Deus...
God, god, god, what does this mean? What is to become of me...
I know that I am young and resilient. I have even gathered that existential angst is necessary for testing that resilience. But what is to become of me? Who am I to be; what am I to be? I have no official existence, now. My life as I knew it is all but completely gone; wiped away as a finger's writing in the sand.
He is staring at himself in the mirror, his shirt again off; trousers too. His face is pale and shocked, wild-eyed below rumpled and untidy black hair. Across his chest, his arms, his thighs are the semi-circular discs of his mother's making; the crescent torture of her spells, woven so deep into his flesh and blood and bone.
Now that she is dead, all are visible. Black no longer, but an even, uniform grey, dull as smoked glass; dull as ash.
Tiernan stares at his reflection, then turns, vomiting quietly into the toilet. The taste of bile rises in his throat, stinging the back of his nasal passages and clouding his vision. He turns back to the basin after a quick flush, running cool water to splash it on his face before he then struggles his way back into his clothes, slumping on the edge of the sink and quietly lowering his face to his hands.
Deus...
The quiet closing of the door came just before the sound of retching, and what were to be measured steps to the kitchen to get you something to drink instead turned to a quick jog (and not a very far run) to the doorway. Iowerth is standing there, wide-eyed in his own concern, stopping immediately, jerking, as he sees you at the sink. Hands on the doorframe stopped him from bursting full on into the bath.
There is something soft spoken, but it is choked in his throat unintelligible, as he comes to you. A hand to your head as your head is in your hands, his other brushing through your dark hair. Iowerth says nothing. He simply stands there for you. He holds you. And in the confines of this bathroom, the two of you are alone in all the world.
"I will ... right any wrong, Tiernan," he whispers suddenly. "I have scanned thousands of miles, created oceans where only Ideas of Oceans swam before. I will grant islands to you. I will set you upon a throne," he declares, his voice cracking. "And most of all, as I have given my heart to you, you shall always have it... I am sorry, love... I am so sorry..."
That for my sake you have lost all...
It will be by my sake that you gain it all back again, better than before...
He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, choked off by emotion. One hand rubs at his face, then comes wearily away, landing at your hip. The world is too big. The bathroom is too small. What is to be done?
"There is nothing to be righted."
He speaks so quietly, so subdued is his voice, and Tiernan sighs suddenly, straightening up from his forwards lean. "You've done nothing wrong, Io. I ... could let this poison me... poison us, but ... I know the truth. I ran away from her as much as to you. Doing this, I ... knew that going home would not be possible. I foreswore the notion of becoming what she wanted, what she expected - we discussed it all, back when we were trying to figure out how to stay together."
His voice is a bit hoarse, and he turns from you, now, running water, cupping his hands and bringing them to his mouth to rinse and spit, to clear the lingering traces of bile from him. Your lover straightens, turns to you. "I made my bed," Tiernan says softly, leaning again on the sink, looking up to you. His hand reaches for yours, clasps it. "Maybe I'm just - not meant to be a prince. Or - I do not know. I swore myself to you, yes? Not to myself. Maybe ... this is part of that."
He closes his eyes, swallowing hard; his hand tightens on yours. "...I don't know, Io. I'm trying, I'm trying so hard to find a way out of this. To be that rock. I just don't... know."
The words fall to a hush, broken, blue eyes squeezed so tightly shut; as tightly as he is holding onto your hand. He swallows again; he isn't breathing right now. It's hard to push air in, when your chest is that tight...
"You are a prince, though your lands are forfeit," Io murmurs. "Easy to resolve. I have lands to give. A land accessible by water, for starters." He doesn't smile after that. Had that been spoken on any other day it would have come with a smirk. But not now. His hand grasps yours tightly. "You do not need to be a rock," he whispers. "Maybe to the rest of the world, in time. But not with me." He frees your hand, his hand landing on your back, your shoulders rubbing, stroking. "You do not need to be a rock. Breathe, weep, whatever you need to do...there is no front to give. Not between us, love."
Iowerth bends, his mouth parting at your shoulder. He kisses you. "Come, it's claustrophobic in here. Let's get to the bed. Have a drink. Two. Maybe three," he whispers, his hand massaging the back of your neck. Let me tend to you, his fingers speak against your skin. He pats you, rubbing the small of your back and he steps away, reaching for your hand again to lead you out of the bedroom.
He takes a shuddering breath, leaning to you as you touch him. His muscles are like rock indeed; unyielding, hard, stubborn, painfully tight. Arms slide around your waist, and he uses you to pull himself up, his face for a moment buried in the crook of your neck.
But there are no tears. Not yet. He holds you, and says nothing, breath finally escaping him in a gasp, all at once.
You are released, his hand taken. Tiernan allows himself to be led out of the bathroom, into the bedroom which you and he have so pleasurably shared. His thoughts are far from such, right now. His gaze is lost; the blue depths fading and darkening in turn as he tries to find thoughts to push past the numbness.
Finally, he speaks, midway through the bedroom, his hand going limp in your own. "I am unclean," Tiernan says softly, looking to the floor as he comes to a halt. "I can't look at myself, Io. I look at myself, and ..."
He is falling apart. Shoulders shake silently, hands shoved into his pockets with shoulders hunched. He is trying, desperately, to hold himself together. Armour should not be broken. He resents this; resents himself, this weakness.
"You are not unclean," Iowerth murmurs. The door to the bedroom has been closed. It is locked not simply with the door's own mechanism but with an order to open for none save you and he. His hand clasps yours, where your own has gone lax. He is the strength you need, he gives it over to you. "You have been the victim of those who ruled you. They did not love you and they treated you unkindly," he murmurs. "How is this a fault of your own? How could you have known?"
Iowerth goes to the bed with you. He draws down the covers, and his arms are there to assist you. "I will speak to my brother about the marks. He can restore you, I believe. And they will be gone. Whatever spells are left... we will deal with, Tiernan. My mother may yet be able to resolve those, she and her husband, my brother." He means the Oak King in this, the healer, the life-giver. "Please do not surrender to uncertainty. You have not lost yourself, your way. In fact, with the removal of those...hooks... you are already restored, hmm?"
He calls to the room a bounty -- not of food, for he does not wish to make you sick, but of drinks. There is clear, honeyed mead. There is butter ale and a dark stout. He takes two bottles of the stout, opening them. "She was a greater foe than we realized," Iowerth murmurs. "But she is gone now, Tiernan. And you and I remain, as we ever shall be, together. Trust me..." He hands the opened bottle of stout to you as he comes to stand before you.
"Drink this, hmm? I will tend to you. I am here, where would I go without you?" Iowerth reaches up, brushing your hair back. "I love you," he whispers. "Do not think I would let you languish and suffer. We will tend to this, you and I. There is no problem, my love, that cannot be resolved..."
He nods slowly, listening to you. Trying to absorb the meaning in your words. It is so very difficult, right now, even though he sits on the bed with you; and slowly, his arms go around you as you stand there in front of him, his forehead to your chest.
"I love you," Tiernan whispers. "I ... deus, Io, if you were not here, I don't know what I'd do. I do not know how I would manage." He is struggling as it is. Struggling to find words. Struggling for a foothold. He takes a bottle from you, leaning back to look up as he holds the bottle in both hands. "I feel as if I should be able to fix things," he says helplessly. "That I should be able to just - nod, and accept this, and move on. But for some reason, I can't. I am floundering, Io. I do not know what I should do. I do not know how I should react."
"Of course you're floundering," Iowerth speaks softly, an arm around your shoulder. His hand lifts to your head, fingers massaging your scalp. "It is sudden, it is a drastic change for you. The woman you knew as your mother is dead, and the place you have known of as home has been conquered. You are supposed to be floundering, hmm? You are right to have feelings of confusion, of loss."
Setting the beer bottle on the nightstand, he bends, arms surrounding you, his mouth at your head. He kisses you. "You do not have to wonder, Tiernan. For I am here. And will be." He hugs you, his strength given to you again. Let it be a comfort. Iowerth straightens, lifting your face to him with a hand to your chin. He kisses your mouth sweetly and straightens again.
"Fix things....you are the greatest mechanic I know." He smiles suddenly, warmly. "But this will take more than just your ingenuity. More than just your expert hands, my love. We will seek the help we need, but you cannot do it alone. And you will not have to. Do not place so much on your own shoulders. You have friends here, hmm? And a man who loves you."
His hand rests upon your head. "There is no one way to react, Tiernan. I ... cannot speak to your loss. I have never ... experienced the loss of a parent, even a poor one." His touch draws away. "Here, lie down. I'll hold you a while. And there's your drink, hmm? You could probably do with one of those..."
"Knew as? I suppose you're right. I thought she at least cared about me as something more than a puppet, even if I did not agree with her." Tiernan sighs quietly, taking a sip from his bottle. His heart isn't in it. Neither is his stomach; he can almost feel his intestines writhe.
The bottle is set aside as you kiss him, and his eyes close. "I need you close to me," he admits, voice soft. "That is what I need right now, Io. I need..."
I need to feel that I am not alone. That this will not also fall to ash and bitterness; that I am still this person you love, that you want to be with. I need...
There's a sudden oath, and he stands up, scrambling across the room to the dresser. The dark-haired prince yanks open the drawer and begins rummaging through it, eyes wide and alarmed - panicked. You can see the renewed tension, agitation in his frame.
"Where is Leon..."
Leon...
The fiery eyebrows lift, a slow arch of wonder. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen him in a while." He pauses. "Did you bring him with, or was he still on the ship with Vanni?" Iowerth turns, looking toward the door. He doesn't recall seeing him. He couldn't say when the last time was.
"Are you able to ... summon the things you've made? I do not have a power that can call it here..." Iowerth takes up the drink he brought you, taking a swallow of it himself.
Tiernan shakes his head, inhaling and then exhaling slowly. "Hopefully he is still on the ship." Hopefully he is alright. "You mentioned friends, and I - just ..." He straightens from the dresser, pushing the drawer closed again, leaning forward against the polished wooden surface. "I am sorry, Io. You should not ... have to be my nursemaid."
He will be apologizing a lot. For his own perceived weakness. His own perceived inability. His own self-disgust.
"Let's - I need to lie down," he says quietly. There is that intensity to him, right now. It is the twisting of despair with which he battles; Laocoon could have done no more. Dully, he moves back to the bed, throwing himself down upon it on his stomach, face buried in a pillow.
"What does your mother wish I do?" His voice is muffled. "Is there anything..."
"Fuck...your nursemaid," he rumbles it with a smirk. "Come on, Tiernan. I'm not having to wipe your bum, oes? I'm here... when you need me. You are not weak," each word emphasized, "...you are simply in shock, and rightfully so. Hmmm? There is no judgement on it." And soon you feel his weight. Iowerth piles onto you, holding you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms working to surround you. He kisses the edges of your ear.
"I will ask Vanni if Leon is on the ship. Do not worry, love." Iowerth exhales. He closes his eyes, his weight given, his strength surrounding you. A moment later, he rolls to the side, his arms guiding you against his chest. "As for my mother? I think she wishes you remain with me. She has said as much. She does not say what she does not mean. But as for what you must do as a result of all of this? Nothing, cari." Darling, he says.
He cradles your face with a hand. He leans in and kisses you, closing his eyes. The kiss is tender, reassuring. His hand moves against your face, brushing back your hair. "Relax. There is nothing you need do. There is no one you need to impress, to apologize to. You did nothing wrong..."
He groans quietly as your weight descends on him, shifting slightly and then settling again. He does not speak; he simply absorbs what you say. He is so often of so few words... but you know, at least, that he is an excellent listener...
"I have needed to feel you," Tiernan admits quietly. Needed to remember that this thing between us is real. These things ... they grow so big in my mind ...
The thoughts are put out there, for you to listen or not, to pluck them from his mind or leave them where they are. You pull him with you, and he moves readily, no resistance to your tug.
"I love you," Tiernan whispers, turning to kiss you. His arms drape against your shoulders; his chest presses to yours. Solidity. Warmth. Reassurance. "I have been with you for two years, Io. The most frightening thing in my world is the thought of losing you. Now ... more than ever. I do not want to become too dependent, though. I ... do not want to choke what we have ... with this need."
His gaze is serious, expression showing his awkwardness, indecision, frustration. "It would be easier if I were a woman, I suppose. I could - cling, and not feel this way. Of course," he barks a sudden laugh, "none of this would have happened, if I were a woman. I feel guilty, Io. I feel as if I've done something wrong. But deus, I don't know what I could have done differently."
"Nothing," Iowerth assures quietly. "There is nothing you could have done differently, Tiernan. And you can cling in private," he grins, "... but I understand what you mean. You did nothing wrong. You are without blame. And you are in my life, you will not lose me. So... let go of that fear, so you can concentrate on other matters."
Leaning in, his eyes half-closing, he kisses you. It is a sweet thing, tender yet again, but it is no light brushing. Iowerth nibbles at your bottom lip, parting the kiss with a suckling tug. "You are not choking anything. And... when you have your own responsibilities, this will help, yes? You need a separate existence. Things of your own, I understand that. But ... no pressure, hmm? You do not need to run off and prove anything. Not to me...not to anyone else."
He cups your face in his hands. "You did nothing wrong, Tiernan. You do not have to earn my love and trust. You have had it already, and you continue to have it." Iowerth kisses you again. While tender, it is also passionate. While reassuring, it is also blossoming, without fear. Of you. Of getting caught. None of it.
It is a brave kiss... a kiss worthy for a king to give, and a prince to receive.
There is that choked sound, held in the back of his throat before being released. There is the whirlwind of emotions. He is overwhelmed; he, who holds his emotions so tightly bound, so stoic he is (unlike your brother) - and now, everything has gone to Hell and he does not know how to deal with this.
But not everything...
I love you...
You have been there for me for two years, Io. It has been two years since I swore myself to you. Since we met, and I realized that in you there was something to which I wished to fasten, to anchor myself in the shifting seas that are in your eyes and nevermore be parted.
Maybe that is what this is. He realizes it suddenly, even as he gives the sea back to the sea, salt tears finally falling as you kiss him. One gives oneself to the sea, and there is no turning from that. Everything else is worn away by the sea; the ocean will have its due. He chose two years ago, on your ship. And he has not undone that choice.
And now, what choice is there? He is with you, and has no desire to change that, torment though he feels. Lips part under yours; eyes are squeezed tightly shut as Tiernan wraps his arms around your waist. "I will let go," he murmurs to you.
"I will let go of everything except you. If I drown, I drown. It is a fitting death for a seaman."
His kiss is the siren's kiss...
It is the kiss of the sea...
Kiss him, and you will not drown, no matter how far down he pulls you. There is safety in his kiss. "You will not drown," he whispers at your mouth, his mouth covering yours again. "You will not drown. My breath is your breath, it will fill your lungs."
You have anchored yourself to the wide and open sea, a lover of the ocean. When he kisses you, you swim in it. But it will not harm you. Swallow it, and you will not drown. Though it is full of whirlpools, of great vortices, you will always survive. The sea knows you.
And loves you...
Iowerth exhales, breath stout sweetened. He brushes your lips with his own. "Let go, for my arms are here. They will catch you. You will not drown." A hand to your face, Iowerth kisses you again. He suckles your mouth, feeding upon it, chewing and soothing. He shows you his passion, his love, even his need. And his strength, it is always there. His other arm enfolds you, drawing you to him.
"Now," he murmurs, his mouth kissing chin, mouth, cheek and back again, "... we will return to the Otherworld shortly and begin creating our realm. But for now... for now it is just you and I. We will stay here a while longer. Just... being with one another. No pressure. Nothing to prove. Just... us..."
The tears have already begun to fall. You cannot dam the ocean; no matter how hard he has tried, the pain is breaking free. You have given him permission, and now, he falls apart.
He does not sob wildly, nor does he rail against importunate fate. You kiss him, and he kisses you back, even as the tears continue to come. His body is wracked with spasms; small ones, muscles twisting as he shudders against you.
Has it ever been just us? Only when we first came here - and not even then. Your brother had his issues, his problems, and always, there have been these difficulties - these distances for us. Only in stolen moments will we ever be just one with the other.
I regret that. But I do not regret our moments, my prince, my king. I do not regret anything that I have done.
That thought, that fact soothes him; bit by bit, your lover grows still in your arms again. Twisting goes to calm, which goes to renewing his hold upon you. He is soothed; just by your presence. "You are all I need, my liege, my love," Tiernan whispers to you, eyes closed, cheeks still smeared with sticky damp residue of tears. "As long as I have you ... this rest ... I can ignore. I can push beyond. Let my skin become your canvas; she owns nothing of me anymore, least of all my fate. Least of all my heart. My mother is dead. My love ... is not."
Posted by rowan at July 11, 2006 12:59 AM
