It's still dark – too early to rise from bed, her subconscious knew. But the slight fidgeting to her right catches Sielaire before she drifts blissfully back to sleep. She remains still, eyes closed, feeling Ayrenn tug the covers farther from her body, exposing Sielaire's side to the night air. Already used to it, Sielaire doesn't bother trying to pull the duvet back, and instead lets her mind go blank as Ayrenn settles…for a while. Sielaire hears her wife take a deep breath, then shift around again. Rolling herself over, Sielaire drapes an arm loosely over Ayrenn, whose fidgeting subsides. She snuggles closer to Sielaire, pulling the duvet back over her wife's body. And it's with Ayrenn's arm wrapped around her waist, that Sielaire falls back into a dreamless sleep.
When she wakes again, sunlight is shining through the curtains, casting a comfortable glow over the room. Sielaire blinks slowly, shaking off the weight of deep sleep, as her gaze comes to rest on Ayrenn, still huddled close. Her mind rouses further with each detail she takes in – the tousled mess of pale blonde hair spilling over the pillow, the thin gown that has slipped down Ayrenn's shoulders from her rolling around in bed, the red sleep mark spanning from the corner of her mouth and up her cheek.
Yes, the love of her life looks as divine as ever.
Sielaire smiles, combing back the hair covering Ayrenn's face, and touches their heads together, fingers tracing down the slope of Ayrenn's bare shoulder. Despite her insistence, Ayrenn must've been exhausted last night, much like Sielaire. In addition to her duties as monarch, she's had to undergo ceremonial rites along with Sielaire, and toiled over the wedding's details with Alwinarwe, up to the very last minute. They were left drained on their wedding night, and hadn't much heart to consummate their marriage right then. So the night was spent with a stroll around the island, before they lay down on green grass to gaze at the stars, until Sielaire noticed her wife's faint snoring and carried her back into the house.
She fancied seeing tired creases around Ayrenn's eyes as she lay her wife in bed, but under the morning light, Sielaire can see nothing but that same youthfulness, even in her bleary awakening. Blue eyes come to rest upon Sielaire, as she runs her fingers gently through blonde tresses, feeling a lazy caress on the exposed skin of her lower back.
"Sleep well?" Sielaire murmurs.
Ayrenn's lips curve as she hums, then nestles her head under Sielaire's chin, breathing deeply against her neck. Sielaire lets her eyes fall shut, gently stroking Ayrenn's head, dozing peacefully until she hears an indistinct mumble.
"Hm?"
"Hungry," Ayrenn mumbles.
"We can go back to the palace." Sielaire smiles at the soft whine. "Or – there's a stocked pantry here…"
Ayrenn gives a throaty laugh and pushes her onto her back, gifting a languid kiss upon her lips. "You're just precious, you know that?"
"If you say so."
"I do say so." Ayrenn kisses her again, and again, each longer and deeper than the last. Her hand travels down Sielaire's side to clutch at her thigh, and pull it to the side.
"Renn, the time," Sielaire reminds her, even as she wraps her leg around Ayrenn.
"We'll make time. Or–?" Ayrenn sits up further, cocking her head. "Can you wait?"
Sielaire takes a slow breath, eyes roving up Ayrenn's body, to where her gown has slipped even lower from her shoulders, exposing a generous bit of chest. She looks into Ayrenn's sultry gaze, that knowing smirk, and sinks her teeth into the bait.
"No."
Thanks to Ayrenn's foresight, the wedded couple has been declared indisposed for the day following their wedding. They spend the whole morning in their private lodge – though with less time in bed, and longer hours lounging at the dining table, Sielaire listening to Ayrenn's ideas of sprucing the house up to her admittedly-royal tastes, and how they'll spend time swimming or fishing by the shore. Time passes with idle chatter and gentle caresses, and as the sun rises ever higher in the sky, they finally leave the little haven behind and return to the palace.
First, they meet with Alwinarwe – who greets them with a pleasant smile, which then curls into a light-hearted huff, as she turns down Ayrenn's offer of recounting all that had transpired the night before. They make their way to the dining hall together, and there they wait patiently for their guests to arrive for the luncheon.
When Sielaire's family enters the hall, they exchange customary greetings with the royals, before the formal air is broken by Rilenya running forward to embrace her sister.
"Sie!" Rilenya laughs, squeezing Sielaire tight before she draws back and teases, "Or should I say, 'Your Grace'?" She raises her voice into a fluttery pitch typical of a courtier, then giggles when Sielaire rolls her eyes and pushes her sister back in jest.
"Don't," Sielaire warns her, before turning to embrace her mother as well.
"Look at you," Lirinwe says, near breathless as she lifts her gaze to Sielaire's crown. "You have no idea how proud I am of you."
"I think I have some idea," Sielaire replies.
"Mom nearly cried during the ceremony," Rilenya informs her. "Can you imagine? Making a mess of yourself at a royal wedding?"
"Oh hush." Lirinwe pries her eyes away from the crown and cups Sielaire's face, laughing softly to herself. "A royal wedding, I still can't believe it. Of all the people to elevate this family, it is the one who's always scoffed at my dreams."
"Of course she scoffed, mom. You weren't aiming high enough!" Rilenya says. "Why just be nobility, when you can seduce the queen and take the throne for yourself?"
Sielaire raises her brows. "I did not seduce her."
"Oh, she most certainly did." Ayrenn wears a smirk as she joins them, leaving Sielaire's father and brother to speak with Alwin. "Walking around in camp, all sweaty and flushed from training, with her arms bare for the whole world to see? I'd say it was on purpose–" Ayrenn gives a crude giggle-snort when Sielaire pinches her nose tight, eliciting a shocked gasp from her mother.
"Sie!" Lirinwe slaps at Sielaire's wrist, but only receives a droll stare in reply. "Unhand her! She is the Queen–, the Empress–"
"And I'm her wife," Sielaire says flatly, letting Ayrenn go. A fond smile breaks through her poker face when Ayrenn pecks her on the lips, then leads a flustered Lirinwe over to the table. Sielaire follows behind them, listening to Ayrenn compliment Lirinwe's new dress as they approach the dining table together, where the rest have taken their seats. But she has barely begun to sit down, when the doors are cracked open to admit an attendant, who announces the arrival of an unexpected guest.
Sielaire shares a surprised glance with Ayrenn, who rises from her seat just as Razum-dar strolls in, and sweeps smoothly into a bow.
"A very good afternoon to you, distinguished friends," Raz purrs, straightening himself with a flourish. He walks forward to meet Ayrenn – and Sielaire notices a wriggling lump in the buttoned-up front of his black coat.
"Ah, kitten," he says, clasping Ayrenn's hands in his own. "Raz is sorry for not showing up after the ceremony last night. He was very busy, you understand."
"Of course, Raz."
"But he is here now, and he has gifts for you." Razum-dar looks at Sielaire with a knowing glint in his eye. He unfastens the first two buttons of his coat, and reaches in for the moving, mewling lump.
Sielaire's eyes grow wide when Raz pulls out a fluffy white and grey-striped kitten, with the roundest green eyes that melt her heart in an instant.
"Oh, Raz," Ayrenn sighs as Sielaire takes the kitten reverently from him. "Not another one."
"Yes, another one. He knows how much Sielaire loves them, so he got her a new one," Raz says proudly, with hands on his hips. "Oh, this one is still young, but don't worry. Raz has already spent the last few weeks rubbing its little bum, feeding it, teaching it manners and rules and everything. So you don't have to worry about a naughty little kitten running about the palace."
"Other than you?" Ayrenn says drily.
"Other than Raz."
"Thank you, Raz." Sielaire says – which is quite a feat in itself, given how absorbed in her new gift she is. As she fiddles with the kitten trying to climb onto her dress, Raz picks out a rectangular box from his pocket, handing it over to Ayrenn.
"For this, Ayrenn, you might want to turn away from dearest Alwinarwe before you open it." He winks at the Proxy Queen, who squints at him from where she sits at the table.
"Whatever could this be," Ayrenn muses loudly enough for Alwin to hear, as she and Raz turn their backs to her, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Sielaire joins them as well, peering over their shoulders as Ayrenn lifts the lid, revealing a sleek, black enamel…handle? Both mer tilt their heads curiously as Ayrenn takes it, examining the elaborate golden filigree of eagles in flight.
"Careful." Raz adjusts the handle, so Ayrenn is holding it horizontally across her palm. "Now, flick the catch on the side."
Ayrenn thumbs the catch, and wicked sharp blades snap out from both ends of the handle, with a distinctive fwing.
"Is that a knife?" Alwinarwe says when she hears it. "You gave her a knife as a wedding gift?"
"No," Raz drawls, deliberately unconvincing. "It is a beautiful…miniature sword." He smiles when Alwin sighs audibly.
"Raz, this…it's the one we saw in Rimmen, isn't it?" Ayrenn flips the dagger between her fingers easily. "This design is different, but its make is exactly the same. I wanted this, but didn't have the gold on me to buy it…"
"And this one remembers how heartbroken you were. So he had one custom-made for you."
"That was over a decade ago." Ayrenn sheathes the dagger's blades, and smiles at Raz. She bends down to place a kiss on his cheek and hugs him, murmuring a short sentence in Khajiiti.
Razum-dar raises his brows in surprise, gaze softening as he embraces his old friend, tail swaying behind him when he lets go with a faintly sheepish expression. "You're welcome, kitten," he replies, scratching at his head. Then Raz turns his gaze towards the table, eyes coming alight with glee. "Ah, Alwin! Raz doesn't want you to feel left out!"
"Lucky for you, I do not," Alwinarwe deadpans as he pads over to her.
"Here, he has a gift for you too!" Raz plucks a small vial from one of his numerous pockets. "Raz knows you like perfumes."
"It wouldn't happen to be a Khajiiti perfume, would it," Alwin replies, still in that flat tone. "One that will attract all the cats in the neighbourhood?"
"Of course not. If Raz had such a perfume, he'd give it to Sielaire. Not you."
Ayrenn chuckles along with the family, as Sielaire blushes and turns her head back, getting a gentle peck on her lips. Smiling and lowering her gaze from Ayrenn, Sielaire watches the little kitten pawing at her hair and chin, mewing loudly up at her.
"Promise that'll be the last one for a while?" Ayrenn asks.
Sielaire huffs. "Promise."
Raz had to leave before they started the luncheon, and Alwinarwe had duties to attend after, so the wedded couple was left alone with Sielaire's family, showing them around the palace grounds and introducing the nobles they came across. After an excellent dinner in the evening, the family took their leave for the day, and retired to the empty townhouse in Alinor that Ayrenn had provided for their short stay in the capital.
It's been a relaxing day, and a much needed one – they will return to their duties tomorrow, and no doubt be kept busier for a while yet. In fact, they have been discussing their schedules and the numerous petitions lined up for their attention, when someone knocks on the door of Ayrenn's study.
"Come in, dear," Ayrenn calls, already knowing who is outside. Sure enough, Alwinarwe enters the room, with an elegant leather valise in her hands. "Alwin, you've had a long day. Why aren't you resting yet?"
"Because I haven't given your gifts." She raises the valise.
"Oh, a luggage! What a nice thought," Ayrenn croons. "We can use that for our royal tour!"
"My dear cousin, I appreciate your keeping the suspense, but please. Not so dense." Alwin sighs and sets the valise down on Ayrenn's table. She releases the clasps and lifts the lid, pulling out a beautiful long coat, dyed a deep grey. "This is for you, Ayrenn. And yes, it's for your tour."
"That looks wonderful," Ayrenn gushes, slipping it on with Alwin's help. She fastens the silver clasps, and it's obvious that the coat has been tailor-made for the monarch, fitting her shoulders and torso perfectly while the fabric flows smoothly down to her knees. "And it's so comfortable too. It's perfect, Alwin. Just like you," Ayrenn coos, pecking her cousin on both cheeks, before squeezing her tightly in a hug.
Alwinarwe looks less than convinced by the compliment, but accepts her gratitude nonetheless. Then she reaches into the valise again and pulls out a dark green leather jerkin, handing it to Sielaire.
"Feel it," Alwin instructs, guiding Sielaire's fingers so she holds the leather between her fingertips, and her eyes widen in surprise.
"It's very sturdy," Sielaire comments.
"There's a very fine mesh of quicksilver woven beneath the leather," Alwin explains as she puts the jerkin on Sielaire as well. "I know you're still a soldier at heart. This will protect you whenever that one–" She nods at Ayrenn. "–drags you into trouble again."
"Alwin, we're going on a tour," Ayrenn laughs. "I don't think we'd have much chance to get ourselves into trouble."
"Yes, but Sielaire has told me all about the adventures you had during your honeymoon. So I thought it prudent not to take any chances with you."
"Thank you, Alwin," Sielaire says before Ayrenn can retort. "I'd say I'll put it to good use, but I'd rather not."
"That is good to hear." Alwin gives her a smile, then looks pointedly at Ayrenn, who rolls her eyes fondly.
"Speaking of our trip," Ayrenn drawls, nudging at Sielaire. "Don't you have a favour to ask of Alwin dearest?"
"Oh." Sielaire walks to the fireplace, and scoops up the smallest furball curled up beside the fire. The kitten wiggles in Sielaire's hands and yawns as she carries it over, and it peers up at Alwinarwe curiously when Sielaire holds it up. "Would you mind caring for this one while we're gone?"
Alwin raises a brow. "Couldn't you ask an attendant to do it? Or your family?"
"It's still young. And we thought you'd like to have it as a companion while we're away."
"Come on, Alwin. It's been years, and I've never seen you play with a single cat around the palace," Ayrenn says.
"I've never bothered with them. But now it seems I'll have to, won't I?" Alwin sighs again, taking the kitten gingerly into her own hands.
"Don't worry," Sielaire assures her. "You won't have much trouble with her. Winnie's usually well-behaved."
"…Winnie," Alwin repeats. "You named this kitten…'Winnie'." She stares at the couple, obviously on the verge of yet another sigh. "It's not because I am–"
"It is because you're the one who'll be taking care of it," Ayrenn confirms cheekily.
"How do I already know you're the one who named it?" Alwin replies, holding the kitten to her chest when it attempts to crawl out of her grasp.
"Your sharp, flawless intuition?"
Alwin nods slowly. "I suppose it's a good complement to my infinite patience."
And it is Alwinarwe, with her infinite patience, who sticks by the royal couple's side for the busy months that follow, taking on most of the responsibility in governing the Summerset Isles, while Ayrenn and Sielaire deals with the rest of Tamriel from their seat in Alinor. In the future, they will split their time between Alinor's throne and the Ruby Throne in Cyrodiil – but since Ayrenn has decreed that the province shall be rebuilt before the throne room, for the sake of the people's welfare, that future may not come too soon yet.
Still, they manage affairs well from the Alinor palace, and through the long months, they're able to guide the slow rebuilding of Tamriel. At the same time, the royal couple receives numerous invitations from the various provinces, looking to host their visit during their tour around Tamriel. The influx of information and obligations is neverending, and at times, it seems to pile on faster than they're able to resolve each issue.
For Sielaire, it's nearly suffocating – the weight of the crown is a hundred times heavier than the rank of battlereeve. But she learns and adapts, with no small amount of help from Ayrenn, who is accustomed to such a lifestyle, and even paces Sielaire so she won't be overwhelmed.
Despite Ayrenn's apparent ease, however, Sielaire does pay attention to her wife as well – no matter how the Empress makes it seem, she is still a mer beneath that indomitable façade. So it worries Sielaire when she finds Ayrenn standing alone in the garden terrace at night, both hands resting on the balustrade as she gazes quietly out at the Isle.
Walking up behind her, Sielaire wraps Ayrenn in a firm embrace, kissing her on the cheek. "You'll catch a cold like this," she murmurs, rubbing at Ayrenn's arms, left exposed by the thin shift she wears.
Ayrenn hums a single note, then rests her head against Sielaire's, letting out a slow breath.
"Tired?" Sielaire asks, and she nods. "You look…strained. Sure you don't want to get away?"
"Yes," Ayrenn replies quietly. "I'd like to stay grounded for a while."
"You have been grounded for a while. We both have," Sielaire points out, getting a soft chuckle from her wife.
"Yes." Ayrenn closes her eyes briefly, running her fingers over Sielaire's arm. "The last time we were there, in our own little paradise… Would you believe it made me want to run away again?"
"Hardly a rare occurrence," Sielaire says, getting a louder laugh this time.
"You have a point." Ayrenn breathes in, and exhales again. "But the last time, it was…serious, I think. I wanted to just leave. Steal you away in the night, and make a life away from the Isles. Let Alwin govern the Empire instead."
"She'd sooner set up bounties for you than take the Ruby Throne in your stead."
Ayrenn laughs again. "That's true. Even she knows what the Throne entails."
That's not what I meant, Sielaire wants to say, but Ayrenn seems to have her own troubles in mind. Turning around in Sielaire's hold, Ayrenn rests both arms around her neck, gazing at her quietly.
"Sometimes, I feel guilty for piling these burdens onto your shoulders as well," Ayrenn whispers.
"I barely feel the weight when I'm with you," Sielaire says, a gentle smile on her lips.
"Please. Your frown when you sit in the throne is telling enough."
A moment's thought, then Sielaire relents with a sigh. "Maybe I do feel it. But it does come with its benefits, does it not?" Her smile turns playful at Ayrenn's curious look. "I get to eat the richest food, wear the fanciest clothes, live in a luxurious palace…" She pulls Ayrenn even closer, so they stand chest-to-chest. "Sleep with the most exquisite woman in Tamriel…"
Ayrenn throws her head back in a laugh, slapping at Sielaire's shoulder. "Oh, your tongue is getting more delightful, my love."
"Is it," Sielaire breathes, leaning in to catch her in a slow kiss. When they part, Ayrenn's gaze has grown soft, the tension in her face fallen away – forgotten, for the moment. "I've said it before – I would do anything to be with you. I have no regrets, Renn, and neither should you."
Ayrenn stares at her for a long moment, then sighs through a wan smile, resting their foreheads together. "It'll take time to believe, but…I will."
Feeling an ache in her chest, Sielaire gives Ayrenn a moment of solace, rubbing soothingly at the small of her back, until she lifts her eyes to meet Sielaire's. Ayrenn brushes her thumb over the scar on Sielaire's mouth, and kisses her softly – a promise, a simple expression of love.
A/N: And...with that, I've set the background for 'Aldmeri'. There'll be a major timeskip in the next chapter, where we'll arrive at the main reason why I started this arc, and shit will get a little real...very briefly. (No ouchies, promise ;D)