Dara

Reunion: Martin & Dara, part 1

A game log from A Grand Affair
includes Martin, Dara, Benedict

She is suddenly there: Benedict saying, "Our felicity is added to by an old friend." This is Martin's introduction to her visit.

It is not kind, but Benedict's sense of humor appears to be of the dry and wry sort. (That is: he laughs, Martin and Dara have both seen this, it is a silent laugh, the mouth parts slightly, the eyes become more intent and focused, and he sips the air several times in succession.) This is something of a comfort to those who have truly spent good times with the man.

To which Martin can only respond, after a moment of sheer flat-footedness, by taking Dara's hand, if it's available, and bowing over it. "It is, of course, my pleasure to renew the acquaintance."

Dara's gamine and genuine smile breaks out, creasing the corners of eyes that hold more shadows than the last time he saw her. She does not stand on formality, turning her hand in his and squeezing. "I'm glad to see a friend." Her glance at Benedict sparkles with pleasure and thanks.

"I am as well. It's been a few years," Martin says. His own look at Benedict is all good-natured ease, despite being the object of today's amusement.

Dara lets her hands slip from Martin's. Her expression is wry as she says, "I haven't exactly been in a position to visit. Or have visitors.". Her lively expression is shadowed again.

"I didn't know," says Martin, looking concerned, and perhaps a touch befuddled. "Merlin hadn't said anything." He looks like he might say something more for a moment, but decides not to, and falls silent.

"Merlin." Dara's voice is a mere whisper, and she pales rapidly, her face going bloodless white.

Benedict is still, though his presence is strongly there in the moment. He seems more sure of Martin in this moment, as his attention is quite strongly on Dara as she pales.

The warmaster of Amber moves slightly--his fingertips caressing the top edge of his belt buckle. This small movement one that Martin has seen many times when his uncle is wholly absorbed in speeding thoughts.

She stiffens, her chin raised in a stubborn set, and says tightly, "Merlin would not know." It sounds as if the words come from a throat that is more closed than open. She crosses her arms across her chest, unconsciously defensive. "How... is... Merlin?"

Martin shoots Ben a look that says "what am I missing?".

Benedict is ready and meeting Martin's eyes when the look comes--anticipated. There is, in return, a small gesture of Benedict's left hand, a trembling flutter of the fingertips against that same buckle: a signal. 'Here are rough waters, ride on through, hang on tight.'

"Um, he was fine the last time I talked to him. Told me all about his most recent visit to his father."

Dara winces.

Martin makes a slight, possibly involuntary, face. "Had an OK time," he adds.

Benedict waits for something now, again watching Dara.

"Oh." She walks away and sinks down into the nearest chair, slumping and falling completely silent.

Something having arrived, Benedict speaks without hesitation in measured fashion, perhaps in contrast to the strong currents of mystery swirling about. His eyes track between Martin and Dara, even as Dara does not seem to notice. "We have time to make a reasonable effort to debrief unreasonable events. I shall provide the points of interest with your permission, Dara. Martin needs to know what has occupied your time for the last several years. I advise this, as he can be your stave--if your journey back to Amber has precarious footing."

Martin remains silent, but looks to Dara.

Dara looks up. Color has returned to her face, and she is composed again, looking more herself. Her hands are clasped in her lap, fingers tightly woven together to a point that looks almost painful. She glances at Martin, then back to Benedict, and nods silently.

Martin turns his gaze back to his uncle.

Benedict does not nod, and more pointedly to Martin he has his 'General face' on. What is coming next would seem to be official business.

"Merlin does not know Dara is here because he does not know she has been missing at all. The 'Dara' that raised Merlin and has acted the role of his mother is his maternal grandmother--of House Hendrake. Dara the Elder is the mind behind much of the tactical plotting of Hendrake and Helgram and other Chaos Houses with Brand and his plans for removing Oberon from the throne."

Martin starts to say something, thinks better of it, and nods once.

Benedict uses his hands expressively, the left hand flits when he speaks of Dara the Elder, the right gestures when he mentions the younger Dara present now--so that over time, his meaning becomes more and more clear despite the tangle of identities.

"The Dara you knew, Martin, was imprisoned in HendrakeWays immediately upon her return to Chaos at the end of PatternFall. Certain clues became clear to me a year after those events, and upon careful investigation, I discovered that Merlin's 'mother' had pressed a case of treason against an unnamed Chaos officer for her part in freeing Oberon from those efforts to hold him."

Benedict understates the rest. "After some planning, too long in the making, I was able to enter Chaos and extract Lady Dara from confinement and bring her to our own side of Ygg. Which leads us today to our felicity and old friend, Dara of the stout heart."

These last few words are touched by warmth, though the face remains serious, the eyes cold.

Dara does not smile, although her affection for Benedict is obvious as she listens. She adds softly, when Benedict is done, "The rest which you have likely heard -- Merlin is my son, and Corwin is his father -- is true. But I have not seen him since he was born. You..." her gaze fastens on Martin's, entreating him with her eyes, "you know him. Tell me about him." Fear and longing war with each other in her expression.

Martin is silent for a long time. Benedict, who knows him, is certainly aware that he's processing the information: filling in missing pieces from stories he's only heard part of, analyzing, extrapolating, making sense of it all.

Finally he says, "Well, certain things he's said are a lot clearer now. I used to wonder how the woman he talked about could possibly be the same woman I knew. I guess I have my answer. Where should I start?"

"Anywhere." Dara's eyes light up with hope and curiosity. She sits up straight, looks at the chair she is sitting in, and then stands. She moves to a couch with more room, and gestures for Martin to join her there, motioning to the spot beside her. "I've missed everything. And I know how she raised me." There is little expression to that statement, but it somehow still holds the depth of her past within it.

"How old is he?" She laughs suddenly, adding wistfully,"I've been wondering if I've missed so much that he's actually older than I am now."

Benedict shares a moment's more eye contact with Martin at Dara's oblique reference to being trained from youth to a plan of Dara the Elder.

"In Amber time," Benedict adds crossing his arms now, "we are nine years and some months into Random's reign. This reflects many more years in Chaos. Due to the oddities of the Courts, 'tis likely as not that you have now been imprisoned longer than you have been trained, free or traveled."

Dara's tone is dry. "Something like that."

"I would guess that Merlin is older than you were ever you left the Courts, but not as old as you are now--though his experience in shadow is that much greater."

"He's a young man now," says Martin. "He and I hang around, do stuff--", and he pauses momentarily again to gather his thoughts. "He comes to Amber, we travel in the Golden Circle, we go out and mess around in Shadow for a while. That kind of thing. We're the youngest in the family by quite a few years.

Something in that makes amusement lurk briefly in Dara's expression.

"We have some--common experiences--of dealing with our relatives. He doesn't talk much about his, I guess his grandmother. He doesn't know about you at all, I don't think."

"I am not surprised," Dara murmurs. "I expect no one is supposed to know about me. Does..." she stops herself in the middle of the question, and does not complete it, letting the word fall away.

Martin adds, "I like him."

"Good. That is a good recommendation." Dara's tone is firm. For at least a moment, she is delighted, before she falls serious again. She is thoughtful for a long moment. "Meeting him is going to be difficult. I don't know what she's said to him... if she's prepared him at all for this. And he's met his father." Her expression is odd, undefinable at that. "Has he had any...complications... with the family?"

"Certainly." Benedict's addition is dry as dust. Still, his expression encourages Martin to make response.

Martin considers for a moment. "I don't know what the deal with him and Corwin is, if that's what you're asking. He has rooms in Castle Amber and is welcome there as one of the king's kinsmen. The more I think about it the more I'm positive he doesn't know about--you."

The response is an unusual expression for Dara -- fear, stark and bright and brief, before it is quickly set aside. "I'm sure he'll know soon enough. And I'll deal with that when I get there." And abruptly it appears that she is done with that.

Martin glances at Ben again.

"What else have you been doing with yourself, Martin? Other than hanging out with Merlin? I don't see that being your only activity for the past nine years or so." She grins. "And anything you have been doing has to be more interesting than the descriptions I could give you of staring at four dull walls."

Martin at last sits down heavily beside Dara and shrugs. "A little of this, a little of that. Weddings and funerals. Baby-kissing, breaking champagne bottles on ships' bows, putting up with outrageous reports the broadsheets and newspapers. What the king's son does. Stuff." He shrugs again.

Dara leans into Martin as he sits, taking one hand and squeezing it.

Martin smiles when she takes his hand.

"I've missed you." She lets go again, with some reluctance.

"Weddings and baby-kissing? You aren't afraid it might rub off on you?" she teases. "I have a hard time seeing you as a politician. Are you happy?"

Martin's smile fades a little. "I guess." He shrugs again. "Dad needs my help with the baby-kissing. And I can be trusted not to say something inappropriate when the priest asks whether anyone knows any reason why the couple shouldn't be married. But Dad's almost wound up fixing all the trade treaties. Things may change after he gets done with that. I don't know what he's gonna want me to do then."

Dara's hand creeps out to cover Martin's again.

Martin looks at Dara and his expression warms.

"It soothes my mind and provides answer as well that you can say, 'I guess' to the question. Politicians are seldom happy, I regret that you may have many years before you have to be one full time." Benedict now walks a few steps towards the kitchen. "I will get us something to drink."

Dara steals the brief moment while Benedict to kiss Martin on the cheek and grin. "I'm glad, of all the people I could have run into first out of Amber, that it's you."

"Ben's smart about figuring out what people need. If it had been the wrong person, they'd never have known you were here," Martin says.

"Good point." She curls her fingers around Martin's, holding on tightly, and taking comfort from the contact... relaxing again.

And Benedict quickly returns with a tray of various strong medicines.

"Well, if you want anyone to hang out with... or to commiserate on the subject of parents, I'm always around." She offers a wicked grin which fades to a simple, fond smile. "So, will you be returning to Amber with us?"

"Yeah, I've got to go back. There's this thing, this party Dad's throwing for all the Golden Circle shadows. It's a big celebration of finishing up all the treaties. Long party, days and days worth, enough for me to have to be fitted for a lot of new clothes." Martin makes a slight face.

"Everybody's coming. Merlin says he'll be there. So will Corwin." Martin pauses to see how Dara is going to take that news.

"So will I." Dara is no longer at ease, her grip on Martin's hand tight without any gentle, her body stuff. "I... " she shakes her head. "I can't really fathom it yet. I've been locked up, on my own, for so long that a good part of this seems surreal. I damn glad you'll be there. And I'm sure you'll find some way to have fun at it... it's a party."

Martin shrugs again. "I'm not supposed to be there to have fun." He starts to say something else, pauses, and settles on, "I'm glad you'll be there too."

Benedict nods to Martin's comment. He pours brandy into a large snifter with a strange flourish of his left hand, also recapping the bottle. It takes a moment to realize that he has done the three tasks, opening, pouring, and restoring the cap only with the fingers of the left hand. The bottle is set back on the tray. "Perhaps there is no official fun planned, however look for frivolity lying in wait."

Benedict sets down the near-black brandy carafe. He pushes the selection tray nearer to the two seated.

She reaches to take one of drinks Benedict has offered before leaning back again, still silent. She draws her legs up onto the couch, curling up slightly and making herself comfortable. The look she throws Benedict is at first full of thanks, and then very clearly shifts to a fond 'I'm okay here you can go now please.'

"A toast," Benedict seems to have missed Dara's look. He raises his glass, waiting.

Then: "To Amber, to planning, to the joy of ambush."

Dara raises her glass as well, and waits.

Martin takes the third glass, and raises it as well.

Then: "To Amber, to planning, to the joy of ambush."

Dara grins at his choice, adding, "And to freedom."

"I'll drink to that," adds Martin, and does so.

Benedict nods, "I must needs attend other business." He looks at Martin. "I will be nearby. Trump me if there is need of my input. Shout if matters are more dramatic."

"Will do," says Martin.

And the warmaster smoothly departs the room.