Stranger in a strange land {Closed}

[Tadhg]

He trails long fingers fondly over a cascade of orchids that sweep down the arched door to greet his passing. It is not as bad as he expected. Till now he has purposefully avoided the castle, having spent his nights in the surrounding woods and fields, knowing them within a week as well as any creature born here. He prefers his bed made of moss and root with ceilings of nothing but stars and he has been hesitant to make his presence known at the Court in fear of marble walls. Structures of any sort have a tendency to induce a claustrophobia in him and it is his age that made him assume the Red Queen's home would be no different.

It is all made from magic and therefore lacks the dirty, wild aura that let's Tadhg know it's completely genuine. Still, he finds his initial respect for the monarch growing as he moves further in from the side door, each new corner greeting him warmly with a flowery face. The decorum is tasteful (if not a tad ornate for his preference) and he feels some of his trepidation slip like a coat from his broad shoulders. Long has it been since he has graced the halls of any court. He has lived the life of both royal and servant, of god and priest. He has loved those beneath him and worshiped those above him. He has even traveled in the circles of this Queen before and though he remembers her (he remembers all the ghosts who have flitted in and out of his life), he highly doubts it is reciprocated. It was so long ago...

A pixie or two is quick to zoom forward with a rather desperate desire to serve, but he waves them away with a gentle hand. Tadhg is unaccustomed at being waited upon and he watches the tiny glittering figures depart with a half frown. He must remember to speak to the heads of staff before he leaves and make some arrangement to be skipped when the servants make their rounds. He will forever be uncomfortable in this place if they continue to slave over him.

Footfall from behind his left shoulder draws his attention and instinct has him freezing, hands clasped behind his back, to try to identify the newcomer through sound and smell before he turns his head to show grey-green eyes.

[Queen Annette]

Moving with the grace of a practiced dancer Annette appeared to float down the hallway, the crimson cowl wafting behind her with each light step. There is barely any pace to Annette’s progression towards Tadhg, but somehow her footfalls closed the gap between them relatively quickly. Annette always moved with unearthly grace with each movement seemingly intricately planned, as if Annette always meant to communicate something with the way she moved. Whether it was anger, power or seduction, Annette did use body language to get her point across quite a bit but that was not to say she was a woman of few words. Those who knew Annette knew that the queen was feisty but in a subtle way, she would speak but her words would never be full of information. To find her true intent, one needed to look at the entire picture, not just the lovely face.

As it was, the queen now moved not to seduce or demonstrate power but to welcome a sidhe she had never seen before. He was a rugged man, brawny and earthen. She sized him up; he was taller than her even in the shoes she wore that give her a two inch height boost. He also appeared strong with broad shoulders and size that was not merely the product of good genetics; he toiled in physical labor of some type. Battle perhaps? Was he a warrior, she wondered. The idea that he was a warrior caused her to smile, her silken ruby lips parting to reveal the stained white ivories beneath. The Queen needed warriors and advisors; her court was more talent barren than she had ever witnessed. Perhaps the unification with the pixie kingdom was finally catching up to them.

She curtsied slightly, the tightness of her dress not allowing her to fully bow. As with most things Annette wore, it lacked modesty. Yet when the queen spoke the voice that spilled forth was very feminine but not what one would expect from a woman who appeared to be a living paradigm of beauty, a ruby dipped china doll. The power her words exuded were undeniable even as she offered a simple introductory phrase, ”Greetings sidhe.”

[Tadhg]

He takes his time in turning to face her. When one has lived as long as Tadhg, time is nothing and something to be squandered if at all possible. But when she does fill his vision, he can't stop the slow smile from cracking across his sun-browned face. Tadhg has the smile of a thousand emperors and a thousand fathers - quiet and inviting, it is soothing and pleasant and always tinged with nostalgia. It is a smile that lifts decades from his stubbled profile. It is not the first choice of weapon in his arsenal like so many men who deem themselves charming and therefore is nothing but genuine. No, his charm lies in his solid strength and the stormy depths of his eyes. "Greetings, Highness," he counters softly, dipping his head a fraction in respect.

He extends a palm, crossing only half the distance between them and watches to see if she will take the cue to cross the rest. It is an older custom, for gentlemen to lay lips on the pale hand of their queen, not normally used due to the innate manner of being close enough to do harm to the lady if the attacker is both sneaky and devious. To ask for the Queen's hand is to ask for a small favor of trust and it is the best way for Tadhg to show that stranger as he is, he bears no ill intentions toward Annette.

"It has been many years since last I laid eyes on you. You were older," he adds with humor alighting his gaze. He runs it meticulously over her perfect face, noting the difference not in color or age, but the secrets that lay beneath the skin. And the aura of power. In his memory he sees a much smaller woman, but she still burns with the fire of a phoenix and captures with the smolder of a temptress. This woman is lithe and ethereal in grace and moves like wind-caught silk in motions meant only for art. Muses, even to the rather barbaric Celts he to this day considers 'his people', were the epitome of beauty and the unobtainable. He watches her now with cocked head and finds this much to be unchanged. But there are different stories in her eyes, and there is a slight twinge in his breast at realizing the muse from his memory is perhaps now only that - a memory.

"And the lady I recall could dance. Oh, how she could dance. It was a rare gift to be able to make Scottish kings cry," Tadhg grins, his light laughter felt more then heard. The heavily accented brogue is more pronounced when he speaks of Scotland and a fondness creeps into his deep voice that is unmistakable.

"Do you still dance, lady?" For reasons he can't quite explain, he wants her to say yes. But he figures the answer will be no.

[Queen Annette]

So he knew her. His words brought a charmed smile to her face and had the queen been even the slightest bit modest she would have blushed. Her eye lashes fluttered and she shook her head still smiling, the tone of her voice almost like laughter, a reflection of the young muse that was seemingly but gone from Annette’s persona. Perhaps it would stir a bit of nostalgia in Tadhg, however brief that nostalgia may be. ”Time changes us all, my lord.” She added a slight nod, her hand rising to glide along the rough oaken wall as she observed him.

It was a correct assumption on his part in believing that Annette would not remember him for she truly did not. The Queen of the Seelie had run in many circles, politicians, artists, warriors and even courtesans were not excluded from the groups she found friends and kin within. Yet it was because of this Annette rarely found faces that she recognized from the past, especially from her days as a muse…even her days as a young sidhe were a blur. Most of the memoirs that stained themselves in her mind were from the Goblin War and the days after, memories that were stained the color red, the color of blood.

But his words are continually charming, a reminder of her younger days. Unlike most, the queen did not regret the past. Everything she had done had served its purpose. As she had stated on many occasions, just because she would never choose to go back to the life of a muse did not mean she regretted her past. As Tadhg had said, it was a rare ability to make the Scottish kings cry and she had such abilities. She delighted in the idea that her mere presence had inspired paintings that were a thousand years old and still hung in modern museums, that her voice had given lyrists the ability to compose songs that were still heard today, played on guitars and recorders. Such warm memories filled her and her gaze settled on the man who had invoked them.

”Alas, the dance I dance now is not the one you speak of. I move to the hymn of clashing steel and gasping breathes, not melody and music.” Though her words were gloomy her tone was not. Still, she showed no regret. She was the Fae of Reticent Fury, the greatest warrior in Alanor. There was no shame or sadness in such a title.

”Who are you stranger, for I cannot allow the composer of such lovely words to go unnamed.” Annette studied him without any look of nostalgia or fondness on her face, only interest.

[Tadhg]

"It is a different world then it used to be," he agrees with a distant look and trying not to let old wars and truths cloud the sharp green-grey of his gaze too obviously. Tadhg is an incarnate of the old ways and the regret of dead civilization. He is both survival and sorrow; he holds the ability to withstand time without outward change, to evolve and exist without complication and never is there the false piety of newborn redemptors. Tadhg holds the secrets, both bittersweet and fierce, of the world in his eyes.

This leaves him unable to relate to a good portion of the surrounding population. They dub him too stoic, too unreadable. He's a wild man, they say. Too long in the company of the forest and it's creatures. He's nothing but a relic of the past, unable to come to grips with the present and lacking all relatability. Tadhg doesn't mind. He listens to them talk, amused by their judgement and remains as steadfast and resilient as ever.

He watches the Red Queen closely and concludes that perhaps it is a similiar quality she shares with him, this adaptability. But there is a fire in her, shocking and deadly that he does not have. It is in his ability to ignore insubordination, to pass over disrespect. From the minutes within her presence, Tadhg is aware that this woman does not. And while he would expect this from any monarch, there is a bloodthirst lying beneath her eyes that for some reason saddens him. "I am rather sorry to hear that, for I much admired yer old style of art. But I have no doubt you are just as graceful in the new one," he says with forgiving smile, his voice as smooth as the coming of night.

She demands his name and it is with pursed lips he considers how to answer. Annette is known for her favor of elaborate court customs, something Tadhg deems unnecessary. Still, he harbors no outright wish to displease the fairy queen and stalls a moment longer by pushing a thick swatch of salt and peppered hair from his face. He hand involuntarily reaches up to graze the patch of orchids once again, finding comfort in the silky feel of the waxy leaves. He is beginning to notice now how close the foilage-decked walls are and inwardly fidgets.

"They call me Tadhg nowadays," he responds at last, head cocked in a motion very similar to a bird considering it's next course of action. "Seeker of the Seelie court, if that is yer wish,"he adds to placate her desire for formalities.

"But I admit I am no' a man who will add to the spectacle of yer halls. I wonder, lady, if you'd permit me to hunt in the forests surrounding yer castle and get to know them better. I would serve much better as a ranger then a dance partner."

[Queen Annette]

Almost immediately she recognized his disappointment, but she made no note of it. Tadhg was correct in his assumption that they were both alike in their adaptability. Yet where Tadhg had become an embodiment of the old ways, Annette had become a hybrid of ideas both old and new, Alanor and the world before the creation of such a place. Her bloody ways were a thing of this realm, Alanor, it had shaped her into a warrior because it had placed magical creatures in direction competition with one another for power. Before Alanor these faerie had been gods and goddesses, creatures of whim and lore that did as they pleased, unchecked and unimpeded by any other. There had been enough magic and power to spread as widely as they liked but with the passing of time that magic had faded and creatures were forced to fight if they wanted power.

Annette had grown into the fiercest being but still retained some memories of old. She was a governess above all else and she commanded respect as the old ways demanded one treat a monarch. Lately, she had found some faerie were less inclined to give her the respect she so rightfully deserved and because of it had found she needed to evolve into an even more ferocious creature than she had been. The Red Queen was undergoing yet another metamorphosis, and while she was currently tied to Tadhg by their love of the old world and its customs, it remained to be seen whether she would retain those qualities.

More matter what the case, Tadhg had caught her attention in a way no man had in years. She stepped closer to him, well aware that if she commanded it he would go to her bed. Yet Annette had no interests in such things as her beauty and power had always afforded her many consorts. He was handsome and rugged, a natural born power built into his features, and though she noticed it, that was not why she was drawn to him.

She nods at his introduction and allows him to continue. Annette only found herself disappointed that he didn’t wish to join the ranks of her high court. Nonetheless, the queen nodded a small frown on her face. ”It would please me very much if you’d consider yourself a Seeker of this court. But you will find you will not be seeking acceptance for long. Regardless, these lands are yours to venture. Yet I would hope you choose to visit my castle often.” Her frown turned into a small smile, ”For it has been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the company of another who…remembered the old days.”

She lifted a hand to the branches above them and ran it across them. She looked into the trees and gave a flit of laughter, ”What did they call you before they called you Tadhg? For I never held a true name until I came here.”

[Tadhg]

He passes her a grateful smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He cannot help but be thankful she does not push the issue of his hesitation to play courtier, nor try too hard to seduce him. He is not prepared to offer himself in either fashion and feels a small twinge of relief that the Seelie monarch is more magnanimous then the rumors let on. Tadhg normally pays little heed to gossip, but he finds the queen much more amiable then originally perceived, and his body looses some of it's tension the longer he stays in her presence.

"I would come often, Lady. I much prefer the company of a mature, level-headed woman then the frantic running of the younger people. They worry so about how they spend their time, do they no'?" He chuckles at this, finding it a joke. After the first few millennia time loses all but it's name and Tadhg can no longer remember being young enough to worry about it. While he strives not to develop and elitist attitude towards the youth of his race, he finds it hard to relate to their dreams, their fears. Another reason why perhaps he is happy to have found in Annette a companion with a similar mind set on the subject. Long has it been since he'd had another to simply converse with and be himself.

He offers the Queen his arm, waiting for her to except his invitation as escort before starting a slow pace along the edges of the room, slowly making his way toward the balcony that lies a little ways ahead. He takes time to relish a leisurely pace, noting how Annette's laugh makes the flowers tip their faces in her direction in adoration. "There were many names, none of which were mine by birthright," he eventually answers, his browned skin and earthy ranger wear a stark contract to the Queen's red. "Cernunnos, Lelantos,Orome, Herne, Emrys- all tied to myths that were exaggerated by mankind, o' course."

Suddenly his expression slips into something both pained and tender and his voice is softer then normal when he speak again. "Tadhg was chosen for me by... someone very dear. It is who I choose to be now." Then as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability on his rugged face is gone, replaced by the same distant politeness it always holds.

"So what does a queen do at such wee small hours of the mornin'?" he asks teasingly, obviously eager to change the subject to a lighter fare. "What's to be done when the kingdom is asleep and political ambitions wait for the light?"

[Queen Annette]

Yes, standing next to one another Tadhg and Annette were a steep contrast. Yet the two also offered a unique glimpse into the dual nature of the faerie. Annette was pure in her beauty, her appearance colored with magic and wardrobe pristine and elaborate. While Tadhg was an image of nature, a magical being that looked less like a golden god but more like the woodland creatures many identified the faerie with. He was the woodsman and she was the muse, creatures opposite in nature but equal in importance. As she took his arm she offered him a curtsy and the flash of a smile. Even with their arms interlocked the two looked more like old friends than lovers.

Her strides were long and lissome, the pace you would expect of a queen who had been schooled the art of grace. Yet Annette had never been coached in her elegance, for she had learned it on her own long ago. Having been born a muse she had been given the gift through blood. It had been the reason Tadhg remembered her dance, the reason kings had wept at the sight of her and a source of the inspiration she instilled in those she blessed. And perhaps it had also been the reason she had excelled so greatly in battle or the reason few had trouble accepting her as their queen when she took the crown.

They reach the balcony and Annette stares out over her sleeping kingdom. She knows all too well that the faerie here rarely sleep. They might return to their chambers but many times it is to speak of things they’d rather their queen not know they speak of. She never envied King Cel and his powers to see such things, though. She imagined the power to see all who conspired against you would eventually drive you mad.

Her gaze shifts to Annette, her eyes holding no indication of the thoughts she harbored being anything less than happy. But if Tadhg knew anything about ruling a kingdom then he would know that true happiness founds its place in a monarch’s many emotions. ”I live.” She said thoughtfully and with a smile, ”It is my time to forget that I am the ruler of this land and just to enjoy it. Though many believe it is a façade I put up, the Seelie Court is a truly beautiful place.” She rarely spoke of her true feelings, maintaining a political stance in the public eye. Tadhg should feel some pride being privy to such information.

Despite the darkness she could see the glow of the dormitories amongst the trees when she looked back, "Would you agree, lord?

[Tadhg]

He closely watches her profile in the back lit balcony light and is all too aware this is a chance moment, to witness a brief moment of honesty from one whose position sees emotion as an occupational hazard. But that part of him she no doubts sees as soft, the part that has loved humans and their free, uninhibited passion for so long smiles at being privy to a piece of Annette's privacy. And he thinks her more beautiful in this sliver of vulnerability then he's yet to see before. Or most likely will after.

"Aye." It's a husky, almost inaudible whisper of agreement, but the double intent in it is crystal clear.

END


ooc - I thought it would be a good place to end this cause 1) I'm stumped on how to continue it and still do it justice and 2) it's an introductory thread and Tadhg's to the point where he needs to speak to Annette beyond introductions :/