeable. "It would be fair. What about your own family?"
"I have been blessed with a large one, who has ever been good to me, whether I was born into it or married to." Another mouthful, swallowed quickly and when she smiles, her eyes crinkle with that warmth, genuine for once. There was nothing she held so dear as family, once upon a time. But for now, she lets that be all there. Remove the beginning from the end, and let that be enough to keep her gaze steady. " - So then, ah, my father was Moropant Tambe, and my mother was Bhagirathi. She died when I was very young. After that, my father went into service with the Peshwa -" hovers, and then translate that as best she can back to him. "- the military prime minister I suppose you would call it, of the Marathi Empire. I am Marathi as well, by birth and marriage. Though we were one among his dependants, he treated me like his own family, sometimes."
She takes a drink as she goes, small sips. "My husband was the Maharaja Gangadhar Rao Newalker, and when we married, I was very young and his family did their best to make me feel part of their home as well as help me grow into being Queen myself. We had two sons, one I bore myself, and when he passed, another we adopted." There's no hesitation, she doesn't consider an adopted child not the same. Arnand was as much her son as Damodar was. Both in law and in her affection for him.
Even if the reality of it was more complicated than that. She pauses there, watching him to make sure she hasn't somehow confused him with all that information. "Not too much so far?"
Names and titles he's unfamiliar with, but he practices the pronunciation a in his head as she continues. Eventually he would get them though it might take some time. He's still listening intently when she paused and he shakes his head.
"Not at all. I was a historian in my previous life before I joined the military," he confessed. "I dabble when time permits. This time or place isn't my specialty, but I am interested to hear all you would share."
However much that would be. He motions for her to continue as he slowly continues his breakfast.
In her own effort, as polite as she's being, she's inhaling the food, it steadily disappearing off the plate in one mouthful after another. It's anything she could want, in the end, it's warm and filling and enough of it that she can't go hungry with it.
His work though, that lifts her eyebrows. "A historian and a Queen, sir, I think you might be my only natural enemy." Not so seriously meant, laughed away comfortably. "Well, as long as it's not too much."
She drinks, another sip. Placing where she was up to on her too large family - "When I married, my father married again, his bride and I were near to the same age, so she was more a sister than a new mother in some regards." She laughs to that - what a relief Chimabai had been to her, at times. "She had a son, my own brother, as it follows, but I did not - " a grimace. " - well, war, it takes its toll in many ways."
As much as needs to be said, she thinks. That part is easy to follow. "My husband's family - well, there was quite a bit of it. Too many to say for now, but we had many dependents."
He almost laughs at her initial comment though the words that follow have him regarding her more seriously. As much as he's studied Barrayar's strange feudal history, it's not something he's ever wanted to truly live through. To have it be considered normal that one's father would marry someone the same age as their daughter is horrifying in a time of required body births and arranged marriages. He wonders what the woman thought of the relationship and family she became part of.
He catches the grimace and frowns. "My sympathies." Hollow words when one has lost much to events outside of their control. "Did you all live together?"
With as close-knit as they sounded, he wouldn't be surprised.
"Of course, what else are palaces but built for such thing? No one lives alone in them. You do not have hundreds of rooms if you do not intend them to fill them." She tries not to tease too much, it seemed obvious to her, but then - he lived here, in a small series of rooms by himself. That seemed normal to him, as much as living together was normal to her. "I had my own quarters, as did my husband, his mother as well." Obviously none for this father.
Ruling came with one cost, after all.
"Though there was some things kept apart. In my home, we keep Purdah or the practice of keeping women separate and veiled in public spaces, so in some regards, we had more space than poorer familes, or as I did when I was a child."
She drums her fingers a moment. There were other things too - "My father did not want to be too far from me, and he was Brahmin -" another pause, another explanation. The way of it that becomes clear, life as she had known it was a complicated layering of meaning and position. "Of the priestly caste. So my husband granted him land on which he built a temple to the God Vishnu, and he lived there, rather than in the palace. But he would be at the palace with me just as often." She smiles again. She clearly remembers it well, happily, warmly. Enough that when she finally is done eating and settles back it's still there. "This is very... solitary, in comparison. I could not imagine life without many people near me, all the time. Whether they be servants, my ladies or my family."
Tries to say it as mildly as possible, she did not want to offend him after all.
He tries to imagine life in a bustling palace. Any visits to the Imperial Residence had been for business only and even then Emperor Gregor Vorbarra had no close, blood family to speak of that would live there with him. Most of those there would be the Vorbarra armsmen and the servants with sparingly few nobility that had nowhere else to call home in the city of Vorbarr Sultana.
A very different life, particularly if women were treated as such in public spaces. Barrayar at least had not gone that far.
"Battle is not counted as a public space then?" he questions. She certainly hadn't come in shrouded from anyone on looking. "I admit, I'm used to smaller accommodations and people packed in closer. Barrayar has more space than the domed cities of Komarr."
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"It is that," he replies, a touch amused. That isn't the first thought that would have come to his mind, but he's unfamiliar with the living conditions of 19th century India. "I can show you how to work the shower if you wish to do that now. You'll have the bed." While he took the couch out in the main room. With no family to speak of, having a guest room had never been a priority. Suddenly he's seeing the merits of having one prepared.
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Later, she'll fight him about the bed. She'll say that it isn't worth him giving her that for an undetermined amount of time. But right now - ? "Whatever I can use to wash the blood off, first."
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The rest he would have to figure out later. One step at a time.
Clothing laid out neatly, he abandons the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and heads into the kitchen to both clean and start making dinner. The one night he should have gotten takeout on the way home. It wasn't too late to order it, but he could make something simple enough for the two of them.
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The shower is trickier, as she heads towards it. Getting out of the clothes he'd given her and her own blood soaked silks.
Which is all very grand until she lets out an undignified yelp when she turns the water up to hot, alright, maybe she would believe him when he said it got warm. Hisses something long and unsavory in Hindi before she lets herself step in again. It's not - right, or rather, it's not a bath and it's not her ladies coming through her hair and rubbing oils into her skin but - it's water and she watches the water run off her body. Looks over old scars and her new ones. Some of that blood was hers.
But he didn't need to know how much that was. The blackwater doesn't leave her neck even now.
Then it's more snooping, into draws and digging through his other clothes as politely as possible. Letting her fingers run over the material, inspecting it idly for it's quality. Well made as what she had been given. A great deal of will not to just lay on that bed for awhile. To just give up for just a minute to sleep, to sleep and not wake up for hours upon hours. But he was being a gracious host to her demands, that she gets dressed and drags herself the rest of the way. Cleaner, now, hair sodden and braided neatly, but clearer without the blood on her face, under her nails. Wagers at least mercy to him, she no longer reeks of blood and sweat and dirt, and that awful tang of stomach bile where she had slashed the Lycan's belly open.
Now just - whatever he smelt like. Whatever it was that she'd found in one bottle on the cupboard. Warm, she liked it she supposed. Even if it wasn't as fine as the perfume makers. It suited him, she fancied. A rulers careful measurement of those around her that tucks that away as well.
When she pads back out, it's on bare feet with quiet footsteps to see where he was. The fatigues looser on her, had to fold them up to make sure they didn't get in her way. Finds him - cooking? "What are you doing?"
It's bemused, more than anything.
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Beyond his work, his life was fairly simple. Or at least he tried to keep it that way since his father's death. That chapter of his life, messy as it had been, was closed permanently now and he preferred it that way.
At her reentrance, he merely glances up from the risotto he's making and raises a brow. "I'm making dinner. I thought you would enjoy a fresh meal before sleeping."
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She walks up a little closer and it - smells good. Different, but she didn't mind. Coming to hover like she couldn't quite believe that he really was cooking. But there he stood, doing just that and she smiles for it at least a little. "I would that, I haven't eaten for days. Not properly, at least."
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He motions to a spoon he has laid out should she want to sample the risotto herself. "By all means. You're welcome to try it."
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Polite to her last, as she goes to do just that, old habits, still ingrained that she takes spoons up some rice to try, immediately covering her mouth as she does so. Her eyes down as she tastes it, before she looks up again. "It's good."
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He hadn't expected to entertain or he would have stocked his fridge better. At least he had done his grocery shopping before her unexpected arrival on his doorstep.
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"Is there anything you require of me?"
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Then she takes her seat, hands settled in her lap. Politely waiting and she keeps quiet for a moment to just let him cook. "Normally men without wives are quite at the mercy of their relatives. You seem perfectly adjusted. Is that normal too?"
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"I would hope so. I've been on my own for some time now." Since his youth. The circumstances of his planet hadn't allowed for a normal childhood or adulthood for that matter. But he'd made the best of it. When the risotto finishes, he plates it and begins bringing out both plates of food and drinks for them both.
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It's tricky to get her head around. To living so separately, to being cut off. It doesn't feel right. Palaces were teeming with people and she seldom slept entirely alone, not then, and not since, either. Once it had been with her ladies simply in the room, and since then, it was huddled together for whatever warmth could be afforded. But here he was so... cut off. Without people in any regard.
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Not the entire truth though close enough to it. Whatever was left of his father had died that day as far as he was concerned.
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"You have done well yourself, despite it?" To the best of her knowledge she thought so.
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"Better than I would have if I were to follow my father's path," he answers. His family had been close to what passed for Komarran nobility and what had been left of it was thrown away after Barrayar's invasion of his planet. It had unfortunately worked out for the best with where he's ended up.
"I doubt you traveled this far to hear a random officer's story." There's sarcasm in his tone. She hardly chose to be here much less who she stayed with for the time being.
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"No, not a random officer. You are apparently my keeper now. Should we not know each other a little?" It's teasing, not to drag him through something uncomfortable. "Perhaps an exchange would be easier? You ask something, and then I do."
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"I don't intend to keep anyone," he says with a shake of his head. He had to watch her, but he wouldn't keep her confined against her will. Her suggestion however is more agreeable. "It would be fair. What about your own family?"
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She takes a drink as she goes, small sips. "My husband was the Maharaja Gangadhar Rao Newalker, and when we married, I was very young and his family did their best to make me feel part of their home as well as help me grow into being Queen myself. We had two sons, one I bore myself, and when he passed, another we adopted." There's no hesitation, she doesn't consider an adopted child not the same. Arnand was as much her son as Damodar was. Both in law and in her affection for him.
Even if the reality of it was more complicated than that. She pauses there, watching him to make sure she hasn't somehow confused him with all that information. "Not too much so far?"
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"Not at all. I was a historian in my previous life before I joined the military," he confessed. "I dabble when time permits. This time or place isn't my specialty, but I am interested to hear all you would share."
However much that would be. He motions for her to continue as he slowly continues his breakfast.
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His work though, that lifts her eyebrows. "A historian and a Queen, sir, I think you might be my only natural enemy." Not so seriously meant, laughed away comfortably. "Well, as long as it's not too much."
She drinks, another sip. Placing where she was up to on her too large family - "When I married, my father married again, his bride and I were near to the same age, so she was more a sister than a new mother in some regards." She laughs to that - what a relief Chimabai had been to her, at times. "She had a son, my own brother, as it follows, but I did not - " a grimace. " - well, war, it takes its toll in many ways."
As much as needs to be said, she thinks. That part is easy to follow. "My husband's family - well, there was quite a bit of it. Too many to say for now, but we had many dependents."
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He catches the grimace and frowns. "My sympathies." Hollow words when one has lost much to events outside of their control. "Did you all live together?"
With as close-knit as they sounded, he wouldn't be surprised.
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Ruling came with one cost, after all.
"Though there was some things kept apart. In my home, we keep Purdah or the practice of keeping women separate and veiled in public spaces, so in some regards, we had more space than poorer familes, or as I did when I was a child."
She drums her fingers a moment. There were other things too - "My father did not want to be too far from me, and he was Brahmin -" another pause, another explanation. The way of it that becomes clear, life as she had known it was a complicated layering of meaning and position. "Of the priestly caste. So my husband granted him land on which he built a temple to the God Vishnu, and he lived there, rather than in the palace. But he would be at the palace with me just as often." She smiles again. She clearly remembers it well, happily, warmly. Enough that when she finally is done eating and settles back it's still there. "This is very... solitary, in comparison. I could not imagine life without many people near me, all the time. Whether they be servants, my ladies or my family."
Tries to say it as mildly as possible, she did not want to offend him after all.
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A very different life, particularly if women were treated as such in public spaces. Barrayar at least had not gone that far.
"Battle is not counted as a public space then?" he questions. She certainly hadn't come in shrouded from anyone on looking. "I admit, I'm used to smaller accommodations and people packed in closer. Barrayar has more space than the domed cities of Komarr."
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