Title: Home Is Where The Heart Is
Rating: G
Word Count: 933
Summary: After the events of Tricksters Queen, Sarai feels lost and without a home. Zaimid helps her find it.

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Home Is Where The Heart Is

The sea breeze gently blew on Sarai's hair and she looked pretty, even while on the verge of tears. She made no attempt to hide the anguish slowly ripping her apart from the inside. Sarai's flickering hair wisped her face as its normal smile pulled into a tight frown. She continued to stare out to the dark sea and beyond.

As the boat gently rocked to and fro on the relatively calm sea, Sarai wished for a storm; loud and ferocious. At least then she'd be able to vent and grieve in private without being heard; without being heard by Zaimid. Sarai loved Zaimid; that was a given. She would not have run off to elope with him for any less of a reason.

She also had an equal amount of love for her family. She could only hope that they would one day forgive her. Had she not, after all, brought disgrace and shame upon her family? Sarai had been reckless, headstrong; she acted on impulses and allowed her heart, not her head, to lead the way. She had done so all her life. But now? Now she could add selfishness to the list.

For that's exactly what she was – selfish. Instead of accepting marriage to a crown prince, she ran off and eloped. Most women would sell their mother's honor for the chance to be a princess of the realm. Perhaps had the situation been different, Sarai too would have been one of those girls. At present, however, she wasn't.

The sun, now hiding behind the edges of the horizon, encouraged the cool night breeze. Sarai shivered and tightened her cloak, hugging her stomach as she did so. She rested her hip against the boat's railing and scanned the Emerald Ocean for a sign of life, but saw none. It was a discouraging sign.

This was not her first boat trip, nor was it the first time she had fled her home, but hopefully, she thought with a grim smile, it will be the last.

"Home," she breathed. The word seemed to have lost all meaning.

She was no fool, Dove and Winna loved her, they would welcome her back with arms wide open; others, however, would not. She could no longer call the Copper Isles her home, nor was she about to declare Carthak to have taken its place. At present, Sarai had no home. It made her feel so insignificant and small.

That was when Zaimid joined Sarai, effectively saving her from being consumed by her own thoughts. He approached her slowly, not wanting to frighten his wife in this fragile state. With time Sarai would return to her vibrant self, he was sure. For now, she needed him.

Zaimid enclosed her in his arms without a word being said. He understood her position and promised to make the transition to the big dry country of Carthak as easy as possible for her. "You will like the Empress Kalasin. She's quite fiery like you." He chuckled. "She keeps Kadder grounded. The effect she has on him is quite amusing to watch."

Sarai knew Zaimid was trying to distract her from her thoughts. She silently thanked him. "You also said she was with child." Sarai wrinkled her nose. "That means mood swings."

"With her being in her … current state, you will also be the most beautiful at court, by far." Further distractions, although Sarai did not mind distractions of this nature.

She glowed and almost – almost - forgot her worries. "Will I still be beautiful when I'm in that same state?"

"Of course." Zaimid's eyes were ablaze. He took Sarai's hand and gently caressed it in his. "We shall name our first born Mequen."

Sarai raised her eyes to his, touched. She watched him intently, allowing her free hand to trace the contours of his skin. "Why?"

"Because he was a good man," Zaimid said simply. "He died defending those he loved. We will honor him. And it will make you happy." He brushed away the tears falling freely from her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered before sighing wistfully. She wished more than anything that she could share this moment with Dove and Winna.

"I am, of course, the only one worthy of the name Zaimid," he murmured in jest, anything to keep her from thinking of home. Zaimid winked at his wife.

Sarai punched his shoulder lightly. "Watch it."

Zaimid grinned. He placed a finger under her chin and gently lifted it. "I will love any child of ours, no matter their name. I just want you to be happy."

Talking of children - of her own children - felt odd to Sarai. She told him so. Although she welcomed the thought.

Zaimid chuckled and kissed her tenderly.

It was then that Sarai found her home. It was not in a country, or in a pretty home. It was not furnished with antique wonders and did not home statues or paintings of great worth. It did not have a roof or even four walls.

But it had a heart, a heart beating steady and strong. Willing to help the weak in times of need. A heart filled with compassion and the ability to heal others. This heart was not, however, to be patronized as a saint. This heart was an awful flirt, sometimes mischievous, but loveable all the same.

It was then, in the strong and tanned arms of Zaimid, with her ear pressed against his chest, that Sarai finally found home and she intended to stay there, her whole life through.