It is his own private paradise. But within a year, certainly two, this square will be filled with people, commerce, emissaries and government. On the main island and under the shadows of the future king's basilica palace, a large forum and public square is the first stop any tourist or businessman or woman shall make upon arrival. There are several vias that lead to the ports, docks and piers, with waterfront markets for fish and other goods already waiting to flourish.
The main square, or forum, is a large marble and limestone surface flanked on all sides by grand structures with their nod to classical architecture. The treasury, the library, the hall of business and government stand at each side of the grand square, marble steps leading upward from the square and leading between the columns and facade adornments of these buildings. The very center of the square is dominated by a grand marble fountain depicting seadragons and ships. The only activity in this square is the rise and fall of the patterned water and the stroll of the future king.
It is a warm day, made warmer by the reflection of the sun upon all the bleached white marble. Iowerth strolls shirtless, his upper body and arms so vividly adorned with such seadragons, his lower body covered by midnight colored cotton trousers, the equivalent of modern cargos. Upon his feet, a pair of thongs, cushions of cotton and cork in a structure of deep brown leather. Turning, he gestures to the buildings, to the eye-sight and views of the ports and piers below. "Militarily speaking, there are good sight-lines here. You can see the outer approach to the islands, the docks below, and the approach to two other islands from here."
He has been leading you on a tour again, and this the final stop of the developed islands. "This will, by default, be the most secured island. But I don't want to neglect the smaller, even less approachable islands. Some are quite sheltered given their position, but there are other avenues for approach besides the sea...that is what I'm hoping you can assist me with, Gwilym. My minister of defense?" He grins at you, eyebrows cocking upward.
Business has been at the forefront by necessity. But as always there are moments of deep emotions. These have been left unspoken today, merely shared in the silence that falls between completed sentences. "I want your eyes, my second pair of eyes," Iowerth notes, "...to tell me what I have not seen... or what could be improved. You do not have to answer now," he grins quietly, his wandering steps leading to the fountain. Bending, he dips his hand into the clear coolness of it and then sips from it. The water is obviously not from the sea...
He has been watching everything, taking everything in. In his imagination, he is peopling your island with those of the worst repute. Thieves. Assassins. Mercenaries. Rogues. Blackguards of every description wander through the crowds in his mind's eye, and he watches what you show him with that in his mind, in his thoughts. "Better not make anything too official or put it down on paper," he drawls now to you, though without lifting his gaze from marbled halls. "It'll only lead to scandal, you can be sure."
Imagine, your brother - getting caught at something so prosaic as shoplifting, for instance. Some minister of defence that'd prove to be! Your grin is returned, mischief glinting sharply behind emerald eyes as he turns to regard where you and he stand. "How much are you able to change the layouts of things? You ... built all this," he gestures, "but I don't know how you did it. So I don't know what is possible and what is impossible."
He is not dressed in black today, with that sun so often to beat down, with noone here to see him but you. Instead, he began with a white shirt tucked into tan breeches. The shirt was pulled loose within an hour; opened to hang within two. By now he is as shirtless as you, wearing it as some impromptu turban wrapped around his head. He sits on the edge of the fountain as you bend, folding his arms.
"You've protected it fairly well for an approach, but what about for distance?" Gwilym raises his eyebrows to you. "I'd recommend setting up a trickier approach; shoals underneath, the maps held as a matter of state security. Or possibly, with your engineer - adjustible artificial shoals whose configuration varies from day to day. Ships can't merely enter; they'd need to be led in via guide boats. Thus guaranteeing there's no way for a hostile force to get within firing range of your shores, and an added precaution against invasion."
"I had thought of something similar," Iowerth nods, his periwinkle and sea-foam eyes quickening to yours, bright with Thought and Planning. Such an aphrodisiac is kingdom building and architecture. He is able to really and truly express himself in the building of this. It is his artwork, being able to cash in the coins of his dreams and purchase such a thing as this. Sitting on the lip of the fountain (wide enough that it is a natural bench for whomever might want to loiter here in the future), he looks from you to the docks and ports below. "I had thought of using whirlpools, and there are some around other islands, artificial impediments. But I like your idea of using shoals and reefs, of in fact restricting approach without direct approval of and escort by the king's official." Nodding again, he files that in his thoughts. "I will pull the maps later and study them. I think each island would have to have its own system for approval and escort. Some islands will be inaccessible to any save the royal family. At least for now."
His smile is warm as he looks back to you, the sun already coloring his skin. He is so fair, the red-head that he is, at least where midnight-colored tattoos don't rest. "Particularly the idea of the adjustable shoals. Yes... I like that very much. I'm certain Tiernan can put his mechanical mind to that."
Swinging his legs around and turning his back on his bays, Iowerth submerges his feet in the cool water with a sigh. Bending, he rolls up his pants legs. The water is three-feet deep, almost enough to wade in. "I should have built a public pool," he smirks. "The summers here are going to be hot if today's any indication. As for what I can change... it would take some labor, magical that is, to reframe things, but it can be done if need be. I am hoping, however, that we can avoid reconstruction as it tends to make me a bit knackered for a few days. I did it by... stepping into my own oracle vision and expending energy to make it real. It was a magical process, involving a lot of sweat." His mouth twitches as his feet slowly kick back and forth in the water. A lot of sweat and a lot of sex. "My ... particular powers tend to involve a lot of salt, sea, and sex. Apparently, I'm not good for much else," he chuckles at that.
"But if you think there's something I ought to change, configuration wise," Iowerth continues, head tilting as he looks at you. Christ, what a siren he makes sitting on a marble fountain, legs dangling in the water, with that look upon his face. "Maybe I ought to do it... and put a pool in," Iowerth suddenly grins. "I'm going to have to add one somewhere," he murmurs to himself but not hiding such thoughts from you.
He bends forward, dipping his shirt-swaddled head into the water of the fountain, letting the cloth become sodden as the gurgling streams flow over it. One hand holds it in place as he straightens again, letting cold water sputter and sprinkle over his face, forming rivulets and rivers on his back and chest. "There will always be those who will try to find ways around the law."
You receive that almost impudent grin in return as he looks at you, but then he is continuing, more seriously now. "You don't want to make it entirely impossible, Io. Difficult, oes. Mostly impossible, maybe. But if an environment is so locked down that a thief cannot be a thief, then you run the risk of things becoming stagnant. Decay masquerading as Order."
Gwilym rocks forward and up to his feet, pacing slowly back and forth with his hands tucked behind his back. Long fine fingers wrap around his opposite wrist, the captive hand's fingers curled inwards, towards the palm. "Right now, I can't think of anything which would require you go to such ... extremes," your brother pauses to smirk at you, "but I'd suggest some parapets at the outermost edges of the islands. Crow's nests on land instead of only water. Did you include a lighthouse? And you didn't put a pool in already? I should disown you."
"There's one inside," he notes, "...but I should have thought of the rest of you," he drolls. "And I've no intention on locking it down so tight as all that. It would impede trade, the free-flow of Ideas I want to engender. It can't and won't be a prison. Besides, you'd never visit if you couldn't steal something."
Spinning about so his legs are hanging over the outer edge of the fountain, Iowerth leans back and closes his mouth and eyes to let one of the free-flowing founts drench his hair and face. He gives a shake as he sits up, a hand raking through his now wet hair and smoothing it back. It sticks up spiky here and there, starting to curl in other spots. "There are two lighthouses out of necessity. One on an outcropping on the north side," he gestures behind him, "...and another one on one of the other, currently vacant islands. It's a pretty treacherous drive if you don't know what you're doing. Rocks, submerged islands, whirlpools, dragons. You name it. Course, the whirlpools and dragons can be dealt with easily enough if you feed me."
A smooth smile slants across his mouth, tugging and pulling like the hands of an impish child. "You know, in a few months I'm not going to be able to do this without causing a scene," he drolls and then he's rising, standing tall and proud on the wide lip of the fountain and promptly removing his trousers. The cotton drawers are tossed to warm themselves on the sun-bleached stone as the future high king wades naked in the center of the public square.
"You and I can go over the plans for each island. I think we can do that in a bit, what say you, over some wine and good food. This place is going to be incredible, I think," he says as he casts his eyes about, taking in the marketplace and forum. The future king takes up a perch on the sculpture itself -- its enormity now becoming clear as Iowerth himself is dwarfed by it. Water shoots across him there, drips along him here, as he becomes a part of the art.
"Absolutely right, older brother." All of a minute and a half older, but he'll never let you forget it. Gwilym grins at you as he swipes his shirt off his head, letting it dangle and finally fall to the ground. "You should think of the rest of us. And what's the fun of visiting if I don't get to express myself in the way that I know best?"
He nods as you speak of lighthouses and their raisons d'etre, quirking his eyebrows up. "Feed you?", he echoes. But then you are rising, and a half-wary, half-humourous eye is turned upon you.
"A scene, or an orgy," Gwilym cracks as you divest yourself of clothing. "If the king does it, everyone else might be inclined to as well, you know. It'd be the start of something, anyway." He pushes his own breeches down, letting them fall and then climbing over the edge of the fountain after you unhurriedly. "I think food and drink will help, oes. This sun takes it out of me."
He laughs as he looks up at you, shading his eyes, then shakes his head. "Don't fall," Gwilym calls out. "You break your neck, and mum'll want me to take your place."
"The bottom of the fountain will break my fall," Iowerth says, humor riding on his tone, edging the rise and fall of syllables. He is not so high, himself, but the dragons seem to writhe around forever. "I suspect that there will be some amount of free expression," he continues, climbing down (carefully, as water makes marble slick) and returning to the fountain's shallow pool. Free expression -- you see it in his eyes -- that's an understatement. "I do not believe in sexual repression. I'm no puritan," as well you know. "I'm sure there will be dinner parties that go... horribly awry..."
And right here in the public square, what shall be the public square with an actual public in the passing of the next half year, the future king of kings kisses you. The kiss itself was inevitable. It was going to transpire. The only question was when. At dinner? After? Now. "When you are walking through this square," Iowerth whispers to you, "...you will have that to recall. Others will be walking by this fountain, oblivious to the fact that it has been witness to such an illicit embrace." His mouth forms a crooked smile again as he inclines his head. You feel his arms snaking around you. "Will you blush if you see other lovers kissing here?"
Is it the sun or is it him?
If it were midnight and all the shops were closed but windows still showed the glow of wakened light, such an embrace would be far more dangerous than what occurred in your mother's library, but it is still bold. There is still that element of risk, though the city is vacant. It is easy for the mind to pretend that there are guards who could arrive, or pirates who might be sailing by who happen to point a spyglass to the newly formed city. Though such is certainly not likely, it is enough to fuel that element of risk and sharpen the next kiss that comes between you.
He laughs, watching you climb, standing there as you approach him. "Sexual repression? Gods forbid. I think that I am looking forward to your dinner parties. The only difficulty will be in deciding whether to be at the table or behind a curtain."
Your arms wind around him, and the kiss is answered with kiss in return. "Blush? No," Gwilym murmurs as he tastes your mouth. "I will watch them with a slow and secret smile of what I know that they do not. What I am priveleged to experience that they will not. I am a thief, Io. I know something of the value of treasures."
A hand falls to your waist, grasping at your hip and squeezing. Two naked men in a fountain; and for a moment, there is a flash of something bittersweet in his eyes. There and gone again. "I value you, my brother," he whispers. "Above all my other treasures. There is noone your equal. For none other would I consider such things, you know." His other hand comes up to touch lightly to your cheek, and Gwilym chuckles, a soft sound in the back of his throat as he glances down. "Looks like it's about noon."
He laughs with a glance downward. "I hear sundials are becoming all the rage," he murmurs, his mouth brushing a kiss at yours. Open-mouthed, he teases, plucking at your lips, promising a grasping kiss but not yet delivering. "I am happy to be such a treasure in your eyes. You who know me best. To know all my flaws but still consider me a jewel. Hmm... perhaps at these ...dinner parties... some may be masques..."
He sucks strongly at your lower lip, and then your tongue, his mouth a whirlpool more dangerous than the charybdal abyss. What a ...not so novel idea. Dinner masques... in anonymity might your liberty be found? Iowerth's lips are full, soft as they ply against your own, leaving small kisses behind like a trail of breadcrumbs to your neck and then ear. "Let's head inside... we will have wine and plan our first state dinner."
He can't help the chuckle, lyrical and heated, at your ear as he suckles at the lobe and lightly chews. Fingers close around the risen flesh, sliding lightly as if by accident as he draws away. Water splashes, cooling sunburned skin, as Ioweth steps out of the fountain and retrieves his trousers.
They are not put on again, but merely held. And though there is some minimal distance between the two of you now, his gaze easily puts an end to that. It tugs even as it gazes. It is physical, a stroke of his hand would touch no less.
Until the time that this island teams with life, you and I will have the full freedom we deserve. And once the crowds begin to press, then my brother...you and I will simply have to... put our heads together and devise other solutions. I have no fear... for we are clever...
A wide smile cuts across his expression as his gaze takes the fullness of you in -- some parts more than others. "I am getting sunburned. I do not want our only touches to be that of you putting aloe on my tender skin."
Posted by rowan at September 05, 2006 01:15 PM
