Fantasy All's Fair

[Conifer]

Remin...really, really doesn't like that she sent Cyeria away. She'd done nothing to harm them yet, but she could, and if she did then Remin would be entirely alone to face it. Or maybe this was a trap for Cyeria. She'd walk back into the castle and she'd be accosted immediately. Or maybe it was a trap for the both of them; separate the two of them and then attack them when they were alone. Gods, was there any warrant to this or was her mind just wandering to terrible places to torment her? Remin had no doubt that Isobel was capable of more powerful things than lighting a fire or burning some blood, but she'd done nothing to show that she'd use it against them. Yes, it was hard to tell how honest she might be being at any given time, but she didn't seem to be outright deceptive or malicious. This was...nothing. It was likely nothing. She did seem out of it, and Remin could only imagine how much strain a ritual like this might put on a person. Perhaps it was just honesty that lay in the space between them all, and not threats disguised as gentle requests.

She regretted coming to that conclusion nearly immediately. She'd backed away a step when Isobel had approached, but with her words, she felt suddenly glued in place. Cyeria? No. Whatever she'd seen...she'd misunderstood it. She must have misunderstood it. "My good lady," She says carefully, quietly. "I appreciate the warning, but-- I don't imagine that can be true at all." Or perhaps it was just an overreaction? Loyalties becoming a problem didn't mean that she couldn't trust Cyeria. It barely meant anything. And her loyalties to what? Eupriunia? Something else? What problems would arise that would mean distrust instead of them simply...discussing. Working it out, each sympathetic to the other's worries? "People have divided loyalties consistantly. You, I'm sure, and I as well. That doesn't mean that I cannot trust my husband."

 

[Aerynth]

The urgency in Isobel's eyes changed into something else; into something more guarded, and yet also something softer. What was she thinking of Remin? Did she consider her to be a fool blinded by love or did she suspect her as well now? That was hard to tell; the exhaustion oh so apparent in her features couldn't strip away the veil of secrecy she wore so well. "That is true, my queen," she began. "We all have various causes we're loyal to. Various people, too. I won't pretend that I am not affected by this. It is only human, after all." Every word Isobel said sounded labored, as if it cost her immense energy just to get them out. Still, apparently she thought her message important enough to soldier on.

"It is... mistaken, however, to pretend that all of us are influenced by this issue equally. I, for example, am Weroughian first and foremost, and thus I wish the best for my people. Atheans come second." What a staggering honesty. Despite the controversy of the statement, though, it likely wasn't anything surprising; lords and ladies tended to prefer the regions they ruled over, and so it made sense that lady Beleret wouldn't be different in this regard, either. "Still," she continued, "those two loyalties aren't really in conflict, are they? I'm sure I don't have to remind you who your husband is; where he is from and how he came to power."

Isobel sighed softly and sat down on the chair; standing alone was apparently too exhausting for her right now. Unless she was a spectacularly good actress, it didn't seem that Remin had to worry about being hexed. In that respect, at least, nothing would hurt her here. "I... understand that these things can be difficult to accept, especially when feelings are involved." Ah, so she did know about the two of them. Not that they had been especially subtle about... anything involving their relationship, really, so that probably wasn't surprising. "I saw what I saw, though. Some aspects of the vision are difficult to interpret, yes, but it was clear as a day that the enemy wore Eupriunian colors this time. Your husband was also branded as a traitor. You may ignore my warning if that is what you wish," Isobel shrugged, "but I believe that you'll do right thing in the end, as you always have. As you should."

 

[Conifer]

It was so impossible to tell anything to be true...but how much of that was simply not her wanting to believe it? Remin sighed as Isobel sat, sitting as well, her back against the wall that held the door and the rest of her on the chilled stone floor. What was taking Cyeria so long? She'd barely been gone seconds, though. Hardly a minute. She was safe, even with this projected fate. Perhaps she would be branded a traitor for things Remin already knew? Or would know? Would she be a traitor to her, or simply to their people? Honestly, Remin...wasn't really sure which one was better. They blurred at the edges in places until they were one in the same. She was her people, and her people were her.

Maybe Cyeria would betray her, as she'd worried about so much in their early days. Maybe this was truly all some terrible farce - but some of it had to be in earnest, did it? Some of their quiet breakfast conversations, their closeted kisses, their touches cloaked in darkness. Some of them were not some mean trick to make Remin trust her, surely. Surely? Maybe she had been foolish this whole time. No, Remin decided. That wasn't true. Cyeria could have what she wanted regardless of the feelings between them given her position alone, and she'd trusted with Remin with too much about herself to be planning to betray her this entire time. Remin could destroy her nearly with a handful of words and an audience with loose enough lips. She could speak to Lady Everbright alone and the whole nation would know by the end of a week. No, this wasn't a planned treason at least. That brought some comfort with it.

"It will not go ignored. I appreciate the warning, Lady Beleret." She says gently, honest but still unsure about all of this. Still, Isobel looked like she'd gone through a good deal of a lot to tell her this, and she wouldn't allow that effort to go unappreciated. "I will keep my eyes open and keep myself cautious." That was always true, anyways, or as close to always as she could manage it to be. Would she direct it specifically at Cyeria? No, but she wouldn't avoid acknowledging warning signs if they came about. Eupriunian colors, though? That was...something that Remin wasn't sure how to understand. They had a peace with them. She'd done all this to have a peace with them. Surely there wouldn't be another war there? They had control of Athea already. Gods, that was a terrifying thought, that what they'd given might not be enough and that they'd have little to stop them from taking more with. "...was there anything more that you saw? About- the war, or anything?" Any scrap of good amidst this mess? She didn't dare voice that desire aloud lest she be given an answer she didn't want, but she thought it, at least.

 

[Aerynth]

"That is all I ask of you," Isobel nodded. "Be cautious, my queen, and do not trust easily. I cannot tell when he will betray us, or what exactly will cause it, so you will just have to remain on guard. I am sure, though, that they trained you well in that regard." Was that pity that rang in her voice? Probably. Pity and compassion. Isobel herself, after all, knew what it was like to be betrayed by someone close to her, even if the relations between her and Wellan had apparently never been that warm. In a way, fates of those who had been born to wield power were the same; no matter their specific circumstances, they all had to spent their lives looking for knives hidden in the shadows. Those who didn't do so? They didn't tend to live for long.

"And yes," she sighed and put a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I also saw other things. Some of them I still have to ponder over, but I can tell you this: the moon will change three times before the seeds of conflict sprout. That is all the time you'll get to prepare everything that needs to be prepared, so use it wisely. I do not see far enough to tell you how all of this will end, and I don't think anyone can. There are too many variables. The gods have shown me, however, that this war will be nothing like the one you had just won. That was just-- my brother foolishly trying to claim what wasn't his, and getting involved with powers beyond his understanding in the process. A bump in the road, all things considered. The war looming on the horizon will be a transformative one," Isobel said, strange fire in her eyes. "Either death or rebirth, and nothing in between."

It seemed she wanted to continue, to tell Remin something else, but then the door opened once again, and Isobel closed her mouth. Whatever she wanted to say wasn't meant for anyone else's ears, least of all Cyreia's. Cyreia wasn't the one who entered first, though; two maids did that instead, and they rushed quickly to their lady. One of them touched Isobel's forehead, likely checking whether she had fever, while the other pulled out a flask from her basket and made her drink it. Everything about their behavior - the swiftness and yet the lack of any real panic - suggested that this was a regular, or at least a semi-regular occurrence; divination apparently took its toll on the body, just like all the other branches of magic did. Once Isobel swallowed the liquid, the rest of her strength left her body and she all but collapsed against her servants. Cyreia returned shortly after that, and the sight obviously alarmed her.

"What the-- will the lady be alright?" she asked.

"Yes. Do not worry, my king; we just gave her something to induce pleasant dreams. It is necessary for her to rest now," one of the maids assured her. "Once she sleeps it off, I'm sure our lady will be able to answer any questions you might have."

Ah, well. That probably wasn't too strange, either; Cyreia still remembered vividly what magic strain could do to a person, and it wasn't something she wished on her worst enemy. No, letting her rest for now only made sense. "I suppose we should return to our room, then?" she turned to Remin. Remin who seemed... somewhat disturbed? The confusion in her eyes quickly changed into concern. "Are you alright? Does your arm hurt?"

 

[Conifer]

The moon will change three times. A handful of months to prepare. Well, that was...better than nothing, she supposed. Not time enough to give them a chance, but enough time to...give them some scrap of hope. Enough that they'd at least have men to fight. Wasn't that cruel, though? To lead someone into a fight they weren't going to win? There was the pride of trying, of fighting for themselves, of trying to protect their country...but at some point, it was just foolish. That was a worry for later, though, when they had the time to talk strategy. If it was a matter of death or rebirth...they had to at least try. They'd figure out the rest of it later. With Cyeria, whether Remin could trust her or not, because there was no way that Remin could do all of this without her support. Traitor or not.

There was never enough information, though, especially when whatever else she was going to be told was cut off by the blessed arrival of Cyeria. Safe Cyeria. Not a trap afterall, then. Gods, was she truly so paranoid now that Cyeria leaving her sight leaves her worried? She hoped that whatever Isobel had left to say, they could talk about later. For now...Cyeria was right. They should make a retreat to the safety of their room, and let Isobel recover in peace. It isn't until Cyeria points out the pain in her arm again that she really notices it; there was too much else going on that it had faded into the background, but now it stings where it pulls against the bandages. Still, she won't complain. She has nothing to complain about. There were others who were in greater pain even now than her clean and bandaged, very intentional cut. "I'm alright." She assures Cyeria as they retreat from the shed, heading back into the castle and their room.

She sits at the edge of the bed when they arrive, likely more obviously worried than she'd like to be. Should she mention the lady's worries to Cyeria? It was either a terrible idea or a good one. Perhaps it was even dangerous? No, Cyeria was dangerous, but not a danger to her. And-- communicating was the way to avoid issues, wasn't it? If everything was laid plain, then nothing was a "...Cyeria," She says softly, hands twisted together in her lap. "The lady had-- some concerning things that she saw, war aside. She saw you branded as a traitor. Which isn't surprising, honestly - I think if we aren'tboth branded as traitors by the end of the year, it will be a miracle. But she saw you, specifically."

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia frowned slightly. It was good that the arm didn't hurt terribly, of course, though if that was the case, what did? Because something felt very off here. Once, Remin might have been able to fool her into thinking nothing bothered her, but now? Her wife's face was like an open book to her, and she didn't like what she could read there. Not one bit. Maybe I'm just overthinking this. That was the easiest explanation, wasn't it? It had been a very long day, and they had just witnessed a very suspicious-looking ritual that had ended in Isobel's collapse. Who wouldn't be a bit shaken after that? Very few people, Cyreia wagered. They'd retreated back to their room, fall asleep in each other's embrace and everything would be fine, or at least as close to fine as this could possibly get. Existing in this strange limbo of knowing about a threat yet not knowing from which direction it would strike would never feel entirely comfortable, but being with Remin? That almost, almost helped her achieve some semblance of inner peace.

It seemed that the peace wouldn't come so soon this time, though. Cyreia hadn't expected good news when Remin called for her attention - she seemed too serious, too crestfallen for that - but she also hadn't expected... well, this. Her being accused of being a traitor. "What?" she asked, her voice full of disbelief. Was that why Isobel had sent her away? God, it had to have been that, right? Of course she would want to talk to Remin in private if-- if she had seen her betraying their cause. Betraying Athea, Remin and everything they stood for. What a load of nonsense! Cyreia may have been many things, but she wasn't a turncloak. Not even her enemies would call her that! They'd likely accuse her of having no manners, or they would condemn some of her less than honorable practices, and she could see where they would be coming from. Privately, she would even admit to being a liar and a fraud. Breaking her vows, though? Never. Not as long as she breathed. The thing was, the prophecies that she had received so far had been more or less accurate. What if lady Beleret was right? What if something-- something terrible pushed towards such a vile act? Cyreia was, after all, no stranger to making terrible decisions under dire circumstances; most of them had haunted her dreams for years, yes, but that didn't change the fact she had made them. God. God, her head was spinning, and continuing to stand suddenly felt downright impossible.

Cyreia sat down next to her wife and turned around so that she ended up facing her. "I assume that you don't believe that?" she asked, obviously desperate for the confirmation. Her eyes were wide with shock. "Otherwise-- otherwise you wouldn't be telling me this." Unless Remin hoped that she'd break under the pressure and reveal some nefarious plan of hers? No. No, surely her wife didn't think so little of her. "Because I wouldn't betray you or our people. This is the only home I have, I wouldn't... wouldn't throw it away. Hell, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. You know too much about me." Which was partially the reason she had told her in the first place; to even out the power imbalance between them. Love had played a major role in that, though it had also been a political move. An olive branch. Surely Cyreia wasn't stupid enough to throw it away?

 

[Conifer]

Did she believe it? Did she not? Was the answer to those not the same? A simple no, or a simple yes, tacked onto both options, a cop-out entirely and yet everything but a denial of the possibility. No, she didn't believe it, but no, again, she didn't not. Isobel had been demonstrably honest thus far, and if that was all to prove this to them....this, that she had no real control over once they left her home, then that would be a ridiculous story to tell. "I know." Remin says, reaching out to take both of Cyeria's hands in both of her own. Where Remin felt confused, her wife looked downright near-panicked, and that hadn't been her intentions. She squeezes lightly, and then brings one to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Cyeria's hand. "I think whatever happens will be more complicated than we can anticipate now. If you do betray me, us, then -- then it will be for a worthwhile reason. Or perhaps not even truly betrayal on anything besides the surface. I don't know. Gods, I don't. But I trust you. If that's a foolish act, so be it. because I'd rather be tricked than doubt you." What words those would be if Cyeria was really planning on betraying Athea from the beginning. Even the gods might find that humorous.

It's simple to fill Cyeria in on the rest of the sparse details that Isobel had gleaned from her work - there weren't many of them. So Remin did that. Again, how ridiculous that might be to do if Cyeria was the awful things Isobel had accused, but then again they stood the a negative possibility of a chance in any of this if Cyeria couldn't properly prepare for this war. Remin needed her informed, even if it was to be their downfall. If she wasn't informed, then it would surely be their downfall. And, anyways, not telling her had never been an option; she'd been willing to spill her blood for this just as much as Remin was. She deserved whatever profits came.

 

[Aerynth]

"A worthwhile reason," Cyreia repeated, her words slow and measured. "There is no worthwhile reason for betrayal, Remin. Well, alright, I can think of some, but I don't believe those would apply to you. I mean, I don't suppose you're planning to start murdering our subjects." Saying it aloud, even as a hypothetical, felt profoundly absurd; as if Remin, her sweet Remin was capable of such atrocities. She had struggled with sentencing Wellan to death, and the bastard had deserved it. How could she possibly turn into such a monster? She just couldn't, that was the simple reality of it all. Nothing Remin would ever do could justify Cyreia turning against her; not after everything she had done for her. Not after she had accepted her so readily despite-- despite all the lies and secrets. Still, she couldn't help but smile as Remin professed her faith in her. "I'll do everything in my power not to disappoint you," Cyreia whispered softly and kissed her on her forehead. Did Remin trust in her completely? Probably not, but-- well, she tried, and that was even more valuable.

As Remin continued to talk, though, Cyreia only became more and more confused. Eupriunian colors? What? That made no sense! They were... allies now, she supposed. Reluctant ones, yes, but allies nonetheless. Athea was bound to pay tributes to Eupriunia, while Eupriunia was bound by the oath to protect them. Why would they attack them now? Both parties would stand to lose too much from the conflict! "Remin," Cyreia began carefully, "are you sure that we can trust the lady? She's been nothing but polite so far, yes, but-- this sounds like a bunch of nonsense. Unless it's some... weirdly symbolic thing, I can't imagine that being true. Eupriunians would gain nothing by attacking us now. Hell, they'd be losing future profits and trust me, wars are expensive even for them. They do need money to fund all of their expenditures." Eupriunia liked to portray themselves as this untouchable, almost god-like superpower, but that simply wasn't true, and Cyreia had gotten to know their shortcomings intimately. It had been insanely difficult to get better armor for her men because the budget had been so strained! Surely they wouldn't shoot a goose that laid golden eggs? Athea had potential to become very rich, after all.

"Look at this logically. Isobel is still Weroughian and Weroughians don't tend to like me or Eupriunia. Wouldn't it make sense that she'd try to... turn us against each other?" It was, at the very least, a more comfortable alternative than her being genuine.

 

[Conifer]

"You will not disappoint me." Remin promises with more surety than she feels she has any right to, but the exact amount of surety that Cyeria deserves. If she's betrayed...there will be a reason. There will be one, and Remin will understand it. Cyeria wouldn't act against her willingly. She trusted that. She trusted her. More than anyone or anything, she trusted her. She'd run halfway across a country because Remin was in danger; if she'd wanted her gone, she'd have had a dozen chances by now. If she wanted her gone but wanted her to trust - that figure wasn't much different. No, this wouldn't be a simple betrayal. Remin hoped that whatever it was would at least be somewhat interesting. If she was going to be betrayed, then...it might as well be a story worth telling. Something ballad-worthy.

"I don't know." Remin admits, an exhale consuming the sharp edges of her words and leaving them all soft and tired where they fell beyond her teeth. "It's a possibility, surely. Everything is. That's partially why...why I'm making you aware of everything she said. Perhaps she wants us to hide things from each other. Me expecting betrayal would be wedge enough, she might hope. And, gods, I trust you, but there's merit to it." Any small thing - the exclusion from a conversation, a plan hidden for 'what if's sake...an avalanche can start with a tumbling pebble, after all. Perhaps she hoped that. Perhaps she had planned on it. "But if we're open with each other, then there's no power she has." Will she try to talk to Cyeria alone, too, Remin wonders? Part of her hopes she might - it would imply some form of guiltiness - but so much of her doesn't want that to be true. If Isobel is an ally, she's a powerful one. She has her abilities, and favor with her people, and likely more to offer than Remin and Cyeria even know yet. "So we'll just have to...continue as we have been," she laughs a bit, grateful and lightly stunned at how this had never really been an issue. There were secrets yet to be revealed once or twice, but they'd been laid in the open when the time had come to lay them, or when they were relevant. They were not intentionally kept. "I think we can manage it."

 

[Aerynth]

"There is," Cyreia agreed readily. As absurd as the notion of betraying Remin felt to her, even she could admit that it probably wouldn't be an unexpected development from an outsider's point of view. She was Eupriunian, after all, and thus still loyal to king Loran... at least officially. How far did that loyalty go, though? God, Cyreia didn't know. He had put her on the throne, yes, and she would hate to be ungrateful, but-- well, her new people needed her. They certainly needed her more than him, too. King Loran couldn't reasonably expect her to behave like a faithful commander once he had put the crown on her head, right? He had told her to rule as best as she could, and that included acting like a king. The relationship between them had irrevocably changed; surely he had understood this would happen? There was no way he hadn't. King Loran may have been many things, but he had never been foolish.

"And that is a wise approach. We'll just... have to share everything so that we can keep track of all the individual pieces," she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Isobel wouldn't drive wedge between them, intentionally or not; they have withstood greater tests. Hell, their entire relationship had been nothing but a series of tests! Complicated games of trust weren't anything new, really. What was new, however, was this new threat of a supposedly cataclysmic war. Cyreia would have loved to believe that Isobel had invented everything from scratch - that she had had no vision at all and merely fed them convenient lies - but... no. That was way too dangerous. What if her words had been true? What if she had just interpreted some parts of it wrongly, but the general gist of it was indeed reflective of reality? Ignoring it outright would be wildly, wildly irresponsible. No, they had to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. How to prepare for a possible conflict with Eupriunia, though? Or with any large and powerful country, for that matter? They were still recovering from the war that had almost torn the country apart!

"If there's any truth to what lady Beleret said, though," Cyreia began, oh so serious, "we'll need to gather allies outside of Athea. We can't handle this alone. A tiny rebellion is one thing, but a full-fledged war..." She left the sentence unfinished; it was obvious what she meant to say, but actually voicing it? That was too depressing. "Are there any... pre-existing treaties we could take advantage of? Old diplomatic relations?" If there were any, they certainly hadn't helped them against Eupriunia in the past, but maybe it would be different this time. No, not maybe; it simply would be different. Cyreia did know how to be persuasive when she wanted something, after all, and she also knew how to handle such negotiations. She just needed a starting point.

 

[Conifer]

"Any that exist...I doubt they'll eagerly lend us aid after the war with Eupriunia." Remin sighs. It feels like they never have just a moment to themselves. Yes, they'd had a few hours before the ritual, but that was fraught with the knowledge that soon enough, one of them was going to shed blood. There was peace there, but also awful resignation. It was more breathing room than anything properly restful. And now that was all they were going to have for months, or years, or at this rate of everything going poorly, decades. "There were some allyships we called upon, but...Cyeria, it wouldn't be Athea asking anymore." She points out. "While Athea is still Athea, it's also a country that's barely its own anymore. I'm grateful to have my place still, but we both - we all - know that it's a merciful facade. If King Loran snaps his fingers, we're only an extension of Eupriunia, and there's very little we can do short of a suicidal civil war to stop it. You and I could be nothing in a moment." And that would be the real mercy, however unbearably terrible. "People put forth what they were willing to the first time around. Yes, some might be sympathetic and lend us a handful of soldiers, but we won't win with a handful of soldiers. We won't win regardless of what we do. I think-- I think our focus has to be on minimizing our losses at this point, or finding some way to avoid this war altogether." She was willing to fight, yes - there was no way she wouldn't if it came to that - but...barely half a year between wars was cruel to everyone involved, and they were already weak and wounded and patching themselves up. "Even if we're lucky." She says softly. "Even if-- even if this is against Eupriunia, which really, I'm not...entirely convinced about, the way she said it came from outside. Even if people answer our need for supplies, for money, for people, for support...Eupriunia could have fought for years still. We had months. It won't take long for us to reach the need to surrender again, and unfortunately, I've already wed you. There's no bargaining chip in that anymore."

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia furrowed her brow. It wasn't that she didn't understand Remin's point because she very much did, but the defeatism didn't sit well with her. Was it defeatism, though, or merely realism? Saying that Athea stood no chance against Eupriunia wasn't a controversial statement, after all; she would have offered the same opinion had someone asked her just a few months ago about it, and the war between Athea and Eupriunia would have proved her right. Still, Cyreia couldn't just retreat with her tail tucked between her legs. Not when not being able to protect your people properly had such dire consequences. There had to be something they could do! Hopeless situations didn't exist; what people saw as impossible was usually just a lack of a good plan.

"Do you think I'm not aware of the risks, Remin?" she asked softly. "I know the state of Athea's armed forces. Hell, I fought against them. Trust me, I'm not eager to pick a fight with anyone, much less Eupriunia, but-- we have to prepare for the worst. That's the only way to minimize losses. We can - and should - strive to preserve peace, but prepare for a war at the same time." Besides, if Isobel's prophecy was accurate, this didn't seem like the kind of war they could prevent with some pretty words and promises. No, the coming storm looked too intense for that. Hoping that they could just-- dodge it somehow would be akin to sticking their thumbs in their ears, closing their eyes and pretending that reality didn't exist. Sadly, reality had ways of showing you that you were sorely mistaken about that, and they tended to be more painful than simply facing it head on.

"Moreover," she said and squeezed Remin's hand tightly, almost as if trying to ground her, "I... don't think this is a lost cause. Eupriunia isn't invincible, either, and I can't imagine that other rulers wouldn't jump at the chance to knock them down a peg or two. I mean-- realistically, Eupriunia is a threat to all of its neighbors. We wouldn't need to beg for anyone's help. No, we'd just have to point out that they aren't as safe as they probably think they are and convince them that a pre-emptive strike would be in their best interest. And honestly? This is one of the few times my name can help us. I am rather famous among those who understand warfare, after all. It is my belief that if I backed this plan, we'd have all the credibility we need." Were her words overly daring? Perhaps, but Cyreia really saw no other way out of this mess.

 

[Conifer]

Remin hated to admit how utterly charming she found Cyeria's Avther-based ego, but she had to admit it all the same. She wasn't wrong, anyways. Avther's name carried weight, for better or worse. There would be those that would help out of fear of the man who had at least half a dozen ballads written about his might, his will, his skill with a sword, and there would be those that helped through wanting to be in those ballads themselves. (The first time Remin had heard one after she had learned that she and Avther were to be married, it had all felt like some sort of cruel joke; her fate following her and worming its way into her ears with some catchy dirge. She wonders now if instead of mocking, fate had meant for it to be some sort of reassurance; it had been one of the better songs, anyways.) (The second time she heard one, she asked it stopped. The third, she just left.)

"Credibility, yes," She agrees; Cyeria, again, wasn't wrong. That hadn't changed in the past few scraps of seconds. "But them finding us credible and them willing to risk their own countries that are likely not really in danger yet..." She sighs. It feels like they're each making circular arguments, both saying the same thing but neither of their words quite matching up where they should. She loosely squeezes back, before curling against Cyeria, resting her head on her shoulder. The room and the stone is chill around them, and her wife's warmth is a comfort in it. "I suppose it doesn't matter." Remin relents - or agrees, it's so hard to tell. "Why, though? Eupriunia already has access to whatever it wants from us. We're nearly entirely powerless to stop them from doing whatever they wish with our supplies, any money outside of what's necessary to keep the country running...it was all in the terms of surrender. I'd marry you, you'd take the place of King to act as a liaison when need be, and they had access to our benefits. I can show you the papers. There's nothing more that they can take. They've taken it all, even if they haven't acted on it yet." Yes, some money was going towards them, yes, they'd gone through quickly with their betrothal, but the backlash hadn't hit yet. She'd assumed it was because they, too, were recovering from the fighting and that it would come when they were secured again, but now it felt like a storm might be brewing on the horizon instead; thick, heavy clouds fat with consequence. "And why will they be willing to re-ignite the war over it?"

 

[Aerynth]

"You are right," Cyreia smiled softly and pulled her closer to herself; she was basically cradling her now. "And yet you're wrong at the same time. You see, countries don't exist in a vacuum. Every action you take - especially an action as significant as winning or losing a war - triggers a chain reaction. Can you imagine how the political landscape would change if a major player such as Eupriunia were to lose?" Cyreia paused for a few seconds to give Remin an opportunity to truly consider that.

"I certainly can't," she admitted with a chuckle, "because the scope is too large. I am confident in saying, though, that there are people who would be willing to risk the fate of their own countries for this. It wouldn't be just for safety, either; as you can probably imagine, Eupriunia... isn't exactly beloved among those who aren't Eupriunians." All the wars they had waged? They had left them with few friends. Numerous sycophants, yes, and also opportunists, but no real allies. Their enemies, on the other hand, were very real; the fact that they hid and waited for the chance to strike didn't mean that they didn't exist. If they truly had to go to war with Eupriunia, they would just... have to take advantage of those old, old power dynamics. Was it strange that she saw it with such clarity? That the idea didn't really bother her on any meaningful level? No, probably not. Eupriunia had given her few reasons to love the country; she hadn't seen that in the past because... well, because it was everything she had ever known, but now that she had something to compare it with? It was so easy to see how they had used her on every turn. Used her and discarded her. Not just that; they had had the gall to make her thank them for it, to bow and mutter something about how honored she was. In the end, Cyreia was glad that she had ended up here, that she had met Remin, but that changed nothing about the dubiousness of their actions. What they had been thinking, turning a soldier into a king? Surely they had been aware of the impossible position they had put her in? The more she thought about it, the more her resentment grew.

"And I have no idea about that," Cyreia sighed. "It's what makes me think that Isobel is mistaken. Well, either mistaken or outright lying. I can't see why they'd do that, and trust me, Eupriunians are nothing if not rational in their pursuits. They wouldn't attack us just out of malice." Some stories did portray them like that, but that was just propaganda, most likely spread by Eupriunians themselves. It made them seem scarier. "The only thing I can think of-- well, they could declare war on us if we refused to do something they wanted. I don't know why we'd ever act like that, though, because that would be just stupid."

 

[Conifer]

"So it matters little if Athea has allies," She says softly. "As long as Eupriunia has enemies. Athea-- doesn't matter in all of this, really." Despite the fact that war was going to be waged on them, but-- well. However related that was, it was separate enough for now. "We just need people to want to act out against Eupriunia, even if it's not in Athea's defense." That seemed an easier task, and that made a sharp, short laugh lined with thin hysteria jump from Remin. A unified front, easier than countries coming to aid; unified anything was never easier. And yet, here it likely was. Gods, what mess were they getting themselves into? What would be worth this? She dreaded learning the answer to that particular riddle, but hoped that they might learn it sooner than later regardless.

"And we're both demonstratively not stupid." Remin teases, laughing lightly. Perhaps she's going mad, to be able to find any terrible amount of humor in any of this. What else was she to do, though? If they didn't find amusement in the tiny places, just as if they didn't find time to be themselves, to be together, then...What was the point? Her amusement at the thought of them steadfastly squabbling with Eupriunia over something, knowing it wouldn't work out in their favor...it wasn't making light of it. And there was nothing to make light of, really. Likely enough Eupriunia didn't even know this war was on the horizon yet, if it was months away and they hadn't made whatever request or demand they might make yet. There was an idea, or-- a rumor at best, given by someone they weren't sure that they could trust, or even spoke the truth. "Perhaps they've decided we get on too well, and want us to separate so they might marry me off to some one much more terrible." And, gods, it's alarming that she would truly consider going to war over that. She'd always thought dramatic stories of love were foolish, but here she is, the fool.

 

[Aerynth]

"Well, it wouldn't hurt if Athea had allies, but... no, it isn't necessary," Cyreia agreed with a smile. Remin may not have been exactly familiar with this type of thinking - with thinking above the level of one country - but she learned fast. How could she not? They had raised her to rule, after all, and all rulers had to adapt to new situations fast. Still, Cyreia couldn't help but admire the way Remin managed to keep the pace with her so easily. Oh, if only she could get used to her new role as easily! "I mean, it would be nice if we had genuine allies since they would go to greater legnths for us, but-- hatred for Eupriunia would be a great motivation as well." God, she really did sound like a traitor. Was that what Isobel had meant? That would actually... make a lot of sense, especially considering how quickly Cyreia abandoned her homeland in her thoughts. Quickly and without a hint of remorse. It wasn't that the idea didn't bother her at all, but if she had to choose between Eupriunia and Athea - Eupriunia and Remin, really - then the choice was obvious. It wasn't even a choice; as silly as it sounded, a world without her just wasn't worth living in. She had done it for years, and what had it felt like? Like vast, overarching emptiness; like watching everything through a layer of dull, depressing grey.

As Remin laughed, Cyreia did, too, thankful for the brief moment of release. It was good that she could find some humor in the situation; often, that was the only thing that had kept her alive in the past. Well, that and also her sword skills, but that wasn't really applicable in Remin's case. (Thankfully. God, if she also had to worry about her being hurt in battle, well, Cyreia wouldn't know how to cope with it.) "They can forget about that," she chuckled. "Marriage isn't like-- like buying shoes that you can return when you find out they don't fit. You can't cancel it just like that! You're mine and I won't give you to anyone." The law might not agree with that because Cyreia wasn't entirely sure whether their marriage was even valid considering the mess surrounding her identity, but who cared about the law? Certainly not her.

"Or maybe," she bared her teeth in a smile, "king Loran will be overcome with jealousy once he finds out that you're much prettier than him. That would be a good reason to declare war on us as well. Just between you and me? The man can be terribly vain."

 

[Conifer]

Remin makes a quiet promise to herself that someday, they'd be wed again. Properly. She and Cyeria, not she and Avther. There would likely be no giant party, and honestly, perhaps only as many witnesses as they needed. She was willing and eager too call Cyeria her wife, of course, but it would be nice for that to be properly, legally true and for it not to be something that could be torn from them as soon as someone proper realized the deception that they'd been fed. When Cyeria felt safe - when it was safe - to share her truths with someone who could marry them, and whatever witnesses they might want or need, then they would. Maybe that would be years from now, or decades, or perhaps even never, but the promise of it felt almost as good as the act. Not quite, but...really not far.

"My parents brought me along to a talk with him, once." She settles against Cyeria, wrapping her arm around the woman. "I was- I don't know. Not even ten. It was a long time ago. We were trying to send artifacts to researchers in Tara and needed to assure that they would get safe passage through Eupriunia. Usually they'd just write, or send someone else, but...the world was boring then, I guess. No constant threat of war. Or my parents just wanted a vacation, which at this point, I can't blame them for it. So we met him in some boarder city and they talked logistics, and, gods, the entire time," She smiles, soft laughter interrupting her words. "He had a piece of something stuck to one of his teeth. People kept trying to tell him, but it was all too subtle in order not to draw my parent's attention to it anyways, and he never understood. I think we laughed about it for an entire hour once we'd left. We'd calm down and then one of us would just start all over again." It wasn't really all that funny, out of context. It wasn't really all that funny in context, admittedly. There'd be nothing to laugh at if he'd simply had a bit of spinach in his teeth. His steadfast unability to understand the increasingly more complicated and yet restrained charades, though... "Perhaps he's going to find out about that and call war because we laughed at him fifteen years ago."

 

[Aerynth]

Oh. So Remin had met the man? For some reason, that notion felt a bit surreal; almost like two worlds colliding. Or, more accurately, her past and her future. Was that encounter meaningful as well? Something to be interpreted through the lens of all the prophecies that surrounded them? Probably not. Gods may have existed, but coincidences did, too, and looking for some deep meaning in everyday occurrences was a sign of foolishness. Rulers did meet each other often, after all. Diplomats existed, yes, but many of them liked to tend to such matters personally, at least with important political figures, and king Loran was nothing if not important.

Still, the mental picture Remin's story painted? Cyreia threw her head back and laughed until she couldn't breathe. When her breath finally returned to her, she leaned closer to Remin and started to fiddle with her hair absent-mindedly. Should she braid it? Perhaps; that sounded like a nice thought. Remin had such beautiful hair, after all, and Cyreia rarely got to play with it extensively. "You know what? That's entirely plausible. He once executed a man for composing a funny song about him. Apparently the bard went too far when he compared his stride to that of a duck." Cyreia had always found that act more than unnecessary, but... well, king Loran hadn't been exactly interested in knowing her opinion on that matter. Very few of her opinions had interested him, at least when it came to things not related to warfare. And why should it have been otherwise? Avther had been a soldier, not a politician. "That poet must have had a death wish," Cyreia continued. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but things are a bit different in Eupriunia. Well, more than a bit different. Rulers are not to be humanized; they're seen as... living extensions of the divine power, basically. So if we meet him during the celebration we're planning - and that is likely - I don't recommend making fun of him, even in a friendly manner. That actually could start a war. I wouldn't talk about religion in front of him, either, because not all Eupriunians are as... lukewarm about it as I am." What did Remin think of her homeland when she described it like that? Nothing nice, Cyreia wagered. And the saddest thing about it? She was entirely justified in that mindset. "I wish I had more pleasant things to share," she sighed, "but Eupriunia is what it is. I liked some aspects of it as well, though those were mostly connected to the people and the land itself. The system leaves a lot to be desired."

 

[Conifer]

Remin watched with fondness as Cyeria laughed, unwilling and unable to move her eyes from her. When was the last time she'd looked so carefree? It was easy to focus on the fact that this was all difficult for herself, but that made it remarkably easy to forget that she couldn't remember the last time that she'd seen Cyeria had laugh like that, if she ever even had. It was lovely. She sounded lovely. She couldn't help but laugh along, the sound infectious, and equally couldn't help but to press a kiss to Cyeria's cheek as she caught her breath.

It became much less funny as Cyeria continues speaking, though; the mood turned back to seriousness with the talk of execution. Of course Remin had known that Loran was anything but an empathetic man; just as there were stories and songs about Avther's skill on the battlefield, there were tales of Loran's harshness that always veered just too close to cruelty in Remin's Athea-jaded opinion. She knew those ones well enough, and she had no desire to be written into one. "No," she agrees. "I wouldn't dare. We'll work to make the festival as religion-neutral as we can, to keep on the safe side, and we'll be careful with whatever interactions we may have with him. Gods know that this could be the thing that starts this war, and we don't want that. It'd defeat the purpose entirely." Maybe it was foolish to continue with the idea of the festival, all considered. If Eupriunia declared war on them, this attempt at an olive branch would only make the Athean people turn against...whoever, likely. Both countries, instead of just the one. But then again, Athea needs it, if they're to fight. The festival only exists in the early stages for now, but the estimations, the facts and figures- it's going to bring in money Athea will rely on. No, they'd go as planned. It would be nice anyways to offer up some sort of moral boost before Remin commands her people to be tossed back to the wolves for lack of other options. "...I'm glad you were able to find the shining parts," She admits, offering Cyeria a small smile. "I'm sorry there aren't more, but honestly- the fact that you came from it makes me not think as little about Eupriunia as I likely should. You could tell me whatever terrible things, and I'd still hold some fondness for it because it brought me you."

 

[Aerynth]

How did Remin always manage to reduce her to near tears with a few words? It was almost embarrassing, really. Before her life in Athea, Cyreia could count the amount of times she had cried on her fingers; not even the prospect of death had made her weep. Now, though? It seemed that tears threatened to spill from her eyes practically every week for one reason or another. It sort of made sense, she supposed. Danger was a constant presence in her world, and so her reaction to it, too, was subdued. Someone caring for her in the way Remin did, however, was still new; new and entirely overwhelming. (Would she ever get desentisized to it, too? God, Cyreia hoped not. The feeling was too wonderful, too precious to lose, and she wanted to bask in its warmth for the rest of her life.)

"I found the shiniest part here," she whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "By your side. But yes, it wasn't all terrible. Some of it was even fantastic." If it wasn't for the bad blood between the countries, for the potential war, Cyreia would have suggested for them to go to Eupriunia for a vacation. Oh, how lovely it would be to show Remin some of her favorite places! They could go for long walks, and she would tell her of the things she had experienced there while younger, and they'd eat local food and joke around and-- well. They would do none of that because there was no way Eupriunia wouldn't remind Remin of the crimes committed against Athea, but it was a nice thought. Perhaps one day, when the wounds weren't as fresh, they would be able to do something like that. If king Loran truly declared war on them, though? Those wounds would remain open for a very, very long time.

"The festival might be a chance for us to try and prevent that war from happening," Cyreia said in a sudden fit of optimism. "Or, if nothing else, a chance for us to find out just how bad the situation is." Alright, so that optimism may have been short-lived, but at least it had existed at one point. That meant something, right? "I just hope I'll learn to hide my feelings for you in front of king Loran. I mean, it's fine if Atheans think that you're manipulating me, but-- oh god," Cyreia's eyes widened in horror. "What if that causes the war? Me being a terrible actor and king Loran coming to the conclusion that you have me wrapped around your finger?" Isobel had spoken of 'divided loyalties'. What if she had meant a scenario similar to the one Cyreia had just outlined rather than a straightforward betrayal? Something like that would still be enough for her to be branded as a traitor, after all.

 

[Conifer]

"Hey, hey," Remin says gently, taking Cyeria's hands in each of her own and squeezing them so gently, hoping in a way that might be comforting. "You were an excellent actor in front of him for years. This will be no different. We'll be incredibly careful to not show that we like each other very much at all. I don't think we should pretend to despise each other," She teases gently, "Because any story that reaches him from anyone who's seen us together here might reveal that to be the utter lie it is, even if it might be fun." Fun to pretend to hate Cyeria? Maybe not the right word. An entertainment, then. Amusing, if only because they'd both be in on it. "We just have to be...acquaintances. Co-workers. We can manage that. The only reason we haven't thus far is because I don't think either of us have been trying very hard." She certainly hasn't. Not the same way she'd try in the face of Loran, at the very least. "I sorely doubt that my lies of manipulating you will reach him, and we won't do anything to play them up while we're there. We'll be alright. It'll be torturous to not be able to spend much time at all with you, but we'll make up for it when he's gone, I promise." Maybe they'd finally make good on that dream of heading out into the woods and just existing there for a night or two. After that, they'll certainly need it.

 

[Aerynth]

"I wasn't an actor in front of him, Remin," Cyreia protested gently. "Or-- well, maybe I was, but only to the degree I deceived everyone else." Which honestly hadn't been that difficult; by the time she had met king Loran, Avther had become her second skin. It was... just a different name, really. Her personality, opinions and practically everything else? In those regards, Avther had always been synonymous with Cyreia. "I never had to be that guarded with him, mostly because he only asked me about things related to wars. There was no need to hide things from him." Remin was right, though, that they hadn't really tried to conceal their love before, and this would give them some fine motivation. Besides, the fact that king Loran didn't know her on any meaningful level could only help here; it would make it more difficult for him to decipher her mannerisms. The way her former subordinates had immediately understood what she felt for Remin? He wouldn't be able to do that. In his eyes, her warmth towards her wife could very well be just... friendship. Surely he wouldn't mind that? It was her job to rule Athea by her side, after all, and she very well couldn't do that without cooperating with Remin. That was the reason he had pushed her to marry her, for god's sake!

"But you're right," she conceded. "If we have to, I'm sure we'll find a way to be... less obvious about what we feel of each other." Their past experiences didn't exactly support that statement, but surely they weren't as foolish as to be unable to stop touching one another when the fate of their country depended on it? As Remin had said before, they weren't stupid. And the festival would last, what, a week at most? It wasn't like they would be separated for years. They wouldn't even be truly separated, just... more distant than usual, and they'd still have nights for themselves.

"Have you thought about the Athean elements you'd like to incorporate into the celebrations?" Cyreia asked. "It should be something fun; something everyone can enjoy. You see, if Eupriunians get to know Athean culture a bit, waging war against us would suddenly turn into a much, much more unpopular decision. Eupriunians in general have... a wildly inaccurate idea of what Athea truly looks like. They most imagine something like Werough, but even worse," she chuckled. Not so far ago, Cyreia had thought along similar lines; god, how bizarre it felt now! "Food, music and such is a given, but are there any customs that could fit the spirit of that particular holiday?"

 

[Conifer]

"You might not have been an actor, but you acted." She protests, but really, what right does she have to say what is and isn't true for someone else's life? Very little. But she cares so deeply for Cyeria, and not argue what she saw was...well, perhaps better, but she would do it anyways. "Lies of omission are as much acting as anything. I don't disbelieve that you're a hard-hearted soldier when you must be - I've seen it first hand, now - but I also don't believe that there wasn't times when you said what he wanted to hear and not what you wanted to say. This will be...more difficult acting, I'm sure, but...there was still a lot of you that you had to hide. For a lifetime. Perhaps it wasn't a difficult role, but it was still a role." She says gently, pressing a kiss to Cyeria's forehead.

"There's a handful of common games that we might set up areas to play," She suggests. "There'll be the kites, of course, but I can't imagine it's a consistently social activity. Something that would require people to interact with those unfamiliar and work together couldn't hurt." Or it absolutely could, but she was going to hope for the best. There'd be guards enough, likely both Eupriunian and Athean, each paid enough to hopefully care less about country ties and more about safety, to keep the peace. Hopefully they wouldn't be needed, but they would be there. "We could set up an area with smaller, quieter games - card games and the like, maybe? - and somewhere for active games." Gods, she hoped that this plan was worth anything. If it turned out how they hoped, it would do so much for the relations between the two countries, nevermind bring in funds for Athea. Likely, they should offer some cut of it to King Loran if he did make an appearance, as a gesture of (unfortunate) fealty and goodwill, but what was left would still be a good amount back into the country.

 

[Aerynth]

"That's... likely true," she admitted reluctantly. It was strange to consider it to be acting per se, though that was exactly what it had been, hadn't it? Cyreia had usually preferred to dodge dangerous topics when king Loran had been present; it hadn't been lying, but it hadn't been entirely honest, either. She had shown him what she had wanted him to see; just one aspect of her personality, the hardened soldier. And wasn't that playing a role? Because Cyreia was so, so much more than that. Sometimes she had doubted it, thought that every part of her not related to warfare and death had burned away - that she was an empty shell - but Remin had shown her otherwise. With her, it was easy to be... well, someone other than Avther. To be truly herself, or some approximation of what she may have been had fate not torn it away from her. Now that was an interesting thought. What if she was playing another role, this time for Remin's sake? Playing it with such passion that not even Cyreia knew about it? All those years of pretending made it difficult to see. Perhaps it didn't matter, though. She might not ever know who she truly was, or who she would have been had it not been for the events that had shaped her, but being Remin's love? That idea sat well with her. It was who she wanted to be. Wasn't there worth in that as well?

"Games could be good," Cyreia agreed softly and kissed her on the lips. "Perhaps something cooperative rather than competitive, though? Or we could... divide people into teams and see to it that they're mixed. Atheans and Eupriunians against other Atheans and Eupriunians, not just Atheans versus Eupriunians." Giving them a shared goal, no matter how petty, could promote relationship growth. It would, at the very least, give them something to talk about, and then they'd realize that their hated enemies were just... people. People not so different from them. "Eupriunians also love stories," Cyreia said as she started braiding Remin's hair. "Mostly stories of valor. I assume there are Athean heroes worth singing about? We could hire actors to perform some plays." That would be a good, non-threatening way fot them to get familiar with the Athean culture. "Do you have a favorite story from your folklore, Remin?" Cyreia asked, genuinely curious. There were so, so many things she didn't know about her wife yet, and revealing new pieces of the puzzle that made Remin Remin felt like unearthing treasure.

 

[Conifer]

"Most of our stories are about the gods," She admits. "Or related to them, at least. The gods or the fae, or some tragic person trying to escape some fate that they were fortold and managing to get themselves caught in it all the same. Which Eupriunians might...admittedly appreciate based on what you've told me, if it had less to do with magic and fortune-telling. My favorite among them would be..." She trails off, humming softly; at one point in time she could have answered this quickly. Chosen some god and rattled off their tale with rehearsed dramatics. At one point in time, that's all she did. How better to practice delivering rousing speeches than to fine-tune how one might tell a story filled with victory and loss and other properly dramatic things? Over the years her knowledge of anything but the broadest strokes of those stories had mostly faded into unimportance, though, even if the knowledge they'd passed onto her hadn't. "It's not...properly a story. It's a poem, I guess, though often set to music, but it's not a song. Or it's all of those things; it really depends on who's telling it, and what version they might have heard or feel like preforming. It's about Vene, who was the daughter of a goddess and a mortal man, who she was raised by, and it's....terribly long, and half of the stanzas usually end up being cut out because simply no one wants to listen to one story for half an hour however good the storyteller might be. The first quarter of it's mundane. Some say boring," She laughs softly, "And they're not wrong, but it sets up what she knows of her life. Simple things. Warm food, shelter, her loving father. They live on the edge of a forest - he's a woodsman - peacefully and happily, until her mother reaches out to her and explains that she must travel. Not why, or to where, just that she must travel. And so she does. She leaves her home and she starts to walk. The rest of it's just...what she finds. Friends, lovers, enemies, rebellions. There's a beautiful part where she finds a market full of foods she's never had opportunity to try, and it's...in hindsight the reason why this story, however long and generally not loved, stood out to me when I was young. Because at that point it turns from this story of adventure to a story of questioning; what else is there that she has never seen? Has never even heard about? If she goes on from here, if she tries a strange fruit, she can't be the person who mended clothing by a fire and knew little of the world anymore. And she wants to be. It's a simpler person to be. But she also wants to be the person that her mother set her out on this quest to be. She can go home after witnessing fighting and never want to see it again, but she can't go home after this fruit and never want it again."