Fantasy All's Fair

[Aerynth]

Oh, Cyreia could think of a thing or two Remin could do to her. None of them was appropriate to mention aloud, though. "The fact that you're happy with it is its own reward, you know. I didn't really have an ulterior motive. If you insist, though, I'm sure we can come up with something. Something you'd find enjoyable as well." Remin was right, though. They couldn't really linger in the safety of their room much longer, as much as she would have liked it. How did that proverb go? Duties first, pleasure later? Yes, that was the right sequence. Saving the good things for later would only make them taste all the sweeter. As Remin fixed her hair, Cyreia checked her own reflection in the mirror. Everything seemed to be in order. Nobody could guess what they had been doing, at least not from her appearance.

"Time to go, I suppose. We'll meet the older Everbright, talk to her, spend some more time with the birthday girl so that she feels special and then we can excuse ourselves. I mean, it's been a long day. I doubt they'll resent us for wanting to go to sleep relatively soon." They had been traveling, after all, and forcing them to party with the rest of the guests till the morning would have been utterly inconsiderate. Even lady Everbright had to understand that. Cyreia may have been a king and spending time with these people was her duty, but she wasn't about to let them push her around as they pleased.

They returned to the main hall just in time for the results of the competition to be announced. With the one egg Remin had found, the two of them were dead last. Not exactly a surprise since they had been doing everything but searching for those silly eggs, really. Some teenage lady from the south won and she squealed with joy when lady Everbright presented her with an ornate music box. ("This is a real treasure, my dear lady, from the distant land of Eydden. Three of our men lost their lives during their journey there!" she said to her excitably. If that was indeed true, Cyreia considered it to be a shockingly bad trade off.)

As they sat down next to lady Everbright, she shot them a cheeky smile. "Just one egg, huh? It seems like you had better things to do, your highnesses. Would you let us in on the fun?"

 

[Conifer]

Remin watches the announcement of the winner idly, though when the box is presented, she leans over to Avther, hoping he’ll be just as amused as she finds herself. “I assure you that box is a clever copy. Probably from half a mile from here. Expensive, don’t get me wrong, but there’s a large market for copies. She probably sent people to Eydden to get it, and they took her money and a week’s vacation only to return with this.” It, honestly, was still an impressive prize. But not one anyone died over, she’d be willing to wager.

They /really/ should have come up with a convincing lie before they’d re-joined the party. Gods, there was too much to think about, and the quiet moment they’d shared in their room did little to sort out any of those thoughts. It had been nice, genuinely, but had only filled her head up more with things to think about. On top of that, the strain the magic had put on her hadn’t truly hit until she was up and moving again. “No, unfortunately.” She smiles politely. “I spilled wine on my dress and I had to attend to cleaning it before even magic couldn’t pull it from the fabric.” An easy enough lie. There was wine around, and she’d been drinking some. “Thoroughly unexciting, and now there’s the pesky magic strain to deal with.” It was, however, a good opportunity to set up their easy escape when she couldn’t keep Avther or herself present at the party. “And on top of travelling...I must admit that I simply rested for a while, while Avther went searching after aiding me with my skirt. Everyone looks like they had a good deal of fun though - was that box truly from Eydden? I can’t imagine what it took to bring it here. An impressive prize.” Remin tries to distract her, gently leading the conversation onto things that she hopes that the lady will be much more eager to discuss than their love life.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia sat back and let Remin work her magic. Interfering would have only resulted in greater trouble; coming up with a convincing lie in tandem would have been way more complicated than her just doing it on her own. No, it was safer to remain quiet. Remain quiet and admire her ingenuity. "Oh, what a stroke of bad luck," lady Everbright chirped. "You could have let a servant handle the matter, my queen. I'm sure that anyone at the castle would have been happy to help you." Did she doubt Remin? Was that meant to be a subtle jab? The equivalent of saying 'your lie is so laughable that you shouldn't have even bothered'? It didn't look like that; lady Everbright seemed to exist in a world where people had no reason to lie to her. Privately, Cyreia had to admit that there was something almost charming about her naivety. How could anyone maintain such innocence while living in a lion's den? Was she not afraid that they would tear her apart? Apparently not. Well, not everyone is as disliked as me, I suppose. Perhaps it is safe for her, especially if her big sister protects her.

"And of course it's from Eydden. I may have invented the part about our men dying to obtain it, though," she chuckled. "I merely wished to make it a little more exciting for our dear winner. Just between you and me, my queen, it belonged to my father. That item was in our family for generations. I wanted my birthday party to be memorable, so I decided to give it away as a prize. A wonderful idea, don't you think?" she winked at Remin playfully. Oh god, the lady was beginning to launch into a monologue again. Cyreia didn't know whether she could take it at this point. The little pause they had enjoyed should have made it a little more bearable, but it didn't; the moments of silence only served to highlight how tiring this felt in comparison. No, she had to say something to stop it.

"I've been wondering about one thing, my lady," Cyreia began. "Is your sister not participating in the festivities? I've heard so much about her and yet I haven't caught a sight of her so far." The older Everbright may have been dangerous, but Cyreia didn't actually dread meeting her. Not after finding out where her loyalties lay. Uncertainty bothered her significantly more than knowing that someone planned to get rid of her. Now that Cyreia knew what to expect and what to do (more or less, at the very least), it didn't seem as daunting.

 

[Conifer]

That distracts Everbright easily enough - she seems much like a fish in the way her attention flits from topic to topic without much attention to any of them unless it’s sparkling and shining and looking like a hook for her to catch herself on. “No,” she rolls her eyes, a bit of a huff accompanying her words. “She’s being an awful bore as usual. She says she doesn’t like parties, and usually spends the entire event tucked away in her office. Don’t be too insulted, your highnesses, it isn’t a personal thing. She’s just as ridiculous with everyone.”

“We were hoping to perhaps speak with her this evening,” Remin says, finding both opportunity to escape and opportunity to actually keep their plan rolling.

“And ruin my wonderful party with serious talk?” Everbright laughs, but it’s bright and cheerful and amused. “I’ll have to work harder to keep your attentions next time - will you be around for Vellian’s? My Vellian parties are always the /best/, ask anyone. You should come. I’ll send formal invitations, of course, but you really should come.”

“That sounds lovely,” Remin smiles politely. They were absolutely not going to visit for that holiday (one of fasting and modesty, a strange one to throw a party for. Small get togethers were common, but parties were nearly entirely against the point of the day,) whether they were in the area or not. “But- yes,” She says, dragging this train back onto its tracks. “Unfortunately, with the amount of time we’re able to stay in town, business and pleasure have to mix.”

“And not even the fun sort of pleasure, apparently.” Everbright sighs, but thankfully doesn’t pause for long enough that Remin’s forced to say anything to that. What would one even begin to say to that, especially after she wasn’t entirely sure her lie had gone as far as she’d hoped it would? “Yes, yes, alright. Fine. She’s likely still in her office this time of night. It’s on the second floor in the east wing - follow the hallway towards the front of the house, and it’s the first door on the right once you make it to the corner.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Remin smiles, standing before they can be dragged too quickly back into idle chatter. “We may head to bed not too long after we finish speaking with her, but we’ll be sure to say goodnight before we do so.”

“Oh, you’d better!” She agrees. “I’ll have them prepare the cake in your absence, and we’ll have it when you return. You really can’t miss it. We brought in bakers from Synt, and the kitchens have been smelling divine from it for days.”

 

[Aerynth]

Practically against her will, Cyreia was beginning to sympathize with the older Everbright. So what if she was involved in a conspiracy that aimed to kill her? Living with her younger sister must have been... taxing, to say the least. Cyreia couldn't imagine what it was like. One, one evening in her company almost sapped her strength away. Facing her enthusiasm every single day? That seemed distinctly impossible. "I assure you that I am not offended in the slightest, my lady," she offered her a bright smile. "Your sister is probably the hardworking type and that is a good thing for someone in her position. It's not very exciting, granted, but someone has to deal with all that boring paperwork. You should be happy it's not you," she pointed out gently. Lady Everbright - a woman who apparently gave away precious family possessions just because she felt like it - likely couldn't appreciate that now, but maybe she would in time. Responsibilities always caught up to everyone sooner or later. Once she got her first real taste of it, surely her sister's habits would seem less ridiculous to her then. Or perhaps not. Some people never grew up, after all.

Remin wasted no time in creating an opportunity for them to get away. Well, more like an opportunity to speak with the older Everbright, though the two were one and the same in her mind. "No need to fear, my lady. We wouldn't leave without at least tasting the cake. It must be delicious."

"Do you think our lady ever gets tired of talking?" Cyreia asked Remin when they were far enough from the table. "I mean, I don't dislike her, but damn. One would have thought that there are limits to how far a conversation can be stretched." Were many noblewomen like her? Little birds chirping of inconsequential things? If so, Cyreia felt even more thankful for Remin's level-headedness now. She had promised to herself to respect her wife even before meeting her for the first time, but... that would have been significantly more difficult if she acted like lady Everbright. Like the stereotypical aristocrat smallfolk made fun of when nobody of importance was present.

Following her instructions, they located the office fairly quickly. "Here goes nothing, I suppose. Let's see if I manage to Cyreia took a deep breath before knocking on the door and entering. She was greeted by a sight of a woman, clearly older than her sister but not by much, buried under a pile of documents. The shortness of the candles and the stains of wax on the table suggested that she had been sitting here for a long, long time. Lady Everbright certainly hadn't been kidding about her sister's dedication.

"I apologize for the intrusion, my lady," she bowed. "Hopefully you have some time to spare? I'm Avther and, well, you probably know my queen." Cyreia should really work on more regal ways of introducing herself than just stating her name unceremoniously, but there was little to be done about it now. "I was thinking that we should use this opportunity to talk. To become familiar with one another."

 

[Conifer]

“I wonder how long she would simply talk if someone didn’t interrupt her?” She laughs softly. “We’d be stuck at that table for years, I think. It’s honestly nearly impressive how she manages it.” Remin’s sure that someday, it would be a skill Everbright would learn to utilize more effectively than talking everyone’s ear off at her parties. (She hoped so, at least, because the alternative was that she just stayed chattering away about nothing for no reason for the rest of her life.)

Thankfully, her sister seemed entirely her opposite. The look she gives them both as they enter (tired, a little annoyed to be bothered,) isn’t reassuring, but it’s a nice break from endless cheerfulness. The woman stands, giving them both a soft bow. “I’m Ossia. Welcome to our home, your highnesses. Congratulations on the wedding. Come in, if you’d like.” She moves to clear two chairs from some papers and books she has stacked on them before returning to sit behind her desk. “I apologize for the mess, I don’t tend to take guests in here.”

“It’s more than alright,” Remin assures her as she moves into the room, sitting in one of the cleared chairs. “We’re interrupting, I wouldn’t expect you to have expected us.”

That earns her a brief, tight smile, though it’s entirely impossible to tell how genuine that smile might be. “At any rate, it’s wonderful to finally meet you, my king.” She says, looking to Avther. “And even more wonderful to see that Melody hasn’t talked you both to death. What a tragedy that would be, so near to your wedding.”

“She’s been a wonderful host,” Remin laughs softly, which isn’t untrue. She’s done whatever she could to make everyone feel welcomed, even if her idea of welcomed is ‘involved with every conversation with her she could possibly manage to rope them into’. Everbright seems skeptic of this, but doesn’t comment further on her sister’s abilities.

 

[Aerynth]

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well," Cyreia defaulted to pleasantries. As much as she found them to be entirely empty, they did serve one purpose; the conventions provided her with safe things to say. Not having to think too hard about her words, in turn, gave her a chance to size Ossia up. She... didn't look like someone who wanted her dead, though that was the entire point. It wasn't like she could afford to advertise her intentions, now could she? One did not defy kings openly. Not without an army behind their back at the very least.

"My queen is right," Cyreia smiled softly. "Your sister is like a breath of fresh air. I haven't met a lot of people like her." She was actually thankful for that, but Ossia didn't need to hear that. Insulting her closest relative roughly five seconds after meeting her wouldn't have been strategic at all. Siblings often tended to speak badly about each other, but that didn't mean that anyone else could do the same without facing the consequences. Blood was thicker than water and all that.

"I've heard that you're a busy woman, my lady, so let us skip the formalities and talk to the point." If Cyreia gauged her right, Ossia was the type to prefer that approach, similarly to her. If not, well, then she had just made a small misstep, but probably nothing irreparable. She liked her chances. Besides, reducing the duration of this meeting to a minimum also meant there would be a smaller window of opportunity for blunders. It all seemed sensible to her.

"Your family is an important force in the region, that much I know. I also know that the war couldn't have been good for your businesses, so I - we - wanted to inquire about the extent of damage you've suffered. We'd also like to know whether there's something we can do to help." We, not just her. Cyreia hoped that, by emphasizing the joint nature of their rule, Ossia would be more likely to accept the offer. They didn't need another Hadsberry; another situation where people refused aid because of it being connected to her name.

 

[Conifer]

She examines Avther openly; if her sister is a fish, then she’s the eagle that hunts it, focused and attentive. Whether pleased or not with what she sees, she seems content enough to do away with pleasantries and simply answer their questions. There’s little emotion to her voice; it’s simply fact. “The damages we suffered were fewer than some, but on the scale of what we deal in, caused a good amount of complication. Fields were trampled, used for skirmishes, ransacked - all in all, many of the harvests for the farms I oversee were ruined. Those harvests were vital for keeping the rest of my properties stocked with food, which were thus impacted - I had to source food elsewhere, cutting into the profits for those locations, and even then, the standard of food dropped across the board. And people rarely tourist around in a war.” She leafs through some papers. “I estimate we’ll recover fully with time, but I’ve had to close some of the businesses with all the fighting. I hope to re-open them when I’m not running on so tight a profit margin as I am, but any assistance that could be provided concerning that would be appreciated.”

There’s something about simply telling them what she wants that Remin appreciates. Hadsberry had been the same way though they may have meant it jokingly, a request they’d not expected to be taken up. It was nice to simply fix things and not have to estimate the proper way to do it and hope for the best. “I’m sure that we could arrange something, provided that you focus on areas where people are out of work.” Remin agrees.

“Naturally,” She agrees, jotting something down on a scrap of paper with a quick flourish.

“How are the farms recovering? Is there any help we can provide there?”

 

[Aerynth]

So far, most of the problems Ossia had outlined seemed to be solvable by throwing money at the Everbrights. Promising her the funds was easy enough, of course. Would fulfilling the promise be just as simple, though? Cyreia didn't actually know what kind of budget they were operating on - whether the royal treasury could handle the additional burden - but Remin looked to be entirely unbothered by the request. That must have meant that it was doable, right? It simply had to. "Yes," she nodded, feeling slightly unnerved by her gaze, "we will be happy to help in this regard. Send us a detailed account of the expenses you need covered and we'll look at it once we get home." Once they had access to the treasury and the assistance of the advisors. Cyreia wanted to help, she really did, but that didn't mean that she'd just agree to everything mindlessly. That would have been stupid, especially since they probably couldn't meet all of her demands. Ossia had to know that, too, though it was in her best interest to try and secure as much support as possible.

"Above all else, the farms need time to recover," she stated plainly. "I don't think that you can help with that, your highnesses. However, there's a shortage of workers and materials. There are so many structures that need to be rebuilt that the builders are both overworked and able to charge much more than usual for their services. This is a problem, since I cannot afford to hire as many of them as I would have liked. Not under these circumstances."

"I'm sure that we could find more workers for you," Cyreia offered. Probably men and women from regions that hadn't been as impacted by the war, which could also help them reduce unemployment in those parts of the country. They would see. "Their pay could be subsidized by the kingdom to a point, too. I won't give you the exact numbers right now, though."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Ossia said. It didn't sound like an insult; more like an impartial assessment of the situation. Cyreia decided to interpret it as such at the very least.

"Is there a way we could support tourism?" she asked. "I understand that people don't exactly have money to spare after everything that happened, but what about foreigners?" It didn't seem likely that many people considered visiting the war-torn Athea for holiday, though perhaps their attention could be attracted somehow. Or maybe there was a long term plan they could contribute to. Lady Ossia certainly seemed like the type to have a plan.

 

[Conifer]

"I'm doing what I can on my end." Ossis replies. "Bringing in performers, stageplays for the locations that can support it, the like. They're primarily bringing local crowds, but locations near borders draw some from our neighboring countries."

“Unfortnuately,” Remin speaks up, frowning softly, trying to sort what she can of this out. “”Our budget isn’t limitless, and there’s enough places that need more or less complete reconstruction. We may have to focus our efforts on repairing what we can before we’re able to support creating new attractions into the country.”

“As expected.” Ossia agrees.

“But we may be able to figure something out.” She hums softly, more lost in her thoughts than focused here for a moment. “Avther, my king,” She looks to him, snapping back to focus. “Are there many holidays celebrated in Eupriunia that you’re fond of? Bringing the celebrations of something here may serve beneficial.” It would at least perhaps show King Loran that Remin, and thus Athea as a whole, weren’t unwilling to work together. Gaining good favor before they needed it was always a smart idea - it may be a holiday as a show of solidarity with their country now, but it could be protection for their magic users later. And everyone loved a holiday, with their excuses to rest and hand fun.

Whatever Ossia thinks of this idea, she keeps quiet on it for the moment, but her expression of dubiousness isn’t entirely unreadable. It was a risk, certainly, bringing Eupriunia further into the conversation knowing what they did of her - but this whole conversation was going to be drenched in risk from the beginning.

 

[Aerynth]

Well, now that was a bold suggestion, wasn't it? Cyreia had hoped to downplay her connection to Eupriunia, not highlight it. Bringing a piece of it to Athea seemed like a distinctly bad idea. Is it, though? It's not like they wil ever forget my roots, so I may as well do this. Who knew? Perhaps it would even improve her reputation among the smallfolk somewhat. It would allow her to show them that Eupriunia wasn't just about invading, killing and destroying their homes. That, ultimately, they were just people. People divided by a different culture and the shedding of blood, but people nonetheless. It was worth a try, really.

"Not that many," Cyreia admitted openly, "but I'm sure that I can pick something appropriate." What, though? Certainly nothing religious. Perhaps the Athean people wouldn't even mind one more god to worship, but Cyreia wanted to be on the safe side here. Religious conflicts tended to be notoriously messy. Besides, the festivals associated with worship were generally dull affairs. The attendees had to wear their best attire and sit still for hours while listening to hymns. Subjecting her people to that would have been tantamount to betrayal. It would have also destroyed the entire purpose behind borrowing an Eupriunian holiday. Athea needed something cheerful and flashy; something that could attract the attention of those with a lot of money in their pockets. Also something that wouldn't be too expensive to hold. Was there even a holiday like that?

"Do you know what kites are?" Cyreia finally asked. "They're... toys made of paper, wood and thread, and they're designed to fly when the winds are good. We have this holiday where people make their own kites, decorate them and then compete with each other. The most beautiful kite is chosen, as well as the kite with the best flying properties, and their creators are rewarded." The sky filled with all the kites was a sight to behold, and Cyreia was sure that people would be willing to cross great distances to see it. With some proper advertisement at the very least. "It's mostly a holiday meant to celebrate the idea of flight, so there are also other things associated with it. Trained birds, sword dancers and the like. I know some people who organized such events in the past and I'm fairly sure they'd be willing to help if I asked them."

 

[Conifer]

Remin smiled softly (too fond, too delighted at Avther’s suggestion. They could manage that easily, and it sounded like just the sort of thing that would allow people to ignore the fact that they were celebrating something Epriunian. Further than that, even, it seemed the sort of thing that anyone could involve themselves with - anyone could gather some sticks and twine and scraps, in even the most war-torn of towns. “Would that be something you were interested in aiding us with, my lady?” Remin asks, looking towards Ossia, wondering if this Eupriunian holiday concept was going too far to keep her favor. It was risky - it would either show her that she could use all of this to her benefit without enacting the plan of replacing the king, or it would show her that the plot was necessary before he was too far involved. Remin could only hope that she wasn’t putting Avther into even more danger by doing this.

“The idea’s...intriguing.” She hums softly, writing something. It’s hard to tell, really, her opinion of the whole affair. “If you put me into contact with those who have organized events previously, I could sort out entertainers. I know most the ones people find worth seeing at any given time. I’d, naturally, book what I wish of those for myself, but after that’s complete I could reach out to others who may be interested in booking any of the rest of them and pass on names.”

That left Remin no more sure about how she was taking this, but it was...some form of a compromise, she supposed? A complicated, self-serving middle ground that Remin was going to take as a win. “Then we’ll begin the planning for it formally when we reach home,” Another item to add to the list. How long was it now? Gods. It felt like miles.

 

[Aerynth]

"That would be no problem at all," Cyreia agreed with a smile. "I'll send you all of the names later, after I've contacted them myself." Using her contacts in Eupriunia for the good of the Athean people, even in such a small and superficial way, actually felt nice. Perhaps that's what I should do in the future. Instead of shunning my heritage and experiences completely, I should... take advantage of them. Do things other people can't do. It would be a dangerous path for her to walk, but weren't they all like that? There was no safe place for her in this country. Not one, unless Remin's embrace counted.

"Alright. That is pretty much everything I wanted to talk about," she concluded. "As I've mentioned before, I do not wish to bore you with idle chatter. Maybe just one more thing: I'd like to stress that you're free to contact me at any time, with whatever concern you may see fit. I don't believe in punishing my subjects for criticism, so you don't have to walk on eggshells around me, either." Cyreia didn't know much about being a king, that was incredibly true, but she did know a thing or two about earning people's respect as a leader. Accepting feedback was one of the most important prerequisites for that. An elementary concept, really, yet so many failed to grasp it. "I won't promise you to always meet your demands because I hate giving promises that I cannot keep. What I can promise, however, is to listen to you. Listen to you, try to reach a compromise and explain the rationale behind my actions if compromising proves to be impossible." As much as she disliked it, the aristocrats shaped the country's politics as well and cooperating would be far easier than fighting for scraps of power. Cyreia at least wanted to give them the chance to cooperate; wanted to give them a voice. Letting them feel important should reduce the likelihood of them rebelling against her. If they refused the olive branch, well, she would have to act accordingly. For now, though, doing this seemed appropriate.

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss before we leave, my lady? Because, once we return home, we will be swamped with duties. We will still respond, but this is the fastest way for you to reach us."

 

[Conifer]

“There’s nothing I consider pressing at the moment.” Ossia says after a moment. It’s hard to tell if the deliberation in all of her replies are usual to her, or if speaking with Avther brings some amount of hesitation, but Remin’s willing to wager it’s some combination of both. She doesn’t like how she looks at him - even had they not known of her involvement in the whole mess, it would have been an easy tell that she wasn’t their biggest fan. But that was fine. Remin didn’t need her to like them - she just needed her to find them useful. To find Avther useful.

“Then we’ll keep from bothering you longer.” Remin smiles politely, rising to her feet. “Thank you for your hospitality, and for taking the time from your work to speak with us. I’m confident that something good for us both, as well as the country, will come from this.”

“We can only hope.” Ossia agrees.

They’re out of the room quickly after that, back out into the hallway and the door closed behind them. Remin doesn’t say anything until they’re a good enough distance from the room that Ossia likely can’t overhear them, and she takes advantage of the empty halls to take Avther’s hand. They start the walk back to the ballroom - there’s nothing Remin wants more than to slip back to their room again and collapse into bed, the day and magic wearing on her, but there was no point in insulting the woman they were trying to broker peace with’s sister by skipping cake. “I think that went well.” Remin says quietly. “I think, at least. She’s hard to read. Regardless of her opinion of the whole thing, though, you did wonderfully.”

 

[Aerynth]

Was she naive for expecting at least some sort of reaction to her little speech? Quite possibly, because it didn't come. Ossia's face remained as expressionless as ever; a closely guarded secret. Cyreia would never understand how this woman operated. Or how most of the nobles operated, if she were to be honest with herself. God, the prospect of spending the rest of her life trying to figure these people out decidedly did not sound appealing. That was exactly what awaited her, though.

"Goodbye then," Cyreia said despite her feelings surrounding the matter. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, my lady." She wasn't sure whether that was possible - likely not, considering the amount of documents on her table - but that didn't really matter. What mattered were her earlier words. Had they managed to shift Ossia's opinion of her into the right direction? Only time would tell. I just hope that she will take the hint and talk to me directly instead of letting me know of her dissatisfaction through a knife in my back. One would have thought that this wasn't an unreasonable wish, but apparently not. Nobody communicated honestly here. Not even her. Especially not her, actually.

Once they found themselves outside, Cyreia could feel herself relaxing a little bit. "It's mostly thank to you, I think," she smiled as she allowed herself the luxury of squeezing Remin's hand. "I... well. I'm very aware that this is childish, but having you there makes everything easier. It's probably the knowledge that even if I were to mess up, you'd fix the situation somehow. You're my safety net." She was much more than that, of course, but that didn't make her statement untrue. Remin's presence really did put her mind at peace in a way nothing else could. Oh, how she loved her. "Let us go enjoy the blasted cake. Come on, we've dealt with greater challenges today." The greatest challenge was yet to come, but they could have a nice meal before it all came crashing down. Perhaps Cyreia could use the time to actually think of what to say. It seemed doubtful, though. There was no good explanation for any of that.

When they returned to the table, they were greeted with a divine scent Cyreia couldn't exactly categorize. It smelled sweet and fruity, but beyond that? She had no idea.

"Ah, your highnesses! I was just about to send someone for you," lady Everbright beamed. "I hope that my sweetest sister didn't make you regret the decision to meet her. Actually, on second thought, I hope that she did! At least you'd learn to stop running away from me all the time when I'm clearly the best person to spend time with in this castle."

 

[Conifer]

“We’re hardly running from you, my lady.” Remin laughs softly, shaking her head. That wasn’t true, really, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell the woman that yes, they were trying to find nearly any reason to spend a few minutes away from her side. Everbright was a breath of fresh air on occasion, but too much of her was overwhelming. “But I do apologize. Though it had to be done, I don’t mean to shun your beautiful party in favor of work.

“Oh, it’s alright.” She laughs. “You’ve returned for cake, that’s all I requested. You’re not as terrible as she is. I swear, she’d pay for the most beautiful thing in the world and then blind herself before she could see it.”

“She’s a busy woman.”

“Or so she says.” She hums. “There’s half a dozen people who’d be happy to do the work she does, and she refuses to hire anyone. She’s brought it on herself!”

Remin frowns softly, unsure why she’s even bothering to attempt to defend someone who she had no real gain from defending, especially to someone who had already set her opinion - someone who was also her sister, and a terrible gossip who loved to have strong but fleeting opinions on anything and everything. “Well, that’s all aside for now. The cake smells wonderful.” At least she’s easy to distract.

“Oh, doesn’t it just?” She beams, looking towards the (rather huge) decorated cake on the far wall. “We waited for you to cut into it - come on, come on, everyone’s terribly impatient.” She grabs their hands, gently pulling them across the room.

 

[Aerynth]

"Perhaps she merely wants to make sure that everything is taken care of properly," Cyreia said in a conciliatory tone. "It can be... difficult to trust other people with your work." It certainly had been difficult for her, back when she had been a commander and insisted on overseeing practically everything to the point of not really... well, living. Ossia's behavior didn't seem that strange to her; at least not in this regard. "But let us move onto more pleasant topics. I think I will speak for both myself and my queen when I say that we've worked more than enough for today. We can focus on the cake now. If the smell is any indication, it's bound to be wonderful."

"Oh, I'm glad that you agree as well!" The lady immediately perked up. Cyreia hadn't thought that it was actually possible for her to look even more lively, but here she went. How can two sisters be so different? Like day and night, really. "I swear that the baker is worth his own weight in gold. That's roughly the amount we actually had to pay him for him to come in the first place, but that's beside the point. It's well-deserved, I believe!"

Cyreia and Remin joined the crowd of spectators as lady Everbright grabbed the knife. To the lady's credit, they did seem to be pretty impatient; most of them were eyeying the cake with unconcealed desire. Not that Cyreia could blame them. It really did smell wonderful and her mouth watered just from standing close to it.

"I would normally give a big speech about how I'm thankful for all of my friends coming to my humble party and such," lady Everbright said, "but I think that we're all too impatient for that at this point, so let's just eat!" The crowd answered with a loud cheer as she cut into the cake and began handing out the plates. Naturally, Remin and Cyreia received their slices first. The cake looked thoroughly tempting, but it would have been impolite to dig into it sooner than their host, so she waited for the lady to join them. It didn't take for her too long to do so. "Happy birthday, my lady," Cyreia uttered before finally tasting it and, god, the cake alone made attending the party worth it. "I don't think I've ever eaten anything better than this," she admitted, all of her worries momentarily forgotten.

 

[Conifer]

Everbright seems absolutely delighted with Avther’s approval of the dessert, beaming as she continues to dig into her own. “I travelled to Synt to visit a friend - Laurenne Castor? You know the name, surely, my queen,” She didn’t, not really, “but for your handsome king, she’s a /wonderful/ designer. She made this dress for me as a birthday gift! She’s booked for years, but still made time for me, because she’s entirely darling. Anyways, I visited her, and we had this cake, and I knew I simply had to have it for my birthday party. The gods themselves couldn’t bake something so wonderful.”
Remin wondered how long it would take her to finish her slice, between all her words - though, as long as she was still talking, Remin nor Avther had to say anything. It was a little bit of a benefit. She continues, rambling about where they’d sourced all of the ingredients from (far away, needlessly expensive,) and the baker (a household name, where he’s from,) and far too many things that Remin stops keeping track of - she just nods and makes small sounds of interest on occasion, making a rather convincing act of invested listening while she eats her cake.
It really is very good - soft and sweet without being cloying, decorated with delicate sugarpaste flowers and fruits - the same ones that seem to flavor it. For all her exuberance, the lady does seem to have good taste. Remin wonders if she did the planning, though, or if she simply told her sister what she wanted and left all the responsibility to her? If she had done the decoration herself, it might be worth it to reach out to her once they begin planning the kite event - the girl might benefit from a bit of responsibility, but Remin doesn't want to accidentally burden Ossia further with her sister pawning off her duties to her.

Eventually, though, their pieces are gone, and Remin takes advantage of one of the guests at the party pulling Everbright away to introduce her to someone to turn to Avther. “Shall we make our escape?” She asks softly, under the noise of the chatter and music filling the room. “It’s growing late.” As much as she'd somehow managed to enjoy the party, in between the stresses it brought along with it, she was ready for it to be over. She was ready to take her hair our of this updo, put on something more comfortable, and simply rest in Avther's arms until they've both fallen asleep.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia tried to listen, she really did, but at some point, her brain couldn't take it any longer. The words melted into incomprehensible sounds and she stopped trying to decipher them. Despite that, though, sitting at the table with Everbright and her friends wasn't actually horrible. Not having to be on guard felt nice and... well, some part of her relished the calm before the storm. God, she didn't even want to think about what would occur once the door of their room closed after them. Would Remin hate her? It wasn't impossible. Her wife had been nothing but understanding so far, but surely there had to be limits to her kindness. Was she about to cross them? Oh, how she wished to live like this forever, remaining in the safety of Avther's skin. That couldn't be done, though. Moreover, Cyreia knew that continuing to keep the secret for longer would only make everything even harder in the long run. What if she found out herself? That would be the worst case scenario, and they were close enough by now for it to plausibly happen. Telling her was the only sensible option here. Sensible and absolutely terrifying.

When Remin suggested for them to go to sleep, her first impulse was to say no. To beg her to stay a little longer. In the end, Cyreia did none of that. She merely nodded instead. "Yes, let's go. I think we can disappear now without it being too impolite." The journey to their room was a blur; she remembered saying goodnight to lady Everbright and her pouty reaction, but not the exact words they exchanged. It probably wasn't too important anyway. Few things seemed important in the context of the doom looming over her head.

"Remin," she said when they reached the privacy of their room, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "We need to talk. Come, sit down." Cyreia herself sat on the edge of the bed because, honestly, her legs probably couldn't support her weight any longer. God, why was her throat so tight? She had faced greater obstacles in the past than just... speaking the truth, but it didn't feel like that now. It also didn't help at all that she had no idea how to begin. How did one break such news? Hi, I'm actually a woman, hopefully you don't mind? Absolutely ridiculous, but then again, this whole situation was ridiculous, too. Perhaps bluntness would really be the best solution here. Cyreia didn't have the courage to pull it off, though.

She licked her lips even though her tongue felt painfully dry. "I... I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you. Don't take me wrong, everything I've told you is true," technically, more or less, "but there are things I haven't told you yet. Important things. I couldn't trust you at first and then, when I actually could, I didn't know how to breach the topic. I still don't." She watched Remin, studying her expression and seeking... something. Possibly encouragement? Or maybe condemnation? Either way, Cyreia seemed utterly lost in that moment.

 

[Conifer]

It was quick enough to say some goodnights to Everbright’s friends, and then Everbright herself - who made them promise that they’d join her for breakfast in the morning (a hopefully quieter affair,) before she let them leave to head towards their room. The walk itself was quiet. Had Remin herself not been tired, she might have noticed that there was something to Avther’s mood that had shifted since she’d suggested they head off to bed, but it was simple enough to blame his quietness on being simply overwhelmed with everything that had happened so today. It was a lot. Too much. It was all any easy thing to blame.

She began taking the pins from her dark hair as soon as they reached their room, but Avther’s words - finally clueing her in that something was strange, something was off, - made her pause in her work, her hair halfway undone. Where should she sit? On the bed beside him? She hesitates, for a moment, before pulling a nearby chair over to face him. It sounded important, and she wanted to see him properly. It also bought her a moment to process, to understand, or to try to. Had she done something tonight to upset him? Every interaction raced through her head, but she couldn’t pinpoint anything. Had she stepped too far with the Eupriunian holiday? Why had he said nothing in the hall? Was it something more than that?

His next words did little to calm her - if anything, it stretched the possibilities of what this conversation was going to end up resulting in. His reassurance that everything was true -- it did little to convince her that everything was true. Gods, was he going to turn on her? Admit that this had been an act, admit that he worked far more closely with Kind Loran at this moment than it had seemed, that he was simply gaining her trust and now had gained enough of a conscience to feel bad for it? How much of all of this had been a stretched truth? The flowers he’d given her? The night in the washroom? She felt sick at the thought of it. Those moments that felt like she was truly being seen...were they little more than him playing with her emotions? Remin faltered, trying to read him as he tried to read the nerves on her face - she looked on the edge of devastated, teetering on the edge of that cliff and held back only by her ability to hide herself and the tiny, tiny hope that maybe it could be something different. “Words tend to do the trick.” She manages to say, and it isn’t helpful to either of them, and it isn’t useful, but it’s all she can really manage in this moment of insecurity.

 

[Aerynth]

Great, now Remin looked terrified as well. At least she wasn't alone in it, which might have provided her with a twisted kind of solace if it didn't make her feel so awful. What exactly did Remin imagine to be behind her words? Almost definitely something so far from the truth it wasn't even funny, but Cyreia couldn't really fault her for that. Not with her background. Not when a sharp knife seemed to be hiding in every shadow. "Words might work," she chuckled, though it was a humorless laugh. It sounded more like an extended sigh than anything else. Well, I can't go back now, can I? Some part of her would have liked to back away, to retreat like a coward, but that door was closed. Remin wouldn't let her get away with that, which was the entire reason Cyreia had prefaced her revelation with the little speech in the first place. To make sure that she would be forced to say it.

"I'm... not really Avther," she said, and then it immediately occurred to her that it might not have been the best choice of words given the whole plan to kill and replace her. God, how many times would she mess up before finally managing to get her point across? "I mean, I am. Don't worry, I'm not a lookalike. It's still me, for better or worse, except that Avther doesn't exist. Kind of. He does and doesn't. It's complicated." That... probably made everything even more confusing and Cyreia wanted to scream. Why did organizing her thoughts have to be so difficult? Why couldn't she just spit it out? The truth was there, practically burning a hole through her tongue, and yet she couldn't speak. "You know, maybe words aren't the best idea after all. Let me show you instead."

And with that, Cyreia started undoing the buttons on her robe. Her fingers suddenly grew clumsy and heavy; they struggled with the task more than they should have, really. Each movement required a level of precision that currently seemed unattainable. Ultimately, though, the fabric slipped down, revealing the upper half of her body. It was covered in a web of scars, many of which hadn't healed as nicely as they could have. It was also very obviously a woman's body, despite the bandages over her chest hiding practically everything. Cyreia looked up to Remin, somehow managing to curve her lips up in a nervous smile despite feeling like she was about to faint. It was terribly hot and cold at the same time. "Well. This is my issue."

 

[Conifer]

What she notices first are the scars - the marks across Avther’s body that make her heart heart for what must have caused each of them despite her worries. Those are for a moment, until she properly sees, what she thinks he’s revealing to her. She had no misconceptions that the war hadn’t touched him, though. She’d seen a scar or two beneath his sleeve, and with his penchant for danger, there’s no way he didn’t carry a good number of them. She hadn’t expected this many, but...but it was no half-truth, no almost-lie, no betrayal. But then she sees it - the softness to him she wouldn’t have expected despite the strength of him, the binding around his chest.
The thoughts that had been jumbled in her head before go silent as her eyes land there, revealing what was very much not what she had expected. All she can do is just /look/, staring in a way that would be utterly inappropriate if she had any care in her for that at the moment. She had nothing in her at the moment - just realization that she didn’t know what to do with.
Remin finally pulls her eyes from the bandaging, but it’s hard to know where else to look. They land on the scars. She can handle the scars. They’re new and unknown as well, and give her something to focus on as she tries to fill her mind with thoughts again.
The betrayal might have been kinder. His clumsy lead up, seeming to prove her worries right, was manageable. She would have known what to say if that tumble of words had ended with anything besides this. Betrayal wouldn’t have been better, so much not better, but it would have been easier. She could handle that. She could react to that. She could be angry about that. She’d been trained to expect betrayal. This, though-- this she had no idea what to do with. No training came along with this, no script to use as a base. She couldn’t fall back on muscle memory, and gods, she didn’t have the social skills without that to respond to this.

“I…” she tries to speak, but she still has no idea what to say. What do you say to this? What can you say? “That is-- that’s unexpected.”

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia didn't know what to brace herself for, and it seemed that Remin, in turn, had no idea how to react. The utter shock in her eyes was... well. Not that she had expected anything else, not really, but it would have been better for Remin to get mad. It wouldn't have been kinder, that much was true. It would have been more manageable, though. Cyreia, after all, knew how to counter anger. How to deal with this, though? With... what was it, even? Surprise? Disappointment? A mix of both or something else entirely? Why did Remin have to be so unreadable? And then she said that it was unexpected. Unexpected, of all things. God. Cyreia couldn't suppress the burst of laughter even if she tried to.

"That's an understatement of the year, is it not?" It was hard to look her in the eye, but Cyreia didn't flinch. Remin didn't deserve that. Not in this moment; not after she had finally come clean. "I... I should try to explain." Remin hadn't asked for an explanation, so it was entirely possible that she didn't want to hear it - that she didn't care anymore - but Cyreia needed to provide it. Needed it so much that it almost hurt physically. Remin had to understand why she had done... all of this. She didn't have to forgive her, but she had to know. "Remember the story of how I joined the army? Entirely true, except that... well, they wouldn't have allowed me to join as... as a woman." God, the word felt so foreign on her tongue. How long it had been since she had referred to herself as such aloud? Had she ever done that? Cyreia had been more of a girl back then, after all. Certainly not a woman. "So I had to do this," she shrugged, desperately trying to maintain control over her voice. For some reason, it was more and more difficult to go on. "And then everything kind of spiraled out of control when I got famous and I couldn't go back to how things were and--" A sob interrupted her words and then, only then did she realize that tears were streaming down her face. The combination of lying to Remin, vulnerability of her position and finally acknowledging how much of this she had never wanted? It was too much, entirely too much, and once the initial sob broke through her defenses, it was impossible to stop. "-- I'm sorry," she managed to get out despite that.

 

[Conifer]

It’s terrible, to be grateful for Avther’s tears, but she is all the same. They’re something to focus on, something she can fix - or, no, not fix, but provide comfort for. Remin reaches out quickly, moving out of her chair and onto the space of the bed just beside him - her? Gods, this was going to be strange. But right now, it didn’t matter. This complication didn’t matter. Just the tears, just the sobs, and just the feeling that she wanted to wrap Avther up in her arms and try to make it okay.
There was little stopping her from doing the first, and so she does it. It’s more of Avther’s skin than she’s touched, ever, with her shirtless like this, but that’s not even a thought in Remin’s head as she tucks her against her chest, holding her close, but loose, in case she wants to be away from her. This wasn’t someone who’d kept truths from her - this was just someone in over their head, who’d plunged too deep too fast and was scrambling to get her head above water again. Remin understood that much. The rest could wait. “It’s okay.” She murmurs softly. She doesn’t know if it is, truly, but-- Avther feels no different in her arms, and she focuses on that. The press she kisses into her hair feels no different, where she wipes tears away against her cheek feels no different. That’s easy to focus on. “Shh, it’s okay.” Distantly she wonders if they’d locked the door and hoped they had. No one would come in and bother them, likely, but this would be perhaps the worst position to be found in that they could be. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, just Avther does right now.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia did not want to be away from her. That was maybe the last thing she wanted right now. Instead of shying away, she clung to the comfort of her embrace, to the familiarity of her warmth. Did Remin actually mean all of that? Was it really fine or did she just... default to kindness because that was what her wife did? The memory of her initially wanting to forgive even Vestat out of all people still lingered fresh in her mind, but... Honestly, it didn't matter right now. She was desperate for a semblance of stability and Remin gave her just that. Remin, who always seemed to give her exactly what she needed without asking for anything in return. Why had she ever entertained the thought of this ending up differently? Had experience not taught her otherwise?

"I'm sorry," she repeated through the veil of tears, though the sobs were getting a little bit more quiet. A little bit more subdued, a little bit more manageable. As always, the world seemed like a less hostile place while in Remin's arms. It was easy to believe her in that moment; easy to believe that everything would magically turn out to be alright. "Cyreia," she said quietly. That word, too, tasted strange; a fragment of her past that should have been forgotten by now. It wasn't, though. Never had been, not really. "That's... that's my name. I feel like you should know, considering the fact that we're married." God, now wasn't that absurd? They were married, a wife and... a wife, Cyreia supposed, and Remin was just learning her name. It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad.