Sielaire lingers before the stall, stroking Zephyr's neck as the mare nuzzles into her cheek. This one's always been more affectionate than her war horse, and though she appreciates the extra love, Sielaire has found herself wishing that Zephyr's goodbyes are more…succinct. Where her war horse is content to send her off with a short nicker and swish of the tail, Zephyr needs prolonged physical contact, and desists only after receiving a good amount of pets and scratches.
When the mare finally turns away to get comfortable in her stall, Sielaire makes her escape, joining Ayrenn where she stands akimbo outside the stables, gazing at the apple orchards opposite the wide, paved road. Directly before them are the workers' lodgings and barns built along a rough stone path, from which stretched on countless rows of apple trees. Sielaire's family owns the best orchards in southern Summerset – along with a good number of cider mills and houses – which has allowed them to live very comfortably in the countryside. Maybe even more so now; Sielaire squints at the farthest corner of the orchard, wondering if they've expanded the fields since she'd last left.
"Your home is beautiful," Ayrenn says, when Sielaire takes her hand and leads her down the main road.
"It's a farm."
Ayrenn cocks her head. "Your point?"
Sielaire just shrugs and tugs at Ayrenn's arm, heading up the path towards her house – or at least, what she recognises as her house. The cottage she remembers has grown larger, with a third floor sitting atop its original two; it looks more like a villa now, with the addition of a west and east wing, and a fresh coat of white paint to go with the dark grey roof tiles. When Sielaire reaches the door, she tries poking her key into the lock and – unsurprisingly – discovers that it doesn't fit.
"This is what happens when you don't go home for eight years," Ayrenn says.
"I was busy fighting your war. Hush." Sielaire rings the brass doorbell, hearing its magically amplified echo travel through the building. "And it's seven years."
"Seven years, ten months. It's practically eight."
Sielaire raises her eyes skywards, and Ayrenn smiles, bumping their shoulders together. Two long minutes later, they hear footsteps approaching the door; Sielaire takes a breath and squares herself up, while Ayrenn massages her back, trying to ease her tension. The door swings open to reveal a well-kept, middle-aged Altmer matron, whose long blonde hair is worn in a loose ponytail. The cut of her cheekbones and jaw, though softer, makes it clear where Sielaire got her looks from.
The matron freezes at the sight of Sielaire, mouth falling open slowly as she tries to find her words. "You," she says with obvious struggle. "You–, you rascal!"
Despite what sounds like a chide, she grabs Sielaire and yanks her into a tight hug, continuing to speak into the taller woman's shoulder. "How dare you not return even once in what, ten years–?"
"Seven."
"It's as good as ten. Look at these!" Her mother pulls back, pointing at the beginnings of crow's feet at her eyes. "I got these just worrying about you for the last ten years–"
"Seven…" Sielaire mutters as her mother stops abruptly, her eyes having landed on Ayrenn. Sielaire holds her breath when she continues staring at Ayrenn wordlessly, wondering if she recognises their ruler out of disguise–
"And who is this?" Her mother's demeanour eases quickly into a refined manner in the presence of a stranger.
"She's my…partner, Ayrenn." Sielaire pauses while her mother tilts her head, brows furrowing lightly. "Ayrenn, my mother. Lirinwe."
"Ayrenn?" Lirinwe titters, leaning towards the newcomer conspiratorially. "You wouldn't happen to be the Queen, would you?"
"Well…"
"Empress, mom. She's the Empress now," Sielaire clarifies, and it seems the emphasis in her tone hasn't tipped her mother off to Ayrenn's identity just yet.
"Oh, Queen, Empress, whatever." Lirinwe waves a hand dismissively. "Whoever's wearing the fanciest crown."
Ayrenn's eyes are wide, lips parted in a captivated smile – she looks absolutely taken with the older woman. If Sielaire didn't know better, she'd think Ayrenn is falling head-over-heels in love.
"Come, dear." Lirinwe guides Ayrenn in with a hand on her shoulder. "I'll show you to Sie's room so you can put down your bags."
"You still have my room?" Sielaire says drily, meeting the ecstatic glance that Ayrenn shoots her; the damn woman is in paradise.
"In its old place, yes. You're still our daughter, my dear. We won't throw your things into a dark corner just because you've been gone for ten years."
"Seven."
To Ayrenn's delight and Sielaire's exasperation, the Empress's identity remains a mystery as the day goes on, and Ayrenn seems more than happy to play along. She receives compliments from Sielaire's father gracefully, giving an easy laugh when Erelmir declares she is able to claim the throne through virtue of her beauty alone. Sielaire can't help but let her face fall into her palm at his words, and groans quietly into his shoulder when Erelmir laughs heartily, welcoming his daughter home with a firm embrace.
Her younger brother does little to embarrass her, owing to the quiet disposition he shares with Sielaire. But Virano, too, doesn't recognise Ayrenn and treats her courteously, as if she were any other. But their impromptu charade comes to an unexpected end when night has fallen, and the family is seated around the dining table, waiting for the arrival of their youngest – and tardiest – family member.
Rilenya's hasty entrance can be heard in the loud thud of the door, and her hurried footsteps approaching the room. She strides through the doorway, offering her apologies as she smooths a hand over her strawberry blonde hair, then freezes when her gaze lands on Ayrenn. Sielaire lowers the glass of wine from her lips, watching a myriad of emotions play across her sister's face, before Rilenya sinks into a deep bow.
"Your Majesty," she gasps. "I offer my deepest apologies for my tardiness. I didn't know–"
"Rilen," Virano says, turning around in his seat to face her. "What are you doing? Stop embarrassing us, you loghead–"
"Me? Embarrass you? No, what are you doing!" Rilen thrusts a hand out at her father, who's sitting at the head of the table. "Why is the Empress not sitting there!"
Sielaire takes a long draught of red wine as three pairs of eyes turn towards Ayrenn, who keeps the easy smile on her face.
"Ayrenn?" Erelmir asks.
"Oh, Divines above, dad! You don't just address the Empress by her name!"
"Now, now," Ayrenn cuts in, as Sielaire drinks more wine beside her. "There is no issue, really. I don't mind–"
Apparently that is as good a confession from her, for the entire family shoots up from their chairs and sinks into deep bows, uttering apologies like an unharmonised choir. Sielaire doesn't bother bringing the glass away from her lips, already three-quarters done with her wine.
"Please," Ayrenn says, and they fall silent at the single word. "I'm here as your guest, not as the Empress. It is quite alright to treat me as you have done so far – as one of your own."
"You're still–," Erelmir stammers. "We shouldn't."
Sielaire's empty glass meets the table with a clink as she sighs at her family, who stand stone-still before the table. "Don't want to disobey the Empress's wishes now, do we?"
Ayrenn casts her an amused glance, and picks up the nearest decanter to refill her glass. Sielaire meets her sister's eyes, nearly breaking into a smirk when Rilenya appears ready to burst a blood vessel at Ayrenn's act of courtesy. Her simple action and Sielaire's composure, though, seems to convince them of the sincerity in Ayrenn's request. The family inches back into their seats, though Sielaire has to give her father a subtle nod before he retakes his chair at the head of the table.
"Rilenya." Ayrenn smiles when the younger woman snaps to attention. "How did you recognise me?"
"Your Majes–" The formal address dies on Rilenya's tongue at Sielaire's pointed look. "Um, I was in the palace years ago, when you'd just returned. We met while you were selecting dresses for the coronation banquet."
"Ah, yes! I thought you looked familiar – you were that sprightly little thing following your mentor around, weren't you?"
A hint of pink touches Rilenya's cheeks as she nods.
"Ayrenn, if I may ask," Lirinwe says. "Why are you here? Are you really…" Her eyes slide away from Ayrenn to rest on Sielaire, who can practically see the day's events replay in her mother's pale irises. "Sie…"
Ayrenn looks to Sielaire, who tilts her head in the affirmative. "I do apologise for misleading you before, Lirinwe, but there is a reason why I am visiting." She takes Sielaire's hand under the table, wearing a gentle smile as she continues, "I am here to ask your blessing for my union with Sielaire."
The family freezes again – this time with Rilenya choking on her own wine – and Sielaire has to refrain from reaching for her refilled glass. Instead, she grasps at Ayrenn's hand just a tad firmer, feeling her partner's fingers tighten around hers.
"Union," Erelmir repeats. "You mean, marriage?"
"Yes."
Silence falls over the room, before Erelmir speaks again. "Sielaire? You are…agreeable?"
"Of course I am," Sielaire finally joins the conversation. "We've been wed for five years."
The fork in Lirinwe's hand falls to the tablecloth with a dull clatter.
"And you've never bothered telling us in those five years?" Rilenya asks incredulously. "Not once in your letters did you think to go, 'Hey guys, I'm alive, still not coming back. Oh, by the way, I'm married to the bloody Empress!'" She catches herself at the end, muttering a quick 'sorry' for her language.
"I didn't want to expose you to the Veiled Heritance," Sielaire replies. "If anything had happened to me, or Ayrenn, I didn't want them to turn on you as well. Or even use you as leverage." She holds her sister's gaze steadily, until Rilenya lowers her own eyes, conceding the point to Sielaire.
"So…" Virano says quietly, breaking the silence before it can settle again. "If you two are married, and you're the Empress, then that means Sie is…"
"She is High Kinlady, yes," Ayrenn confirms. "Even if she's had to keep the title quiet until now. And I would really love to gain your approval before the coronation ceremony, when she will be crowned as Empress Consort."
Erelmir exchanges a glance with his wife, then curves his lips into a graceful smile. "Of course, Ayrenn. So long as my daughter is happy…" His gaze moves to Sielaire, who nods.
"I am."
"Then I am happy, as well. For the both of you."
Sielaire closes the door behind her and, upon noticing the looks of worry on her parents' faces, knows that something is…off. No child, she suspects, has ever been summoned to their parents' room for a mere light-hearted chat.
"Sie, honey…" Lirinwe starts, but doesn't seem to have the energy to go on.
"If this is about Ayrenn," Sielaire fills in the silence for her. "I want you to know that I am committed – fully."
"So it seems."
"Then what is the problem?"
"The problem is that it seems…too good to be true," Lirinwe says, calm and slow, as if navigating a field of rune traps. "Sielaire, look. Ayrenn seems like a wonderful woman, I don't deny it. But I'm worried that this might be some sort of…ploy?
"A ploy at what, mother?" Sielaire asks. "What could she possibly seek to gain by marrying someone who's not even nobility?"
"Well, technically…" Lirinwe drawls.
"Technically we descended from nobles, yes, but you are merchants now. And I, a soldier. There is nothing she can gain by marrying me, and yet she has stayed with me, even after it has hurt her standing with some of the Thalmor."
"And isn't that worrying?"
"Yes, it is," Sielaire admits. "But she stands firm, and so shall I – with her."
Lirinwe looks to her husband, who takes the baton, and speaks gently, "Are you ready to do so?"
"Yes. Whatever I have to do, I will."
Erelmir chuckles under his breath fondly. "Really? If I remember correctly, you could barely sit still during a single trade negotiation, and now you're going to dive feet-first into politics? It's like barely learning to swim before diving into a pool of snakes."
"Trust me, I know the feeling." Sielaire crosses her arms, frowning at the memory of the 'snakes'. "But I won't change my mind. I will stay by Ayrenn, for better or worse."
Her parents share a lengthy glance, and she softens, letting out a breath. "I love her. That I have stayed with her for the past five–, no, eight years should be proof enough that I won't leave her side."
"Eight years?" Erelmir repeats with a smile. "So you were married for five, and courting for three before that?"
"Yes."
"Well, at least now she admits she's been gone for more than seven years," Lirinwe says. "And we know exactly why she's been staying away."
"Because there was a war?" Sielaire deadpans, rolling her eyes as Lirinwe touches her cheek.
"You know, if I weren't your mother, I'd be more touched by how hopeless a romantic you are."
"A shame. Really."
Sielaire flicks her fingers, and a luminous green whip cuts through the air, neatly slicing an apple's stem. She catches the fruit as it falls, calling forth a bit of water to wash off its bright red skin, then looks around at the call of her name.
"Sie!" Virano says reproachfully. "No magic! I told you, the apples need to be handled with love and care!"
She stares flatly back at him, keeping eye contact as she bites into the apple, flicking out another whip with her free hand. The apple falls onto the grass, and even from this distance, she can hear Virano's frustrated growl as he pantomimes strangling her, before stalking away with a pout.
After Sielaire made it very clear that she has no interest in the family's orchards – much like Rilenya, who expressed a passion for tailoring instead of apples – Virano stands to inherit the business from their parents. Luckily, he's more than happy to do so; Virano very much loves the orchards, even though Sielaire thinks he can get too protective of them at times.
She brings the apple up for another bite, only to have it diverted from her mouth when Ayrenn grabs her wrist, and tugs it over for a taste.
"Mm, so good. I should arrange for some deliveries to the palace."
"You already do. The cider," Sielaire reminds her, twirling a hand idly to cut down three apples in one go.
"I mean the apples themselves," Ayrenn replies, though her attention is no longer on the conversation. She raises her own hand, sending forth a sharp force akin to a blade's edge, which splits the air and severs two apples neatly from the tree.
Sielaire cocks a brow at Ayrenn's pleased expression, then waves at the tree again; four apples drop, and only one lands in the bushel. She locks gazes with Ayrenn, neither of them even bothering to look at the apples as they take turns slicing the fruits down, quicker and quicker, until–
"Race you to the end!" Ayrenn shouts, then sprints down the row of trees, throwing her magic out at each one she passes, leaving apples raining to the ground in her wake.
Sielaire chases after her, with whips flashing from both hands as she ignores Virano's voice behind her, crying her name in dismay. Hitting her stride after the first two trees, Sielaire picks up even more speed until she overtakes Ayrenn – or she would, if her wife hadn't lunged right at her, shoving her to the ground.
She scrambles to her feet, lips parting in a grin at Ayrenn's mischievous laughter as she runs after the blonde, ramming into her side as well. Ayrenn stumbles, then leaps onto Sielaire's back, wrapping both arms around her neck tight, before throwing her to the side and sprinting ahead again. Sielaire follows, dodging and returning pushes, then catches Ayrenn in her arms and digs her fingers into Ayrenn's sides, tickling her mercilessly until she is left kneeling on the grass, writhing and laughing breathlessly.
When Ayrenn is bent over with her head nearly to the ground, Sielaire takes off again, though she only took two wide strides before a gust of wind hits her lower shins, tripping her face-first onto the grass. Ayrenn's shadow passes briefly over her as she wipes the grass from her face, and she snorts at the near-maniacal laughter coming from Ayrenn. She looks up at her wife's back, then throws a hand out, her whip flying through the air to catch Ayrenn's ankle, yanking the woman off her feet.
Ayrenn falls forward and hits the ground with a cry. Sielaire waits for a few moments, her unease growing when Ayrenn drags her hands weakly over the grass, but doesn't get up. Sielaire's mind switches in an instant, hot blood turning to ice in her veins as she sprints to her partner's side.
"Ayrenn." Sielaire falls to her knees by the groaning elf. She clasps Ayrenn's shoulder, turning her over carefully – and is greeted with a sly grin. Sielaire's eyes grow wide just as she is tackled to the ground, left lying on her back and staring in disbelief at Ayrenn, who kneels over her victoriously.
"Gullible," Ayrenn croons, tweaking her nose.
Sielaire's reproach disappears against Ayrenn's lips, and she is left helpless as the kiss deepens, leftover adrenaline spiking once more in her veins. She groans at the swipe of a tongue against hers, and pants softly when Ayrenn releases her, getting lost in that tender blue gaze. Laughing soundlessly between deep breaths, Sielaire runs her hand through tousled blonde tresses, before turning her eyes towards the orchard, where her siblings stand among the apples strewn haphazardly all over the ground.
"They ruined my apples," Virano laments, while his younger sister turns her gaze towards the couple still lying on the grass.
"They're going to ruin more than your apples at this rate," Rilenya says, tossing them a wink.
"Oh, Virano," Ayrenn calls, and Virano stops in his tracks. He catches sight of her, and jogs over to join Ayrenn by the main road. "Have you seen Sielaire around? I couldn't find her in the house or stables."
"Huh." He scratches at his chin, casting his eyes over the orchards. "Well, she won't be with the apples, that's for sure. Not of her own will, anyway." Virano hums thoughtfully, then points towards the north. "Why don't you try there? Follow the main road until you see the river. I have a cabin off to the right, a little ways before the river bank. Maybe Sie's there with the cats."
"The cats?"
"Oh, yeah. The cats she brought back from…who knows where, years ago. Right before she ran off to join the marines, conveniently leaving us to take care of them instead. Damn cats," Virano grumbles. "Tore my towels. Scratched my trees."
Ayrenn bites down a laugh, thanking Virano before leaving him to his own musings. She takes a deep breath, the fragrance of freshly-picked apples bringing a smile to her lips as she walks down the road, passing an eye over the trees and filled bushels sitting by them. The sight, coupled with the past few days she has spent here, reminds her why Sielaire is unwilling to stay in her family's orchards.
On one hand, life on the homestead is quite idyllic, and Ayrenn finds herself appreciating the peace and freedom much more than the rigid confines of the palace. On the other, she can't imagine spending day after day at the orchards, having to deal with apples, apples, and more apples for the rest of her life. Really, Ayrenn thinks she might lose her mind at the mere prospect of it, and understands Sielaire's story of running to the Mages Guild the moment she was old enough.
Still, Ayrenn appreciates the serenity it provides for their vacation, and she walks with light steps all the way to the river, turning right to find Virano's cozy log cabin, along with her wife sitting on its deck…surrounded by a few cats and a large litter of kittens.
Ayrenn pauses in her tracks, the scene before her eyes bringing a smile to her lips. Three grown cats laze on the deck around Sielaire, bathing in sunlight and paying the elf no mind. The kittens, however, are more interested in their new playmate, clambering over her crossed legs and knees, climbing up her shirt towards her shoulders, and taking turns to lounge in Sielaire's hold.
Setting down the two kittens in her hands, Sielaire picks up a particularly fluffy one poking about her feet, cupping the little thing in both hands and rubbing her thumbs gently over its belly. She smiles when it mewls and wiggles its paws, then nuzzles her nose into its stomach, making its tail swish in approval. When Sielaire lifts her head, she glances briefly in Ayrenn's direction, then does a double take as the kitten slides off her hands and lands in her lap.
Ayrenn approaches her, wearing an indulgent smile as Sielaire scratches at her nape with a light flush on her cheeks.
"Having fun?"
Sielaire shrugs, wincing when a kitten on her shoulder scrapes at her ear with its little claws. She lowers it to the deck as Ayrenn sits with her amid the mewling lot, pressing a kiss to her cheek. As Ayrenn pulls back, she notices another kitten fast asleep in the hood hanging behind Sielaire's neck, and she huffs in amusement.
"You're such a popular one," Ayrenn teases. "I've to start keeping a closer eye on you."
"They're cats, Renn."
"Cats who love you, apparently." She lifts one in her hands, stroking down its back. "Virano said you were the one who brought them back."
"Just these three." Sielaire points at the grown cats lying near them. "Seems they've managed to breed quite successfully." She pets the grey kitten curled up on her knee, then lowers another kitten that has climbed up to her shoulder. "I thought you were having tea with mom?"
"Yes, but then I missed you." Ayrenn kisses her softly, then adds, "And we ran out of tea." She smiles when Sielaire snorts. "You know, your mother isn't half as bad as you made her out to be."
"That's because you're not her eldest daughter. She doesn't nag at you," Sielaire sighs.
"I know. But I still think she's lovely," Ayrenn says, running her fingers down Sielaire's arm. "I've been thinking. Maybe we could stay here a little longer."
Sielaire raises a brow. "Why? We have quite a few places to go, no?"
"Well, we could give the swamps in Valenwood a pass. I've never really liked them." Ayrenn waves a hand nonchalantly. "Besides, it'd be nice to spend a little more time with family. You haven't seen them in years. It wouldn't hurt to stay longer this time, would it?"
"I guess not," Sielaire admits, though her eyes are still locked with Ayrenn's, searching for an answer which her partner surrenders.
"And I like being with them," Ayrenn says. "They make me feel…nice. At home. It's been a while since…"
Sielaire nods and cups her cheek in one hand, letting her fall silent, assured in the fact that her partner understands. Ayrenn smiles into the gentle kiss that Sielaire presses to her lips.
"I love you, Sie," she whispers.
"I love you too." Sielaire gives her a peck on the forehead, then guides Ayrenn's head to rest on her shoulder.
Ayrenn snuggles close to her wife, whose arms circle around her in a firm embrace, as she hugs Sielaire about the waist. Another smile curves Ayrenn's lips at the sensation of little feet padding up her own shoulder, and Sielaire's hand stroking her arm soothingly, as the kittens mewl and purr in a neverending chorus around them.
If anything feels like home, this must be it.
A/N: 'Wanderlust' will continue as their travels all over Tamriel, during and after their honeymoon. (Hey they need a honeymoon alright they did just win a war) I hope to write about them visiting each province as I progress in ESO as well, so...this might be interesting