I am not sure how I am going to say this. I am not sure how you are going to take this. I am not even sure what I think of this...
     It has been all a little too much. His brain is, as your twin would say, fried with a side of potatoes; he is too tired to sort through everything, and he's hit the point where he is running on empty. He's returned to the palace, and bathed, and shaved, and changed, looking at his reflection as if searching for the boy he was in the man he now is.
     Io? Are you free?
     It is an oddly lost, lonely thought sent. It could have been sent twenty years ago in much the same voice.

     There is a pause -- and the kingdom itself feels it, from the piers to the castle as the High King turns in media res. I will get free. Where are you?. Used to be, he always knew where his Compass was. He was trained on you as if you were his north pole. But the kingdom has gotten too large, his energies and your energies too spread, and so he must ask.
     In the High King's office a meeting is drawn to a cessation. It will resume tomorrow. Seneschals prepare the calendars and attendees are left behind in the king's departing wake.
     You saved me from a mediation. I love you more than ever. You sound tired, Ti. Shall I summon us a snack?
     Iowerth Rhudd Draig rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, his hand then raking through his short thick hair, mussing it but not marring it. He is clothed nicely but comfortably for a day of business meetings, in a pair of white cotton trousers with a white tunic. His feet are in white stag leather shoes. His steps are soundless as he climbs up the private stairs from his office toward the private apartments.

     I am in your quarters. He crosses from his rooms to yours, looking around the room without really seeing it, taking a seat on a sofa. It could as easily be the floor. Something to eat probably would be wise, yes. You usually forget to eat when you have been mediating.
     Tiernan bends down and begins to unlace first one boot, then the other, pulling them off one at a time with heavy thuds as the leather bottoms hit the floor. When I am with you, I am always reminded of how much you are my life. I am sorry for drawing you away from more important things.

     There is nothing more important than my husband and my family.
     As he speaks and as you wander through your chamber, pulling off your boots, a variety of foods appear; finger foods, mostly, on platters that materialize from the bounty of the universe itself. There is tea, coffee, water and wine to go with the gathering of small rolls, buns stuffed with spicy and sweet venison and pheasant meat, fruit and cheese and bread. I haven't had the chance to eat all day, he quietly admits, even as you hear the private stairwell door open and whisper shut.
     Iowerth appears a moment later, smiling. He has been burning the candle at three ends, even as you do. It shows around the eyes. But that lightens in your presence, even as he can see you are very tired.
     So though his stomach calls him, it is to you that first he turns. He bends, kissing you on the top of your head. "Did you go to the office after all? You are going to have to leave the island to get any rest," he teases you but he is serious too.

     "No, I didn't," Tiernan protests. It is a mild protest, and he turns to smile at you with that very genuine affection visible in his eyes. "I went to the marketplace and wandered around. I did not even do trade price comparisons. I promise."
     He holds up a hand, tugging at your shirt lightly as you pass. I miss you when we are together. It is strange. "I ran into someone," Tiernan says aloud, turning his head to follow you with his gaze. "Agapios. We had some tuna rolls together."

     "You finally had lunch," he murmurs. He remembers. Bending and placing a kiss upon your head, he holds you a moment, warmly. He sits beside you before fixing a plate, though with the food so near his stomach makes a loud complaint on his tardiness. "Did you have a good time? I have given you cause to look so distressed," Iowerth's expression is sympathetic. "But please, on my account, do not be. Was it pleasant? Awkward?"
     There seems to be more here than tuna rolls. As his stomach growls again, he smiles, a hand to your leg for a squeeze as he rises to fix a plate for you both to share.

     "It was pleasant. And awkward. Not on his part; on mine. I am so very bad at these things," Tiernan sighs. He leans into your warmth, surrendering you only reluctantly, only in the name of food. "I cannot be trusted with relationships, Io. I do not understand why anyone does."
     He watches you, and he bites his lip. He is postponing the inevitable; he realizes it, and so he stops. "He wants me to visit Oannes with him for a vacation."

     Periwinkle eyes look up from the banquet of meat-stuffed buns. There is understanding, sympathy, and even humor in that look. "If you cannot be trusted with relationships, then there's no hope at all for me. We know this not to be true," that was reassurance.
     Iowerth returns to the sofa with a plateful of cheese, buns and even a bit of fruit. He takes a seat, setting the plate on the table as he sits back with something small and manageable, a wedge of cheddar. "What do you want to do? Personally," he looks to his hands as he breaks of a piece and then to you as he offers it to you, "... I think you will have to get off the island to get any rest. What will do you ...and I...no good is if you make yourself sick over it."

     "I would like to go," Tiernan answers plainly, voice quiet. "But I would ... not unless it is ... all right." He is almost shuffling his feet, his hands caught in his lap. "I do not want there to be problems between us. I - well, I love you."
     He looks at you, and you can see that he has been quietly making himself miserable over this. He is caught; as stuck as you ever were, between temptations, desires, duties. He simply does not know what to do; so he extends his hand to take what you offer, but he does not meet your eyes.

     "Then go with my blessing, for I love you," the king -- and your husband -- answers. "What ... have you not sacrificed for us? For this kingdom? For me, personally? What could I therefore deny you, Tiernan? I could and would and shall not. What pleases me, what would please me, is for you to be happy and to be rested and well. It is no secret that you are worn to the bone. And you do yourself, us, the kingdom, and me no good if you dry up and blow away from this weariness. So," Iowerth's voice lowers to a hush as he leans in toward you. "I want you to go with my blessing, with my love, and without guilt or trepidation."
     His arm goes around you and he draws you into his shoulder. "I know you love me. And I know you love us. And you know that we will be here, hmm? I have the boys to help me. I have a second king now, and he will do more of the state work and I will see to Ani and Balthazar will balance things to the best of his abilities. All of your work will still be here. Work is eternal," he smiles.

     He is dumb with surprise, with relief, with gratitude. There is still worry. But he is taken unawares by this, and he is at a loss to answer. He turns, rolling on a hip until he is piled onto you, his arms around your waist and his forehead against your chest.
     How have we so changed places...
     You my guidance, where else I would be lost...
     Tiernan sighs, silent and steadying himself against you. "Work is eternal," he agrees. "If you are sure, then ... I will go..."
     You are being magnanimous. What can he do but be grateful, and take what you give?

     How? We are married. This is what we are supposed to do. When my course is off, you right me; when you need help, I reach out my hand. That is what this is. And you deserve that of me. Iowerth holds you otherwise quietly, his mind conveying his feelings far more easily than his mouth ever could.
     "Take a few weeks," the king suggests. "When you return, your feet will need to hit the ground...and the sea... running. We need to begin to prepare for my abdication and the coronation of the next king. So... I will need you rested and happy and ready to face the wind head on, oes?" He kisses the crown of your head again. "When do you leave?"

     "I do not know," Tiernan admits. "I did not discuss specifics. I will arrange to leave, perhaps, in three days? Will that be too soon? And I will go for ... two weeks?"
     They are numbers selected mostly at random. To him, two weeks is an eternity. It is probably half of what he should take. He looks at you with that familiar solemnity. "Will we even know what to do with ourselves, I wonder," Tiernan whispers, and he lifts a hand to touch your face. "When we step down, when we leave..."

     "I will miss you if it is a day. Two weeks will seem forever, which means it's about right," he chuckles. "I was hoping I would have a few days to get used to the idea. I will have to brace myself for it like bracing to jump in cold water." His arm gives you a reassuring hug.
     "Will we know what to do?" His eyebrows lift and his smile takes a wander across his face. "Probably not. We may sleep for a year just to catch up. But we will find it out together, whatever it is. It will be a new adventure, right? So, we will not worry. We will sail into the wind as always."

Posted by rowan at March 05, 2009 10:13 PM