The Queen watches helplessly as the ogrim battles the agent who bears Rajhin's Mantle. It is incapacitated by a deep slash across its thick throat, before the very same blade is plunged right into its chest. The binding spell that Naemon cast upon them dissolves, and Sielaire rises to her feet in time with Ayrenn, who stares at the ogrim's body as it shifts back into the elven form of her brother. Her dead brother.
'Why,' Sielaire hears Ayrenn whisper under her breath, before the Queen reasserts control, and dismisses the blame that her agent tries to take upon their shoulders.
Sielaire nods, stoic and resolute, when Ayrenn requests that her battlereeve ensures she remains the Queen, and to…take care of anything less that should emerge from the Orrery in her place. The ceremony is thankfully short; the rapid beat in Sielaire's chest eases when the Queen reappears as herself, and recounts her promising vision of the future.
But she doesn't smile, her voice cool as she continues to instruct the Vicereeve on her late brother's funeral arrangements, making it clear that he would be remembered as nothing less than a hero of the Dominion. Pelidil bows to her, then kneels beside Naemon's body with quiet prayers on his lips.
Ayrenn's eyes linger on her brother before she turns sharply away, not slowing down as she passes by Sielaire, uttering a quiet order, "Follow."
Sielaire obeys without question, but not for long when the Queen climbs the steps, and strides towards the entrance without signaling for the rest of the guards to join her as well.
"Your Majesty," Sielaire says, but receives no acknowledgement. She pulls forward to walk astride the Queen, regarding the hard set in Ayrenn's jaw, the crease between her brows; the dim turquoise glow of magical fires lining the stone halls casts half her face in shadow, accentuating the severity in her countenance.
"Your Majesty," Sielaire tries again. "Shall I call for your escort–?"
A sharp glance cuts off her question, and Sielaire's voice dies as they come to an abrupt halt atop the last flight of stairs, standing before the heavy stone doors of the Orrery's entrance. Sielaire waits, but the Queen doesn't give her an answer, fixing her with a mild glare before moving to push the doors open – which Sielaire promptly helps her with.
Ayrenn barely looks at her. The Queen heads left from the Orrery, taking a secluded path under the shadows of the Elden Tree, before making a turn to walk past the small retinue of guards stationed below her quarters. She doesn't say a word, but Sielaire understands her intent. Catching Urcelmo's eye, Sielaire makes a few swift gestures with her hand, and he nods in the affirmative. Urcelmo turns back to his guards and starts disseminating orders – select Talon soldiers will be stationed along Elden Root's borders to keep watch for a distress signal, which Sielaire will send in the form of lightning towards the sky, should they meet with trouble.
Sielaire hastens forward as they leave the Elden Tree behind, catching up with Ayrenn, who has pulled ahead of her. The Queen seems to have no intent of looking back, her eyes fixed forward as they leave the city and plunge right into the forest, straying far from paved roads. It worries Sielaire, who is keen on not violating the Green Pact by accident, but she is given no time to pause or think, only to hike behind Ayrenn at the unforgiving pace her partner has set.
They move through the forest without speaking, Sielaire kept busy scanning the thick foliage for movement, drawing her blade along with Ayrenn whenever they cross paths with senche-tigers, spriggans, giant bats, and other aggressive natives of the forest. Ayrenn is quick to fly into battle, often before Sielaire can safely cast her magic without harming the Queen. But Sielaire accepts her recklessness, recognising Ayrenn's need for release, and adapts her combat style to cover the openings that Ayrenn leaves, cutting down their adversaries before they can land a single scratch on her charge.
They hold their ground well enough – very well, in fact. But the longer Ayrenn continues on her aimless trek through the forest, the more pertinent it becomes to stop her before they start stretching their luck. Sielaire times herself, starting when Ayrenn's sword swings are a little less wild, and ends when they reach the western border of Grahtwood, on the southern reaches of Gil-Var-Delle.
Sielaire reaches out and grasps onto Ayrenn's arm, forcing her to stop a few paces before the cliff's edge overlooking the sea. She doesn't speak, but it's apparent that Ayrenn has been brimming with unspoken conflict, for she is the first to break the silence without prodding.
"Will you leave me?" Ayrenn asks, and Sielaire cocks her head, unsure of her partner's meaning. "Or will you be taken from me, by a world that is intent on taking from me…" Her voice falters, eyes growing a touch wider as if in sudden epiphany, before she releases a tired breath with a bitter curve on her lips. "…what I threw aside in the first place."
Sielaire aches at the flatness in the blue gaze that turns to meet her eyes, and she raises a hand, gently brushing aside the blonde locks that have fallen from behind Ayrenn's crown. She tugs Ayrenn in, enclosing her in a firm embrace. Ayrenn takes a long, quivering breath by her ear, but says nothing more. She clutches Sielaire tightly and closes her eyes, lowering her head to rest on Sielaire's shoulder.
They don't need words; they know that neither will leave the other.
Ayrenn presses closer to Sielaire, clinging to her sturdy warmth as the air turns chill in the approaching night.
Marbruk is a city built much like home, its elegant architecture and solid stone walls affording Sielaire a chance to breathe during their stay, even if the sense of security is largely superficial. There is plenty of ill will – hostility, even – directed towards the city, which is viewed by some as an Altmer colony, an alien entity that doesn't belong in Greenshade. Naturally, this puts the safety of the Queen at risk, but it is a game they are well-acquainted with – one they've played since landing on the shores of Valenwood.
Sielaire marches through the city alone, returning the salutes of guards who've recognised her even without the usual squad of soldiers on her heels. She has dismissed them for the day, allowing them to grab some extra rest while she ends her shift with a report to the Queen.
There are two soldiers stationed by the doors to the Queen's residence as always, but after they salute smartly to the battlereeve, one flings out his arm to obstruct Sielaire's path when she reaches for the wooden door.
"Beg pardon, Battlereeve," he says quickly, as Sielaire frowns at him. "But no one is allowed entry. Queen's orders."
"Understood."
The soldier's thin veneer of confidence cracks when Sielaire makes no move to leave. He shares a glance with his partner, then lowers his arm slowly, biting his lip as Sielaire pushes the door open, and enters the house with a confidence one shouldn't have when disobeying the Queen's wishes.
Sielaire closes the door behind her and casts an eye over the dark room, dimly illuminated by candles and a crackling fire in the hearth. Ayrenn is seated on the bench before the fireplace, shoulders slumped and head bowed. Her crown, sword, and pauldrons are set on the table beside her, but other than that, she is still fully armoured…despite having retired to her manor over an hour ago.
Ayrenn doesn't move, or even lift her head to look at Sielaire when the battlereeve goes to stand beside the bench. Her stony gaze is fixed on the fire and the two cats sleeping in front of it.
Sielaire waits, but when Ayrenn makes no move to acknowledge her presence, she tries tentatively, "Your Grace?"
Ayrenn's eyes briefly fall shut, her shoulders rise and fall in a subtle, silent sigh – Sielaire has started on the wrong foot. But the Queen nods, and she continues to give her report.
"Everything is in order, Your Majesty," Sielaire informs her simply, keeping the report succinct. "The Artisan has been apprehended, an agent's been dispatched to Bramblebreach for negotiations, and Razum-dar is currently tracking down the Staff of Magnus. We expect a report from him in a few days."
The Queen nods again at the end of her report, and Sielaire continues to stand at attention when Ayrenn doesn't dismiss her. She waits a few more moments, then sheds her formal demeanour.
"Ayrenn?" Sielaire takes a few steps closer as her ever-present concern rises to the surface, after being suppressed for the entire day in favour of protocol.
Ayrenn has been notably subdued since the incident in the Orrery, and is given that subtle sliver of personal space by her subjects and peers, who've accepted her sombre mien as a facet of her grief. She'd remained so for the journey from Grahtwood to Greenshade, and became more withdrawn when news of her brother's missing body is delivered in Razum-dar's quiet tone. Sielaire has stuck close to her side since then, the Queen's placid exterior worrying her deeper than if she'd just broken down in tears.
Has she, Sielaire wonders.
"Do you think me selfish?"
She blinks at the sudden question, nearly disinclined to believe the Queen has spoken after her prolonged reticence. Sielaire straightens her shoulders, but the question makes her uneasy, and she shifts on her feet.
"Your silence is answer enough," Ayrenn murmurs, and Sielaire winces on the inside.
"You are…stubborn, self-confident," she says, piecing her answer together as she speaks. "What you want, you will have – no matter the consequence. At times, it does make you seem selfish, yes."
Ayrenn nods slowly.
"Does it bother you?"
"Does it bother you?" Ayrenn turns her head towards Sielaire, but only slightly, so the shadows cast over her face makes it difficult to read her expression. "It only makes me all the more troublesome to guard over, no?"
"Yes, it does. But it is a part of you that I've come to accept."
Ayrenn looks up at her, blinking in quiet surprise. "I'd…expected you to deny that." She stares at Sielaire, who raises a brow in question. "But acceptance doesn't mean that you don't dislike it."
"That…is not my meaning."
"Oh?" Ayrenn tilts her head. "Then you do like it?"
"On occasion, yes. I do," Sielaire relents with a curve on her lips. "It is part of your charm…even if you do drive me up the wall, sometimes."
Ayrenn smiles thinly, but it is fleeting, and disappears as her gaze drifts back to the fireplace once more. Sielaire wonders if her gentle tease was a misstep.
She hesitates, then moves closer to Ayrenn, attracting a curious glance from one of the slumbering cats, before it returns to its nap.
"Do you feel regret over the prince?" Sielaire asks.
Ayrenn lifts her eyes to the mantelpiece in thought.
"Regret?" Ayrenn echoes flatly. "Yes, I do. I regret…that he has met his end in such a manner."
Still skimming the surface.
Sielaire steels herself, and probes deeper. "And for what has led to his actions?"
"You mean, my snatching the throne away from him?" Ayrenn exposes her meaning with a tired laugh. "No. I do not regret it, and I will never regret it." A long pause meets the end of her declaration, then she adds, "I suppose this is part of my…'self-confidence', isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. He performed his duties as heir to the letter, only to have his prize stolen by his long lost, wayward sister at the very end."
Ayrenn's face remains free of emotion, but Sielaire notices her posture growing slightly rigid.
"But if it's any consolation," Sielaire adds. "I believe you are the better choice for the throne."
A quiet huff. "You're not just saying that because you care for me."
"No."
Whether or not Ayrenn believes her, it seems only time will tell. The Queen's gaze drops again, head bowed in her introspection. Sielaire sits beside her, and grasps her chin gently. There is a brief moment of resistance, after which Ayrenn gives into Sielaire's urging, and finally meets her gaze proper. Ayrenn's eyes are bloodshot, ringed with the shadow of exhaustion, and the reddish, irritated skin where she had wiped at the tears roughly. Sielaire's heart twists at the sight. She runs her fingers through blonde hair, cupping Ayrenn's cheek as her partner leans into the touch.
"You don't have to bear this alone, Renn," Sielaire reminds her softly. "I'm here."
Ayrenn swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as she forces another fleeting smile. "I know," she rasps, pressing her lips to Sielaire's palm. A tear cuts down her cheek as she meets Sielaire's kiss, clutching at her partner's shoulders as she waits for, and is given, another reassuring brush of their lips together. A weak smile graces her face before she breaks into tears, and Sielaire is quick to pull Ayrenn close, cradling her as the sobs grow harsher, holding her firm when she leans heavily into Sielaire's arms.
After spending months traveling around Valenwood and Elsweyr, returning to the Summerset Isles is perhaps the sweetest relief Sielaire has felt for some time. She knows the islands like the back of her hand, and understands each region's geography well enough that she can plan security detail with Urcelmo ahead of time, dealing with threats before Ayrenn makes passage through the area. Still, she keeps alert with her fellow battlereeve until they have seen Ayrenn safely to Alinor, where they can finally breathe and feel at ease within the palace's walls.
Now though, she wonders if they aren't starting to close in on her.
Sielaire strolls down the grand hallway of the palace's west wing, with half a mind on her destination, and the other half on her finger – specifically, the ring on her finger. It has been a few days since Ayrenn has given it to her, though their promise to each other is still kept secret. They have worn the rings faithfully since then, hidden beneath their gloves; out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. Ayrenn wears that adoring smile whenever they are alone, and Sielaire…just wants her to be happy.
She fidgets with the ring through her glove, nodding absentmindedly at the two soldiers who salute in passing. Has she made the right decision in accepting the ring? It is what they both desire, yes, but she fears that it will hurt Ayrenn's status in future. Their affair is a known secret, and none have batted an eye at it – it's not uncommon for rulers to take lovers, even illicit ones. But for the Queen to actually wed one, who is well below her station…
Sielaire exhales sharply in her frustration, attracting curious glances from the guards standing by the throne room's side entrance.
"Battlereeve, the Queen has ordered–"
"For none to enter. Understood." She is given no resistance when she reaches for the door. After long months of travel, the guards have come to understand that the Queen's wish for privacy has but one exception.
Sielaire finds Ayrenn sitting languidly in her throne, reclined with legs outstretched, leaning an elbow on the armrest. The Queen smiles at her as she approaches.
"Yes, love?"
"The dignitaries from Valenwood have arrived," Sielaire says, standing just before the throne. "But I've informed them that the Queen is currently occupied, and that she will dine with them in the evening. In the meantime, their assigned stewards will see to their needs."
"Sounds like you have everything under control," Ayrenn muses. "Why are you here?"
"My duties are well taken care of, and I have some time on my hands. I thought to offer my services to the…very busy Queen."
"How thoughtful of you." Ayrenn chuckles, straightening herself. She gestures at the empty throne beside her, and looks pointedly at Sielaire, who hesitates.
"I…would rather not. Yet."
Ayrenn's smile takes on that impish curve, but she nods, understanding Sielaire's reservation. Instead, she shifts to the left side in her seat, and pats at the empty space beside her. Sielaire raises a brow at her incredulously, and they remain locked in a stare until Sielaire relents. She sits gingerly on the edge of the throne at first, her every muscle coiled and ready to bolt at a moment's notice, but Ayrenn holds her by the hips and guides her backwards. Sielaire squeezes farther into the throne, which is obviously designed for just one royal figure to sit in. But the tight fit doesn't bother Ayrenn, who seems happy enough, and rests an arm around Sielaire's waist.
"Why are you here alone?" Sielaire asks.
"Thinking." Ayrenn shrugs, then sweeps a hand over the vast hall. "This…feels so empty, all of a sudden."
"You're not in session." Sielaire smiles at Ayrenn's huff and the pinch she receives in her side.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She sighs to herself as she traces the edges of the armour in silent thought. "Tell me, what was my father like?"
"You're his daughter."
"And you are the one with fresher memories of him."
That gives Sielaire pause, and she fixes Ayrenn with a searching gaze, though her partner's composure gives nothing away. "He was…old, by the time I rose high enough in rank to serve him directly. But you could still see the vitality in him, and there were moments when he behaved as if he were still a young, energetic king. Rather like you, I suppose," she says, peering closely at Ayrenn. "Just less…unpredictable."
Ayrenn laughs softly. "'Unpredictable'. That's a nice way of putting it." She crosses her legs, drumming her fingers on the throne. "Most of my memories of him are…faded, by now. But I still remember how he'd always chastise me for being 'wild' and 'unruly', worried that I'd disgrace the family." Her gaze softens. "And my mother would just smile at me over his shoulder. She never said it aloud, but I think she liked my antics."
She falls silent for a moment, fingers curling into her palm. "Wonder if she liked my disappearing act."
Ayrenn's gaze grows distant, then she blinks at the touch on her cheek, and smiles up at Sielaire. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. All in the past, isn't it?" She sighs, grasping Sielaire's hand to kiss her knuckles, before jumping up from the throne with sudden vigour.
Sielaire rises from the throne quickly as well, and straightens her uniform as Ayrenn stretches her back with a few audible cracks.
"Time to move forward," Ayrenn declares, turning around to face her partner with that regal, confident posture. "I think I shall greet our dignitaries before we dine in the evening. Will you accompany me, my dear Kinlady?"
Sielaire smiles. "Always, my Queen."
A/N: That part when you're in Greenshade and Ayrenn spends most of the time crying in her Marbruk home... :c
Since there was no hug option, here's my fix-it lmao