Context: The Aldmeri Dominion has won the war, crowned Ayrenn as Empress, and appointed a Dominion-loyal High Chancellor to act in Ayrenn's stead when she isn't physically present in the Imperial City.
"Ayrenn–"
"Sielaire," Ayrenn cuts in, reflecting her partner's exasperation. "Did I not tell you that I wanted a vacation when we returned home?"
"Yes, but not like that."
"Like what, Sie? Free and easy?"
"Exposed and risky. No." Sielaire raises her hands in a rare request for Ayrenn to be quiet, so that she can speak. "Ayrenn, you can have a vacation, yes. But with your guards, not alone."
"You know very well that I can take care of myself," Ayrenn retorts, crossing her arms and frowning back at Sielaire, from where she stands behind her desk. "I'm not some soft, delicate queen who can't protect herself, Sielaire."
"But you are still the queen–, no. You are the Empress of Tamriel, now. We cannot afford to make light of your safety."
"That's right, and we're not," Ayrenn replies with more nonchalance than Sielaire deems appropriate for their current discussion. "That's why I'm bringing you along. A one-woman army should be enough to ensure my safety, no?"
Sielaire bites back a growl, resting her head in one hand as she fights down her growing impatience. "Your Majesty," she intones, and Ayrenn rolls her eyes at Sielaire's newfound tactic to remind the Empress of her station – usually in discussions regarding her safety, such as this. "I do not deny our skill in combat, but I must remind you that as Empress–"
"Sielaire, spare me the lecture," Ayrenn cuts her off again. "It's final: I will either travel with your company or go alone, leaving you – the Empress Consort, High Kinlady Sielaire – to deal with the Thalmor and the Elder Council by yourself. It's your choice."
She is left staring at the Empress with mouth agape, arguments forgotten in her stunned silence following Ayrenn's threat of throwing her to those thrice-damned wolves. Sielaire looks back into blue eyes bearing the confident glint of victory, and knows that she has lost the argument.
How did she ever get herself into this predicament, Sielaire wonders as she walks along the paved road, acting as the sole protector for the Empress strolling beside her at complete ease. Her hand comes to a rest on the hilt of her sword, wary eyes tracking a group of Bosmer workers passing by them, until Ayrenn catches her gaze. The slight crease between Ayrenn's brows and the curve of her lips betray her amusement, and Sielaire sighs quietly at the sight.
Ah, yes. She fell in love, that's how.
"Relax, dear," Ayrenn murmurs, kneading at the tense muscles of her back. "Or you'll break that rigid spine of yours."
Sielaire's fingers flex around the sword hilt once, before letting go. She scans the woods around them – with the Bosmer workers gone, they are the only ones left walking up the path leading into town. It's relatively safe, but it would be careless to assume there is no danger. Wildlife can–
"Sie."
She heaves an audible sigh this time, tearing her eyes away from the woods to look at Ayrenn. "I can't relax," Sielaire mutters.
Though they have adopted the guise of common travelers to blend in, she still feels on edge and overexposed; Sielaire's lightweight leathers are a poor substitute for the sturdy protection of her pauldrons and bracers, and the only item she has retained from her usual ensemble is the adamantium blade hanging from her belt. By all standards, she is ill-equipped to serve as the Empress's only bodyguard – and it doesn't help that her charge is even less protected.
Ayrenn has opted for cloth instead of leathers, wearing a shirt and trousers beneath a dark, well-cut coat that falls to her thighs. She carries no weapons, trusting in her own magic to keep her safe in times of danger. Her chosen persona is that of a noble – complemented with their wedding band on her finger, a ruby pendant, and their most important protection on this trip: an enchanted earring.
They share a single pair, wearing one each. Its illusory enchantment disguises them by altering their appearances; for Ayrenn, it turns her pale blonde hair black as night, her blue irises now a dark, earthy shade. Sielaire's earring lightens her auburn hair to a golden hue akin to wheat, and changes her verdant eyes into a steely grey – everything she'd wanted to look like in the past, just to stop the false whispers of mixed blood flowing through her veins. Now though, she feels so…unnatural with the pale colours.
"Darling, think about it," Ayrenn says, drawing her attention back. "No one goes around looking for the Empress in their midst, do they? Much less suspect anyone of being me in disguise. Unless, of course, someone has followed us from the palace, which," she adds quickly when Sielaire opens her mouth. "You and Raz have ensured is not the case. So please, do me a favour, and relax."
Sielaire just stares as Ayrenn massages her nape with a sweet smile. When her partner is obviously unmoved, Ayrenn moves her hand down and hooks it around Sielaire's elbow. "See? We're just a regular couple on the road together, aren't we?"
Ayrenn leans in to kiss her cheek, and Sielaire can't help but soften under her partner's fond gaze. Such a simple display of affection in public has always been a luxury they can rarely afford, and Sielaire sometimes forgets that romance doesn't take place exclusively behind closed doors. She feels a twinge of regret at the thought. Suddenly, the prospect of such freedom seems…all the more enticing.
Tugging Ayrenn close, Sielaire presses her lips to her partner's temple, wearing a small smile to match Ayrenn's grin.
Perhaps having some time to themselves isn't such a bad idea, after all.
To ease Sielaire's nerves at the prospect of traveling alone, Ayrenn has suggested that they take a jaunt to this town near Alinor, just to prove they'd face little trouble while incognito; and if something does happen, the capital city is close enough for them to beat a hasty retreat, before Ayrenn comes to any harm. Even so, Sielaire has made their spies comb the town for any unsavoury elements before they made the trip here, just to be safe.
And even then, it takes Sielaire a while to let her guard down after passing the gates and mingling with the early afternoon crowd in the market. It is nearly as busy as the one in Alinor, due to cheaper rates at the inn, which attracts more travelers to town. Though this helps the two of them blend in easily, it also means the presence of more rowdy and suspect characters. So Sielaire stays alert and sticks close to Ayrenn, keeping an arm circled around her waist as they meander down the streets.
The only time Sielaire gets distracted, is when she spots a performing troupe in the town square. Her interest is not in the acrobats' incredible feats, but the old friends she spots among the performers – Fighters Guild members with whom she had fought and bled and caroused together, all those years ago. She smiles to herself, watching them somersault off a stack of heavy crates, leap through rings of fire, and put on lightning-quick combat demonstrations that hold their admirers in open-mouthed awe. Even after all these years, they still haven't stopped volunteering with this troupe whenever it stops by, using it as method for recruiting new guild members. Obviously the guild master's skepticism has done nothing to douse their enthusiasm, nor their penchant for showing off.
Sielaire turns to her right, lips parting to speak, but freezes when she comes face-to-face with a confused Khajiit instead of her companion. The beats of her heart skyrocket as she scans her immediate surroundings, unable to find Ayrenn's face in the crowd around her. She shoulders her way through the audience and breaks free, panic rising by the minute as she strides from stall to stall, searching but not finding the one she seeks.
When she starts to turn down a street leading away from the market, a sudden grasp on her arm forces her to stop. She grips the hilt of her sword immediately, spinning around to find–
"Sie," Ayrenn says, brown eyes flickering to the hand on her sword. "Are you alright?" She touches Sielaire's cheek, peering at her partner in concern as she strokes faux-blonde hair; it dawns on Sielaire that Ayrenn thinks she is having a panic attack – sensory overload isn't an uncommon occurrence for her, since the war.
"I'm fine," Sielaire breathes, pulling Ayrenn into a one-armed hug. "I just thought I'd lost you."
Ayrenn laughs gently. "The only way you'll lose me, is if you want to, darling."
"I never want to."
"I know," she croons, before taking Sie's hand and tugging her to the side of the road, allowing a cart to pass by. "Here, try this." Ayrenn raises her hand, in which sits a small collection of sweets on a banana leaf. She picks up a dark cube of what looks like chocolate, dusted generously in cocoa powder, and delivers it into Sielaire's mouth.
Grey eyes widen as the smooth, creamy richness of the chocolate melts over her tongue, and Sielaire lets out a low groan of satisfaction.
Ayrenn smiles, wiping away the powder on her lips with a thumb. "Good, isn't it?" At her partner's nod, she leans in with an impish gleam in her eye. "Not as good as me, I hope."
Sielaire nearly chokes on the chocolate.
The day passes without incident, and mostly with Ayrenn keeping her hand linked with Sielaire's, as a reassurance that she won't wander off and send her partner into another bout of panic. They return to the palace at sundown, settling last-minute issues that have cropped up in their short absence, before curling up in bed for a good night's rest. At dawn, they leave the luxurious comfort of the palace behind, riding away from the capital city on horseback to begin their travels across Tamriel.
Their first destinations are within the southern regions of Summerset; they will head down from Alinor towards Sunhold, then turn east to the region of Dusk, before riding up north towards Shimmerene – where Sielaire's family lives. It is an important stop in their itinerary, and one of the reasons why Ayrenn wanted this vacation. Despite their private wedding years ago, Sielaire still hasn't written to her family about the affair, planning to leave it until after her coronation, when her union with the Empress will be made public. Ayrenn has insisted on seeking her parents' blessing for their union, in spite of Sielaire's protests that the Empress of all people doesn't need their blessing to do anything.
In truth, Sielaire isn't keen on explaining to her parents why they were kept in the dark about their daughter's marriage. And she doubts that any explanation will serve to stem her mother's endless tide of lectures anyway, so she decides to stop worrying about it needlessly, focusing instead on the present – and more importantly, Ayrenn.
Sielaire can never truly relax while on the road with her Queen, despite Ayrenn's constant reminders for her to unwind. It is too ingrained in her, the need to keep her partner safe, to be alert for anything that may bring her harm. But that doesn't mean Sielaire is unable to appreciate the serenity of their walks by the beach, the intimacy of holding Ayrenn in her arms as they ride the same horse under a starlit sky, the unbridled joy in Ayrenn's laughter as they chase each other through the forest, and the unhurried softness of her kisses, slow and confident in the promise of a lifetime together.
Just what has she ever done to deserve the love of one so beautiful, Sielaire wonders.
"You're smiling to yourself again."
Sielaire blinks as she receives a peck on the lips, and glimpses Ayrenn's impish smirk, before her partner dives below the water's surface and swims away. She must have fallen into another bout of reverie, long enough for Ayrenn to sneak up on her. Huffing under her breath, Sielaire swims towards the side of the spring pool, and finds a jut of rock wide enough to lounge on, the clear water reaching up to cover her chest nicely. She watches Ayrenn swim laps around the pool, sometimes going close enough to bathe under the waterfall, before ducking away again with an agile twist of her body.
Closing her eyes, Sielaire loosens the tense muscles in her shoulders and leans back against the rock, a contented sigh passing her lips. She clears her mind and listens – to the constant stream of water, the occasional splashes from Ayrenn, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the song of birds and crickets in the distance. The calmness of the night lulls Sielaire into a peaceful, meditative state, with the cool embrace of water about her–
A nearby splash snatches her attention, and Sielaire jerks her head up, getting a brief glimpse of pale blonde hair before her eyelids flutter shut at the soft press of lips against hers. She gazes up at crystal blue eyes when they part, arms circling around her wife's bare body as Ayrenn sits in her lap.
"This might be the first time I've seen you so laidback since we left the palace," Ayrenn says.
"I wonder why."
Ayrenn chuckles, playing with the loose strands of red hair framing her face. "Better enjoy this while it lasts. You won't get this much time to yourself once you sit in the throne beside me."
She breathes a drawn-out sigh. Though Sielaire's status as consort hasn't been made official yet, she's had the…honour of accompanying Ayrenn to a number of meetings with the Thalmor and Council. To put it simply, Sielaire would much rather fight another war than face the politicians again. On the battlefield, at least, she knows clearly who the enemy is, and doesn't have to worry about who is hiding a knife behind their smile. Sielaire takes some comfort in knowing that military affairs will be her primary domain, but she is resolved not to let Ayrenn tackle other matters of state all by her lonesome.
"The price I pay for love," Sielaire murmurs.
"It is not too high, I hope?"
"No." Sielaire smiles gently, stroking the small of her back. "To be with you, no price is too high."
Ayrenn clicks her tongue. "Such honeyed words. It's a wonder you were even available when we first met."
"Maybe I was waiting for you."
"Maybe you're the reason I came back." Ayrenn kisses her – soft, then deep, and breathtaking when her tongue slips in, grazing the back of Sielaire's teeth, and hooks on her upper lip before pulling away. The brief delve leaves Sielaire wanting more, and she wears a knowing smile as she gazes at her lover.
"Sie," she says, voice low and silky smooth, fingertip tracing the straight line of Sielaire's nose. "Have you ever made love outdoors?"
Sielaire raises her brow at the question, and a slow blink is her only answer.
"Come on, spill." Ayrenn shifts in her wife's lap, so she is straddling Sielaire. "In all your years of travel before you met me… Have you done it?"
"What do you think?"
"Playing coy, are we?" Ayrenn purrs, trailing her fingers along Sielaire's jaw, up to her ear. "I think…that you have. You would've given me a straight answer if you hadn't."
"Really."
Ayrenn hums and gives her a not-so-chaste kiss. "So tell me," she murmurs against Sielaire's lips. "Have you?"
"Just once. When I was in Skyrim with the Fighters Guild." Sielaire's voice wavers ever so slightly when Ayrenn's lips caress her ear.
"Oh?" Ayrenn says, her warm breath sending a flush to Sielaire's cheeks. "Let me guess… It was cold."
Sielaire's hands start roaming from Ayrenn's hips, as she surrenders an answer, "Yes."
"Who was it? A strong, hot-blooded Nord woman?"
"Yes." She glides her fingers along Ayrenn's back, tracing the few scars on her skin, and the definition of her muscles beneath. Sielaire's other hand slips lower, feeling Ayrenn's muscles tense as she slides slowly up the inner thigh.
"Was she beautiful?" Ayrenn's voice dips into a hush when Sielaire's fingers tease at a wetness not of the spring's waters.
"I don't remember." Sielaire ghosts her lips over Ayrenn's, then lowers her head to kiss down the slope of her partner's shoulder. She sits forward, locking an arm around Ayrenn's back as her kisses trail lower on her wife's chest, and takes a breast into her mouth. A soft whine escapes Ayrenn's throat as Sielaire swirls her tongue around the nipple, then looks up when Ayrenn grips onto the wrist between her thighs.
"Sie," she breathes.
The corner of Selaire's lips curve in a smirk as she continues to massage Ayrenn's entrance, dipping in briefly with tantalising pressure, and elicits a groan when her strokes remain shallow. Ayrenn's hips starting rocking against her partner, trying to prod Sielaire into giving her what she wants, but all she gets is a heated gaze and that maddening smirk.
"Sielaire," Ayrenn growls, sending a shiver down Sielaire's spine. She grinds firmly against Sielaire's fingers and palm, her own hand gripping at the dark locks of her lover's hair, pulling her head back so their eyes meet in a smouldering stare. "In me. Now."
"Is that an order, Your Majesty?"
"Now."
Sielaire smiles, stoking the fire in Ayrenn's eyes, and returns the hard kiss gifted upon her lips. She sinks two fingers easily into Ayrenn, swallowing her wife's moan as Sielaire strokes her from within, thumb rubbing her clit in slow circles. Ayrenn's kisses are insistent, desperate, as she rolls her hips in time with Sielaire's languid thrusts. She groans in frustration when Sielaire's pace doesn't change, and takes her partner's bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard. Not enough to break skin, but her intent is clear.
"Sielaire," she intones huskily.
"You wanted me 'in' you, no?"
"Stop fucking with me." Ayrenn's grip in her hair tightens. "And fuck me."
With a nudge of her thigh, Sielaire guides Ayrenn's legs farther apart and drives her fingers knuckle-deep, Ayrenn's lips falling open in a soundless gasp. Clamping her arm tighter around Ayrenn's waist, Sielaire angles her wrist and finds a sweet spot that makes her partner's back arch in pleasure. Sielaire kisses and nips up from Ayrenn's heaving chest to her exposed throat, drinking in each intoxicating whine and moan of her name. She bites at Ayrenn's chin, then claims her lips in a reverent kiss, feeling Ayrenn's breaths come shorter and quicker, her muscles trembling under Sielaire's firm hold.
Sielaire calls forth a stream of magicka to her hand, a continuous flow culminating in pulses at her fingertips, drawing sharp gasps as Ayrenn grips her tighter, desperate for release. Sielaire curls her digits and digs in, answering Ayrenn's strangled cry with a groan when nails rake deep across her back, in the wake of her partner's climax. Ayrenn's head falls forward to rest against hers, and she gazes quietly at her lover, cupping her cheek and stroking her flushed skin with a thumb.
"You're so beautiful," Sielaire whispers, a soft proclamation, and Ayrenn's eyes flutter open as a lazy smile parts her lips.
"And you, my dear," Ayrenn murmurs breathlessly. "You are simply, infuriatingly, delightful."