The darkness comes and takes; that is all darkness does. It is an appetite, devouring, that cannot be sated, and can only be defeated by sacrifice. It would be nice if I could pretend that I were some sort of tragic hero, oes? Poor Gwilym, look how he suffers. But I can't. It's not like that at all...
     He hangs upside down by one leg from a beam in a bit of ceiling, arms folded over his chest with one eye open and one eye closed. His other leg tucks behind the one that holds him up; the floor is very far away, very far below. Black trousers, white shirt, black boots, and nothing else - just something of a bat impression, by most people's standards.
     Of course, he's not most people. Neither, for that matter, is anybody he knows.
     Someday I will just let go...

     This little piggy went to market...
     Large, the body of the grand rook that wanders like an executioner along the high beam...
     This little piggy stayed at home...
     He eases forward, head cocked to his roost-mate.
     This little piggy had roast beef...
     Who better to take a squat beside the Hanged Man than the harbinger of Death and Dreams?
     This little piggy had none...
     The raven cocks his head to his master, then to the floor and then it transforms to a leather-clad Aeron sitting there on the high beam, with both of his legs dangling over.
     "And this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home," the rhyme just doesn't sound the same upon his voice, from that mouth. He looks down, his dark red hair windswept. "It's not high enough to do any real damage, you know." And then he turns his head toward you. "Not that it matters, since you would either transform to a starling on your way down or crack your head open and the regenerate with a smashing headache. You've seen him," he posits, answering his own question as he frequently does.
     But he's not worried about Loki just now. He'll visit him later. Aeron's gaze and Aeron's thoughts are on his king. "Brother-king," he murmurs, "...you are too hard on yourself. Do not do the Universe's work for It."

     "I've seen him," Gwilym agrees. He closes both eyes so he doesn't have to think about it. "I'm not being that hard on myself, Aeron. Duw. No harder than I deserve, in any case."
     He smiles, a self-mocking slash of a smile, aimed at you and himself and at No One At All. "I should have held it together better. I should have protected him from things. Including Myself."
     Gwilym sighs, and he pulls himself upright, leg coming out from behind its mate and tucking over the beam. He pulls himself up so that he dangles by powerful arms from the beam instead, and yanks himself up onto the beam to take a seat as he looks over at you.
     "I made a promise when I took him on. Maybe not a spoken one, but it was a promise, oes? And I failed."

     "He's not going to be much of a priest if you go about protecting him," Aeron notes quietly, evenly. "You are as you are. You have your Fate the same as anyone. If he is not... or cannot become strong enough to bear it then... that is on him. It was a good lesson. And a good reminder to him. I don't think he took things very seriously until then."
     Aeron looks ahead at his own thoughts, even at his own mistakes. Apparently it's Confessional Night in the Den of Thieves. "I should apologize to you for intervening. Perhaps if I had not, he would have shown resilience, my king. You were, in that moment, right. You were seeing something. I didn't believe he was strong enough. I believe the mistake is... was... mine. I should have ... I should put my faith in him. Or at least let him stand on his own feet and merits. You were pushing the chick out of the nest the other night," Aeron glances to you, his lips curling ruefully. "And I saved him."
     He exhales at the missed game, the missed opportunity, the mistaken perception. "The fault is mine, so... you can stop blaming yourself. The ocean makes neither apology nor excuse for itself. Why should you? The wind blows, Your Majesty, and sometimes it gales. It does not second guess."

     "Maybe not." Gwilym sighs, lying back on the beam. "But I feel I failed him, Aeron. As for intervening, it's done," he waves a hand. "I'm not angry with you. It is what it is, oes?"
     He closes his eyes. "If I destroy his faith in me, Aeron, how good a priest is he going to be? But it's my fault, not yours..."
     "It is what it is." Aeron looks at you with the upraising of an eyebrow. "So, why are we apologizing again?" You miss the twist of his smile with the closing of your eyes. "I will speak with him. I need to anyway," he notes. "I ... want him to be a success. For You and for Our Work. I have been hard on him, partly because it is my way. But," his mouth puckers in his thoughts, "also... I was ...jealous of the attention. I did not like that he was ...different from Romero...for you. I am still not so much a fan of it, but I understand, My Liege..."

     "I don't know why we're apologizing." Gwilym sounds frustrated. He sits up again, turning to look at you with a twist of his expression, and his hand shoots out to grab at your shirt. "Duw. What do I need to do? Aeron, you are my brother, my lover, and there is nothing for you to be afraid of."
     "Hell, he should be jealous and paranoid of you, not the other way around," Gwilym grumbles and tugs you closer fitfully, giving you a one-eyed glower. "D'you really believe I'd let him do things to me the way I do you...?"

     What shirt there is. It is woven of shadows and dissolves, ephemeral, when you touch him, master of shadows that you are. Your hand thuds on skin and muscle and the inky dark carvings of the fragments of poems. "No," he says after a moment. "No... I know you would not," Aeron says quietly. "That... only I can do. I know who I am, and who you are. What you need. And what I give you."
     As much as the past four days were a reminder for you, they were a reminder for him.
     "You are my Fate, my Friend, and the only one I love. So... no... I do not doubt you, My King. I do not doubt this. I would love you and serve you if you had a thousand Lokis. If I had to tuck pillows under their heads every night, I would do so. Until the End of All, do you have my loyalty and love. And so... your choice? He should have my support and faith. As much as I gave it to you. He is... like me... one who serves. Right now? Not so willingly. But ..he wants to. You have not ruined that. He ... needs to know that I am on his side, however." Aeron grins wickedly. "I don't think I've been very clear on that."

     He reddens; there are few who can make him blush, but the reminders, tangible mentions of his needs can do so as so little else can. "I ... think that you do need to make that clear," Gwilym allows, voice falling quieter. "He needs to know that we are on his side - that it is not murkier than it already is..."
     He leans in towards you, eyes closed, his weakness on display for you, and only for you. His lips part at your shoulder...

     Aeron closes his eyes. There is only one in the universe who has ever seen a tender moment from him. It happens rarely, for it demands vulnerability. In the shadow realms, on the road you walk, who has time for that? But it is there. It is the gift he gives you.
     As you kiss his shoulder, the raven in man's form twists as if tucking his head under a wing, to kiss the crook of your neck. The rook sighs there. "I will speak with him," he promises. "And I will... make sure that he knows my purpose and place, my king."
     And I will not tell him of this. I will not speak of it, the secrets we share in this place where you and I can be known and wounded. We have hearts, though we hide them well. A master thief always keeps his best jewels in a secret stash. Aeron keeps that to himself as he closes his eyes and roosts with you.
     "No more blame. We move together. We right our course. And we keep moving," Aeron whispers. "Always."

Posted by rowan at May 07, 2009 08:29 PM