With the coming of the New Year, and the promise of new snow to add to the several inches received already, the families are beginning to disperse, to return to their own manor houses and cottages. As big as it is, Powis Castle is becoming intimate once more. All that's left are a couple of cousins, and your husbands two and children three.
     While you slept in warm arms and prepared yourself for a new day, the Oak King, Peter and Aeron and Bran wandered the snowy grounds in search for winter adventure. New corgi puppies (Brenin and Bau) trailed along, hopping more than trotting to get through the drifts of snow.
     Their mother was added to the fun soon after, coming to join them after lunch. And now that it's evening, the short days gone dark by six, the children are off for their after dinner play-time with the remaining cousins and saying their goodbyes -- for Aeron and Bran it will be goodbye for a long while. By next Christmas they'll be men.
     There is summer in the middle of winter. The Orangerie overlooks the view of the white hills and mountains - winter in full view. But within the Orangerie it is balmy with roses in bloom and fruit trees in their false summer preparing to fruit. The Orangerie is an interior greenhouse garden, with comfortable sofas dotted here and there. A very comfortable place for lingering and loitering.
     And drinking...
     Red-gold hair gleams in the lighting. He doesn't need a greenhouse to feel summer - it exists wherever he is. His hair is cut in layers, mussed here and there but still longer in front than in the back. He's clothed in red leather with a white, short-sleeved tee-shirt. His red hounds can be seen running, hunting, baying at his biceps, and can still be seen, indicated really, beneath the white of his shirt at his shoulders, chest and torso.
     Rhodri pauses the shaking of the cocktail, glancing to you with a smirking grin as he pours two peppermint martinis. "These are sweet, I warn you. But I've just perfected them. Hate to stop making them now I've the hang of it..."

     It is comfortable, being here with you. Cozy, in the moment. She is casually clad, jeans and a blue and white striped sweater, fuzzy socks on her feet. "I don't mind a bit of sweet. I get sour in other directions." Fiona laughs, holding out a hand for the drink. She is - relaxed. Superbly relaxed, really...
     She looks out the window, then relaxes back again, closing her eyes contentedly. "Mm," she murmurs. "Nice. A taste of summer in the middle of winter. Nice when it's not overdone. How're you today, darling?"

     Drinks materialize like jewels, from his fingers to yours. Either way, you're dripping. "I would like to take credit for it," the summer in winter, "...but the greenhouse has a heater." It's not all him. "Me? Good. Glad that most of the cousins are gone. Two weeks of family's about all I can take."
     He settles on the sofa with you, extending his arm and offering you his body to rest against. He makes a fine chair, a finer bed. He doesn't ask about your night last night; it is, no doubt, the reason for your languor. He doesn't have to ask. He grins and knows.
     "Soon the house will be all ours," he whispers. Yes, Davydd will be heading back to London; Llew and Audi left early this morning. An arm settling around you as he draws you in, Rhodri tilts his head to look at you as his hand lifts to brush back your golden hair. "We are going to be busy in the best sort of way. Have you told him, yet?" That you are trying for another heir. Chuckling suddenly, Rhodri looks to you with upraised eyebrows and a smirk. "Or were you waiting for the Spring Thaw." And he doesn't mean the weather...

     She licks at her wrist, then at the rim of her glass, leaning companionably in against you. She is indeed languid; unhurried, unrushed. Her eyes close, and she makes a contented sound in the back of her throat. "Lovely to see everyone, of course," Fiona murmurs, head tipped to your shoulder. "Really, it is. But yes... nice to settle in again."
     She nuzzles as you draw her in, in no rush. She glances to you. "Told him? I thought you did." And now her expression is almost comical in dismay, biting at her lower lip. Ah, shite. Not more drama. "I guess we'd best do that, hm?"

     "I would have told him, if he'd come within ten feet of me for the past week." Emerald eyes roll. You've seen Gwi make that look a thousand times. "I'm giving him one more week to get over his shite," Rhodri announces. "And then I'm going to tie him up to a chair."
     A sidelong look slips over to you. You know he'll do it. And he'll tie you up before the week is out too. Grinning at the thought, Rhodri leans in and gives you a kiss on your forehead. "Let's do it tomorrow," comes the conspiratorial whisper. "I don't want to jinx what could be a nice, quiet night..."

     The call for peace... well, the insinuation of peace and quiet... was simply too much for him to bear. It is as if the very idea of you and Rhodri relaxing in one another's arms set off his bed alarm. As the two of you cuddle and coo on the sofa, your drinks sipped in the quiet, there are the sound of steps. Of course, sound is slower than he, for as soon as you begin to hear him he is already in view.
     "Oh good, I'm interrupting," the quip is warm and lifting following by the jing-jangling of dog tags. At Davydd's heels, the two small corgi pups: one black-and-tan and the other fawn and white. Brenin a Bau! King and Country! Davydd's clothed in a heather-grey sweater and darker grey wool trousers. His copper hair is cut and kept short, just long enough for the hint of a wave, but not long enough for it to be untamed.

     "Da," Rhodri turns his head, but doesn't let you go from his arms, "... good to see you." He leaves it at that.

     "I know it's your night, I know," he's looking over the bottles Rhodri had brought here, trying to find something of interest. Davydd settles on the brandy, uncapping it and pouring a goodly glass. "I just thought before I head on for the night with the boys, we could all be in the same room together..."

     "I was going to give you another week," Rhodri magnanimously drawls out.

     Davydd takes a swallow of the brandy with the quirk of a grin. "You're a good man. But there's no need. Is there, sweetheart?" And now those dark green eyes are on you, while Rhodri's arms are around you. It's almost like old times, and it's as close as you're going to get to having them both hold you at the same time. "How are you, darlin?" D'you mind? a sudden thought shared with you both?

     No, go ahead...

     Davydd crosses over to the sofa and bends, giving his wife a morning/evening kiss. "Evenin', you flowering rose, you." But out of respect for the son and king, he leaves it at that, taking himself and his brandy to the sofa across from you.

     She does indeed know it's true. Though the mental image of you tying Davydd to a chair is ... well, she can't help herself; she giggles, face going flushed for a moment before she settles again. "I think he'd fight that more than I do," Fiona murmurs. She sighs, closing her eyes - and opening them again at the footsteps.
     Well, this is unexpected... Fiona sits up a bit, smiling as she spots the corgis, calling to them. "You've got them tagging along everywhere already. Oh, they're so adorable!" Sucker that she is, she likes her dogs small and fuzzy, her man big and strong.
     And you two go into your routine, and Fiona smiles, accepting the kiss and returning it with a bit of interest. "Frick and Frack yourselves, long before the boys," she mutters. "When're you taking your act on the road?"

     Grinning like a proud father -- and he is that on several accounts, isn't he? -- Davydd turns to give a look to the pair of corgis now tussling at his feet. "I never thought I'd find another pair after Bwci and Rhyddid decided to go to the Elysian Fields, but they're good boys. Hey," he rumbles, then he whistles, neither of the puppies paying him any mind. "Sit," he commands so seriously as they continue to chew on his shoes and ignore his regal pronouncements. "Stay. Good dogs." He snorts and takes a swallow of brandy.

     Rhodri smirks as the two bundles of chaos-in-fur roll over to Fiona. Bending down, he gives one of them his hand, only to have it gnawed on. "Brenin a Brau, eh?" His amused smile is still in place as he sits back, an arm still around his lady. "We should all eat together," Rhodri notes, his attention shifting to Fiona, "... like a proper family. Just because it's One Night or Another Night," yours, mine, and ours, "... doesn't mean we can't, or shouldn't, spend time as a family, all packed in together."

     "You're right," Davydd notes with a nod, as the bundles of Welsh mischief roll on the marble floor, wrestling and softly growling. "The last couple of weeks were pretty fucking silly," his rumble eases out, all warmed by brandy. Dark green eyes lift to you both - he's not avoiding looking at you - and Davydd smirks. "I'll be the first to admit it..."

     "Good," Rhodri chuckles, "... since the last couple of weeks worth of silliness was pretty well your doing."

     "You don't have to rub my nose in it. I know the shite is mine," Davydd's voice lifts, humorously agitated. "Not like these two," he notes to the dogs. Well, if they take a squat, he'll grab a towel. He watches them, but doesn't seem concerned. "I think dinner'd be nice," he quietly notes.

     Rhodri glances to you, an eyebrow lifting. Should we go ahead then and tell him... he seems a bit... malleable at the moment. That thought rattles in the air between you as Rhodri slowly grins. That grin. That evil, beautiful grin. There's no telling what we can get out of him...

     She laughs, watching the puppies and making faces. "So CUTE!" She doesn't quite squeal it, but it's a close call. "We can eat together, of course," she adds absently, watching the puppy and cooing a bit. She can't help it; she's a sucker, all right. "What kind of diet are the puppies on?"
     There, see? She's got puppy love...
     Go ahead... I know how much you like being mean. She is tolerant, even as she's leaning forward to coax the puppies to come sniff her hands with their wet little noises. "Brenin a Brau!" Fiona carols to them. "Come here, puppy. Aww, who's a good puppy...."

     That halts Rhodri a moment and elicits the most extraordinary look; What? Me? Mean? But he doesn't harumph or make a scene like your other husband. He simply lifts his eyebrows in acknowledgment and settles back with a slight smirk. For now, he says nothing.

     Davydd cants a smile as he watches the woman in the room go stereotypically sweetie-pie for the animals. But who's he to cast aspersions? He does the same thing, not that he'll let either of you witness that. Ever. "Now, don't go spoiling them too much. And no giving them cookies without them earning it for sommat."
     There is an elephant in the room. The thought that materializes does so between the three of you, Davydd's voice appearing in the back of your ear canal, and at the back of Rhodri's head like the touch of his hand. Davydd's settled back on the sofa across from you both, a deep draught of brandy taken and swallowed. Well? His look is expectant and it travels back and forth from you to your husband as he pauses to light a cigarette. The corners of his mouth tilt up slightly. "If someone doesn't say something soon, I'm going to think that there's something going on..."

     It seems he already knows. Rhodri glances to you, and then he looks to his father. Right now, they are not father and son: they are two kings, they are two husbands. They are your husbands. But Rhodri waits for your lead in this matter.

     "Spoil them? I wouldn't do that, would I? Oh, you two are just too cute for words." Fiona and the Queen. Crazy about corgis. She coos over them again, then straightens up. "Oh, there's nothing much going on," she adds, matter of fact about it, despite the blush already creeping into her cheeks. "It's Rhodri's turn, that's all, so we're thinking of trying for another baby."
     It's the same way she dropped the truth about you two to her father, only without the sudden awkward exit stage left. She smiles serenely, expecting it'll all work out. "Nothing going on at the moment... Could I have another drink?"

     Smoke puffs out in his cackling laugh as he looks at you and at Rhodri's stereotypically nonplussed look. "Not exactly the best kept secret, no. I have ears and a calendar. Besides," and he looks at Rhodri there, "...it makes perfect sense. But you're going to your castle for that, oes?" Both he and Rhodri very well remember the last time you carried the Oak King's child.

     "Sure," Rhodri rises, "...how about an old favorite?" He doesn't tell you what that familiar potable might be, mind you. He simply crosses over to the selection of bottles and glasses he had brought in and starts concocting a surprise. "I thought my castle this time," Rhodri says as he looks up to you both, "...since she can come back and forth from Avalon and Powis as easily as opening a door to a closet. And you can have your nights," the drawl of his voice continues so smoothly, "... easily enough. Shouldn't provide too much inconvenience."

     Davydd whistles for the dogs as he rises from his seat. They tumble after him and as he opens the door from the Orangerie to the garden terrace they continue their tumbling outside. "Piddle time, boyos." Closing the door behind him, Davydd shoves the cigarette in his mouth. "It's his time, and doesn't do for a king of his stature to be without an heir. I've no problem with it." Sighing smoke, Davydd crosses over to his seat and crushes out the cigarette. "Look, it's my doin' that you're walkin' on eggshells. And I'm sorry. There's no worries. I'm looking forward to another grandchild. The boys and I will help out."

     Rhodri smiles to his woman. "Take a sip down memory lane," he murmurs. He hands you the drink and then bends to kiss you. It is a gentle, loving thing. But as always there is the hint of things not so gentle. I love you, you gorgeous woman. Straightening, Rhodri turns to look at his father. "Thanks, da. I was a bit worried after the last time around," an admittance shared with you both. "But I do need another heir, now that mine's run off." He grins.

     The last time...
     Even if it was the fault of a foul witch, now dead. Fiona does not seem unnerved, however. She smiles, making herself as comfortable as can be. "I'm not walking on egg shells," she points out serenely. "I said it, and I figured you'd be all right with it, and I'm not sorry. So there." She sticks her tongue out at the both of you, smiling, then leaning up to accept the kiss with a shudder that isn't entirely suppressed. And she takes the drink, despite the gentleness...
     "Run off," she murmurs, scoffing. "That wasn't run off, that was run finally onto the bloody track, got hit by the Fate Train, looked comically surprised, then flew off into the sunset. I hope he's taking proper care of himself," she adds suddenly, fretting as a mother only can. "Run off. Hmph. Run off, my bloody arse..."

     The goose walks over the graves of our memories. Rhodri keeps that thought to himself as he feels the shudder. He knows where it originates: for you and for him. But he smiles as he hands you the Manna from Heaven -- remember that night at Bettie's Boobs? -- and then takes a seat beside you, to keep you close. His hands are on you - they can't keep from you - whether it's the slightest touch of his hand to your leg, his eyes on your face, or his arm around your shoulders and his hand in your hair. "I'm sure Gwilym Gwyn Garu is taking proper care of himself... and a few others."

     At the scratching on the door, Davydd rises again, his brandy and his cigarette both gone. He opens the door to let the short-legged terrors charge back in. "He's good. Busy. He'll be busy for a while," Davydd notes. "But your description is, as ever, right on the nosey. Alright," he bends down and takes a dog in each hand. For all their energy, as soon as they're lifted, they quiet right down. "I'll go put these boys in the kennel and get the other boys out of....whatever trouble they're into." His voice rumbles low at the very thought. They have been quiet for a while...
     That can't be good...
     "I'll see y' both for dinner, oes?" He doesn't wear out his welcome nor does he seem to be pitying himself for it not being his night or his time. It simply is as it is.

Posted by rowan at January 08, 2008 07:07 PM