Even she had to admit it, springtime in the Bree fields was nothing short of picturesque.
Upon the grassy bank she was strewn amidst the pastel blankets of buttercups and daisies, the very ends of her fingertips gracing softly through the blades of grass. Ashaia exhaled slowly and deeply through her nostrils, eyes momentarily closed as she tuned into the sounds of the lazy afternoon. The rushing water of a distant stream, the whinnies of newborn foals in the next field over, the chirping of faraway birds soaring overhead.
For just a second, the moment was serene. Reminiscent of a passage from one of her books, namely the one laying page-down in her lap. Arin would have liked this moment, she thought fondly to herself.
"You'll fall in love with this place again," came a quiet voice, drawing closer from somewhere behind, "You always do."
Ashaia was reluctant to prise her eyes open but as did so the scene in her head dissipated, for the sight she was met with uplifted her spirits instantaneously. There stood Brienne, her older sister, clutching a very small child in her arms.
"Hello, my darling..." Ashaia smiled at the sight of the little boy as her sister ambled towards her, lowering into the grass and handing off the child into her arms, "Perhaps you're right," Ashaia went on, exchanging a glance with Brienne as she squinted in the sunlight, "It is rather rustic."
The little boy in her arms giggled to himself, yet otherwise sat rather still - an unusual feat given his age. Ashaia peered down at him and the way he busied his hands with a small wooden horse. She smoothed a hand through the dark curls of his hair, his blue eyes transfixed on the toy in his tight little grip.
"Well she's very pretty..." Ashaia muttered to the child, regarding the toy momentarily. He gazed up at her, comprehending the sound of his mother's voice as she spoke. Yet as Ashaia watched him, his rosy cheeks glowing in the beams of the sun. All in a year's work, he had grown so much and the resemblance was uncanny. There was no mistaking the fact that the child had been gifted with a pair of eyes she had grown to know so well because for a sheer moment, the cerulean eyes of his father were peering back at her. Ashaia looked away from them and instead pressed a kiss to her son's head, inhaling the familiar scent of home in amidst the raven waves of his hair.
"This is the calmest I've seen him all day," Brienne remarked, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise.
"It's because he's with me," Ashaia conjured a rather smug grin at her sister, "Astoundingly, he doesn't cry very often. Which is a relief given my first experience with Ava - she was never, ever pleased. Though I suppose she does get that from her mother."
"You're good with him," Brienne produced a small smile at the sight of Ashaia wiggling the small wooden horse before her son's eyes, "It's a shame you don't spend more time with him."
"I know..." Ashaia agreed, her expression lessening in response, "If I wasn't so busy-"
"You don't have to do what you're doing. You could always change your career, do something less...less adventurous."
"That's not a life I could lead."
"You realise that you're not a heroine from one of your books, Ashaia. You're a grown woman, and you should really turn your attention to something more suitable."
"Like what? Selling apples at the market? Brienne, do you really think that I could adapt to that life? Do you?" Ashaia pressed hotly, "That's not who I am, I'm more than that. I know that I'd go downright insane if I did anything mundane."
"Blackmailing nobles out of their fortune? Hunting down criminals with a bounty on their head?"
"Must you put it so literally? That is barely something that I do! More specifically, Brienne, I am an advisor. I advise people to make decisions. And I apologise if that means a lot of paperwork comes with it too."
Brienne scoffed. "An advisor...and what about your son in all this, hm? Does Arthur really deserve to miss out on having a mother as well as a father?"
It grew quiet after Brienne had spoken, her words permeating the perfect sunlight in a vast plume of black smoke. Ashaia said nothing at first, swallowing sharply and gazing down at the child. As she peered back up at her sister, she shook her head slowly.
"I am doing the best I can," She said quietly.
"Well, perhaps you're not doing enough," Brienne countered, "I should take him, it's almost time for his nap." Ashaia allowed her to take her son wordlessly, to which Brienne scooped him up in her arms and rose to her feet. With one last glance towards her sister, Brienne said, "Rearranging your priorities would be a good place to start."
And with that, she stalked away, the little boy gazing over her shoulder towards where his mother still sat in the grass, observing as they departed. Without even realising it, Arthur had dropped the wooden horse to the ground and Ashaia took the liberty of clambering onto her own feet and wandering over to retrieve it. She stared at it laying in her palm, before furling her fingers around it and holding it to her chest.
