I had forgotten what it felt like, truly, to have a morning to myself. I called off my meetings, called off my sessions with my ever-increasing staff, put aside all maps, all journals, all papers, and walked out of my mother's castle and into the village.
     I used to despise when Gwilym was right, of being so easily read by him. But now I find the wisdom that there is in it (though he himself would deny any notion of wisdom). It has been so long since I have just spent a morning with myself, walking, thinking, not thinking, that I had forgotten how the village sounded, forgotten how my body moved, how even the slowest stroll produces a pleasing breeze. Even in this chill.
     I close my eyes from time to time as I move through the village and toward the docks, feeling the bite and sting of winter's pecking kisses. It is overcast today. Ships crowd the harbor and sit sleepy in their moorings. Come the spring, they will all bound away like a pack of cooped up greyhounds. I'll be making my own way, then, heading out with a convoy of ships to the islands that I will call home from thenceforth on.
     It is rightly thought that this is the last winter of my youth. The last season that can pass lazily by as uncomplicated as a child. I have treated my time so unwisely, hoarding it like a miser only to spend it without thrift on meetings. I took the matters, all of them, a good deal more seriously than I should.
     And I have done the same with you, Tiernan. Have I choked out all your joy? Do you dread meeting me, I wonder...
     He is not a strange sight on the docks, but he does appear quite out of his fashion. There is no captain's coat, no quick striding march from dock to plank, on his ship from bow to stern. He is walking, strolling as if he were a tourist, along the waterside. On one side, the docks and piers and ships. On the other side, the offices and taverns and warehouses that serve those ships. And he wanders in between.
     He is dressed neither in captain's martial splendor nor princely attire, but in the layers of a would-be scholar. Iowerth Rhudd Draig wears a long brown wool coat over a layer of light sweaters, one brown and the other crimson. His trousers are likewise brown wool ending over sturdy brown suede boots with a good tread on them. A long crimson scarf is wrapped and then tied around his neck, keeping it warm, the ends trailing over his sweater and to his hips. His fiery hair, the deeper tones of copper popping out by the wearing of so much red, is left to be poetically mussed, bits of it this way and that like any proper modern fairy prince (as if) should keep it.
     He would seem to be going nowhere in particular, but it is more correct to say that he is looking to go somewhere but he's not sure where it is. Iowerth looks over the business establishments, nodding to those who bob their heads or tip their caps to him. They haven't the nerve to ask the crown prince if he's lost.

     There is a grey ship with white sails fastened to it; triple-masted, the schooner sits in its berth uncomplainingly while men and elves swarm over its decks with brooms and mops and tools. To one side, crates and cartons of provisions and goods lay in bales, awaiting the time for them to be brought on board.
     The owner of the ship stands to one side, looking less like a merchant-drover than a moderately physically adept poet. A white shirt tucks into plain dun-coloured trousers, arms folded over his chest as he takes shelter in the warmth of his green wool cloak. He is identifiable by the cap of dark curls as much as by the gold lion presently standing knee-high next to him. "Easy, Leon," Tiernan murmurs, gaze fixed on the ship. "No reason to get worked up."
     There's a rumble from the clockwork lion, and Tiernan glances down, smiling faintly. "Well, it's your own fault, isn't it? You won't even fit into the rat holes, now. What do you want me to do about it?" He shakes his head. "You didn't think things through, did you, and now you're regretting the consequences. - Oh, don't you go trying to make this my fault!"
     One or two sailors nearby eye this one-sided exchange and edge away from the duo warily. Tiernan looks up. "No, he can talk, just - not everyone can understand him," he says lamely. "Really." The sailors touch their caps - and keep moving. He looks down at Leon. "See what you get me into?"

     What could the prince be looking for, indeed? He has walked far past his own ship, past his usual haunts, he's not looking for the bawdy houses, he hasn't even slipped into a tavern for a bit of brandy. The answer is standing ahead. He sees you before he sees the schooner. Or rather, he sees the schooner but does not yet know it is yours. But the black curls? He wouldn't miss those anywhere. I can call you at a hundred paces.
     And he is smiling, a quirk of his lips at the corner, quite cat-like, as he walks forward, his hands in his coat's pockets. You might know there's someone significant approaching by the way sailors look over or turn to look backward to someone they've just walked past. If you turn to look, you wouldn't be able to miss him. What other tall, fire-haired person is there who looks as he does?
     I miss you when I am not with you. When I see you, and I feel the dragons squirming in my belly as well as on it, I realize how much I love you. I don't even bother hiding my affection, holding it behind a curtained expression. No, it is there. The curtain is drawn back for all to see. They may not know it for what it is, but you and I do.
     "How are the currents past the breaker today? Or has no one worked up the nerve to check?" Iowerth's voice holds a grin as he comes up within polite shouting distance. "I hear there's been a wicked wind out there today."
     It is only mid-morning. The day's hardly in full swing just yet. And here he is, come out here to find you. Come out here to see what business keeps you. Maybe even to see if he can steal you away for some tea. His face is red from the wind and weather, blushed upon those high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

     It is Leon who draws his attention to you first; with a rumbled purr, the gold lion turns to you, pacing over to rub his golden body against your legs. As big as he now is, he can introduce a stumble even into your pace. "Leon, get back here. He doesn't listen."
     Tiernan rolls his eyes at his companion, then offers you a slow and spreading smile. His emotions are displayed to you; surprise and pleasure, a certain heat that moves from his eyes into his cheeks. He steps away from the gangplank and instead turns to you, looking you up and down. "Noone's yet worked up the courage as far as I know. The Valiant," the ship in front of which you and he stand, "will be going out nonetheless, but probably not until the tide's changed. How are you?"
     There's a hand held out to you loosely, at the height of his hip. It drops again, and you are given that slow smile, it dying away a bit sheepishly around the edges. "How are you?" Tiernan wonders quietly. "Looking for something?" For me?

     He does sort of stumble. Had he been walking at his usual pace he might have fallen ass over tip. "I'm still not used to the size of you," Iowerth remarks to the lion. He's sure that he's getting the same 'You're mad' looks that you get from the sailors, and he cares even less. As the mechanical lion rubs on him like a real cat, he looks at you. His smile spreads to see you.
     I have missed this. Just another morning, just another morning of seeing you and not having everything to fraught with worn emotion.
     "I'm good, even better now that I've canceled all my meetings today. I work too hard," Iowerth drolls out, his expression is dead-pan -- as if it's the first time you've heard such a thing from him. "And I have decided... simply... not to. I wanted to come by and see you. And I realized I had not yet seen your enterprise, and wanted to."
     He warmly takes your hand. He shakes it for the marketplace and he holds it for himself, letting it go at the moment the handshake becomes caress. "I thought I might be able to persuade you to take a cup of coffee with me, or maybe lunch if you have the time. While I have declared this a holiday for Iowerth, I do realize that commerce moves on with or without me." He grins at that, his hand coming up to pat your arm, even grasp it.
     "So," he says, turning to look at The Valiant, "...this is your ship. A nice looking schooner. She looks quite quick. Is she your flagship or is it out on sea?"
     I wanted to see you, his voice presses beneath your skin. Just because I desired to. How great a thing is that. To desire something and just... make it happen. Iowerth smiles, looking from the vessel to you and back again. "I always did like schooners. And caravels."

     One eyebrow calls upwards, and his smile curls upwards, your hand squeezed in his. "The prince is taking a half-holiday? Shocking," Tiernan murmurs. "Quick, listen to that sound? It is the sound of the collapse of Industry. What's next?"
     He lets go of your hand when you do, but there is reluctance to it. It is hard to remember the need for concealment, after Venice. In some ways, he does not want to remember; but he does. "Coffee sounds good. Getting warm sounds good; I'm freezing out here."
     Leon returns to sit on one of Tiernan's feet, tail lazily twitching from one side to the other. Any would-be thieves eyeing him may be discouraged as the lion yawns, revealing those diamond-studded teeth. "Not my flagship, no. The ship you gave me is and will remain that." He grins a little, sliding his hands into his pockets. "But it is one of my most spacious cargo ships. A kingdom down the coast has put in a hefty order, which we've been asked to fill. The flagship's moored offshore for now, despite the weather. There just isn't room until the Valiant departs."
     You speak to him, and it renews his smile; blue eyes glance to you, then slide away. I have been missing you. Absurdly, seeing as you are right here. But I do that, you know. Aloud, he asks, "Would you like to see my offices?"

     It is possible to miss people though they're standing right in front of you. How many times have I passed by you, barely seeing you, missing you all the while? Iowerth grins as you mention The Drake. "It'll hold up in nasty weather. I wouldn't worry about that one. If it can sail through whirlpools," did you know about that? "...then it can get through a bit of rough sea, some fog and rain. I would like to, oes," Iowerth continues brightly after your suggestion. "I was hoping to get a tour."
     His fingers gave your fingers a squeeze everyone else would miss. That was just for you. We have only a little while to be patient, and then we will not have to hide. Stealth is remembered, though rusty. Iowerth claps a hand to your shoulder and leans in. "I do know the harbormaster. If you need another mooring, I can put in a word or two. Maybe even get you the family discount." He grins, his features ruddy and warm. How he is when he is relaxed (and determined to be) is so much different than when you've seen him here. He isn't carrying the whole thing on his shoulders, however broad they may be. He is simply here, he himself.
     "A tour first, and then I'll treat for coffee," he says between the two of you, his voice lowered. It's no secret he murmurs, but the tone is one of intimacy. I have missed you too. And it occurred to me that there was no point in missing you when I could just go out and find you. Periwinkle and green eyes sparkle in a wink and he gestures for you to lead the way. "The order sounds promising. Those who are willing to brave the waters can make quite the pretty profit in the off-season. You have an office right off the docks here? On sailor's row?" It is an interested inquisition. He wants to know all about it, of course. That quick mind seizes on things so easily, and with such a grasp. And that it is something you made only makes his interest all the more keen.

     He is silent and still for a moment; a pause in a quickening world. Then movement resumes, and he pulls back at the natural time to do so. "I may take you up on it," Tiernan tells you with a grin. "I'm running a business, after all." And this falls under something which he can, apparently, accept. Did you know that he was capable of accepting things?
     "Tour first," Tiernan agrees clasping his hands together briskly. "Sailor's row, yes - the closer to the action, the better. I want to be able to keep an eye on things when I'm here - and whoever acts in my name has to be as oriented to details as possible." He turns, nudging Leon affectionately. "Come on, you. Maybe you can find a stray raccoon around the offices."
     Leon climbs off his foot with a mildly indignant squawk, then ambles lazily off in the direction in which Tiernan starts. "Over there," he points, "that two-storey building. We've taken it over by now. The warehouse across from it's half ours; I hope to buy it out completely in the spring." He reaches for a ring of keys at his belt. "I've had to give my lock spiders a miss, for the main locks."

     Iowerth looks in the direction you gesture, his eyes keen upon the sights you indicate. He lifts an eyebrow, a marker and visual admission of his own surprise. You are doing well, and quickly. And he grins. It is not a quiet smile. It is not a closeted, secretive smirk. It is a broad thing, that smile. He is obviously and greatly pleased. "It's a good position, too. Not too far down the docks to be missed, but still in an affordable location so it's not chipping away at your earnings." He nods to what you say on purchasing the warehouse. It would be a good move. Eventually you'll have more than one.
     "You will need to have a few of your ships follow mine to the islands in the spring," Iowerth notes. He looks to you as you and he walk together, Leon ahead. "You can pick out your berth," he whispers, giving you a wink. "The various berths will be bid upon. I am sure they will be purchased and then resold several times over. But... you are no ordinary merchant marine." No, you will have a berth without having to bid on one. You will have it of the king's pleasure.
     There are some fiscal benefits (besides the mere physical) of being the chosen lover of the king.
     And it makes me happy that I can offer such a thing to you. Unrepentantly. Yes, he likes to give you things. And if he can give you things that will actually aid you in your endeavors, all the better. It is a more suitable gift, in his eyes, than trinkets and jewels. Iowerth slides his hands back in his pockets as he follows you to your building.

     He grins at you sidelong, and there is a murmur for your ears only. "I'll be following you. So will quite a few of my people." He has something in mind, more than just following. You know that look. There is something of quiet mischief in his eyes, a brief turbulence to mar the smoothness. He unlocks the door in front of the building (there is an ocean view) and swings it open.
     Inside there is first a medium-sized room which is divided approximately in half. To the left and along the left half of the back wall are desks, the areas divided into marginal cubicles for privacy by sailcloth curtains. To the right, the area is divided in half again; one half, closer to the door, has pigeon holes into which are shoved all number of parchments with varying colours of ribbon and wax sealing them. The other half has a series of chalkboards on which are written various commodities and kingdoms' names - what is being bought and sold, and the latest prices, and correlations noted on the chalkboard furthest to the right.
     A staircase in the back leads further up. Tiernan lets you enter first. "Feel free to look around," he says easily. "Downstairs is the merchant-side of the business. My office - and the other offices - are upstairs."

     "The price of hazelnuts is up by five-eights," he mulls as he glances at the board. "That ought to be making Rhodri happy. He's sitting on a kingdom full of them." Iowerth smiles as he turns to look at you and then take a survey of your set up. He is, in a word, beaming. It is as if you showed him an entire block of such buildings. He is completely proud.
     And smitten all over again...
     "How many are in your employ now?" he wonders. He gaze takes another survey, landing lastly (and always) on you. "You're becoming quite the conglomerate, it seems." In the warmer air of your structure, his winter-reddened skin begins to return to its natural coloring.
     "Shall we go upstairs, then? I want to see your office. Command central," Iowerth grins. He gestures for you to lead the way, even as other inquiries light his eyes and trip from the tip of his tongue. "You've built up quite a business in a short time. I'm not surprised. I'm just so happy for you." There's a brief pause as he looks to you with genuine, beaming pride. "And if you can't tell by looking at me, very proud of you, Tiernan."
     His smile slants at your tone and your sidelong grin. Yes, you are up to something. I'm glad I can help. Iowerth chuckles quietly, the sound captured in his throat. "I will be sure to let you know when the departure time nears," he murmurs. "We may go ahead of the rush. I think once the winds turn fair, the sea will be set upon like the last woman on earth during shore leave."

     His cheeks colour, never comfortable with open praise. But he is pleased all the same. "Five ships and their crew; the Valiant is my largest, manned by eighty right now. About 120 for the other four ships, in total, so two hundred for crew. In the office, I've got three managers, each of whom have two assistants at my insistence. The assistants are being trained with everything they know; both in case of emergency and so that ultimately, if it works out, they can go man offices of their own in other cities."
     He goes to one of the 'cubes', pulling the curtain open. "These are enchanted," Tiernan explains, "so when they're drawn, whoever's inside has privacy against eavesdropping and scrying. This lets would-be patrons meet with our people - with a code to override in case anything untowards happens."
     His hand brushes yours as he heads to the stairs with a long-legged stride. "Up here," his voice floats down as he heads up, "I've got my brain trust's offices. Largely empty right now. But there's eight I've found so far, and I'm interviewing more over the course of the winter. And my office is down the hallway, at the end."
     It is not the largest room in the place. It isn't small - but it isn't that big, either. There is a desk, and there are some bookshelves, only some of which are presently occupied. The window faces the harbor, though at only a two storey building, it doesn't allow for that much of a view. However, there's also another staircase in his office, leading to the roof of the building.
     "What's the point of having offices right on the water and a shipping industry," Tiernan tells you, leaning against the rail and folding his arms, "without a widow's walk?"

     "It's more than a good beginning," Iowerth notes, walking along with you. As you lean against the rail, he comes beside you. "Soon, you'll have two buildings. One here, one on the islands." His islands, though they are more than his. They belong to the collective wishes, dreams, hopes and aspirations of any and all who call them home. "Will you keep this as your main base, then? Or will you relocate and leave this as your satellite?"
     Just because he has to go live on the islands and begin his rule, doesn't mean you have to trot your business across the globe to follow him. Of course, he hopes you do just that. But he will not ask you to do so just for him.
     He steals a touch or two as the both of you lean there. It is still quite cold, and the higher you stand, the colder it gets. The coffee is sounding better all the time. "I am excited to see what this venture of yours continues to become," Iowerth murmurs, looking to you. He smiles softly, his interest in your interest running deep. Now that he's actually seen it with his own eyes, your venture catches his imagination.
     You have a good-sized staff, a good core of ships. You are on your way. And you are doing it yourself. Iowerth exhales a grin and straightens. "Let's have a cuppa and sit by a fire, hmm? My royal bits are frozen solid." He chuckles, his eyes twinkling with what he doesn't say: I'd rather you thaw them with your mouth and hands...

     "I will have more than that," Tiernan answers confidently. "I intend to open offices in a variety of kingdoms, if I can - whichever major ports I do the most business in. It has been keeping me busy, getting all of this together, but fortunately, I have my own clock. It gives me all the time I need."
     You lean with him, and he slides his arm around your waist, rolling against the railing until he can lean against you instead. "Let's not have a cuppa," Tiernan murmurs, his hand sliding against your thigh. "Why don't we go home instead? You took the day off; I'm done for the day." He pulls back fractionally. "I can set Leon to act as watch lion, of course," he adds lightly, "if you don't want to take that long about it."
     You are not alone in your desire. It seems fighting it off this long has been quite enough, and more than enough, for your lover. His hands find their way against you in thoroughly inappropriate ways, sheltered from view by the staircase as you and he both are. You are given time to protest, to demur, but he makes his proposal known.

     He does not ask Are you sure? -- for if you were not, you would not have offered. Instead, the stairway becomes crowded with only you and he. His skin is chilled (though quickly warming), but his mouth is better than brandy, coffee or anything else that could be imbibed for heat. He is unconcerned for who might enter. It is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. Your hands are on him, moving past his coat to find his sweater layers. His skin is warm beneath that -- the sweaters are finely knitted, as is the scarf.
     The kiss that wanted to materialize at the docks, on your gangplank even, in front of all the sailors coming in and out of this busy port does so at last on your private stairway, erupting. He shows you his desire for you. He unpacks it all without hesitation.
     "The ship is closer," Iowerth murmurs. Though he has not been residing there since the weather turned -- no matter how luxurious a ship is, it is impossible to escape the weather on one. You feel winter never so strongly as you do when on water. But who's going to feel the cold now.
     Iowerth sighs, his mouth findings yours again, the wide-open kiss immediately heated. His hands, though they want to find your skin beneath the cloth you wear, remain outside of your layers, holding and grasping you -- and warming themselves all the while.
     "I wanted to kiss you on the docks," Iowerth whispers at your ear as his mouth finds your neck, plucking against your skin until your blood reacts and warms your skin. "You, standing there with Leon... I could see your dark hair from the rigging of The Draigamor." Likely a lover's exaggeration, but he could see you from a distance. "You are amazing," he murmurs it against your lips. "More so... every time I see you. And I fall in love again, all over again."

Posted by rowan at October 18, 2006 03:18 PM