It is the height of the trading season. Markets are at their limits, bursting at the seams with goods from all corners of the united kingdoms. So, too, are the trading routes. The trading summit, held every fourth year and lasting a full week, is in progress and, just as at every other summit, King Iowerth Rhudd Draig is the patient ear and mediator.
     Such summits mean days of meetings with various guilds. Some of the meetings are, thankfully, social in nature. The weavers prefer to gamble and the gamblers to network. The coffee merchants prefer to drink wine and the vintners guild enjoy the tours of the various wineries that surround the capitol city.
     The shipping merchants? They argue. Incessantly. They beseech, they petition, they debate, they wrestle and they rarely ever take a break from it. King Iowerth has to argue his way both in and out of such meetings!
     "You know I cannot take a position that favors one duchy over another, one shipping company over another. I am and must remain completely impartial, Master Kinrych." King Iowerth walks without guards from the large downtown forum, where the meetings and convention largely take place, toward his basilica. He is clothed grandly in a waistcoat and trousers, all in various tones of white. It makes his gold-streaked copper hair seem like a brushfire and his periwinkle eyes seem like stars.
     An insistent man strides after him, gainfully attempting to match the king's longer stride. "But your majesty, while I respectfully understand your position, and understand you must appear impartial to the various guilds, I feel that this proposal by the Catalonians must be met and tempered by Your Royal Opinion..."
     And so it goes, back and forth like the tide until the royal road is reached. Remaining even-visaged as ever, Iowerth pauses his stride and claps his hand on the man's shoulder. "Master Kinrych, we will have to continue this sparring tomorrow when the meeting reconvenes," he inclines his head and twists a half smile as the insistent Master Kinrych starts to protest. "You have had my attention all day," the High King drolls. "The weavers are going to get jealous."
     With that, King Iowerth journeys onward alone, his ears buzzing with the echo of business, his head crowded with complaints, ideas and compromises. The walk up the royal road is a peaceful one; the one moment of peace he's had since waking. There's a nice thought. The summer sun was cresting just over the window sill. The light brushed its hand through your hair. And like naughty boys skipping school we stayed in bed all through breakfast. Those are the small rebellions that bring happiness to the king.

     He is in the bedroom again, though not in the bed. He is not taking part in the trade conferences; he could, wealthy as he has by now made himself with his endeavors. (More than once, it has been complaints against him and resentment on his position that has been brought up in these meetings. After all, surely the High King helps his own husband?)
     Presently, Tiernan leans against the window, looking out along the sea. He is dressed simply, comfortably; he has spent the day handling matters of paperwork, and receiving reports. And now here he is, in rather early from his office, all in all...
     I have taken the liberty of having a light supper sent in for us. Along with some of the wine we bought five years ago, brought in from the isles of the west. I hope your day has not proven so arduous that you are ready to throw in the towel on the night.

     A smile moves across his entire expression to hear your voice in his soul, your thoughts in his ears. Hardly... though I am rather weary of hearing the complaints of sailors. You aren't going to complain, are you? The King smiles to his subjects and his staff alike as he heads into the grand basilica that is his home and the home of State. No one halts him as he makes his way to the residential halls.
     Thank you for supper. I'm officially starving. I've only had politics and squabbles to nibble on. Tomorrow, I am bringing snacks. How has your day been, my love? Tell me all about it.
     It is not so long until he is heard entering the main living area of your suites. His waistcoat is left on the sofa, leaving the white shirt and white leather trousers. I am craving bread and cheese, fruit and wine. Simple snacking, I think. And then, I think, just you. When he is suddenly visible, he creates a stir -- though you are the only one present to enjoy it. He is a glimmering thing, the High King, and in his simple attire he seems a young man again. Only the crinkling of his eyes in his smile betrays him. "You are coming to the summit tomorrow, yes? Do not leave me alone with them for another day. Nos dda," Iowerth speaks at your ear as he comes up behind you and enfolds you in a warm hug.
     He smells of honey and the sea. The honey -- from the soap of this morning's attentive bathing. The sea -- from his time with sailors and merchant marines no doubt. "No meetings again until... after lunch tomorrow," Iowerth grins. "Can you take the morning off with me?"
     I believe the High King is asking you to play ...hooky, sir...

     He smiles at you, turning from the window, moving into your arms with gentleness and a vigor that lends strength to his embrace. I love you, his eyes say even though his lips say nothing. A hand lifts to rest atop your head as if in benediction before he frees you. "My day has been busy. I have been tracking a cargo of pearls and oyster shell, and receiving messages on some spices which were supposed to arrive in the south yesterday. The price of sailcloth has just gone up - likely someone fiddling about in the weavers' guild, again - and we will somehow not end up in the poorhouse, all the same, as I keep reminding my accountants."
     He is tired, and that is there, in his eyes - but he is glad to see you all the same. "I will come to the summit if you wish, certainly. But you will need to bribe me," Tiernan murmurs, leaning in to kiss you as he turns, catching your mouth sweetly with his own. I have missed you. He squeezes you, then releases you, waiting as the food is brought in and servants again depart. And then he moves to take a seat, patting the cushion beside him. Join me?
     "I may be able to take the morning off. It will depend on what remains to be dealt with. I have some things which we should discuss, Io." Patient, as always. There is no sign that this is something out of the usual. Tiernan smiles at you quietly, bending to pour the wine. "Nothing too terrible. But I have been hearing from Gruffydd about his trip."

     His hair is soft to the touch, thick as ever, though it is turning gilded with Time. Eventually he will be a burnished blond. He bends to your kisses, returning them sweetly, earnestly. I love you, too. It is in his eyes, in the downsweep of lashes as he looks to your mouth, and in the hug that was returned for your own.
     "Oes?" And although it has been a long day of negotiations and mediation, his curiosity is piqued and all hints of tiredness fall away. It is an attentive husband that sits beside you, settling on the cushion. Humor and warmth... love for you and his eldest son... dawns over his face. "And just where is our son, the Traveling Prince?" He reaches out to take a glass of wine as you finish pouring. "It must be going well, wherever he is," Iowerth notes with a sip. "His notes have been somewhat cryptic. Dear father," he waxes on, "... weather has been good, the ship is free from leaks. Speaking of leaks, the pub at the pier here serves a most excellent leek and basil soup..."
     He chuckles into his glass as he tips it for a drink. His boy and his obsession with food. Wonder where he gets it...

     "His first stop along the route was to be in Anna's kingdom," Tiernan remarks blandly. He offers you wine, then begins to divide up bread and cheese, figs and honey, hummus and lentils, and other little bites and pieces. "He has quite liked it - and yes, the food there has been one of his likings, though not the only."
     "So much, so, in fact, that he has not yet left."
     He sips his own wine, settling back with a plate in his lap after handing you a plate of your own. "He arrived during their midsummer festival; Anna seems quite pleased with him, almost as much so as if she'd pushed him out herself. She and I have been in communication - she sends her love, by the way, and has remarked on his appetites."

     That gets a regal eyebrow raise. He's still there? You can see him already coming to a conclusion. "Are we talking about his love of food, or one... or more..." he knows his son, "... of her children?" His mouth twists a sardonic and all too knowing curve. "Just tell me that no one is pregnant."
     He sets the wine aside and folds his hands against his stomach. There is a fond look for Anna. She who was quite nearly his wife has become, over the years, a close friend and correspondent. "I will be sure to give her my love in my next letter. Though, if you speak with her again in the short term, please do convey that. Do we need to ... convey anything else?"
     Iowerth is not concerned about the loitering. The tour was to be at an easy pace. Promises were given to few -- Anna's kingdom was among the few promised a visit. In fact, he seems more amused than concerned. "So... tell me, love. Who is it?"

     "No one is pregnant." Tiernan is patient. "And it is Anna's only daughter - Maria."
     Admission number one. He takes some hummus, pinching bread around it before he pops it into his mouth. She is an intelligent girl, with a certain amount of spirit, from what I understand. She fell out of an apple tree and tried to hit him with apples. You get a sidelong look, and then he sips more wine. She is still a virgin for now.
     He is working his way up to it. Once his mouth is free, Tiernan sets the plate and the wine aside, reaching for the bottle to top off your glass and his own. He suspects you will need it. "He contacted me the night he met her. It has now been about a week, I think."

     Is any father really prepared to hear that his son is in love for the first time? He takes you up on your offer of additional wine and takes fig and bread and olive oil upon a plate. The king is quiet for a moment. He sighs, but looks resigned. "If she is anything like her mother, I am sure it is easy to adore her. Gruffydd," he says out loud to his son, who cannot hear him.
     Iowerth rubs his forehead as the sweetness of the ripe fig and the savory flavors of the bread and olive oil dissolve on his tongue. He chases it down with the wine. "If he is in love, and if he wishes to pursue a marriage, then what am I to do... as his father and his king... but to support him in it. Has he asked her... officially? For her sake," he smirks, "I hope she has excellent chaperones." His eyes widen a touch. He's heard the stories of his son. He is not deaf to gossip.
     Iowerth looks to you. "What do you think, love, about all of this? You've spoken with him and with Anna. I welcome the alliance. I have no issues with the match. I was hoping he'd make it through the whole tour before he saw something he just had to have but..." He exhales with a smile. "When it happens, it happens. It did with you and me. I saw you and had to have you. And then, of course, I did." Iowerth's periwinkle eyes twinkle in the memories. "I suppose he gets that from me... and I had it coming...oes?"

     There is an easing of tension, bit by bit. You are taking it better than he had feared. "There was very nearly a kidnapping. Fortunately, wisdom prevailed. Gruffydd called me, asking about having her ... join him ... on his trip."
     Tiernan settles back, reaching to give your thigh a squeeze. I have never regretted following you. Never. His smile to you is filled with his heart, worn on his sleeve as always where you are concerned. "I met with them and I arranged for a suitable chaperone. They do not wish to be parted. And - well - the chaperone sent word to me, while you were in session today..."

     You and he have had your ups and downs over the years, particularly when you were both headstrong young men. To hear you speak of no regrets, there is a softening both of his demeanor and his expression. And I have never regretted seducing you. There is a chuckle for that. But mostly there is a kiss.
     Sitting close to you, the king nods and he finishes his wine. "I'm glad that cooler heads prevailed. It would not look good for the crown prince to kidnap the daughters of various kingdoms as he winds his way through his inheritance." Iowerth smiles at that. "So... that is where you went... that morning." He begins to piece it together, his head tipping back. "As his king, and as his father, I have ... really... only one insistence to make: and that is that he continue and complete the tour as scheduled. He has at least four other constituents who have been promised a visit. And it is his... coming out... as it were. Of course... I wasn't originally intending for it to be a marriage tour, but... we can't foresee every wrinkle in the universe, can we?"
     His arm comes around you and he draws you in for a hug. "Tell me... our boy is in love. So... what did the chaperone say?" His voice is very near, very soft -- kept between you two. There is a certain kind of pang -- the one that realizes his little boy is truly grown. There is not anger -- it's not unexpected, and in truth the boy has been 'grown' for some time now. But there is wistfulness. And although he is reluctant to see Gruffydd grow up and away, he knows he cannot stop it. No more than his father could.
     His emotions are on the move beneath the surface. You can tell by his hold.

     He lifts his hand, trailing fingers against your cheek. For as long as you have been together, there has been something of soothing and comfort between you and he, as much and as often as strong passions. "He has no intention of cutting the tour short. He may end up in agony, but he will see it through. The chaperone has agreed to undertake the mission; she is the only woman I'd trust to see it through. Our son is too much like his fathers," Tiernan smiles at you, "and one father in particular."
     He means you, of course. With your ways of finding ways into where you want, when you want, what you want - your ways were never as sneaky as your twin's, but they were your own ways, and definite. "She tells me that he has reported smelling apples when Maria touches him. It is not artifice, apparently - she arranged a test of it herself. And she has been making quite sure that he knows what is expected of him, and has been making his life miserable just a bit when he ... seems in danger of slipping."
     You receive a kiss, gentle but firm, to your forehead, and he draws you to him. Food can wait. "She has sent me some preliminary paperwork - rough drafts of marriage contracts. Anna says she has been doing wonders, but that her husband is nervous and may spear Gruffydd if we don't get things sorted faster rather than slower. Oh, and the chaperone apparently turned two of Anna's nieces into a hedgehog and a serpent, respectively."

     He will want to be soothed later. You know the ways. But for now, he is content in being held and spoken to softly. Apples and hedgehogs -- an odd combination. Iowerth again arches a regal eyebrow. "And... who did you find to be chaperone to keep an eye on Gruffydd, two eyes on the princess, and ... apparently... a wand upon the family?" He truly has no idea.
     "I will look at the paperwork in the morning," Iowerth notes. "We need to be careful with the settlement clauses and pay-outs regarding male lovers..." He is thinking aloud, as he is wont to do. He doesn't linger on these matters tonight, however. No, he is a bit surprised.... a bit too surprised for that.
     "Well, whatever we need to do to ensure her ... safety," he smirks, "...and Gruffydd's, we will do. I will pass along assurances to the girl's father tomorrow after I've had a chance to look at the paperwork. I don't want to bring ... too much attention to the arrangements by showing up. I think having you handle it as the King's consort is a wiser, far more subtle move."
     Iowerth's hand wipes at his mouth, his thumb and forefinger pressing at his lips a moment. "We will need to ensure that the girl remains intact. We might have to...allow him to marry on the ship and have a ceremony here afterwards... just to be on the safe side. Of course, we wouldn't want the bride to be six months pregnant by the time they arrive here either..."
     The High King exhales a breath. "It can't all be solved tonight," he tells himself. Iowerth looks to you with a smile. "I will do my best not to attempt to. So... tomorrow... we will look at the contract... I will contact her father and Anna... I will speak with Gruffydd... and we will move this matter forward expediently. So much for staying in bed tomorrow morning." He slants a grin. "It does, however, mean that I can get out of the rest of the meetings to attend to this. A silver lining found..."
     Closing his eyes, Iowerth kisses you. It is a tender thing, his kiss, and in it the echo of nostalgia. Wistfulness. Those periwinkle eyes are shiny with water when they reopen. "Can you believe it?" the High King whispers. "Our son..."

     "I have arranged for the only chaperone in existence, I think, capable of ensuring that our son's future bride will remain intact unto her wedding night." Tiernan smiles at you, drawing his fingers through your hair with a gentle tug. "But yes, the contracts may wait until tomorrow. I have underlined the only areas I found questionable, and made some additional notes. Anna, if you need wonder, is besides herself at the possibility. She thinks that it must be intended."
     His touch has something of wistfulness, now, as well. How close he came to losing you - not once, but many times. How happy it is that it did not result in such - you see it, taste it on his lips, unspoken. His fingers spin your hair away from your forehead gently. "Our son. He is a man now - not quite a full grown man, but no longer a boy. He has a foot receding from childhood, and his weight is upon his adulthood. Still, he is a handful. I do wish Maria well. As for who the chaperone is, my heart, there is only one woman other than Gruffydd's mother who could handle any son of yours."
     Tiernan smiles at you again, gentle and calm and confident. There is a spark of amusement, nonetheless. "It seemed the most appropriate choice politically as well. The Queen Mother is attending as chaperone to the Princess Maria for the duration of this cruise."

     That elicits a laugh. "God help Gruffydd. Princess Maria is in good hands." That is a relief, you can see it. When he laughs, it frees his eyes to let loose of their gathered water. He blinks a few tears away. He is not sad -- far from it -- but he is a man of great emotions, as you know. You do indeed know that. "I am... so thankful for you," Iowerth whispers. "And... thank you for apprising me of the matter. I will... be ready to great our new daughter when she arrives with him. We should invite her family, and make sure they have passage on a royal ship." Another mental note made.
     "Do you mind if I get horizontal? It's been a long day and suddenly... I feel the need to sprawl. My brain is full." He chuckles softly at that. "Very full. I need a temple massage and another glass...or two ...or twenty... of wine." Leaning forward, Iowerth kisses you warmly, tenderly. He gives your hand a squeeze. I think I need to not think for a while. His voice issues within you, sliding against your skin, whispering upon your blood and in your ear.

Posted by rowan at July 15, 2008 05:22 PM