There’s a game that Chen likes to play when she has the opportunity, one which she knows (from experience) drives her little Rosepetal absolutely wild: “Why don’t you introduce yourself, Petal?” She’s in the spotlight, she’s meeting someone for the first time, and all she can do is mumble and moan through her fox-packed mouth, leaving her impish girlfriend to “interpret” for her. Why, yes, they are very pretty, I agree, Petal! Yes, you are a very silly handmaiden, but you’re also very gentle and kind and sweet, don’t sell yourself short! [i]Petal,[/i] I can’t believe you’d invite them to do [i]that[/i]— but if you say so~!

Today, she ends up bowing, showing off how good she is at balancing despite being so top-heavy, and then gracefully sits down on the picnic blanket so that she can end up as a seat for both a certain rambunctious vixen who’s so happy to see her old friend and a princess who looks so, so pretty in her suit, who can’t see the lingering, adoring looks her Petal gives her, but who can feel Petal’s strong heart when she takes a seat in that perfect lap. She’s safe, admired, flustered, and playfully demeaned; what more could she ask for?

Well, she does have more to ask for. She hasn’t worked up the courage to propose, but she’s been dropping hints. One day she’s going to just end up losing her patience and she’ll pick up Chen and carry her over to a booth in the market of the Sky Castle, one run by a grandmother who sells rings made from the treasures of the Burrows, and if Chen doesn’t get that her Rosepetal really, really wants to be hers for the rest of their lives, she’ll sit on the clueless little thing!

She’s decided that, too. For the rest of their lives. The thing that was created in the Burrows as a hunter of dissidents was functionally immortal, but being Rosepetal is something too tied up with Chen, the first Princess who showed her that she could live her dreams in this beautiful twilight world. One day, one very far-off day, she’ll stop being Rosepetal when she stops having her Chen. She’ll take a new shape, a new face, and she’ll always treasure the time she got to be darling, silly, beautiful, beloved Petal.

But that’s a very long way off. So far that there’s no use spending time thinking about it when she could think about becoming a Princess. There’s so much she plans to do, when Chen founds her kingdom; as an expert on change and transformation, she’ll have her hands full helping her subjects close the gap between who they are and who they want to be. (And she might keep the title even when she’s had children, just because of how much of a target it makes her.) Rosepetal the Gentle doesn’t yet know she’s going to be called that; that she’s going to be a legendary beauty, beloved by the populace, and a prize for any up-and-coming player in the game of Princesses; she doesn’t even know (but suspects) she’s going to transition gracefully into being a Hot Mom. One day, she’ll end up being saved by (or kidnapped alongside) her own daughters.

That’s a dream she didn’t have before. The first time she ever had it, she was in Sourcefall, curled up beneath a heavy comforter and a spoiled snow leopard, the big spoon to her petite girlfriend, awake in the middle of the night, luxuriating in the warmth of Chen, the rise and fall of her breath, the pulse of blood through her body, and that’s when Rosepetal knew she wanted to have children. That Chen was safe, could be trusted, wouldn’t leave her. That Rosepetal deserved to be a mother, to bring someone into the world who wouldn’t be tainted by the stain of the Burrows in Petal’s blood, an old fear she could finally put down. That she wanted to hold her child in her arms and look after them, to see them grow, to bring something even better into the world.

Chen leans in close, lips brushing against Rosepetal’s ear. “Would you like some tea, dear?” Petal considers for a moment, then shakes her head. She’s quite happy as she is, and isn’t ready to join the conversation instead of being a topic of conversation. Chen nods, then— with the wickedest little kitten grin— reaches one hand around Petal’s shoulders and covers her scarf-swaddled mouth with one hand, holding it firm, just so she can feel Petal jump and squirm and hear the scandalous little moan of delight and see her drum her heels on the picnic blanket. There’s a vixen kneading biscuits on her thighs, there’s a wicked little Princess holding her close and keeping her sooooo quiet, there’s a wolf giggling at her and a curly-haired friend snuggling up to rest her head on one shoulder and a new friend sharing tales of bringing Princessdom to the old deep places of the world, making them shine with the light of the suns and the love all around, and Rosepetal is safe and loved, and if danger looms it isn’t her responsibility to save everyone else and then leave them behind, and everything in the whole wide world is harmonious and full of love.

And Princess Rosepetal is so, so full of love, and so, so loved, more than she thought she could ever deserve.