Fantasy All's Fair

[Conifer]

“Cyreia,” She says, and somehow that’s harder to deal with than Avther being a woman. At the moment it is, at least. At the moment, whatever Avther is doesn’t matter - it feels the same to hold her, she sounds the same, it’s easy enough to ignore the fact that something’s changed if she doesn’t look at her. But a name? That’s harder. It feels more like a replacement of the person she’s grown fond of, when combined with the rest of it.
But it doesn’t matter. Not when the person in her arms looks even more distraught over this than she feels. “Cyreia. That’s-- that’s a nice name.” It is, it genuinely is, but it feels all sorts of wrong in her mouth. She lets out an unsteady breath. Cyreia needs her to be steady more than she needs to be upset, right now. She can do this, she can handle this. She handled Tristan, she handled the wedding, she can handle it - she can be the person Cyreia needs right now, and deal with the rest of it later, when she’s alone and the woman hasn’t just bared her soul to her.

Her hold on her does loosen, though, as she calms down. Remin pulls her hands back into her own space, but doesn’t move away from Cyreia on the bed. She doesn’t know how to handle /this/, but she knows how to handle feeling lost and unsure and now that it’s all less of a shock, she feels more able to ignore it. She, instead, takes Cyreia’s hand, holding it in both of hers. “We’ll handle this. It will...complicate things, but we’ll handle it. I appreciate you telling me.” Her words feel hollow and forced and so transparently wrong and she can’t help it - what else can she say besides practiced phrases?

 

[Aerynth]

This was going... better than she had anticipated, honestly. Remin seemed to be doing remarkably well considering the fact her world had just shifted 180 degrees. And Cyreia? She still felt shaky and unsteady and fragile, but not as terribly as before. Her breathing calmed down somewhat, too. Being able to focus on Remin - the only stable point in her life - certainly helped. Perhaps this could be handled, after all. Perhaps this didn't have to end in... whatever tragic scenario she had painted in her mind. In heartbreak. Was this even real? It felt too good, too easy to be true, and it was entirely possible for her to wake up only to find out it had merely been a dream. Until then, though, Cyreia had to take it at face value.

"It's never been anything but complication," she agreed, her words barely louder than whisper. So, so many complications. God, Remin couldn't even begin to imagine. Yet, despite that, she's there for me. Cyreia wanted to reach out and touch her, touch her as she had so many times before, though she didn't dare to. The rules they had established throughout their relationship suddenly seemed so blurred they may as well have never existed at all. They certainly didn't now. Avther could caress her whenever he felt like it, but what about Cyreia? Did she have the same priviledge? Did Remin want to touch her or did she only do so to comfort her? Out of the kindness of her heart? Either way, Cyreia wouldn't take more than her wife was willing to give. "I-- Thank you. For everything." A thank you seemed so desperately insufficient, but what else was there for her to say? No words could possibly express the depths of her relief. "Is there... is there anything I can do to make all of this at least a little bit easier for you?" she asked gently. Remin showed her exactly nothing, but it must have been difficult for her as well; possibly even moreso than for her. Cyreia had, at the very least, lived with the knowledge of who she was. None of this shocked her, aside maybe for her wife's reaction. Remin, though? Everything had changed for her with little to no warning. "If it helps, I think this is the last surprise. I doubt that I can ever top this."

 

[Conifer]

Is there anything she can do? No -- no, there’s not, there’s so solidly not, unless time can twist back in on itself, but that would solve nothing for anybody, and Cyreia would still be existing as someone she wasn’t, which is no better than Remin knowing the truth and having no idea what to do with it. Gods. She feels selfish for even thinking of wanting that - when she’d been so trusting of Remin, to tell her this, and to tell her this before she had no choice but not to. And here Remin was, wishing for a return to the thing that left Cyreia sobbing in her arms with the weight of holding. Despite being the same hands she’d held only minutes before, walking back down the hall to the room, where she touches feels overwhelming, and not in the pleasant way they once had. Not bad, just -- baffling. She manages to say nothing to that question, grateful that she’d kept talking long enough for there to be something else to focus on.

But even that goes worse than she hopes for it to. “I should hope it is.” She replies, trying to tease, trying for lightness and leavity and proof that Cyreia doesn’t need to worry, that Remin will be at her side (because she has to, however cruel that thought feels to them both,) and will help her with this (because there’s no choice but to, cruel again) - but the teasing and the lightness are far too heavy and flat. Her tone sounds grim and serious, like she’s ruling judgement on Cyreia for her potential secrets. She hates it.

“I’m sorry,” She says, quick and shaking, hoping to be quick enough to hit Cyreia before hurt from her previous comment does. She pulls her hands away from hers, standing, and tugging her hair from the rest of its pins. It’s all she can do to keep herself here, in this room - but as much as she’s always wanted to run from things, she can’t afford to. Soldiers or surprises, it makes no difference. Her feet stay rooted, and she stays standing, awkward and unsure of what to do and feeling like some jetsam thrown overboard into depths that threaten to pull her down. She can't look at her, but she can't look anywhere else, and the combination doesn't make her seem more steady.

 

[Aerynth]

Alright, perhaps this wasn't going as well after all. The words that came next felt like a whip against her bare skin and she had to employ all of her self-control to avoid recoiling from the impact. It only worked partially. This is ridiculous, Cyreia tried to say to herself because she shouldn't be feeling like that, not when Remin was apparently willing to work with her and her messed up situation instead of... god, reporting her to the Eupriunian authorities, or doing one of the other million things that could destroy her, but she couldn't exactly control her feelings. She could never really do that, could she? Suddenly, her gaze seemed to be glued to the floor.

"It's fine," she said and it wasn't, it was the furthest thing possible from that, and she made no attempt to make it sound belieavable at all. Cyreia knew herself well enough to know that it would have failed anyways and, besides, trying to hide things from Remin felt like a giant waste of energy after revealing everything that mattered. In this moment, she could afford to be sincere. It had probably cost her their relationship, so why not, at the very least, enjoy that little piece of freedom now? The freedom not to pretend? The price for it had been paid. Perhaps it had been more expensive than she had hoped it to be, though. Well, it didn't matter. Nothing did. "You don't have to do this, you know," she said into the resulting silence, still refusing to look her in the eye. Somehow, her voice didn't shake. It was probably the certainty, really. Before, she had been tormented by endless what ifs, hollow hopes and assumptions that stretched on and on. In contrast, everything seemed to be clear now. Painful, but clear. Cyreia would take that over uncertainty any day. Was she not good at getting used to unbearable situations? This pain, too, would be just a distant memory in time. That thought brought her some degree of comfort, or at least that was what she said to herself.

"Well, you have to, I suppose, since you're kinda stuck with me. You don't have to do more than bare minimum of tolerating my presence, though. I... expected this to go badly and I don't blame you if you resent me now. I made my bed, so I will lie in it." More than anything, Cyreia sounded tired at that moment. Tired and crushed. God, she must have looked terrible as well, with her eyes red from crying and the sorry state of her body, yet she couldn't even begin to care. At least her appearance reflected the reality for once. Being so honest felt almost refreshing, really.

 

[Conifer]

Remin moves to the mirror along the wall of the room, above the small dresser they’d been provided with and entirely ignored. There was little point to it, for their overnight stay. She tugs needs something to do, somewhere to look, and it’s easier to see Cyreia here, in distraught reflection, than it is to truly face her. She works her hair out of its pins a little more purposefully than she had been, trying not to tug as much as she had been just before. “I don’t resent you.” She can at least say that honestly, she can at least say that without feeling like her words are cutting into them both. “It’s just-- complicated.” That can be said honestly too. Gods, is it complicated. She can close her eyes or look away and pretend that nothing’s changed, but that doesn’t put anything back. It doesn’t re-create the man that never existed in the first place.

She takes a breath, grabbing her brush and beginning to work it through her hair. It helps to have something to do. One, two, three - she counts the passes she makes for a moment, focusing. “If nothing else you’ve said to me is - if everything else has been genuine, then I very much don’t resent you.” It’s still the same person it was yesterday. Still the same person it was before. Literally nothing has changed besides a name and some nudity. Somehow that doesn’t make it better. “It just...complicates. But this whole mess has been complicated from the beginning, and has only grown more and more complicated. I’m sure I can manage this. I can better manage this better than if you meant to doom Athea.” Manage it, like it was some problem she could plot and plan away with the help of advisors. Gods, she didn’t know how to handle things like this. She wasn’t even entirely sure that she /could/ handle this better than if he’d intended to betray her. That, at least, she had some sort of plan of action around. This? This left her faltering.

 

[Aerynth]

The certainty slipped from her reach again as if taunting her. Was she allowed to hope? The thing was, hope didn't tend to ask for one's permission before planting itself in a person's heart. It didn't do that with Cyreia, either. "It has been genuine, all of it. Well, besides the excuse I told you to justify lying on the floor during our first night together, but I suspect that you saw through that one immediately anyway." It hadn't been a very good excuse and Cyreia wasn't a very good liar; not exactly a convincing combination. The only reason she had managed to keep her secret hidden for so long in the first place was that nobody bothered to question her. Nobody suspected her. When people looked at her, they saw a man; a notion that was supported by her armor, the sword hanging around her waist and the confidence she wore when barking out orders. Everyone saw what they expected to see, as they often did. Now, though? Cyreia had none of her usual props and she felt utterly naked.

"I've never intended that. Not even in the beginning," she shook her head. Manage. The word she had used was manage, not accept or forgive. Remin had also spoken of duties, not... the other things they shared, or had shared. How very telling. Not resenting someone did not necessarily mean liking them, much less loving them; that she was incredibly aware of. Would they go back to it being just business again? Quite possibly. Expecting to recover from all of this would be foolish, after all. It was better to dash the hopes before they grew uncontrollably and hurt her even more in the end. That always seemed to happen somehow. Why did she still bother with optimism again?

"I suppose that, in a way, this makes us more equal. Now you have a leverage," Cyreia pointed out. "I couldn't betray you even if I wanted to." Not without silencing her first, but she would sooner hurt herself than lay a hand on Remin. Even the thought of doing anything remotely close to that felt blasphemous. "I don't, I really don't, but... at least you have a guarantee. A sense of safety in this mess."

 

[Conifer]

She watches her in the mirror as she responds. Still Avther, still not. There was no way to parse the two as one, not in a way she'd figured out yet. It felt like Cyreia was an overlay on top of the already familiar. Would the merge? Surely they would.

It...it certainly wasn't a matter of attraction. Remin had done little to indulge the way she felt towards women - or men, admittedly, her actual experience beyond quick glances under the excuse of admiring the fashion reduced to entirely just Avther. But that didn't mean it wasn't /there/. Honestly, as appealing as Avther had been before, this was...well. Complicated. Complicating. Alluring, or would be, did it not accompany a healthy dose of not knowing what to feel or do about any of this. "It also," she says quietly, finally turning back towards her, hair as brushed through as it will ever be. "Explains quite a lot about that mess at the tailor's." She almost feels that she should have seen it, this twist. This had always been there, visible if you knew to look. It wasn't Avther one moment, and not the next. But it's still so much, and she hasn't known to look. This had been as unexpected as anything.


Remin moves back to the chair she was originally sitting in, when they'd first started talking, and finally lets herself look. She'd looked before, she'd just been looking, but...But she looks now to see Avther, and not the shock of Cyreia. That can come next, when she's processed this much. Remin reaches out, cupping his cheek in a hand. "I promise you," because at least she can do this much. Cyreia had trusted her with this, and she wasn't going to be one to betray that. "This isn't something that I'll use against you unless I'm made to. I have no death wish for you if you don't have one for me. And unless I've made enough of a fool of myself now to have earned one, I think we're likely both safe from that." Remin has no doubts that this /would/ be a death for Cyreia, at this point. Perhaps not in Athea, but with what she'd taught her about Eupriunia...It wouldn't end well, if it didn't end in death, at least. "Your trust isn't something I'll hold above your head as a threat." Finally, she can feel like she's speaking genuinely - soft and honest and not stiff with learned tone or panicked desperation. "It's not leverage, and it won't be used as it."

 

[Aerynth]

"Yeah, I... don't tend to do well with tailors," Cyreia said with the tiniest of smiles. Despite her fright, despite the cold despair growing in her stomach, this was somewhat funny. Or maybe it felt funny exactly because of that; stress often made her resort to laughter. Perhaps a counterintuitive response, but one that allowed her to... manage. To endure. "You should have seen the things I did when they arranged meetings with tailors for me in Eupriunia for parades and such. I bribed some of them, scared away the rest and before they knew it, no tailor in the country would work with me. I don't think anyone ever understood Avther's apparent hatred for those poor people." Thankfully, it hadn't mattered that much. The army mainly cared for results and Cyreia had provided those in spades. Such little quirks had been easily forgiven in the grand scheme of things.

"I never suspected you of doing that," she sighed, though large part of her felt grateful, both for her touch and for that confirmation. It was nice to know for sure that her trust wasn't misplaced. "I don't think so little of you, Remin. It's just that... well, I was trying to find a silver lining. Some way for you to benefit. I honestly don't mind this serving as a safeguard, especially since I'm not planning to act against you." Cyreia had held all the power in this relationship from the very beginning, so tipping the scales in Remin's favor sounded more than fair to her. It could even help ease some of the guilt she had been carrying on her shoulders since the wedding. "I still appreciate the sentiment, though." Hopefully it shone through her distress. Whether it bothered her or not, her attempts to make her feel more comfortable meant a lot.

"I really am sorry," Cyreia said, relatively calm now, but still visibly shaken. How long would it take her to return back to normal? Would it ever happen? "I never wanted to drag other people into my little charade. Not to such extent. I had no idea it would lead to all of this. I was... I was just doing my job." A job she had had no right to be doing; not according the laws of her country at the very least. Cyreia had trouble seeing it as a sin, though. Grasping some power for herself when she had proven to be capable of wielding it only made sense. It followed the core Eupriunian principles even, if one ignored the tiny detail of her being a woman. But having to lie to everyone to achieve that? That did sting. Painfully so.

 

[Conifer]

She's quiet, her hand still on her cheek. Should she move it away? Maybe. But she doesn't. "And then it got carried away." She says softly. It's harder that Cyreia's done nothing that Remin can truly blame her for. It wasn't some intentional ruse - just a desperate need to find a foothold. It's admiral, if anything, the lengths she'd gone to and the time she'd spent undetected. "It's alright." Remin assures her, softly, again. "There's little to apologize for. You had little choice in all of this. I can't imagine coming clean to have even been an option before you came here, and-" and while she wishes that she'd told her before they'd grown close like this, she understands the need for trust before she could even think of doing that. It could have been so much worse for her, had Remin been someone different. "-and I appreciate you coming clean with it before you were forced to. Before ages had passed." She likely could have. She'd asked for patience, and Remin would have given it to her for as long as she'd needed. It would have raised concerns, perhaps, but no suspicion of this of all things. How long could all of this have gone on with her being ignorant to it?


She sighs softly, brushing Cyreia's hair back before she drops her hand back into her own lap. "We'll find a tailor who we can trust to keep this secret. You'll have to have things tailored, but you don't have to do it with someone who makes you uncomfortable." What else was there to do? What else could she fix until all she was left to deal with was her own emotions on the matter? "There's the issue of an heir, now, but we can approach solving that problem when it's truly a problem. We have time before anyone expects that of us. Years, perhaps." Before then, they could simply explain that they were busy with recovery efforts, that there isn't time. It would hardly even be a lie.

 

[Aerynth]

The understanding tasted so sweet; if she could, Cyreia would melt into it. The next best thing was to lean into Remin's touch, so she did that instead. There was an impulse to caress her as well, to just continue where they had left off as if nothing had happened at all, but it wasn't as simple. Plenty had happened and Cyreia did not want to overstep her boundaries. Not again. For now, she would hold back and let Remin dictate the tempo. Let her take it wherever she wished. It seemed like the first truly good choice since the wedding, really. Or at least the first good choice free of any ambiguities.

"I kind of planned to stick to borrowed clothes for the rest of my life," Cyreia admitted, acutely aware of how ridiculous it must have sounded. Most of her long-term plans had been like that, though. To stay alone for the rest of her life, to never really get close to anyone, to die during some conquest in some nameless country before anyone could find out. It was likely a testament to how poor those plans were that every single one of them had fallen through. "But yes, I do realize that it's stupid. I suppose that it will be fine, if we find someone trustworthy. It wasn't like nobody knew when I was in the army. I mostly avoided seeking out medical help when I could," hence all the scars, "but there were situations when I couldn't do that. Luckily, the doctor I stumbled upon didn't care. To him, I was just a patient. Apparently, there were more people like me, but I never met them, or never knew that I met them." It really had been a lonely existence. Looking at it now, Cyreia had no idea how she had managed to keep it up for so long. Spending so much time in her own head, even if that was often the worst place to be, had probably helped.

The mention of an heir, though, caused her mouth to open in surprise. Well. That wasn't something she had considered at all, even though it seemed so obvious now. Of course that they were expected to provide an heir sooner or later. The country needed one. Monarchies simply worked that way. "... I think that, for now, that may be a good thing. I can't imagine how some of those people would react if we... if we had a child in the near future." God, that was such a strange idea. Cyreia had never even thought about having children. It had seemed distinctly impossible and, besides, she wasn't interested in men. "Do you want one?" she asked carefully, unsure of whether there actually was an answer to that question that wouldn't hurt them both.

 

[Conifer]

Had Cyreia not realised that someday, they’d have to have a child? Surely someone would have mentioned that expectation to her, or surely it had occurred to her before now...but apparently not, if the expression on her face was any indication of the realization just sinking in. Well, Remin’s glad she’s mentioned it then, if only to spare him the surprise years down the line, when they’ve settled into whatever life they had. The question takes her unaware, though, if her own expression of gentle surprise and then, quickly, resignation, settles on her face. “It matters very little what I want.” Remin replies, as diplomatically as she could. It’s never really something she considered to be not an option, regardless of her feelings on that matter. It’s never been a choice. “It’s my duty, just as it was to marry you. If it turns out as well as marrying you-” because, despite this, this was so far better than what she’d come to expect from this marriage. “-then I’ll consider myself lucky, but...but what I want about this doesn’t matter.” Her thoughts of her future had always featured some nebulous child - undefined and unsure, just knowing that it had to be there - and it was strange to think of the possibility that perhaps there was a universe where that didn’t need to be the case. She didn’t linger in that thought long; it was easier, simply, to know that it had to be done and not allow herself to consider alternatives that were unreachable just in case one of them proved more appealing.

 

[Aerynth]

"It matters to me," Cyreia said, resoluteness ringing in her voice for the first time since her confession. Duty was duty, of course, and she would never advocate for shirking it outright, but... sometimes it demanded too much, it seemed. Swinging a sword to protect one's country was one thing. Having a child solely to continue your family line, though? Cyreia wouldn't do that. Worse still, she hated the idea of Remin having to sacrifice herself to such a degree. Parenthood was too intimate, too to serious be reduced to something like that. To something one had to do regardless of their wishes.

"I know that this probably sounds rich coming from me since you would not have married me in the first place if it wasn't for your duty, but... sometimes these things are ridiculous. You shouldn't be forced to go through... the whole process of having a child if you don't want to." Maybe she was speaking out of turn, offering her opinion when Remin wasn't interested in hearing it, but it felt necessary to say. "If you want this, then we'll find a way. Somehow." That would probably involve things Cyreia was less than comfortable with, yet... she would swallow those feelings. Remin could hardly be faulted for seeking alternatives when she couldn't satisfy her needs in certain regards. God, everything was so complicated that it almost made her head hurt. "But if not-- well, people cannot have children at times. It just happens, even with couples who seem healthy otherwise. It's not something that can be controlled and everyone would have to accept that."

 

[Conifer]

“Avther, this isn’t something up for debate.” She shakes her head sharply, realizing her slip just too late to fix it elegantly. Inelegant it is, then. “Cyreia.” Remin corrects, settling back in her chair, resigned - to the name, to her future, to her duty. All of it. There was no point to questioning it when that’s simply how things were. “It’s expected of us. Of me. If this is a matter of you not wanting children, you don’t need to be involved in their life further than you’re comfortable with. But it’s not--” She sighs, heavy and overwhelmed. Maybe this would have been a discussion had on a better day, where there’s already so much weight on them both. But it’s not a better day, and the discussion is already happening. “It’s my duty to. Just as it’s my duty to marry you, just as it’s my duty to show up and smile to parties, just as it’s my duty to do any of the things we’ve done. It’s the cost that comes with the life I’m lucky enough to have. I’ve been free from most of the effects of the war, and of hunger or poverty, and following my duty is the price I’ve paid for that. There’s few things I’ve been able to do because I simply wanted to, or didn’t want to, and this isn’t among them.” She’s quiet for a moment, picking a bit of lint from her dress and watching it fall onto the cold stone of the floor as she drops it.
“And if we /didn’t/, then- gods, I wouldn’t want to know the power scramble after that. Neither of my parents had siblings that are still living, and none that had children themselves. So there’s no natural next besides me. If they had, this would be less of an issue, but if we died before an heir was determined - well. The civil infighting wouldn’t leave this country in a state worth ruling. You’ve met the people willing to kill us for the attempt at the throne - do you doubt they’d be against killing others for the same chance, once we were out of the way?” Remin shakes her head. “This isn’t a matter where I have a choice. But your involvement is...apparently even less necessary than it was previously.” She doesn’t mean it to be mean, to be cruel, but it feels like everything she’s saying about that specific matter tonight comes out that way. Gods. She’s just so tired. Nothing sounds better than simply being /home/ right now, and she can’t help how tears well up in her eyes at the thought of none of this weighing over her for just a moment or two. She wipes at her eyes quickly, hoping Cyeria didn’t notice, but knowing that gesture alone brought too much attention to it. “I can deal with this alone if I must, as long as I have your willingness to pretend.”

 

[Aerynth]

Alright, ouch. Cyreia couldn't help but wince at her words, painful and purposeful and sharper than an edge of any sword. Nobody could make her smile as easily as Remin, but the downside was, it seemed, that nobody could hurt her as easily, either. A part of her wanted to lash out. To defend herself from the insult. The tears in Remin's eyes - the tears she tried to hide so desperately - dissolved her anger before it could truly manifest itself, though. No, Cyreia would be patient here. This affected Remin much more than it affected her, so it was natural for her to have strong feelings about it. The hurtful things she had said? That was nothing in comparison with the understanding she had gifted her earlier. Nothing in comparison with the things that awaited her, too. Just like so many times before, Cyreia put her own emotions aside.

"It's not-- it wasn't about me not wanting to be involved in their life, so don't make it about that, please," Cyreia said, her tone careful and controlled. Despite her earlier assertion, she reached for her hand. That touch seemed safe, after all, and Remin looked so... drifting. So desperate for support. "I didn't think of the consequences. You're forgetting that I am just an uncultured soldier. I thought of you, your part in it, and I didn't want that for you if you were against it. That's all." She sighed and squeezed her hand softly. "But I think I didn't express myself well. I tend to do that a lot, as you have probably noticed already. Either way, my point is, I don't want you to deal with anything alone. I will be there for you, no matter what you decide to do in the end. For the child, too. Or children. I don't know how many of them you want." Saying that felt strange, almost surreal, but... she didn't actually mind that much. It would be bizarre and painful, but what part of her life couldn't be described with those words? Cyreia would just get used to it. It couldn't be that horrible in the context of everything else she'd been through. Maybe she would learn to enjoy it even, as foreign as the idea of it sounded to her now.

 

[Conifer]

The touch helps as much as it doesn’t, but she doesn’t have it in her to pull away. She doesn’t want to pull away, even if she could bring herself to. It’s a tiny point of grounding - where she can feel slightly more solid, tethered to something, even if that something was causing all these feelings (or at least a good number of them.) Remin pulls her legs up into the chair, curling up up into herself a bit. It’s rare that she looks as young as she is, but she must look it now, hair loose and eyes looking lost and rimmed with red, pressed as small as she can be into this room. As if that could do any good to hide her, to shield her, from any of this. It can’t, and it won’t, no matter how much she tries to make it, but that doesn’t stop her from it all the same.

“I don’t know either.” She admits with a soft shrug. “I’ve never-- I haven’t put too much thought into it. I knew it would happen someday, and so there was little point to dwelling on it until it happened, and...whatever happened would happen regardless of much of my own opinion on it. And if I had an opinion, it wouldn’t do much good to have it until the time came.” What must Cyreia think of her living like this? A woman who had defied what society had expected of her so thoroughly, looking at a woman so utterly defined by what society expected of her that she didn’t dare form her own opinions of what she wanted from her life. It must be nearly laughable to hear her - or pitiful, if not laughable. It was hard to know what option might be kinder to Remin’s ego. “We don’t need to deal with all of this now.” She says quietly, hoping that the topic will be dropped before she has to find out the answer to that. “It’s just--” Remin runs her spare hand through her hair, before wrapping it around her knees, pulling them to her chest. “--something to be aware of. To keep in mind, as we continue.” Continue what? Their relationship? Their partnership? Their ruling? She didn’t have the faintest idea what she meant.

 

[Aerynth]

Seeing Remin in such a state felt strange. Strange and utterly heartbreaking. It may have been selfish, but Cyreia had come to view her as her anchor; as someone who always knew what do no matter what. Her wife wasn't that, though. Not by a long shot. Remin was a person, as hopelessly lost and confused in this mess as her. Cyreia wanted to shield her from all of this, except that this threat couldn't be defeated by a sword and it bothered her more than words could possibly express. "We don't," Cyreia agreed, her tone gentle. Perhaps there were other ways, ways Remin hadn't considered in her acceptance of her fate, but pressing the topic now would have been counterproductive. They had all the time in the world. They could think about it, discuss all the options and act when they were ready. When Remin was ready, because it concerned her wife more than her. And if no other solution surfaced? Cyreia would keep her word and be there for her. It was far from simple, but it just wouldn't get more simple than that. Simplicity wasn't something they could ever hope for. "We can deal with this later when there aren't more pressing issues for us to attend to. We'll do it together," because I won't allow you to be alone, "and it will be alright." A foolish promise, certainly, but Cyreia had never claimed not to be a fool. Quite the contrary, in fact.

"God, I did not expect to be having this conversation today," she chuckled quietly. "Or ever, to be honest. I didn't expect a lot of things, though." Like falling in love, for example. Cyreia almost said it, but she managed to catch herself just in time to swallow those words. Springing that on her without any warning would have been incredibly unfair; this night had been intense enough already and Cyreia was very aware that confessions of love carried certain expectations with them. Expectations of reciprocation, to be precise. No, Remin deserved some time to process all of this. Perhaps the opportunity to tell her would never come, perhaps Remin's feelings were destined to fizzle out, but that was alright, too. Cyreia didn't need to tell her in order to keep loving her. That was one of the beautiful things about it.

"Want to go to sleep? I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted." With her secret out of the bag, Cyreia didn't mind terribly for Remin to see her. The idea of parading around in a state of undress in front of anyone was mildly panic-inducing after all those years of treating her body as potential blackmail material, but... Remin knew already. Remin was safe. With that thought in mind, she undressed herself and put on her nightwear.

 

[Conifer]

Remin dressed quietly as well, keeping her gaze from Cyreia as she changed. She had little desire to see what she hadn’t at this moment in time, and hopefully no longer seeing what she hadn’t expected to see when Cyreia was dressed again would help settle her. It did, somewhat, when she climbed into the bed beside her (which felt so normal that it almost wrapped back around to being strange). She hesitates at closing the distance between them that the large bed allows, and then does so, resting close enough beside Cyriea that it was as if nothing had changed since the night before. “I just need time with this.” She says quietly, reaching out to take her hand and give it a soft squeeze. “It’s...a lot.” That feels like it doesn’t need to be spoken - it’s a lot to her, too, if her tears earlier were any indication. “I’m sorry I’m handling it terribly. I feel ridiculous that I can handle an attempt on my life better than I can my husband being my wife, but-- one of these things I was warned of.” She laughs weakly, shifting to look at Cyreia. Now that they were a short while removed from the reveal, it was-- well. It wasn’t easier. That wouldn’t come for a while. But she felt more sturdy in the face of it. “Logically I know nothing has changed. You are you, as you’ve always been. It’s just...not the logic of it that I’m having difficulty with. But I’ll get there. You-- you asked for patience before, and now I’m returning the request.” She’d learned to love him once, and those feelings were still so solidly there. She just didn’t know what to /do/ with them right now.

 

[Aerynth]

What would their nights be like? Would they each retreat to their own bed when they had the opportunity to do so as they had done in the beginning? Would they seek out one another's presence as they had started to do later? Would it somehow be entirely different? Something new? Cyreia couldn't help but wonder about that as she made herself comfortable in the bed. She didn't really feel comfortable, not after everything that had happened today, but it would have to do. This wouldn't stop her from getting some well-deserved rest.

And then, against her expectations, Remin reached out to her. Reached out and spoke. Cyreia grabbed her hand and smiled, thankful for the bit of warmth. "You're not handling this terribly, Remin. I actually think you're doing very well, all things considered. I'm... not exactly making it easy for you." It hadn't been easy from the very beginning, with her being Eupriunian and a commoner and whatnot, and her wife had taken everything in stride in spite of that. Condemning her for one single reaction that was not one hundred percent perfect would have been cruel. It wasn't even terrible, really, just... not exactly what she had wanted. Remin didn't have to be exactly what she wanted, though. Remin was Remin and that was more than enough. "It's fine," Cyreia echoed her earlier words, except that she meant them this time. "Even if... even if it doesn't work out." Because that could very well happen. So many things seemed to be completely out of her control here. Her feelings were hers, of course, but the rest of it? Cyreia couldn't hope to be able to influence everything. "I won't hold it against you if that happens. Either way, you will have as much time as you need. It's not like I'm going anywhere." There was a brief silence after that. "Goodnight, Remin."

Despite her determination to get some rest, Cyreia didn't actually end up sleeping too well. She tossed and turned, easily woken up by every sound, and once the morning came, it felt like she hadn't slept at all. The dark circles under her eyes were a testament to that. "Good morning," she yawned when Remin woke up as well. "I hope it's better than mine at the very least, because I've certainly seen better. How do you feel? Are you ready to face lady Everbright and her inappropriate jokes for the last time?" God, she was going to make so many comments about them sleeping in the same room. Cyreia could picture it in vivid colors and it did not please her at all.

 

[Conifer]

Remin slept well enough - but if it hadn’t been for the draw of magic from opening the box and the tiredness that had come along with that, that may not have been entirely the case. She didn’t feel as rested as she should, on a bed like this, at any rate. But there was little to complain of; she felt better than Cyreia looked. Not that Cyreia looked bad. She never did - she just looked nearly as tired as she had the night before. “Quite honestly,” Remin says softly, wanting to cross the small distance between them (there wasn’t much, honestly, she could feel the heat of her against her skin) and allow herself closeness, but -- but she needed to figure herself out, first. Remin couldn’t do that to either of them, if it had changed things. She needed time to sort what was phantom want and what was honest (she was scared of any amount being either of those things. They both made this all so complicated, though in vastly different ways.) She’d asked for patience and been granted it. She wasn’t going to toss that away immediately. “Throwing our things from the window and escaping before she has a chance to notice we’re gone sounds far more appealing.”

Everbright had been easy enough to handle the day before, but now it felt like an entirely different story. Remin would manage it with just as much apparent ease, she knew she would, but that doesn’t mean it would truly be that easy. But she’d survive. They’d both survive. There was worse to face in the world than someone being well-meaning and enthusiastic. “Perhaps she’ll be more manageable when not running off attention, wine, and sweets.” Remin says as she sits up, looking down at Cyreia. Despite the strange tension, sitting here in this bed with her was a far more appealing option than getting up to get ready to face the day. “It may be a hope in vain,” She smiles softly. “But it’s a hope.”

 

[Aerynth]

"If it gets too unmanageable," Cyreia smiled through her fatigue, "I can distract her by fainting so you can run. Does fainting look like falling asleep very fast? Because I think I could pull it off very convincingly today." It was easy to fall back into the old rhythm of joking with Remin despite everything that had happened yesterday. That surprised her as much as it didn't. None of the way she had behaved in her presence had been pretense, so it only made sense, but... shouldn't things be more awkward? Shouldn't she feel more ashamed? Perhaps the talk they had had before falling asleep had helped. Cyreia certainly wasn't about to complain for somehow being able to seize a tiny amount of comfort, a tiny amount of normalcy in this whole mess. It gave her the hope that, eventually, things could be fine. That they would be fine, one way or another.

As much as she wanted to stay in bed, Cyreia knew they couldn't afford to insult Everbright by breaking their promise. It was very likely that the girl would forgive them, but why antagonize one of the few people who didn't seem to hate them? While she wasn't the most powerful ally they could have, they couldn't exactly choose friends now and getting along well with her was still distinctly better than... not doing that. Perhaps her charm could even help them in some tangible way. Hell, even if it didn't, Cyreia just didn't wish to be needlessly unkind to her. With all those thoughts in mind, she got up from the bed to get dressed. The morning light seemed a bit too intense, a bit too unforgiving, and the yesterday's confidence over showing her skin evaporated in it. She had never really minded how her scars looked before, but... well. It was different now, with someone she cared for potentially watching. Still, asking Remin to look away felt performative after the events of yesterday, so she didn't.
Cyreia simply turned around and worked as fast as she could.

"Well, I suppose that the sooner we deal with the breakfast, the sooner we can leave. Come on, let's go."

The breakfast, compared to the party, was a quiet affair. Not as many people were present and the ones who were still seemed to be recovering from yesterday. Cyreia could see the familiar signs of hangover in many of those sitting there. Not in lady Everbright, though. Either she could hold her liquor remarkably well or she hadn't actually drunk as much as Cyreia had suspected. Well, the reason behind it didn't matter. What mattered was that Everbright felt more than fine, which meant that they couldn't be expected to be left alone.

"Your highnesses! Good morning, good morning." She looked at them, taking in the contrast between Cyreia (who looked very obviously tired) and Remin (who seemed to be fine). "Did you happen to make his highness sleep on the floor, my queen?" the lady asked playfully. "Because I refuse to believe anyone could look like that after sleeping in our beds. We have the best mattresses!"

 

[Conifer]

Despite her not asking it of Remin, she kept her gaze averted as Cyreia changed into her day clothes, taking the time to change as well, on the other side of the room. There was no need to look, and she had no desire to. The tension in the room was...strange. There was far less of it than she’d expected, which almost made the whole thing more uncomfortable. It’s so strangely fine. But of /course/ it is. There’s worse things than this. Remin doesn’t bother with doing her hair further than brushing through it - she doesn’t want to keep them longer than they have to be, and she doesn’t want to sit alone with her thoughts for too long. The whole affair is too baffling for her to linger on it long if she wants to be able to hold proper conversation at breakfast.

Thankfully, Everbright gives her a chance for distraction quickly - maybe they’d even be able to avoid any of her prying questions into their love life that Remin didn’t know how to face. They’d been some amount of amusing yesterday. Charming, even, in their own way, to see someone truly happy for them. Overwhelming, yes, and annoying, but charming. “I did nothing of the sort.” Remin says, faintly, fakely amused. “Though my darling husband did find himself on the floor.” Hopefully Cyreia would forgive Remin for making a fool of her, but it’s an excuse that would hopefully cut back on many other comments. She’d make it up to her, somehow, if she minded. She’d make it up to her somehow even if she didn’t. Remin leans in, a stage whisper. “He fell, and in his exhaustion after yesterday, elected to stay there. I’ve since heard wonderful things about the comfort of your rugs.”

 

[Aerynth]

The lady threw her head back and laughed, clearly delighted with Remin's version of events. "You should have told me if you were so exhausted, my king. I would have simply let you go earlier. The Everbrights are no tyrants, even if talking to my sister may make you think otherwise." Cyreia chuckled along with the lady. The mental image of that was hilarious even if it couldn't be further from the reality, so it didn't sound very fake, either.

"No, my lady, that is quite fine. I actually prefer the floor. It's good for your back, you know, and it reminds me of the old times." Running with Remin's story seemed like the sensible option here. If Cyreia managed to take it far enough through sheer absurdity, perhaps Everbright would let their love life go and simply focus on that instead. "I think you should try it, too. You'd be surprised how good it actually feels."

"Hmm," the lady laughed, "I think not, my king, but thank you for the tip nevertheless. Now I'm actually worried that it's the other way around and you are forcing our dear queen to try sleeping on the floor instead."

"Absolutely not," Cyreia shook her head and filled her plate with some fruit. The table was full of various foods and everyone could take whatever they liked from the selection. She actually tended to opt for heartier meals so early in the morning as they provided her with much needed energy, but it didn't feel like her stomach could handle more than fruit today. "You cannot force that, my lady. I'm waiting for her to understand its benefits on her own. What do you say, my queen?" Was she going too far with this? Possibly, but it still felt better than letting Everbright dissect their relationship. This, at the very least, amused her. Not really knowing what they were to each other at this point didn't.

 

[Conifer]

Oh, good. If Cyeria had minded her telling a ridiculous story, she didn’t let on, and it seemed to do the trick of distracting Lady Everbright for the time being, as long as they could keep it going - or find something else to keep her distracted with, at least. Remin filled her own plate with food. She stuck to light things, not feeling much like eating, but knowing that she’d best. They stopped for meals while they travelled, but it was things hastily put together from their supplies, and nothing proper.

“I think I remain unconvinced.” Remin laughs softly . “Though, admittedly, you may win me over sooner than later, if only to sate my curiosity. Perhaps we’ll shun an inn entirely tonight and just sleep on the bottom of the carriages? We’ve packed some blankets and pillows away somewhere.”

“Ridiculous, the both of you.” Everbright laughs, just as cheerful and bright as she’d been last night. Gods, did she ever turn off? Was this energy limitless? Perhaps they could harness it somehow and put it to more directed use. “Well, at least your humors are well-suited.”

“Oh, no, we’re entirely serious.” Remin replied, attempting a straight face and half intentionally failing, and half simply not making it. It didn’t seem that Everbright would believe her on that particular bit even if she’d managed it.

“I’m sure you are.” She teases. “You’ll have to write to me, extolling any virtues you find of sleeping on a carriage floor.”

“The letter will span pages.”

“Perhaps I’ll use it for bedding, if I ever do decide to take up our king’s strange habits.” She shakes her head, laughing. "I can only hope that other things are well-suited for the two of you." There it was. They'd not managed to entirely escape. Remin took a bite of her breakfast as they sat at one of the tables - the decorations from the night before still splayed, a little less precisely, across them. There was a burgundy stain across the tablecloth, and Remin doubted it was the only casualty of the evening.

 

[Aerynth]

"No," Cyreia laughed, her worries forgotten for the moment. It seemed that, in some regards, she was as easily distracted as Everbright herself. It wasn't really about that, though. Learning to appreciate small moments of hilarity, even amidst sadness, had gotten her through a lot. "Not the carriage. That would totally ruin the point. I mean, the floor is good for you because it's straight and firm and wide so you have enough space to turn and such. The carriage, though? I can guarantee it would be cramped and terrible. Not a good experience for someone who is still a beginner at... exploring untraditional sleeping habits." Why was she even putting so much thought into it? Probably because it allowed her to forget about other things. The human mind could only focus at so many ideas at once, after all. Cyreia bit into the fruit before continuing.

"You know what would be a good experience, though? Sleeping under the stars. That's actually nice, if you don't mind the bugs at the very least. But I'd protect you. They wouldn't dare to assault you if I threatened them with my sword." The thing was, Cyreia actually kind of liked the idea despite it being a fantasy concocted to please Everbright. The idea of venturing out into the wilderness and spending a night or two there. So far from the civilization, they could do whatever they wanted. Pretend, if only for a while, that they were the only people left in the world. It was silly, of course, and entirely unrealistic, and she didn't even know whether Remin would go along with it. Cyreia could dream, though, couldn't she? The dreams hurt nobody but her.

Lady Everbright's remark, however, interrupted the string of ideas. Cyreia shouldn't be surprised, really, and she wasn't, but... that didn't make it any easier. There was no good way to react. She wouldn't have known how to react even yesterday, when things between them had seemed more unambiguous despite her lies, but today? The truth should have made everything clear, yet it had only plunged them deeper into obscurity. "Ah, well," Cyreia attempted to smile, hoping that her hesitance would be interpreted as... shyness. Unwillingness to share the details born out of desire for privacy rather than sorrow. That would be infinitely more suspicious, at least when taking into account the way she had behaved yesterday. Her love had been so apparent then. Was it even now? "I can only hope so, too," Cyreia said, and it was true. That didn't seem like a dangerous statement to utter in front of Everbright. The woman yearned after romance, after all, and was determined to see their interactions in this light anyway. "Honestly, we're still getting to know each other. It's been what, two weeks?" A little bit of sincerity couldn't hurt, could it? If there was a better way of dodging the unspoken question, Cyreia didn't know it. Remin probably did, but she wasn't Remin.

 

[Conifer]

Admittedly...Sleeping among the stars had some amount of appeal that was probably entirely inappropriate for Remin to find in it. There’s no way it would go quite as storybook perfect as she was imagining it - the weather warm and comfortable, the grass a soft bed, the stars bright and shining, the two of them curled together without a care or thought for anything otherwise. No, with any luck, it would rain, the grass would be damp and sparse, the clouds would chase away any hope of seeing those bright beads of light against the sky, and this newfound strangeness would lead them to finding comfort only in their own presence. And bugs. There would be plenty of bugs. Still...Even then, it had some appeal. Even if things were complicated with their relationship, Remin still held her partner dear. This change didn’t take away the time they’d spent together, or the ways that she’d made Remin feel honestly valuable as a person, and not as a public figure. “Those would have to be some terribly large bugs to be bested by your sword, my soldier. Or an awfully small sword and some skillful wielding of it. Perhaps a microscope.” Or, they’d simply bring some netting.

Thoughts of that, though, were quickly dashed by Lady Everbright’s eagerness to ask just slightly too prying questions. Cyeria’s response only serves to encourage her, but-- at least it will hopefully ruin the chance of other, more prying questions with far more risky answers. “We have a lifetime.” Remin smiles softly, adding her agreement before Everbright can say much to it. “There’s no point in rushing anything, is there?”

“Well-- I suppose not!” Everbright agrees. This all seems to be some sort of game to her. But why would it ever be anything else, Remin supposes. She’s never had need for all of this to be anything but play. Some fantastical story she gets to see play out in front of her. “That’s nearly even /more/ romantic. You two won all the luck from the rest of us, didn’t you?” She teases. “What I wouldn’t do for some handsome soldier to want to court me, and not simply rush into the fun parts.”