Drops of water fall into the stream of shadows...
     ... drip...
          ...drop...
               ...drip...
     Your Majesty...
     The voice of your father, the Holly King Emeritus, sounds within the darkness and your mind. I need to speak with you. A secure and private location. It is urgent.
     The herald Rooks fly off their sentinel roosts, shadows becoming clouds of birds as they shift the dark material of the universe toward the Center of All Things.
     Davydd ap Owain lifts his head along the shadowed road, his being ever cloaked like the Black Jack Davy when he appears there. The Thief of Old looks up to see the ravens fly and flying ravens become the sky.

     He is exhausted with the strain of his own work; his own personal dramas, although he would not speak of them, no, not in a million years (if ever). Gwilym Gwyn Garu rises from the darkness of his (empty) bed and steps into shadow.
     Stepping into shadow clothes him in shadow; just as well, you don't need to see it (or want to). Hands in his pockets and walking as if heedless of the many dangers, your younger by five minutes son approaches you, one eye hidden behind a wing of shining red-gold hair. He looks innocuous, doesn't he? A callow, handsome youth, wandering the Fool's Road before the universe. "Da," he greets you, and he drops to a crouch, and the Fool is less visible. He isn't smiling.
     And as he speaks to you, the road moves, although you and he remain on the road, and the universe rearranges itself like building blocks. No longer on the road, then, but in the courtyard of the Center of All Things. A pause, and the Holly King tips his head; an armchair falls to land a few feet away from you. He tips his head again, slightly differently angled; another one, and then an end table with brandy bottle and tumblers. He straightens, satisfied. "What's wrong?"
     His voice is quiet, devoid of its usual grin and sly accents and knowing looks. Perhaps it's that you say it's an emergency. Who knows? But he came. He is here. And here you are.

     Davydd smiles with deep affection, though it is a tempered look. "For now, this cannot leave the confidence of this room, but if my boyos are about," he glances around to the perhaps invisible sentinel twins, his dear boys, "...that's fine. I trust them to keep it." He takes a seat with a sigh and his face shows the wear of the evening's emotion.
     "Tiernan... is... well, in a manner of speaking, son, he's dying. That's a melodramatic way of putting it. In truth, he's being called to duty on a higher plane than this. It's the same result. He will be able to watch over his family, as all spirits do. But whether or not they ever see him again, he is not sure. I believe... this has been building for a long time, and he has fought it for a long time. But there's no resisting it. God is calling him."
     Davydd calls up a selection of spirits far stronger than the average scotch. Two glasses already poured; if you sip at it, it will refill. From one Holly King (emeritus) to another. "Your brother's not expecting this, and I can only assume he will be absolutely devastated. He's going to need you. Let alone his children."

     He listens in silence throughout what you say, and then he sighs, rubbing two fingers against the space between his eyebrows. "He'll be devastated," Gwilym agrees quietly. "Duw, they all will be. This isn't going to end well, da. But I think you're worrying about the wrong person, in some ways."
     He exhales, and then he drinks, and if it weren't for the refilling, it'd be empty now. Ordinarily he might make some crack about Cuchulainn and the sea, but not today. There was a time when I was almost have welcomed this news, except for the pain it will cause my brother. And now? What do I do now?
     "Balthazar's going to be gutted. And he's the new Oak King, Sun King, Summer King," Gwilym points out. "How do the men in this family tend to express their grief, da? I'm more worried about that than I am about Io. Don't get me wrong, I'm plenty worried about Io too." He grumbles. "I know it's in bad taste to joke about, da, but couldn't you just - bite him?"

     "I could," Davydd says. "But I wouldn't." He looks into his glass. "It's not life, son. And to be stuck on the Wheel, unable to move," he shakes his head. "No... I'm paying my karmic debt as I may. But I'd not visit it on him. It's not his choice, really. God calls whom It calls. If we do not answer, we become lost things. He's just not able to hide it anymore, his ascension. In truth, he's been gone for a while now. I just think... everyone's been so busy, none of us have really noticed." He smiles a bit at that.
     Davydd sighs, face in his hand. "I know. Balto..." he exhales loudly again, shaking his head. "Balthazar and Ani both, not that the rest of them do not love their father," he tacks on, "...but Balto and Ani in particular are very tied to their father, Tiernan. They hang upon him. They always have. As much, if not more, than Io himself. Gillian will be put to the test, same as you, same as all of us. We'll have to support one another the best way we can. With Balthazar, we may need to point him in the direction of some place that needs to be obliterated. I need flame resistant clothing."
     Davydd pauses to take a drink. "Tiernan is ... very aware of the vacuum he's about to create. I've already talked to your mother. We're going to ask that everyone start assembling in Flowering Tree for a family gathering at Yule. Gruffydd will come if he is able, I'm sure, or he will at least come and go. He's better about that than Io ever was. I've asked Tiernan to tell Iowerth now, before Yule. Before he has too much time to think that he's going to have a future with him. To be merciful and to be quick. It could come as early as tonight, as tomorrow. I do not know."

     "Duw..." Gwilym shakes his head slowly. But what can be done? What can he do? Only what he has always done. "I'll clear my calendar for the next week or so. As long as Io needs, really, but he can't stay with me very long. I am a good place for hiding, for hidden things, da, but he has a family who will need him. I think, to be fair, that he will know that, that he does know that, but..."
     He rubs his forehead, feeling his eyes prickle, feeling in advance an echo of his twin's pain. "So when do we get to become atheists?"

     Davydd rises with a helpless chuckle. "That way's no easier, sadly. Believe it or not," he exhales, his hand clapping to your shoulder, "...this is the smoother path. You'll need to take care of yourself," your father says pointedly. "I... would appreciate you keeping close to him whenever you're able, whenever he most needs you. But...we're all going to have to support Io. Your mother and I are going to help with Ani whenever needed. We'll probably move back to the Capitol City, to make sure Ani has all the support he needs to finish school. And we've two weddings to do in short order. The work won't be going anywhere. We'll just have to pitch in, all of us. For the first couple of weeks," he says, hand going to your head, "... if you could be with your brother, I think that would be of great help to him. And then you'll need to be spelled. We'll, all of us, be there for one another. That's all we can do, son. Just love one another and to be there to listen and support. And in the case of Balthazar, stop drop and roll."

     "I'll do my best, da." Gwilym sighs and nods. Now is not the time to mention his own problems. Not that he would. "Right-ho. Send word when Tiernan drops the nuclear bomb? Assuming I don't feel the blast directly. I'll go hit the paths of Chaos extra hard tonight, make a personal declaration of war there. They won't know what hit them and it'll leave them going 'what the fuck' long enough for me to have a respite when I need it."
     He looks into his glass. I wonder how this will end up. We cannot be together as Tiernan is - was - to him; my work wouldn't allow it, nor would his pride. It would be unhealthy for us both, and I know it. But ... I hope he will not have to be alone...
     And then it dawns on him, and he shakes his head, filing that sudden belief away for later. "He has been good to us. I think the capitol's going to end up with a statue like mum's in Flowering Tree, don't you?"

     "I think that will be the least of the tributes to Tiernan in the City and beyond. He's done so much for us, but he's also been extremely popular throughout the kingdoms. So... yes... I imagine there will be ... a lot of outpouring of both grief and gratitude. And tributes. His sons will see to that. And Iowerth shall, I'm sure. I will miss him, personally. I said my goodbyes today. I'm sure you will have your opportunity to do so before he goes."
     Davydd smiles to you a little. "I know you'll do your best. You always do, boyo." He leans over and hugs you a bit before stepping away. Davydd puts his hands to his face, rubbing it and his eyes. "We're in for long nights. Oh," he lowers his hands and looks to you, "...we're still celebrating Yule, Your Majesty. We're going to need some help making it and keeping it merry. For Ani, if for no other reason. I've given your mother carte blanche. The Holly King will have his due, as usual. But this year, we're going to need his special blessings, oes? Hope, most of all."

     He hugs you, patting your back before he steps back. "I will do my best to be merry, but my particular brand of merriment isn't usually fit for children, da," Gwilym drawls. It is an effort, but he makes the effort, an puts on that wicked grin of his. "Long nights, oh no! What will we do."
     More seriously, he adds, "I'll be in touch, da. For now..." He waves a hand, and the furniture vanishes. "I'd best get to work, oes? The door will take you to mum. Try to keep a cheerful countenance. I know in our family that's not easy, but remember that when someone passes on, there's always something new around the corner, still."
     He turns, and he steps into shadow, and he's gone again. Behind you, a brass-bound heavy door opens invitingly to your own bedroom. He is a cheeky bastard - and always trying to make people smile, when he isn't trying to kill them.

Posted by rowan at August 08, 2010 07:49 PM