He couldn’t seem to get warm, lately. The chair behind his desk wasn’t soft enough. If he sat there for more than an hour, his back tended to give him trouble in the morning. When had he gotten...old? His father had complained of these very issues. And it was damp outside from the rain last night. It wasn’t as if there was a lingering chill, exactly, but the air felt different.

Sitting in the chair, which he soundly refused to dress with more furs than was strictly necessary, he pulled his himation tighter around his shoulders. If given the choice, he’d have been outside this morning, walking the familiar trails of his land, but instead, he was staring at columns and numbers. Did they need to import more fruits? Or were the current trade agreements fine?

His steward should be in soon to discuss it. Glancing up when the door opened, he opened his mouth to say something to the steward, but found it to be his son instead. “Iason!” He rose from his chair and held out his arms to embrace his son as soon as the other came near enough. The himation fell away and for the moment, he wasn’t focusing on his back or the damp in the room. And certainly the ledgers had gone by the wayside.

Iason held out the scroll and Gavriil looked down at it for a few seconds before taking it. The wax seal was broken, so he didn’t feel any compunction about unrolling it to read its contents even as Iason told him what was inside. He said nothing in response as he read the contents. After he was done, he slowly re-rolled the scroll and handed it back to Iason. The Athenian royal seal was right side up, staring at them - between them.

He managed a smile. “This is great news, son.” The words rang false in his own ears. The whole thing was...bittersweet. On the one hand, he never sought for his son to leave; ever. But at the same time, no one could deny that, in marrying Princess Persephone, that he would not follow his aunt’s footsteps and achieve great things for the family. As a father, he did not want Iason to go. As a baron, he couldn’t be more proud.

“I didn’t expect you today,” he thought back, trying to remember if Iason had sent word. And then he realized that he probably hadn’t. His son had likely just received this message and came straight over. “You’re staying the night?” he checked, hoping the answer was yes. It wasn’t right to keep Iason in his childhood home all the time, but he really did miss his son’s constant presence.

Gavriil had just sat back down when Iason spoke.

"How am I to be a husband? I've no idea how to share my bed with anyone, much less the rest of my life."

If he was honest, it was a question he’d been expecting. Not that he’d asked his own father, of course, but because Iason came to him for advice in all things. And this was to be one of the things that his son obviously felt comfortable enough to ask.

The room’s chill seemed to have fled. Gavriil shed his cloak, escaping from the sudden scratchy, prickling heat of it. He glanced at his son but looked away quickly. Whenever he looked at Iason, he simultaneously saw the promising young man he’d become, and the wild haired, blue eyed boy he’d been. As a child, Iason had been all cheeks and eyes; adorable and sweet.

But he wasn’t a child anymore and it was not a kindness to want to keep him that way.

“It’s…” Gavriil began, rubbing his rough chin. He hadn’t bothered shaving yet. How to put this? Dorotheos would know, he thought wryly. The man was reported to have bedded many women...but his brother was out of the house at the moment. What a time to pick.

“Being a husband is a solemn task,” he began, trying a different tack. “And the uh...bed sharing, is only a small portion of that.” His whole face was hot. He pulled at the top hem of his tunic, as though the wide neck could have been in any way tight. He thought of his wife and the intervening years that separated them. While he did miss bedding her, what he missed most was her constant presence. She’d had the ability to breathe life into any room she entered. Just to be around her had been enough.

“And your marriage will be different than mine. Your role is different. Mine was to protect your mother. And you. And your sisters.” He stopped, looking for the words. Speeches like this did not come easily and he was finding it extremely difficult to put into words what it was he wanted to say. “She…” he made a sort of gesture like he was holding a ball. “Princess Persephone will expect things of you. To be willing and able to support her. And children, Iason.” He looked at his son seriously and leaned his arms onto the desk. “In a royal marriage, children are tantamount.”

“So...I suppose the marriage bed is more important for you.” He nodded. It had been a good talk. In fact, he was a little relieved. Now that that was all totally clear….

This wasn’t going well, he realized with dismay. His son looked more and more confused and Gavriil was wondering how to salvage the situation. Iason wasn’t asking him how it was done, surely. ...was he? Probably. He must be, because he’d mentioned sharing the bed.

Gavriil sat back as his son paced back and forth and then finally threw up his hands, exclaiming that perhaps he wasn’t meant to be a husband, least of all to a princess. This made Gavriil both frustrated and a bit guilty. This was the last thing he’d meant for his only son to think. After all, Iason was more than twice the man of anyone in Taengea, royal or otherwise.

“Son,” he began, a bit lost for the words again. “Sit down.” He soundly refused to speak until Iason did as he was bade. Only then did Gavriil feel like they could start this conversation afresh. Leaning forward, he put both elbows on the desk and steepled his thick fingers together and letting his nose rest lightly on the tips of his fingers.

“You’re asking how it goes, aren’t you?” this was horribly awkward but he was determined to plod through this. “Between a man and a woman.” Another pause, waiting for Iason to either confirm or deny this. His features were almost impassive when he was sure that Iason was saying that this was the real crux of the problem.

“What most people do, to start, is you have to….” he looked up at the beams running across the length of the ceiling. They were easier to concentrate on than his son’s face. At last, he looked back down to his rough hands. “See she’s lying down like so,” he indicated his hand on the desk. “And then you’re like...well like this, see?”

There was nothing in the world that would have possessed him to look up to make sure Iason really did see. He was totally trusting in instincts. And then that word hit him like an arrow between the eyes. Instincts. That was what Iason needed to hear, probably.

“Look, son, it’s like this. The princess will expect you to know what to do, and you will. It’s no magic secret. Animals do it all the time. You’ve seen deer in rutting season. It’s a bit like that. Except you’ve got a mind. This isn’t just for rutting. It’s sealing a promise. And I promise you that once you get close to a beautiful naked woman, then your instincts will take over.”

He sat back,now fully convinced that he’d gotten to the heart of the problem. But then he had a horrible idea that Iason might try to force the princess to get on her hands and knees. ...not that that was a bad thing, but it certainly wasn’t a good way to start off with two virgins. He sat forward again and thumped his first two fingers on the desk to be sure that Iason was listening.

“Not just like deer, mind. You’re people. Go slow. You know...kisses...and..” he waved his other hand vaguely around again. “And such. She’s probably going to be scared. Women tend to be on the wedding night. Except your mother. She was…” he smiled at the memory but then wiped that smile right off his face. “Anyway, princesses aren’t like that. So you’ll have to teach her that it’s more than a duty. You’ll see. It’s great fun once you get the hang of it.”

“A bit like hunting, really.”