A magnificent banquet in the vast hall of Castle Alinor, held in honour of the long-lost Princess Ayrenn's return and her claim to the throne. The Court of Alinor is in attendance, along with every kinlord, kinlady, and dignitary who were invited and are eager to see for themselves the Queen-to-be. Those who've spoken to her are as delighted as they are surprised – Ayrenn displays an adherence to decorum with a natural flair as expected from Altmeri royalty, but weaves such ease and wit into a traditionally stoic demeanour, that it almost seems outlandish.

And she secretly delights in it.

Not just for her own amusement, no. She is able to gauge each individual's character, according to the response she baits from them; and in so doing, she identifies potential allies who won't shy away from her lofty and ambitious vision, and notes those who may pose trouble in the future. Carrying this secret agenda in mind, Ayrenn tries to speak with each and every guest, but alas, some remain out of her reach even as the night draws to a close.

Picking a glass of wine from a server's tray, Ayrenn reminds herself not to take a sip while walking, and makes a beeline for her cousin, who is just extracting herself from a conversation with two kinladies. Taking Alwinarwe gently by the hand, she guides her cousin smoothly towards a quiet spot in the back of the hall, where Alwinarwe takes a glass of wine for herself and dismisses the servant.

"Is there something on your mind?" Alwinarwe asks, taking a sip from her glass.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Ayrenn scans the hall discretely, then leans closer to Alwinarwe when she spots the one she's looking for. "Tell me about that one," she says quietly, nodding at the red-headed battlereeve standing at the far side of the hall, speaking with two fellow battlereeves and a jurisreeve.

This commander in particular has caught her eye, and frustrated Ayrenn, who can never seem to get close enough to strike up a conversation with her. Thus, all Ayrenn has is but a visual judgment on her; the battlereeve's neutral expression never once wavered in the time Ayrenn has watched her, though she has broken into a polite smile now and again. Her dress uniform is as impeccable as that of her colleagues, and she cuts a sharp figure in the sleek ceremonial breastplate, worn beneath a high-collared open coat, held together with a belt around the waist.

Alwinarwe tilts her head slightly in confusion, until she finally finds the one Ayrenn has pointed out. "Ah. Battlereeve Sielaire, of Shimmerene. Her career in the military has been relatively short, but impressive enough that she was catapulted to Battlereeve at such a young age."

"How young?" Ayrenn's curiosity is piqued.

Her cousin takes a moment to think. "If I recall correctly, she was little older than 50 when she was promoted. That is about…" Alwinarwe's fingers twitch around her wine glass in mental calculation. "6 years ago. It caused quite a bit of a stir – because of her age, many believed she'd politicked to attain that rank."

"But did she?"

"Hm. From what I know of her, and her character, I am disinclined to believe that theory. Besides, her record of victories against the Maormer speaks for itself – even the late general who was her mentor, cited her as a 'war prodigy'…though I cannot attest to that myself."

"Interesting enough," Ayrenn murmurs, with the slightest laugh bubbling in her voice. "A young mer who caused a stir in her ascent to power? I might just find a kindred spirit in that one."

Alwinarwe shoots her a dour look. "I assure you, my dear cousin, that she is most unlike you. She observes proper decorum, and displays a healthy regard for our traditions. That is to say, she doesn't try to upset them on purpose."

Ayrenn smiles. "Just what are you implying, Alwin?"

"That is for you to reflect upon," Alwinarwe sighs, and takes another sip of wine. "You are assembling the guard contingent for your travels, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Ayrenn replies, her eyes coming to rest on the battlereeve once more. "And I think she…is perfect."

Sielaire is walking down a hallway of the palace, subconsciously enjoying the warmth of sunlight pouring through tall glass windows, even as her mind still ponders on the meeting she has just left, mentally dividing their soldiers into separate divisions. They'll have to be careful not to stretch their forces too thin across the Isles, what with news of trouble brewing across the sea…

Two cool fingers slide down the exposed skin of her neck, startling Sielaire out of her musings. But her shock is quickly replaced by indignation, and she turns around with a deep scowl, ready to deliver a biting reprimand for whoever's sheer audacity–

Ah, yes. Before her stands the most audacious of all – Queen of the Blessed Isles, Ayrenn Arana Aldmeri.

A crooked smile sits on the Queen's lips as she steps forward, closing the distance between them. Sielaire stiffens when they stand nearly chest-to-chest. "You look so very attractive when you're angry," Ayrenn murmurs, and Sielaire has to hide a cough as a flush creeps to the tips of her ears.

Sielaire tears her gaze away from Ayrenn, and looks around to discover something glaringly absent. "Where are your guards?"

"I've dismissed them for the day." Ayrenn winks, then takes Sielaire by the hand and leads her down the hallway. The battlereeve thinks they're making for Ayrenn's private study, but the Queen tugs her into a balcony of a relatively secluded corridor, and Sielaire's mind goes blank when Ayrenn's lips meet hers.

Her eyes fall shut as she returns Ayrenn's second, deeper kiss, before she regains her senses and pulls away from the Queen with difficulty. "Ayrenn," Sielaire whispers, grabbing her lover's arms. "We cannot–, we're not in private."

"We're alone." Ayrenn's voice lilts in that playful note, and she isn't dissuaded, leaning in to plant more kisses on Sielaire's lips. They're short, often broken by the battlereeve in the name of propriety, but Sielaire is always coaxed back by another brush of their lips together. "I missed you, Sie," Ayrenn breathes between kisses. "How dare you leave me alone for the entire morning…"

"I had–, things to attend–" Sielaire finds it difficult to piece her words together.

"Things more important than your Queen?" Ayrenn purrs. "I'll have to issue an edict then. For Battlereeve Sielaire to never leave her Queen's side ever again."

Despite herself, Sielaire huffs in amusement. "You cannot do that."

"Oh, I can." Ayrenn's smile grows along with Sielaire's. "Just try me."

They share a quiet laugh as Ayrenn leans in again, and Sielaire smiles into her kisses, half-aware that Ayrenn is pushing her backwards, until her hip bumps into the balustrade. She cups Ayrenn's face in both hands, pressing a kiss to the Queen's waiting lips, feeling lithe fingers reaching up to twine with her own–

A cough.

Sielaire is the first to move, looking up to find the Proxy Queen standing in the balcony's doorway. She jerks away from Ayrenn in an effort to put a respectable distance between them, then clasps a fist over her heart, and bows to Alwinarwe with as much dignity as she can muster. Ayrenn is less tense than Sielaire – in fact, she doesn't bear any hint of tension at all, and instead gives her cousin a lazy smile.

"Alwin. What a surprise."

"A 'surprise', indeed," Alwinarwe replies drily, then shifts her gaze over to Sielaire, who is standing at attention. "I wish to speak with my cousin in private."

Sielaire bows her head, and leaves the balcony without a word.

Ayrenn smiles when Sielaire casts her a worried glance from behind Alwinarwe's back, and the battlereeve hesitates briefly, before Ayrenn gives her a reassuring nod. When Sielaire's footsteps have faded, Alwinarwe keeps her silence, gazing out into the distance. But even then, Ayrenn can read the disapproval on her face.

"Alwin…"

"I've heard rumours," Alwinarwe says. "But I chose not to believe them."

"Cousin, you are overthinking this–"

"Am I?" Alwin turns to face her. "Ayrenn, that crown you wear on your head – it grants you authority, but it doesn't grant you absolute freedom to do whatever you desire, to indulge in your every whim. You have a duty to the throne and your people, and you cannot afford for such…dalliances to distract you. And of all people, you chose one not even of noble blood!"

Ayrenn keeps the smile on her face. "Don't worry, Alwin. It's not like we can produce bastards between us. Not by accident, anyway."

"Ayrenn," Alwinarwe intones. "For once, be serious."

"And you are taking this too seriously. Royal affairs are not unheard of."

"You still have your reputation, your station to consider. You have duties to perform, and you cannot be impeded in any way. That includes–"

"I know, cousin. I may be young, but I am not a fool." Ayrenn catches herself when her tone grows cutting, and she takes a quiet breath to compose herself. "I know what I am doing, Alwin. And it won't stand between me and the Dominion. If people want to talk, fine. It is harmless. There's little they can say that will hurt my position." She clasps her hands together. "And I understand the 'duty' that you are concerned with. If push comes to shove…my heir shall not be of my blood. I have spoken to our cousin in Lillandril–"

"Then you are already decided." Alwin's tone is of practiced calm, but Ayrenn can hear her reproach, her dread. "This is not a mere dalliance."

"I have a contingency–"

"For an affair you are too deeply involved in."

Ayrenn takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly as she turns away from Alwinarwe. She rests her hands on the balustrade, closing her eyes briefly. "I will handle the consequences, Alwin."

A prolonged silence.

"I hope you are able to, Ayrenn."

Ayrenn has set sail for Valenwood yet again, but this time, she doesn't bring her beloved battlereeve along. Since this will be a short trip for a meeting in the Dominion's capital city, Ayrenn has decided to leave Sielaire behind, letting her stand guard over the Proxy Queen instead. That's why Sielaire is walking through the tall doors of Castle Alinor's entrance, towards the council room where Alwinarwe's attendants wait by the closed wooden doors.

She has barely taken a few more steps when the doors swing open, and Razum-dar strolls out with that distinctively casual gait. As the attendants hurry to close the doors behind him, Razum-dar's eyes brighten when they land on Sielaire, and he walks towards her with arms wide open.

"Ah, my favourite battlereeve!" He stops before her with his arms still outstretched – Sielaire suspects he is rethinking his intent of hugging her – and he settles for clasping her by the shoulders. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"And aren't you a rare sight around here."

"Oh, Raz can't afford to stay around for too long, as you well know. Cannot have the whole palace falling in love with this handsome face, can he?" Raz grins when Sielaire gives a half eye-roll. "Say, it's been a long time since we last met. How about getting some drinks at the tavern tonight?"

"Why not," Sielaire agrees, then taps on the report in her hand idly. "But first things first – is the Proxy Queen in there?"

"Yes. She's alone, and Raz thinks she'll be staying in there a little longer. Just had a meeting with this one." A sly grin grows on Razum-dar's face.

"You didn't work her up again, did you?"

Raz shrugs. "All Raz can say is, good luck." And as he starts walking away, he utters quietly, "Too bad you can't kiss this queen into submission, eh?"

Sielaire whips around to fix him with a piercing stare, and Razum-dar merely winks at her before strolling out of the palace. A faint flush gathers beneath the collar of her uniform, but she takes a breath to compose herself, before the warmth travels to her ears. She straightens her shoulders, then makes for the council room, where the attendants part the doors to allow her entry.

She strides down the long table to where Alwinarwe sits at its head, poring over a document with a deep crease on her forehead. The Proxy Queen looks up when she salutes, then accepts her report and reads it quickly.

Alwinarwe nods, glancing back at Sielaire. "Thank you, Battlereeve." But she doesn't follow the acknowledgement with a dismissal, and gestures at the seat nearest to her instead. "Please sit, if you have a moment."

Sielaire takes her place in the stiff-backed chair, aware that her discomfort doesn't stem solely from the rigid furniture. She waits patiently while Alwinarwe fixes her with a placid gaze, and sure enough, the Proxy Queen asks, "Tell me, what is your relationship with Ayrenn?"

She doesn't answer, not immediately. Politicians have a way of hiding questions within questions, and it takes some dexterity to reply in a way that doesn't offend or complicate matters. Granted, Alwinarwe's question is rather direct, and given her honourable character, Sielaire is inclined to give her a direct answer in return. But this concerns Ayrenn, and though Alwinarwe hasn't probed further into the matter, Sielaire senses that the cousins have reached a silent, if uncomfortable accord over the situation.

So why is Alwinarwe addressing it now, and with Sielaire alone?

"What do you wish to know, Your Majesty?"

"I wish to know the nature of this…personal relationship you have with my cousin, and your intent with her."

"I have no malicious intent, if that is your meaning. I have no wish to harm her, and I will never do so voluntarily."

"So you say." Alwinarwe's reply is ambiguous, and sets Sielaire even more on edge. "Now tell me, what is your relationship with her?"

Again, Sielaire hesitates, uncertain of what Alwinarwe wants. She takes a breath, and says simply, "I love her."

It is rare for Sielaire to feel her composure crack, but Alwinarwe's stern gaze coupled with her weighty confession, is nearly enough to break her cool façade.

"And that love may interfere with her ability to govern, or earn her the displeasure of the Council."

"I understand."

"Your love alone may be enough to mar her judgment. There may come a time when she decides that you are more important than her people, even the Dominion–"

"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty," Sielaire cuts in, and nearly recoils from her own disrespect. But she continues with surprising strength, "You assume that this has blinded me. It has not."

Alwinarwe seems taken aback by her interruption, brow arched dangerously, but she tilts her head in silent question.

"I love Ayrenn, and yes, it is my heart's desire to be with her – if not for eternity, then for however long our lives will allow. But I know that my duty to the Queen, to the Isles, to the Dominion comes first, above all else. If I should stand between the Queen and her people, if I were ever to impair her ability to lead, then I will withdraw." Sielaire swallows thickly, hands clutching onto the armrests as her throat tightens. "I wish only the best for my love. And if it means that I have to go, I will. Without question."

A heavy silence falls over them. Alwinarwe steeples her fingers together, never breaking eye contact with Sielaire, regarding her thoughtfully. "Your word is the only thing that I can have, for now. And I have no choice but to take it. But make no mistake, Sielaire – if I find that you're causing more harm to Ayrenn than good, I will not hesitate to take action against you. Do you understand?"

"Without a doubt."

Alwinarwe nods slowly. "Good. Now," she sighs, leaning back in her seat. She touches two fingers briefly to her temple, eye falling shut as if in pain, before she refocuses on Sielaire. "You do know that Ayrenn is looking to establish a line of succession?"

"Yes. She is eyeing the Kinship in Lillandril."

"Our cousin's clan, yes. But we've only spoken to him, and will not choose an heir any time soon. As of now, only the Kinlord knows of our plans. I trust you will not speak of this to anyone."

"Of course."

She nods again. "Ayrenn cares for you, Sielaire. So much that she already plans for a future with you. And she is still a young mer – as are you. But I trust that you will help to guide her passions in the right direction?"

"I will."

"Good," Alwinarwe says, giving a short shake of the head. "At least now, I have someone to share this headache of a cousin with."

It takes Sielaire by surprise, and she can't help but burst out in laughter.

The knock on their door is solid, and notably louder than any guard has dared before. Ayrenn turns from her desk to frown at the door, wondering who is the impolite one daring to disturb their peace – Sielaire has only just fallen asleep. But her question is quickly answered when the door swings open, and the attendant is barely able to herald the arrival of 'Proxy Queen Alwinar–' before the door is shut in his face.

Ayrenn is briefly distracted by Sielaire's awakening in their bed, then Alwinarwe snatches her full attention by marching towards her.

"Marriage, Ayrenn!" Alwinarwe's tone is quiet but sharp, almost in accusation. "You are to be wed?"

"Ah." Ayrenn's lips part in a grin. "I see you've received our invitation."

Alwinarwe opens her mouth, no doubt to give her yet another lecture, but they're both distracted when they hear another solid knock – not from the door this time, but from the bed. They look over to find Sielaire sitting up with shoulders hunched, as she rubs at the back of her head, where it'd hit against the headboard.

"No need, darling," Ayrenn says as Sielaire shuffles across the bed blearily, intending to stand and join them. "Stay there, or you might trip over yourself next."

The sleepy battlereeve mutters unintelligibly, then slumps back against the headboard.

"Ayrenn," Alwinarwe says, bringing her focus back. "Explain."

"What is there to explain? Sielaire and I will be wed next month," Ayrenn replies, matter-of-fact. They've sent a small batch of invitations to their trusted friends, with explicit instructions to keep the Queen's wedding ceremony a secret. All guests have accepted, but only Alwinarwe has bothered to travel all the way from her family home in Dusk, just to give a reply.

Obviously, for all that trouble, her reply will be a lengthy one.

"A wedding! A secret wedding, out of the blue?" Alwin huffs, utterly exasperated. "Of course, I assume you have not obtained the approval of the Court, nor have you engaged a matchmaker to ensure that all the proper documents are in order?"

"You assume correctly, my wise cousin."

Alwinarwe lets out a frustrated groan, face falling into her hands. "Ayrenn, how many times do I have to remind you? You cannot do such things however you like–"

"Of course I can." Ayrenn keeps her tone purposefully light. "I'm the Queen, remember?"

"And it's exactly because you're the Queen that you have to do this properly. But no, there you go, putting a ring on Sielaire's finger before any sort of negotiations. Thank the stars you didn't just…put a crown on her head and call it a day."

"Now that's a thought."

"Ayrenn."

Alwinarwe's voice has grown hard, and Ayrenn sighs heavily. "Alwin, I know how it looks. But proper preparations will take years, and I don't want to wait that long. We live in a time of tumult, my dear cousin. We are fighting a war in Cyrodiil. Given the way things are, the battles we'll see…" Ayrenn glances over at Sielaire, who is now fully awake and focused on her. "I don't want to be left with regrets, if we are ever parted."

Sielaire's lips twitch, just as Alwinarwe speaks, "Be that as it may, we should try to remedy the situation as best we can." She turns to the battlereeve. "Sielaire, will your parents travel to Alinor for preliminary discussions?"

"I suppose so. But…"

"But?"

Sielaire exchanges a glance with Ayrenn, her expression turning sheepish. "I'd have to inform them first."

"You haven't told your family that you are betrothed to the Queen." Alwinarwe raises her hands as if to speak further, but drops them in dismay. "Obviously the two of you are made for each other."

"Alwin," Sielaire says, and the nickname she's started using, now weighs heavy on her tongue. "I don't wish to bring my family into this just yet. As far as we know, there are still pockets of Heritance members on the Isles. I want to protect my family from any possible threat, until I can ensure their safety."

Alwinarwe lets out a slow sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The two of you…"

"Come now, Alwin. Relax." Ayrenn stands, clasping her cousin's arms. "And where are your manners! You just barged in here without even a greeting, or a word of congratulations?"

"I'm sorry," Alwinarwe says quietly. "But I can't find it in myself to do so just yet."

Ayrenn's smile falters, as Alwinarwe averts her eyes. She gives her cousin a light squeeze, then glances over at Sielaire – who lowers her gaze from Alwin, with a brooding expression on her face.

Ayrenn feels her heart clench, and hopes she hasn't made a misstep.

There is little to prepare for the ceremony, truth be told. But Alwinarwe, who has since stayed in Alinor, insists on taking extra care with the details: planning for their privacy in the palace wing where the temple is, making sure that security is on hand, that Ayrenn's dress will be simple yet stunning, and that the couple has memorised each and every step of their wedding rites. With such attention from the Proxy Queen, it is little wonder that their wedding has gone smoothly.

Ayrenn draws Sielaire into a soft kiss, clutching her wife's hands tighter as they part, and she smiles when the priest pronounces their new status as a wedded couple. She steals another kiss from Sielaire as their guests clap politely, and laughs under her breath when she hears Razum-dar go, 'My girls, finally!', only to get chastised by Alwinarwe in return.

Raz ripostes with practiced ease – the two have never stopped bickering once in the time they've known each other. Before Alwin can deliver her own retort, Ayrenn pulls her cousin off to the side, leaving Sielaire to deal with Raz and his offer to teach her a 'special Khajiiti dance', which she can perform for Ayrenn that night.

Ayrenn chuckles as Alwin huffs, "Just how you stand him, I will never understand."

"Oh, Alwin. You know he loves us in his own way."

Her cousin scoffs at the thought. "He loves aggravating me, more like." She clicks her tongue when Ayrenn kneads at the deep crease between her brows.

"Then stop letting him aggravate you," Ayrenn suggests. But when Alwin keeps frowning at Raz, who has just gotten another laugh from the guests, Ayrenn takes her by the hands and turns her away. "Alwin, listen. I want to thank you for all you've done for this wedding. For us. Honestly, I'd half expected you to…pose an objection."

Alwinarwe sighs quietly, and shakes her head. "I am still concerned, Ayrenn. And I'm not looking forward to all the work we have to do in the future. But…I'm glad you're happy." She bites on her bottom lip and glances over at Sielaire.

The battlereeve isn't as boisterous as the rest, but a giddy smile remains plastered on her face. Though she is wearing her dress uniform, she looks at ease, and even more beautiful with the joy shining in her eyes. When Sielaire turns to meet her adoring gaze, Ayrenn forgets to breathe, and is only broken out of her reverie by Alwin.

"She looks at you like you're the brightest star in the darkest night," Alwinarwe muses.

"Oh?" Ayrenn smiles at her cousin. "Lost and desperate for direction?" She giggles when Alwin shoots her a long-suffering look.

Sielaire pries herself away from the guests to approach the cousins, and is surprised when Alwinarwe clutches onto her arm, drawing her over to stand by Ayrenn.

"I apologise for not saying this sooner." Alwin's voice is soft, sincere. "But – congratulations. May your marriage be everlasting, and your love stay soft and strong.

Ayrenn's smile grows brighter. "Thank you."

Alwinarwe seems to think it over, then draws her cousin into an embrace. Ayrenn wraps both arms around Alwin gladly, and holds her dearest cousin tight, cherishing Alwin's open expression of love.

When Sielaire emerges from the lavatory, she finds Ayrenn already dressed in a soft nightgown. Her wife turns around and smiles at her, waving her forward. As Sielaire approaches, Ayrenn reaches for the music box on the dresser behind her, and a soothing melody of crystal clear chimes fill the serene night air. She raises both arms to specific positions, and Sielaire catches on – moving forward to meet her dance partner. She circles an arm around Ayrenn's waist, as Ayrenn rests an arm around her shoulders. Their hands meet, fingers entwining, and they ease smoothly into a slow dance.

They exchange no words, soft gazes locked as they glide over the floor in perfect harmony, a dreamlike cadence that draws to a gentle close with the first song. As the second begins, they drift to a pause when Ayrenn presses her lips to Sielaire's softly, and they share a smile before their feet start to move again.

"You know, Sie," Ayrenn says. "It's only been a few years since I've returned. Since I've met you. And yet, somehow, it feels like a century has passed."

"A lot has happened."

"Yes. And you are the most important thing that's happened to me." Ayrenn smiles when Sielaire kisses her knuckles. "We still have a long road ahead of us, dearest. But I feel as if…I have all that I need right now."

Sielaire chuckles softly. "Do you really?"

Ayrenn hums. "With you, Kinlady Sielaire, I can have everything I want."

A gentle smile curves Sielaire's lips, and she clasps Ayrenn's hand to her heart. "Then wait just a little longer, my beloved. And I shall give you the world."

A/N: Well, this one's a little more disjointed between sections, but I've been dying to write Alwinarwe since she was revealed, and I wanna establish these three as a family unit before I move on from here. She'll be more involved in a linear arc (like Wanderlust), that will delve into their future - Ayrenn and Sielaire learning to rule together, having a family, and so on.

So yeeee I can't wait ehehehehe