Fantasy All's Fair

[Aerynth]

Her good hand ended up in Remin's hair, stroking it softly. Under different circumstances, Cyreia might have worried about messing her hairdo up, but quite honestly, it hadn't really been presentable even before her touch. What they had done yesterday had left her looking wild and untrestrained. Also completely enchanting, at least as far as she was concerned, though it wasn't an appropriate look to wear in court. Only her eyes could see this. Remin would have to fix her hair later anyway, so Cyreia could touch it freely for now. "Guilty as charged," she laughed, enjoying the attentions paid to her neck. "I really don't. They did warn me that corruption would be pleasant and I didn't listen. Oh, woe is me." Ultimately, they would have to get up, but-- they could steal a few more moments for themselves. The bed was too warm to leave, Remin's body too comfortable to rest against. Besides, didn't she deserve to rest for a bit? The healer had commanded her to do so and, like a good patient, Cyreia was just following the instructions.

She raised herself on her good elbow and, for a while, just watched Remin silently; the way sunlight fell on her face, the way she smiled, they way some of her still naked skin showed underneath the blanket, all of it looked utterly fascinating to her. God, was it even possible to love a person more that? Likely not. Feeling even stronger than this would have made her explode. Cyreia kissed her on the lips; it was brief, a mere shadow of the passion they had shared before, but gentle. Loving. "This might really turn out to be a problem, though. If I am to wake up by your side every day, how will I ever find the motivation to leave the bed, hm?" she asked, her tone light and teasing. "There are so many fun things we could do here, after all." Once, Cyreia might have felt embarrassed about flirting with her so directly, but after what had happened yesterday? Not a chance. They had gone way, way further than flirting already and here, in the privacy of their bedroom, they didn't have to pretend otherwise. And to think she had dreaded spending the nights with her before!

 

[Conifer]

"Perhaps we will need separate rooms after all." Remin giggles softly, reaching up to brush a strand of wayward hair from Cyeria's face, though it lingers there, cupping her cheek. Will she ever tire of simply being able to reach out and touch? Gods, she hoped not. She'll be a fool if she ever does, and she'll deserve whatever fate befalls her as a result. "Or we'll have to simply learn restraint." That seemed just as unlikely as her growing tired of touch. How long had her vow not to kiss her lasted? A day? Gods, it felt so long ago, and it seems so silly now. They wouldn't learn restraint. They'd maybe learn how to make use of their time, but restraint? Maybe years from now, when she'd learned all of her that she could, they'd manage that. But for now? Now, all she wanted to do was press herself as close to Cyeria as she could and never leave. Remin leaned up, kissing her softly, as if to prove to them both that her proposed solution was a terrible one. "Or we'll just deal with it." She murmurs. "We're royalty. They'll wait for us. They already don't like us - we may as well give them a bit of a reason."


She imagined what it may be like, to step in front of her - their - people and simply be honest with them. /Your king is a woman who I love dearly/, she'd say, and in this fantasy, it wouldn't matter. But -- no, that's not how it would go at all. It would simply result in more accusations of treachery, and a renewed want to replace Cyeria with someone more approved - someone who hadn't, in the perspective of Athea, lied to become king. Well. Perhaps someday she could at least say the second openly, and they'd keep her secret easily enough. It would all be perfectly alright.

 

[Aerynth]

"Yes, restraint, because we're so good at these things. That will work," Cyreia giggled. God, all those promises she had said to herself seemed so absurd in retrospect. Not getting too attached, not kissing her for the second time, staying away. All of those had been broken within a few days and she had never been happier for her lack of willpower. If loving her meant being weak, then so be it. Cyreia would embrace weakness. Too much of her life had been consumed with pretending to be strong when she had felt anything but that anyway. Why not be honest with herself for once? Honesty had opened so many doors for her in Athea; perhaps pursuing it could be worth her while. "And I was actually hoping you'd offer me a more tempting reward for getting up and doing my job. I suppose, though, that I'm also fine with people simply having to get used to our shenanigans. That's a solution as well." A solution that would, of course, never be employed. Even in a king with a more stable position than her couldn't afford to be so foolish. Imagining a world where this was possible, though? A world where they could throw caution to the wind? There was no harm in dreaming.

Greedy for touch, Cyreia caressed Remin's face gently before letting her hand fall lower, somewhere in the area of her shoulder. "So, what's the plan for today, my queen?" she smiled. "As much as I'd love to stay in bed for the rest of the day and engage in... more pleasant activities, I should also do something productive." There were so many things for her to do, to learn, that Cyreia wouldn't know where to start. She did know, however, that starting sooner rather than later would make it all easier in the long run. "Don't worry, you don't need to throw pillows at me or anything, I'm not planning to start right now. It would just be nice to know so that I can prepare for it mentally."

 

[Conifer]

She sighs softly. Cyeria was right. Even if they weren't about to get out of bed and start their day, they should at least figure out where to start first when they finally got together the will to do that. "We've created quite the laundry list for ourselves," Remin says softly. "So I suppose we start with checking in with the advisors about what we've missed, if anything." One of them had been on that list in the plot against Cyeria, and honestly, she had no idea what to do with that information. That was riskier than she'd like, having him around still, but perhaps he could be swayed, if he understood the situation more fully? "One of them are in on the conspiracy, so, at some point, we should address that." Remin says - there's no need to try to handle that alone. There's no need to handle much alone anymore. "But honestly, that may be the bottom of the list. We have Tr-" She pauses, starting again. "Lord Vestat to tend to; I still need to write his sister, and then hope that he'll pull through on his side of the deal we made - so I'll need to write him, as well." Despite her just thinking she didn't have to handle anything alone, this felt like something she did. With support, though - she wasn't too proud to admit that support would help. "We may have gotten word from Hadsberry by now, with their decision. And we need to start in on finding new members for the council." Gods, they really /had/ made a mess in the past two weeks, hadn't they? "And Maric. We'll have to deal with Maric."

She didn't want to do any of that, though. She didn't just wanted to lay in bed and pretend that they could still mostly-ignore responsibility; they weren't even really supposed to be back home for another day. Surely they could just pretend they weren't. They'd arrived late enough that most the staff hadn't seen them (though, she was sure, they all knew at this point, considering the state they'd returned in, and with a visitor in tow.) The two of them could just hide away in bed until tomorrow. Well- no, they certainly couldn't. But Remin could imagine that they could. At least they had a short while yet that she could linger this close to Cyeria. "And we really do need to get you proper clothes. And perhaps a better solution than those bindings for your chest- there has to be something that can be made."

 

[Aerynth]

God, maybe she shouldn't have asked at all. It had to have been done, that much was obvious, but ruining such a nice moment didn't feel justifiable. No, that's not right. It isn't ruined. They were still in their bed, still close enough to touch, still basking in the afterglow of yesterday. So what if they also discussed their duties now? That, too, was a part of their married life. Hell, had their feelings not taken over, it would have been the entire point behind their marriage. Complaining about it made no sense. It didn't mean that she didn't want to do exactly that, but Cyreia knew when to swallow her words. Most of the times at the very least.

"Ugh," she said, "I swear that my headache got worse just hearing about it. But-- don't worry, we'll manage. It'll be fine." For a second, Cyreia was silent, trying to put everything Remin had told her into perspective. What did they need to deal with first? "Alright, the treacherous advisor. That's... potentially dangerous, but he can be a convenient source of information if we play our cards right. We can just pretend not to know anything about the conspiracy and then try to win him over somehow." Which was, naturally, easier said than done. Still, getting rid of him wouldn't serve them well; the alliance would surely find that incredibly suspicious. "As for the letters, you really should take care of lady Emelia as I doubt she'd like to hear the news from me, but-- I can handle Vestat for you, if that's what you'd prefer." Remin shouldn't be forced to deal with her parents' murderer, especially since Cyreia was more than capable of that. Contacting him wouldn't require a lot of diplomatic finesse. On the contrary, a willingness to resort to... cruder means of persuasion might be beneficial here. Hadn't she made quite a fine impression on him the last time? "We can talk about Hadsberry and the council later, but there's one thing I've been meaning to ask regarding Maric's situation. What about lord Gregor? How did he react to our sudden departure? To losing his son?" Gregor was an immensely important piece in the dangerous game they were playing. Had he noticed something he shouldn't have? Because if he contacted his allies about it, the consequences could be devastating. The issue with tailor seemed to be fairly unimportant in comparison.

 

[Conifer]

"He was...unsettlingly willing to play along." Remin tucks herself back up against Cyeria, touching as much as her as she could manage, just all warm bare skin against warm bare skin. It was as grounding as it was comforting, which Remin found to be a boon in this moment, discussing these things that she'd rather put out of her mind in its entirety. But that wasn't the life she led, nor would it likely ever be. Maybe some day there'd be someone to pass all these responsibilities onto, but that was dozens of years from now at the very least. Now, at least, she didn't need to handle them alone. "Not pleased with it, but I'd asked the healer to tell him she advised we bring you home, and Maric claimed to join us to make sure we arrived alright. So there was little room to protest, if he wanted to seem polite." It had been stupidly transparent, in hindsight, but she couldn't bring herself to terribly care. It had worked well enough, and honestly, Gregor was hopefully pleased to think that they didn't know anything of his plot against his son.

"We'll have to do something about all of it," She says. "Make up some excuse for Maric to stay, or find some use for him elsewhere, safely away from his father. I...don't like the man, but he's proven an ally, and we have precious few of those - and fewer still-" Just him, as far as she was aware, "-who know even half the truth of everything." She presses a kiss to Cyeria's shoulder, of the injured arm, as if that could heal her and replace that being an additional thing to worry about. "Perhaps we find him a spot on the council, if he's amenable to it. If he has the skills to." She wasn't entirely sure he did, if his offer of help had been cosmetics, but...Well. They'd see. They needed bodies they could trust there.

 

[Aerynth]

Embracing Remin with one working arm wasn't exactly simple, but Cyreia still tried. It was more about the intent than the result of the action anyway and-- well, she also welcomed each excuse to touch her. Not that excuses were necessary anymore. She could just... reach out and do it, and the gesture would be accepted gracefully. Ah, how sweet that was. "I'll write a letter to Gregor, too," she decided. "I'll thank him for his hospitality, maybe send him some gift and inform him that Maric is going to stay here." If there had been any doubts about his loyalties, those had been destroyed when everything he had said had turned out to be true. Cyreia supposed that, technically, the whole assassination attempt could have been a part of some complicated ruse to get them to trust him, but that didn't seem too likely. Too convoluted. Even entertaining that thought felt profoundly absurd, so she discarded it quickly. No matter how many enemies surrounded them, paranoia wasn't the right way to approach their rule. "I actually planned to employ him, but I never really got to speak to him about his abilities. Everything happened too fast after that." Her memory was still a bit hazy when it came to that incident, but that would probably clear up in time. Head injuries just worked that way.

"Having him on the council might be a good idea if he proves to be capable of handling the task." His youth could cause some controversy, at least if Atheans placed as much importance on age as Eupriunians tended to, but it wasn't like they didn't hate her already for reasons beyond her control. This would be a minor transgression in comparison to everything else. Cyreia kissed Remin on the forehead, apparently deep in thought. "I assume, though, that most of the new councilors should hail from Caldora. People who know the city and its issues better than outsiders do." Also people who would be trusted by the locals. That, too, was an important component of making this work. "I've been wondering. Does one need to be of noble lineage to serve as a councilor or can anyone take up the job? Because we might want to turn to experienced merchants, clerks and such rather than to aristocrats if we have the choice. Ordinary people don't seem to have such a personal problem with my existence and they will likely be grateful enough for the promotion to actually be loyal. What do you think?"

 

[Conifer]

She's quiet for a moment, thinking over Cyeria's proposal. "It's...unconventional," She finally says. "But not a terrible idea." From many angles, honestly, it was a good one. "It may...complicate your relationship with the nobility, but that's going to be difficult regardless. And if we're clear it was your idea, then it would do wonders for you with the ordinary people." She was right - only the ones who she'd truly impacted in the war seemed to mind her at all. But there was better than 'not mind', and it was 'actively support'. Remin doubted if Cyeria would ever really have the support of the nobility, besides the easy ones like Lady Everbright had been - but ultimately, it didn't matter, as long as enough of the people who actually mattered in all of this mess took a liking to their king. That could save their lives - or at least wouldn't lead to more poisonings instead of less. "I'll have the advisers check the official rulings, but I doubt there's anything in there about anyone needing to be noble. And if there is...What's all of this worth if we can't overrule a few things?"

Remin finally pulled herself to sit up, though it was a lazy thing, without too much intention behind it. "We've made a mistake, though, my king." Remin murmurs, leaning back down to kiss Cyeria again, soft and slow, their plotting and planning forgotten for the moment. "No politics before breakfast. For the sake of everyone, really - decisions made on an empty stomach aren't quite as good as ones made on a full one." It was, perhaps, an excuse to stall this morning, to keep their plotting from dragging them from bed for a few minutes longer. Eventually, they'd have sorted everything out and have nothing left to do but get up and force themselves to action. Breakfast was an excellent excuse to push that off. It was also an excellent excuse to slip from bed and allow Cyeria's eyes to settle on her bare skin in a way that, after last night, she found more comforting and thrilling than terrifying. Remin reached for a soft robe, tucking it around herself to hide her lack of night clothes as she opened the door; it was quick enough to wave down a passing member of staff and ask for them to pass on a message to the kitchen. Breakfast was likely already made, and perhaps already eaten by Maric; they wouldn't have to wait for it long.

 

[Aerynth]

"Yes," Cyreia smiled. "Giving them a chance to actually influence something in a meaningful way would likely be appreciated." It would be just as reviled by the nobility, but you couldn't please everyone. Not unless you chose to dedicate all your energy to not stepping on anyone's toes, which wasn't something Cyreia wanted to do. There was a fine line between treating your subjects kindly and being subservient. Lacking a spine. No king had ever made his country prosperous through cowardice and she certainly didn't plan to go down that route. "I also honestly think that it might be good for the capital itself. I mean, the nobles have a very different perspective from most of the citizens. What could they possibly know about the struggles of smallfolk?" Cyreia still remembered what it felt like, having to obey people who clearly had no idea what she faced every day. Lords and sons of lords whose only merit was being born with the right name. The injustice had always left a bitter taste in her mouth and now-- now she could actually do something about it. Slowly and carefully, of course, because the aristocracy would be less than happy about being stripped of some of their power, but it was better than nothing. A gradual change.

Would Remin actually agree with her, though? She'd been born and raised in the same system Cyreia disliked. In the world of nobility. Then again, her wife had nothing against her potentially installing ordinary people into positions of power; surely she would understand if she provided an adequate explanation. Hadn't experience taught her that they could discuss just about anything? Cyreia opened her mouth to do just that, to introduce some of her more radical ideas, but the kiss and the sight of Remin's naked form... well, they had their ways of pushing other thoughts into periphery. "I suppose that's true," she murmured, her eyes fixed on her curves and the way she moved, oh so gracefully. Did Cyreia sound distracted? If so, then only because she very much was. Remin must have done it on purpose - everything about her movements looked very deliberate - and somehow, that made it even more appealing. "So I take it you like the way I look at you you," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice as her wife returned to their bed. A servant would come with their breakfast soon, though surely they would knock. There was no need to keep her teasing comments to herself. "Any other special interests I should know about?"

 

[Conifer]

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about." Remin teases as she settles back into bed - still with the robe on, to collect their breakfast when it was brought. The staff would bring it in, but that would require them both to don clothes, and there's very little that sounds less appealing than that at the moment. No, she may as well be somewhat dressed temporarily, than them both dressed properly so far. She settles back against Cyeria, delighting in the closeness that this new step and the safety of home allowed. There was still risk, yes, there always was and always would be. But she trusted most of the people here, and she trusted that she could figure out how to buy their silence if it came to that. Bribery had immeasurable uses, and she wasn't above it. Perhaps that made her terrible - there were usually morally better solutions - but it worked more often than not if you could figure out what to bribe with. Money, surprisingly, was rarely it (though, at that point, she would argue that it's simply bargaining. Compromise. Striking a deal; not truly bribery.) "I was only getting us breakfast. No interests involved." It really doesn't help her teasing lies, the way she leans up to kiss Cyeria. They didn't have terribly much time before breakfast, but you might not have guessed it from the kiss.

"But, since you brought it up," She laughs softly, nearly a giggle. "I do happen to like you looking at me." Her tone fell less teasing as she continued; there was more gravity to this admission than the situation suggested. It was honesty tucked within honesty; yes, she liked the way that Cyeria looked at her like this, all appreciative gaze and want, much the same that Remin looked at her she was sure, but it was far more than that: she liked the way that Cyeria looked at her at any point. It was hard to remember a time where she'd been looked at so...uneventfully; that she'd been honestly seen for Remin and not for a daughter, a member of royalty, now queen. That existed still, but there was something about how Cyeria looked at her, talked with her, that cut straight through it all. Just Remin. Just a wife, just a person.

 

[Aerynth]

Why did it have to be daytime again? Nothing, nothing seemed more appealing at the moment than dragging Remin under the blanket and drowning in her, the way she had yesterday. It was just so unfair; they hadn't even gotten to have a proper honeymoon and now they had to work soon. And Remin seemed to be in such an affectionate mood, too! What a wasted opportunity. Not wasted, just delayed. We can have some fun tonight when we're done with our duties. They undoubtedly would if the greed that laced Remin's touches indicated anything. God, just thinking about it made her shiver. The sun couldn't go down fast enough. "Sure, just as there were no ulterior motives in me escorting you to your room in Rost's inn. I understand you completely," Cyreia nodded and chuckled.

Her teasing smile, however, grew softer at Remin's admission. For some reason, it felt... profound. Perhaps even more intimate than the kisses they had shared, although in a different way. "Well, it is good that you enjoy it because I'm not going to stop any time soon. Since I, in turn, happen to like looking at you, it seems that we compliment each other rather nicely."

It didn't take a long time for the servant to arrive with their food. From the looks of it, it appeared to be a typical Athean breakfast; mostly fruits and pastries, everything light and easy on the stomach. The complete opposite of the Eupriunian ways, though Cyreia would get used to it. It wasn't a terrible change, really. Since she likely wouldn't get to train as much as she had as a soldier, switching to a more healthy diet only made sense. "I don't think I've ever eaten my breakfast while in bed," Cyreia smiled at her wife when she returned with the plates. "They did not condone such things in the army. The bed was for sleeping, end of. Every room had a clear purpose and defying it was the peak of decadence." Every person had a clear purpose, too, now that she thought of it. But wasn't the same true in the court as well? Perhaps the two settings weren't too different after all. Cyreia grabbed one of those ridiculously tiny forks and attempted to eat like a civilized person, though her injuries didn't exactly facilitate it. Having to use her right hand? That didn't work out very well. "Ah, to hell with this. I can't be bothered to do this the proper way. Unless..." Cyreia looked at Remin with a cheeky smile, "Unless you want to feed me? I can't eat with my hands, after all. That would be unbecoming of a king."

 

[Conifer]

Remin moved to the door to accept the food when the loud hollow knock rang through the room, signalling its arrival. When she returned to the bed with the large platter filled with pastries and fruit and fresh juice, though, she allowed the robe to slip back off of her and onto the floor. That, honestly, didn't have terribly much intention behind it besides the fact that it was silly to be the one clothed, especially in the newness of existing like this together - she was still enamored with the ability to reach out and touch whatever scrap of skin of Cyeria's she wanted, and didn't want to take that ability from Cyeria towards herself if she felt so inclined. There was something incredibly luxurious about lounging naked in bed with her lover, eating a well-prepared breakfast, anyways. A robe didn't need to inturrupt that.

Remin, despite herself, couldn't help but laugh at Cyeria's attempts to eat with her left hand. It wasn't so bad that she doubted that the woman could feed herself if she'd been forced to, but that almost made the whole thing more comical. "Gods, I am an influence on you, aren't I?" She teases lightly, reaching for a small slice of a pink fruit and holding it to Cyeria's lips, forgoing the fork entirely herself as well to feed her. "Last breakfast we had here, it had seemed like you'd never met a fork in your life." Perhaps that was less of an interesting parallel than it seemed to be, but Remin found amusment in it. How much had they each changed since then? Very little, at least where food was concerned; Remin doubted that Cyeria had any real issue with eating the breakfast without utensils. Was she going to give up this chance for this soft, quiet bonding though? Absolutely not. "And here I am," She murmurs with a soft smile. "Bare fingered. You're a terrible influence on me as well, I'm beginning to think."

 

[Aerynth]

"That's just slander!" Cyreia protested, though the outrage in her voice was mostly fake. Like eighty percent fake. As if she could be mad at her beautiful wife over such a trifling matter! "Of course I had seen a fork before, in museums and books and such. See? I am not completely uncultured, my queen." The truth was, of course, far less amusing; back then, Cyreia had simply refused to guess which fork might be used for which courses and circumvented the conventions entirely. Too bad that she couldn't do this for the rest of her life, too, because table manners were still stupid and nothing could change her mind about this. Still, they gave her a chance to coax Remin into feeding her, so perhaps the concept wasn't entirely terrible. Just mostly terrible.

Carefully, Cyreia ate the fruit from her wife's hands. The situation must have looked downright absurd; two grown women, both of them naked, with one of them feeding the other. Despite that, though, it didn't feel absurd to her. It was... soft and sensual. The kind of thing Cyreia had never dared to even think about before her arrival in Athea because it had been too distant and unrealistic and obviously too good for someone like her. For someone who had built herself from lies. The part about lies wasn't untrue even now, but-- that wasn't all she was. Not anymore. When she looked in Remin's eyes, they reflected her; Cyreia, not Avther. Yet another gift she had received from her. Was it even possible to return all of the favors, to give her what she had been given? Likely not. Loving her for the rest of her life would have to suffice. "Quite clearly. I'd be disappointed if it was any other way. Could I even call myself a soldier if I didn't corrupt innocent maidens in my free time? I'd have to return all of my medals." That was when Cyreia noticed that Remin's hands were stained with fruit juices and, completely without thinking, brought them to her lips to suck on her fingers. She hadn't even planned to turn this into something more than just breakfast, but, well. This decidedly wasn't innocent. God, memories of the last night flooded her mind again and Cyreia's cheeks reddened a bit. "It's-- not good to be wasteful with one's food, you know?" she attempted to explain.

 

[Conifer]

"Another thing you learned as a soldier, I'm sure," Remin murmurs softly, eyes caught on Cyeria's mouth. She couldn't help but remember the other places that mouth had wandered the night before - and the proof of some of it still lingered in tiny places, more marks against her skin that she'd been (in the light of day, now, embarrassingly) eager for. She'd had to fade the one against her neck, but hopefully these ones could linger until they vanished on their own - and if all continued this well, would be replaced in time. "In-- in the field, I'm sure it's important to not waste anything. Or leave a mess." She continues, reaching blindly for another bit of fruit, not moving her gaze from Cyeria's. She brings it to Cyeria's mouth again.
They don't have time for this, not really, but anyone who would tell them that would be entirely ignored - at least by Remin. They weren't even due back for hours. They were allowed these little scraps of honeymoon where they could find them, and no would could take them from them. She wouldn't allow them it; maybe that was abusing her power, but she, watching Cyeria lick at her fingers, doesn't care in the least bit about any of that.

 

[Aerynth]

"Exactly," Cyreia nodded, her voice thick with want. It made no sense to place herself in this position, of course. They had no time for any of this; sooner rather than later, they would have to get up and do the responsible thing. It wasn't really about making sense, though. With Remin so close to her, naked and alluring, and the phantom of last night hanging between them, Cyreia just couldn't help herself. Would she ever stop wanting her like this? Wanting her so much it felt more like a natural law rather than a conscious decision? She hoped not. That feeling was too precious to lose. "Food is usually scarce," she said, painfully aware of where Remin's gaze was fixed. Of what she wanted. Cyreia would have given it to her - that and much, much more - but... no time. No time. She repeated it in her head over and over as if it was some mantra, as if it could silence her desire and replace it with a sense of duty instead. Needless to say, it didn't work. Knowing that they shouldn't be doing this somehow only made her want it more. Was this what they meant about forbidden fruit tasting sweeter? God. Alright, alright. Clearly, this wasn't the correct way of handling the situation. Should she seek some form of... release instead? Maybe that would be easier. Getting rid of some of that tension would help her clear her head, right? It made sense, sort of, if she wanted it to.

"It's fine to make a mess, though," Cyreia continued, painfully aware that this was a terrible idea and not caring about it at the same time. That, too, was new; Remin really did have a terrible influence on her. The best kind of terrible influence there was, really. "Nobody really cares in the field, especially-- especially if you do it out of necessity. For a good cause. Like, I don't know, sharing your food. We had to do that often, too, and that always got messy." Cyreia took another piece of fruit, but instead of swallowing it, she leaned even closer and kissed Remin; a slow, drawn-out thing that suggested they had way more time than they actually did. When their lips finally parted, Remin was the one with the fruit in her mouth. "See? Messy," she smirked.

 

[Conifer]

Remin let out a soft laugh, unable to help herself at the imagery that whole description conjured (though there slight bit of jealousy that she was well-aware wasn't warranted, which took her by surprise. It had been an imagery her own mind had created to amuse her - there wasn't any point in being jealous of that. That was nothing short of ridiculous. And yet, that twinge existed there all the same. She allowed it to. It was exciting, kind of, even if it was something imagined, to care enough for someone to be jealous over make-believe histories. "Not quite like this, I should hope." She teases softly - there's no need to speak so quietly, not really. There wasn't really anyone else on this wing of the castle. No one to overhear (which was wonderful in the midst of the night before, when they certainly would have been overheard.) And yet, speaking too much louder felt too wrong. "Or perhaps there's some terrible romance novels that are a bit more right than I'd ever have expected for them to be."

She reached for another bit of fruit; they weren't quite free from the guise of breakfast yet, and so she'd continue through the motions of it. Cyeria needed the sustenance, anyways, to help her recover from her injuries. Even that tiny scrap of knowledge served as a reminder that they didn't truly have time for this: but at the moment, what was this but eating breakfast? They weren't doing anything untoward, even if Remin hadn't bothered to move far from Cyeria after their kiss, even if she could still see every tiny detail that settled on her skin from this distance, even if she could feel the warmth from it at this distance. There was nothing wrong with a wife feeding her injured wife. That was normal, even. It was nearly expected - what sort of wife would she be if she didn't dote just a little? And if she seeks out the juiciest piece, and if she holds it a bit too tight, so that juice rolls down her hand, her wrist, then that's entirely an accident and no one can prove otherwise.

 

[Aerynth]

Was it just her or did the fruit taste sweeter from her hands? God, having someone take care of her felt so nice; it almost motivated her to get injured more often. Then again, it wasn't like she needed an excuse to be spoiled by her wife a little bit from time to time. Surely Remin wouldn't protest too much, especially if she reciprocated. "No," Cyreia laughed after eating yet another piece of fruit, "definitely not like this. Though I'll have you know that some people were interested." Danger did have a way of bringing people very close very fast, after all. Wasn't that ultimately what had played a major role in their relationship as well? It likely would have ended up like this even without the adrenaline strengthening their bond, Cyreia supposed, because their temperaments aligned so well. In hindsight, it looked like an inevitability. Breaking all those barriers would have probably taken them years instead of weeks, though. "Not after I became a commander, but before that, when I was still an ordinary soldier? Let's just say that some of my former comrades found me to be rather charming." Cyreia tried to look smug, tried to look as if she was proud of it, though that didn't work out very well. Her smile - a little too tense, a little too twitchy - betrayed her, as it always did.

"Honestly? Those were some of the most awkward moments of my life. I thought that we were friends and then suddenly-- boom. A love confession. It was horrifying. I never managed to repair these friendships, either, because I... reacted in less than desirable ways," Cyreia admitted. "Once, I delivered a whole impromptu speech on the futility of love and human relationships in general and how we, as soldiers, should hold ourselves to a higher standard. There was also the time I switched to talking about weather mid-confession. Very smooth, as you can probably imagine." The memory made her chuckle despite the tiny pang of guilt deep within. Poor guys; none of them had deserved it. Nobody deserved being treated like that after gathering the courage to bare their feelings. "Since this is my extent of experience with romance, I'm surprised that I somehow didn't alienate you, too," she smiled softly.

 

[Conifer]

Very little of any of that surprised her - Cyeria made a handsome man, and the way she'd interacted with her men that they'd met made her seem the charming soldier - and that was with a power difference between them. She could only imagine what that would be like with young, scared men whose only closeness was each other - and equally, she could only imagine how Cyeria, with her secrets, had reacted to all of that. Her stories were humerous, but they were...sad. How long had it been since Cyeria had been able to be known as Remin knew her now? "I'm sure you might have, had we met then." Remin laughs softly, pressing a soft kiss to Cyeria's cheek - purely chaste, despite everything else, just wanting to show her reassuring fond touch (and, maybe just a bit of possessiveness, if she were honest with herself, which she refuses to be about this). "I can only hope I've changed your mind about the futility of human relationships, though."

 

[Aerynth]

"No, I don't think so," Cyreia smiled. "Mostly because I never believed in it in the first place." Ignoring reality had, after all, never been her modus operandi. Even if she had spent many years in de facto isolation, it hadn't been difficult to see that relationships were the main driving force behind... well, almost everything. Wars weren't any different in that regard. A single insult, a single broken promise could warrant sending millions of men to their deaths. What was that if not the rotten fruit of a damaged relationship? Cyreia could find it stupid (as she did), but that didn't really change the situation. People, it seemed, were destined to spend their lives revolving around each other. Sometimes it could even be pleasant; she had always known that, of course, though it was Remin who had shown her just how true it was. What else would her wife teach her? Only time could tell. As with many things lately, Cyreia was looking forward to it.

"All in all, it was a pretty unconvincing speech. Just so you know how terrible it was; remember what I told you when I tried to avoid sleeping in the same bed with you? Remember the ridiculousness? Well, it was similar, but somehow even worse. I tried to make it make sense instead of shutting up and that proved to be a really bad idea." Cyreia smiled and caressed Remin's face; there was no motivation behind it beyond wanting to touch her, wanting to enjoy those moments of freedom to the fullest. They hadn't exactly been subtle in front of the guards, but they would have to be more careful here, especially with the treacherous advisor. Surely he had eyes and ears in the castle. These people always knew how to gather information; if not, they wouldn't have gotten so far in the game of politics. The bedroom, though? The bedroom was safe. "I don't know why I simply didn't tell him that I wasn't interested in men, but I was flustered. My head stopped working. I doubt that you can relate, though. You always seem so-- so unfazed. Or," Cyreia's eyes suddenly got more lively, "was there a situation where this wasn't true? Come on, Remin, you already know so many embarrassing things about me. Don't be mean, share something as well." Her wife's life was still a mystery to Cyreia to a large degree and learning more about it seemed appealing. Well, that, and this could also be genuinely fun.

 

[Conifer]

"Unfazed?" she asks with a soft laugh, settling back into Cyeria's arms and pulling their breakfast platter closer so she could pick at it - the cutlery lay forgotten; her fingers were already sticky and a little stained, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd be been so cavalier. She didn't stick to such strict manners when she was alone, but she couldn't remember the last time that she'd abandoned a knife and fork or spoon entirely. It was strange, and delightfully childish. Maybe she'd make a habit of it when she could, in these quiet tucked-away breakfasts. They'd have to do more of these, too. Even if they pulled at their self-control and threatened to snap it. Ah, well. They were newlyweds. No one could truly expect much else from them. "I've been fazed this entire trip." Remin protests, amused despite most of the events where she was fazed being...rather dramatic, and half of them ended up with her sobbing in Cyeria's arms. Well, maybe not half, but far more than she'd like. But she knew none of this was the sort of thing Cyeria was seeking.

"Alright," She shakes her head fondly, after a bite of sweetbread. "I was...sixteen, I think. Or seventeen. It was around my birthday, I remember that much. Do you remember how I told you of the secret passageways out? I used to sneak through them at night when I couldn't sleep, of if I was restless, or simply needed a break. There's a little lake off in the woods, with a waterfall and such - I'll have to show it to you sometime. It's beautiful." She rests her head against Cyeria's chest. "Anyways, I went out there, and ended up going for a swim. I stayed out for an hour or so, not paying much attention to the shore - there's no one who has access to those lands besides us, and no one who would be out there in the middle of the night besides me. But at some point, some sort of animal had wandered through, and had decided my nightgown was a fascinating toy. I couldn't hear them over the sound of the waterfall." She laughs a bit at the memory. "I pulled myself from the water to find it torn to shreds. Entirely unwearable. So I had to trek back to the castle, soaking wet, nearly naked. Thank the gods no one saw me, but I spent the entire time rehearsing different stories of what I'd say if someone did. I'd settled on that I - despite never having sleepwalked before - must have managed to get myself past guards, around the back of the castle, and into the woods, all in my sleep. And somewhere along the line gotten soaking wet and lost my clothes."

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia found herself laughing before Remin even finished her story. God, what a situation. It must have been nerve-wracking then, but age had turned it into an amusing anecdote. "So that's why you're so good at handling embarrassment. I can't imagine that many things could top this." What would have her parents said, had they caught their teenage daughter drenched and naked? Surely there would have been consequences. Perhaps not consequences as severe as if someone had seen her, especially since Remin had spoken so kindly about the late king and queen, but... well. Princesses were expected to guard their virtue, weren't they? Would they have believed her that it had been totally innocent? It didn't matter, Cyreia supposed. Not in the warm safety of their bedroom.

The rest of the breakfast passed in intimate, comfortable silence. The conversation that interrupted it from time to time was a lazy thing that led nowhere, really - words exchanged for the sake of talking - and yet, to her own surprise, Cyreia actually enjoyed it for that exact purpose. In the past, these interactions had bothered her to no end. Why talk when you had nothing to say? That was the thing, though. They may not have talked about anything hugely important, true, but that didn't mean that their words were empty. Quite the contrary. There was so much love underneath them that Cyreia could drown in it and-- well, that made them worth being spoken, at least in her eyes. Hopefully in Remin's, too. It would have been so nice to linger in this room for the rest of the day - perhaps even forever, just them existing in this idle harmony - but they couldn't afford to do this. Not when there was so much work to be done. Cyreia let Remin help her with dressing herself (a plain tunic and pants, loose enough for her to move comfortably in and yet presentable enough not to offend anyone) and with that, they lost all excuses to keep isolating themselves in the cozy room. Well, maybe aside from one. Cyreia wandered outside for a moment to ask some servant (her name was Elorei, as she learned) to notify the advisors that the king and queen would like to hold a meeting. After that, she returned back to the bedroom and shut the door tightly. A quick brainstorming session was in order.

"So, the treacherous advisor. Which one is it?" Cyreia had only met them once and their faces were one large blur to her, but names? Those she remembered; she always made a point of remembering names. "What is he like? Any personal quirks that can be used against him? Anything I should be especially wary of? Aside from the whole betrayal thing, I mean."

 

[Conifer]

The morning was more relaxing than their entire trip had managed to be; thankfully (or not, Remin honestly wasn't sure,) they didn't get too wrapped up in each other, the breakfast providing enough of a distraction to keep them on task. Later, they'd have time for all of that, if they wanted. This evening, they could indulge in more than just feeding each other bits of fruit from their fingertips. "Leo Farthing," Remin eventually replies, when they settle into business. "He's...honestly not much of a threat physically." The man was old - oldest of them, and she knew that he'd been facing some health problems lately. Really, this problem would eventually take care of itself. That wasn't a good enough reason to let it go unaddressed, but it was some small comfort. "I don't think it's a matter of betrayal. Gregor..." she sighs. "We spoke about the plot. He genuinely seemed to come from a place of wanting to protect me. I don't know how far we can trust that, given what he attempted with Maric, but I've never known Leo to be a bad man. Straightforward, yes, but not bad. I can't imagine that his reasons are much different than wanting to keep me safe."

This would all be easier if they could simply just be honest. Maybe they could - maybe that was the play. But that felt far too simple. Would he believe it? Would he trust her? Would he trust Cyeria? The man trusted very few - she doubted that among that list would be the Eupriunian soldier thrust upon her, even if he'd had a hand in the thrusting. "I suppose I'd really need more information about his involvement in all of it to tell you if there's other things to be wary of. He's been a loyal adviser, and a friend to my parents, since they brought him on. That was...I don't know. Thirty years ago, or so. He's been here longer than I've been alive. He keeps to himself, mostly. He always has. Sometimes he'll have drinks down in the town, sometimes he'll visit his son to the east. Other than that, he's mostly here."

 

[Aerynth]

Despite the threat hanging over her head, Cyreia couldn't help but smile. "You're actually really lucky, Remin. I don't know anyone else who has so many people personally invested in their safety." It was clear that the people involved had gone above and beyond of what anyone could reasonably expect of them; Remin's parents must have been wonderful rulers to inspire that kind of loyalty. Too bad that now it worked against them. Well, more against her than Remin, but... that wasn't the worst possible outcome, was it? Cyreia could deal with the swords aimed at her neck, after all. The nature of the battlefield had changed (along with the weapons her opponents used), but the danger remained a constant in her life. It felt almost comforting in an odd way; like a connection to her old home. That decidedly would not have been true had her wife been threatened by their machinations as well. What would Cyreia have done then? Likely not discussed it in such a relaxed tone, that much was certain. "Alright. Let's give them the benefit of doubt," she said. "We'll talk to him - to all of them - and see how the situation develops. Maybe we will be able to forge some amount of mutual trust." How long would that take, though? Weeks? Years? Well, it didn't matter; Cyreia was nothing if not patient.

The advisers gathered surprisingly fast, though perhaps that wasn't surprising at all. Cyreia and Remin might have returned covertly, but then again, their arrival was no secret, either. The men had likely expected their rulers to want to meet them at some point and prepared for it accordingly. Soon, the servant knocked on their door and announced that everything was ready. "Time to work, I suppose," Cyreia smiled at Remin before heading to the office. She had been there just once, shortly before the trip, and not much of the room had stuck in her memory. The faces of the men who greeted them didn't strike her as familiar, either, though that was to be expected. They didn't know each other at this point, not really, and none of them looked too distinctive to her eyes.

"You're hurt, my king," one of them observed after they exchanged basic pleasantries. "Are you sure that you don't need to rest?"

"Quite sure," Cyreia smiled in response. Was that an attempt to get her out of the way and speak to Remin in private or genuine worry on his part? Her more cynical side guessed that the latter was more likely, though it didn't really change anything. Accusing him of that would have been... counterproductive. Stupid. "At this point, I've grown tired of wasting my time in bed. It's not like it will make my injuries heal faster. Thank you for your concern, though."

"Perhaps you should employ the services of our healers, then," another man said. "They have methods that can speed up your recovery significantly." Alright, maybe they hadn't prepared for this meeting as diligently as they should have because Cyreia had no idea what to say to that. Was admitting that healing magic apparently didn't work on her sensitive information? Very likely. It certainly wasn't normal and it sounded like the kind of thing that could be used against her easily. A distinct disadvantage. Cyreia supposed that she could cling to the Eupriunian ways, to pretend that magic still terrified her, but wasn't that even worse for her image? Quickly, she glanced at Remin; hopefully her wife did have a solution in mind.

 

[Conifer]

Remin slid in easily - she hadn't entirely expected this kind of questioning, but she had an answer for it anyways. "We're going to visit Oren after this meeting," She reassures the advisors. "But truly, his injuries aren't nearly as bad as they look, I promise. Avther is more than fit for discuss all that we have on the table for today." She'd speak with the healer about coming up with some clever lie about why Cyeria couldn't be magically healed, but Oren specifically tended to avoid the magical solutions - hence her want to take Cyeria to him. He was also some she knew they could trust - there were more than enough scraped knees that he'd bandaged away and hadn't questioned their origins, nor told anyone who would chide her for them. Maybe that wasn't the height of reasons to trust someone, but she did. She'd have to speak with Cyeria about being entirely honest with him - she wouldn't press it, but it might be nice to have a healer on their side and informed should anything happen.

"...Very well." He gives Cyeria a lingering look, before eventually turning his attention away. "Shall we start then, your highnesses? Where would you like to begin?"

"We had some ideas for who to elect to the city council." Remin offered; as much as it had truly been Cyeria's idea, it would sound stronger if presented as if she'd had some hand in it. They'd get them on the idea first, and then she would highlight Cyeria's involvement.

 

[Aerynth]

Thank god for Remin and her quick reactions. Perhaps Cyreia would have been able to come up with an excuse as well, but-- having the luxury of not being forced to do so? Having someone who watched her back? That put her at peace in a way that was difficult for her to describe, mainly because she hadn't really felt like this before. Not so profoundly at the very least. Cyreia had worked with people before, of course, and many of them had been nothing but reliable. There had been times when entrusting her very life into their hands had been the only option, so she had done just that. It had never failed to fill her with dread, though; the kind of dread one felt shortly after stumbling and shortly before the fall. Amazingly, the feeling just wasn't present here. Trusting the person in question with all her heart made all the difference, it seemed.

"Ah, yes, the council. That is quite a pressing issue," one man - Eyron, if she remembered correctly - stated. "We have actually taken the liberty of compiling a list of suitable candidates for you, your highnesses. To lighten your workload." He rummaged through the pile of documents sitting before him and pulled out one parchment for their viewing discretion. "Have a look. They're all highly qualified men and women with years of experience and, naturally, they're also faithful to the crown. Any of them would make a good choice." Cyreia leaned closer and skimmed through the list. Some of the names looked vaguely familiar, some of them did not, but one thing was clear; all of them were highborn. Old families with ties to the old monarchy. That wasn't the only issue with the list, though. As much as she wanted to believe her advisers, not knowing them at all made it rather difficult for her. Cyreia didn't doubt for a second that the candidates they had recommended were capable, but were they also the best options available? How many of the names had made it on the list due to personal sympathies? Conversely, how many people had been overlooked because they lacked connections?

"Thank you," Cyreia said, "I will... study the list extensively. Perhaps we will draw some inspiration from it." She didn't exactly have to be a skillful diplomat to recognize that discarding their suggestions immediately would have been less than strategic. Nobody liked to hear that their effort was meaningless. No, she would throw them a bone here. "We have been considering some alternative approaches as well, though. I believe that there is untapped potential among ordinary citizens. Merchants, clerks and such. People with the kinds of experiences the former councilors just did not have. Allowing them to have a say in the administration of the capital might be beneficial."

For a while, there was a shocked silence. Perhaps surprisingly, the one to break it was Leo. "That may be true, your highness, but such course of action would be inadvisable. You're bound to alienate many allies with this decision."