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It started as a warm day in the Rift, the sun high in the sky. The trees bursting with oranges and yellows caused a cascade of leaves to fall around where Lyssandra sat. She was tucked against a rock with a book in her hand and a bag of snacks next to her. She had spent the afternoon here, but perhaps the best part of this ordeal was the scholar currently sleeping on her thighs. Reading to him proved to be an easy way to get him to fall asleep. Running her fingers through his hair also sped up the process.
Had Lucien weighed more than about two feathers and a sweet roll, her legs would definitely be numb. He’d only been asleep for an hour or so, but as she looked out over the horizon she could see a bare trickle of storm clouds rolling in. Lyssandra sighed to herself and put her book in the bag with the snacks. It took some maneuvering to not wake up her lover, but she was able to put on her backpack and pick him up without disturbing him.
On the walk home, she was careful to walk slowly. Lucien’s snores were a pretty good indicator that he still rested within the realm of dreams. Making it back to honeyside was a bit of a task, but she had fought countless enemies worse than noisy neighbors. The storm had just started when she opened the door with her foot(she had to use a bit of magic to get the key in the lock, her hands were a bit full). She placed Lucien under the covers, going over to the kitchen to prepare some dinner for later.
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He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, really. Lyssandra’s voice was just so nice and her fingers in his hair didn’t help. It wasn’t his fault, not really. He honestly expected to wake up when his head inevitably made contact with the ground when she got up. He didn’t expect to wake up in a bed in her house in Riften. There was something being cooked and the fire was lit, his head buried in the many furs covering her bed. Lucien had half a mind not to get up and just stay buried in the warmth.
He shifted around a bit to get comfortable then closed his eyes again, content to just listen to the sounds of the house. He laid there for maybe ten minutes or so when a hand pushes his hair from his eyes.
“Wake up, dii sil , I’ve made dinner.”
Cracking open one eye to look up at her, he smiled.
“Five more minutes?” He asked.
Lyssandra’s laugh was a warm and mirthful thing. Proud as he was to have drawn it from her, he didn’t object when she stuck her arms under the covers to pick him up out of bed.
“Dinner will be cold when you stop asking for ‘five more minutes’,” She said, setting him down in one of the dining chairs.
She brought out several plates and cups. He was always amazed by the amount of food she always seemed to be able to procure. She mentioned offhandedly once that Bosmeri customs made sure she could provide for those she cared about. He, of course, had gone red in the face, insisting she didn’t need to take care of him so.
The two ate in comfortable silence, the crackles of the fire and rain being the only sounds to occupy the space.
Yes, he thinks, this is the life.
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The storm had nearly passed when the two finally went to bed last night. When morning came, sunlight drifting in through the windows, they were still fast asleep in one another’s arms.
Perfection meant different things depending on who you asked. But, for the two of them, this was as close to perfection as anyone could get.