When has dawn broken? It is morning. I know it is. I can feel that the sun has risen, and for once, it fills me with dread...
     He stayed in bed as long as he could, talking quietly, holding quietly, and finally, letting words and thoughts drift away into nothing; into silence. Aware of his untidy morning hair, whatever morning breath (and undoubted morning wood) and all the other little indications that it is morning. That it is a new day.
     That it is a day...
     I resent the coming of the new day with such bitterness in my heart, today. Because it takes you from me. I'm rich, I'm poor, I'm a prince, I'm noone. And all the things you mean to me, so quickly you've come to mean to me, and I can't say any of it. The words won't leave my tongue, because it's too soon. I don't know if I'll ever be able to say those words.
     I don't know if we'll have time for those words.
     Tiernan's found his clothes and pulled them on quietly. Not looking at you as he did so - focusing instead on obscured buttons, on combing his fingers through his hair until they look - princely, instead of bedridden.
     As in, being ridden in bed...
     "I suppose I should find Leon." The Prince of the Winter Diamond speaks at last, voice low, pitched quiet. Another running of his hand back through his hair, even though it's unnecessary. He doesn't know what to say, and so he says nothing, looking to the doorway. "...I imagine he's helped decimate a few rats, by now."
     I suppose... I imagine... I can still feel your touch under my skin. I want to tell you that. I want to tear the clothes from you and be alone with you again. And instead, these two shadow princes come pressing back into the room with us, so that we are no longer alone; the spectre of entire courts is in here with us, now. Pulling as apart, as inexorably as any tide and land.
     Aloud, Tiernan murmurs, "Breakfast's probably being served, now. At least there's that to ... look forward to."

     The ship is a vessel of luxury. The baths next door use refined sea water, the salt leeched from it to provide rubs for the skin, should one desire such. He steps out of the bath now, the navy leathers back on, and likewise the boot. Not yet the shirt to hide the tattoos, though another silk shirt is sitting out to be worn, a copy of yesterday's only this one is white. White and midnight, his colors.
     Despite the 'red' in his name...
     Iowerth leans on the doorway's ease, finishing up the brushing of his teeth. Coppery hair lies against his neck, at his collarbones. There is light filtering in from the many windows, an odd brightness for the two of you. It doesn't fit you, either of you. Fiery eyebrows lift, and he holds his hand still, foaming at the mouth. "If you want something to eat... I have a kitchen... will she.. be expecting you for breakfast?"
     A prince has to eat. Surely, you do not need to sprint to breakfast. Iowerth smiles at you with his eyes, disappearing for a moment to rinse out his mouth. He returns not a moment later, his hands taking up the silk shirt to pull then tie it on. Midnight marks move against his skin as he moves, pulling on the shirt but leaving it untied, unfastened, unbound.
     "I suppose we should not delay," he murmurs. "How long will you remain in the Yet To Be Named Kingdom?" His mouth twists at that. Mother, you really should get around to naming your kingdom someday. "There are ways, Tiernan... hmmm? And we know them, the darkened paths, the hidden corridors..."
     As if he can feel your hesitation. Your anxiety. Perhaps he can. A hand lands upon your waist, sliding against you. "Where are you staying?" he whispers at your ear. "Tell me... I will find you..."

     "My mother will be cross with me if I don't make an appearance. Politics more than anything." He wants to stay. You know it. He knows it. What is to be done? Tiernan shrugs a little, turning towards you and adjusting his doublet. "And," he says softly, "making her pleased with me now may make things ... easier, later."
     It is morning. How I hate mornings...
     He sighs a little as he watches you - aware of the sigh but helpless to prevent it. Frustration is beneath the surface, visible to you, who already have gained his measure so well. "We don't depart to go back for another month or two. Possibly longer, depending on how taken mother is with surroundings, and if she's yet figured out who to leave behind as a spy."
     His voice is sardonic on that. Yes, I know, I should be more loyal to my mother. But we all know that is what it amounts to. Why should I pretend, here, with you? She will not know...
     And so, I will not be punished...
     You approach, and there's an inhale at your touch. That dark head lowers a little towards you, making it easier for you to whisper - of course. That is the only reason why he would sway in closer. Yes. "We are in the north tower," Tiernan murmurs. His hand goes to cover yours, his other hand, lifting to your shoulder. "My room is across from my mother's as a matter of course. I suppose it is expected that we would be ... close. Be careful..."
     Blue eyes lift to yours, mouth puckered with the irony of it. Be careful, yes, please. Don't get caught. Be careful, too, with what of me you seem now to hold...

     "I don't suppose you have any interest in espionage?" He grins at the thought. Oh, that mind of his in motion. "Hmm... no... no though it is tempting," he exhales, his arm encircling you, drawing you to him, "... to suggest you do so yourself, and that we play double agents... it would be dangerous. So, I will not suggest it."
     We should not fantasize more danger for ourselves. It is perilous enough as it is.
     His hand withdraws, his fingers, each one padding against you, pressing at your clothing to feel you beneath. "We will have to be very careful. I will not meet you in the North Tower, no," Iowerth steps away. "If you go into the village... tonight... a carousal, go to the Red Orchid. It is in the District. I will be there waiting. We will have a drink, yes? You are a guest in my mother's kingdom, are you not? And is it not customary for the sons of queens to drink together, even carouse together?"
     Brilliant, isn't he. And as twisted as any politician. "I will be waiting... ask for Pomegranate. She will ...make sure we meet." And then... we will have time. We will make time. "We will make time," he echoes.

     "The thought had occurred to me," Tiernan answers quietly. His arms go around you. Feeling you. Clasping you to him and him to you, as if to make it so there's no separation between, just one flowing into another and back. "But I don't know that mother would agree. I'm her only child, you know."
     And if he should get caught... or even 'caught'... Dangerous. Very. But ... maybe worth it? He does not know. He has not decided.
     There is an indrawn breath for your wandering hand, and he sighs. "Alright," Tiernan agrees with a nod. "Alright. Tonight, a drink. Mother won't entirely approve, but it's the done thing to do, so she won't say anything about it." One hand releases you, lifts to touch your face - as if he's gone suddenly blind, feeling his way around in the dark, reminding himself - the memory of you. "I'll go there. Anywhere."
     Pomegranate, his lips form the name silently. Committing it to memory. "Time..." He echoes it. "Alright." One corner of his mouth curls up, and he lifts his chin, looking at you. He is silent for a long, long moment before he speaks, weighing his words. Debating internally, where you can see that he is, but not what. And then, with a little half-despairing shrug and sardonic smile, he lets the words loose.
     "I will miss you," Tiernan says gravely, his hands falling away from you. "Well, I'd better go." As casual as that.

     There is a sound he makes in his throat, unspoken agreement. Yes, we have had more time than we will know what to do with in the coming nights. "We will discuss it later... we will not be staying at the Red Orchid, but we must be seen there... then, leave the rest to me."
     He looks at you as you speak of leaving. There is no delaying that. Iowerth ties the shirt closed and he reaches for his captain's coat. "I will not disembark with you," he mentions as matter-of-factly. "But I will show you the best way off the ship." Coat in motion as he turns, the captain leads the way out of the bedchamber.
     "We will go to the stern. I will lower you down," he says, glancing beside and behind him as he strides ahead. That march. Of course, now you know his power. The marching stride upon the earth, as if he claims it all, is much how he is between the sheets. "When you get down, walk to the east. The cave. The tunnel will open for you. And you can get back to the library... as if you had never left."
     He halts his steps, with you, before you get to the door. Though his expression may be matter-of-fact, his eyes show the intensity of his emotion. His desire. "Most of all," his hands slide into your hair, "...remember this," he draws your face in close, your mouth to his.
     "It will be hard not to think of you today," he smiles at your mouth as he claims it with a kiss.

     He watches you put on your coat - look again at you, the way he first saw you. But he will never see you quite that way again. He sets his feet in motion; slowly, at first, with difficulty. Reluctance is tying weights to his ankles. Stupid emotions...
     "To the east," Tiernan agrees quietly, following, following, his eyes fixed on you, ignoring the magnificence of the ship. "I'll remember." As if he had never left. Things will not be quite that unchanged! But it will be kept under the surface - as it must be.
     You stop, and he stops as well, with that turned ankle as in the tunnels, the blink of surprise, the misstep caught. And at the touch of your hands to his hair, he is suddenly embarrassed by himself; by his reaction, the low, soft moan of desire that escapes him even before your mouth comes so close.
     From this close, you can see the redness even before it rises in his skin, the fevered flush, the parting of his lips for yours an instant before your mouth descends; you can feel the wild eagerness that spurs him on. He is ordinarily so controlled. And now he has cast that control aside, and must take it up again. It is in his kiss; in the way he closes his eyes and holds his head, as if savoring your kiss, tasting it as a banquet beyond imagining. The slow roll of his tongue to yours, finding that metal ball and teasing it. Consuming from your mouth his dream.
     When at last the kiss ends, as all kisses must and do, Tiernan murmurs, "I will tuck my thoughts to where they cannot be seen or guessed. But I will think of you often. Until tonight, my other self will hold sway. But you know the truth."

     "I know it all too well," and so the withdrawal begins, here and now. Before he wants to. But he must, and he must now. His finger and thumb press his lower lip, his last taste of you. "I will see you tonight... be careful... and...enjoy your breakfast, Tiernan..."
     There are no more words as he leads you at last from the Captain's Quarters, this time taking you not up the stairs to the deck, but through the hulls so you can retrieve your Leon.
     With his captain's sword buckled to his hip, his coat and silks, his midnight and white, Iowerth Rhudd Draig remains behind as he instructs Vania to lead you to the stern, to the small craft that can be lowered to the shallow waters.
     He does not follow you...
     And you both will have to get used to that...
     It is Vania that leads you to the stern, a lower deck at the stern. "Prince... the cave is to the east. The captain asks me to inform you that the word to whisper is treasure. We all know how dragons love their treasure," she murrs and purrs. "Go well," the small, violet dragon hisses. "Ah, and you too, Leon. Such a masterful hunter! I shall have to buy more rats..."

     No more words. What can he say? It is difficult enough as it is, without prolonging the departure which must take place. His face is tight; all of him is, right now, held so carefully, to keep such strong emotion at bay. How do people live with this?
     He is lowered, and Tiernan does not look back. He does not want to see if his lover is watching him go - or if he is not watched. He does not know which would be harder to bear; not knowing is quite hard enough.
     "I thank you," the words are murmured, courteously, colorlessly to the drake. "You are very kind." He is not looking quite at her. There are other things upon his mind, and if it makes him seem a bit aloof, well, what of it?
     The miniature lion paces along the very edge of the boat, drawing Tiernan's attention. Instinct prompts him to scoop the clockwork up protectively to his shoulder, where Leon squarks and rattles. "Leon thanks you for your hospitality as well, and looks forward to matching wits with your rat population again. He has filled his belly." And I will be cleaning up diamond dust and gold pebbles. He bows; rises, looks to the east. Only for a moment, finally, upon the shore at last, does he permit himself a backwards glance...
     A mistake, really. The glance is painful. He feels it vibrate through his chest in a diagonal slash from shoulder to belly, left to right and downwards. Tiernan does not look back again. Instead, leaden footsteps lead him towards the cavern and back towards mother.

     The captain stands upon the prow, leaning upon the dragon guardian that is the ship's soul as much as its good luck charm. He watches you leave, a hand resting on the railing. A slight turn of his head, and he can watch you go.
     And he listens as the stones tell of your passing.
     The tunnel is a spyglass. Closing his eyes, he can watch you pass. Perhaps he is only imagining it. What difference does it make, in the end, which it is? Iowerth exhales, removing a cigarillo from his jacket. Smoking, an inherited nasty habit. But also a calming for the rough, internal seas.
     His cloak of aloof dismissal and distance resettles upon the shoulders of his expression. Iowerth commands the plank to lower once more and he strides down to the pier, sword rattling in his stride. And despite the fact that his new lover has gone, despite the fact that the way is dark and full of potential, dread dangers, Iowerth's mouth begins to twitch...
     And from the darkness, a smile begins...

Posted by rowan at May 01, 2006 09:38 PM