The bubbling stew in the pot wasn't supposed to be that red…at least, Neria was pretty sure it was stew.
"Um…Ma, what's on the fire?" she calls.
"Just a potion I'm experimenting with," her mother yells from the other room, her voice slightly muffled.
"So you want me to leave it alone?"
"Yes, please," the older elf replies, moving back into the kitchen, a large pile of books in her arms. She drops them onto the table.
"What's in the potion? And why on this fire and not the one in the lab?" Neria asks.
"There's blisterwort, thistle, a few leaves of scathecraw…other herbs as well," her mother answers, "As to your second question, your father has commandeered both labs for something that the Queen has asked for…much to my dismay."
"Ah."
There is a low boom from beneath their feet and a few jars rattle on the shelves.
Neria's mother walks over to the staircase. "Something explode?" she calls down the steps.
"It's contained!" her husband yells back. "Just the nightshade reacting with the netch jelly."
"What in Azura's lovely name are you making anyway?"
"Classified!"
"Classified, my ass," she grumbles, turning back to the kitchen.
An hour later and Neria's father emerges from the basement lab, a rounded vial in hand, sealed and stoppered.
The liquid inside is like pure sunlight, glowing brightly within the glass.
"What is that?" Neria asks, perched on a stool beside the counter, leafing through a book on poultices.
"A project, Queen Elisif asked me to see if I could duplicate the effect of one of our allies' weapons in potion form. And," her father brandishes the vial, "Success!"
"Is the lab still intact?" his wife asks dryly.
"Mostly," he says. "An explosion took out one of the spare barrels of dried thistle branches as well as my last crate of creep cluster." He sighs, placing the vial on the counter. "We should probably renew the protection runes down there; they've started to fray again."
"When did you want to do that?" his wife asks, setting aside her potions knife and pushing the diced nirnroot to the edge of her cutting board. "It's pretty draining on both of us."
"Would next Loredas work?"
"Hmmm," his spouse muses, "what about next Fredas instead? We can sleep in the next day."
"Sounds like a plan," he says, grinning and pocketing the vial. "I'll be back. I've got to deliver this and the recipe to the Queen."
Neria squints at the three tall vials of the newly created potion as her mother dumps sand into the now empty pot and begins scrubbing it clean.
"What does this do exactly?" Neria asks.
"Relatively sure it will burn one's opponents if it comes into contact with skin," her mother says.
"Doesn't that make cleaning the pot dangerous?" Neria questions.
Her mother raises her hands, glowing blue with barrier magic, before returning to her work. "Not at all."
The front door thunks open, and Neria's father slips into the room, footsteps near silent.
"Mission accomplished," he declares, moving around the counter to press a kiss to his wife's cheek.
She smiles. "Indeed."
"What have you been working on while I was gone?" he asks, arms curling around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.
"A new potion," she says. "Should cause your enemies some harm."
"You're assuming I don't set them on fire the moment I see them," her husband replies. He muses over something for a moment. "I could enchant the glass to break when thrown…"
"True," his wife says. "Flying glass is dangerous."
"Very," he agrees.
Neria rolls her eyes. "Ma, you're an enabler, I swear." Honestly, her parents are tooth-rotting levels of cutesiness when they plot together.
Her mother laughs.
"Be that as it may," she says. Her husband grins, kissing her cheek again.
"My beautiful, wonderful wife," he hums.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she replies, but she is smiling widely.
Neria sighs and gets up; she has absolutely no desire to be around now that her parents have started with the flattery.
"I'm going to the market," she announces.
"Be back before nightfall," her mother calls as Neria reaches the edge of the kitchen.
"Take Jordis with you, Auri-el knows she could use a break from guarding me," Neria's father adds.
"Yeah, yeah," Neria says, waving a hand. "I'll see you later. Love you."
"Love you too," her parents chorus.
Neria closes the front door behind her a few moments later, Jordis trailing after. And Neria most assuredly did not hear a squeal of laughter from the kitchen as the door shut.
Nope. Nothing at all.
She sighs. Such was her life.
"Come on, Jordis," she calls, "Let's see if there's anything interesting in the market."