Though Astaire's eyes have long fluttered shut in peaceful slumber, her hand still clutches at Sielaire's fingers, as if she's reluctant to let her mother go. Not that Sielaire has any intention of leaving just yet – she continues patting gently at the comforter covering the girl, as Ayrenn hums the last stanza to an old song of the moons and seas. Her wife's reluctance is understandable, of course; but when Ayrenn hums the last note, voice fading subtly away, she doesn't give Sielaire time to change her mind.
"Let's go, love."
Sielaire grimaces and makes a short, unwilling sound in her throat. "But she might wake up again. You know she often wakes in the middle of the night."
"Yes, and she'll have to get used to waking up alone."
"You sound so cold."
"No, my dear. You're just overprotective." Ayrenn smiles at the slight pout on Sielaire's lips. "Come on. Let's leave the little one to her rest."
Ayrenn rises from the bed and, with two short puffs, extinguishes the candles on her side. She turns to watch Sielaire plant a gentle kiss on Astaire's forehead, before standing and pulling up the wooden rails of the crib. When the rails click into place, the inscribed metallic joints emit a faint green glow, then dies away – a simple spell that ensures the rails remain immovable until an adult dissipates it. Still, Sielaire checks the rails one last time, before she blows out the two remaining candles, allowing the darkness of night to fall over the room.
But as Ayrenn walks to the adjoining door to their own bedroom, she pauses and looks back at Sielaire, who's still standing by the crib.
"Sie."
"It's very dark."
Ayrenn laughs under her breath, shaking her head. Since Astaire will be a year old in just a few weeks, they've decided – with advice from the nanny – to get the girl accustomed to sleeping alone in her own room. While the room beside theirs was being converted into the princess's chambers, they'd soaked up every lesson on keeping the baby safe even when she's alone, dealing with a child unable to adjust, and managing separation anxiety – theirs, and the girl's.
But it seems Sielaire is having trouble putting that last lesson to practice.
"It's dark because we put out the candles," Ayrenn explains needlessly. She raises a hand to beckon Sielaire over, and her wife casts one last glance at Astaire before following Ayrenn back into their bedroom. They leave the adjoining door open, just to keep watch in case the girl gets into any trouble or makes a fuss.
Sielaire plops onto their bed, lying on her back as she sighs, "I'm worrying too much."
"Yes, you are." Ayrenn yawns, passing by their study table to set a glass paperweight on some documents. "Astaire's been sleeping in her own crib just fine. A new room won't throw her off too much."
"You never know." Sielaire slips under the covers, which she holds up for Ayrenn to climb in as well. "My sister refused to sleep alone, and bunked in my room until she was eight."
"Must've been quite the struggle," Ayrenn humours her, draping an arm over Sielaire's chest. She smiles when her wife glances at the open doorway – it seems Sielaire may need a little distraction. "Oh, that reminds me – we haven't decided on Astaire's birthday present yet."
"What can we get her that the others won't?"
The reminder brings a sigh to her lips, and Ayrenn snuggles into Sielaire's neck. Astaire's first birthday celebration will be a grand and public affair, as is the tradition for royal heirs. Ayrenn can barely remember her own, but she has no doubt it involved a long line of nobles fawning over her with opulent gifts. Not to mention a boring ceremony where the heir receives the blessing of Auri-El, but she wagers it'll be less tedious than the nobles.
"We can get her…a cat doll."
"She has plenty of real cats already," Sielaire reminds her, fingertips grazing through Ayrenn's hair. "Besides, Alwin's getting a doll for her."
"Is she now? Damn Alwin," Ayrenn drawls, making Sielaire's ear twitch as she caresses its tip. "You have any ideas?"
"I was planning to make her a small cake myself. Like the ones I had when I was young."
"Oh, that's good. Shall I put in an order for more apples–?"
Ayrenn's tease is cut short, the pair freezing in place when they hear a soft call of 'mama' from Astaire's room. She holds Sielaire down when her wife starts to move. They wait for a while, ears pricked for any further sounds or movement from the girl. But the moments pass in silence, and Ayrenn exhales in relief.
"She must be dreaming–"
"Ma…ma?"
Damn.
"No," Ayrenn murmurs, still holding Sielaire down when she tries to get up. "Remember what the nanny said – let her adjust by herself first."
Sielaire sighs quietly, her frustration and unease apparent. Her hand moves to Ayrenn's shoulder, stroking her wife gently in an effort to keep herself calm, when Astaire's voice floats through the doorway again, louder this time.
"Mama!"
Ayrenn winces inside, while Sielaire's grip on her shoulder tightens at the anxious pitch in Astaire's voice. 'It'll be difficult,' the nanny had warned them – and as if to prove that very point, Astaire breaks into her first wail.
"Mama," Astaire calls from her own crib, where she has been left all alone without her mothers' constant company at night.
Catching the stray thought, Ayrenn quells it as her frown grows deeper, listening to Astaire's sobs and cries grow louder. One option is to leave Astaire to her tears – it's a common method of letting a baby get used to sleeping alone. This, however, requires a lot of restraint from the parents; preferably parents who do not have separation anxiety themselves.
"Mama…"
And Sielaire is not one of them.
"Damn it all," Sielaire growls. She pulls herself away from Ayrenn with a forceful tug, and rolls out of bed quickly. Lighting a candle on the nightstand with a spark of magic from her fingers, Sielaire stalks into her daughter's room while Ayrenn pushes herself up with a sigh.
As she crawls out of bed, Ayrenn can hear Sielaire cooing softly to the crying girl, "It's okay, little Star. Mama's here."
A smile parting her lips despite the situation, Ayrenn stands and stretches her body, then turns to watch Sielaire carry the girl back into their room, rocking Astaire in her arms as she sings little reassurances into the child's ear. Ayrenn walks over to them, running a hand down Astaire's barely ruffled hair. The little one, who has pressed her face into Sielaire's shoulder, gives another whine that soon disappears behind another sob. Her tiny fingers have dug into Sielaire's shirt, clutching tightly onto her mother.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Sielaire coos, rubbing Astaire's back soothingly. "Mama's got you. See? Mommy is here too."
She slowly coaxes Astaire from her shoulder, and guides the girl up to sit in the crook of her arm, looking at Ayrenn through weepy eyes.
"Aw, look at you," Ayrenn croons, nudging her cheek. "You're a right little mess, Star."
Astaire hiccups and coughs between sobs, as Ayrenn moves away to retrieve a handkerchief, with which she wipes the tears from the girl's face. But when Ayrenn tweaks her nose at the end, Astaire doesn't give her usual giggle or smile. She just hugs Sielaire about the neck again, and buries her head in her mama's shoulder.
"It's like she knows which mother wanted to leave her alone," Sielaire deadpans. And though Ayrenn gives her a flick on the forehead as a chide, she feels a twinge of guilt deep in her chest.
"I tried something new, and it didn't work, alright?" Ayrenn protests, tossing the handkerchief onto the nearest dresser. Her irritation must have showed, because Sielaire is quick to press a kiss to her lips.
"I know."
Ayrenn sighs, glancing at the girl clinging onto Sielaire. "I suppose there's no leaving her alone tonight."
"That'd be for the best. Think we gave her quite a scare."
As Sielaire moves towards their bed, Ayrenn nips into Astaire's room to grab her small pillow and bolster, and the gryphon doll that Astaire loves hugging to sleep at night. When she returns with items in hand, she finds Sielaire sitting on the bed with Astaire in her lap, keeping up a one-sided conversation with the girl in a sing-song voice. Ayrenn sets Astaire's things in the middle of the bed, then Sielaire has to coax the young one into lying down – Astaire still has a tight grip on her mother's shirt, and is only willing to let go after a lot of coaxing and singing.
"Think the change was too sudden for her," Ayrenn muses, rubbing Astaire's stomach in circles, and smiling when the girl looks up at her. "I'm sorry, little Star."
Astaire sniffs, then gives a smile when Ayrenn taps her on the nose.
The audience chamber is deathly quiet. Two soldiers stand at attention before the dais – captains of the Wings who have delivered their report, and are waiting for the axe to fall. Head resting on the tips of her fingers, Sielaire leans on the armrest of her throne, feeling an ache grow between her temples as she wrangles with the anger rising in her.
"Sunhold was under siege by the Maormer, and yet you – the both of you – made the same decision to divert from your orders, and help a single town instead?"
It isn't a question, but they guessed – rightly so – that it is safer to answer instead of keeping quiet. "Yes, ma'am."
They've reverted to 'ma'am', from their customary 'Your Grace' – a sign that they currently regard Sielaire not as High Kinlady, but as their commander. As it should be.
"You split off half the contingent I sent to reinforce Sunhold's defenses, just to fall for the Maormer's obvious decoy. Do you have any idea–!" Sielaire has raised her voice into a shout, as she stands from the throne. "How many lives were lost because you decided my orders were not important!"
"With all due respect, ma'am," one captain spoke, voice thin and nervous. "The lives we saved in town were not any less important than those in Sunhold."
"No, they are not. And you helped them," Sielaire concedes. "But that does not excuse the fact that your actions were downright foolish!" She takes a step forward, and her soldiers nearly shrink in their armour. "There is a full garrison stationed at the Proxy Queen's estate in Dusk, just under a day's ride away. You could've sent a messenger to muster their forces, instead of staying to act as heroes, and ignoring the fact that the main Maormer force was trying to invade our major port!"
Neither of the captains dare to look her in the eyes, incensed as Sielaire is. And with her glare fixed on them, not to mention the anger that has overtaken her mind, Sielaire scarcely notices that the side door has cracked open.
"They would have succeeded had the Empress not sent an extra fleet as reinforcement, and your own comrades have died in their charge because their ranks were too thin. You had no right to gamble with the fate of an entire city–!"
"Mama."
The young voice shocks Sielaire out of her tirade, and she turns her gaze to find Astaire standing beside the dais, looking up at her mother and blissfully unaware of the tension in the chamber. Sielaire opens her mouth wordlessly, trying to recompose herself in front of her daughter, and she frowns when Earilas walks in behind the child.
"I apologise for the interruption, Your Grace." Earilas holds a fist to his chest and bows deeply. "But the princess was on the verge of tears when I refused to let her in."
Sielaire growls quietly. This is not the time. Still, she shakes off her mood and walks down to Astaire, lifting the girl into her arms – a big smile appears on Astaire's face as she does so.
"Where is her nanny?" Sielaire asks.
"On the way, I expect. As always," Earilas replies, daring to let a small smirk shine through, despite witnessing Sielaire's wrath from the corner of the chamber where he'd stood guard. He looks the two captains over. "Shall I take over, ma'am?"
Sielaire lets out a breath, turning her eyes back to the captains as well. "Yes. The both of you are hereby demoted to lieutenant. Dismissed."
The soldiers take their demotion stoically, and snap sharp salutes before following Earilas out of the audience chambers. Sielaire remains within, standing in place until the door is shut with an audible thud, and heaves a sigh.
"Your timing was simply atrocious, Astaire." She regards the girl in her arms seriously, though Astaire only smiles and plays with a lock of her mother's dark red hair. "But I didn't scare you, did I?"
Astaire babbles in reply, and Sielaire mirrors her smile. Carrying the girl up to the dais, Sielaire settles into the throne and adjusts Astaire comfortably in her lap. "And you really have to stop this, little Star. You can't keep running off on your own to find me or Ayrenn. You might hurt yourself, or someone bad might catch you."
A heavy reminder, but Astaire misses its importance, contenting herself by playing with the royal signet on her mother's finger.
"Yes, that's our crest. See?" Sielaire leans forward, and guides Astaire's fingers to brush over signet ring. "This is an eagle, and above it is a star. Like you."
"Sah," Astaire repeats.
"One day, you'll wear this ring, and sit in this throne. You're our heir, little one. Do you understand?" Sielaire smiles when Astaire tugs on the ring, then loses interest and leans back into her mother. "But you won't have to worry about it for a long while. Just take your time and grow up well, alright?"
Just as Astaire cocks her head and struggles to stand in Sielaire's lap, the side door opens to admit the royal nanny, who looks out of breath and utterly relieved to find Astaire with her mother.
"Oh, I am very, very sorry, Your Grace!" Caralisse sweeps into a deep bow before Sielaire. "I merely took a step away to replace the princess's toys, and when I turned around, she was gone!"
"This is the third time now, Caralisse," Sielaire reminds her.
"Yes, Your Grace. And I am truly sorry. I am trying to improve, I swear!"
"Make sure you do. I don't like the idea of losing my daughter," she says, and Caralisse bows her head in regret.
Sielaire eyes the younger mer – in truth, she is not much younger than Sielaire, but older than Ayrenn. The previous nanny – an old matron who is now retired – had recommended Caralisse for the position, citing a great knack for bonding with the children she cares for. And though Astaire does seem to love Caralisse, her caretaker has some obvious trouble in keeping track of her.
"Maybe we should get that anklet for Astaire," Sielaire suggests. "The type which alerts you when she strays too far away."
"An excellent idea, Your Grace. I shall have one for her by tomorrow." Caralisse gives a gracious smile and bows again. "Shall I take Astaire now?"
"Yes." Sielaire rises from her seat and hands Astaire to Caralisse, giving the girl a quick peck on her hand. "But remember – bring her back to the room earlier tonight."
"Of course, Your Grace."
As the sun starts its descent in the sky, Sielaire sets her tasks down for the day and goes off in search for Ayrenn. She finds her wife in the open field behind the castle, clad in elegant and lightweight hunting leathers, riding on horseback with a bow in her hands.
Sielaire joins the group of Altmer and Nord attendants waiting by the side, and watches as Ayrenn rises from her saddle and takes aim, firing an arrow that lands neatly in the farthest target, just on the border of the bullseye. The entourage standing behind Sielaire breaks into polite applause, then falls quiet again when the Nord ambassador takes his turn – following Ayrenn's path around the field and letting his arrow fly. Though his aim is poorer, and his arrow stabs at the edge of the same target, the attendants clap again – this time with a few Nords making friendly jabs at their ambassador, who has ridden back to them.
Looking away from the display of Nord camaraderie, Sielaire smiles at Ayrenn, who dismounts her horse and hops over to peck her on the cheek. Sielaire sweeps back the bangs that have escaped Ayrenn's ponytail, tucking them behind an ear, as the Nord ambassador approaches them.
"As I've said, Your Majesty. My aim with the bow is a far cry from my skill with the blade," he laments, rubbing at his full beard sheepishly.
"Don't sell yourself short. You have much better aim than when I first held a bow. At least you hit the target. My arrow landed in my distant cousin's rear end."
Sielaire bites on her bottom lip to refrain from bursting into a loud and hearty laugh akin to the Nord ambassador's.
"Surely you jest!"
"That is what my cousin wished, as well. But alas."
"A-ha! Again, I am very glad to find the Empress so full of humour," the ambassador says, with a polite bow of his head. Then he turns to Sielaire, examining her quickly. "And this must be the High Kinlady."
Sielaire returns his formal bow. "You must be Ambassador Hroldar."
"None other." He smiles – but his gaze briefly turns sharp as he regards her in silence. "I have heard plenty of tales about you, Your Grace. Tales of your elegance, beauty…and prowess in combat. If we have the time, it would be an honour to cross swords with you."
Sielaire fights back a sigh – his invitation is hardly the first she's received from Nord delegates. Her reputation in Skyrim is either famous or infamous, depending on each individual's opinion, but the one consensus is this – the warrior who had delivered the killing blow in the Ebonheart Pact's dying throes, is a fearsome one indeed. Naturally, in recognition of her skill, the Nords seem to have reached an unspoken agreement to duel her whenever they have the chance – non-lethally, of course. But Sielaire is tiring of their…enthusiasm.
"The honour is mine," Sielaire replies politely, trying to ignore the eager gleam in Hroldar's eyes.
Ayrenn bids farewell to Hroldar for the day, then hands her bow and quiver to her attendants as the Nord entourage takes their leave. "I told you, Sie," she says, keeping her voice low. "They won't stop until you're dead."
"Then perhaps I should stage my death soon."
Ayrenn chuckles, turning to face her. "Were you looking for me?"
"Yes. We have our date tonight, remember?"
"Oh, yes! I'm sorry, dear. With Hroldar around, everything else just slipped my mind. He's very…rambunctious." Ayrenn fidgets with her hands, drifting off in thought before looking up at the sky. "It's getting late. I'll just head back for a wash, then–"
"It's alright. There's no rush." Sielaire takes Ayrenn by the hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as they walk back to the palace. "Besides, there's still some time before Caralisse brings Astaire back to us."
"If she hasn't lost the girl, that is," Ayrenn laughs.
"She lost track of Astaire again today."
"I know." Ayrenn shoots her an impish smile when Sielaire looks at her curiously. "I ran across Astaire in the palace. How do you think she found her way to the audience chamber?"
"Slowly, Star," Sielaire warns the girl trying to tug her hand from her mother's hold, in an attempt to run ahead by herself. Despite Astaire's insistence, Sielaire waits patiently for Ayrenn to cast a modified levitate spell on their daughter, which will cushion Astaire should she fall. And when Sielaire finally sets her free, Astaire toddles forward excitedly, feet pitter-patting across soft white sands.
With her eyes on Astaire, Sielaire takes a deep breath of crisp sea breeze, and sighs in contentment. Ayrenn wraps an arm around her waist, pressing up to her side as they walk along the island's shore. Sielaire turns her head to kiss Ayrenn's temple.
"It's been too long since we've done this," she murmurs, getting a soft smile from Ayrenn.
"Mm. Thank you." Ayrenn rests her head on Sielaire's shoulder. "If you hadn't asked, I wouldn't have thought about it."
"So busy," Sielaire teases. "It's like you keep forgetting that you have a family."
Ayrenn stops suddenly, and lifts her head to meet Sielaire's gaze. "That's not true. No matter how much I have to deal with, you and Astaire are always on my mind."
"I know. I was just joking, love." Sielaire caresses her cheek, feeling a tinge of concern.
But Ayrenn's serious gaze falls away, and she sighs fondly as she turns back to the front, walking beside Sielaire in silence. Sielaire hugs Ayrenn by the waist this time, following in Astaire's footsteps as the girl skips along the shore, and pauses occasionally to stare out into the dark, glimmering waters. Each time Sielaire sings her name, Astaire looks back with a grin, and toddles forward again – thankfully avoiding the waves washing onto the shore.
"Tell me truthfully, Sie," Ayrenn says. "Do you think I've been…distant?"
Sielaire blinks, glancing at Ayrenn – who is watching Astaire with an unreadable expression. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I worry. I know you understand when I'm scarce – you know I have much to do. But Astaire, I… Sometimes it feels like the only time I see her, is when she's already asleep."
"That's how it is for me, as well." Sielaire tilts her head. "Does it trouble you?"
Ayrenn nods, her frown growing deeper. "Sie, I know how it feels to have parents who are so…scarce around me. To have parents who are always away, doing important things that I didn't understand. Granted, I didn't begrudge them, but I also didn't…feel much towards them." She looks at Sielaire, troubled. "Do you know why it was so easy for me to run away? Because there was nothing holding me back. I wasn't attached to my parents, I wasn't attached to my home. I just…didn't care about them."
"You know that's different with Astaire. She's happy around you," Sielaire points out.
"Yes, but who's to say I didn't act the same when I was her age?" Ayrenn says with a wan smile. She runs a hand through her hair, turning her face to the sky as she sighs heavily. "I want to build a peaceful empire before I hand it over to Astaire, so she wouldn't face the same troubles we have. But it's costing me the time I have with her."
"You're doing your best, Renn. We both are." Sielaire squeezes her about the shoulders. "All we can do is trust that we're doing the right thing."
"Assuming our judgment isn't flawed," Ayrenn says drily. "Still, I think we should make more time for Astaire. I don't want her to grow up without us."
"We've been with her all this while," Sielaire reminds her. "But yes, I think we should make time. I find myself missing her, sometimes."
"Mama!" Astaire calls, distracting them as she toddles back, holding up a sand-covered seashell in her hand.
"Oh look, mama!" Ayrenn croons, bending down to take the shell. "Astaire found a pretty little seashell! Such a talented little girl."
Sielaire takes the shell from Ayrenn as her wife tweaks the girl's nose, getting a muffled giggle in return. Cleaning the seashell as best she can with firm pats, Sielaire trails behind Ayrenn, who lifts Astaire into her arms and makes for the lone tree near the edge of the island. Ayrenn places Astaire into the swing they'd attached to the tree's largest bough, and Sielaire hands the now-clean seashell back into Astaire's eager grasp. As the girl gazes at the shell in wonder, Sielaire gives the swing a gentle push. Astaire giggles at the movement, waving her seashell around as she sways back and forth through the air.
Glancing back at Ayrenn, who is watching Astaire with a gentle smile on her lips, Sielaire pulls her in by the waist, and kisses her softly. Ayrenn steals another kiss before they part, gaze bearing a hint of playfulness, and her eyes flutter shut as she touches their foreheads together.
"We'll do fine, Renn," Sielaire murmurs. "As a family."
Ayrenn rests a hand on Sielaire's arm, fingers digging briefly into her sleeve. "We will. I promise."