#peninsula fireplace

[johnnyvenusgf]

Modern Family Room in Oklahoma City Large minimalist open concept dark wood floor family room photo with a tile fireplace, white walls, a two-sided fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[scherzyhamilton]

Family Room - Contemporary Family Room

Family room idea with orange walls, a corner fireplace, a stone fireplace, and a wall-mounted tv. Large contemporary open concept family room with gray floor, gray ceramic tile, vaulted ceiling, and wall paneling.

[winchesterce]

Enclosed Family Room Seattle Ideas for remodeling a mid-sized contemporary enclosed family room with beige walls, a corner fireplace, and a plaster fireplace, all in the color beige.

[darthblueknight]

Open - Modern Family Room Inspiration for a mid-sized modern open concept light wood floor and brown floor family room remodel with beige walls, a two-sided fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[batty4u]

Victorian Kitchen - Kitchen Small Victorian u-shaped medium tone wood floor eat-in kitchen remodel ideas with recessed-panel cabinets, marble countertops, white backsplash, marble backsplash, and gray cabinets

[heyoctaneboy]

Scandinavian Kitchen (Los Angeles)

[golly-missmolly]

Great Room Kitchen

[whycolour]

Loft-Style - Living Room

[svarte-troner]

Enclosed - Transitional Kitchen

[sstudiously]

Living Room in Melbourne

[gqutie-blog]

Enclosed in San Francisco

[bellaxdarling]

Seattle Family Room Enclosed

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The perfect villain's lair is in Dunmore Head, Kilbaha, Kilrush, Co. Clare, Ireland. It has 4bds, 4ba, €9,75M / $10.505M. Notice the helipad, b/c villains always need a helicopter for a getaway.

It has a huge courtyard out front.

This entrance hall leads to 2 more doors.

That open to another entrance hall with a large niche and a fireplace.

Then another 2 doors with leaded glass.

Open to a stunning dining room. Look at the shine on that floor and the gorgeous ceiling.

On the other side of the fireplace there's a sitting room.

The kitchen doesn't even look like a kitchen. It's very sparse, too.

The primary bedroom has a sitting area with a fireplace.

The closet has a sliding ladder. I can see that there's a reflection in the floor, but it also looks like it could be trap door.

Very nice shower room.

Here's a kitchenette.

And, that opens to a hall with stairs.

Look at the crossover on the 2nd floor.

Plus, there's also another level.

Lovely bedroom with an arched ceiling, fireplace and a door to a deck.

Lovely large shower room. The baths look the same.

There's also a beautiful elevator.

The uppermost floor.

Another kitchen.

Table outside of the wine cellar.

Wow, a super clean indoor pool room that doesn't look like it's ever been used. The water is filled up to the brim.

The 60 acre property is located on a peninsula.

The lair at night.

https://dngosullivanhurley.com/property/dunmore-head-kilbaha-kilrush-co-clare/

[mindblowingscience]

If you look from above, you can see thousands of stone structures dotting the landscape of the Arabian peninsula. On the ground, you can find a bounty of stone tools and ancient fireplaces scattered along the edges of ancient lakes, as well as rock art depicting hunting and herding scenes in the surrounding mountains. Despite the visibility of these sites, only in the past decade or so have archaeologists taken a dedicated interest in them. Some of the structures have now been dated at up to 10,000 years old. However, the arid climate, baking days and freezing nights, and intense wind erosion are not kind to some of the other relics archaeologists prize. To date, there has been little found in the way of fossils or the kind of deeply buried, layered deposits that can open a window onto the history of a place. Until recently, no archaeologists had surveyed any of the hundreds of caves and lava tubes recorded across northern Arabia. In 2019, our team began to look in these subterranean locations—and in a new study published April 17 in PLoS ONE, we report on the first documented occupation of a lava tube in the Arabian Peninsula.

Continue Reading.

[whinlatter]

underrated hinny moments that make my heart hurt: shell cottage 🐚

'They were all sitting in the living room when he entered the little hall, their attention focused upon Bill, who was talking. The room was light-coloured, pretty, with a small fire of driftwood burning brightly in the fireplace. Harry did not want to drop mud upon the carpet, so he stood in the doorway, listening...'

i just wanted to say a little bit about an underrated hinny moment from of my favourite chapters in deathly hallows, the wandmaker. i love this chapter (and the one after it, also at shell cottage) for so many reasons: the rich visual imagery of the survivors finding their way to the sea; the symbolism of harry preparing the grave by hand for dobby's burial, foreshadowing his own death '('deeper and deeper Harry sank into the grave...'); ron and dean silently joining harry in digging dobby's grave, three soldiers burying a comrade, and both dean and ron offering up items of clothes to dobby as a tribute for dobby's sacrifice... it's all just gorgeous.

but… the hinny moment tho. the hinny scene in this chapter is so tiny and quiet but it's also so sad and so good. ok let’s get into it.

the chapter begins in the immediate aftermath of dobby's death. ginny hasn't been mentioned in the past seventy pages, since early january, with the trio's visit to the lovegood house (the group arrive at shell cottage in mid-march). the last time ginny was mentioned, harry was in devon, looking out to the burrow, realising how close they were to each other, thinking of her but being glad of her safety away from him. that day, he also saw her painted face alongside the others on luna's bedroom ceiling (friends.. friends... friends...) of course, it's at the lovegoods that harry learns the tale of the three brothers, and hears about the deathly hallows for the first time. this is a plot point that, with hindsight, we know foreshadows harry's mortal fate. (on ginny and the intertwined plotlines of hallows/horcruxes/harry's death, see here).

this chapter, then, begins with the little group, having just arrived, confronting terrible tragedy. the scene is reminiscent of the last time harry crash landed, panicking and grieving, in a place of safety: the burrow, after the seven plotters rescue, after hedwig’s death. of course, in that moment, harry is met by ginny: he wants to hold her and find comfort in her; ginny holds his hand and stays close. as we’ll see, there’s a trend in the later stages of the series: whenever harry is grieving, ginny is close by.

harry’s not in devon, this time, but in the neighbouring county of cornwall (two parts of the U.K. with these important historic ties as the two counties out on england’s jagged south-westernly peninsula jutting into the same stretch of sea). as soon as the chapter opens, harry's mind makes a callback to the last time harry staggered from a loved one's body:

'It was like sinking into an old nightmare; for an instant Harry knelt again beside Dumbledore’s body at the foot of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, but in reality he was staring at a tiny body curled upon the grass, pierced by Bellatrix’s silver knife.'

of course, when dumbledore lay dead at the foot of the astronomy tower, it was ginny and ginny alone who was able to get through to harry, to reach him and guide him away. this time, things are different. harry has no comfort here, no ginny present to catch him and receive him in his immediate grief: he's distanced mentally from the others at shell cottage, both by the fact of his loss and by the thoughts of voldemort and his fate that plague him now:

'The sea was rushing against the rock somewhere nearby; Harry listened to it while the others talked, discussing matters in which he could take no interest, making decisions.'

once the grave is dug, the little group gather together to bury dobby. there's another callback to dumbledore's death here - this time, it's to the funeral:

'He forced himself not to break down as he remembered Dumbledore’s funeral, and the rows and rows of golden chairs, and the Minister of Magic in the front row, the recitation of Dumbledore’s achievements, the stateliness of the white marble tomb. He felt that Dobby deserved just as grand a funeral, and yet here the elf lay between bushes in a roughly dug hole.'

harry returns to the memory of the funeral to contrast dumbledore's grand send off with dobby's humble one. but also, on some level, he's mentally returning to moments that were defined both by loss but also by the presence of what was, by his own description, 'his greatest comfort'. last time he said goodbye to a loved one, ginny was at his side - until, of course, the funeral had ended, the goodbye had been said, and harry had acted on his decision to let ginny go and embrace the solitary path left for him ('I've got things to do alone now’).

harry, grieving dobby, turns to the same coping strategies as he showed at dumbledore's funeral. a death means distancing himself from others ('I've got things to do alone now'); it means forcing himself not to break down ('[he] could not bear to hear these things, nor did he think his resolution would hold if he remained sitting beside her'), and it means pushing aside thoughts of his own grief and concentrating on the task left to him ('Moving felt much more bearable than sitting still...').

harry asks for the others for a moment alone, which they grant him. he then marks his friend's grave. the text is now heavy with foreshadowing. we are told, now, that harry has had a realisation as he dug the burial plot, though the details of this realisation is kept from the reader: we know it is somehow linked to the hallows and horcrux distinction. harry thinks about it now as he walks from the grave back to the house, hallows and horcruxes at the forefront of his mind.

'...his mind full of those things that had come to him in the grave, ideas that had taken shape in the darkness, ideas both fascinating and terrible...'

we will learn, in the next chapter, that the decision harry has made is not to race voldemort to the elder wand. he’s chosen to go after horcruxes, and not the hallows; not to become master of death, but to remain the chosen one. it’s such an important moment for harry: he’s choosing who he will be, setting things in motion, making a gamble that distinguishes himself both from voldemort and, he thinks, from dumbledore. he doesn’t know it yet, but this powerful - and shrewd - decision will cost him his life. and whenever harry takes a step closer to his own death...

cut to the next paragraph. immediately after this enormously significant line - of pivotal ideas taking shape in the darkness - we have this:

'They were all sitting in the living room when he entered the little hall, their attention focused upon Bill, who was talking. The room was light-coloured, pretty, with a small fire of driftwood burning brightly in the fireplace. Harry did not want to drop mud upon the carpet, so he stood in the doorway, listening.'

the setting here is important. it's domestic, homely, safe, similar to descriptions of the burrow, a kind of modest, warm, familial comfort. harry stands on the threshold of a room which is described as 'light-coloured' and 'pretty', with a bright fire lit. throughout the series, of course, signals for ginny throughout the text are always about light (especially natural light and sunlight), warmth and fire: obviously we have ginny's 'blazing look', but also her 'glowing like the setting sun' (CoS), her eyes 'reflecting the firelight' (OotP), her 'red hair flying like flames' (HBP), how looking at her is 'like gazing into a brilliant light' (DH). the mentioned prettiness of the room is also supposed to help usher in mention of a character that, in harry’s mind, is beautiful and lovely to behold. harry stands apart from the room and from the others: his fears about the mud are also supposed to reinforce how removed he is from the rest of the gathered group. still, these little descriptions give us little clues that a mention of ginny is coming.

as bill addresses the people gathered in this firelit pretty little room, the part of his monologue that harry's ears prick to is the mention of ginny:

'... lucky that Ginny’s on holiday. If she’d been at Hogwarts, they could have taken her before we reached her. Now we know she’s safe too.'

the mention of ginny here is significant for two reasons. first, news that ginny is safe is the first small piece of comfort harry gets after dobby dies. standing outside this warm, safe, sheltered little room, harry receives news that ginny is out of harm’s way, as are the other members of the weasley family, whom he loves. now both the reader and harry get this little bit of light in the darkness, confirmation that ginny is safe, but also allows her to resume her role in HBP, as some tiny comfort to harry in grief, even in absentia. (honestly i just love the image of harry in the doorway, grief-stricken, covered in mud, listening in the corridor to this one little tiny piece of good news about the girl he’s in love with).

secondly, though, i love how this brief mention allows ginny to enter the narrative of these scenes that are, at its core, about harry’s ultimate destiny in the voldemort/chosen one/horcrux v hallows arc. even when not physically present, ginny stands in as this one flickering little warm light - a little fire, burning still - that anchors harry even when he is making these huge choices that will take him into such deep forms of magic and down so solitary a path where no other character can really reach him. it deepens this connection in the reader’s mind between ginny and harry’s fate in ways that makes him thinking of her as he dies make such deep sense. ginny isn’t a subplot extraneous to the chosen one plot: she’s bound up in it, in this rich, complicated, sad way, not as someone who save this character from his fate, but is essential to sending him off at peace with it. so often when harry is closing in on the truth about the horcruxes and hallows, mentions of ginny are close by (see the kiss meta above). ginny is that important.

'[Bill] looked around and saw Harry standing there. “I’ve been getting them all out of the Burrow,” he explained. “Moved them to Muriel’s. The Death Eaters know Ron’s with you now, they’re bound to target the family—don’t apologise,” he added at the sight of Harry’s expression. “It was always a matter of time, Dad’s been saying so for months. We’re the biggest blood traitor family there is.” “How are they protected?” asked Harry.'

obviously, harry is harry-ing here - he wants to apologise for the risk and danger posed to the weasleys (especially because the reason for the trio's capture was his fault), and he demands information about how ginny and the rest of the weasleys will be kept safe going forward. he knows ginny is safe: he wants to make sure she stays that way.

what's also significant about this moment, though, is that it reinforces this dynamic that runs throughout DH as a book, which is that at all times the reader knows exactly where ginny is. ginny spends the majority book off stage, yet we're told when she's on the train to hogwarts, when she's back home for christmas, when she’s back for easter and moves to muriel's etc. when harry doesn't know where ginny is, during the battle - when she leaves the room of requirement at his instruction but then appears to vanish - it’s therefore deployed to detonate a deep sense of panic, where we see harry confront the worst possible reality, one he is unable to even bring himself to process, the prospect of ginny’s death ('and he wanted to find the other Weasleys, and above all make sure, make quite sure, that Ginny was not—but he could not permit that idea to form in his mind—'). when harry eventually goes to his death in the forest - the ultimate thing he will have to grieve: his own life — of course, it's ginny he comes across in the grounds, waiting to give him comfort one last time, to send him on his way. (see the forest meta again for a more thorough explanation of this).

after this short conversation with bill, harry cleans himself of the dirt and mud of the grave at the kitchen sink. it seems so trivial but i'm just obsessed with the extremely slow pace of this scene. the tempo is so unusual for the series, and there's this extremely compelling domesticity to it, which continues this ongoing association with ginny and the burrow in the reader's mind. harry slowly and methodically washes and dries his hands as he thinks, again, of dumbledore and the hallows, in this setting that feels like the end of the earth:

'Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold, as he washed, again following the train of thought that had come to him in the dark garden . . . Harry dried his hands, impervious to the beauty of the scene outside the window and to the murmuring of the others in the sitting room. He looked out over the ocean and felt closer, this dawn, than ever before, closer to the heart of it all.'

in the rest of the chapter, of course, harry will make some of the most important choices he’ll ever make. he'll choose to talk first to griphook over ollivander, a choice he recognises as making the ultimate decision to hunt horcruxes over hallows. the conversations with these characters will each inch him closer to the end of his quest, and of his life. and he’ll think about who he is — who dumbledore understood him to be — and throw back veils of understanding to see himself most clearly for the first time, the most significant epiphany scene bar the later discovery of his own death in dumbledore’s office.

'You gave Ron the Deluminator . . . You understood him. . . . You gave him a way back . . . And you understood Wormtail too. . . . You knew there was a bit of regret there, somewhere. . . . And if you knew them . . . What did you know about me, Dumbledore?'

i really love these lines on their own terms, but i just think this chapter, and harry’s time at shell cottage, are some of the most significant statements of harry’s essence as a character we get in the whole series. we’re seeing who harry has become and all that dumbledore knew that he was: the core elements of harry, the cumulative weight of the preceding years on his shoulders, and the person made and moulded by everything he has been through up to this point. he's seeing clearly now. in his grief over dobby, he finally masters the connection with his mind and voldemort’s, using his grief and his love as a barrier, and chooses who he will be.

so i just think it means so much that ginny is brought, quietly, into the frame at this extremely pivotal point. she’s a little driftwood fire in a warm little family home by the sea, a brief moment of pause and safety and sanctuary, before the end; not holding harry back from his fate, but giving him some strength, some comfort, as he embraces it.

(ps: the next time ginny is mentioned, in the next chapter, shell cottage, it happens during this sweet little dinnertime scene by the fireplace, with romantic undertones with fleur worrying about bill in his absence, right before remus bursts in to announce that his own wife has just given birth to their son, with harry surrounded by all this talk of little families... ok i'll stop i'll stop but honestly):

A strong wind gusted against the cottage windows as Bill and Ollivander set off into the night. The rest of them squeezed in around the table; elbow to elbow and with barely enough room to move, they started to eat. The fire crackled and popped in the grate beside them. Fleur, Harry noticed, was merely playing with her food; she glanced at the window every few minutes; however, Bill returned before they had finished their first course, his long hair tangled by the wind. "Everything's fine," he told Fleur. "Ollivander settled in, Mum and Dad say hello. Ginny sends you all her love...'

[asha-mage]

mat/tuon prompt: dice

For his thirty fourth birthday Mat received two gifts from his wife.

The first he woke up to find on his sitting room table, in an ornately carved and gilded box of black oak. There was no note or message attached to it, and Mat knew that if he questioned the servants none would admit to any knowledge of how it had gotten into his room.

They might even be telling the truth. He thought most of the da’covale in his entourage were more in his camp then Tuon’s these days, and she had plenty of other means of circumventing his security without raising an alarm. But it was hard to say for sure. Mat had a remarkable ability to win people over, but the Empress was the Empress, and with the Seanchan-born that could matter more than all the good feeling and personal loyalty in the world.

Still the how didn’t really matter that much. Neither did the lack of anything to identify the sender. Mat knew it was Tuon. No one else in the Empire would be sending him gifts on his birthday. In Seanchan, namedays were celebrated on the date you had been given your current name, not the date you had been born, and it was months yet until the anniversary of the day Tuon had officially recognized him as Emperor Consort and bequeathed him the name of Inarian.

There would be a grand feast on that day, both to celebrate him making it through another year with his head still attached to his shoulders, and to commemorate the Battle of Malheian, which had brought the entire peninsula of Dohmar, and more importantly the capital, back under the Empress’s control. That was when Tuon had finally raised him from Prince of the Ravens to Emperor Consort, and he had shed the name Knotai for Inarian. It would be a grand spectacle, that feast, full of parades and presentations and balls. He would have to endure an endless stream of nobles vying for his favor by presenting him lavish and exotic gifts from across the Empire, and give several speeches written out ahead of time by his so'jhin.  It was something Mat dreaded every year, and that despite his best efforts, he never quite managed to escape. Tuon played the game too well for that.

Case in point: the box.

Mat considered retrieving his ashandarei, but in the end settled for simply using one of the gilded fireplace pokers to remove the lid from the box. He had to shove it into the crevice and jimmy a bit to get the lid to pop off, but when he did, his caution proved completely justified.

There was a flash of black, something streaking through the air faster than Mat would have been able to escape had he been standing closer. But with Mat standing a good distance back, the serpent could only snap at the air in confusion, its fangs failing to sink into anything as it fell, half its body slapping onto the table, the other half still curled inside the box.

Mat didn’t hesitate- he struck with the blunt hook of the poker slamming it against the serpent’s triangle shaped head and crushing it against the tabletop with a single sickening crunch. Blood sprayed over the silken table cloth, staining the dark green with crimson. Then just to be sure it was dead, Mat gave it three more wacks. He didn’t think Tuon could find a special unkillable snake, but better safe than sorry.

When it became clear the snake would not be moving absent of its brain Mat hooked its body onto the edge of his poker and lifted it to the light to examine it better. He gave a start when he realized the snake was covered in shiny black scales with a lean, somewhat short body.

“A Blacklance.” He whispered and was unable to stop himself from smiling. One of the most poisonous snakes he knew of, with venom that could kill in heartbeats.

What a thoughtful wife he had.

Letting the poker drop Mat moved to strike the brass gong on his bedside table, which summoned the servants back from where he had sent them into the hall to wait. They spilled into the room in a flurry of confusion and noise that only grew as they saw the body of the serpent sprawled on the table.

They, of course, were horrified and shocked at the presence of the snake, though none of them recognized it for what it was as near as Mat could tell. Much was made over his wellbeing and Mat had to quash several attempts to call for the palace physician, the Seekers for Truth, and even Selucia.

Names where floated in the panic of who might be responsible. By his secretary, by the cupbearer, even by his da'covale: their suspects ranged from High Lords that Mat had recently offended or snubbed, to enemy warlords in the still fractured north and south who wanted to prevent the Empire’s reconsolidation, to the Amyrlin Seat, whose title was spoken with the horror Mat was more used to hearing in the voice of those talking of the Dark One.

Adric, Mat’s so’jihin, said nothing on the matter, instead simply directing the work of having the snake removed, along with the tablecloth and the box, then set about ordering da'covale back to their various tasks, including seeing Mat dressed and combed. He knew the score, and knew there was no sense in dwelling on what could not be changed.

The four Deathwatch Guards who had been given to him by Tuon were equally silent. Mat had no doubts where their loyalties ultimately lay, and they knew Tuon too well to take this for anything else but what it was. Then there was Laier. The slender fifteen year old boy who was supposedly Mat’s sulshima also had no expression. Officially Laier’s duty was tending to Mat’s weapons, armor, and other needful things while on campaign, when a horde of servants were not convenient to keep around, and staying close to see to any odd jobs Mat might have while at court. But Laier had been born and trained in secret as a Shadow, the same as Selucia, raised to be the second to last line of defense for Mat’s life. Mat had seen him kill without remorse or hesitation at only twelve years old, the same age he had been given to Mat, crushing the throat of the assassin who had been sent specifically to test his skills as a bodyguard. Laier’s loyalty was exclusively to Mat, no matter how little Mat wanted it, and Laier also knew very well where the box had come from.

Most of the scars Laier bore were not the work of Tuon’s various attempts to kill him. But some were. One was too many in Mat’s book, but he had given up that fight for a bad job. He had yelled and bargained and begged, but it had not made a dent, on the boy or on Tuon. Both had been bewildered by his objections, had seen nothing wrong in the arrangement. Mat was a member of the Imperial Family. He needed a Shadow. That was that. If anything, Tuon had seemed worried he would be upset over not having been given one sooner.

One should have been part of your wedding gift by rights. She had told him when he had been presented the twelve year old on their anniversary. But most of the unassigned Shadows were killed during the start of the Anarchy, so one had to be trained from scratch. Shadows, Mat had learned, where born into it, but began their training at three years old. They were usually assigned between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Mat hadn’t dared ask what happened to ones who weren't assigned by that time. Their was nothing else in the boy's life but protecting Mat, the same as it had been with Selucia and Tuon. In the end, Mat hadn't been able to deny him his only purpose. Instead he had promised himself that he would do what he could for the boy, and learn to live the rest. That was why Mat had sent him out of the room with the others even though he wasn't supposed to. The bloody child would have probably insisted on opening the box with his own two hands, and then where would they be?

For the moment, Laeir stood to the side, waiting patiently while the servants worked. Mat for his part kept his own silence, letting the da'covale chatter while they dressed him, not revealing any of his own thoughts on the matter. Let the palace think what it wished. No one would dare name Tuon as the culprit of the latest assassination attempt, though most would at least entertain the possibility. It made no difference in the end.

By the time his coat was fixed in place and his hat was finally handed to him, Mat was more than ready for breakfast. Adric went ahead to see to directing the rest of Mat’s entourage, and the Deathwatch Guards spread out in a fan, while Laier raced on to open doors and bow Mat into each new room. On the off chance they encountered commoners on route to the dining garden, Laier could serve as Mat’s Voice and would need to be close at hand to read the finger gestures Mat had been forced to learn.

Not that anyone really expected Mat to use a voice. Even most of the Blood had given up being shocked and appalled that Mat spoke to simple commoners without an intermediary. It was like his refusal to grow out his fingernails or paint them. Another oddity of the foreign born Emperor Consort. Something to gossip about in parlors and salons, but as long as he kept winning battles for the Empire, not something worth holding against him day to day.

Tuon was waiting for Mat in the dining garden, already seated at the small table beneath the open air pavilion. As always the first sight of her caught Mat’s breath in a way he could never explain. Maybe in a way he would never be able to explain. Her dark skin glowed in the morning light, and something about the green and white of her pleated dress- simple as a gown sown with opals and firedrops could be- set off that beauty perfectly.

Selucia stood at her shoulder of course, Deathwatch Guards ringing the pavilion in stoney silence. But Mat ignored them like he always did as he sauntered over to the table and dropped lazily into the chair opposite Tuon.

“Good morning wife!” He said cheerily. “How did you sleep?”

Her full lips twitched, the barest hint of a scowl trying to form before she suppressed it. Mat could have chuckled, but that would have given him away. It irked her that he didn’t bluster and snarl and shake the body of the snake at her. The same way it had once irked Mat when Daise Conger had refused to acknowledge that her chickens had been covered in flour. The worst thing that could happen with a prank was not getting caught and punished, it was the joke not landing.

“I slept well, husband.” She said in that drawling honey voice of hers. “I feel much refreshed from my most recent progression. And you?”

The moment Mat was settled, the da’covale began to lay out their breakfast. Mat barely paid any mind to the the combination of uncooked fish and sweet breads that were spread before them, his eyes were locked to Tuon’s, trying to read the mysteries hidden there.

Mat had not wanted a life milking his father’s cows, a life of boring simplicity in the Two Rivers. He had wished for more. He had wished for excitement and adventure and daring gambles. And Light of Heaven, he had gotten his wish.

“I slept well.” Mat replied, raising his cup. His cupbearer was there in a heartbeat to pour kaf for him. “I dreamed of a forest actually.”

Tuon blinked, raising an eyebrow. “A forest?”

Mat nodded. “A forest in Altara actually. Northern Altara, not far from the Damona Mountains. I think we may have visited it once during our courtship.”

This time, Tuon didn’t catch her smile soon enough to prevent him from seeing it. Even if she had, Mat didn’t doubt she would have caught his hidden meaning.

It was in a forest near the Damona Mountains, where a blacklance had nearly taken the life of one of their party. Mat had let it go, and Tuon had gifted a kiss to ‘the man who allowed a deadly snake to live.’ Their first kiss.

I see you beneath it all Tuon. He thought as he gazed at her. I see the woman you are beneath the duty, and the machinations, and the iron cold mask. I know your sentimental heart. To say that to her would be to court his own death- not a half hearted assaination attempt meant to fail and to keep him sharp. But a real, true death, probably screaming in the Tower of Ravens. But he found ways to tell her without words anyways. He had to. There was too much love in him for him to keep it all sealed up- like water, it demanded some path to rush along.

“We might have.” Tuon said noncommittally as her plate was layered high with fish. “I can’t recall.”

Mat shrugged and was about to start in on the food when Tuon spoke again.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have a gift for you, husband.” Mat turned back to her, raising his eyebrow. She simply gestured and Selucia glided forward, producing something from her sleeve.

He was suddenly on guard, and his tension was obvious because he saw Laier tense also, out of the corner of his eye. In a one on one fight, Mat would bet on Laier against Selucia- he was younger, faster, and Selucia was on the older end for a Shadow already. But if Tuon was going to try and kill him here and now there was no way the Deathwatch Guard wouldn’t get involved, and in that melee all Laier could do was die. But surely not- this wasn't Tuon’s way. She wouldn’t try again at his life so soon after the snake. Unless-

His thoughts cut off as Selucia laid something down beside him on the table. It was a small leather cup, tooled with roses. Mat’s jaw dropped when he realized what it was and he glanced at Tuon again to find her smirking openly, thrilling in having thrown him off guard.

Hesitantly, Mat reached out and picked up the leather cup, popping off the lid. Sure enough, as he tipped it over, six glittering black dice, shining like glass but clinking like metal, rolled onto the table. Each pip was a moon in a different phase, carefully and stylistically set into the metal surface.

By purest chance each of the die had landed to show a single new moon. Only one pip. The Dark One’s eyes. The best toss, or the worst, depending on the game.

“Happy birthday, husband.” Tuon said, and for just a moment, he heard genuine warmth slip into her voice. He would never know if it was a mistake in a moment of weakness, or an intentional attempt to manipulate him, or just her letting herself be vulnerable for a special occasion. That, Mat reflected, was half the fun. “Do you like it?”

Mat laid his hand over the dice and grinned at her. “I love it, wife. Shall we play a round after breakfast?”

She raised a single eyebrow at him. Her imperious mask was firmly back in place now, no hint of humanity or weakness to be shown. “And what shall be the stakes, husband? What could we wager of meaning between us? Coin? Jewels? Kingdoms?”

“The highest stakes of all.” Mat said, picking up the dice and shaking them in his palm. “A single kiss to the winner of each round.”

She didn’t react except to sniff at him, but Mat didn’t mind. He knew this game. He had chosen it. And there truly was nothing else like it in all the world. That was more than enough for him.

He opened his hand, and rolled the dice.