It didn’t take much from Romilly to send Simon flying home. He knew that she didn’t exploit this response, that she respected the importance and integrity fo his work, and for that he was grateful. So when Romilly called, he knew it was important. And anything that was important to her was of the utmost importance to him.

Simon wrapped up matters at the palace, leaving some additional items on @mara’s plate, then made straight away for the Red Citadel. The air smelled different there. It seemed cleaner, opening up the lungs and quieting the mind. As they drew closer, taking the familiar widing path to its doors, Simon’s heart beat faster at the prospect of being reunited with his wife again.

The carriage rolled to a halt in front of the entry, and Simon immediately stooped to exit the carriage. He hoped she’d be there to meet him, and reached out his hand, waiting for the familiar scent of almonds and vanilla to drift his way on the breeze.

She had been waiting for him, sitting in the front room of their estate while the children played, glancing out the window every few moments to see if she saw that familiar carriage coming up to the doors. Yet time was a cruel thing, dragging it out until she was bouncing her foot as she played the piano that sat in front of the window.

Suddenly, Marius looked up, staring at the wall and then a giant grin filled his face. “Papa!” The boy was scrambling to his feet and he ran for the front door. The two smaller ones burst into a fit of laughter and ran after their older brother. Romilly was quick to be behind them, doing her best to not run outside of the house but unable to help the swiftness in her steps. Even though there was matters to discuss… she had missed Simon.

But as the children burst through the doors, a laugh left the duchess as they would be the first to reach for their father’s hand and the littlest of the three even climbed inside the carriage and wrapped their little arms around Simon. “Papa!” They all seemed to buzz with excitement, talking (and babbling) happily to him all at once. “Let your father breathe,” her voice was soft but all of the children settled when she spoke. Finally reaching her hand for Simon’s to help him out of the carriage with guidance.

The sound of his children’s voices transformed him. Any tension he’d been holding immediately melted away. His hands reached for them as they tumbled about, grabbing and buzzing, almost pulling him over. It was then he felt Romilly’s gentle, guiding hand. He squeezed it, stepping down from the carriage with his children clinging to him.

Simon felt for their faces, each reaching up to guide him to where they were. He ruffled hair and pinched cheeks, fielding ever enthusiastic questions and observations before turning to Romilly. “Milly,” He’d feel for her face too, cupping her cheek in his hand and kissing her. “It’s good to be home.”

Pip, who knew all too well she was Simon’s weakness, was already whining to be picked up. Simon, being the pushover that he was, did, linking his arm through his wife’s and carrying Pip in the other.

Romilly watched the scene before her, all three of them so happy to see their father, not once moving to stop them. How could she? This was what she wanted, their family together and full of love and happiness. Isn't that what every mother wanted? She certainly thought so.

The moment Simon reached for her, she was guiding his hand to her face. It had been far too long since he had been home and she found herself leaning further into his palm than normal. "You've been gone for far too long." She spoke in that gentle voice of hers before the littlest one was reaching for Simon. Demanding to be held and yet Simon didn't deny her, lifting her high up and then reaching for Milly. They worked almost in unison now, knowing exactly how they moved best together, even with children.

They'd get inside their home, the boys both chattering quickly about their recent lessons to their father and projects they were working on or stories that they had recently heard and were (struggling) to retell to him. Pip was content to touch Simon's beard and laugh when it tickled her fingertips. "Why don't you three go get washed up and ready for dinner?" She suggested after a moment, raising her free hand and brushing back a piece of dark hair behind her ear. "Then you can each take turns telling Papa about your day," she gently nudged them all in the direction of their rooms, taking Pip and placing her on the floor to toddle off with her brother's holding each of her hands.

"And for us, let's also go refresh," She patted his chest with a light tapping of her fingers before she'd start their walk towards their bedroom.

Simon responded to the jumbled stories by chuckling and nodding and ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘ahh-ing’ where it seemed appropriate. He was grateful when Romilly took Pip from his arms and sent the boys off to wash. He was tired from the journey, and more than anything, he’d been starved of his wife’s company for too long.

“Yes. Let’s.” His voice hummed in his chest as he kissed her, letting her lead them to their bedroom. Once the door clicked close behind them, Simon would pull her close and wrap his arms around her.

“Milly…” He’d search for her lips, kissing her softly, “How I’ve missed you.”

The journey wasn't long, and it would be a familiar path to Simon as they moved towards the room that they had shared for several years now. Though it felt so empty to her lately when she laid there while he remained at the castle. As supportive as she tried to be, she also found herself longing for his warmth and the way he held her as they slept. Often times, she'd wake up curled around his pillow that each day smelled less and less like him.

The door clicked shut and he drew her in. The deep rumble of his voice vibrated in his chest and through hers as he made his way towards kissing her. It was a gentle motion that they seemed to have kept over the years, her meeting him when he seemed to look. Often times, she forgot he was blind, being so in sync with him but also being so accustomed now to adjusting herself so he had an easier time, that when she actually thought about it, it was almost a surprise. This was just how they were.

"And I've missed you," she whispered against his lips, her fingers curling against the scruff on his cheeks and jaw line as she guided him to her. The moment the connection was made, she knew he didn't need to be walked through the process. The two of them knowing the intimate details of one another well enough by now. "You've been gone far too long for my liking," she spoke against his lips. "Do you have to return right away? Or do I get you for a few days?" She asked, her hands still refusing to let him get far from her.

When Simon held Romilly, the full weight of their separation hit him. He pulled her close, breathing in her perfume, feeling her soft skin against the roughness of his cheek. He smiled as his fingers traced the all too familiar contours of her face. Though it was years ago now, Simon could still see the woman from his wedding night. The gift that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I wish it was for longer,” Simon said with genuine regret, “But this whole business with the Allemeade farm…the king will render his judgment any day, and when that happens, I should be there.” Simon brushed her cheek, a sad smile on his face, “You could come with me. I'm sure the children would be fine for a few days.”

The thought was a comfort. He didn’t know then just how much he would need her in the weeks to come. Though Nolan gave him cause for concern, he had yet to find out about his betrayal and the death of his sister. For now, that storm was on the distant horizon.

He'd wish it was longer, and she ached for the same thing. They had come to long for one another after several awkward weeks of betrothal. Or well, perhaps tense was the better word. Both of them not knowing how to be around one another, Milly with her mind elsewhere on heartbreak, and yet look at them now. Years later, married, children, and doing quite well despite her complaint. But she knew it could be worse.

She had heard the stories of other noblewomen, where their husbands practically ignored them until it was time to take them to bed. Or they silenced them until the nighttime came around. Simon had never asked her to be silent. He had never tried to smother her into being a silent and obedient wife (even if she was the latter, and sometimes the former as well). But it wasn't just the way he spoke to her. It was how he reached for her, how even after all these years he still traced her features, he still wanted her close. And not because he needed her. Because he wanted her to be.

"I'm sure they would. But-" She let out a soft breath. "After the last trial," she almost shuddered at the thought. About how lucky the two of them had been to escape when they had. As well as the fact they had been unharmed. Her forehead pressed to his as she held him to her. "I have to talk to you... about Marius..." A sadness and strain was on her voice.

Simon understood. Pippa’s loss was a wound that he was certain would never heal, no matter how many soothing words he’d used to try and stitch it closed. He stroked her arm, breathing her in, relishing the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. Simon still ached for her. He dreaded the moment he had to leave from the second he walked in the door. Romilly was the sun that dissipated any darkness that settled over him. There was nothing they couldn’t weather together.

Nothing at all.

Romilly’s tone had Simon still. He lifted his hands to her face, feeling her expression there, brow furrowed with concern.

“What is it?”

She raised her hands to rest against his cheeks as well, mirroring the way he held her face as she tried to figure out the words she had repeated so many times before. How could she go about telling him this? He loved Marius, was truly the boys father in every sense of the word and role. While it was not Simon's blood that ran through the boys veins, he was every bit his son. She still remembered the heart break of telling him after he was born... that he had to be Hugh's. Those blue eyes were all she had to see.

'But I love him,' still wrecked her dreams at times. Never wanting to hear that hurt on his voice again. So now? She was still struggling to navigate the potential outcomes of what was to be said about the boy. "He's healthy," she first tried to soothe him in that way. "He is well," she stared into those milky eyes as his hands felt the way her face moved as she spoke. How her face pulled as her brows scrunched together with worry. "Some things," she whispered, "have been happening... and I-" her lip trembled a bit. With a shuddering breath she tried to steady herself.

"Simon, I think... he is gifted."