Home for Christmas
An AU modern story.
Sylf stared at Tak in disbelief and frustration. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time.
The adventuring Burning Sensations were on a mission to retrieve an interesting artifact at Sylf's behest, and now they were underground in an old drow holding. They cleared out the monsters, found some good loot and gold, and were now at the end where, hopefully, Sylf's prize awaited them.
The large, empty chamber had an ominous, hushed presence that sent Sylf's warning senses blaring. In the center of the room was a large tinker-made box levitating above a circular mosaic floor. The mosaic resembled a ritual circle of some kind, though no one in the group could identify the ritual.
Upon closer inspection the box had a large hole in the side facing the entrance. The group performed their usual checks and magical assessments, but nothing seemed unusual. But as Sylf herself was investigating the box and determined exactly what it was, Tak stuck her hand in. Now, her arm was caught in the trap. Sylf wasn't sure why she expected any different from the tiefling anymore.
"THIS is why you don't stick your hand in shit!" Sylf snapped, glaring at her companion furiously.
"It seemed to check out though!" The tiefling protested. "Besides, it's not like you said anything."
"I was still inspecting it!" Sylf snapped, gesturing to the box. "This is a Banshee trap. If you try to pull your arm out, it's going to get cut off."
"Oh, so I just have to wait for one of you to disarm it, right?"
"Sure, and in that time, the banshee trapped inside the box will slowly suck out your soul."
The group went silent. "That…seems bad," Desi drawled.
Tak shrugged. "To be fair I think my soul has been in worse situations before. It'll be fine, right?"
Shaena moved to Tak. "Of course! We'll figure this out and get you out in no time," she said enthusiastically.
Sylf snapped her attention to Rolen. "Do you have enough spell slots left to cast Magic Reception?" She pulled out her phone out of her pack and waved it. "I need to make a call."
"More important things to do right now, don't you think?" Tak quipped.
"Yes. Which is why I'm making a call to the one drow I know who has successfully disarmed a Banshee trap." Sylf snapped.
"Yeah, I got it. Toss it here," Rolen said. Sylf handed him her phone and a few minutes later her reception bars were completely full. "It will last for an hour," Rolen explained, handing it back.
"Thanks," Sylf replied. A few quick taps later, she was dialing a call. Just as the recipient picked up, she switched the call to speaker phone.
"Listen, this had BETTER be good, because I am in the middle of a delicate cake operation and we're on vacation!"
"Excuse me?" Sylf scowled.
"Sylf? Shit!" There was some fumbling noises before the request for a video chat began buzzing. She accepted and Tomlyn appeared.
Even on a screen, the sight of Tomlyn's lazy grin and side-swept hair made her heart beat a little faster. Normally she took it in stride, but at the present moment she simply felt the longing to be by his side. He was clearly baking considering his tan apron was covered in white smears.
"Hey, sorry about that. Thought you were Bertrand. He's been trying to get a hold of E. all morning but joke's on him, because I have his phone right now."
"Does that mean you're alone?" she asked.
Tomlyn paused for a moment and then leaned closer to the camera. "Yeah, he's in the study wrapping gifts." He eyed her for a moment, an impish glint in his eyes, as he lowered his voice, "So, I've got some time if you do."
Out of the corner of her eye, Sylf saw Birdie flounce over to her and she grounded herself as Birdie practically jumped on her back, rocking Sylf's body a bit from the impact. "Hi Tomlyn! Tak's stuck so we have to get her out!"
Tomlyn drew back, the impish glint gone. "Oh. Not that kind of call then, eh?"
"No," Sylf replied flatly. "Remember that job in the countryside Ephraim sent us on years ago? Where we found that small Banshee box?"
Tomlyn scoffed and casually, and somehow dashingly, slung a dish towel over his shoulder. "You mean that time you got your hand stuck in the box and yelled at me the entire time about how it was my fault as I worked to get you out?"
"Wot? Are you serious Sylf? Giving me shit when—"
Sylf turned her back to Tak, ignoring her complaints. "Tak stuck her hand in a big box. I need your help with the mechanism."
"Alright, alright. Is the box levitating?"
"Yes."
"Then the mechanism is underneath." Frowning Sylf bent down and took a quick look under. "Yes, I see it. I don't know what to do, though. There should be a way to release her hand without releasing the banshee, right?"
"Probably, but that's kinda hard. I'd be ready just in case."
"Great," Sylf muttered. On closer inspection, it looked like the mechanism was closer to Tak than in the center. The plan began to formulate in her mind and she rummaged around in her pack for her thief tools.
"Okay, I'm going to need a Mage Hand to hold the phone. Tak, spread your legs. I have to get under you."
Sylf glanced up to see Tak's cheeks tinged a darker red. Then, she grinned, her green hair swaying as she adjusted her stance and glanced back at Sylf. "I guess that's one way to go about it."
Shaena frowned, looking over Tak. "Oh Tak, I think you need to spread your legs a bit more. I'm not sure Sylf will fit." At Birdie's laugh, Desi's sigh, and Rolen's snicker, Shaena added, "What's so funny?"
From the phone, Tomlyn's voice said, "I'd watch that."
"I hate all of you," Sylf snapped. She wasted no time getting into position, laying on her back and ignoring the laughter around her. Still grinning from ear to ear, Birdie supplied the Mage Hand and the phone floated above Sylf as she grabbed her lockpicks. Glancing at the phone, Tomlyn was staring at her with a soft expression.
"What is it?" she asked sharply.
"Nothing. Just love watching you work."
Sylf felt her cheeks heat, but she gave him a small smile and puckered her lips, smacking a kiss. He grinned and smacked a kiss back.
"Hey! Are you flirting down there?" Tak called. "My arm feels funny."
"Flipping the camera," Sylf announced. She switched the camera view off of selfie-mode and with some adjusting of the Mage Hand, Tomlyn began giving her instructions. Rolen moved to the other side, helping her with her tools. Every so often Shaena and Desi offered words of encouragement to Tak, who was clearly starting to feel the banshee sucking out her soul.
The mechanism was complicated and she could now see why Tomlyn struggled with the one she was stuck in. As a drow contraption, Banshee boxes were methods of containment for the banshee, but also served as a trap for would be intruders. Notoriously difficult to undo, the boxes were really finicky and required an eye for detail.
"Alright, you're almost there Sylf," Tomlyn said. "Just hook that wire on the right—"
Sylf followed the instructions and hooked the wire, pulling it down. There was a satisfying click and Tak gasped as she stumbled back, clutching her hand to her chest.
"—but don't pull it down. Move it to the side and up."
As he gave the final instruction, Sylf heard gears begin to grind. "Move!" She shouted and twisted her body, rolling out from under the box just as the banshee began to wail.
*~0~*
"Sylf? Sylf!"
Panic rose in Tomlyn, a lump forming in his throat as a cloud of black smoke covered the camera lens. Tomlyn slammed his thumb on the down volume button as the banshee wail started to echo in the kitchen. Worried, he glanced over at the door where Ephraim was blissfully wrapping presents. Magic reception or no, banshee wails were ear-splitting and still able to induce at least a mild headache through the phone.
The Mage Hand began to snap and pull erratically as someone began to move amid the chaos, but Tomlyn didn't dare hang up until he knew what the hell was going on. When the camera finally stopped, Tomlyn turned up the volume a little so he could hear, but not loud enough to alert Ephraim. He could hear Shaena's shout, Desi's thunderous voice, and the thwack of Rolen's quarterstaff on the floor.
"Oh! No wonder, you can't see me!" Birdie's face appeared in the camera, her cheery grin greeting him. "Sylf's fine, don't worry! She already got a nice shot in! But we'll call you back, okay?"
"No, wait! Birdie don't—"
The call ended and Tomlyn stared at his phone before tossing it on the counter, running his hand through his hair. The panic wasn't going away, though, and he placed his hands on the cool, marble counter-top forcing himself to breathe.
Sylf is fine. She's surrounded by five other adventurers. It's fine. She's fine. She's coming home.
Sylf is coming home.
Tomlyn closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The scent of something burning caught his nose and he turned in horror to his coffee syrup on the stove.
"Periti's Balls!" Scowling, Tomlyn snatched the pot off the burner and tossed it in the sink, running cold water over the burning sugar.
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, placing his hands on his hips. Right. Start again. That's what he can control. Not whether Sylf is in the clutches of a banshee and—Nope. Coffee syrup. That's the next step. Focus on the syrup.
By the time the next batch started to boil, his phone rang again. A rush of relief went through him as he answered. "Sylf!"
Even through the phone the rush of victory was evident in her features. She was almost glowing with pride and triumph, her peridot eyes shining brightly. Damn, she's gorgeous.
"Good instructions there, Tomlyn."
"You're the one who moved before I finished. How's T's hand?"
"Tak's fine and the banshee is dead."
Faintly off camera Tomlyn heard Desi call, "Sylf! We found it!"
She turned back to her companions. "Excellent! Listen I have to let you go."
"Woah, woah, wait. When are you getting in?" Tomlyn asked.
At that, the brightness in her eyes fell. "I'm not sure."
Tomlyn frowned at her, a sinking feeling beginning to settle in him. "I thought you were less than a day's flight away."
"We were but we caught wind of this artifact and, well," she glanced behind her, "we had to check it out."
"Oh. Sure, except tomorrow is, you know, Christmas Eve."
"I know," she said. "I'll be there."
"You're supposed to be home tonight and—look, E. has something really special planned. I don't know what, but he's put a lot of work into it and you just need to jet on over here okay?"
Desi called for Sylf again and she looked back. "I'll be there, I promise." She paused before adding, "Until we meet again."
"See you soon," he replied. The call ended and Tomlyn heaved a long sigh. The scent of burned sugar filled the air again and Tomlyn turned off the burner, throwing the pot in the sink. He marched over to the couch and plopped down, head in his hands.
Weeks of planning the meal and practicing the roast. Hours of putting up with Kassandra over the table setting. Two full days of toiling in the kitchen, preparing his three course meal. Everything down to the detail, perfected for a lavish Christmas Eve dinner for his loves that Sylf might not even be there for.
Because, you know, adventuring.
The door to the study opened and Ephraim emerged. The King was crisply dressed in his slacks and beige sweater vest over a light blue button down—"casual attire" as he put it. His cheeks were flushed and he smiled at Tomlyn, sending a warmth through him that made him feel a bit better.
"What's going on, Tommy? I thought I heard a banging noise?"
"Oh, that's just my second burned pot."
Ephraim frowned and sat next to him on the couch, placing a hand on Tomlyn's knee. "What's wrong?"
"What, me? Nothing. Just can't get the damn syrup right."
Ephraim eyed him, giving him a knowing look and Tomlyn wasn't able to resist. "Alright, alright. Sylf called. She needed help getting T's hand out of a banshee box."
Ephraim drew back a bit, concern settling in his features. "What's a Banshee Box?"
"Well it's a drow contraption that—"
"Drow? They were that far deep in a drow enclave?" Ephraim seized Tomlyn's hands, clutching them tightly. "Is she okay?"
"Everyone is fine," Tomlyn said. Ephraim exhaled and released his fearful grip. He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his hand to his forehead.
"Wait, you talked to Sylf?" He began to brighten. "I didn't realize she had reception!" Before Tomlyn could stop him, Ephraim was already dialing.
"Oh! Darling! Tommy was saying—"
"YOU AGGROED THE GHOSTS! FUCKING GHOSTS! AND WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH HOLY HAND GRENADES!"
"Oh, well, I—" Ephraim stammered.
"We were SUPPOSED to SNEAK by them, like we did on the way in. But NOOOOO. You just HAD TO CALL even though I JUST TALKED TO TOMLYN. FUCKING FUCK GHOSTS!"
"Now, see here, Darling, I—" He paused and looked at his phone. "She hung up on me." Panicked he turned to Tomlyn. "She's okay right?"
Tomlyn felt the panic in him rise too, but he plastered a smile on his face. "Of course she's fine. It's Sylf."
"Right," Ephraim said. He exhaled sharply. "Do you think I should call her back?"
"Do you want to hear about the fucking fuck ghosts?"
Ephraim considered him for a moment. "At least we'd know she's alive."
The silence that settled between them was heavy and uncomfortable. It brought up too many memories of those dark days when they didn't know what happened, when they thought she was dead.
Baking. Coffee syrup. For the cake.
Tomlyn swallowed his anxiousness and stood. "Doesn't matter. They took a detour, went further out."
He turned and walked back into the kitchen, starting to soak the burned pots before grabbing a new one. What's that human saying? Third time's the charm?
"Wait, Tommy," Ephraim called from the couch. "When will she be home?"
Tomlyn just shrugged. Sugar. Need sugar.
"Oh, that's why you look so down!"
Tomlyn pretended not to notice Ephraim rising off the couch. But it was unavoidable when Ephraim took the pot from his hands and set it aside on the counter. He felt Ephraim's hands take hold of his face, cupping his jawline, and gently turned his face to look down at him. Tomlyn inhaled the fresh pine notes of his cologne and the pleasant familiarity of it comforted Tomlyn a little.
"She'll be here in time, I know it," Ephraim said. "And she will love and appreciate all the work you put into this wonderful dinner for us." Ephraim smiled kindly at him and Tomlyn's stomach flipped.
Ephraim's golden eyes darted to the burned pots and then back to Tomlyn. "Maybe you need a break."
Tomlyn sighed. "Yeah, I wish, but the only thing I've done for this opera cake is the joconde. I still need to make the coffee syrup, get it to room temperature, make the buttercream and—"
Suddenly, Ephraim jerked way, pulling on Tomlyn's arm and dragging him out of the kitchen.
Tomlyn followed him, frowning. "E., what are you—"
Ephraim stopped in the middle of the entryway, turned and pressed a kiss to Tomlyn's lips, which immediately wiped any coherent thought Tomlyn had, as Ephraim's kisses always did.
When Ephraim drew back, smiling, it took Tomlyn a moment to register why he dragged him out of the kitchen. His eyes flickered up to the hanging white berries and he shook his head. He drew Ephraim closer, placing his hands on his waist.
"Really, E.? Had to drag me under the mistletoe?"
"It's Christmas! And festive! Besides," Ephraim flushed but held Tomlyn's gaze, "I have to catch you under the mistletoe while I can before Sylf arrives."
"Oh?"
Ephraim wrapped his arms around Tomlyn's neck and pressed his forehead to Tomlyn's. "Once she gets here, we'll be trying to catch her under the mistletoe instead. And, well, you've been cooking for days."
Tomlyn knew that Ephraim cared about him and enjoyed being intimate. But even now, every so often, he couldn't help but wonder if his charming King only tolerated him for Sylf's sake. It was moments like these that reminded Tomlyn that Ephraim was more than tolerant, wanting even, and it turned Tomlyn into mush.
"Going to be kinda difficult to only kiss her by the door," he replied, his voice breathy.
"Well," Ephraim started slowly. Tomlyn felt the air thicken around them and his grip tightened on Ephraim's hips as a familiar heat began to spread through him. "I did hang a bushel of mistletoe over the bed."
Tomlyn broke their embrace, grabbed Ephraim by the wrist, and pulled him towards the bedroom. "Yep, definitely need a break."
Ephraim laughed brightly before Tomlyn kissed him again. He didn't think about Sylf being a live or dead, he didn't think about her being late. Ephraim was right. She would be here and they would both be ready for her. In the meantime, though, he was definitely going to enjoy the pleasure of Ephraim's company.
*~0~*
Sylf sighed, sliding onto the empty bench in the airship. Desi was keeping watch in the back while Birdie gently swayed back and forth, asleep in her small hammock. Rolen was laying across the other bench, Shaena curled up on his chest, her plate armor on the ground next to them.
She looked around for a moment and found a blanket in the center console. Quietly, she crept towards the sleeping couple and laid the blanket gently over them, making sure the blanket reached up to Shaena's shoulder. She went back to the open bench, her gaze lingering on the blissfully sleeping couple.
From behind her, Sylf heard Tak's long yawn. She turned as the tiefling finished fiddling with the steering console and stepped down from the helm. She plopped down on the bench next to Sylf, hands in her pockets, bleary eyed.
"You should get some rest. I'll keep an eye on it," Sylf said, nodding towards the steering.
"Nah, you should get rest for when we drop you off." Tak had a point. She could easily get in a full rest before they arrived and then she would be fresh. But she didn't feel quite ready to rest yet.
For a moment they sat in silence. It wasn't often that Sylf was alone with Tak, let alone quietly. When they were alone, Tak was usually trying to give her one of her "speeches" about "friendship" and "talking to people" or some other nonsense. Granted, Sylf was in a much better place than a few years ago…
Sylf's gaze drifted back to Rolen and Shaena. "Do you think they'll decide to settle down, one day?" she asked.
"With the church and all, why not?" Tak followed Sylf's gaze and then glanced at her. "What about you?"
Good question. Sylf wanted a more permanent home, a place to call her own, but after remembering Ephraim and Tomlyn, well, it didn't make sense to put down roots somewhere they weren't. And, even back then, the Burning Sensations were traveling so much that she could deal with crashing in various places until they set out again.
But to have a home of her own…it made her long for the blue little row house. "I miss having my own place," she admitted. "And you?"
"Eh, I've got the room in the church, you know? And Shaena's there, and Birdie, and Rolen. I figure Desi'll go back to his herd, eventually."
"Someday," came the quiet rumble from the end of the ship. "But we have unfinished business."
"Desi has Henny though," Sylf said. She couldn't help her small smirk as she asked, "What about Destiny?"
Tak blushed and slouched in her chair, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "Nah, I mean, she's like, a 10. A 20, you know? I'm nowhere near that. I'm better off at the church."
Desi's displeased rumble was evident, but Sylf didn't press it. "I suppose."
Tak cocked her head, glancing up to Sylf. "What about you and your boys? Tomlyn better like that gift, by the way. Nearly lost my hand for it an' everything." She raised her hand and inspected it before slipping it back into her pocket. Then she looked at Sylf suspiciously. "How did you get your hand caught in one of those traps?"
Sylf was grateful for the sudden distraction and briefly recounted the tale. She wasn't sure that she wanted to talk about Tomlyn and Ephraim in the context of "settling down." Things had been going well since they finally figured out a groove between the three of them, and besides, Ephraim was insistent on focusing on the present.
For now it seemed to suit the three of them. The tabloids, on the other hand, read otherwise. She knew what they were saying about the King. Non-committal. Unwilling to take his duties in succession seriously. That it had been several years since the coronation and the King needed a Queen.
Something nasty and vicious and vengeful curled in her gut at the mere thought of another woman standing beside Ephraim. But reality caused it to unfurl and left a longing ache in her instead. While she was of a noble elven house, it wasn't as though Sylf made friends during her time in Ephraim's court. And now she was an adventurer. Surely she wasn't…she could never be…
"Oi, Sylf, you okay?"
Sylf blinked, Tak's question pulled her out of her thoughts. "I'm fine," she replied quietly.
"You don't seem fine."
"Tak, can we just…not do this?"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Annoyance pricked at her, but Sylf pushed it down. "No, not really," she sighed. "Maybe later." She didn't really want to talk about it, to give voice to her deep-seeded doubts and fears, but if she didn't indicate any kind of willingness to chat, Tak would never stop pestering her.
Tak pulled a smashed, unwrapped chocolate from her jacket pocket, the raspberry filling oozed out of the center with a weird yellow…thing attached to it. She held it out to Sylf.
"Want it? You look like you could use it."
Sylf drew back, her nose scrunched. "That's disgusting."
Tak popped the chocolate in her mouth and hummed appreciatively. "Tastes good to me."
Anything that came from Tak's pockets Sylf refused to touch. She stood. "I'm giving you your present now."
"Wot?" Tak asked, her mouth still full. Sylf ignored her as she went to the Bag of Holding and flipped it open. After sticking her hand in for a moment, she found the box she needed. The box was wide and deep, wrapped in glittering red and white striped paper. On top was an elaborate bow in a random assortment of colors, all with glitter—red, gold, yellow, blue, silver, green, and black.
"Oh, wow!" Tak exclaimed. "This is so nice! Is that what you and Birdie were doing while we were on our way to the cave?"
"Yeah, but, Birdie made the bows," Sylf replied.
"Oh, well, I can't open this now, before everyone else."
"No, please," Sylf insisted. "You need it."
Tak studied Sylf for a moment but then shrugged. "Oh, well, alright." She carefully removed the bow and set it aside before ripping the wrapping paper off. Then, she took the lid off the box and hesitated before pulling out a black puffer jacket.
The jacket was cut similar to the one she was wearing, but on either side of the jacket were two large pockets, one on top and one on bottom, closed with gold zippers. The sleeves had a zipper a piece near the top and when Tak opened the jacket, there were more zippers and pockets inside.
"It's custom made," Sylf explained. "The liner has pockets on the inside, but the liner also comes out for warmer weather." She reached over, unzipped a pocket, and turned it out. "The pockets are all lined so they're easily washable for…whatever you put in there."
"Wow! This is—wow!" Tak stood and shrugged her shabby, worn jacket off and slid the new one on. She pulled on the jacket a bit and rolled her shoulders. "This fits amazing!"
"Like I said, custom made."
Tak stared at her for a moment and then nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Sylf. This is really nice, I mean it."
"Well, you needed it," Sylf replied.
"Why, what's wrong with my current jacket? I mean, this one is great but my other one is fine."
"It has burn marks from that time Rolen accidentally lit it on fire while prepping for his exam," Sylf replied smoothly. In actuality, that was the least important reason Tak needed a new jacket.
Tak's jacket, currently discarded on the floor, was filthy, contained the stench of grime and undead, and the pockets perpetually covered in some sort of sticky substance that was layered over years of stuffing who-know-what in the pockets. It certainly had to be a hive of bacteria and all manner of disgusting, filthy, icky things. Sylf was still half convinced one of the pockets had to be enchanted into a Bag of Holding, but she dare not stick her hand in to find out.
Tak pondered Sylf's lame excuse for a moment. "Huh, yeah. That's a good point." Then, she brightened. "Hang on a sec."
Sylf turned as she also went to the Bag of Holding and rummaged around for a moment, returning with a small box wrapped in solid green paper.
"Here. Hope you like it."
Sylf unwrapped the box and paused when she saw the contents. Setting the box in her lap, she carefully pulled out a small bronze figurine of a large dog, complete with its tongue hanging out.
"I think if you—" Tak leaned over and fiddled with a knob underneath the dog's belly. After a few turns she released it and the tail began to wag. "Yeah!" she added brightly.
Sylf couldn't help but smile, figurine reminding her of Ephraim. She probably shouldn't have yelled at him when he called (Although he did alert the ghosts to their presence by setting off her ring tone and it was a sort of nasty fight so he deserved it. A little.). Either way, the sight of the dog made her long to be with Ephraim and Tomlyn, curled up by the fire and watching predictable, romantic holiday movies.
"It's not much but…I dunno. Thought you might like it."
"I do," Sylf said. She turned to her friend and gave her a small smile. "Thank you."
Tak smiled in response before letting out another large yawn. The tiefling stretched and stood. "Alright. You rest and then I'll sleep after."
Sylf grabbed a pillow from under the bench but looked up to Tak, who resumed her position up at the helm. The tiefling gave her another grin before starting to transfer the contents of her old pockets into her new jacket. That was something Sylf couldn't stomach, so she settled onto the bench. As she drifted off into her trance, she thought about the two men waiting for her at home.
*~0~*
Ephraim stared at the unwrapped ring box on his desk wondering for the umpteenth time if he was going to make a fool of himself. Oh, he could just see it now. Sylf's stoic stare and Tommy's laughter at the absurdity of it. But, he had to try, didn't he?
Ephraim picked up the box and opened it. Inside was thick, golden signet ring. On top was a rounded rectangular ruby encrusted in a border of small diamonds, and on either side of the ring were large, circular diamonds. He took the ring out and slid it on his left ring finger, testing the wear and weight, as he had been ever since it arrived from the jeweler. It felt good. Right. Perfect.
His gaze moved to the two neatly wrapped small square boxes, one wrapped in gingerbread man-themed paper and the other with glittery holly-themed paper. Between the boxes laid an envelope with the crisply folded, handwritten letter. It seemed unassuming, but Ephraim spent weeks working on draft after draft. It had to be perfect. Even now, he wasn't sure it was good enough, but it would have to do.
There was a knock on the door and Ephraim jumped at the sudden noise. "Don't come in!" he called.
"I'm almost done getting dressed. You still want to do pictures?" Tommy's muffled voice said.
"Yes, I'll be there in a moment!"
Quickly Ephraim took the signet ring off and put it back into the ring box, shoving it in his pocket. He emerged from the study and quickly shut the door behind him. As befitting of their natures, both Tommy and Sylf were miserable when it came to gifts. Just the sight of a box made them immediately start to guess the contents—there was absolutely no way he could let them see the wrapped boxes until he was ready.
Walking through the living room, Ephraim took a moment to inhale spices from the candles lit in the living room, the tantalizing aroma of the roast in the oven, and the fresh pine of the garlands and greenery strung up along the archways and fireplace mantle. He was glad that he hired Kassie's decorator for the penthouse this Christmas, though, picking out and decorating the tree was something he and Tommy did together.
Being here, in his penthouse away from court, Ephraim truly felt at home. No courtiers, no fires to put out, or messages to respond to. Just him, and Tommy, and, when she arrived, Sylf. With the snow falling outside, the patio already covered in a blanket of white, Ephraim felt that this Christmas was going to be magical.
Tommy emerged from the bedroom, pulling on his suit jacket and Ephraim's gaze immediately snapped to him, the rest of the decor seeming inconsequential next to the strikingly handsome drow. Tommy's suit was velvet, like Ephraim's burgundy suit and Sylf's emerald jumper, but the swirling print in the black jacket was a stunning touch. In true Tommy fashion, his white button-down underneath was unbuttoned at the top, with no tie in sight.
As finely as Tommy cleaned up, his white hair slicked back with gel, he still walked with an easy swagger, giving Ephraim the impression he was simply up to no good. When Tomlyn caught his eye and quirked a smile with that mischievous, knowing, look, Ephraim thought his heart would leap out of his chest.
Tommy didn't say anything as he kissed him chastely before adjusting the lapels of Ephraim's suit jacket. "Do we have to take pictures? Why don't we just move onto the dancing and drinking bit?" He checked his watch. "We've got a few hours before dinner, though everything is ready and keeping warm."
Ephraim gave Tommy a stern look. "We absolutely must do pictures—you simply look too handsome not to. Then we shall dance."
Tommy rolled his eyes but complied as Ephraim ushered him around the penthouse, taking individual pictures and managing to set the self-timer for the two of them by the tree and Tommy's elaborate dinner table setup. But far before Ephraim was satisfied with his camera roll, Tommy was dragging him over to the open space between the living room and kitchen, where the record player sat.
Tommy put on an older, classic big band record of Christmas music by Deannie Hartin, one of Tommy's favorites. Ephraim let Tommy lead as he pulled him into a more ballroom style position, Tommy's hand on his waist and Ephraim's arm over his shoulder. Their hands clasped together, and Ephraim was swept off his feet as Tommy began to sing along to the record.
As they danced, Ephraim occasionally joined in the singing, and other times, he was simply left breathless at the ease of Tommy's movement. While Ephraim wasn't as versatile of dancer as Sylf or Tommy, being in Tommy's arms like this was simply enchanting; he could easily see how Sylf fell for Tommy, dancing their roguish nights away in piano clubs and bars.
A slower, ballad-style rendition of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" came on, and Tommy pulled him close. The two of them swaying, Ephraim laid his head on Tommy's shoulder and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of being in his lover's sturdy, comforting arms.
How Ephraim longed to be able to dance with Tommy like this whenever and wherever he wanted, unashamed and unapologetic. He hated that he still had to pretend to be the eligible bachelor, sneaking in dances while "getting some air" between a dance card full of women trying to throw themselves at his feet. Not to mention trying to keep things a secret from the press. That was a whole other nightmare.
Ephraim's hand squeezed Tommy's hand tightly. Soon that would change. Hopefully, anyway.
"E.? You okay?" Tommy's voice, quiet and hushed, drifted down to him.
"I'm just happy I get to be here with you, like this," Ephraim replied.
After a moment, the song changed to a more upbeat tune and with it, Tommy began leading him over the open space. Tommy spun him and then pulled him in for a deep kiss. Ephraim lost track of his senses, his thoughts, everything as he deepened the kiss.
When they broke for air, it took Ephraim a moment to realize they were in the foyer. "Really, Tommy? Had to drag me under the mistletoe?" Ephraim teased.
"Well, apparently it's festive."
Ephraim leaned in for another kiss, but Tommy drew back, brandishing something in his hand. "By the way, you were going to tell me about this, right?"
To Ephraim's horror, Tomlyn was holding the ring box that was supposed to be in his pocket. Gasping, Ephraim all but jumped back, hands searching his pockets frantically. All empty. "Tommy! You—you—thief!"
Tommy laughed, full and warm, and normally it would have been pleasing to Ephraim, but all he felt was panic. "Relax, E. I knew you were planning something big, but I didn't think it was this big. How big is the rock you got her? Come on, show me."
Ephraim snatched the box from Tommy's fingers, his hands wrapping around it protectively. "It's not what you think!" Excuse, he needed an excuse, any excuse. "Kassie got it for me as an early Christmas gift," he blurted. It wasn't technically a lie. Kassie did help with the rings, and Tommy always said the best lie is one couched in the truth.
But Tommy saw through the lie easily, his skeptical gaze clear. "Uh huh. So we're playing it like that, eh?" He shrugged, appearing disinterested. "It's fine, it's fine, I won't say anything."
Ephraim pressed his lips together. He didn't want Tommy thinking he was being left out, but he didn't want to tip off what he had planned either. But how could he explain without giving the surprise away?
"Tommy—"
Tomlyn stepped back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna call Sylf again. It's starting to get late, and I'm hungry."
Ephraim sighed. Perhaps a change in music might distract him. There was a nice elven winter solstice record in the stack, if he remembered correctly. While Tommy made the call, Ephraim set the record, the familiar lutes and plucking harp filling the air. Ephraim turned, hoping for another dance, but Tommy was staring at his watch, frustrated.
"It's already two hours past time. I can't get a hold of her either. This time it rang but she didn't pick up."
Ephraim didn't know what to say. The dinner was Tommy's big gift for the two of them—he couldn't simply wrap it and give it to her another day.
"Well, I'm here," he replied.
Tommy gave him a longing stare but before he could respond, a sudden glaring and bright light shone through the span of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Ephraim shielded his eyes, feeling Tommy tuck him into his chest protectively. Then the light passed and he heard a low rumbling noise, the vibrations of it coming through the floor.
"The ship!" Ephraim exclaimed. Before Ephraim could react, Tommy was tearing out of the front door. In the open swing of the door, Ephraim saw him throw open the door to the stairwell going up to the roof.
Ephraim strode towards the door, following Tommy but then paused. The ring was still in his pocket. Turning towards the study, he hurriedly took the box out of his pocket and, along with the wrapped boxes, hid all three in one of the drawers in his desk.
Then, he raced out of the front door and barged through the stairwell door only to come to a dead stop. It seemed Tommy was wasting no time. He had Sylf pinned against the wall, the snowflakes in her hair not even fully melted yet, their arms clutching each other in a tight, passionate embrace.
"Really, now," Ephraim said, crossing his arms. "Surely there are more appropriate places to greet our Darling?"
Sylf broke the kiss, her unfocused gaze traveling down to him, her cheeks flushed prettily, and Ephraim swallowed. Well, with Sylf looking at him like that he supposed he couldn't blame Tommy. But Tommy didn't relinquish his hold, his attention moving to her neck, and Sylf's eyes fluttered closed as she lightly gasped.
"Tommy, we talked about this," Ephraim said warningly.
Tommy's groan echoed through the small hall as he reluctantly let Sylf go and stepped back. He straightened his suit, sighing longingly. "I think we could skip to dessert, eh?"
Sylf rolled her eyes and pushed him back playfully before making her way down the stairs. "I don't think so," Sylf snorted. "I'm starving. We ran through our provisions and by the end of the day all we had to eat was whatever Tak had in her pockets." Tommy sighed dramatically but followed her down the stairs.
As she walked down the stairs, Ephraim outstretch his hands to her. She took his hand and the firmness of her grip sent a wave of relief through him. Sylf was here, and, maybe this time she would stay. When they stepped into the penthouse she stopped and looked around, taking in the decor. Her head titled up, her gaze paused at the mistletoe. Ephraim smiled and coyly stepped in front of her, pulling her under.
He could feel her smile as he pressed a kiss to her lips. When he drew back, she leaned forward, rushing to meet his embrace again. She smelled like dirt from the cavern and oil from the ship but Ephraim didn't care. He lost himself in the moment and when he finally needed air he found himself staring at the most beautiful and incredible woman he'd ever know.
"Welcome home, Darling."
*~0~*
Tomlyn sat down at the elaborately set dinner table and enjoyed the weeks of his labor. It took him several tries to get the roast to be actually edible and then good. He was an okay cook, but this time, he really wanted to do it. And, from the excitement and satisfied hum at the table, both Ephraim and Sylf were enjoying the meal as much as he was. Considering the dinner was dedicated to Ephraim, Tomlyn was especially pleased that he was enjoying it.
Dessert, though, was for Sylf. She looked mouthwatering in her scoop-necked emerald jumper, her neck and ears glittering in gaudy, large diamonds. The satin black gloves were an elegant but smart touch—all these years later and she still didn't like her forearms exposed. But what Tomlyn cared about was the black diamond ring on her left hand, glittering and prominent. Unchanging. For now, apparently.
Once their stomachs were appeased, conversation picked up. Sylf told them all about the banshee battle and subsequent encounter with the ghosts, half-apologizing for yelling at Ephraim, and Ephraim caught her up on the latest court gossip. Tomlyn chimed in every so often with a few jokes and tidbits that weren't in the tabloids.
As the dinner wound down, Tomlyn got up and pulled the pre-plated opera cake out of the fridge. He was pleased that the mirror glaze was still intact and that the gold-dusted chocolate mold in the Opera script still looked pristine.
He took two plates and turned to the two most important people to him in all the plane. He cleared his throat and they looked up at him. He set a plate of cake in front of Ephraim and then turned to Sylf.
He gestured to the cake. "For dessert, opera cake. Six even, clean layers of chocolate, coffee, sponge, and cream with the classic Opera script on top." His gaze returned to Sylf, her sharp eyes locked on him. "Executed with precision, each bite decadent. Rich. Indulgent."
Sylf's lips quirked into an amused smile. "You watched Holiday Bake Off today, didn't you?"
Ephraim laughed as Tomlyn scoffed, "Just last year's season. We still have to watch this year's, which we would have earlier today except someone was—"
Sylf sat straight, her sharp eyes narrowed. "In an airship racing here as fast as I possibly could?"
Tomlyn held her gaze for a moment, and then set the plate down in front of her. That was not what he was going to say, but it wasn't worth it. What, was he really going to pick a fight on Christmas Eve as he was gifting Sylf the cake he especially made for her? What kind of asshole did that?
This one, once upon a time.
"In an airship, racing here as fast as you possibly could," he acquiesced. Her posture relaxed a bit and she looked down at the plate. Then, crossed her legs and titled her head at him.
"Feed it to me," she commanded. He did, watching raptly as her lips closed around the fork, chocolate catching the corner of her mouth. She chewed slowly, closing her eyes, savoring the dessert. Her eyes opened and looked up at him, smoldering and heated.
He couldn't stand it any longer and swooped down for a greedy kiss, his tongue roving over the chocolate in the corner of her mouth. She tasted like the cake, mixed with wine—utterly delectable. She pulled back far too soon for his liking and her eyes settled past him on Ephraim.
Sylf took the fork and cut off a piece, holding out to Ephraim. Blushing furiously, he leaned forward and accepted the bite. He groaned, his eyes shut tight.
"Tommy, this is so good! I think it's the best cake you have ever made!"
"I agree," Sylf said. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. "Thank you."
He just flashed them a grin and a mocking bow before turning back into the kitchen. He set a pot of coffee and grabbed his own plate. As they chatted more and finished their desserts and coffee, Tomlyn was itching for another dance. Or, well, let's be honest, any excuse to pull Sylf into his arms.
"Tommy, this was simply wonderful. You outdid yourself!" Ephraim gushed.
"Ah, well, it's not a big deal," Tomlyn said, shrugging. "Just wanted to give you something that actually meant something, you know?"
Tomlyn didn't quite get the reaction he expected. He expected Ephraim to laugh and say that all his actions were meaningful or Sylf to scoff at him with some playful jab. Instead Ephraim's face flushed crimson, but his golden eyes shone brightly right through Tomlyn.
"Yes, I couldn't agree more," he replied softly.
Tomlyn turned to Sylf, but she was giving him that rare, soft smile that always made his heart flip.
"So," Tomlyn said slowly, "I'll clear the table and put on some records?"
"Oh, I'll clean up! You've done so much already!" Ephraim exclaimed.
Tomlyn exchanged a skeptical look with Sylf.
"What? I know how to put things in a dishwasher," Ephraim said.
"Never mind the fact that most of these dishes have to be hand washed, when was the last time you touched the dishwasher?" Tomlyn asked.
"Um… oh! The other day. When I put our coffee mugs away."
"Sideways. You put them in sideways."
Sylf rose and looked at Tomlyn pointedly. "I'll help."
Ephraim crossed his arms, grumbling something about kings and duties and housekeeping. "I'm just trying to be helpful," he muttered.
Tomlyn couldn't help but grin. "You are, E. You can set the record to Deannie Hartin record for us."
"Again? We've been listening to Deannie Hartin all day!"
Before Tomlyn could reply, Sylf moved towards their King. She ran her hand through Ephraim's golden hair affectionately as she said, "When we dance, you can change the record."
"Oh, I suppose that's fair," he huffed.
Sylf ducked her head down and kissed him chastely, and Tomlyn's gaze lingered on the content couple before resuming his work in the kitchen. With Sylf's help, it didn't take too long to get everything squared away. He made his way to the living room, Ephraim relaxing on the couch with his wine.
Tomlyn flipped the record and set the needle. At the swelling of the band, Sylf sauntered over to him and she fit effortlessly into his arms. He didn't think as he waltzed, spun, and dipped her throughout the living room. Instead, he focused on how perfectly she matched him, step for step, how her waist seemed molded just for his hand, and how the world seemed to fall away when he was moving with her.
A slower ballad came on and he pulled her in close, gently swaying with her in time. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, inhaling her wine-tinged, fresh floral scent. Tomlyn wished they could stay like this forever. The three of them, in the penthouse, going about their lives together. But Sylf loved adventuring and the motley crew of the Burning Sensations. What reason would she have to give that up?
Tomlyn's grip on her tightened and he closed the gap between them, savoring her taste, desperate to burn it into his mind. He thought, once the three of them came together, he wouldn't have to hold onto fleeting moments like this. But…maybe he did. After all, it was likely Ephraim was planning on proposing; it wasn't like Tomlyn could give the King heirs.
At least for now, he had this moment of pure bliss and contentment. But then he felt a tapping on his shoulder and he broke the embrace to see Ephraim.
"Might I cut in?" he asked, hesitant. Tomlyn didn't want to, but he let go anyway. As he stepped away, Ephraim's hesitation melted away and he seemed to glow as he chatted with Sylf about what record to put on next.
Finding his brandy, Tomlyn leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping quietly while Ephraim took Sylf in his arms. Ephraim was a good dancer when it was a more formal, ballroom, style and Sylf effortlessly followed his lead to more contemporary Christmas music. In the formal hold, straight backs and polite posture, they looked elegant and regal. Tomlyn knew this was how they always appeared when together, from his view anyway, but he felt it more tonight than he had in a long time.
The pair danced to more lively tunes before a sweeping, romantic rendition of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" came on. Sylf stepped back for a moment, kicking off her tall, glittering black heels, before returning to Ephraim's hold, resting her head on his shoulder. Ephraim's arms went around her waist, as they slowed into a swaying motion. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against hers, a mixture of relief etched into his features. Tomlyn didn't know what he was thinking, but he understood.
Then, Ephraim relaxed, a small smile on his lips as Sylf sighed contentedly in his chest. Tomlyn liked seeing them together and happy. It made him happy. But it made him even happier when Ephraim's eyes opened and locked with his, heated and bright.
Ephraim murmured something to Sylf who opened her eyes and smirked up at him. She responded quietly in kind but Ephraim looked back to Tomlyn.
"Mistletoe?" Tomlyn asked.
"Mistletoe," Ephraim agreed.
Before Sylf could say anything, Tomlyn was taking one of her hands and leading them to the mistletoe in the much better location in the house. He didn't know what changes the morning would bring, but he was definitely going to enjoy this moment with the three of them together, now.
*~0~*
Sylf sat in front of the vanity mirror, gazing at her reflection that wore the ridiculous pajamas Ephraim picked out for her. They were all matching this Christmas morning, in red and green plaid flannel pants and long-sleeved shirts with "Mr./Mrs. Claus" stamped on them in red script. He was in such a good mood when he handed her the set after she stepped out of the shower, that she didn't have it in her to say no. Ephraim had a way like that, King or not.
Still, she wasn't complaining. Both her men were nothing but doting from the moment she stepped off the airship. And with the two of them around her the previous night she felt…ah, yes. Exactly how Tomlyn described the opera cake: Decadent. Indulgent. Just the way she liked it.
Scanning the top of the vanity for her jewelry box, Sylf frowned. The surface was cluttered with Ephraim's various colognes. She began searching, finding her golden box in the large, bottom drawer. Something ticked in her, but she wasn't sure what. Pulling out the box, she shoved the cologne bottles to one side, the glass clinking together daintily.
With her box on the surface, the vanity felt…cluttered. Like the bathroom sinks, even with Tomlyn's attempt to clean up. Much like her jewelry, her makeup and lotions had been shoved in a drawer. Unused. Out of sight.
She glanced around the room, taking in the slate tones of the bedding and dressers. Her gaze fell on the door to the closet that the previous night she opened and then promptly shut. Despite the quite large walk-in closet, Ephraim's clothes, ties, and shoes nearly took up the entire room. Tomlyn had a section along the back, marked by various leather jackets, sneakers, and the occasional suits. But it was clear to Sylf there was simply no room for any of her things.
The twisting, sinking feeling settled in her for a moment before she straightened, scowling. Ridiculous. What was she supposed to do? Ask them to keep her things out when she was hardly around? It wasn't like she went to the penthouse all the time when she saw them anyway—part of her time visiting the pair was also spent at court.
She snapped the jewelry box open and tried focusing on the jewels she wanted to wear for the day. The bedroom door behind her opened and Ephraim entered, smiling brightly.
"Tommy has coffee and breakfast when you're ready, Darling. Make sure to bring out your gifts now too," he said. He paused to kiss her cheek before entering the closet. Sylf watched him as he stood on his toes and strained, attempting to reach up the higher shelf for something. Wordlessly Sylf got up and picked up the wrapped gifts Ephraim was too short to reach.
"Oh, yes, thank you, Darling. If you could—"
Seeing one with her name on it, she gave it a shake. "It's a book," she said.
Ephraim pouted at her cutely. "You're not supposed to guess! Give those to me!" Rolling her eyes, she stacked the glittering boxes with elaborate bows (a book, clothes, more clothes, a small round bowl) in his arms.
As he passed the vanity, he paused, looking into her jewelry box. "You ought to wear the rubies. They'll match perfectly!" She supposed she was wearing a fair amount of red. Rubies it was.
After fixing the studs in her ears and slipping the her black diamond ring into its usual place on her left hand, she went out into the living room. The comforting scent of sizzling bacon and coffee greeted her. Tomlyn, who was setting his own wrapped gifts down under the tree, looked up at her and grinned.
In a few strides he was in front of her, pulling her in for a kiss. "Merry Christmas. Sounds like yours has been good so far," he said. His lazy, breathtaking smile delayed her response.
"Mmm it has. Merry Christmas to you too. Coffee?"
"On the pot," he replied. Sylf immediately moved to the source of caffeine, snagging a few pieces of bacon while pouring her mug.
"Oh, ah, Tommy you know—" Ephraim began to stammer, his ears bright red, but Tomlyn cut him off.
"E., you don't have to apologize every time you bang Sylf when I'm around. That's how this is supposed to go."
"I know but—"
Sylf glanced back to see Tomlyn press his hands against Ephraim's cheeks. Cute. "Stop. Why else do you think I rolled out of bed early and left the room?"
Sylf came back and nestled herself on the couch, sipping on the glorious black coffee. "We did it in the stairwell after you went to sleep last night anyway. Relax," she added.
"The stairwell?!" Ephraim exclaimed, pulling back from Tomlyn's grasp. "You two are just—" he huffed, "The stairwell!"
Tomlyn shrugged. "Well, you were sort of a cockblock yesterday and—"
"We agreed! The first time seeing Sylf again would be the three of us together and—"
"Can we open gifts, now?" Sylf cut in, annoyed. While she let them sort out their rotation with her, this was a little ridiculous.
The two men paused and shared a look before Tomlyn ran his hand through his hair. "You're not a cockblock, E. We did agree."
"I was a little. Normally I wouldn't mind, but it is Christmas," Ephraim replied. They gazed at each other again before Tomlyn took Ephraim's hand, and in a reverent gesture, kissed his knuckles. Ephraim blushed, but didn't look away.
As adorable as this was, Sylf refused to wait to open gifts any longer. She stood and handed each of them her smaller gifts, breaking the spell. Then the rounds of giving began. From Sylf, she gave her men matching socks and new sunglasses a piece. From Tomlyn she received a new lace nightie and lingerie set, and from Ephraim a new thriller novel and small potted succulents for her navigator dashboard on the airship.
Then she reached for her main gift for Ephraim and handed him the box. He took it appreciatively and glanced at the wrapping.
"Oh! This bow is lovely! Did Birdie make it?" he exclaimed, carefully taking the bow off.
"She did," Sylf replied, making a mental note to tell Birdie that her elaborate bows were well liked. There was also a part of her that was pleased that Ephraim knew her friends that well. It had been years, but it wasn't as though they interacted much. The knowledge of it made her happy.
As Ephraim began unboxing the gift, Tomlyn leaned over, giving Sylf a mischievous wink. "You're doing it wrong, E. You're supposed to figure out what's inside first."
"No, I'm not!" their King huffed. "It's supposed to be a surprise and—" Ephraim gasped dramatically, pulling out the old, leather bound tome. "Is this what I think it is?!"
"If, by that," Sylf started slowly, "you mean a first edition of the first adventure of Varric Verinitras and Anders of Anderfall in A Study of Violet? Then, yes."
"One of the few completed novels in the series, before Art Moyle moved to the serial format!" He squealed, eagerly opening the text. "And it's in relatively good condition too!" He looked up at her, glowing. "Oh, Darling, this is simply wonderful! How did you—no, never mind I don't want to know. But I must thank you properly!"
He stood, drawing her in for a kiss that sent a warmth through her that reached her toes. After a long moment, Ephraim pulled back, grinning childishly, his cheeks rosy and golden eyes bright. She was pleased to see him so happy with her gift— she came across the tome months ago when going through a decrepit mansion with the Burning Sensations and she knew it would be perfect.
"Perhaps we could read it together?" Sylf asked.
Ephraim drew her close again, a knowing smile on his lips. "On the couch? With a big blanket and some tea?"
Sylf couldn't help her small smile back. "Perfect." Ephraim embraced her again, sweet and chaste.
Then, Sylf turned her attention to Tomlyn. He was trickier to gift for. Ever the minimalist, Tomlyn didn't like owning a lot of material things. But this time, she knew she found something perfect. Pointing at the drow she said, "Your turn. Close your eyes."
Tomlyn arched his eyebrows and with a mischievous grin closed his eyes. Sylf looked at Ephraim and he grinned. He set the book down and walked around the other side of the couch, covering Tomlyn's eyes with his hands.
"Kinky, E."
"Oh, you—hush, Tommy."
Sylf rolled her eyes as she went into the study and retrieved her prize from defeating the Banshee Box. It was bulky and a bit heavy, so she wasn't able to wrap it. In some ways, this was better though. Stealthily, she brought it back into the living room and set it on the coffee table in front of Tomlyn.
"Alright, you can look now," she instructed. Ephraim removed his hands and the first sight of the contraption wiped the flirtatious grin off Tomlyn's face. He leaned forward in disbelief.
"This…it can't be! A Forengé music disk?!"
"It is," Sylf said.
The music disk in question was carved out of an ore Sylf didn't recognize but it was clearly extravagant and crafted by a mater tinkerer. The base was carved from a dark ore with a sheen that looked black one way and a mix of dark blue and purple from another. Throughout the base, various gemstones were inlaid to give the impression of glistening cave walls. The base supported a round, glassy disk at the top, glittering in hues of blue, black, and purple. Sylf assumed it was supposed to resemble a lake, but she wasn't completely sure.
Tomlyn ran his fingers delicately along the base. "My Grandmother had one of these. She used to play it for me in her room and I would dance in circles, making myself dizzy to the music. I loved it. But, when she died, Mother…" he swallowed hard, his voice beginning to break.
"Try it out," Sylf said gently.
Wordlessly Tomlyn reached for the device. In the enclave, it took Tak a few moments to figure out how to wind it up, but Tomlyn found it almost instantly, pressing a glossy obsidian stone inward. Sweet, chiming music began to play as ethereal drow figures began to dance on the disc.
"Wow," Ephraim breathed.
Tomlyn sat back, stunned, his eyes fixated on the figures. "How did—where—"
Sylf sat next to him and placed her hand on his arm. "We heard rumors about an intact Forengé disk the other day, but everyone who ventured down to retrieve it never returned. I was able to convince the others to take the detour and check it out." She paused, then added, "You really ought to thank Tak. She piloted us there without complaint and stayed up through the night to get me back here in time for dinner."
Tomlyn stared at her, shocked and then ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I'm such an idiot," he murmured. Sylf frowned, though it seemed the comment was aimed at himself. He glanced back to her. "You're amazing, you know that right?"
Normally, she would retort with a, 'naturally,' but this time she simply squeezed his arm affectionately. "I'm glad it brings back good memories for you," she said.
Tomlyn reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "Thank you." His voice was horse and low, full of raw emotion that he rarely displayed.
Sylf's hand slipped into his, and she closed her eyes, basking in his natural musky and wood-burning scent. She absorbed the quiet of the moment, and the unspoken understanding between them. She may not have a place within the penthouse, but being with Tomlyn like this always made her feel at home.
*~0~*
Ephraim decided to let Sylf and Tommy have their moment, and he slipped away quietly to the office. He went to the drawer where he hid his presents and pulled them out one by one. He swallowed, staring at the boxes on the desk, knowing that this was no ordinary gift.
Nervous, he opened the envelope with his carefully written speech and skimmed over it again, just to be sure. His words, the pouring of his heart, consecrated on the page made him feel silly and embarrassed. He couldn't do this. He simply just could not put himself out there—
Without thinking, Ephraim whipped out his phone and rang up his cousin. When she picked up he blurted, "Tell me I'm not going to make a fool of myself!"
"Of course not!" Kassandra snorted from the other end. "They're going to say yes. Sylf won't be able to resist gems that size and Tomlyn will cry, mark my words."
"I'm the crier, not Tommy," Ephraim sighed.
"We'll see," she harrumphed. "Now, buck up and get this over with already so I can officially begin planning what will be the most fabulous, envied, and talked about wedding in the history of the Aurelia family!"
Ephraim let out a breath mangled with a laugh. "Glad to know this is really about you, Kassie."
"Naturally, my dear Cousin." She let out an airy sigh on the other end and added, "You'll call me first after they say yes?"
Ephraim smiled a little. "Of course. Merry Christmas, Kassie."
"Yes, yes, Merry Christmas to you too. Get on with it already!"
Despite Kassandra's abrupt end to the call, her pep talk was all the push he needed. Without another thought, lest he talk himself out of what he was about to do, he slipped his ring box into his pocket, grabbed the presents and envelope, and marched out of the office.
Sylf and Tommy were video calling what looked like the Burning Sensations. "Oh!" Sylf said, turning towards Ephraim as he approached the couch, "Ephraim is back. Say hello to everyone."
Ephraim greeted them all exuberantly as he could muster but he quickly walked out of frame and set the gifts on the coffee table. It was a bit rude of him, but he was too nervous. Besides, he would see them all at Kassandra's soirée the next day anyway.
Tommy thanked them again for battling the banshee and retrieving the music disk and Sylf hung up the call. They looked cozy on the couch, Sylf leaning against Tommy, his arm slung around her shoulder. They looked natural and effortless together, as always. He reminded himself that he looked that way with them too.
Anxiously he set the gingerbread wrapped box in front of Tommy, and the holly wrapped box in front of Sylf. As Tommy leaned forward eagerly to take the box, Ephraim pulled it back out of his reach.
"Not yet! No guessing!" Ephraim said it a bit more harshly than he intended, likely from the nerves, but Tommy paused and raised his hands in innocence, before leaning back into the couch.
"Ignore him," Sylf said smoothly. She sat up, Tommy's arm slipping off her shoulders, and she gestured to the envelope. "It's alright, go ahead."
"Ah, yes." Ephraim cleared his throat and pulled out the speech. He unfolded it slowly and looked back up at his loves. Sylf sat, legs crossed, nursing her coffee, while Tommy was sprawled in the corner of the couch, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm of his making.
Ephraim took a deep breath, hands shaking slightly, and began to read.
"Tommy, Sylf, I never imagined I would find love this way, but I can't imagine my life without either of you. It was clear from the moment I saw you two interact how much you loved each other, even if you didn't know it then. You did not just welcome me into your lives, but you made space for me to be a part of something so special and precious. I am still in awe and humbled by how fortunate I am.
"These past few years together, the three of us, I've learned a lot and deepened a love that started as a seedling in the ground so many years before. It took some time, but we found what works for us and I think it works well. So, now, I ask that you move with me into the unknown once again."
Ephraim glanced up, his heart pounding wildly, but years of keeping composure at court held him together. He sucked in a breath as he slid the gingerbread box towards Tommy. Tommy grinned and snatched it from the table. "Finally!" he exclaimed. He shook it, sending jolts of panic through Ephraim.
"Something light. Not much in there. Huh." Tommy frowned as he set the box in his lap, thinking. Then he shrugged and lifted the lid. Reaching inside, he froze and looked up at Ephraim, shocked.
"What is it?" Sylf asked.
"I…I thought that…" Tommy trailed off, looking between Ephraim and Sylf wide eyed, but Ephraim simply smiled at him.
"I know. Maybe, next time, don't pick my pockets?"
"What?" Sylf scowled. But her scowl faltered as Tommy held up the ring box between his fingers. Her face went still but Ephraim forced himself to focus on Tommy.
He moved to the side of the table and knelt down on one knee. Tommy looked down at him, his red eyes wide and still in disbelief. Gently, Ephraim opened the ring box to reveal a simple tungsten band. A circular, deep red ruby was in the center with two diamonds of a similar size on either side. Simple, but stunning. Ephraim picked up his speech and looked up at Tommy as he continued,
"Tomlyn, you are my closest friend. I never expected to love you the way that I do, but I am eternally grateful. You have stood behind me for so long, uplifting my spirits and supporting me not just as a liege but as a person. We were always strong in our friendship, but through our darkest days, consumed with grief, our bond of friendship blossomed into a love that feels stronger with each day.
"I ask now that you stand by me as I wish to stand by you, no longer hidden away but together for all to see. Side by side, no longer in the shadows." Ephraim gently touched Tommy's hand holding the ring, his heart full and asked, "Will you do me the honor of becoming my Royal Consort and marrying me, Tomlyn?"
Tommy ran his hand through his hair, his eyes watery as he stared back at Ephraim. "Yes," he croaked. He cleared his throat and laughed, "Yes! Always, yes!"
Then Tommy was pulling Ephraim towards him into a crushing embrace. Ephraim didn't know why he thought Tommy would laugh at him, if anything, he seemed relieved and overjoyed, which is what Ephraim hoped for. After a long moment, he finally drew back, Tommy looking more stunning than he ever remembered.
Tommy slipped the ring onto his finger and stared down at it, grinning widely as he wiped his eyes. He took Ephraim's hands and squeezed them affectionately and Ephraim felt a joy so strong he felt that in this moment he could do anything. His gaze slid over to Sylf, but her gaze was fixated on the holly-wrapped box. Tommy winked at him, and gestured with his head towards Sylf.
The euphoria of Tommy saying yes kept him together. Ephraim knew Tommy was likely to accept his proposal—they'd been more or less joined at the hip for the past several years. But Sylf?
Ephraim breathed deeply as he slowly walked to the other side of the coffee table. She looked up at him, her expression blank. No, simply processing, but it was impossible to tell what exactly what whirling through her mind. He felt his resolve waver, but he grounded himself. He had to at least try.
"Sylf, my Darling," he began, "with you, it was love at first sight. Even in disguise, I could not get you out of my mind." His voice, clear and strong gave him the confidence boost he needed to continue. "You're someone I've always deeply admired and aspired to emulate in your confidence, self-assuredness, and intelligence. You always pushed me to be the best version of myself, to embrace who I am and who I wish to be, and the years I spent getting to know you and forming an unlikely friendship and love with you are some of my most cherished memories."
Ephraim set his speech aside and opened the holly box, pulling out the ring box. Sylf sat, her hands neatly folded in her lap, her back straight, her face guarded in the stilled elven stare. Getting down on his knee again, he opened it and held it out to her. Her eyes flared at the sight of the ring and she leaned forward a little as Tommy let out a low whistle.
"Now that's a ring," Tommy grinned.
Ephraim returned the grin as he said, "Well, our Darling does have high standards for her jewels. I didn't want to disappoint." The ring he painstakingly designed, with Kassie's help (she refused to be left out of the process), contained three large, deep red rubies set in a rose gold band. There were small pearls set between the rubies on the wide band and on each outer edge was a mid-sized round diamond. It was a gaudy piece, oozing in wealth and indulgence, but it was, above all else, befitting of a Queen.
Sylf reached for the ring, the large black diamond glinting on her hand. Before she could reach the box, though, Tommy moved closer to her and took her hand. Ephraim watched silently as they exchanged a quiet look as Tommy slowly slid the diamond ring off her left hand and transferred it to her right. Then he kissed her knuckles and said something in Undercommon that Ephraim didn't understand, but it seemed Sylf did. She gazed at him lovingly, the sharpness of her eyes softening a bit as her lips curved into a small smile. Then she turned back to Ephraim and the glow of her visage nearly made his heart burst.
"Sylf," Ephraim continued softly, "I ask more of you than Tommy. I know it isn't fair of me, but I…I want you by my side each and every day. I want you to be there when I fall asleep and when I wake in the morning. I want to take tea with you each afternoon and spend time with you in the gardens. I want you as my wife—"
"Our wife," Tommy interjected.
"Our wife," Ephraim amended, "to bear our children and grow our family. But, also, to stand by my side as my Queen, and all that entails."
She raised her chin proudly, her sharp green eyes fixated on him. He sucked in a breath as he slowly asked, "Sylf, will you do me the honor of—"
"Yes!" Sylf interjected, rushed. Ephraim blinked, then smiled, giddy and elated.
"You gotta let him finish!" Tommy said.
"He was taking too long," she groused.
Ephraim laughed. "Then, let me try again. Marry me?"
"Yes! Now put it on me already," she said, waving her hand. Tommy shook his head but Ephraim didn't mind as he slipped the ring onto her left hand. The ring was so large it seemed to consume the lower part of her finger, but she was clearly pleased and that was all that mattered. Ephraim rose and he pulled her onto her feet but before he could close the distance between them she said abruptly,
"I don't want to live here. The penthouse." Everything in Ephraim froze. Did she mean to continue adventuring full-time?
"Oh?" Ephraim managed to say. From the corner of his eye he saw Tommy stand.
Sylf glanced away from Ephraim, her cheeks flushed and her grip on him tightening. "I—I want a new place. For the three of us."
Instantly Ephraim felt at ease. "Of course, Darling." He raised a hand and tilted her chin back so she was looking at him. "Whatever you desire. And, as much as I love this place, it is a bit crowded."
"That's because your clothes take up the entire closet and drawers," Tommy grunted.
Ephraim ignored him and returned his attentions to Sylf, who looked relieved. "I…want to fit here too," she said softly.
"There is no fitting without you," Ephraim murmured before closing the gap between them for a slow, heated kiss. He felt Tommy's hand slip into his pocket and Ephraim broke the kiss to see Tommy holding up the box between his fingers grinning.
Ephraim shook his head, but it was a halfhearted disapproval as Tommy opened the box to show Sylf the signet ring. Smiling she raised Ephraim's left hand and Tommy took the ring out of the box, slipping it onto his hand. Seeing all three rings together, the rubies and diamonds glistening made Ephraim's words catch in his throat and his eyes well. His heart felt so full, like a flower freshly watered and sunned—full of everything he could possibly need to live and thrive.
"Damnit, E. You can't cry like that," Tommy croaked, his own eyes welling up and spilling over. Ephraim laughed as he wiped his face and Sylf reached up to brush Tommy's tears aside, her own eyes misty.
"I'm just so happy. I love you both so much," Ephraim replied.
Tommy's gaze softened. "Love you too, E." He turned to Sylf, "And you too, more than you know."
In elvish, Sylf replied, "My heart carries yours as the sky carries the stars."
Ephraim drew her in for another kiss, feeling Tommy's arms around him as he placed a kiss at the nape of Ephraim's neck. Ephraim turned and Tommy raised his mouth to his, sweet and earnest. He couldn't wait to tell everyone and—
"Oh!" Ephraim exclaimed, breaking the kiss. "I have to call Kassie!"
Tommy groaned in protest. "Can't that wait?"
"No, no, she knows all about this and is expecting a call!" Ephraim pulled out his phone. "Wait, pictures! We should take pictures and then call Kassie!"
"I suppose I should call the others as well," Sylf mused. "You know that Shanea will be part of officiating the ceremony, right?"
"Hold on sec, no she's not because she's a fanatic and E., pictures and calls can wait! Come on, we're engaged! Can't we get back to the romance bit?" Tomlyn exclaimed.
But Ephraim was already getting his camera ready and Sylf getting into position, trying out poses while showing off the ring. Resigned, Tommy ran his hand through his hair.
"Business first, today Tomlyn. Then pleasure," Sylf said lightly.
Going to Ephraim's other side, Tommy ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah."
"I'm pretending to ignore that you insulted one of my besties, by the way," she added warningly.
"I mean, it's not an insult if it's true—"
"Oh, knock it off you two! I want to take this picture!" Ephraim chided. He could see a look exchanged between the two in the camera as he adjusted the width. "Okay, now, one, two, Merry Christmas!"
Ephraim was taken by surprise as both Tommy and Sylf placed a kiss on either side of his cheek, all of them holding up their hands, showing off the matching rings. And out of all the subsequent photos they took, that first one became his favorite. They were both a surprise in his life, and now people that he simply could not live without. With the both of them by his side, Ephraim knew no matter where he was, he would always feel right at home.
This was a really fun, cute Christmas ficlet that was nice to write after completing NaNoWriMo. Honestly, I'm just glad to get it up before New Years haha. I don't think it's perfect, but it's fun and was easy to write. In my crazy headcannon, it's very loosely set in the party's future, even after our "Night Out" adventure. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and were able to read during the holidays!