With winter approaching even here in Valentia, the warmth of summer was fading to the cooler climes of the winter months, though here they were never without sunshine. Still, it was a relief to know that winter was here, that Lotharingia was unlikely to launch any attack on them in these unseasonal months. Sasha was even more relieved to know that her husband was returning from his summer of border guarding and reinforcing, the commander of the armies allowed to return home to his wife for the winter ahead.

It was dusk by the time the Commander of the King's Army made his return to Valentia's capital. The setting sun cast its light on the mountains turning them a light shade of purple, while the buildings looked orange in the waning light of day. Idris' heart soared to be home at last after a long summer away ensuring their borders were safe. He kicked his horse into a gallop, eager to reach the palace and be reunited with those he loved.

The trumpets sounded to herald the return of the commander and the army, the gates of the palace opening easily before him to welcome him home. Lads rushed to take charge of his horse, bowing respectfully before him as the doors to the palace itself were opened and a familiar, bearded friend charged out to embrace the commander cheerfully. "Idris! You're not dead!"

Idris dismounted quickly, leaving the horse in the care of the boys who would take him to the stables and care for his needs. Both man and beast were weary from the journey and in need of rest and relaxation. The commander's beard had grown longer while he'd been away, his clothing covered in dust, but the crinkles at the corners of his eye gave away the smile hidden behind that beard at the strange welcome he received from his friend.

"No I am not dead," he echoed, with a chuckle. "Should I be?"

Ezra chuckled again, patting his friend on the shoulder as he stepped back. "I do not think this palace would survive the news of your death," he said in amusement. "I am not entirely sure even Osman and Zahra could console your wife if you did not come home."

"Miss me, did she?" Idris asked, teeth gleaming in a grin, despite the tangled beard and grime that covered his face. He knew his appearance made him look worse than he felt, but he'd been too eager for home to bother bathing and grooming before arriving.

"She has had her moments of being hell to live with, I am reliably informed," Ezra informed him cheerfully, drawing his friend into the palace. "The babies helped for a while, but she's been very worried about you. I could be wrong, but I think you may have tamed the wild woman of the harem."

Though Idris did not say so, he had missed his wife, too. Men and horses might be companionable enough, but they were no substitute for the company of a soft, lovely woman. Idris laughed at his friend's remark. "Ha! I will believe that when I see it. Before I left, she was still insisting I best her in combat."

"Nasir gave her permission to spar with the royal bodyguard," Ezra told him with a short laugh. "Their training regimen became quite a bit more strenuous a few days after that started. I do believe your wife beat a couple of them bloody."

Idris arched a brow at his friend's claim. Though he did not doubt Sasha's skill in combat, he did not think any man who called himself a soldier should allow himself to be beaten by a woman, unless it was done on purpose. Still, Sasha was like no woman he had ever met before, and he was only one of few who knew why. "If they have gone soft guarding the palace, they will find I am not such an easy taskmaster."

"I think you have your wife to thank for the fact that any softness they might have had has been trained out of them in the past months," Ezra assured him. It had been very funny to watch the reaction of seasoned soldiers to their defeat by a woman who insisted on wearing a skirt to fight.

"I trust she was not harmed," Idris said, a question implied in his statement, walking along beside his friend as they entered the palace. As much as he thought his men weak for letting a woman defeat them, he would have been even more enraged had she been hurt.

"I have heard nothing of any injury, and you can be certain if she had been hurt, Teres would have ripped my ears off to get me to put some kind of punishment in place for it," was Ezra's reassuring answer. As chancellor, he was in charge of all goings on within the palace, and therefore, in Idris' absence, the guards technically reported to him.

"If she was not a woman, I might make her my second in command," Idris said, though that was unlikely to happen. Women did not train to become soldiers in Valentia the way they did in some of the other nations on the continent.

"Does she know that?" his friend asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow. He had a feeling that Sasha would respond very favourably to knowing that her husband had that much faith in her abilities.

Idris chuckled. "Of course not. If she knew, she would insist on me doing so, and that might very well start a rebellion." There had been a time when he had not thought women capable of fighting as well as men, and though Sasha had changed his mind, he still did not like the idea of women partaking in battle.

"I seem to recall her offering to take your head off with the king's own sword at my wedding," Ezra mused with impish nostalgia. At the time, it had been alarming, but in retrospect, it was one of the most hilarious meetings of an ordained to be wed couple he had ever witnessed.

Idris chuckled and shrugged. "She loves me," he said, as if that excused or caused her behavior. It was in good part Sasha's fire that had drawn him to her. While other men preferred a docile woman, Sasha kept him on his toes.

"That she does," Ezra agreed, steering their steps toward the harem. In the past months since the new queen's coronation, the harem was no longer completely closed to men. Men of a certain rank - married men - were welcome within, provided they behaved in a proper manner, and as such, the women within were beginning to learn and recognize political maneuvering within their own households.

Idris didn't bother to ask if his wife had shown an interest in any other men; the very idea was absurd, not to mention forbidden. She belonged to him now, just as he belonged to her. His smile faded momentarily, wondering if he should have made himself more presentable before coming here, but he was too eager to see her. A bath would just have to wait.

Sasha was not exactly presentable herself. She was drenched, half-sitting in the fountain of the women’s' courtyard with two six-month-old babies, splashing and laughing under the amused eye of the two mothers sat nearby.

"How disappointing," Safiya teased, looking up at Nasir. "You should probably command them to do that."

Sasha rolled her eyes, reaching over to prod her friend and queen. "You do vacant idiocy a little too well, Safi."

"And it is completely unnecessary among friends," Teres interjected, as she possessively took Ezra's arm, as though she was claiming him for her own.

"You do smell a bit ripe, Idris," Nasir remarked, wrinkling his nose. "Perhaps you should have a bath and get some rest, and we'll reconvene tomorrow."

"I will make certain he is presentable tomorrow, majesty," Sasha promised, squeezing her arm about Idris' waist as much in promise to him as to herself.

"I am sure he will be in good hands with you, Sasha," Nasir agreed with a knowing grin. "Welcome home, my friend. We will talk tomorrow," he told the commander.

"Thank you, majesty," Idris replied. "It is good to be home."

Little Osman was watching Idris wide-eyed, comfortable with the newcomer in his circle only because the adults he loved and trusted were so happy to see him themselves. The infant clung to his father's shoulder, sucking on his fingers as the friends teased and chatted together.

Sasha winked at the little boy before speaking again. "Permission to half-drown the commander, your majesty?"

"Permission granted," Nasir replied without hesitation, an amused grin on his face. "I will leave you to it then," he said, looking to Safi, little Osman on his hip. "Shall we" The little prince is looking like it's time for his nap."

"Thank you, majesty."

With a grin for their friends, Sasha took a firm hold on Idris' hand and began to march out of the harem courtyard, heading for the doorway to the palace proper and their own quarters, with laughter following them from their brief companions.

Once they were out of earshot of their friends, Idris couldn't help but turn his grin on Sasha as she led him away. "Did you miss me?" he asked, though that much seemed obvious.

"Perhaps a little," she said, not wanting the women they passed to hear her admit to having missed her husband with a deep aching pain.

"Ah, well ....You will simply have to put up with me until I am due to go on patrol again," he told her, trying to keep the teasing tone out of his voice. If the way she'd pounced him was anything to go by, she had missed him more than she was willing to admit.

"And the first thing you are going to do is wash yourself and let me trim that rats' nest you are currently calling a beard," she informed him. As the harem door was left behind them, her pace seemed to quicken, until she was only just holding herself back from running all the way to the quarters she had been lonely in for too long.

"As far as I can tell, there are no rats nesting in my beard," he said, unable to hide the smirk from his face, if she could see it beneath all the hair on his face. "In a hurry, wife?" he asked, purposely dragging his feet, just to irk her.

She stuttered to a halt as he called her on her impatience, turning to face him in the corridor. "Is it so bad if I am?" she asked, almost sweetly vulnerable in that moment. "I have missed you, Idris."

He slid his arms around her waist to draw her close, not really caring if anyone was watching. They were husband and wife, after all, and he had missed her more than words could say. "I have missed you, too, Sasha," he told her again, his voice softening, though the kiss he pressed to her lips was anything but soft. Hungry and needy, that kiss spoke of his desire.

His kiss drew a soft sound of echoed need from her throat as her arms curled about his shoulders, teasing fingers into his hair as she pressed close. It was a world away from the shy, reserved Sasha he had left behind him over half a year before.

He wasn't sure what had come over her since he'd been gone, but he was not about to question it. Had she really missed him as much as she seemed to' Was she finally ready to become his wife in every way' He couldn't deny the way his body reacted to her - the way his body had always reacted to her - nor could he deny the seemed to melt into his arms and groan against his lips.

"Let us go home," he whispered against her lips.

"We are almost there," she murmured back to him, though she was deeply reluctant to pull away even for a few moments. But Sasha was nothing if not stern of will, forcing herself to draw away, showing off flushed cheeks and stormy eyes as she claimed his hand once again to pull him along the corridor to their own door.

He was sorely tempted to toss her over his shoulders and have his way with her, no matter how much she might protest, but he did not want a reluctant wife, but one who wanted him as much as he wanted her. "Lead on," he told her, letting her go just long enough to get them safely inside their quarters.

Despite her impatience, his wife did seem fairly determined to get him into the warm bath set into the floor of their bathing chamber, continuing to walk with purpose even after the door to their apartments closed in their wake.

"Do I really smell that bad?" Idris asked, clearly amused at the way his wife seemed insistent on him taking a bath. He knew he was sweaty and dusty from the journey home, but he couldn't help but tease her.

"Yes, you do," she informed him, tugging him into the bathing chamber. Once he was in there with her, she turned back, her hands pulling his belt and sash undone to begin disrobing him with a secretive promise in her eyes.

"Are you sure you can handle this, Sasha?" Idris teased her. "Or would you prefer I call for a servant." He couldn't help the smirk that kept appearing on his face. This was a side of Sasha he had not seen before.

She raised a brow above a smirk of her own, daring him to do just that, even as the belt and sash came free, tossed to one side before her fingers began to undo the fastenings of his travel coat and the shirt beneath. "Would you really rather have a servant strip you for me?"

He froze in place a moment, a look of shock on his face at her question. "Whores" No. Why would I want a whore?" he said, his fingers clumsily grappling with the lacing of her undergown. "I cannot get this damnable thing untied!"

She laughed, delighted by his shocked expression, rising up onto her toes to kiss him as a reward for that reply. His frustration with her clothing, however, simply brought a fresh laugh from her lips, even as her fingers deftly relieved him of every last stitch he wore.

Now that he was as naked as the day he was born, he could no longer hide his body's desire for her, frowning in frustration where her dress was concerned, even as she laughed. "I will start the bath," he said, turning to do just that.

As he turned away, it was too tempting to stroke her fingers down over the smooth muscles of his back and backside, ending with a gentle pat to his rear end. "And you just gave up," she teased softly. "What a warrior." Giggling to herself, she turned away herself, her hands swiftly loosening the laces at her back.

He glanced over his shoulder at her as she patted his rear, a smirk on his face. "A true warrior knows when not to fight," he told her. He got the water running, while she finished changing out of her clothes, peeking over his shoulder again to watch her.

She was not ashamed of her bare form, nor shy when it was uncovered, pausing just long enough to unpin her hair from the ornate coil it was up in before turning back toward the bath. "Tsk, tsk, spying on an unclothed woman. Whatever shall I do with you?"

"I am not spying. You are my wife, and as such, it is my prerogative to admire you as much as I desire," he pointed out, knowing she might balk at that. She was not like other women, but it was that fiery spirit that had first drawn him to her.

"Your right, is it?" she asked, brows raised as she laid her hands on her hips. Her whole posture was a challenge, but where it had once been a dare, now it was an invitation.

"My prerogative," he corrected, unable to keep the smirk from his face. The fact that the word meant almost the same thing was a minor detail, in his opinion. "Would you not say the same for me?" he asked, turning around to mirror her pose, both of them looking ridiculous.

She took her time in looking at him, possibly for the first time, letting her eyes skim downward over his long limbs and exposed desire. Her lips twitched toward a smirk before she looked back at him. "If I have any rights at all, I would rather they were to touch than simply to look."

"Of course, you have rights," he told her with a huff of breath. "You are my wife, are you not?" It seemed as far as he was concerned, she had just as much right to look and touch as he did. It was only fair, after all.

"You are remarkably easy to tease, commander," she told him, letting her hands drop to her sides with a crinkly eyed smile, slipping by to check the water.

"Is that a bad thing, wife?" he asked, following her with his eyes as she moved past. He was sorely tempted to grab hold of her and have his way with her, but the bath was almost ready, and he thought he might as well kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

"Not for me." She looked at him over her shoulder, the rare burnished gold of her hair falling across her back as she smiled. "You are displaying a surprising amount of restraint for a man who almost declared war on my clothing."

"Would you rather I force myself on you?" he asked, though he wasn't sure just how much forcing he'd have to do. "Isn't the bloody bath ready yet?" he grumbled, purposely changing the subject.

Sasha laughed again, truly delighted with him and all his reactions to her now that she was no longer afraid of what they might mean. She stepped down into the warm water, turning to him with one outstretched hand. "Won't you join me, sevgili?"

"I would like nothing better," he replied, taking her hand, the edge in his voice softening at her request. He was not very graceful as he stepped into the bath, water sloshing around them. A sly smile crept onto his face, just as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her down into the bath with him.

She gasped softly as he drew her close against him, the press of his skin to hers still a sweet shock despite her longing for it. Her own hands smoothed up and over his arms, onto his shoulders, her eyes looking into his. "Welcome home."

He smiled as he met her gaze, his hands moving languidly over her hips. She had already welcomed him home once, but he had far more than words in mind. "Show me," he told her, dark eyes bright with amusement.

She raised a brow, echoing his amusement in her own gaze. "I wonder, though, have you earned such a demonstration?" she asked playfully. "You come to me filthy and expect me to show you everything?"

"And here I thought you missed me," he said, feigning a pout. He was having just as much fun teasing her as she was teasing him, but the teasing could only go on so long before one or both of them grew tired of it.

"You were the one who missed me first," she pointed out, her reserves of patience renewed now she had seen every inch and knew he had returned to her whole and unharmed. She began to turn away, reaching for the soap.

He spread his arms and leaned back against the bath to relax, as she reached for the soap, assuming she was going to bathe him, as she had alluded to earlier. "I do not deny that I missed you," he said, pausing a moment before adding, "I dreamed of you every night."

"I dread to think what I was doing in your dreams," she said with a low laugh, moving to begin lathering the soap over his skin, taking her time to gently rub away the worked in dirt of the road from his flesh. "Not nightmares, I hope."

He arched a brow at her remark. "Not nightmares, no. What would make you say that?" he asked, curiously. He couldn't remember having any nightmares, where she was concerned. His dreams of her had sometimes been all that had kept him going through the long nights and ever longer days.

And he knew when she had reached her limit. He knew her in ways no one else ever had, or ever would. She had let him deep into her heart and soul, without truly realizing it, and this was the reward - a blissful explosion of shared pleasure that wrapped them both in shaking ecstasy.

"Sasha, Sasha," he whispered, as he went up and over the pinnacle of pleasure, hoping he carried her with him. "I love you," he told her quietly, perhaps for the first time. He wasn't sure what it was that made him say it right then, but he had never felt closer to her than he did at that moment, as though they were one in body, mind, and soul.

Her answer was a simple cry, an eruption of sound far louder, deeper, more longing and loving than he had ever heard from her lips, her arms clinging to him as the world narrowed down to this moment, to him. And even after, as her senses returned and she found herself staring into his eyes, Sasha was overwhelmed by that newfound connection. "I-I love you."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back at her, a soft smile, warm and loving. "As I love you," he repeated, brushing her hair back from her face. He seemed as much in wonder of her as she was of him, only realizing in this moment the truth of his words.

"I am sorry I made you wait," she apologized, laughing at herself for this terrible timing in offering up that apology. "I love you, Idris." She kissed him tenderly. "I missed you. Not just this closeness, but you. I missed you being grumpy in the mornings, and having to be dragged home for meals, and arguing with you over stupid things. I missed being around you."

His smile softened, touched by her confession. "I missed you, too. He told her. I missed the way you argue with me over nothing. And the way you steal the blankets, but then curl up against me in the middle of the night. I missed the way you insist you are just as worthy as any man with a blade. I missed you, Sasha. There is no other woman quite like you."

"And you are sure you would not rather have a passionate, obedient wife like Merrim?" she asked, her eyes wicked with that tease, lips curving in a smile to match.

He chuckled at that, sliding his arms around her again to hold her close against his chest. "I am sure. I want no one but you," he assured her, kissing the top of her head.

She nestled into his arms affectionately. "And what if we have just created someone else?" she asked softly. "Would you want them?"

"Someone else?" he echoed, looking a little confused for a moment before he realized what she meant. "Oh, you mean a child." His smiled returned, a reassuring sign. "I would like us to have children someday, when the goddess allows."

"So would I," she whispered. He might have noticed that wish in her eyes when he'd found her playing with the prince and his best friend in the fountain earlier that day.

"I saw the way you were playing with the children," he told her. He had been far too eager to see her to pay the children much heed, but he would make up for that soon enough.

She laughed softly. "I enjoy them," she admitted. "They expect so little of me, and giving up my energy for them allows Safi and Teres to relax a little at the mid-point of the day."

"I am sure you would enjoy one of your own," he told her, dark eyes warm with affection. Would he be disappointed if she were to become pregnant' No, just the opposite.

"I cannot deny that I would," she agreed softly. "It is not a role I ever considered myself in, but ....I would be very proud to bear your children, askim."

"Yes, but ....I do not want you to have children just for my sake," he told her, a little confused. Did she want to have children because it was something she was proud to do or because she wanted children"

"I never truly considered it," she said quietly, her fingers gently stroking through his beard as she spoke. "When I thought I would be a concubine, I despised the thought of bringing a child into the world. And I did not want to bear the children of a man who married me only because he was ordered to. But with you ....I would like to have children, to raise them with the love we share."

His beard had grown a bit wild while he'd been away, and it was more than a bit tangled, but he was far too vain to leave it that way for long, now that he was home. His smile softened, her words touching his heart. "I never thought much about having children either, but I would like us to have a family together."

"Then we shall," she said, meeting his eyes with a tender smile. "Whenever the Goddess decides we are ready." And perhaps having a child to love when he was away would make those absences easier, on her at the very least.

"Yes, but I do not need the Goddess to tell us that the bath is getting cold," he said, a flash of teeth in a smirk behind the beard. "Shall we?"

"I have yet to wash your hair," she pointed out, but his comment had galvanized her into action, reaching for the jug and the soap to make the most of having him captive beneath her for a moment.

"But the water is ..." he started, trailing off as she dumped a jug of water over his head, soaking his hair and face and beard. "....cold," he spluttered.

She grinned at him as he spluttered. "I'll be quick," she promised, massaging the soap through his hair and beard to wash away the grime and grease of his travels.

"Is it that bad?" he asked of his own appearance. He knew he was grimy and sweaty from the journey, but he'd been in a hurry to get home. He had missed her more than even he cared to admit.

"I would not call it bad," she assured him. "But you did not look your best." She kissed the tip of his nose. "Close your eyes, and I will wash the soap out."

"As you say, wife," he told her, obediently closing his eyes so that she could drown him in cold water a second time. Of course, he'd had far worse. He'd been bathing in rivers and streams while he'd been on patrol, and that water was far colder than this.