Tea Leaves
The fireplace crackled comfortably as silence fell over the room, the remains of dinner cleaned up and put away. A kettle was put on, slowly coming to a boil as Ariquar sat down once more, running a hand through his hair, ruffled now out of its usual bun. Across from him, his sister sat, watching the kettle with the same concentration he remembered from their schooldays.
“So, Fae,” Ariquar started, “I never actually got a chance to ask.”
Her eyes darted to look at him, and then back at the kettle. She knew what he was curious about. She had a few things on her mind, as well, with how much they’d both changed.
“Father never said anything, did he?” She said, laughter in her voice. Ariquar shook his head, resting his hands on the table. His fingers crossed over each other, clasping his hands together as he fidgeted.
“No, he just said you and mother would be visiting. That was all. At first I thought he’d said your name wrong because, well.” Ariquar raised a brow at her, and Faewen waved a hand.
“Just because he’s never around doesn’t mean he’s forgotten our names, Ari.” She said, and Ariquar found himself rolling his eyes.
“It feels like it - he only ever calls me ‘son’ these days.”
“Now, that’s just because he’s pissed you’re not following the Dominion anymore.”
“I suppose. I’m surprised he hasn’t forced me back to Summerset yet.” Ariquar said, leaning back in his chair.
“He won’t. He won’t admit it, but he’s starting to doubt himself because of you. Whether or not he shows that within the next twenty years…” Faewen explained, spreading her hand open as she waved it, dismissing the thought. “Anyway, if I tell you this, you better tell me whatever I ask about.”
Ariquar huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Fine.”
“Same pouty face as when we were kids.” Faewen laughed, and despite his feigned stubbornness, Ariquar found himself laughing, too.
“Well, I was with mother about a month after you’d left, and we were … gathering tools for one of her lower level classes. We passed by a shop displaying a gown, and … I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it.” Faewen leaned back, tapping her finger against her chin.
“Let me guess,” Ariquar said, leaning onto one arm, propped onto the table, “Mother got impatient?”
Faewen made a noise of affirmation, nodding.
“Of course she did. She saw me staring and told me to stop wasting time, and that if I was going to stare for so long, to simply buy it, and I did.” She turned her gaze toward the kettle once more, watching the steam slowly drifting upward. “I took it home, put it on, and that was … that was that, really. Mother fussed over the neckline and started giving me lessons in etiquette.”
“It was that quick?” Ariquar asked, his brows furrowing. “You just … Knew?”
"I think in the back of my mind I always knew. But I was so focused on trying to be better than you that I never thought to look at myself for who I was. I just… So badly wanted to be better than you at something, so I never put aside time for myself."
“Gods,” Ariquar said, once again running a hand through his hair. This time, it fell halfway in front of his face. “Now I feel like an asshole.”
“To be fair, we were both assholes to each other back then.” Faewen smiled, and Ariquar saw a genuine happiness over her features that he’d never seen before - all the time they’d grown up together, and not once had he ever truly wondered what his sister was feeling.
He had a lot to make up for, didn’t he?
“But now we don’t have to be,” Ariquar said, and she nodded.
“We’ve both grown up, I think we can afford to be a bit more mature, hm?” As she spoke, the kettle began to shriek, and Ariquar hopped up from his place quick enough that he bumped the table. Faewen laughed at him, but he didn’t mind. He took the tea from the pack she’d brought along, dumping the leaves into the wooden mugs from atop his mantle.
As it steeped, he breathed in the scent, floral and earthy, and for the first time in years, he felt homesick.
The leaves settled to the bottom of the mug and the steam clouded his vision. It smelled of Summerset, and suddenly he was a young boy again, running near the coast while his mother shouted at him to slow down. Fae, back then, chasing after him drenched in saltwater, shouted at him as well - but those words weren’t quite so kind.
“Ari?” Faewen said, and he broke from his memory.
“Yes?” He said, his vision readjusting to the view of his home. The orange of the firelight made the room feel warm, comfortable. Outside, night had fallen, and the luna moths outside the window fluttered, desperate for the lanterns beyond the glass.
“I think I heard your husband come home. Might want to make him a cup, too.” Faewen said, leaning onto her closed fist. Ariquar looked from her to the connected room, where the sound of shuffling and buckles was evident.
“Good idea.” Ariquar said, and pulled another of his mugs from the mantle. As he poured the water over the leaves in that mug, Teldryn shuffled into the kitchen.
The homesick feeling receded as he watched Teldryn drop into the chair beside Faewen to chatter to her, and Ariquar realised he didn’t need to feel homesick, not anymore.