Strolling through the hallways of Alinor's palace, Kinlady Sielaire lets instinct and familiarity guide her steps, while her mind is fixed on more important matters. She'd just emerged from a lengthy Council meeting which she'd presided over from morning to late afternoon. She is hungry and tired, but the exhaustion barely has the chance to settle in – her mind is still busy parsing out information and opinions, cross-analysing each bit of–
Sielaire nearly stops in her tracks when she hears the faintest shuffle behind her. Lifting her gaze from the parchment in her hand, Sielaire pricks her ears and listens to the arrhythmic scuffles of soft shoes on marble flooring, always fleeting between the measured thuds of boots from the Kinlady's guards. She slows to a stop, and after her guards are done clinking into position behind her, she hears a rapid pitter-patter over the floor behind, followed by a short metallic thud. She turns around, and notices the suit of Aldmeri armour by the wall, which rattles faintly before returning to its inert state.
Catching Earilas' eye, Sielaire cocks a brow, and receives a smile in return – he knows.
"Did you hear that, Battlereeve?" Sielaire asks in a voice that carries down the hallway. "It sounded like footsteps behind us."
Earilas turns around, making sure to knock his boots a little louder against the floor, and hums as he scans the hallway behind them with theatrical flair. "No, Your Grace. The coast is clear – no one is following us."
"Good," Sielaire says airily. "With you on guard, surely no one could ever sneak up on us."
A muffled giggle can be heard from behind the suit of armour, and Sielaire smiles while her guards bite on their lips to keep from giving the game away.
"Well then, let's move on. I'm terribly busy today." Sielaire turns back to resume walking to her office.
She hasn't taken more than a few paces when the lightweight patter of shoes closes in behind them. Sielaire slows her strides, while her guards part farther from each other to clear a path for the little one to run through.
"Gotcha!" Astaire exclaims, clutching at her mother's dress as Sielaire jumps in convincing surprise.
"You caught me, little Star!" Sielaire croons, bending down to lift the giggling girl into her arms. "You're getting better at this every day."
"Yeah," Astaire agrees. She grins, twining her fingers in Sielaire's hair as she receives a peck on the cheek.
"Then we should reward you appropriately, yes?" Sielaire eyes the nanny who's strolled up to them, and bows to the Kinlady. "But first – were you good today, Astaire?"
"Very good," Astaire declares, her mouth set in a determined pout.
Sielaire looks to Caralisse, who tilts her head in the affirmative. "The princess was very well-behaved today, Your Grace."
"Excellent." Sielaire taps Astaire on the nose, then nods at Caralisse. "You may go. I'll take her from here."
Caralisse curtseys gracefully, wiggles her fingers at Astaire in farewell, and takes her leave. Sielaire watches the nanny turn a corner, before adjusting the two-year-old in her arms, and resuming her walk back to the office.
"Are you hungry, Star? Do you want a little snack?" Sielaire watches as Astaire nods eagerly. "Great, mama hasn't eaten since breakfast. We can eat together. What do you want? I'll have the chefs make it for you."
"I want a sweetroll."
Sielaire fixes Astaire's impish expression with a knowing gaze. "Did you have sweetrolls during lunch today?"
"One."
"Are you sure?" Sielaire asks in a sing-song voice, and Astaire caves easily.
"Two," Astaire admits, with another pout on her lips.
"That's plenty for one day, my dear. No more, or you'll ruin those pretty teeth you have." But when Sielaire looks back at the puppy eyes which Astaire gives her, she crumbles just as easily as her daughter. "Or…you could share one sweetroll with mama."
"Yay!"
Sielaire shares a smile with her daughter, who hugs her about the neck. 'You're too soft with her,' Ayrenn's voice chides in the back of her mind, but Sielaire really doesn't mind in the moment.
The morning sun over Alinor is just a tad hotter than it should be. Every year, on the day when Altmer gather with family to pay respects to their ancestors and those who came before, the sun usually sits behind a thin veil of clouds, as if in silent respect. This year, Sielaire can feel the warmth radiating through her clothes, and often has to pat at her face with a handkerchief.
But where she's having trouble with the heat, Ayrenn seems unaware of it at all. Granted, the Empress doesn't have the luxury of looking bothered while standing before the temple's doors, leading her people in long and melodic prayers to the gods and ancestors. But Sielaire admires her composure all the same.
Smiling gently to herself, Sielaire leans back in her chair, gazing at her wife. This is the first time Ayrenn has taken on this role – or any such role – at grand, religious functions. She's always had an impatient, near-blasphemous streak, and can barely stay still while trapped at such 'homicidally dreary affairs' – as she puts it. Thus, Ayrenn has always tossed such duties into Alwinarwe's lap and run off to attend more concrete matters, preferring to leave tradition in the capable hands of her cousin. At least, until now.
Sielaire had been surprised when Ayrenn announced her intent to lead the prayers, but after some thought, it isn't quite so much a shock. For one, Alwin has repeatedly lectured Ayrenn long enough that the Empress has to give in sooner or later. For another – Ayrenn's had a century to temper her impulses and obstinacy. Though these signature traits tend to rear their heads more often than not, it is obvious that she takes more time to think over her actions, before flying into motion. Sielaire has noticed this change more in the past couple of years, and suspects it is inspired by the circumstances which had led to their direct adoption of Astaire. A sombre motive, indeed; but Sielaire does appreciate what it has indirectly wrought.
Her eyes linger on Ayrenn, as the Empress breaks into a smile at the end of the prayer, resting briefly before gliding into the last hymn for the day. With her face raised to the sun, and that elegant smile, Ayrenn does look ever so radiant and regal. Sielaire's heart grows soft and proud, and a song of praise rises to her tongue, but she bites it down before drawing undue attention to herself.
Instead, she lowers her eyes and looks at Astaire, who is standing by herself at the edge of the wooden platform, staring intently at her mother in the distance. Sielaire thinks the girl is actually following the hymn in her heart, before Astaire is distracted, head whipping around at the trill of a bird from above. Astaire turns, eyes flickering to the skies in search, but it ends fruitlessly.
"Star, come here," Sielaire says, reaching for Astaire when the girl walks over to her. Lifting Astaire easily, Sielaire settles the girl in her lap, and uses a handkerchief to wipe away the perspiration dotting Astaire's forehead.
"Is it warm, Star? Are you thirsty?"
Astaire shakes her head, and turns her eyes back to the congregation. Sielaire shifts in her seat, so that Astaire can observe the proceedings easier.
"Mommy's singing for so long," Astaire says.
"Yes, she is," Sielaire agrees. "It's to be expected. Mommy is being all good and proper in front of her people. Finally."
Sielaire chuckles quietly when Astaire looks at her in curiosity. Raising her gaze to Ayrenn once more, she sighs fondly. "She's changed so much since we first met, you know?" Sielaire says, as Astaire's eyes are drawn back to the congregation. "She wasn't always like the patient mommy you know. She has grown so, so much."
A smile curves her lips. "But she's still as beautiful, as divine as the day I first laid eyes on her. No – she's even more beautiful now. And I can't help but fall in love with her, every single day."
"Mommy loves you too," Astaire states, matter-of-fact as she looks back at Sielaire.
"Oh?"
"Mommy says she loves you very much. And she says you're really strong, and pretty. The prettiest."
Sielaire laughs under her breath. "Does she now?"
A merciful breeze sweeps over the square, and Sielaire smooths a hand down Astaire's blond locks as she looks up at Ayrenn, who is just bringing the last hymn to a close. Her long golden hair streams in the wind, as her eyes turn in Sielaire's direction, locking gazes from the distance. Ayrenn gestures in dismissal at the congregation, but her gaze never leaves Sielaire as she smiles at them. Sielaire's heart squeezes faintly from the subtle yet fierce adoration, and it is all she can do to smile back, before lowering her eyes to catch her breath.
She finds Astaire staring at her curiously, perhaps wondering at her mother's distraction, and Sielaire smiles at the girl.
"Mommy told you all that, did she?" Sielaire asks, and Astaire nods fervently to prove her honesty. "I believe you, sweetheart."
"Mm, cheating," Sielaire breathes between kisses, trying to focus on Ayrenn's lips instead of the fingers stroking her ears. She nearly groans at the delicious pressure with which Ayrenn massages her ears, and kisses her wife harder.
Ayrenn hums in approval, and she finally leaves Sielaire's ears alone – both a victory and a loss. Strong, slim fingers thread through thick red hair, as Ayrenn kisses Sielaire back with equal fervour, before rolling them over.
"All is fair in love and war," Ayrenn pants between breaths, straddling her wife's hips as she cups Sielaire's jaw. "And we are making love now, aren't we?"
"Not quite yet," Sielaire murmurs with a teasing smile on her lips, soon met with Ayrenn's in a hot, needy kiss. Ayrenn's tongue slips deftly into her mouth, and Sielaire moans as her wife claims her.
Drawing her legs apart, she allows Ayrenn to rest a thigh between hers, rubbing against her with slow, steady rhythm. A hand slips beneath Sielaire's shirt, roaming over her abs and up to her chest, and Sielaire arches into Ayrenn's touch.
Ayrenn kisses her again as another moan escapes Sielaire. She draws back, gazing down with a wry smile. "I know I tease you a lot about this, Sie. But I do so love you like this."
Sielaire's eyes wander from Ayrenn's gaze, down to moist and reddened lips, before she pieces her thoughts together. "Like how?"
"So soft and pliant… So easy for me," Ayrenn purrs, with a lascivious pout.
Sielaire laughs, husky and breathless. A glint enters her eyes, locking with Ayrenn's. "Oh, now you're asking for it."
Flicking a tongue between her teeth playfully, Ayrenn bends down. "No, darling. You will be asking for it."
While Sielaire is torn between a taunt and a plea, Ayrenn captures her lips once more, chasing all thought and sense from her mind. Sielaire's blood quickens as she meets Ayrenn's kisses with near-bruising intensity. Amid riled heat, immeasurable tenderness fills Sielaire's chest when Ayrenn's fingers twine with her own. Clutching onto her wife's hand, Sielaire anchors herself as she's given reprieve by Ayrenn's lips leaving hers, moving to burn a path down her jaw.
Her free hand finds it way under Ayrenn's shirt while her wife pops the buttons of her own, and Sielaire slides her hand along warm flesh, feeling Ayrenn's back muscles work beneath her fingers. Ayrenn's kisses trail down to Sielaire's half-revealed chest, and Sielaire arches into Ayrenn's touch, in silent plea for–
"Mama?"
Sielaire's eyes snap open, while Ayrenn jerks her head up from Sielaire's chest, and presses their bodies together to hide any indecency. They stare at each other for the briefest of moments, breaths mixing together, before they turn their heads to look at Astaire, who has both hands on the bed and an innocent smile on her face.
"Yes, little Star?" Sielaire says, while Ayrenn's hand works subtly between them, buttoning up Sielaire's shirt.
"Can I sleep here tonight?"
Ayrenn laughs quietly, and buries her face in Sielaire's neck – where she gives a quiet whine that Sielaire can feel on her skin.
"Of course you can, my dear. Come here."
With a little coaxing, Sielaire manages to roll Ayrenn off her body, giving her wife a kiss in comfort. Then she lifts the covers for Astaire to crawl in, the girl's giggles bringing a smile to her lips, as the young one wriggles into place between her mothers.
"You always have the best timing, my dear little Star," Ayrenn chuckles, drawing the covers up Astaire's chest.
"I have the best everything," Astaire declares, patting her hands on top of the thick covers, before lying back into her pillow.
"Even the best mothers?" Sielaire asks.
"I have the best mommies!"
"And we have the best daughter," Sielaire says, tweaking Astaire's nose to get another giggle. "But now, let's get the best dreams, alright?"
"Yeah."
Astaire closes her eyes obediently, and Sielaire pats the girl gently through the covers. When it seems Astaire has dozed off – rather quickly too – Sielaire kisses the girl's forehead, then raises her eyes to meet Ayrenn's. Her wife's hooded gaze reminds her of the cooling heat between her legs, though she can't quite say the same for the softness in her chest.
Sielaire smiles, pressing two fingers to her own lips, then Ayrenn's – receiving a kiss in return. "Patience, dear. You will have me, I promise."
Ayrenn smirks lazily. "You say that like I don't always have you."
Sielaire rolls her eyes, though the smile never leaves her lips as Ayrenn threads their fingers together.
Humming under her breath, Sielaire counts the seconds down in her head, eyes never leaving the loin of venison in the pan. Her nose delights in the aroma of meat, butter and thyme, and her tongue waters in longing. When the mental countdown is done, Sielaire clicks the tongs in her hand once, and transfers the venison into a roasting pan. Pushing it into the heated oven, Sielaire closes the door and breathes a sigh, relieved that her tasks are finally complete.
Cooking is hardly the most strenuous activity Sielaire's ever done, and though she enjoys it, the process does take something out of her. Not that she has complaints though – it tires her in a good way, and reminds her of the rare times she'd spent in the kitchen with her mother. Sielaire had often wondered why her mother insisted on cooking so much when they could afford a cook, but now…well. She knows exactly why her mother says, 'You'll understand when you have your own family.'
Washing her hands clean, Sielaire wipes her face with a damp towel and looks at the kitchen counter, satisfied with the covered bowls and plates filled with warm food, ready for eating when the venison is done. Leaving the towel on the counter, Sielaire takes a bowl of soft pumpkin cookies she'd baked in the morning with Ayrenn, tossing one piece into her mouth as she walks out the front door. The breeze is strong this evening, and Sielaire relishes its coolness after spending so much time in a warm kitchen.
She strolls down the grass slopes to the northern point of their private island, past the flowers which Ayrenn had planted into the soil, towards the great tree standing watch by the shore. Astaire is sitting in the lone swing attached to the sturdiest bough, but it doesn't seem like she's interested in much swinging at the moment. Ayrenn is seated on the ground next to Astaire, who is listening intently as her mother gestures out at the open seas, telling a story.
"…and they live in nice little villages in swamps."
"Argonians?" Sielaire hazards a guess when she comes close, and Ayrenn nods while Astaire's head swivels to her.
"Mama, mommy says lizard people live all the way across the sea," Astaire says, with the occasional pause between bigger words. "But that's so far!"
"Well, they are very good swimmers. And ships exist." Sielaire settles on the grass next to Ayrenn, and offers the bowl of cookies to Astaire, who promptly grabs one.
"I want a ship," Astaire says between munches.
"Oh? And where will you go with your ship?" Ayrenn asks, plucking a cookie from the bowl as well.
"I wanna see cat people."
"Dear, oh dear," Ayrenn laments. "Our daughter is taking after you, my darling wife."
"As she should," Sielaire deadpans, though she smiles at Astaire. "There are lots of different Khajiit in Elsweyr, little Star. They don't all walk on two legs, you know. Some of them look like big, big tigers. And some of them look like the cats we have in the palace."
"Really? I want one!"
"You can't just 'want' an entire person, sweetheart," Sielaire laughs, though she grows quiet soon after. She turns to Ayrenn, fixing her with a thoughtful gaze. "Come to think, why don't we have an Alfiq in the palace? They'd work well as spies."
"Because, my dear, I'm afraid you'll forget about me once you have an Alfiq sidekick."
"Are you jealous, beloved?" Sielaire teases, pressing a soft kiss to Ayrenn's lips. "You know that no one will usurp your place in my heart."
"Not even a cat with very sleek fur?"
"Hm, tempting." Sielaire bursts out in another laugh when Ayrenn thumps a fist against her chest. Circling an arm around Ayrenn's waist, she kisses her wife once, then twice more. "You will always be the sleekest to me, Renn. No one will ever compare to you."
"I know," Ayrenn croons, a crooked smile on her lips. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
Sielaire huffs, then leans in gladly when Ayrenn closes the distance, savouring the feel and taste of her wife's lips.
"Aunt Alwy says you kiss too much."
They barely have time to part before they snort crudely at the sudden comment.
"What!" Ayrenn cackles. "She really said that?"
Astaire nods sagely. "You're hopeless."
"Oh, she is absolutely merciless," Sielaire intones under her breath, so only Ayrenn can hear her.
"I'm thinking we should have a little chat with her, hm? About not saying such things around our daughter…" Ayrenn's voice drifts off, then her eyes come alight with an impish glint. "Or, we could try this. Hey, Astaire?" Ayrenn says louder, catching Astaire's attention. "Did you know Aunt Alwy has a stick up her–?"
A mix between a laugh and gasp left Sielaire's lips, as she nudged at Ayrenn's ribs reproachfully. "Renn!"