The sun is creeping over the horizon, its warm rays long having penetrated the canopy of clouds overhead. Fiona has decided, quite royally, to take some sun; in a soft and comfortable chair she sits in the garden, the bassinet beside her. It's carefully arranged so that it sits in the shade, its occupants protected from too harsh a light.
     The green leaves on the trees are in full vibrancy now, and any chill breeze that might come in from the ocean seems far away, here. It is as sheltered and protected a nook as might possibly be arranged. She's sent the nymphs and centaurs and satyrs and men and women and elves away; she has no need of them. They may remain within hearing distance, but not within her presence. She has only a need of her family, and nothing and noone else.
     Rhodri. She knows you're nearby. Right now, she would need a sword and something more severe than a sword to persuade you to part from her, from your son, your brother's side. She doesn't mind it, not now. Come here, won't you? Sit with me...
     She lifts her goblet to her lips. There is no trace of alcohol in what she drinks; it's sweetened almond milk, thick without being syrupy. "I forget who it was - Sappho, I think - who said that almonds make the breasts heavy. It can't do much harm to me at this point." Fiona smiles, one hand still resting on the lip of the bassinet.

     Vibrancy. The invisible motion of light waves rippling, only it is so vibrant that blossoms shake from wisteria vines, dotting the stones that likewise dot the garden. Flecks of wisteria end up in his hair as he passes beneath the boughs of thick-limbed and flowering vines that serve as entry bowers to this little garden nook.
     He has been up, as you have been, since just before sunrise, to relieve the night's previous guard (a much more vibrant Davydd than he has seen in years, perhaps he has never known a Davydd this free of ghosts). Dressed more for comfort than for ceremony, he is all in white. It only serves to make the red-gold of his hair stand out, burnished and brilliant.     Rhodri's hand lands lightly upon your shoulder, and the warmth of his mouth lands immediately upon your skin, your neck nuzzling. From this vantage, he is also able to look in after the twin sleepers, the two princes who slumber again after their latest meal. Do you want my lap? He says it, smiles at the double meaning, and lets his smile wander even as he moves to take the seat next to you.
     I couldn't have imagined this a few years ago. He goes on as he comes around you. I wouldn't have dared to dream this big, you know. Of being in a garden this fabulous, with a woman he loves, and a new family. A family like this.

     I could take your lap if I weren't still so sore, comes the retort, but as it is, I don't want to move. Moving still hurts a little bit. But, and Fiona's tone softens a little, becomes more demure, I do miss it. With you.
     Not just her Other. You, quite specifically. And there is no hint of defensiveness as she says it - no need to add the reassurance save her own desire, quite unconscious, for you.
     She smiles, eyes closing as your mouth caresses her skin, eyes only reopening when the physical contact's lost. You sit, and her hand reaches for yours. "Your dreams had shrunk with disuse," Fiona says to you casually. But for all the casualness, there is something of meaning to what she says to you. It is her way, right now, in this afterwards time - with you and with Davydd both. "It's time to dream again, more than a little. Not just working, not just dreaming - something of both."
     She continues, fingers stroking along your wrist before she pulls her hand back to her own lap. I love you. I love both of my sons, but I want you to know that my love of you is not entirely overshadowed by that. They're beautiful, and ... they're real. Fiona smiles, a bit of mistiness suddenly to the corners of her eyes as she looks down at the bassinet. "Everything that is important to me is here, right now."

     And, darling, believe me... were you not sore, I would let you have as much of it as you wished. There is laughter edging those thoughts, and the warmth of affection, and the summer sunlight heat of desire. The honey and the wine of summer's lustiness I miss it with you, too. But ... on the bright side, you do get to torment me...
     Rhodri reaches over, taking a hand. Always, he maintains some kind of contact. To feel your skin, even if just your fingertips. "They had," he murmurs, looking to you, then to the view beyond the garden nook. "Atrophied," he settles on that term. "But it's time to dream again. Dream big enough for a family, a kingdom, and a world. The long rest is over." For him. And for Davydd.
     You take back your hand, and his hand misses it already. His own lace together and rest against the bared stomach, rest against the stags there and the hounds that chase them forever. A wide and warm smile leaps to his mouth as he looks to the bassinet and to you. "They are beautiful," he agrees. "Getting fat," he chuckles softly. "This son of mine... and his brother, my brother, are a grand, grand pair." Rhodri leans in toward you, placing a kiss upon your temple. "I am proud of this family... and happy to be a part of it." And that includes Davydd. "I ... am not worried about losing you to my son," Rhodri grins. "Only a fool would question that the son does not now come before the father. I know better. But I know you love me, Fiona."

     "I know that you know that I love you, and that I love our children." Fiona says it calmly, almost complacently. And then she turns towards you, the full attention of her gaze on you. Her eyes are very blue, the fine details of her pupils seeming almost lost, almost vanished in that blue.
     I've done you a disservice, that's all. And I know that I have. You know I have too, and you've been very forgiving, but it isn't fair to keep milking the fact that you stole me out from under Davydd's nose. She reaches for your hand again, her thumb stroking against the webbing between your own thumb and forefinger. Do you know what I'm trying to tell you? Not that I'll never twit you with it again.
     Fiona smiles at you, and there is a delightful mischief there in her smile for a moment. I couldn't promise that, darling. I like twitting you entirely too much. You and Davy both. I like getting you all worked up - I like provoking you until there's the chance, at least, that you might lose control. But ... I'm bound now to you more equally. And I'm giving you that knowledge. Fair's fair, isn't it?

     Who am I to talk of 'fairness'? Generally speaking, that is. He smiles at himself. As you take his hand, he looks to the joining fingers and then to your eyes. That face is a sincere face, a genuine expression. Diolch. The gratitude is sincere.
     Twitting is alright, so long as everyone's in on the joke. He chuckles at that, bringing your fingers to his mouth for a kiss. I know you like to spar... it's part of what attracted me to you. So... don't go changing that. But... thank you for saying it and meaning it. I did need that.
     Bright green eyes shift to the wee bairns in the bassinet, particularly upon his own strawberry-blond boyo. I'm a rank amateur in the thief department compared to little Gwilym there. He only has to bat an eyelash and he's got you. Me? I'm not that cute. It's more work. But... worth it, love. Grinning, Rhodri leans in, leading your mouth to his own with the soft direction of his hand. "It's worth it," he whispers there.
     I like being provoked. I wouldn't know what to do without it. And he has his way of provoking you -- he knows your buttons as well as you know his, and the dance steps best to trip them. Rhodri parts his mouth at yours, suckling a sweet kiss. Upon lips, upon chin, upon the line of your jaw.
     Yes... I do know how you like to make me lose control... la belle dame sans merci...

     "I know you did." Fiona smiles, turning towards you in her seat, leaving her fingers in your grasp. Her other hand lifts from the bassinet to touch your face. "It's my job to know things, now, isn't it? I've got a family to take care of."
     She leans in at your guidance, her hand to your cheek and yours to hers, mouth touching yours. You aren't cute at all. You're handsome, smooth, sophisticated - you're Carey Grant in red hair and a thief's clothing. You even dance as well as him, damn you.
     She smiles against your mouth, and her eyes sparkle with sudden emotion before they close, her chin tipping up to allow your kisses to roam. Don't think that my devotion to my family means I'm backing off in the least on fulfilling my other dreams. I fully intend to have it all, and if you can't keep up, that's not my problem, comes the carefree and almost jaunty comment. I like it when you provoke me. I like it when you turn me into a captive. But you can capture me, that doesn't mean that you can hold me.
     Fiona settles back in her chair, calmly reaching to free one of her swollen breasts from the confines of her thin gown. There isn't any point in wearing anything constraining, or irreplaceable. Even if the babes don't make a mess of it, there's the inevitable leaking she does on her own. "Better than anything other than their own piteous cries, this is," she says lazily, reaching for her son and bringing him up to her nipple. "When it starts to spill out, I know it's time."

     "I know you better than to think that. I'll do my best to... keep up..." Rhodri grins and settles back. He likes to watch the feeding. It is a beautiful thing, to watch a mother and a newborn commune with one another. And the tender look conveys that.
     "You are incredible," Rhodri looks at you in half-amazement. "You have changed, we all have. But you are stronger, more confident, more aware of what you want, more beautiful than you have ever been. A wonderful mother. Your heart was already a wide and open place for those who found there way inside it, and now it's just grown bigger. It's just..."
     He has no words for that, as you can see. Rhodri can only shake his head in incredulity. A chuckle lodges in his throat, lingering there as he watches his son latch on. "My thoughts exactly. Do you want anything, beautiful?" And he is rising to get his breakfast as well. "Tea? Cakes? All of the above?"

     "I shouldn't overdo it on the sugar until these two," an eye cast to the bassinet and back to the babe at her breast, "are weaned. It'll just play havoc with their systems, to say nothing of their sleep. Tea with a modest amount of honey, and some bread and butter, I think. Maybe an egg, if there's any handy." And Fiona smiles.
     It isn't the same smile as before, a smile of challenge or defiance. It's serene, gentled. "I'm not doing anything that women haven't been doing for thousands of years, Rhodri. I just want to do justice by them. I'm not going to do injustice to myself or to my husbands in the process if I can avoid it, that's all - and you're the two of you both old enough to hopefully know it. But it is my job to communicate with you both as clearly as I can, about what I want and need and what's going on."
     To say nothing of being the balance for the two of you, Fiona continues as she looks down at Gwilym, expression softening again as she does so. It never fails. She grows a bit misty-eyed. What will she do when they grow up so fast? You and Davydd both have said how hard it is for me. It's true it's been hard - harder than it needed to have. But I think a lot of that's changed, now.
     She strokes a fingertip along her son's cheek, lips curving into a small, almost ironic smile that softens immediately at the answering gurgle from the bassinet. What you two have always told me finally sank in, I suppose. You need me. Both of you. You aren't just saying it - the three of us, we move together or not at all.

Posted by rowan at November 09, 2005 10:31 PM