Everything is so clear...
     I can see oceans giving way to new mountains, new ideas, prosperity and challenge. There will be fire. But there will always be new grass after...
     Bubbles leave his mouth, and lavender eyes open beneath the water's surface to gaze upon the possible future. There are as many as there are bubbles, each one containing a different dream. His curly black hair drifts in a dark halo around his angelic face. He blinks, closing his eyes...
     Gruffydd straightens from the bathroom sink, water chiming, clattering on the marble countertop and tiled floor. He opens his eyes and breathes, exhaling upon his reflection in the mirror. His hair is inky black in its wetness, the curls beginning to tighten, ringlets with water becoming more distinct and more tangled. He lifts a towel to his face, drying it.
     After a night such as that, so bare and so open, he has been submerged in a neverending pool of meetings. You were there for some, and Preston too. But others required your attention, his pulled in other directions, and Preston had his outing with Adriano. You saw his face. You know how he bears himself before others, his quiet demeanor, his thoughtful command, his incredible grasp of the matters of the state. But you know him. You know him better than anyone.
     Gruffydd lowers the towel, folding it as he sets it aside. He is dressed all in black today, a simple black sweater (autumn is deepening), and black leggings with black boots. He stands for a moment, basking in the quiet, hearing only the bubbles of futures in his ears. There is still that face, young in these moments when he believes himself alone, that belongs to a Dreaming Boy, dark curls tumbling about his face.

     She is there, after all meetings, her nymphs dispersed to their own tasks. She's standing in the doorway, dressed in cream-coloured silks dyed with dark green fringe. She looks you up and down and smiles, moving to tuck one of your curls up behind your ear.
     "How was it?" Maria asks you quietly. Her own hair has been subdued - barely - by a thick, unqueenly braid that she disdains to make more elegant. She has conceded to wear a dress instead of leggings and tunic for her meetings, but that is her only concession of the day. Her opponents will have found her shrewd and uncompromising. "You look like you need time to fly free, at least in your own mind."

     Gruffydd turns to look at you, as you tuck a curl behind his ear. "My mind is like a balloon. If you do not hold it, it will drift away into outer space." He smiles, ready affection in his face. He has missed you. He lifts a hand to stroke your cheek. "It is a good thing, then," he murmurs, "...that you have me tied around your finger. Or I would drift off."
     Arms come around you, and he pulls you into a warm and soft embrace. "It was fine. It is difficult to watch father prepare to go. He sends his love. He was sorry you could not be there. How are the negotiations going?" he wonders. He pulls out of the hug and takes your small hand in his, his fingers stroking the back of your hand as his thumb presses into the heart of your palm.
     Gruffydd lifts it to his mouth and then he moves forward, walking with you out of the bath and into the chamber you share. Food appears at a whim, all sweets and chocolates and comfort food. It is good your husband exercises so much or he would be the roundest king in all the united kingdoms!

     She laughs, nuzzling into your chest as you hug her. "The negotiations are going well - for us. Not as well as the merchants would hope. They were hoping that a coronation would mean full pockets for them as opposed to a mere honest profit." Maria pulls back, eyes snapping merrily as she purses her lips at you. "I heard some of them muttering about dealing with a mere woman before the meeting began, you see. So I felt a certain, mm, requirement was in place."
     She suffers herself to be led, leaning her cheek against your shoulder for a moment. "Is there any soup? I'm in the mood for potato-leek, I can't imagine why. It must have something to do with the direction of the wind. So." Maria gives you a significant look from under sooty eyelashes. "Tell me everything..."

     Everything? Where do I begin?
     As you put in a request for soup, it appears in a large covered pot. Potato and leek and the unmistakable scent of butter follows. He will leave the soup for you. He, on the other hand, takes a chocolate cupcake from a stand of similar cakes. He licks at the icing and sets your hand free so you can retrieve your own sustenance.
     The bed is large, more than king-sized, with burgundy coverlets and dark ermines brought in for the autumn and winter. It would be tempting to crawl in, but he does not. Instead, Gruffydd leans against the heavy and ornately carved post, taking the first bite, the amaretto cream center a sweet and potent shock to his tongue.
     "Everything is a lot," he says with a chocolate smile. Sucking the amaretto and cocoa from his lips the looks to you. "Can we do this in a question and answer format?" The teasing banter is so easy with you. Once again, it is as if you have fallen from the tree and thrown your apple at him. Twisting for a moment, looking around for a place to set the half eaten treat, Gruffydd pushes off the bedpost and moves to his side of the bed. He sets it there for now.

     She's torn between tickling you or attacking the soup; so she gives you a molten look, teasing with a flutter of eyelashes, and takes up some soup instead. "How's it going? The preparations. The job, if you like."
     She moves to your side of the bed, following you and taking a seat next to you, tucking one leg up under herself as she inhales the scent of the soup. "Mmm, now this, this will make my night complete." Maria sighs happily. "It's been such a long day. For you too, I'm sure. So." She looks sidelong. "Is he staying? I know you were worried."

     There is a mighty exhale for the job and widened lavender eyes. It is a genuine picture of a rare Gruffydd admittance; it is overwhelming. But he smiles a moment later. "I think, well. I don't know how to answer that question yet, to be honest. I ... will do the best that I can, every day, on that, for many years. I think the transition will... I hope it goes smoothly. We are preparing for tests, should they arise. The transfer of power is ...always tricky. But I am confident we will handle everything that comes our way. I... am trying to give myself time to daydream. I will have to try harder."
     A long day, yes, following quickly a long night. Gruffydd smiles to you as he takes a seat on the bed -- gently, so as not to rock your soup -- and he leans his back against the bedpost so he can face you. He smiles to you. It is not a broad grin, but a small, fond thing. He loves you. "He is going to stay, and I think he will do very well. He will try very hard, and he is smart. I think he will be fine. He did well today. His first round of meetings. I thought they went well."
     He rests his curled head against the post, tilting it slightly. Long dark lashes lift and lower and his toe nudges your leg gently. "And you... how are you doing with all of this, my sweet?"

     She cradles her soup to her chest, picking up her spoon for that first delicious mouthful. Mmm. Food. She enjoys it with the gusto you've always known her to be capable of, taking another mouthful before answering you. "It's going fine, for now. Mostly it's a matter of persuading people that I'm not an idiot just because I happen to be your wife. Fortunately, it doesn't take much to get through to most people."
     Maria grins at you, mischief in her eyes as she lowers a hand to tweak your toe. "I think I should have lunch with him, don't you? If he's going to be staying, then he'll need to get comfortable with me. Tell me," she probes gently, "how do you feel?"
     Her gaze rests on you, awaiting your answer. She is sympathetic and loving - and not one to let things slide. You could have done far worse...

     "You should, yes," he smiles. "We were talking about that last night." Yes, they talk, says the slight twitch of his mouth. "I think it's a little past time, but certainly over the next several weeks, I think you two should spend some more time together. I love you both very much. I am so fortunate," he murmurs.
     Fortunate to be loved...
     Fortunate to have found love, redoubled...
     Fortunate that both of his beloveds are willing to be close.
     It is rare.
     "He needs to be comfortable with you, but you... you were here first," he smiles. "I want you both to be happy," Gruffydd says. "And fulfilled and loved. You mean the world to me, Maria. I could not do this without you. You know this. Or him." You were right to know it from nearly the beginning: he needs both.
     Gruffydd smiles with that serene confidence. That is the look of the King. "They will learn not to underestimate you. For now, however, we will use that to our best advantage. You are charming, quick, wise, and sharp. I could not have a better chief negotiator and queen."
     He cannot bear the space and though he is careful in deference to the soup, he crawls upon the surface of the bed to sit beside you, his back given to the cushions. "I feel...both empty and full," he says, turning his head to you. "I am both energized and tired. I am standing on the edge of dreaming and forever. I... am nervous," he whispers it. "Not in a bad way. Just..." he smiles a little, "... just nervous. We are about to create something, something very big."
     And then you see it in his eyes...
     And then it will be time, sweet, to create something small...

     She tugs lightly at your toe again. "I'm glad he isn't running away. I was worried, you know." Not for herself, but for you. It would have broken your heart, and even though you would have soldiered on, she would not have liked seeing you hurt. "But he seems made of sterner stuff. I might have a word with his sister at some point, too."
     She is going to be the queen; and that means that she will be (among other things) in charge of keeping things in line, here and there. And a quiet word in advance can save so much pain and heartache later. She has seen it before, with her own mother; and now she is preparing to fulfill such roles herself. Quickly, she finishes the soup and sets it aside, then shifts up to snuggle up against your side, kissing your cheek.
     "We are creating many things," Maria agrees demurely. She turns to grin at you, the mischief again sparkling in her eyes. I wish I could say 'What makes you think we haven't already?' just to see the look on your face. But no - nothing like that to report, my darling. I love you, have I said that yet today? Now, tell me.
     She rolls over on top of you, 'pinning' you to the bed as she folds her arms on top of your chest. She laughs. "Tell me everything," Maria insists. "What is it like? What is he like? You are in love with him, but how does he make you feel - how far past the skin does he see? And," she leans in to nip your ear, "how good is he?" She is a terror, your wife. She grins at you with that piratical insistence, tickling your ribs. "Is he better than me?"

     He laughs as you nip his ear and quickly tries (and fails) to wear the look of royal serenity. "All are equal in the eyes of the Lord," Gruffydd chuckles, twisting at the tickling. No one in the kingdoms would believe that he is ticklish. You know. But you know everything there is to know of Gruffydd. His wings unfold in his defense, feathers tickling where fingers can't reach.
     I would know. It is a simply statement. From most it would be arrogant. But from him it is simply the truth. Gruffydd calms the tickling play, his wings surrounding you, the large muscled forms, though covered with creation's softest feathers, offering strength and protection as well as grand affection. And thank you. You did say it. This morning in the hall. But it is always nice to hear.
     Gruffydd is quiet, thoughtful, as he seriously considers your many questions. "He is very sweet. He is thoughtful and kind," he explains quietly. "He is intelligent, very smart, but he is very humble, somewhat uncertain about his gifts. He is no longer shocked about his attraction to, or love, for a man. But he is troubled somewhat by his family situation and he is nervous to tell his father, in particular, the truth about his identity. He is young, though. I never had to worry about what my fathers would think, but I remember struggling when I was a little younger than he is about how to be myself."
     He touches your face, tilting his head upon the pillows to look at you. "How far does he see? I am... showing him more and more, a little at a time. Last night was... probably the most honest I have been. He was ready to see me. The games have ended. And... to answer your burning question," Gruffydd murrs, giving you both a serious and a teasing look, "...he is not better than you are. You are both perfect and complete in and of yourselves, and incomparable, the one to the other. He... is very enjoyable," he grins. "Very flexible. He gives himself completely over to me. Your skin is best when brushed in honey and lavender. His is best with almond and cinnamon. And berry cream. The berries were very ripe," Gruffydd chuckles quietly, "...and so was he. Is your appetite for news satisfied? Or have you anymore questions for me, my beloved wife?"

     She laughs, calming as well, resting up against you and closing her eyes for a moment. "His family situation is different from ours," Maria observes. "Either of ours. And, of course, it was easier in some ways for us - both of us were born into royal households, and had some idea of what would go along with it. He's coming to it a bit late in life."
     She doesn't point out about your fathers and how that may have paved the way. You already know all that. She opens her eyes, smiling and planting a kiss on your lips. "I can see why he would be nervous. Even if his father's perfectly accepting - which is not entirely likely, there's bound to be an adjustment period - he's the only boy, you know. Two sisters and him. That places a certain amount of expectation on him, no matter how nice his parents might otherwise be. Plus, of course, he has sisters."
     She can well imagine where his fears must be running. She picks up one of your hands, bringing it to her breasts idly rather than with intent, an affectionate little gesture. "Do you really think I don't want to know about every word, every whisper, every sigh, every moan?" Maria retorts, enjoying your questions even as she retorts. "I want to know it all. He seems a sweet boy. And, of course, you are in love with him, and that means he is important to me, Gruffy. But I also, mmm... I also want to know how far I should go."
     She gives you a direct, searching look, heated but also serious in its way. "I'm going to have to get to know him, since he is staying. And he is going to have to learn to accept things - I'm not going to be his mother. How would you prefer this work, darling? Should I be looking at him as a little brother, as a partner in crime, as a..." She leaves you to fill in the blank while drawing your hand down to her thigh.

     Dark eyebrows lift as you lift his hand to your breast. His fingers are not idle. They drum upon the tender, full flesh beneath your gown, his eyes following them to fix upon his favorite fruit. He crooks his index finger in the neckline, tugging at the cloth as you guide his hand to your thigh. "Only Preston can answer that question. Optimally, I would prefer to share my bed with you both, all of us here in one big, happy family. That you and he would be open to being with one another, married as the three of us will be. We will not know until we are all together. I would prefer not to have to keep separate bedrooms, separate lives. I do not think ...mother or sister would be appropriate," he smiles a little. "Wrong dynamic."
     Gruffydd sits up partially, his other hand tugging at the ties of your bodice. "You will have to get to know him, and the three of us will have to navigate it together, learn the rise and pitch of our bed. I want you to love him and me. If it is nothing more than the affection of two wives, then ... we will sort that out. I have introduced him to Aediles and Adriano. They have accepted him readily and are quite fond of him. Adriano," he smiles, "... painted him for me last night. He had him brushed in honey and almond oil and cinnamon, with the almond cream between his thighs and the berry cream in his navel. I should have had my fill of sweets after all of that." In truth, he is not eating much tonight -- half a cupcake is still sitting, waiting. "We were together all night, still twitching when the sun rose. He looks exquisite when he is perched on the velvet swing. He was a perfect," tug, "...golden," he tugs the strings again, "...morsel." And the bodice falls free.
     "He is a very sweet boy," Gruffydd says softly. "And he opens very sweetly. He loves to be eaten, which is good," he grins, "...you know what my appetite is like."
     Lying back, he looks up at you, lavender eyes sparkling between midnight lashes, like two nebula trapped in the center of the universe. "I think Madison needs someone other than Balthazar and Sabira in her life. She could use another sisterly influence. She needs the education of a queen. I know Balthazar is teaching her," he grins broadly at that, "...but I believe he is concentrating on giving her...vocal lessons." Yes, you've heard surely. "I know his sisters are of great concern to him. He worries about Madison more, I think, Gillian being the oldest and, as he puts it, the smartest. And I know he worries about what his father will think of him. I have encouraged him to trust in his father's love. And to try not to worry."

     "Then I'll talk to him as soon as possible," Maria murmurs, inhaling deeply as your hands begin to make loose her garments. "I can't blame him for being nervous. He's probably worrying that his father will see him as a girl."
     She sits up so that her gown can begin to unravel from her skin, bending to kiss you hungrily, teeth tugging at your lips with playful insistence. "He sounds delicious in his own way. I can entirely see why you find him so delightful. Would you like me to arrange to have him for lunch on his own, or with Adriano or Aediles? I am thinking that to ease him into things, my nymphs should be present."
     Maria slips from the bed to allow the fabrics to fall to the floor, then climbs back up, dragging herself over you. She is neatly groomed, skin freshly washed and a demure triangle trimmed between her thighs. "I will see about meeting with Madison as well. I think she does need some guidance. I suspect she won't want it, but she'll get it." She has no doubt as to which will shall win in that.

     "Shh... a moment of reverence, please," he murmurs as you sit perched and unclothed. "The Queen is naked." He grins at last. "Hmmm... sit up... I want to see the most beautiful woman in the many, many kingdoms." He is starry-eyed when he looks at you, his eyes lifting to your face even as his index finger tickles against the coquettish triangle.
     "I think Aediles. He will enjoy the nymphs more," he smiles. "If you decided that Pres will need reinforcements. It might not be a bad idea. I think he wants to make a good impression with you. He wants to know you better. I think he may be slightly intimidated. But it is understandable. You are my wife, my lover, my soon to be queen. Perhaps having Aediles there would be helpful."
     Hands on your hips, Gruffydd sinks into the bedding. He does not need to tell you what he wants. His fingers guide you with just the slightest bit of pressure. A suggestion that you should move your straddle from his hips to his shoulders. "Madison will need to mature faster than she's ready to. I think it may be difficult. Balthazar will not pressure her. It is not his way. But he will need her to grow up and into herself. Otherwise, I fear he might hold himself back. We cannot afford that..."

     She laughs at the compliment, even as her eyelids slant heavier for the touch to a place that only you and her nymphs know well. "I think he should have the backup, otherwise he will be more likely to bolt when things proceed as they inevitably will. Aediles will know to hold him from that."
     She is willing enough to follow your suggestion, sliding up and forward and sinking her fingers into your hair as she smiles down at you. "She needs a bit of pressure from someone who will be a friend. She'll have enemies aplenty, goodness knows - already she's rather thoroughly resented, you know. As I likely would have been, if your family hadn't been so shrewd. They did very well by us, with that cruise and the drums beating beforehand in praise of us as a couple."
     She sighs happily, wiggling as she settles her weight on your shoulders. She knows that you can bear it. "So will you mind if I break your boyfriend just a little, my love? I think he needs to know what he's gotten himself into..."

     "Just don't cause any permanent damage," Gruffydd says as he kisses the inside of a thigh, nuzzling there. "I am fond of him." He smiles up at you.

Posted by rowan at October 09, 2009 07:28 PM