It's so quiet...
     Point of fact, it isn't quiet at all. There are fireworks exploding, entertaining the crowds at the seashore. The basilica itself is in celebration mode, from the ground floor to the new High King's chambers. But none of the hubbub is generated from the chambers of the High King Emeritus. For him, and him alone this night, it's a quiet night.
     I think the last time that I didn't have my days and nights planned out for me, I was seven years old. Iowerth removes his clothes of office, exchanging them for midnight blue lounge pants and nothing else. The tattoos that cover his shoulders and chest, his torso and back (and parts of him, as you know, which are currently quite hidden) are of the same blue. The oceans there, once whirlpools are oceans of stars and nebulae, and he the wizened seadragon that traverses them.
     In one set of tattoos, there is a Compass. In another, there is a bright Star...
     Periwinkle eyes lift, his shock of copper hair burnished in the low light of his chamber, as he turns to look for you. It is... strange. Not bad, he is quick to counter. Just.... new. Iowerth looks back down to the book of maps that he transcribed and and created when he was fifteen. Just a couple of years before he met you.
     He shuts the book and sits back with his thoughts. That he is exposed in his feelings is clear. But how to begin to talk about that which has been buried for more than twenty years...

     He smiles over at you, as patient as he always has been. Tiernan is in one of his white shirts and a pair of loose trousers; casual wear, for him. He comes in from the balcony, closing the fireworks an their noise off a little bit as he approaches the wine cabinet, taking down a bottle of peach brandy. This is the real thing; brandy made from peach liqueur, which has had until its bottling fresh peaches dumped into each barrel for half a year. He pours himself a generous amount, offering you the same.
     "Enjoy it," Tiernan says simply. He lifts his glass to his lips for a genteel sip. "High King Iowerth is slain by his son, High King Gruffydd; all hail the return of Captain Iowerth Rhudd Draig, scourge of the Sea of Dreams." He smiles, and there is the same love in his eyes as there has always been, but now, with a serene knowledge paired with it.
     "You don't have to choose, you know," Tiernan says gently. You do not know how to open the door; he opens it for you. "I'm not worried." He knows you so well. Perhaps too well.

     "Diolch," Iowerth murmurs in thanks for the brandy. He looks into it, and then to you. For a moment, he seems bewildered. Your words thrum against his emotions. And then his look of bewilderment passes, transforming into love, pure and simple. "I am glad you are finally not worried," he smiles but he's not joking, though it seems on the surface a tease. Iowerth sips at the brandy, then looks into the glass again. "I don't doubt your feelings or your faith. We've known one another too long," he continues, his gaze lifting to you.
     Sipping at the brandy, he gives his body and the weight of his own fears to the sofa to bear up. It is clear that he's not convinced that there isn't some choice involved. Iowerth looks to you. "I could never choose to be without you," he says finally. "The idea of spending time apart makes me ache, Tiernan." He pauses. "And yet," he smiles at himself and at you, "... you have successfully loved both Agapios and I. And I haven't minded it." He chuckles, "What's your secret?"

     Glasses are passed from hand to hand, and he moves to sink into a seat near you, smiling at you with that seemingly eternal patience. "We've spent much of the past almost thirty years apart, beloved," Tiernan says gently. "Physically, we've been in close proximity, perhaps; emotionally, we have been pulling in the same direction. But we have spent the majority of our time apart, separated by matters of state; council meetings. Strikes. Threats of sanctions, even of war."
     "In that time, we have loved, fought, laughed, wept, raised a family of fine young men and women," Tiernan continues, serenity unruffled, "and never once have we truly pulled apart emotionally, or wished to be other than what we are to one another. How could that possibly be changed just by my spending time with Agapios? How could it possibly be changed by you spending time with another? My love is without the condition that I am the only one that you love; I know that you are faithful to me, as your husband, and if you find relief and release from some of your burdens, emotional or otherwise, in someone else's presence, why would I take it as a slight? I am one man. We cannot all be all things to all men; you have spent thirty-odd years trying to do that in the form of a kingship, and you know its burdens better even than I do, my heart."
     He smiles, pushing a dark louche curl back from where it threatens his line of vision, and he reaches for your hand. "I have shared you with the throne for all these years, and with Zafirah, who we both have come to love greatly," he says quietly. "I would be jealous, perhaps, if it were an unequal choice. But you have consistently chosen your destiny over all loves, Io. The throne came first before either of us; and you chose me second of all, even though that was not necessary. And, in truth - do you know of a less tormented soul than me? And do you know of a more tormented soul than he?"

     He cannot argue the points out of mere stubbornness, as he would have if he were truly the age he appeared to be. Now, there is simply too much truth and too much fact, irrefutable and indisputable. Any obstacle he might have put in his own way before, or in both of your ways before, cannot stand up to fact and reason.
     There is only one obstacle to any of this. His brother, Aeron.
     Periwinkle sparkles in his emotion and understanding as you speak. Iowerth takes your hand. He closes his eyes and kisses it. You absolve him without his having to even ask. You lift the heaviest chain off from around his neck without him so much as groaning for you to do so. "No," he murmurs. "I do not."
     His bronze lashes lift, the vibrant fair blue-purple shining between them. "He has fared far worse than I. I had you," he smiles. "I have you. And my children and the counsel and love of their dear mother, our wife. And you... have always understood this," he whispers. "Even when I did not." He pauses, clasping your hand, his eyes looking to the sliding of his fingers against your own. "I could never allow myself to hurt you. I was the cause of your pain once..."

     Tiernan smiles, his hand staying in yours. "I got better," he answers you drolly, but still gently. "We have both hurt one another in the past. It is one of the difficulties of being human, and being in love. We've both gotten better at it with practice, though."
     As you have kissed his hand, now he takes your hand between both of his, bringing it to his own lips. "I will never leave you for another, Io.
But we must be true not only to one another, but to our hearts. Step away, for a moment, from not only your fears, but from your own skin." He smiles at you, love in his eyes and in his expression, the serenity which has only increased with his years. "You are no longer the High King. The only thing you owe to anyone are the duties and debts of love. What, truly, do you see when you look at this? What, truly, do you want?"
     He waits a moment, then touches a fingertip to the back of your hand, stroking your skin. "Peel back the surface and let out the fears and doubts," Tiernan says gently. "The only one who will take me from you is Death, and we neither of us have power over that. What, ultimately, do you desire, Io? Face it, and you will be stronger and wiser for it."

     He is nothing if not brave. His middle son -- your middle son -- comes by that quite naturally. And your serenity -- that which you passed to your eldest son -- is contagious. "I will never leave you for another, Tiernan," he repeats and avows. "Only Death can part us. And, even then, not for very long."
     His drink set aside, Iowerth stares at your joined hands, into the space between clasped fingers, and into his own heart. "I ... want to love you both, even as you have loved me and have loved Agapios. I want to allow myself the same liberty. Which I have not done. I don't want to keep myself from those I love," he swallows, his emotion leaking from his eyes in both tears and vibrant shine. "I don't want to put my destiny ahead of my heart, my duty now done. I want to love you, fully. I want to see my brother more often without the weight of Everything resting upon it. Can that be done? Without harm to you?"
     That, as Zafirah professed, he shall not do. Your heart is sacrosanct. "I want to return the gift of Love that you have given me, so patiently, for so long. And Gwilym, who gave it to me so impatiently. When all I could do was take it with the promise to return it later. It is later now," Iowerth says quietly, his every syllable strumming emotion. "It's my turn to be patient. It's my turn to love with Love's Priority. That's what I want, Tiernan."

     "It is not my heart you need worry about hurting." Tiernan says it quietly, and he smiles at you. He is proud of you. "It is not easy to face Love, sometimes," he acknowledges, "no matter how freely it is given. But I think that your brother is a tough nut to crack. I wish I knew how to help him," for he has more than his share of compassion, "but you are the only one who makes a deep difference in his pain, I think. Aeron has helped him a great deal; he seems to see into Gwilym's darkness. I worry more for Aeron's heart in this, by far, than I do for mine."
     He smiles and exhales, sinking back into the cushions, reaching with his free hand for his glass. "You aren't going to hurt me, Io," Tiernan tells you with confidence, calm and beautiful as he says it. "I am completely certain of it. We are past that point. I worry more about hurting you than I ever do about the reverse. So. How do we handle this?"

     "I had both hoped and feared," Iowerth smiles to you, "...that Aeron would be my replacement. But Gwilym will not allow himself too much joy, too much love. Or even half enough." Body given to the sofa, he gives his gaze to you. "I wish he would. My being with him or not will not change that."
     He is quiet in his thoughts and consideration, his gaze returning to you after a few moments. He reaches for you, motioning for you to snuggle in against him. "I will have to speak with Gwilym. I don't know what he wants or what he expects after so long a time," he notes. "And I will have to speak with Aeron, or he and I will have to speak with Aeron. I... am going to give my brother the benefit of the doubt. But he's never been much for sharing."
     There is something of peace. It's strange. All of his defenses are gone. He takes all of this with the serene matter-of-factness normally seen in you or his eldest son. He accepts it. He understands it. Iowerth's expression is gentle. He reaches out to you with that look. "How would you wish it to be handled, from your point of view? Tell me what you need of me."

     He is quiet, listening to you, expression calm and joyful in his own way. He brings your hand to his lips again, brushing a kiss along the inside of your wrist. "You do not really want to be replaced," Tiernan says gently. "You would like to in the sense that you would like the semblance of normality - but you are underneath it as jealous of him as of me. You've been telling yourself otherwise for a long time, haven't you."
     Tiernan smiles and bends forward to take up his glass, surrendering your hand for the moment. "We are none of us normal. There is, in fact, nothing truly to aspire to in normality; normality is really just someone else's oddity."
     He sighs, then. "I wish I had advice for you, regarding Aeron," Tiernan says after a moment. "I do not. That they love one another... well, yes. But the only one who possesses the key to untangling Gwilym's knots appears to be you. It is a very tangled situation. As for what I need?" He turns to you, and he smiles again. "All I need is what I have always needed, best beloved. I need you to tell me. That's all."

     He looks at you, with the uptick of that famous copper eyebrow. "Jealous? In what sense?" Iowerth wonders. He pauses to consider it. "I do not feel jealous. I think it would just be so much simpler if we could just be...brothers. But, perhaps that is a lie, a wish for convenience." He relaxes back as you keep to your side of the sofa, not far however.
     It's neither here nor there, his gaze seems to say. For it is what it is and has been.
     Iowerth rests his head against his hand, his fingers slipping, disappearing among the bronze. "You ... need me to tell you what?" He smiles a little. "That I love you? I love you." The smile then becomes warmer, wider, before it relaxes into his thoughtful expression once more. "I need to know what you would prefer. If you would prefer to speak with me and Gwilym both so that we all understand one another. Or if you would like me to handle such alone. I am not leaving you out of this process; I can't, Tiernan."
     He rests his head against his fist, looking to you. "I don't want to ... be regimented about it. I just want to be able to be there for you both as much as I can. And to see you, of course, as much as I can. It sounds loose and perhaps vague. Is that too vague?"

     "Many things would be simpler. It would have been simpler if I had been a woman." Tiernan smiles at you, then chuckles. "Io, all I need is to know that it is what you are doing. Do you remember our fight, when I left that time? Your brother kept us from making mistakes, then," he recalls. "But I wasn't angry that you two were together, love. I was angry because you hadn't told me..."
     "I have faith that if I need you, you will be there for me," Tiernan says simply. "So as long as you tell me - my needs are few and simple, Io. I will be here always, for as long as I can, as much as I can. And now we have so much time - even if you saw him every day for five hours at a time, I would still be seeing you more when you were not with him than we've been able to do for years. What more could I possibly want or need? And," he smiles again, sinking into the cushions and closing his eyes, "neither of you will want that much unalloyed time together. It's not your natures."

     Iowerth shifts, the sofa making its allowances as he comes to hold you, to surround you with his arms. "I will tell you," he murmurs. And he smiles. "God no. We'd kill each other with more than a few hours," comes the old familiar droll tone.
     His hand comes up to stroke against your dark hair. "I will be there, whether you want me to be or not at this point." He chuckles lowly. "You're my soul's mate. Without you, I dare say there would be no me."
     His mouth is warm, like the southern seas. It is there, in his kiss again. There, after all this time. The remembered tide and ebb of the Sea. The feeling in the ship that first day. The salt of hours' perspiration in one another's arms.
     Iowerth looks to you, his hand gently pressed to your cheek. He touches you, looks at you, as if you had stepped back in time together, to that first sailing venture. He touches you for the thrice-one-thousandth time, and for the first time again.

Posted by rowan at May 16, 2010 09:11 PM