"Scáthach, darling," Medb called out from the kitchen, her voice echoing through the spacious modern home, "Could you please pass me the olive oil?"
From the living room, where she sat regally on the sofa, Professor Scáthach O'Connell barely glanced up from her book. "It's on the counter," she replied in a tone that suggested she'd rather be discussing ancient battles than kitchen inventory.
Medb popped her head around the corner, pink hair bobbing as she searched the gleaming marble surface. "You're sure?"
"Yes," Scáthach said with a sigh, placing a finger to mark her page. "It's right beside the bread. Can you not see it?"
"Oh, I've found it," Medb giggled, waving the bottle in the air. "It was hiding from me. Thanks, love." She disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Scáthach to her historical texts. The faint sound of sizzling meat and the smell of onions filled the house as she resumed her reading.
The living room, with its sleek furniture and minimalist design, was a stark contrast to the warrior queen's usual setting of sprawling castles and raucous feasts. Yet, Medb had managed to infuse a bit of her ancient charm into their modern abode. A vibrant tapestry, a nod to her past, adorned one wall, depicting scenes from their legendary battles. It was a silent testament to their enduring love, despite the vast chasm of time that separated their eras.
"How's the stew coming along?" Scáthach called out, unable to resist the tantalizing aromas.
"Almost done," Medb sang back, her voice muffled by the clanging of pots and pans. "Just like the old days, right?"
Scáthach rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "If you say so." She was the stoic one, the serious one. In their past lives, she'd been the teacher, the one who molded warriors from mere mortals. Now, she was a professor at Trinity College, sharing her ancient wisdom with students who had no idea of the power she'd once wielded.
The aroma grew stronger, and Scáthach felt her stomach rumble. She closed her book, deciding that a break was in order. As she approached the kitchen, she noticed the time on the stainless steel fridge. "Medb, it's almost seven. Shouldn't you be setting the table?"
Medb looked up, her golden eyes twinkling mischievously. "But where's the fun in that? Besides, I thought you liked it when I surprise you."
Scáthach raised an eyebrow. "Surprise me with dinner, yes. Surprise me with the house on fire, no."
Medb giggled again, the sound as light as a summer breeze. "You worry too much. Now, go sit. You're the queen tonight, I'll do everything."
Scáthach couldn't help but chuckle. Despite her scholarly demeanor, she knew that when Medb set her mind to it, she could be as stubborn as a mule. "Fine," she conceded, retreating back to the sofa. "But I'm holding you to that."
In the kitchen, Medb stirred the stew, humming an ancient tune that seemed out of place amidst the beeping microwave and the hum of the fridge. She glanced over her shoulder at the tapestry, a warmth spreading through her heart. It had been a long road to this life, but she wouldn't trade it for all the gold in Connacht. With a final flourish, she added a pinch of salt and turned down the heat.
The dinner bell, a quaint little relic from their past, chimed, and Scáthach emerged from the living room. "That smells heavenly," she said, taking a seat at the dining table.
Medb placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of her. "It's your favorite. Venison with root vegetables and a hint of rosemary."
Scáthach took a bite, closing her eyes to savor the flavor. "It's perfect," she murmured, her scarlet eyes opening to meet Medb's golden gaze. The warmth in the room was not just from the food but from the love that lingered between them, a love that had transcended centuries.
As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with tales of the day's mundane events. Medb spoke of her neighborhood gossip, her eyes dancing with amusement at the trivial dramas, while Scáthach recounted her students' futile attempts to outwit her during history class. "One tried to say the Trojan War was a mere myth," she said, shaking her head. "As if I wasn't there to see it unfold."
Medb giggled, her laughter tinkling like fine china. "I can imagine their faces when you told them the truth," she said, taking a sip of her wine.
"Ah, but I didn't," Scáthach said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I let them believe what they will. It's more entertaining that way."
The meal was finished, and the dishes cleared away. As the evening stretched out before them, Medb suggested a movie night, a modern pastime they'd grown to enjoy. "What's it tonight?" Scáthach asked, her interest piqued.
"A rom-com," Medb replied, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I thought it would be a nice change of pace from all the battles and bloodshed we're used to."
Scáthach raised an eyebrow. "Romance in the 21st century, huh? Let's see how much it's changed."
They settled on the sofa, Medb choosing the film with a knowing smile. The opening credits rolled, and Scáthach found herself drawn into the world of contemporary love and laughter. It was a stark contrast to the battles they'd once shared, but she couldn't deny the comfort she found in the simplicity of holding Medb's hand and laughing at the screen.
As the movie played out, they shared a quiet intimacy, each lost in their thoughts. Scáthach felt a sense of peace wash over her. Despite the chaos of modern life, she had found her place. Here, with Medb, in this ordinary housewife's life, she was still the warrior queen she had always been, just in a different battlefield.
The film ended with a predictable but satisfying kiss, and Medb turned to her. "What did you think?" she asked, her voice soft.
"It was... enlightening," Scáthach said, her tone teasing. "But I prefer our kind of romance. The kind with swords and danger."
Medb leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "Well, I can arrange for that," she whispered, her breath warm against Scáthach's cheek. "But maybe we should save that for the weekend."
And with that, the ancient lovers shared a kiss of their own, a promise of adventures to come, both in their quiet suburban life and in the secret world of myth that only they knew.
As the night deepened, they retreated to their bedroom, the soft glow of the moonlight spilling through the curtains. Medb curled up against Scáthach, her head on her shoulder, and sighed contentedly. "I never thought I'd say this," she murmured, "but I think I'm starting to like this modern living."
Scáthach wrapped an arm around her, her scarlet eyes reflecting the moon's silver light. "It has its moments," she conceded, stroking Medb's hair. "But remember, I'm still the one who has to face the barbarians at the college gates every day."
Medb giggled, snuggling closer. "I'll be your shield, love," she said, her voice thick with sleep. "Always."
Scáthach smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets. "And I'll be your sword," she whispered back. "Now rest. We'll conquer tomorrow together."
With that, they drifted off to sleep, lulled by the gentle hum of the city outside their windows. The house was silent, the tapestry watching over them like a silent sentinel from the past. As the world outside continued to evolve, they remained an unshakeable bastion of love and companionship, a bridge between the ancient and the new, forever entwined in their own epic saga.