They're up early today.
From my spot here on the porch, I can see them on the dock. They're both stripped to the waist and and their sweaty skin glistens in the early morning sun. Dylan is still space-pale; it's as if his skin resists soaking up too much sun ground side. As if that one thing would tie him to earth.
Tamerlaine is with them, sitting off to the side, watching as the two men spar with their forcelances. It had only been his father and myself around the house for the last few years that having another man around the house is still facinating to him, even though he takes great care not to show it. Breyon lives down river, occupied with his own life now that he's married but he still comes by at least once a week. His relationship with Tam is...interesting. Not exactly brothers but still close enough in age to be companions after a fashion.
Olema, the Orca Pride matriarch, would definitely disapprove of my familiarity with Tyr's son. But from what Tyr tells me, she would disapprove of any kluge who dared touch the genetic reincarnation of Drago Museveni. She didn't come with Tyr when he came back to Midden and I refrained from asking exactly what happened to her.
In the end, it doesn't really matter. Tamerlaine grows like a weed. Tyr teaches him Nietzchean and intergalactic history and culture. I, well, I guess you could say I teach him about living. I am under no illusion that I am humanizing Tam in any way. I just go about my routine: fishing, bartering for goods and supplies. I teach him about the river, how it runs, how it sustains the land and us. He comes with me when I check the snares in the forest and I taught him how to skin and clean all manner of small animals. Tamerlaine is quick, some of which is genetic, the rest of which is the insatiable curiousity that all boys seem to have. I like him.
Tamerlaine likes me but makes sure that I don't know it. Just like Breyon.
I see Tyr has handed his forcelance to Tamerlaine. Dylan is leaning against his, a towel draped around his neck as he watches Tyr instruct his son. Tam is already showing his father's height and stature, although his limbs are long and slimmer, a legacy from his mother, Freya. Speaking of her causes me no pain. Tyr has told me about her and the failed attempt to save her and Tam when the Genites attacked. I can only imagine the choice she made to save her son and not herself.
Dylan takes his place before Tamerlaine and slowly begins to show him the same pattern of feints and blows that he and Tyr had been trading moments before. Tyr waits until they are moving close to speed before walking back towards the house. This is the first time he's left Tam alone with Dylan. That alone shows how much he's willing to open the door towards a change in their relationship.
When Dylan showed up on our doorstep a month ago, it was like a ripple in a shallow pool. There was some adjustment to his presence and then it was smooth. The transition was deceptively simple. He and Tyr are still figuring out just who and what they are to each other. Even now, after a decade apart, the spark is so evident between them. But they dance around each other, careful not to poke at old wounds.
Silly men.
I love looking at Tyr. Even without the bone blades and the magnificent hair, he is still a very beautiful man. When we first met, we were drawn together but only briefly. He left for the stars and I remained. I told him the truth: I wanted to stay on Midden and live out my life in what peace I could. Since the Dragans have abandoned the planet, things are easier and the starports are open to trade. Breyon and I moved from the inlet to this spot and built this new house together, with more rooms that neither of us knew what to do with. Now, the house is full of Tyr, Tamerlaine, Dylan and myself.
As he walks towards me, I touch the heavy silver cuff on my left wrist. A gift from Tyr who is not exactly my husband to me, who is not exactly his wife. I have no use for the traditional Nietzchean armband that would have marked me as his wife among his people. When I refused it, Tyr was at once disturbed and relieved. He made the cuff for me, displaying a skill in metal craft that I didn't know he had. Four cuffs were made. One is still waiting to be claimed.
"Yvaine."
I smile, taking in the sheer perfection of him. "Tyr," I reply, lightly mocking his somewhat grave tone. A quirking of his lips betrays his amusement at my impudence. "It's a beautiful day."
"It is at that." He looks back at Dylan and Tamerlaine, tension in the set of his shoulders.
"Dylan won't hurt Tam, Tyr."
Tyr looked at me and then back towards the dock. "I know he won't."
I don't push and instead approach a different topic: "I think it's high time you and Dylan had a talk. A real one."
"For a human woman, there are times when you are very much like a Nietzchean matriarch." He growls this observation but I hear undercurrents beneath his tone. This is new territory for him, finally having to make a decision about just what kind of family, what kind of pride, we will be.
I come to my feet and place my hand on his chest. "Well, if it helps any, Dylan is welcome, fully welcome, in our home."
Tyr wraps a hand around mine and stares down at me. "And that welcome entails?"
My head comes to rest against his chest and I feel his other arm come around me. I can only open my heart to him and tell him the truth, as I told the truth to Breyon's father when I married him, as I have always told the truth to Breyon and Tam and even Tyr himself. "You're not whole without him," I say softly. "Neither of you has been whole without each other. I have a place within you and so does your son. Now you have to find the place within you that's been waiting for him."
Tyr eases me back to he can look at me, really look at me, tasting the truth in my words. A single finger traces my bottom lip. "I will...consider what you've said."
"You do that," I reply and slap him lightly on the chest. "I need to go get breakfast ready."
"Not today," Tyr replies. "I'll do it. Enjoy your morning." He guided me back to my seat and made to go into the house, only to stop on the threshold. "Lady," he says gravely, sketching a small bow.
"Milord," I answer, echoing our first meeting so long ago.
I turn my eyes back towards the dock where Dylan stands tall and true next to Tyr's son. The river runs before them, before all of us, bringing us to a place where we've never been.
Disclaimer: Tyr Anasazi, Dylan Hunt, Tamerlaine, Breyon, and Yvaine all property of Tribune Entertainment and MBR Productions. All associated situations are my own. Just fangirl noodling. No money being made, etc. etc.