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As he does every morning, Kip blinked slowly at the mug of coffee I had just set on the table in front of him. Then, also part of this morning ritual, he turned his bleary-eyed face up toward me, to offer what I am sure he thought was one of my favorite smiles. Really, it just came out as more of a grimace. My heart still warmed at the sight, as it does any time my beloved fanoa turns his attention to me. I smiled back at him, cupping his cheek with my hand and caressing his cheekbone with my thumb. He is always beautiful to me, even now. I wondered, as I often have, what I would have done all those years in the Palace, had I known how deeply my beloved — at the time just my incomparable secretary and the whisper of a dream I would not let myself hear — struggles with mornings. Would I have rearranged our days? The days of the Palace entirely? Would I have used my magic to bolster him, as I had used it to wind protections around him? Had my magic done so anyway — its own wild nature seeing and knowing what I needed even when I did not?
I dallied, but not for long, kissing his forehead before I turned and released him from my attention. Kip does require his coffee before he can do much else with his day. He turned back to his drink, wrapping both hands around the mug and breathing in deeply, appreciatively.
I took the second of the three mugs of coffee I had brought out with me and placed it in front of Pali, sitting across from Kip. Pali, as is so often the case, was the opposite of Kip in nearly every way. She was sitting tall, proud, and alert in her chair. I knew she had already finished her morning exercises, never letting the sharp edge of her skills dull. She smiled at me also: not the slow, warm smile Kip usually gives me (tries to give me in the mornings) but one that’s swift and terse, quick like the flash of her dagger. I think of this as one of my smiles also, as I have not seen one quite like it offered to anyone else. This one had a fondness that reached her eyes; something new that wasn't there in our younger years. I smiled back at her, running my fingers through her hair and down the long braid that lays along her spine, taking the end to flick her nose softly. She huffed, something closer to a laugh than annoyance, and swatted me away as I took my seat and my own coffee; the fondness lingered, though.
We were sitting around a small table I had set up in the corner of our courtyard for just this purpose. I still revel in the fact that I am now able to do things for others, and bringing my partners their morning coffee is something I have insisted on making part of our daily routine.
We all sipped our coffee in silence for a while, and I noticed Pali unsuccessfully trying to catch Kip's eye, her brow furrowing in frustration. The two of them rarely agree on anything, and the only thing they consistently agree on — though there is still a lot of discourse there — is myself. I know they believe themselves to be sneaky, that they are able to keep their schemes hidden from me, but I have long since learned to spot the conspiratorial glance they share when they are planning something. I am sure they believe I have no clue, and I will never tell them otherwise. Those brief moments and little glimpses are too precious to me. A glance at Kip showed me that they were still far from sharing any sort of look this morning. I smiled fondly into my coffee as I took a sip.
After a few more moments, Pali tensed infinitesimally, in the way she does when Kip is truly annoying her. I set my coffee on the armrest and stretched myself out, groaning obnoxiously and watching her roll her eyes as I did. As I relaxed, I slid down in my chair till my head rested on the back of it, letting my legs sprawl out under the table, one leg draping across Kip's lap, and my arms flop over the sides. I returned the mug to my one hand, but I reached the other out to Pali, offering her some comfort in a subtle way I wasn’t sure she would fully recognize. She took my hand, twining our fingers together and resting them in her lap.
I closed my eyes and smiled. I was content. My life was full of love in a way I had never expected possible.
I have Kip: my beloved fanoa, my mirror and match. We spend some nights together, curled up against each other in my nest in my solarium, but not every night. The days we spend together are full of joy and lazy happiness. We still find comfort in old patterns we learned from life in the Palace; many afternoons are still spent with me pacing while Kip sits, quill in hand, taking dictation. I am far happier, these days, to be dictating poetry rather than proclamations, though. (I do not know how I was ever so productive in my poetry without someone taking dictation for me, to be honest.)
Sometimes we go flying, both of us in bird form, or sailing. We make regular trips to Navanoa to spend a night together, wrapped in each other's arms under the great obsidian wave of our island. Sometimes we take longer trips, out to Loaloa or further if I join him as he walks the ring, completing his tanà duties. Sometimes we take his little Tui-tanata and spend an afternoon around the bay, just to feel the ocean under our backs, as we lie side by side, fingers entwined.
Neither of us has been able to give up work entirely, him with his tanà duties and I with my correspondence and investigation with other great wild mages, and I have learned how much I love working side by side, companionably and as equals.
Kip is familiar, comfortable, safe. Kip is my home.
Pali is none of those things.
Our relationship is charged, magnetic as the lodestones I created for the pair of efela we now wear. Same as that first moment I saw her, there is nothing I can do but be drawn to her. I had learned from Kip, from the Wide Sea Islanders in general, that there is more than one way to have a relationship, so when I asked again, I had not asked her to marry me. I had found two perfect stones and magnetized them with lightning conjured by my own magic, then asked Sardeet to teach me to weave a cord as Arzu had taught her. I presented these two unnamed efela to Pali and asked if she would commit to a relationship with me that may not be easily recognized from the outside, but which we would build and define on our own terms. She had smiled slyly at me and agreed to let me tie the efela around her neck, tying mine in place for me in return.
Something in Pali had not exactly softened — nothing about Pali could ever be described as soft — but there was less brittleness, a little more joy; an ease that had crept into her after that. Not all at once, but slowly over time.
Pali had agreed to settle and make a home in Gorjo City, as much as Pali was ever going to make a home anywhere. She had moved into the house and taken up residence in the rooms that had been dedicated to me, as I hadn't really been using them. Kip, as usual, had been right about me. I love my solarium; it is beautiful, and the magic of the house sings to me there, swirling in the glass floats hanging from the ceiling. While it is a tower, it was one I chose and that I am always free to leave — frequently in the form of a bird out the window.
In much the same way that Kip had promised never to cage me, I promised never to contain Pali. She would come and go as she liked, sometimes spending months away pursuing adventure and other things that were important to her. I had thought about going with her sometimes, but a thousand years had been long, longer than the short couple of decades she had experienced, and I find I am tired, more than ready to ease into the comfort of retirement and family.
Jullanar, who had experienced a similar timeline to Pali — one which was constrained and restrictive in a way that seems to have left her longing for adventure — often accompanies Pali. The last time Jullanar returned with Pali to Gorjo City I couldn't help but notice the new look Pali had in her eyes when she looked at our friend. It was not quite the private look I get, but it was similar. I have resolved not to bring it up until Pali does, but I have started to nurture a secret hope for some happiness between the two of them. They both deserve it.
When Pali is home, our days together are filled with small adventures and challenges. We spar, Pali insisting I brush up on my skills and build some muscle back after my years on the throne. We race — her on her carpet, me as a bird — to the highest places we can find and camp out there, spending our evenings sharing a bottle of wine, Pali curled into my side, as we watch the sunset before lying across the campfire from each other, watching the stars and sharing stories of what we did while away from each other. Those are the only nights we spend together, out in the open.
If someone had told my younger self — that adventurous folk hero, renowned not only for his deeds and his poetry, but also for having a propensity for promiscuity — that he would one day retire into a comfortable, stable, stationary life, fully committed to and deeply in love with two people he would never have had sex with… I don't even know what my reaction would have been, to be honest. Some days I find it hard to believe now, and I am living it.
It's not that I don't have lovers. I do. It took a while, but I learned how to be comfortable in the arms of another again. There is not enough between me and the handful of lovers I do have to make it anything more than the casual thing it is.
Except maybe… lately things with Conju have been… more. I could feel the skin of my cheeks heat as I remembered the sight of him laid out before me the night before. I am forever grateful that my skin tone hides my blushes.
There is a deep, mutual love there. It has taken a while to understand it, warped and tinged as it was by the toxicity that tainted everything about my life at the palace. We have been working through it, untangling and smoothing the threads of our affection in much the same way as I had untangled and smoothed the threads of Zunidh's magic after the fall.
I balanced my coffee on the arm rest of my chair again and ran a finger over the two efela hanging around my neck: my efanoa with its simple shell (if not all that common, as it was a gift from the gods and came from a creature long since extinct) resting at the base of my throat; the unnamed efela, its lodestone resting flat against my skin, just below the shell. I fingered the space just below that and wondered if I would be adding a third one soon…
Kip was never going to be anything more than my greatest of friends, and Pali was never going to be anything so domestic as a wife.
But what is my relationship with Conju, what has it always been, if not domestic?
I thought again of him laid out before me, how soft and sensual he could be, but also how much I enjoyed sharing in the organization of our household, something that Conju had previously taken most of the responsibility for. We have begun to find a rhythm between us, easily syncing up as we work together to clean or shop or plan for the needs of our family. I have begun to realize, recently, how deep my love for him really is, how satisfied I am with him as a lover.
How much I want to make promises to him too.
Kip's hand finding it's way to my knee pulled me from my thoughts enough to notice that Pali had released some of the tension from the fingers she had wrapped around mine. I quickly glanced through my lashes to see Kip had finally noticed Pali's attempts. My heart warmed at a knowing look they shared, and I closed my eyes again to give them their privacy.
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Pali tried, again, to catch Kip's eye, but he was still sitting across from her staring zombie-like into his coffee.
Fucking bureaucrat.
Not that Pali would ever say it out loud. She knew it would hurt Fitzroy too much. But when she had promised him that she would try to get to know his fanoa, she had also promised herself that she did not have to completely let go of her little nickname for the man, at least not in the privacy of her own mind.
And anyways, it wasn't really how she felt about him these days. If she was really honest with herself, all (almost all) the animosity between them was gone. Much to her horror, once she had actually given him a chance she had found that she really did quite like the man.
Mostly. When he wasn't infuriating her. Like now.
Today marked two years (according to the current calendar on Zunidh) since she, Jullanar, Masseo and Fitzroy had walked into a small bakery in a small village on Voonra to find her sister Sardeet waiting for them. It also marked two years since they had last celebrated Fitzroy's chosen birthday.
They had not done anything last year. Things had been hectic with the Jubilee and the household moving, the members of the Red Company coming and going, deciding who would be staying and who was just visiting, everyone getting settled in Gorjo City. (And by the gods, the Mdangs that had come and gone. How anyone in that family ever got anything done was beyond her.)
Kip hadn't even known of Fitzroy's chosen birthday! She was sure it would not have passed with so little fanfare if he had, and was equally sure that plans for today's events had started the moment he had learned. They had been secretly planning together for months now and had managed to keep Fitzroy from learning of it, but there were always so many things that could not be done till the day of. Which was today. They needed to get started, and all that he could seem to do was stare stupidly into his coffee.
She watched as he raised it to his lips and took a sip. At least he was doing something.
She closed her eyes, sipping her own coffee, and tried to distract herself from her irritation. They really did still have a bit of time. Conju had agreed to take Fitzroy out for the day so they would be able to make the preparations for his party unencumbered, and Conju hadn't come out yet. She could afford to be a little gracious with Kip.
Once he managed to shake whatever this was that happened to him every morning, he really wasn't that bad. He was actually exactly the right type of person to keep Pali on her toes. He was smart and curious, and forever competitive in a way that challenged her beyond what she had found in anyone else. Verbal spars with him were quick-witted and honed her skills in a way that thrilled her — like the perfect swipe of her sword along its sharpening stone. Kip had even managed to change her mind on occasion, and while she would never tell anyone this, she was a little in awe of him.
That wasn't the only way he challenged her, either. He would never take up a blade to spar with her, not even a practice one, but he was fit from dancing and sailing and always up to the challenge of testing himself against her in other physical competitions. He won far fewer of these — Pali was beyond excellent when it came to physical prowess — but he nevertheless always seemed happy, even in losing.
Another thing she would never tell anyone was that she had tried to emulate that humility the first time she realized he had changed her mind in a debate.
She had not liked him for a long time, but she had not been able to stop herself from respecting him almost immediately.
Fucking bureaucrat.
Needing a new distraction, now, from these thoughts, Pali opened her eyes and glanced over at Kip to assess his progress. Still vapid and bleary-eyed. She sighed inwardly, keeping her frustration contained so as not to let Fitzroy know anything was going on.
Beside her, Fitzroy set his mug on the arm of his chair and stretched his long lanky limbs out from his body, groaning in a way she knew was put on by the glimmer in his eyes. He slid low in his chair, letting his limbs spill out of it. His long legs spread out under the table. She was a petite woman, her own feet tucked neatly under her chair, and so there was plenty of room for Fitzroy to stretch out. She wondered idly what he did with the leg on Kip's side. It was probably in the other man's lap, to be honest. Kip's love was so consuming, and he was always indulging Fitzroy, giving into any request while gazing with his stupid, lovestruck doe eyes. He claimed his fanoa had gone so long without that he could not, now, deny him anything. Pali thought it was a bit much and that Fitzroy did not need any help bolstering his ego.
One of Fitzroy's hands had returned to his mug while the rest of the arm disappeared, draped over the side of his chair. His other hand reached over her own armrest, for her. She took it happily in hers, tangling their fingers together and resting them in her lap. Fitzroy sighed contentedly, let his head rest back against his chair and closed his eyes.
Pali let her thumb trace small designs on the back of Fitzroy's hand, which was warm and comforting in hers. This thing they had was... Pali didn't know what it was really, and that was kind of exactly what Fitzroy had offered her.
She was happy with it though.
Happy to have said yes, finally, but also that this felt like it was much more on her terms, not something that she was afraid would consume her.
It had surprised her, really, to realize that once she stopped looking at Fitzroy as a god — as something other, so powerful she would loose herself to his will and be left devoured and lost — and saw him as the man he was — always had been — he lifted her up, showed her new ways to explore being herself.
She wasn't swept away by the force of him, tumbled around in the power and serendipity that surrounded him. She was lifted up, held steady and propelled in the direction of her choosing: safe and encouraged.
Something about Fitzroy's love, once she chose to let it in, carried her soul in much the same way the carpet Arzu had made for her carried her physical self: steady and reliable.
She had learned so much about herself, about how relationships could look, and what they might look like for her. Her thoughts strayed, as they often did these days, to Jullanar. Jullanar would be arriving today for the celebration, and Pali was excited to see her. They would be traveling together for a while afterwards, maybe finding a small adventure for themselves, though they would first stop at Ragnor Bella so Jullanar could see her kids and Pali could visit with Peregrine.
She smiled to herself, maybe a little softly, but that was something that Jullanar brought out in her. She did not know what a deeper connection between the two of them would look like, but she desperately wanted to explore the possibility. And she thought Jullanar did too. There was something in the way the other woman would look at her: something she hadn't been able to recognize before agreeing to commit to Fitzroy, before seeing the way Kip and Fitzroy looked at each other, the way Fitzroy was starting to look at Conju, and knowing that all these relationships were different but equally valid.
She could build a relationship with Jullanar that was just for them. And she wanted that.
Movement caught her sharp eyes, and when she followed it, she found Kip had finally looked up from his coffee and stirred a little in his chair. This time, when she caught his eyes, he gave her a small nod and a knowing look, his lips curling up at the sides at their shared secret.
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The world around Kip slowly came into focus. First the warmth of the mug in his hands, the strong smell of coffee alerting his mind to the beginnings of this morning ritual, the bitter flavor of it on his tongue when he took his first sip.
He was two-thirds of the way through his coffee by the time he really started to register the world beyond the mug in his hands: the birds calling out and singing their way through their own morning routines; the familiar, gentle, rhythmic sound of the water in the canal splashing softly against their boats and the dock; the feel of the sun as it made its slow climb into the sky, warming the skin of his back and shoulders, heating his thick black hair that he kept long now, much more the style of his people; the gentle breeze that rustled through his hair, pulling at strands and letting some of the heat escape, keeping him pleasantly warm and not overly hot. It always came to him slowly, and he savored every moment of the experience. It was maybe the single largest indulgence he allowed himself in retirement. He loved not needing to rush off to anything, to take his time every morning. And more than anything, he loved the joy it brought to his fanoa, the same joy that shone in Fitzroy's eyes each time he found a new way to be of service to those he loved.
As the world settled in around him, he also noticed a familiar weight in his lap. Fitzroy was always finding ways to touch him (Kip couldn't be upset about it, he often sought out touch with his fanoa in return), and today it was in the form of one long leg draped carelessly over one of his knees, calf and foot hanging between Kip's own legs. He smiled to himself and removed one hand from his mug to rest it on Fitzroy's knee, gently rubbing small circles on the skin exposed by the way Fitzroy's sarong draped equally carelessly off the outstretched leg.
Fitzroy released a contented sigh and caressed Kip's ankle with the side of his foot in return.
He was nearly ready to admit to himself he was content and could stay here all day when Pali managed to catch his eye and give him a meaningful look. It was a look she rarely gave him, but one he treasured, knowing that it meant the two of them had been able to do what Fitzroy had asked of them, had hoped they would be able to do: they had become friends. It was also a look that took only a second to remind him of why he could not stay here, content, like this all day.
Today was Fitzroy's birthday.
He glanced quickly over at Fitzroy, who was clearly not paying them any attention, fully reclined back in his chair, eyes closed, an easy smile spread across his face in response to whatever thoughts were going on in his head. His limbs were spilling out of his chair in every direction possible, and the sun was shining on the bare skin of his face, arms and chest, glinting off the two efela he wore. (Kip could not help the way his heart warmed, as it always did, at seeing them there — which was often, as Fitzroy didn't seem to own a single article of clothing that covered them. It still made him breathless to see that perfect shell marking Fitzroy as his fanoa, but he couldn't deny that the second efela warmed him in equal measure. It had not been entirely easy, after they had declared themselves fanoa, watching Pali and Fitzroy circle one another with discomfort. He was grateful that they had found a way back to each other, mostly because it made Fitzroy so happy to claim Pali — and be claimed in return — as his love beyond definition. He had been overjoyed when Fitzroy had asked him what kind of efela he should offer Pali, and pleased with his decision to leave it unnamed.)
At the sight of his fanoa's disinterest he allowed his excitement to fill him fully, coming through his expression as a wide smile, and nodded back to her.
This would be his first time celebrating Fitzroy's chosen birthday, and he wanted it to be perfect. It was going to be a very large affair. The members of the Red Company who had not chosen to make homes in Gorjo City would be visiting, along with Basil, Sara, and Clio. Raphael had said he would do what he could to make it, and of course there were more than enough family to invite.
Enya had promised to cater. Vinyë and some of her friends were coming, intending to play for much of the evening (though he was sure Fitzroy would spend a large part of his time there with them, harp in hand). Toucan, Ghilly, Bertie and Cora, who had all accepted Fitzroy easily and immediately, were also coming.
There were so many people coming that they had needed to borrow furniture from various family members to accommodate them all. Rhodin, Ludvic and Masseo would be spending their day gathering the furniture, and Conju had had the forethought to plan a route for them so that he could easily keep Fitzroy away. He would be spending the day distracting Fitzroy with what he called 'some deeply needed quality time between the two of them’. (Kip had been watching a fondness grow between the two men as the snarls left by their time at the palace slowly unfurled. He also couldn't help but notice that Fitzroy had been seeing his various lovers less and less and spending more of his nights in Conju's room, and he wondered if Fitzroy would soon be adding a third efela to the two he already had hanging from his neck.)
Kip would be staying at home to decorate with Pali and Sardeet.
Suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the sheer amount of work that still needed to be done, he wanted to get started on it as soon as possible. The way Pali was looking at him told him she felt the same way.
Their plan was to wait for Conju to collect Fitzroy, though, and Conju had not yet joined them. He glanced back at the house, and Pali gave him an understanding nod and took another sip of her coffee.
He was always still a little starstruck when he worked with Pali in any way; it was commonplace now, but she would always hold a place in his heart as a childhood hero, and he could not quite let that go. It wasn't just when they worked together to plan something for Fitzroy. Pali would pull him aside for debates frequently — as well as being easily pulled aside, her eyes gleaming with challenge, whenever Kip felt the itch himself — and he loved those verbal spars, as she called them. They reminded him of being in a meeting of the Council of Princes, which surprised him. He had not thought he would miss any part of living in the Palace once Fitzroy was no longer there, but after the first time Pali really dug in and challenged him intellectually, he was reminded of parts of the work he had enjoyed. The added benefit was that afternoons spent hurling words and arguments at Pali never left him drained with the once too-familiar headache above the waterline. They were on equal enough footing that he felt energized, accomplished, and often like he had learned something.
He was grateful, too, for the physical challenges of fortitude they often came up with. He usually lost, and Fitzroy had been worried, early on, that there was animosity there, but Kip had reassured him that he enjoyed them. They reminded him of the freedom to be playful that he had not allowed himself to indulge in for so much of his life.
The sound of the back door to the house opening had both him and Pali turning their heads expectantly and smiling at the sight of Conju carrying his own coffee and walking across the courtyard towards them. Conju was much more done up than the rest of them, with Kip and Fitzroy sporting simple sarongs and Pali in her usual robes. The man had relaxed from his days in the public eye at court, but not so low as to be near the norm for Gorjo City. He had light coloring around his eyes, accentuating their color, and was dressed in a set of tunic and trews made from billowy silks, though cut in the Vangavayen style.
"Weren't able to keep yourself confined to your own chair?" Conju asked, his voice laced with tenderness and affection, as he reached out to caress Fitzroy from the corner of his mouth, along his cheek, and down his jaw with a thumb.
"Not when there are so many lovely options for touch available," Fitzroy replied, smiling up at Conju and leaning into the touch without opening his eyes.
Conju leaned in and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Fitzroy's mouth before walking around the table to his own chair.
"You'll have to live without it from this end of the table, because if you put your dirty foot on my silks, we will have words," Conju said as he sat.
Kip smiled to himself as Fitzroy chuckled fondly.