“Avie-- Avie, did I miss a memo or something?” Kalyanar wandered into breakfast bleary eyed and late as usual, rubbing at his face in the hopes of chasing away his morning grogginess. Avie was already up, sat in the private dining quarters of Alqamar and nursing a very tiny, very new baby at her breast.

“No, dalah’surfal, why do you ask?”

“The smell of cakes and pies are absolutely everywhere. The whole place smells like a bakery.”

Avie chuckled softly as her husband came to join her at the table, cheeks warming with affection as he pressed a kiss to her crown. Whilst he got seated she took a moment to fuss over her nursing child and the pair of them shared a love-struck look in silence. Their baby. She was perfect.

“We’re sending gifts of baked goods down to the city to celebrate a healthy baby.”“What?”“The smell. That’s why.”

Kalyanar made a face of understanding and quiet ‘aaaah’ under his breath, tearing his gaze from his daughter with no small amount of reluctance as he reached for the teapot.

“Well, it’s certainly a delightful way to wake up.”

Dream Psst: Three things that they’ve always wanted to tell your character. (Avie on Kalyanar)

I love you.

You made me see my own worth and made me believe I could be more than what I was.

You are the only person I will ever let this close to me.

Want: Three things they would do to your character if they were alone. (Maaike on Iiloridan)

Introduce to arcwine- the real stuff.

Find out how sin’dorei smooch.

[musical accompaniment]

“...I want you- and I want to know you.”

Kalyanar’s voice was barely a whisper, low as he met her eyes. Not a trace of doubt on his face, or in his tone. Trembling fingers curled around his neck into deep red hair, a moment of hesitation before she leant in, lips barely touching his in seeking, asking brushes. Every single piece of her was his, her heavens and oceans laid bare for him to see. He treated her so softly, his touch cool against the flush on her skin and taught her things she had never known to exist. His gravity was all consuming, his every kiss pulling her further under.

“You have me.”

The darkness then had been intimate, the words on his breath drawing them closer together until they were flush. Neither of them had had the courage to put the feeling between them to words then and they had gone unspoken.

The darkness now was terrifying; within it it illuminated all her doubts, her fears. She missed the sight of his bright green eyes, of his handsome face and the smattering of freckles over his nose. The way he looked at her with things they couldn’t yet say. Things she would never see again.

Like fire in a rainstorm she endures. Against pain and fear Metal and Claws She digs in her heel And she endures.

Like saplings in the earth she grows. Against all she knows Memories and monsters She opens her heart And she grows.

A sister piece to this one by @edaigoa.

Avie had not yet returned home to her husband and children, she had instead taken to a quiet corner of the grounds. She sat under a gazebo, the sun hung low in the sky and shone through the willow leaves. Before her on the glass table a small, leather bound journal lay open and in her fingers a quill of the finest quality - a gift from Kalyanar, made by his own hands, as all her quills now were.

“...I am glad of Kalyanar’s attention to detail, if it wasn’t for his close scrutiny of our records this scam would likely have gone unnoticed for many more moons. I am not, however, glad of the action his discovery has required me to take. It is distasteful enough when I am required by the state or Sunguard to perform less than savoury tasks, but against my own people leaves a far more bitter taste on my tongue.

I had suspected for a long time that our dear Harbourmaster was still loyal to my father - if not his cruel ways at least - but I had little evidence to prove it and thus I could not remove him from his position without casting doubt over my own clarity. He was one of but a handful still left from Caemenas’s rule. I can never be sure if the few remaining can ever be trusted but I shall keep them within arms reach and under closer watch after this.

His body, what is left of it, shall be removed from the isle and sent to the bottom of the sea where the Mother Sun cannot reach him. I will not have the soul of a traitor upon my lands. I will see to it in the morning that his family are informed myself, I owe them that much when his life came to an end under my hands.

On the subject of blood magic, I am cautious of Ahani’s apparent proficiency at it. I suspect her grandmother will suggest she begins training in earnest soon and I fear that Kalyanar will be all too agreeable to the idea. Si’iohema means well but I am not sure I want my daughter to commit to such a...delicate art at so young an age. I would rather she receives training in arcane or frost or fire first and masters control of an element less punishing than blood or flesh whilst she is still a child.

Her sister is yet to show any obvious affinity for the magical arts, though she is still only seven and has time yet to flourish. Of course, there are a great number of other things in this life she could pursue, I wish only for my children to have the freedom to choose in life and to be happy. Where-ever she ends up, I will be proud of her. And of course, their brother is growing at the rate of knots; our third child and I am still surprised by how quickly they grow.

I left him with his father alone for the first time today. Old fears rose in the back of my mind briefly, I hate myself for them. Kalyanar understands but I can see that it hurts him. I hope that this time he could not see them as they briefly haunted my mind. He is a wonderful father, and husband, and more than I could ever ask for. Bad memories aside, I was glad to be able to get back to my own training; since becoming a mage it has been easy to forget my roots but nothing will ever replace the feel of my glaive and shield - and Bella would never forgive me if I retired from them.”

“Minn’da!” The voice of a young girl carried across the grounds, Ahani stood just in sight of the cobbled patios. Avie looked up and sighed, closing over the little journal, but smiled to herself as she gathered it and her quill and stood.

It was her own doing that she found herself in the middle of this mess she had created. Hindsight was a wonderful thing. At the time it had seemed harmless, nothing more than entertainment on a cold, snowy mountain and the promise that when they returned home they wouldn’t do it again. Yet for eight solid months they’d carried on, hiding and meeting in secret on nights when Iiloridan wasn’t home. Si’iohema had been understanding, happy even, to see her grandson finally move past his haunted past. Iiloridan had not.

Even though they were forgiven for their lies, she could still see the look of caution her best friend had. The way he would briefly, ever so briefly, frown upon catching them curled up together. “This is not you, Avie,” he had said, “you don’t do long-term. What happens when you get bored or scared?” She wouldn’t, she had tried to assure him even has she left for the arms of another.

Kalyanar had known what she was like this whole time, and yet she caught the backwards slope of his ears and jealous look in his green eyes every time Ithanar was near. Another mess of her own making; she had never meant to fall in love. Caught between the intensity of what she felt for him and the confusing feeling that she didn’t want to let Ithanar go. She knew she was far fonder of the warrior than she should have been. It hurt to think about.

Avie cast white eyes tinged with the faintest purple down at the sleeping figure beside her. Glimpses of him reached her through her blinded world, mostly the dim light of his dormant tattoos but a fuzzy image of long, curly hair or lean frame here and there. She reached to gently card her hand through his curls before sighing gently and tugging his shoulder. Without complaint, Kalyanar rolled over with a sleepy ‘mrrhhh?’ and opened his arms to her. She laid her head upon his chest, the warmth in her own beyond what simple comfort would have stirred. Her mind had been made up months ago, in a stable with the barest confessions of something more on their lips.