Dawn has come and gone. A light breakfast was in order; a poached egg, some fruit, some toast, and sparkling water mixed with fruit juice. It was followed by showering and dressing in a pale orange sari with a lime green and lemon yellow sash and shawl. When one has certain coloring, one can get away with such things.
     She has not given any advance warning, because advance warning means people can plan what what you have up your sleeve, and who needs to contend with that? And Tanira nods politely to the guards as she heads down the hall to where she anticipates her fathers will be sharing their own breakfast before departing to other meetings. There likely will be a steady flow of seneschals in and out of their chambers already.
     She taps lightly on the door nonetheless. Her veil is in place; pale green to match the sash and shawl. Her hair is braided and snugly fastened with a gold cuff with a monkey charm dangling from it. "Good morning, fathers," Tanira calls calmly. "May I come in?"
     After all, if the seneschals aren't there, she might be interrupting something...

     Oh the seneschals are there. The door is opened with a professional flourish to reveal a living room that pantomimes the birth of the universe. In the center, having breakfast (French toast and eggs and coffee) are the two stars about which the meteoric and comet-streaking seneschals and servants orbit. But while there is chaos in the dust and winds of Creation, at the center of the cosmic storm it is quite peaceful.
     Iowerth is clothed simply in white, as he so frequently is. Today it is white suede breeches and over the knee boots coupled with a cable-knit sweater of unicorn yarn. His copper-bronze hair is a startling sight amid so much blank canvas. The windows are open to allow in the morning sun, illuminating the china and golden flatware.
     The High King looks up as he hears his daughter's voice: "Of course, Tanira. Let her in Roan. Thank you," he says as the door opens to reveal his beautiful daughter, the first of three such. He is placid, tranquil as he sits in the center of chaos, occasionally turning, piece of French toast in hand, to quickly review, give an order or sign something. "Have you eaten? There is plenty. You look beautiful. Aurora would hide her plain face in shame."

     "Thank you," Tanira tells Roan graciously; politeness costs nothing, after all. She makes her way in to kiss her father's cheek. "Thank you, father, but I've eaten already. I would not object, though, to a cup of chocolate if any is available." She does have a sweet tooth. She must have gotten it from you.
     Tiernan is just finishing up shaving in the bathroom; he grabs a towel and wipes off his face, then pops out with a gentle smile creasing his features. He still looks tired. The previous night was another late one, and increasingly fraught with family-related dramas. "Tanira. How lovely. Are you joining us for breakfast?" He heads over to the table, kissing the top of his husband's head and presenting his cleanly shaven cheek for his daughter to kiss before he sits. (Soon, shaving will no longer be necessary, again.)
     She isn't here to advocate for a West, is she? Or for Balthazar? I'd like a single day off if possible from romantic entanglements.
     He sits, though, helping himself to coffee, ignoring the passing seneschals except when they deliver something to him directly.

     "Hello, papa." Tanira dutifully kisses Tiernan's cheek as well, placing her hands in her lap. "I've eaten already. But I am hoping to ask the two of you for something. It may be difficult for you to procure, however." She remains as serene and tranquil as she gives her warning as she ever is. And she gives no other warning.

     Iowerth's expression is warmly amused. He reaches up to lightly hug his spouse as the crown of his head is kissed. "Good morning," he murmurs. "There are lists there for you. The ones you asked for." There is a deepening to his smile, to his look to Tiernan. I do not yet know. But maybe we will have a break until at least noon. Ah, to be the Oak King for a day. I would not wish it on my worst enemy.
     "Have a seat, my darling," Iowerth says, gesturing to one of the chairs next to him with a grand smile. A cup of dark chocolate, infused with orange and ginger appears. One for her. And then... upon further reflection, another one appears for himself.
     "Give us a moment, please," the High King quietly commands the seneschals and servants. The chaos begins to quiet as they take their leave -- or at least partially withdraw. "So," Iowerth says, turning to face Tanira, "...what may I do for my first flower." He grins in a slant. "Difficult to procure." His voice mulls upon that dryly. "We have ways of procuring. What is it that you want or need, my dear?"

     Tiernan picks up the first of the lists, eyeing it. He barely remembers what he's asked for, at this point. "Oh? Good. I think." He isn't at his best before coffee, not anymore. We'll hope for the best. And if all else fails, fix it in post.
     He receives coffee and he sips it then slides up an eyebrow, wryly humorous. "It isn't anything illegal, I trust. But then, I expect you would go straight to your uncles, if so..."

     Tanira smiles demurely, neatly unfastening her veil and setting it aside. She takes up her cup in both hands and lifts it to her lips. "Nothing illegal, I do not believe, papa. It is nothing terribly strange. I have decided that I wish to marry." She looks up, still demure, from underneath her eyelashes. "However, I seem to be lacking a suitable groom."
     She waits for the other shoe to drop with the perfect deadpan expression of the consummate comedienne, giving away nothing - save the very faint, very slight arch of her eyebrows as she waits in anticipation for paternal reactions.

     "My first daughter," Iowerth says warmly, even sweetly. "You have always squeezed my heart in your delicate fingers. I would be happy to assist." There is no recrimination. There is only heartfelt joy and love for his dear daughter. "We can make a formal announcement. It can be handled per your wishes." He looks to Tiernan. "We can tailor the announcement to whatever wishes you might haven in terms of what you will consider." He smiles at her. "Do you have a preference as to plane of reality? Here or There? Near or Far?"
     Another glance of periwinkle to Tiernan conveys love and wistfulness. Our first daughter, leaving the nest. I am going to need a drink. I shall be inconsolable once she leaves. How dull a place this shall seem if she is not a frequent visitor...

     Let's just clear our calendars and get drunk, Tiernan proposes drolly. It is clearly going to be one of those weeks, Io. I don't think it's going to get any better.
     Your usually optimistic husband is having trouble focusing on the bright side, at the moment. But he smiles, and he lifts his coffee mug. "Is there a candidate that you are hoping for?" he asks mildly. It's a reasonable question. Everybody else seems to have one.

     "I have no real preferences as to where, father," Tanira answers calmly. "I only require," not ask, require, "that whoever I marry be worthy of me. I place a very high value upon myself. And while I mean no offense to those of lesser station and rank in life, I believe that my talents and resources would be wasted on such."
     She sips her cocoa and smiles slightly. She adds demurely, "And, if it please you, I would prefer a rational man. If such exists."

     Iowerth softly chuckles. "That is a tall order, my lovely flower. A rational man." He looks from his husband to his daughter. "I would accept and approve no less than a man of your station. Princes in line to be kings or kings," he thinks aloud, "... there are ...hmm... a thousand nations, of those sixty percent are kingdoms or queendoms, with lesser duchies and counties making up the remainder. On the material realm, few princes of your stature, though the lines of Monaco and Bourbon in Spain are still active, as well as princes of Jordan and Saudi Arabia."
     Glancing to Tiernan again, Iowerth tilts his head. "And I believe with her stature, and her mother's stature, we could include the Princes of Heaven in our inquiries." He looks to Tanira. "That is, with your approval."
     The High King waits to hear from his daughter, taking a moment to finish his French toast and his coffee. Love is in full bloom, or the want of it. So goes winter's discontent. He pauses. Do you have any objections? You seem to be out of the mood for matching. I don't blame you. Look at it this way: when we leave, finally, for our vacation, we will really want it.

     I have no objections. Tiernan squeezes your knee under the table. It is how I deal with loss, Io. We are losing our children. He sips his coffee again. On the other hand, they do seem to be doing their best to ensure we don't miss them as much. You should have seen me when I thought I'd lost you...
     "The Princes of Heaven would be applicable, I should think," Tiernan agrees, "although Zafirah can advise us. Or perhaps take the message; or arrange for us to take it ourselves. I, uh." A dull flush creeps up into his cheeks. "I have a trip planned - she will be taking me there. If need be, I can deliver it myself."

     Tanira listens with that aloof air of patient attendance, then nods daintily. "I do not wish to marry any man who will attempt to contain me," she remarks. "That may be a difficulty with Jordan and Saudi Arabia. He may believe himself my superior. I will, of course, prove him wrong. However, it would be preferable that he not then attempt to even the odds through violence of one sort or another, I think it hardly need be said. Perhaps some sorts of tests...?"

     "I am thinking, for you, the best, the most suitable," Iowerth thinks to say, looking to Tiernan with great affection, "...would be a man from Here. Or Heaven. I think you would bore and tire of mortal men who have not seen as much as you have, Tanira. So, we will first focus on the kingdoms. I will get the process started. I will call the Chamberlain and Chancellor here and we will begin making the lists." He pauses, looking to Tiernan again, curiosity moving behind the periwinkle color of his eyes. "Oh yes? Well," he smiles to you both, "... that solves that then."
     And you should have seen me. I was a wreck. And...yes... we are. Our nest will be cleared out all but for Bahara and Anierin. At least for a while. After that... how shall we console ourselves? Maybe with their children. I miss them all being in the bed, actually. Gruffydd on the outside, Balthazar in the middle, Tanira and Bahara and Sabira all sleeping in the same bed. They were all so beautiful, so cute and clever. And now look at them. Glorious. Every one.
     The subject of tests is immediately intriguing. Iowerth looks to his daughter. "It sounds as though you've already given consideration to this. What are you thinking in terms of tests or...qualifying rounds, if you will?" Beneath the table, a leg gently nudges another and hands clasp.

     Their glory is the ticking clock telling us that our time here is past, in some ways. But the thought is not sour, or grudging. He smiles to you, and beneath the table, his hand clasps yours with a little tug. But at least we are fortunate. Our lives are far from over.
     "We will wrangle over the language," Tiernan agrees wryly. "And the announcement sent out. Have you tests in mind, Tanira?"

     "I think that the first round should be simply a dinner," Tanira remarks easily, sipping her cocoa. "Let there be plenty of other young ladies as well. Some will find their bliss; and if a man finds their bliss with a different lady, it is as well to get that out of the way early, yes? And," her smile is demure, but hinting at her wicked mischievous streak, "it will soften them up for the second test."
     She crosses her legs daintily, sipping her coffee again. She knows how to make a delivery; how to draw out the suspense just enough. She has endless panache. "The second day," Tanira remarks, "they will be told that I have been kidnapped by a newcomer upon the field of the challenge, and am in need of rescue."

     That is it, exactly. But, in truth, our work is never really done. We put aside one set of challenges to take up another. His hand clasps its partner beneath the table, fingers sliding against fingers. But you are with me. We will ... eventually... be on the sea. That's what gets me through the melodrama. Eyes on the prize, love. Eyes on the prize.
     Iowerth glances to Tiernan as he comments on language wrangling. Rustling lingo is a sport. He tips his head back, eyes on his thoughts (and maybe on the mosaic ceiling tiles) as he listens to his daughter's proposition. He smiles as he things. "Intellectual as well as physical challenges," Iowerth mulls, his periwinkle gaze returning to his eldest daughter (his second child). "It is also a test of Will, or spiritual fortitude. I like it. I think it's appropriate. If a man is not willing to cross the Rubicon for the woman ...or person...he loves, he's not much of a man. And," he grins, "...certainly not worthy of my beautiful daughter."
     He looks to the two of you. "While I'm sorting out the dissolution of the six-thousand offers," he smirks, "...would you...and perhaps Ani," he glances to Tanira, "...he's quite good at puzzles... care to assist Tanira in the creation of a set of tests? That is, if she needs or wants the help. She might not. But it could be a fun project for the mind of an engineer who also, I might add, has a wonderful sense of humor." Grinning, Iowerth glances from his daughter to his husband and back and forth. This could be loads of fun...

     "Actually," Tanira answers sedately, "the second challenge is also an intellectual challenge. I wish to see how many of them assume that I cannot take care of myself, and how many of them think to verify whether or not, in fact, I have actually been kidnapped." She sips her cocoa.
     She slants her head to the side, considering the idea. "I think," she says slowly, "that I would prefer not to involve Anierin. His sense of humor is different from mine; and I have of late been involved enough in my brothers' and my uncle's love life to prefer them uninvolved in mine." She speaks delicately but somewhat dryly. "While Anierin has been uninvolved to date, there surely are less ... intimate ways in which he could be of aid?"

     "Actually, I think this would help with the dissolution," Tiernan remarks. "Just make the announcement that Balthazar is not considering any offers but that Tanira is. It will be interesting to see how many come a cropper from trying to change directions so fast." He grins quietly, squeezing his husband's hand again under the table. "...Anierin should be a judge for the crafts competition, I think. If you are in agreement."
     Eyes on the prize, he agrees ruefully. And close your eyes and think of England?

     Close your eyes and think of Greece. It's sunnier. Whether in thought or in voice, the droll, dry tone of your love is in full effect. To his daughter, Iowerth chuckles and nods his agreement. "Very well. I do think perhaps as a judge would be good. He has a very keen eye. And... he seems to have a highly refined bullshit barometer." Iowerth looks to Tiernan. "He must get that from you."
     With a squeeze of a hand beneath the table, Iowerth then lifts both hands to the tabletop, punctuating the decision. "Excellent idea. We are decided. The announcement goes out today. I will be sure to craft it to turn the great machine's momentum onto this task. Do you need abductors to make it seem more authentic?" Grinning, he looks to Tiernan. "Who would ever have thought that Bran's penchant for kidnapping women could come in handy? Or if you do not need the playacting, that is just as well..."

     "Not at all," Tanira answers. "The entire point, after all, is that I will not be kidnapped. I will be in one of the lesser libraries, likely. Anyone incapable of finding me is also incapable of keeping up with me as a wife." She studies her cup, then sets it down discreetly. "There is one risk, of course, and Anierin and Gruffydd and Balthazar should be on hand to address it."

     "Which risk is that?" Tiernan inquires, glancing to you with a sidelong smile. She is so confident. I hope that she is not overconfident.

     "The risk," Tanira answers placidly, "is that as officially I have been kidnapped, it is not impossible that someone clever enough to realize that it is a farce and subtle enough to find me will then seek to kidnap me himself. But I do think that each of my brothers and each of my sisters should have the right to put a potential bridegroom to their own test; one per sibling, yes? It will likely scare most of them off. But," she shrugs lightly, "I am looking for a most extraordinary man, after all."

     She is. I wonder where she gets that trait? Iowerth seems in deep consideration. "I will ensure that the Royal Guards are in position. Even if an attempt were made, he wouldn't get far. I can assure your safety, my daughter." He smiles to her tenderly.
     And then he laughs. "Good lord. Well," he exhales, "...that is a way of proving metal: put it to the fire and see how it bends or if it breaks. I would send them through Sabira first," he chuckles. "That should cull the herd."

     "Very well, father; papa. Shall I inform my brothers and sisters?" Tanira rises to her feet, as calm as when she entered. "Or would you prefer to do so? In any case, I shall need to communicate with my seamstresses. I shall, of course, need an entire new wardrobe for these events."

     So what odds that anyone makes it through to the final rounds? Tiernan smiles though to his daughter, rising to kiss her cheek. "We will see to it that word is spread," he promises. "Try not to bankrupt the kingdom with your shopping, Tanira. And ... would you like us to inform your grandparents ourselves?"

     I hope someone does. She is deserving of joy. Iowerth smiles as he rises, bending to kiss her cheeks as well. He cradles her face in his hands. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of the fun of telling them yourself. We will handle the announcements, security, and of course the budget." He grins. "Enjoy your shopping, my dear."
     Releasing her with a kiss to her forehead, Iowerth returns to his seat and his coffee, taking a sip before setting the cup aside again. "Your nainie will be overjoyed. Your grandpa will be very distressed," he chuckles. "But then, he hasn't had a daughter yet. He hasn't had to know, from day one, that his heart would eventually be broken..."

     "I will tell them, father," Tanira agrees once her face is her own again. She smoothes down her clothes. "And I will break the news to grandfather myself. I do not want them to think that I am avoiding them. Do have a pleasant day, papa, father." And she turns to go.

     Tiernan watches her go with a certain sad fondness. "We have few left in the nest now," he observes. "Brandy or scotch?"

     "I'm heading straight for the juniper whiskey," Iowerth says, watching his daughter leave. He looks to you, a smile on his face but his eyes are moist. "You will have to prop me up that day, you realize. Our little girl," his voice catches in a tightening throat, his smile spreading.
     Suddenly before you both there appear a selection of bottles and two glasses. "First one on the floor wins..."

Posted by rowan at January 10, 2010 12:16 PM