Written for treanzalyce, as a reward for her work with Piercefic. And a temporary birthday present.
She requested the characters, and I never saw Gary giving in as easily as everybody else.
Dear Cythera,
The capital is a dreary place without its brightest beauty.
I find myself taking on more of Father's caseload to distract myself from the fact that you aren't here.
"Gareth, the Eternal Youngster," a voice announced, cutting through his crossings out. "How are you faring today?"
Gary felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He squared his shoulders against a shudder. "If you want to get on my good side, Roger, that is not the best way to start."
Bring your mother back to Corus, so you have no reason to leave again.
"So hostile? You and I used to be close, Gary. What happened?"
"We are close, Roger," Gary muttered, scrawling out the last line heavily in case she took him seriously. He could deal with Cythera being absent for a fortnight every so often, if it meant he didn't have to put up with her mother constantly. "You're standing right behind me."
Roger chuckled appreciatively. "You haven't changed."
Hadn't he? He thought Cythera had improved him a great deal, softening his sharper edges. He thought taking on some of Father's work had given him gravity, responsibility. He thought at least he had better dress sense.
"You have," Gary responded childishly. "I don't recall you ever stinking like rotten meat left out in the sun before."
Gwynnen urged me to send her love to you. Apparently she's found new prey, which is presumably why she could not send it herself.
He put a line through the last sentence. Softer edges.
"The brave Sir Gary of Naxen has no need for the precautions that wiser and more powerful men are taking around me, I see," Roger observed, still sounding amused.
"The Queen is my father's sister," Gary spat, finally twisting to face the formerly deceased duke.
Roger shrugged at him. "I came back powerless."
"Your powers didn't do that alone."
He could have sworn that Roger smirked at him then, but it was replaced the next second by a contrite look. "I hope you may one day find it in yourself to forgive me. I'll leave you to finish your letter to your sweetheart."
Gary scowled at the door as it closed behind the duke. He reached for a fresh piece of parchment, and managed to get from salutation to signature without hesitation this time.
Dear Cythera,
It grieves me to inform you that Corus is suffering from a plague of mice. I understand if you do not wish to leave your mother quite yet, but am eternally,
yours,
Gareth.
