Cari, of course, watches about as nosily as she can from the couch as we walk through the living space and enter Bella’s room.
Then Bella closes the door behind us softly, its click momentarily echoing through the room with a strange sense of finality.
Of course, the first thing I notice is the smell. It smells like her. Flowers, spices, tea, and just... all-around cleanliness.
The next is how tidy the space is.
She actually makes her bed, which blows my mind.
Who does that? And why? You’re just going to mess it up again...
Distracted as I try to be, it doesn’t help much.
For several long moments, neither of us speak. She heads to her desk to prepare a cup of tea—because of course she has a kettle and tea set in her room as well for some ungodly reason—then settles on the edge of her bed once it's begun warming.
I hover awkwardly near the door for a moment before sitting next to her, my tail curling into my lap automatically.
I make sure to sit just far enough away that we aren’t touching, but close enough that I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m trying to avoid her.
She still doesn’t look at me, though.
The silence stretches for a time, until finally the kettle begins whistling its tell-tale tune of readiness.
She gets up and moves to pour two cups, and as she does... she finally speaks.
“There are several things I wished to ask you about,” she says quietly.
I straighten instinctively.
“O-okay.”
She’s quiet for another moment as she passes me a small plate, a cup of steaming tea resting delicately atop it. Then she settles in beside me once more, no closer or farther than we were before.
Is... that a good thing?
“Strangely, I find myself at a loss for words when you’re involved,” she admits. “But I’m no fool. I know what you are trying to do.”
“And... what’s that?” I ask leadingly.
She huffs, and when I look over, I find her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.
“If you must hear me say it, then here it is. You’re trying to court me.”
I just stare at her.
I mean, it’s not wrong... at all, really.
But court? Seriously?
Instead of calling out how silly she’s being, trying to turn this all formal and whatever, I just nod.
Her cheeks darken further, and she takes a shaky sip of tea to steady herself.
Then she seems to firm her resolve, her shoulders and back stiffening and her eyes locking with mine, a critical look boring into me.
“Krissy and Nyria,” she begins.
“Oh, gods,” I groan, dropping my face into my free hand.
“It’s... easy enough to deduce their profession,” she continues. “Will you explain why they call you Mistress and... and dote on you so?”
I sigh, forcing myself upright with all the dignity I can muster.
“Is this how you’re trying to ask if I’m already entangled?” I ask incredulous. “Because if so, you could’ve just ask that outright, you know.”
She looks away. “Please just let me do this how I can.”
I wince. “Right. Sorry.”
Then I think about my answer for a bit.
It’s clear what she’s after. She wants to see if I’m just some... floozy, I suppose.
Which, honestly? Fair enough. I’d be skeptical of someone so close with working girls as well, so it’s not entirely unreasonable.
A little judgy, maybe, but I’d be just as guilty of it.
“It’s not... okay, no that’s a lie. It’s exactly what it sounds like, but also not at all.”
She looks utterly perplexed.
I groan. “Ugh, I’m messing this up. Look, the ‘Mistress’ thing started as a necessity. I saved the brothel from a gang of... well, that doesn’t matter. The point is they appointed me as their guardian.”
I lower my voice as I think back on it.
“They gave me a home. A job. Became my friends, and even pampered me in all the ways I allowed them to.”
Bella frowns, then.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Not like that, though.”
She watches me for a moment, then turns away to take another sip.
“I see,” she says, eventually. “And Krissy? I’ve seen how you two interact. It’s... different from you and Nyria.”
I blow out a heavy breath.
For a fraction of a second, I consider dodging the question.
Then I remember who it is I’m talking to, and why I’m humoring this in the first place. It washes away any hint of hesitation.
She deserves honesty, at the very least.
“We were intimate once,” I admit softly, idly twisting my teacup in place.
She stiffens almost imperceptibly.
“It was after I dealt with the gang,” I continue before she can jump to conclusions. “Things were... messy. For both of us.”
I stare down into my tea.
“She needed comfort. I did too. That’s really all it was.”
She’s silent then. It doesn't feel like the angry silence of someone learning something that greatly displeases them, though.
It’s the contemplative quiet before thought is put into words.
That gives me hope.
“And now?” she asks softly.
I shrug and give the most honest answer I can.
“She’s my friend.”
Then, because my mouth moves faster than my brain, I say something silly.
“If you want, I could bring you to meet them again, sometime. To see for yourself.”
Bella nearly inhales her tea mid sip.
“I beg your pardon?”
I burst into laughter.
“Not like that!”
Her face turns violently red.
“I meant just to talk!” I wheeze. “Gods, you looked so horrified!”
“You invited me to a brothel!”
I laugh harder, wiping away a tear of joy.
“I invited you to meet my friends!”
“At a brothel!” she growls.
I just fight for my life against the laughter that never seems to end while Bella makes a point of sipping her tea as huffily as she can.
Gods, it’s adorable.
Eventually, the room settles again, and she sets her tea on the bedside table.
Then her expression grows more serious.
“Emilia...”
My stomach tightens with dread once more.
“What are your intentions?”
I open my mouth immediately, skepticism nearly overwriting my common sense, then stop.
...What are my intentions?
I set my tea on the bed far enough away that I won’t jostle it and lay back. I stay quiet there for several long moments, fidgeting with the seams in the blanket as I think.
About Bella. About what I want.
Finally, I exhale slowly.
“I think...” I start, suddenly feeling utterly terrified. “I think I want to stay beside you.”
She stills completely.
“I want to keep making you smile,” I continue quietly. “I want to tear away that silly little noble mask you put up all the time. I want to flirt with you until you stop looking like you’re moments away from exploding every time I brush you with my tail.”
For a moment, she looks outraged despite her fluster.
So I swish my tail off my lap to gently brush against her thigh for emphasis, and she releases a tiny strangled squeak.
“And I think...” I add. “I want to make you happy.”
She seems to stop functioning entirely after that.
She stares at me in horror, utterly frozen, her face entirely crimson.
Not the bad kind of horror though. It’s more like... overwhelmed princessy-horror.
Then she snaps out of it and swiftly stands to pace.
And gods, does she pace.
She practically races across the room, back and forth and back and forth... never once pausing in her steps, only moving.
Almost like she’s trying to run away, but can’t.
She speaks quickly, then.
“Emilia, you don’t understand,” she says, her voice tight. “My father would never approve of—this.”
She pauses only a moment to gesture vaguely between us.
“You are kind, and clever, and brave, and so, so ridiculous, but you are also...”
“A ticking time bomb?”
She huffs. “That too, yes, but that’s not what I’m getting at.”
I smirk at her.
She stop pacing again long enough to look me directly in the eyes.
“Don’t take this as an insult, please... but you are also short sighted.”
I wince at that because I know it’s true. It doesn’t feel good to hear it from her, of all people, but I’m a big girl. I can handle it.
“I’m a Princess, Emilia.”
I nod slowly, and she covers her face and lets out a weary sigh.
“My relationships are not fully my own. They never truly will be, despite how much my parents love me.”
Something sharp and stubborn twists inside my chest. Frustration, determination, and anger roil within me—
Then it clicks.
She’s trying to scare me off. To make me reconsider the idea of liking her at all.
I see it, then. The conflict and fear in her eyes.
For whatever reason, she’s terrified of what me liking her means. Whether it’s truly because she worries about her parents opinions, or because she really doesn’t have a choice in the matter, I’m not certain.
All I know is that she’s not trying to get out of it herself. Instead, she’s sacrificing her own feelings and trying to convince me to back out.
Deep down, it doesn’t sit right with me.
My mind races as I try to work through a way to convince her to just give it a chance, and pause. The fact that I’m trying to do this already tells me that it means more to me than I’m probably prepared for right now.
But... I like her.
And owe her.
That idea sticks like glue to the corners of my mind, tugging at my instincts and pulling a new idea from the depths.
This wasn’t how I imagined offering the Oath to her. I wanted it to be more... special, somehow.
I’ve felt a debt to her ever since the Bluebell’s Recompense Dungeon, and only recently found ways I might go about repaying her. Namely helping her family push back the Chasm.
But she’s throwing herself on an altar to loneliness, and I just... can’t. I refuse to let her martyr her happiness before she even allows herself to choose.
It hurts, watching her try to erase herself from the equation.
I already know she won’t accept what I’m about to offer her. She’s too responsible. Too careful. Too afraid of what accepting it would mean.
And she's always done what was right.
But that’s not the point anymore.
It’s about making her understand that she can’t push me away for my own sake.
I stand, putting myself directly into her path, and Fae Ferocity activates. This time it’s in a chaotic swirl of emotions and urges that combine in ways they never have before.
Play.
She wants to scare me. I’ll prove she doesn’t get to decide such things.
Trick.
She wants to make me worry for my future. I’ll make her aware that her actions have turned my future into hers.
Punish.
She’s too afraid to express her own feelings. I’ll show her that it’s safe to do so, whether she likes it or not.
I’ll make it so that she understands just how far I’m willing to go to ensure she gets all that she desires, and all that I believe she deserves for what she’s done.
And if that’s not enough...
I shunt the thought away like the poisonous thing it is.
All that’s left is a simple thought.
I don’t want her to push me away.
She’s smart. Brilliant, even. She’ll understand what it is that I’m doing.
It only took a few seconds to work through all of this, and the entire time she pauses to fuss over her tea kettle for a moment, putting her concerns into something physical rather than wearing them into the floorboards.
When she turns to pace back my way, my gaze settles on her, eyes narrowed in a mix of anger and determination.
She freezes.
“A favor given freely begets three in turn.”
My Faen Oathstone appears between us, sparkling beautifully as the mana that comprises it dances within its confines. It’s almost like it’s reflecting my emotions at this moment.
The excitement. The fear. The hope.
“You’ve done more for me than I can ever properly repay, Bella. So let me try.”
Her expression shifts rapidly between emotions I can’t fully read.
“Wait, Emilia—”
My Oathstone pulses with mana, and she quiets.
I realize, then, why nobody interfered when I made an Oath with the dwarven King.
It’s because they couldn’t.
The magic of a faen Oath is... other. I feel it, intrinsically, through the Oathstone itself. There is just something to the nature of a fae deal that can’t be interfered with, even by those with true power.
“Even if it was only an illusion, you fought beside my father to help my family escape,” I continue. “You witnessed my past. You carried my mother to her resting place and set her free when I—”
My voice breaks for a moment, but I push through.
“You did what I could not.”
Her eyes well with all the soft emotions I’m still not sure I can handle, but she remains silent.
So I continue, pushing past the pain that still lingers, albeit weakly.
“A favor freely given begets three in turn,” I intone. “You gave me the chance to learn what caused the demise of my people. You brought me before the One of Knowledge and Secrets.”
I don’t know why I feel those words fit the Archivist better than simply calling him ‘the Archivist’, but they do. And I trust my instincts enough to understand that there’s more to him than I initially thought.
Something to look into later.
Then new words come to me.
“A favor freely given begets three in turn... and yet, you have given three instead,” I intone, instinct guiding me more than anything now. “Thus you are owed more than I can think to offer.”
My Oathstone flares with pale blue light, pin-pricks of deep blue spattering against the walls, floor, and ceiling as it blazes, giving the room an almost starry feel.
The words that come to me next scare me. Not because I disagree with them, but because I don’t.
And why is it that I don’t? Why would I go this far for a girl I still just barely know?
Though I question myself, I know that deep down, she’s more than just some noble girl with noble ambitions. More than a friend. More than anything I could put words to.
Or at least, she has the potential to be—and that’s something I am more than willing to take the gamble on. Especially after what I’ve seen of her character.
I also know that she would despise me if I didn’t allow her to choose.
Just as I know that she’ll decline my offer, in the end.
So the words come, true in ways that terrify me.
“So as long as you wish it, I shall remain at your side,” I say. “I shall not betray you. I shall not abandon you. I shall not turn my claws against you.”
As I speak, my Oathstone begins to float towards her with inexorable slowness.
Bella gasps softly.
When it finally stops just before her, and after a moment of hesitation, she slowly lifts her hand.
It settles gently into her palm with quiet finality.
“And should the world stand against you... it shall find me in its path. That is the least you are owed.”
Silence lingers for a moment before I continue, the instinct finally beginning to fade now that the Oath has been offered.
“Whether or not you accept this oath, I will help you push back the Chasm, even if I need to grow strong enough to do it alone,” I whisper. “And if there’s a way to keep your people safe outside of that... then I’ll find it.”
She stares at the stone in her hand, utterly motionless.
Then I feel it.
Through my strange and still infuriatingly confusing fae magic, I truly feel the exact moment Bella understands what I’ve placed in her hands.
Trust.
Most of all, a choice that she, alone, must make. Unaltered by obligation or family or anything else the world might throw at her.
Her eyes well with tears, though she heroically fights to hold them at bay.
“I just wanted to make it abundantly clear that you can’t scare me away, Bella,” I murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes snap up to me then, filled with fear and frustration...
But also an unfathomably deep longing.
Then she chooses.