The office has been all business. The tasteful discretion of it all - wealth, quiet rather than ostentatious, expensive but quiet competence as well - all is her father's legacy. But her father himself is gone; and while she has not banished him from her life or her thoughts, her private areas are not designed with his memory in mind.
The penthouse more closely resembles, thus, a seraglio than a place of business. The living room wall is made entirely of glass, overlooking Dubai - or it would, if it could be seen. Right now, a waterfall runs down it on the inside of the wall of glass, caught in a pebbled basin about to three feet out from the wall itself. It begins almost at the front door; the water is caught and filtered, cleansed and recycled back through its system. Visitors are encouraged to take off their shoes and cool their feet in it. As an added touch of whimsy, darting silver and gold fish swim, kept from the filters by a layer of some sort of clumping sea grass planted just over said filter. And, well. If one or two fish are lost...
That is the first thing visitors notice upon arrival, for those so few and so privileged as to be invited up here. The CEO of WinterCorp rarely sees people here. Why should she? She rarely gives interviews, and when she does, it is only to those deemed serious enough journalists. The New York Times was turned down until they stopped insisting on sending their 'fluff' reporters. Oprah, however, was considered - her people will hear back. Eventually.
The walls are painted a pale, creamy yellow, with dark gold mosaic tiles along the bottom and top of the walls as a border. The floor is tile as well - cool grey slate, with hand-woven rugs in crimson and blue and black and yellow. The furniture is low to the ground and lavishly cushioned, inviting people to lounge, recline, relax. The tables are even lower, so that a languid hand need not reach too far for a glass of wine or slice of date cake or bowl of figs.
What lies deeper within, only the mistress of this place knows. One advertising executive claimed to know. Oddly, nobody's heard from him in a while. If the enigmatic CEO knows, nobody quite has the nerve to ask.
The CEO is today dressed in robes which would astonish her employees. Her peacock wings are resting half-unfolded, which would astound them more. Tanira's veil is in place, though slightly skew as she lies upon her chaise, a hand skimming the water and letting the little fish tickle her fingers. Her heart is heavy and her thoughts are burdened. But she is expecting a guest. One who, she suspects, will not come by way of the heavily and jealously guarded elevator. She sits up; she goes into the kitchen and takes a bottle of wine. Everything is available in Dubai for a price; even the fruit of the vine forbidden to the followers of Mohammed. Of course, this wine was not procured locally...
He may have lost his Compass, his Star may be obscured, but Iowerth Rhudd Draig can find his way to any of his children. Water, water, cascading down. Silvery, shimmering, it trickles the dreams of oceans, and silver and gold fish scatter like gems from the force within the water.
He appears quite suddenly but absolutely silently, stepping from the water without the slightest hint of wet. No, he is completely dry. Wearing a fine grey suit with a white shirt and a silver tie, he looks like a winter wave. You are not here, but suddenly you can smell spiced teas and coffees, spiced lamb and warm, cinnamon-roasted nuts. And there is a special dish, just for you, full of the sugared rose and orchid petals that have been your favorite candy all your life.
He assumes that you are still working. Iowerth turns, looking at what you've made here, delighting in the architectural accents, the waterfall that masks the view of Dubai.
Your father -- your daddy -- looks physically restored. His weight has returned to his pre-Yule state. He is perhaps even a bit fitter for all the sailing. His copper-bronze hair is still short, barely long enough to wave and muss. It is easier. His face has the open curiosity that has always been there, and the quiet introspection. The dark circles that marked his insomniac grief are gone. In many ways, it is like watching the earth repair itself after a volcanic eruption. There are signs of life, even health, but the scars remain. A fallen tree here. A missing mountain top there.
Iowerth stands, hands in his pockets, watching the fish swim. He hears something in the kitchen and pivots, his periwinkle eyes bright. "Hello," he offers. "I'm here... I brought snacks..." In this household, that is the solution to all problems, large or small.
"Daddy!"
She comes out of the kitchen, wine bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, eyes alight with the genuine joy of seeing you. "I'm so glad you came." Tanira sets the things down swiftly, then moves to embrace you. "How are you, daddy? Are you hungry? - Of course, you never give me the pleasure of feeding you." She mock-pouts, then smiles, pulling off her veil. You are her father; it's allowed.
She looks at you with dark eyes like her mother's, with dark hair bound back and a smile that is cautious of others but never too cautious with her father. "I'm so glad you're here..."
His heart melts to see you -- you've always held it in the palm of your hands. And what heart he has, you still hold. "Hello, my jewel," Iowerth murmurs as he enfolds you in a greeting hug. It's a hug that lasts a little longer. "It is so good to see you," he answers back.
There is a watery quality to his eyes but it's not for sadness today. "I can make the snacks go away if you want to cook. You look wonderful, beautiful," he says, the hug parting at last. He waits for you to sit before he does. "There is your favorite tea, and coffee. And the lamb-stuffed grape leaves with saffron rice. And the cinnamon walnuts." Everything that he could remember of your favorite foods.
Pivoting, Iowerth gestures to your suite, and by that to everything you've done. "You have a beautiful place. It is like your own oasis," Iowerth says, turning back to look at you. "You've outdone me in architecture. How wonderful..."
"Don't be silly, daddy. If you've brought food, there's no point in my cooking." She isn't offended, but as she has always done, she imperiously informs you of how the world should work. What daughter doesn't, even if her father is a king?
"You like it?" Tanira smiles. "Wait, though, you haven't seen the best part." She breaks from your embrace and picks up a remote control from one of the low tables, and she points it at the window; the waterfall turns off, but not all at once. Instead, it is gradual, in a pattern like a set of curtains drawing back. And as it does, you can see the sun, and the view of Dubai, leading over the city to the gulf. "I leave it on most of the time," she confesses. "I prefer the water to the view."
She waits a moment, then presses the button again, and the 'curtains' close, the water tranquil and without the harsh glare of Gulf sun. "It's expensive and a luxury, but it's one I find I need," Tanira continues. "It soothes my soul after dealing with aggravating people all the time. Sit down, though! And you haven't told me how you are." And now the imperious dark eyes fix upon you once again. What daughter ever outgrows the age of six in her father's eyes?
Iowerth smiles to watch the cascade become a curtain become a view and then back again. "You always had exquisite taste. The water is more soothing but the view is spectacular." He takes the bottle of wine, the corkscrew, and he opens it, setting it down to let it breathe. "There isn't much to tell," Iowerth quietly protests, taking a seat on the low settee. "I'm a King Emeritus."
He avoids it for a moment more, unbuttoning his suit's jacket as he sits back. He pours a glass of wine for you and one for him. "Sabira said I was to mention that she is bored and you must come see her." Shaking his head a little, he smiles at that. As you are his delight, Sabira is his jester.
"I want to hear about you," Iowerth says to you, his full attention on you, the doting look of an adoring father, as he hands you your glass. "Tell me everything. I've been on the water a while. My mail is lagging. I'm sure I've missed something."
"Sabira, bored - save the empire," Tanira answers dryly. You can almost hear your mother in that, except that your mother would be more likely to run riot with Sabira. "I will see her soon, though."
She sits, she takes the wine you hand her, she smiles at you as you deflect. "There is not much to tell. The business is going well. I've only had to have one person banished to a nether realm from which he'll have grave difficulty escaping. On the plus side, if he escapes there, he will make it just about anywhere, and he is unlikely to try crossing me again." She smiles again, and explains in a single word, "Detroit."
Sipping her wine, Tanira crosses her legs and continues. "I have been keeping busy. The business world is, surprisingly, more cutthroat than the girls' politics of the court were. It was still good training, though, for cutting my teeth. I've amalgamated my personal business efforts into the larger corporation, with good results so far, although I have had to make it plain that the next person to try to go behind my back to outsource the silk weaving to China will find himself fired out of a cannon instead of the usual method of being severed from employment with me. And," she hesitates slightly, "...I've postponed the wedding until I could talk to you, daddy, about it."
From cutthroat to your little girl in 0.3 seconds. Does it impress?
It is both impressive and awesome, in that don't mess with Mother Nature sort of way. There was a twist of his mouth and a sip of wine for Detroit. You might have sent him to Hell; it would have been kinder than Michigan. But you continue and your father sits forward, his expression going from quietly impressed to quietly concerned.
"Of course," he says. "I was about to ask a stupid question like Is everything alright? If it were, you wouldn't be postponing." Iowerth sets his wine aside. "I know it's been shattering," your father says softly. "I have to believe... and therefore everyone has to believe... that it will get better. That's what they tell me. So... talk to me," Iowerth says, using your papa's words but with his own caring inflection. He is, he must, make it his own. "What can I do?"
He has next to nothing. He has his children. Everything else, he sacrifices, will sacrifice.
Sending him to Hell would have been unangelic, perhaps; or alternatively, too angelic. It would, however, been altogether too revealing, should he somehow live to tell the tale. But that is a debate for another day. "I know you're mad at Heaven. I am, too." Tanira says it abruptly, putting down her wine. Her lower lip trembles, and she keeps it in line with a sternness towards herself that few in the corporation would know she uses. "I just ... I need to know if it's all right, daddy. If you're - all right with Duma. I guess ... I just ... I can't marry someone you don't like, daddy."
And there it is, in a nutshell. She might marry someone else, but she'll always still be your little girl.
Iowerth exhales as you speak. Whatever anger he feels dissolves away at the tremble of your mouth. "Darling, my jewel," he says, and there is a smile there though it is pained by both his loss and yours. "If you love him, then I like him. If you love him and you find him worthy, then that is all that matters, all that should matter," he counters quietly. "I would never ask you to do anything other than follow your dreams and your heart. Never. My ... feelings... don't really matter in this. Only yours."
His happiness to see you, his love of you, his delight in you, is no guise, no pantomime. But your truth merely illuminates his own. "My feelings, my anger, my grief... they aren't yours to carry, Tanira. If you love him, then marry him as you wish. Or don't marry him if you do not wish. Co-habitate, if it makes you happier. There are no rules, darling. What good do they do anyway?" He smiles at that, though it's less of Joy and more of Realization. Even Resignation, to a certain degree.
"My arguments with Heaven... or that heaven, anyway... are my own. And I have to resolve them, eventually. Sooner, probably, rather than later. I have to connect with... whatever God is out there for me. Just like everyone else. So... please... don't make a decision for your happiness based on what you think might make me happy." Iowerth chuckles, glancing away for a moment and blinking. "Because I'm not even sure what that would be," he continues, looking to you.
"I'm not mad because of you. I'm mad because - because - well, you know why I'm angry with them." Tanira rubs her face, then looks at you again, biting her lower lip. "...He's mad at them too, you know. Well. Maybe 'anger' isn't the right word, but he doesn't agree with what they did. So - that helped, when we talked about it, because ... I don't think I could have married him, could go on caring about him, if he agreed."
She sighs, then smiles, a bit tremulously, looking at you. "I don't know what to do about him. I ... nobody else does move me like him. But yes, I think we're holding off on 'weddings', at least until I know what I'm doing, daddy. I think - I think I'm going to be staying more in this world, at least for the time being."
"I think that you know just what to do and how to do it," Iowerth smiles at you. "I'm proud of you. There's no need to rush, sweetheart. Follow your heart and your own timeline, meet your own expectations, not those of any court. I think it's ...quite smart of you," Iowerth takes a swallow of wine, "...to take your time. But then... I expect nothing less from you than smart, wise, and amazing."
There is a second glance to you as you mention Duma and his opinion. He heard it, accepts it. But doesn't seem to go much further than that. "Don't rush. Love him, if you do. That's all you can really do anyway. Come and go as you please. Answer to no one's terms but your own. Live your life the way you want to. Take the blessings and the lessons as they come."
He says it like it's advice he's trying to give himself, trying to believe for himself. Settling back on the settee, he looks into his glass a moment, then finally sets it aside. He reaches for a handful of nuts. "That you don't know what to do with him means that you must care for him a great deal." He smiles a little. "I'm glad. I love you. I want to see you happy."
"I love you too, daddy. I want to see you happy, too." Her voice is a bit choked, and she picks up her drink again, wiping her eyes one at a time with her palm. "So ... I guess it'd be too transparent if I asked you to stay?"
Tanira sighs, then looks up at you, smile wobbly but present, for the moment. "Would you at least be willing to - to have lunch with me and maybe sometimes with Duma, every now and then? I mean - if he and I are ... going to be anything to one another, he has to be part of my family, too."
He nods as you speak of wanting to see him happy, too. Iowerth nods. "I know, sweetheart." Periwinkle eyes lift to your face. "I know you do, and I really don't want you to worry about me. I know it's been weighing on you, on everyone. I don't want to be any sort of burden, especially to my children. I really... really don't want that. So, please: just know that I am doing the best that I can do, each day, every day. What it will be, who knows. I don't even know what I will be," he smiles a bit at that.
Iowerth's expression softens. "I will stay with you, of course. A few days if you want. I will be back home for the last month of summer, and then I will be going back to the Barony of River's End. I promised Anna that I would administer for her, while she's in the capitol with Maria for the birth of the new crown princes or princesses. I'll be there for the first two months of autumn, just so you know. I'll be sure to give everyone my schedule," he says as a reminder to himself.
"I don't have a problem with Duma. I would be honored to meet you both for lunch or dinner or whatever. Apart from the matter in the autumn and Sabira and Ani, I ...really don't have a schedule." He smiles at that, but it's also part of the problem.
He has no place to be...
No one to be...
No one to be with...
He is having to reinvent everything. "And if either of you want to visit, the villa is large enough, plenty of room for you and Duma to have your privacy and to visit."
"A few days will have to do. You can help me by glowering intimidatingly at account executives who want to take me out to dinner." Tanira smiles at you, just a little bit. "Oh, how is Anna's kingdom? Is it nice? I'm glad Maria will have her mother there for the birth. I know she'd like that."
She is more distant from her own mother, despite the lack of geography, than Anna and Maria from one another. She is aware of it; but it is something for the future and not for now. "Maybe you could set up a consultancy," your daughter says thoughtfully. "Show and tell other people how their kingdoms and duchies should be run. Five thousand gold a day. You could make quite a lot of money at it."
She smiles at you, and she picks up her wine again. "We're not sleeping together, daddy," Tanira says a bit archly. "...But I will keep that in mind, and I will ask him if he'd like to visit. If not, I'll visit without him."
He realizes that there is nothing anyone can tell him about himself. How annoying that must be for everyone involved. Iowerth exhales lightly, his expression one of thought and regret. "I could," he says after a moment's consideration. "And maybe that is the natural progression." Iowerth looks to you with a eyebrows lifted. "Usually kings don't abdicate, they die." He smiles a bit at that. "High Kings seem to be, so far anyway, an exception to that rule. But I don't want to drag Ani all over the world for my work. I don't want to be that sort of father anymore. I feel guilty that he's not with me now. He insisted, he understood, but I still feel as though I'm failing him. I feel like I have failed all of you, really. I can't make up for the past," he says to you quietly, "... but I can change things for tomorrow and the day after that," and his hand motions: and so on.
"It's something to consider. It's probably a smart idea. I just don't know what I want," he smiles helplessly at that. "I wish I did. I wish I did know what would move me. I am a man of no hobbies. My main interest was reading, apart from becoming and then being a king. There's not much call for readers," he chuckles a little at that. Iowerth rolls a shoulder.
"Well, if you are or are not, that's your choice," Iowerth says, returning to the much easier topic to discuss: You. "You're both welcome in any case. And you... you can come any time, of course. Always. Anna's kingdom is lovely," he circles back around to that, pausing to take a sip of wine and a bit of lamb pie. "There are internecine struggles between her late husband's people and hers, with her eldest son being manipulated by her late husband's kin. I hesitated mightily," his eyes are momentarily as sharp as a king's should be, "... it's not something I would ordinarily do, particularly when I'm not feeling my best, sharpest," whatever. "But," Iowerth exhales, "... I do want her to be able to see her daughter. I know how important a moment it is, the birth of any child. And she should be there. So... we'll see. I am hoping to avoid having to flex any sort of muscle at all. If it all comes down to paperwork, that would be lovely."
"You should find out what Ani wants and needs. He's getting to the age where he's almost ready to make decisions for himself, you know. You're saying you don't want to be that kind of father anymore, but you never were that kind of father, daddy. You were always there for us." Tanira looks at you steadily, then picks up a candied violet petal, crunching it between her teeth.
"You may not feel that way, but it's true, daddy. We always had access to you - far more than most children of a sitting monarch. If we needed you, you always made it clear affairs of state could wait." She lets you think about that, and moves on gracefully, picking up her wine. "Right now I don't think you can be moved much, daddy. But picking a direction and going in it at least gives you things you can do, schedules, people to see and be seen by, and so on. It might not be what you want six months or a year from now, but ... it's better than sitting home alone waiting for Sabira and Ani to get home from school, isn't it? And at least it will give you things to think about." Things which are not specters of the past; but she doesn't say that aloud. "I think you should at least think about it, daddy..."
He looks to you, clearly moved by what you say: you can see the gloss come over his eyes, a gloss that is blinked away before it can be otherwise shed. "I appreciate your saying that." His voice is tight with emotion, and quiet. "I have felt a very... absentee father. A part-timer. I wish I could have been there more. But I'm glad you... were not left wanting anyway."
The lamb pie is small and disappears quickly. He is quiet as he finishes it, as he also finishes his glass of wine. He does not pour another for himself, but rather goes for coffee. "You are right." He is hitting upon an area of great resistance. He can feel it; he is sure you can see it. It fills his ears with the tumult of waves crashing into rocks.
"I will think about it," he says. "I will see how the two-month stint in the barony goes. If I like it, if it is something that seems doable, and if Anierin is wishing more independence, then... I will explore it more seriously. It is not something I was ... looking to continue. I need to stop trying to live the life I imagined I would be living right now and think about ... just... right now."
Your father looks at you with narrowed eyes, not in anger, but in examination, in thought, and in his own pain and uncertainty. "Why am I so resistant? I do not know. The idea of it makes me nauseated. I don't know why. It's all I've ever done." He sighs. "Which is probably the answer. I just don't want ...." Iowerth stops. "The only thing from my past I want to keep is my children. I'm don't want to be stuck in a mirage of myself, pantomiming a king-as-consultant. I feel like a Frankenstein, trying to reanimate the dead matter of what I used to be." He chuckles suddenly. "Isn't that ridiculous?"
Iowerth shakes his head at himself. "You shouldn't have to give your father advice. You shouldn't have to talk to him like a little lost boy. I appreciate your advice all the same, Tanira. You're quite brilliant. And I'm sure you're right."
"Nainie would say something rude here to snap you out of it, but I'm not nainie. But we all need advice - does it matter if you're getting it from me instead of from her or taid? Anyway, if I'm so brilliant, that just makes my advice more meaningful," your daughter retorts. Her smile is quite bewitching. Perhaps it's just as well so few people see it.
She rises, wine set aside, and goes to you, arms draping around your shoulders in a hug. "You were never absent when it mattered. Not one of us holds any grudge against the throne or against you, and you showed up to every event that mattered, you always knew what was going on in our lives. The only way you could've been more present is if you had people spying on us regularly - and I don't count Uncle Gwi, he's just nosy of his own accord." Tanira kisses the top of your head. "You're right, you can't think about what was planned. But even if being king doesn't suit you, there are so many other things you could do. You like to read; you could give Gillian a run for her money in the scholar business. Or you could become a professor, you know. Nobody knows more about government than you do."
She touches your shoulder before drawing away, returning to her seat and picking up her wine. "Nothing's going to exactly fit your mental image of yourself right now, daddy. I don't think you have much of a mental image of yourself, right now. So the one thing you can do, should do, is dabble. You've never had the chance to before, have you?"
You know where you and Sabira inherited the eyeroll. It is there, the origin of your own, when you mention his mother, your nainie, and what she would likely do. But you're enough like her -- just enough. He closes his eyes as your arms drape over him, and his hand reaches up to cover your own.
Sometimes, a hug is just necessary...
"Thank you," he says again as you kiss the top of his head and return to your seat. Iowerth shakes his head. "No, I never dabbled. I was captain of my own ship at eleven, and out exploring, practicing the dreaming of oceans, turning stars into water." What Gruffydd inherited after him. "And then I met your papa at seventeen, and then I was king. Everything was about the process of becoming a king from a prince, learning diplomacy and rule and economics and government and all that is entailed in such things. I've never done anything else."
He looks at you from across the chair. "The advice is good, the advisor more than fair," he smiles a little to you. "And very meaningful. I wish you were not having to give it," he says with another slight roll of his eyes to himself. "But there is no point in wasting wishes. And... no... I really do not," he admits in his softest voice. He'd be surprised if you heard that at all. "A professor of government might not be a bad thing. I would probably rather do that than be in government at this point. I could be a goodwill ambassador, help release hostages like an ex-President."
"There, you see? You're already coming up with good ideas." Tanira smiles a little back at you, and she sips her wine. "Nobody can argue your qualifications. And you have your own ship, your own resources - you would need only a little in the way of further resources, manpower and the like. You should, I think, think about what you would need and what it would take to achieve any or all of these options, daddy. Then ... whichever one calls you the most ... you'll know how to get there from here."
She does not suggest you speak to Gruffydd, or Gwilym, or anyone else. This is something you will need to come up with, plan accordingly, on your own. Whatever support or resources you find you need - it has to come from you; she's planted the seed. The rest is in your hands. But there is one other thing she can do, say.
"I love you, daddy. Whether you're a king or an ambassador or a professor or a sailor, it doesn't matter to me. You'll always be my daddy, and I'll always be your princess, first and forever."
It was a difficult thing to do, to allow himself an idea. He had to be prodded into it, like by the business end of a bayonet. But he moved. It is such a difficult thing. Every step is a step further away from What Was. Ergo, the nausea.
His eyes lift as you speak, and your father smiles. He loves you with all of his heart; it is on his face and in his eyes. No matter the nausea. No matter the sadness and pain. He moves anyway and loves you with everything he has, even if he is neck-deep in the sea-change of all sea-changes.
Maybe I have something to offer after all...
"First and forever," Iowerth repeats." He exhales and looks around to all the food. Sick to his stomach though he is, he begins to load up his plate. "Don't make me do this alone," he teases.
"Never, daddy," Tanira answers demurely. And she smiles at you as she picks up her plate and moves to join you with the food.
Posted by rowan at October 28, 2010 09:59 PM
