A Man of Wealth and Taste

Midir had picked out which empty bedroom they were to occupy, and, much to his dismay, Keelia had insisted on tagging along. Something about Christmas wishes, and that rather naughty glint in her eye was more disturbing than a lot of things.

He knew she'd slept with Sam before, and fine, they were involved in a three-way relationship as well, so it wasn't like he'd never seen her with another man, but he and Michael were careful with her. They didn't want to hurt her. They kept the rougher games to themselves and so why exactly was she coming along with him and Sam?

Sam was upset by the story. Anyone could see that and what he needed was liable to turn dark and Midir didn't want her seeing that side of them. She shouldn't have to deal with that sort of behavior.

But Keelia was stubborn and gave him a look, and tried to explain that she'd seen it before. That she knew. That the first time she and Sam had been together had not been gentle, but there was only so much she could tell him before he looked like he didn't believe her and maybe, just maybe that was the Christmas wish. To break the pedestal he had her on and finally be free of it so he'd actually see her.

Or maybe it was just because the mere idea of Sam and Midir was hot and she wanted to see.

Midir looked rather suspiciously at her about that, but she just beamed and settled on the bed to wait for Sam.

"If I kill her will it end this?"

"You can't." She didn't mean to snap at him. They were all tired and the tension in the room strung out between them.

Midir glared at her.

"Your father's decree still binds you."

"That was as a sentence. This is a..." He glanced at Fergus for help with the modern word.

"Pre-emptive strike," Fergus supplied, grateful for once for the reading he'd done on military tactics.

"Yes, exactly. Pre-emptive strike."

"Or simple defense. She attacks, we defend. If she happens to get killed in the battle she started, even the Dagda can't disapprove."

He knew he'd hired Fergus for a reason, and looked back at Keelia, smug.

"You can't kill her."

"Why not?"

Keelia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Because if it was that simple, you would have ended this eons ago and we wouldn't be here having this discussion now."

"I haven't killed her before," he pointed out with careful logic. "It's something new."

"It won't..." She shook her head. "It won't stop anything. Not what she's set in motion. It's too...easy."

"Sometimes things are easy."

"And sometimes they're not." She watched him steadily. "Do you think she crafted something this complex and then just bound it to her life to rest on your uncertain temper?"

He thought about that for a long moment. "She might have gotten careless."

Keelia gave him an exasperated look. "For all we know, she has a backup plan that would trigger something catastrophic should anything happen to her. Far all we know, she's bound us together and if you kill her, you kill me. The simple truth is, we don't know enough and any move we make that drastic, we had better be very sure about."

Fergus nodded his agreement. Midir looked back as the seconds on the clock ticked and then finally sighed and slumped back into his chair.

"Then what are we sure of?"

Neither of them had an answer for him.

There was work to be done, but he wasn't doing well at getting it done. The window kept distracting him, with its view of the forest. If he listened hard enough he could hear her laughter as they raced the horses through it. She wasn't as proficient as Etain had been. The memories might be there, but she'd grown up this time in a city of concrete without much access to horses. He'd let her win, and she'd known it but pretended not to, laughing back at him in triumph.

Fergus stood in the doorway, fidgeting a bit. Midir glanced at him, then tilted his head with an imperious air, cloaking himself in the mantle of the King.

"You have something to report?"

"Her mother took her to Dublin last night to catch the plane back to New York."

His stomach clenched, but he nodded. "I know. Is there anything else?"

"My lord..." Fergus sighed, a frustrated sound. "Midir..."

"Don't." Soft. Smooth. Chilled. Final. It was enough to make Fergus nod and fall silent. "Is there anything else?"

"Most of Fuamnach's supporters seem to have fled. The court is in chaos with it. Husbands. Wives. Parents. Children. The divisions were deeper than we ever thought."

Midir nodded. Taking one last look outside, he took a deep breath and turned from the window.

His voice was firm when he spoke. "This court has been in chaos, divided by civil war for over 3000 years. It's ended now, and it is time it was done." He held out a list of names. "These are people I suspect may still have been on Fuamnach's side. Investigate them. Do it quietly, as I've no doubt they'll be expecting it. Let me know anything you find. Those loyal to us, those we know are loyal without a doubt, I want brought before the throne this afternoon. They've fought for us for too long to not be rewarded. They deserve their due." And Fergus deserved his, though Midir couldn't think what that might be right now. He watched him, standing there attentive. Questions and concern in his eyes but staying silent for now, because he'd asked it of him. "It's time we rebuilt. Turned Bri Leith into what it used to be. Gave my people their home back."

"Without their Queen?" Fergus dared the question.

He didn't even flinch. "Without their Queen. Cailean and Aurelia can share the Queen's duties in court. Cailean needs grooming to take her place as Lady when the time comes for Diarmuid to take the throne, and Aurelia I've no doubt will find herself someone to manage eventually." If he noticed Fergus' flush, he gave no sign of it. "Send them to me when you go, and keep Elysandre away from Aurelia as much as possible. Just because I acknowledge the girl as my daughter, and Keelia is gone is no reason for that harridan to think she's stepping into anyone's shoes. Make that clear to her, and remind her that she does not want me to have to make it clear. I won't be as...diplomatic as you."

Fergus bowed. "My lord."

Midir watched him for a moment. "Would you go after Alisha?" Not that he would deny him Aurelia, if she were his choice, but he wouldn't wish her mother on anyone and the girl herself was a handful.

Fergus blinked, and flushed again, looking discomfited. Apparently he really did prefer blondes. "She has her life in New York, Midir." If they were talking about his love life, he was going to be informal. "I wouldn't fit there, and I wouldn't leave you, and she wouldn't want to be here away from her city and her...Manolo Blahniks?" He tested the word out, then shrugged. "Our worlds, our hopes, our dreams are too far apart for it ever to be more than a summer's fancy."

Midir wasn't so sure, but he nodded. It was selfish, but he couldn't think of losing Fergus without mild panic.

"That's all, then." Fergus bowed one last time and took his silent leave.

It was a new day, and if the ache in his heart screamed out for him to just curl up and fade away, Midir would ignore it. His people deserved better than that, and he had neglected them for far too long.

He didn’t know the significance of the day. Mortal holidays had very little meaning for him. But he’d gone into New York to see about starting to play again and all of the signs and cards and flowers had made enough of an impression for him to ask someone.

He found a card that didn’t say quite what he thought it should, but then nothing written could, and it was as close as he could find and the picture was more beautiful than anything he could have made. Flowers. He wondered if chocolates were appropriate, but then remembered that most of the box had been near going to waste after Valentine’s day until he and Michael and Noah rescued them. She forgot candy easily, it seemed.

Instead he found jewelry with a pearl and an amethyst set together in a spiral of gold. Her birthstone and Noah’s. It seemed appropriate.

When she woke up that morning, he found that what he’d brought in was easily eclipsed. A bouncing four year old landed on their bed, with a card covered in crayon scribbles and something that looked like it might have been a teacup, lumpy and oddly shaped out of clay.

Keelia sat up, pushing her hair back and smiling at the exuberant little boy.

“Is that for me?”

He nodded. “For your day.”

Her breath caught as she reached for them, carefully. “Thank you, Noah. They’re beautiful.” When she looked at the card, Midir saw tears in her eyes before she handed it to him and pulled Noah close in a tight hug that had the little boy squirming fairly quickly.

He read it and smiled, then handed it over to Michael with a slightly misty grin. It was obvious someone had helped Noah write it out, but the words were his. It had started “For Kee” but that had been scribbled out emphatically in green crayon.

Below it instead were the words “For my mama.”

[[ooc: For what I've established for Midir in TM, this prompt would be sort of nonsensical, but slipping back into pure novel canon, it hits him hard and hurts and so, I'm answering this one from there, and not from any point in RP "canon." Thanks.]]

His hands were shaking as he tried to write out his decree. Banishment for the following names. Death for others. It had to be swift. Merciless. Fuamnach might be destroyed, but some of her followers still posed a threat and he wouldn't have Keelia threatened by anyone, ever again. He steadied the shaking, finished the decree and handed it to Fergus.

The view from the window was gray, or so it seemed, as he moved to sit in it, gazing out, chin tucked to his knees. That the sun was warm and there were a plethora of late summer flowers blooming through the fields in a wild profusion of color didn't penetrate his brain.

"You're an idiot."

It was soft. It was succinct.

He didn't look at Fergus. Pointed. "You may go."

"I won't."

( Read more... )

We always have a choice
Or at least I think we do
We can always use our voice
I thought this to be true
We can live in fear
Extend our selves to love
We can fall below
Or lift our selves above
Fear can stop you loving
Love can stop your fear
Fear can stop you loving
But it's not always that clear

She was just a peddler woman in the marketplace. He wouldn't even have taken note of her but for the bright colors she was wearing. The golden colored jewelry in her ears, around her neck, her wrists, her ankles. It was out of place in this dour village with mud walls and offal in the streets. He remembered a time when humans had more care for themselves than this, or perhaps that was just them and the humans only lived in cleaner surroundings because they made sure of that. People walked with their heads down, barely meeting the eyes of strangers. Hard faces. Lined with care and old earlier than he thought they should be. He walked among them sometimes, mourning for the world they'd lost, lamenting their defeat by the Milesians that had led to this. Today was such a day, though he moved invisibly. These people feared magic, hated it with the poison in their heads. He would not have fit in, and he didn't care to don a disguise this time.

The woman crouched there on the side of the street and the colors of her clothing seemed to shimmer in the sun brightening her drab surroundings. She fascinated him and he drew closer to her, looking at the cards she was dealing in strange patterns. She muttered slightly as she looked them over. A tilt of her head as he stood before her, then crouched down. She looked up frowning, eyes staring through him, unable to pierce the Veil around him. He looked back steadily, but she finally shook her head and looked back down at her cards, shuffling them from hand to hand.

She drew one out. A King with a wand beside him. She laid it on the ground.

"The King comes calling from time to time, leading them, stirring them up, pushing, always pushing. Love him, hate him, he is what he is and it will take much to change him. Some say it ought not be done."

Her voice was light, conversational, younger than her face. People stopped and stared as she spoke, then made the sign to ward off evil and moved away from her.

( The journey )

I've never dreamed of what a home looks like in the physical sense. I'm as at home under the stars, dancing among the trees, riding to the Hunt behind my son, as I am in any of our palaces. Home is family. Home is being with the ones you love.

The place...doesn't matter. It is home if those you love are there. For now my home is the Tower, in the Realm. It is a suite of rooms decorated in the greens and golds my Lady loves. It is her, moving through the rooms, and him sprawled nearby. It is the child demanding I turn into a horse like Grumpa Sam. It is Sam nearby to laugh with. Anubis bringing his Mary to tea. That is home.

[locked]

They are my home. My world. And yet, I find myself longing for green hills and cool forests and stone underfoot and milk and honey and warm, fresh bread. I want to hear the music of my people and dance under the stars. I've been going home more often...and even in that I betray myself, don't I? I've been going home.

It is home, in a way the Realm can never be. I'm tied to the land there. It holds me, cradles me. It's in my blood and my blood is in it. My people are woven into the web of magic that surrounds the land and I find myself weaker an I am gone too long. The visits, overseeing Bri Leith, they help, but they can't fix the longing.

But they are more important. And so I stay.

Because home, without them, might still be home, but it would be empty, and it would be cold. And I would rather be away from home with them than anywhere without them.

Muse: Midir
Fandom: Irish Mythology

I'm really very frightened by Midir in a space suit

More pics here.

GIP in honor of the day.