Maria...
     There is only one who speaks so, with a breath of air that you cannot hear but rather feel. The voice is curled like a wisp of incense smoke as it rises from the base of your spine, settling lastly in the heart of your ear. My darling and my wife...
     Gruffydd is spread upon a fine bed. It is late -- the deepest part of evening -- and all are resting, even he. He lies beneath the covers, his eyes closed as if sleep has already kissed his eyelids and bid him dream.
     Beside him, the sleeping form of a mortal boy, a young man some eight years his junior, curled in whatever position offers him and his wounded leg comfort.
     How I do miss you when I am away from you. Tell me, is it night or day for you and do you have a moment to spare me?

     It is a different time, a different place, where she bides. She is in the middle of her lunch, a napkin tied loosely around her throat to protect her gown. She is caught lifting a cherry to her lips when you 'call'...
     Gruffydd. I've missed you. Maria smiles happily, dropping the cherry so that it tumbles and rolls to the table, forgotten, eyes closed as she focuses on you, and whatever it is you have to send to her. It's mid-afternoon. I was just sitting down to a quick lunch before I go tackle the Merchants' Council - if I'm going to be staring at fat old men, I want my lunch first, after all. They're such a lot of fat wrinkly babies, really. Of course I have a moment - they've tried to keep me waiting often enough, after all.

     He smiles in his sleep but across time and space you both hear and feel his quiet laughter. You are the Queen Regent, my dear. Their time is your time. It is late here... sometime in the early morning. I will be sleeping soon but you know I cannot sleep without telling my dove goodnight...
     Gruffydd turns his head upon his pillow, his eyes yet closed. How I delight in you, truly, little dove with the plump white breasts. Have you missed me? Shall I be so rude as to inquire? Is there anything you need? I know I am far, but I am not so far. Far enough to feel your absence but within a moment if needed. Things are going well?

     I am missing you. She blushes, reddening as you knew she would as you mention her breasts. Things are going well, but I was thinking about you - not like that, she adds primly, the way you know she can. Well. Like that too, but I had other things in mind.
     Maria picks up the cherry, now, snapping through the tight outer skin and delicately ripping it in half, away from its pit. I was thinking about our marriage, and your ascension to the throne, and what it means, and what you need. And I think that you need something you haven't got. Other than what is between my thighs, Gruffydd, so don't make me sass you!

     Gruffydd's mouth twitches a little. Is the day warm by any chance? He could never resist teasing your blushing. But you have turned to serious topics and so he is silent for a moment, listening to you. I miss you in more ways than one, as you know. What are your thoughts, my love and wife? About our marriage and ascension?
     He isn't the only one rising to a position of more authority. His smile has faded not in upset but in thought. You know the look on his face, that serene curiosity. You can picture it in the tone of his voice.
     You know I respect your counsel most of all...

     I have been thinking about it, and about the work we'll be doing - and are doing already. And I've been making some notes, and I have come to the conclusion that we can't do it on our own without burning the candle at both ends. Your father was right about that.
     Maria keeps her eyes closed, sticking her tongue out at you (and at the mirror opposite her) without bothering to shift her position. She lies back languidly, taking off her napkin and using it to fan herself. It is warm here, actually. I've ordered the windows and doors opened to get the breeze off the sea since I can't just up and go sailing. But onto that counsel. I think you need a third, my darlingest meanest love.

     That catches him somewhat by surprise. You know this by the moment of silence that follows it. He glances to his side, and to the young man resting in is bed. Providence, you are a strange entity.
     It is an interesting notion, and one that has crossed my mind -- not insofar as to plan for such but more in wondering if that were going to come to pass. Certainly, you will not be able to bear such a heavy schedule alone, not with children, which will happen of course.
     In fact, he desires of that now. That crosses the miles and realities from him to you, that sudden desire to start a family. He doesn't speak it. He merely feels it and marvels at it. Gruffydd rolls slightly upon his back, careful not to wake his neighbor.
     As Serendipity would have it, I believe there is a young man who may be capable of filling a role. He desires to learn, to do something meaningful with his existence. He yearns for that meaning and to find himself a place in one world or another. Perhaps this is what his destiny had in mind for him.
     There is a pause. I will offer him an opportunity to visit, I think. You can meet him and you can tell me what you think. If you see the same potential and promise that I believe is there, then perhaps we can discuss it more. What do you think of this? I have no idea whether he will accept the offer, but he does show promise, Maria. I think he could be of great help to you, to us, to me...
     As any good king, he puts himself last in the list...

     Very well. I just think you are missing some things and not admitting it to yourself, my dearest. And I can sense a need in you - in us both, in the days to come - we need that balance. Not for our own sakes alone, but for the sake of all we'd like to accomplish.
     Maria blindly picks up a slice of peach, sucking on it with a quiet sigh. It is cool on this warm day, and sweet; it goes down like ice, like charity. But she is still herself - and she cannot resist the temptation to tweak you, just a little. And are you enjoying him thoroughly, Gruffydd? How young is young, anyway?

     He is tweaked. Only you and Tiernan can make his mocha cheeks roseate with a dimpled blush. It floods his face. My wife is wise beyond her years. And I need her wisdom as much as her love. I ... think you are right, dove. His agreement is soft.
     The color flooding his cheeks remains and in his smile, the dimples show themselves. It is the very picture of angelic naughtiness, a cherub with a wink. He is eighteen. Young. But he has a very diverse life experience for one so young. He has an understanding and appreciation of other cultures, which struck me as interesting. And he is an untapped...well, hitherto untapped well of desire. He wants to put his energy to something. He is seeking a life, a future. And... yes... my dear, you know me...
     The color fades at last. Now you have him where he so normally has you: you make him speak about illicit activities with someone other than yourself. You ... are right, Maria, about the issue of balance. You should be my co-ruler... my queen. We... you and I.... what we need is a Tiernan...
     And who better to attempt it than another quiet, intelligent and wounded mortal boy?

     Very young. She is amused, and it glimmers in her tone, resting her head back against the back of her chair. But that is to your taste. It is for your sake that I try to stay as young as the day you first met me, and to fight you as much as I did then, even though I know that I will always lose to you, my darling. You are my king, entirely aside from any silly little things like kingdoms.
     She shivers a little, with a delicious insouciance as she flirts with you, even if it is only within her mind and yours. I do know you. And I love you. This boy - if he is to be our Tiernan, then yes, I will need to meet him. Maria lifts her glass of chilled wine to her lips. And more importantly, you must decide if you can love him, my darling. It will not be a tripod otherwise. Sympathy and the desire to teach will not be enough...

     Your fighting keeps us both youthful as rutting spring, his voice issues within your heart, sliding upward to your ears. There is no scratch I could love more than yours, my biting little rose. The sharper the thorn, the sweeter the flower. And your flower is... very, very sweet. Such words would be followed with him tasting said sweetness, if he were with you, no matter where you and he were in that moment.
     There is the sound of his sigh in your soul, and a breeze moves through your chamber. And I love you. I will show you how much, soon. As for this young man? There is potential there...but whether it will turn to love... we will have to see. I wish you to meet him first, before things are too far afield. Afterwards, with your approval, the heart will be given its full liberty.
     We met in a way... similar to how my fathers met, he does remark. I was struck by the symmetry. But ... it could as well be my own mind creating this out of a need for that balance. Time will prove it out, one way or another.
     Gruffydd relaxes with a sigh, his hand reaching over to the other in the bed with him. His hand glances along a thigh. It is late, my sweet. I fear I'm starting to drift...

     Yes, agreed. She blushes for your more floral tribute, and sidesteps it; otherwise she would stammer, and so she addresses what needs to be addressed instead. I will look forward to meeting him and seeing how he feels.
     She means it quite innocently; Maria sips her drink with a slow, small sigh. I have to go deal with fat, ugly merchants when I would rather be thinking of and being with you. I will grill you when you return, you know. I will relive every moment, every caress, vicariously, she threatens.
     Time will show the way. She smiles wistfully, blowing you a kiss, lips puckered unseen in the mirror. Think of me, my darling, won't you? But come home to me when you can...

     I will steal away a moment tomorrow night, my time. I cannot imagine being without you an entire week. Enjoy your fat merchants, there is a tease for that. I am sure Sabrina will be more than happy to rub your shoulders and feet after such a long and exhausting day. Such thoughts shall sustain and inspire me.
     Gruffydd turns over in his sleep, his arms sliding around the warm body of a young man. He holds you both: him in his arms, you in his mind. Time will show the way. I will see you and speak with you tomorrow. Good night, my dove...

Posted by rowan at May 21, 2009 11:30 PM