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"Let’s see," said Vex, running her fingers through Keyleth’s hair. "You’d be… the princess of a faraway kingdom, and I’d be a poor poacher who caught a glimpse of you during one of my hunts."
Keyleth shifted a little, to nestle her body more snuggly against Vex’s, to rest her head more comfortably on Vex’s shoulder.
"Is that all it would take?" she asked. "Just a glimpse and then. Bam! In love?"
"Yes, because your father has been cursed. So that, hmm… his daughter would break his heart by refusing every proper suitors."
"That’s the curse?"
"Yes."
"It’s a pretty mild one."
"You’d think so, but kings really care about their bloodline."
Keyleth giggled:
"An architect would have just been like yeah this sucks a bit, I guess."
"But for a king it’s pretty much the end of the world. And your fictional dad is a dick."
"He’s all, woe is me, my daughter wants things for herself!"
"See? What a dick."
"Woe!" cried Keyleth, and then she kissed Vex on the jaw. "Woe!" A kiss on the cheek. "Woe, I tell you!" A quick kiss on the lips.
They laughed, not so much because the King’s lament was funny, but because the moment was sweet, and laughing made it sweeter. Neither of them could have told how those little storytelling games had begun, but it had become a beloved ritual. It was nice, sometimes, to be someone else. Someone whose problems they would never have to face.
"So you’re in love with me. How do I fall in love with you?"
"I start leaving you gifts on your balcony. Under the cover of the night…"
"You sneak into the castle!"
"Avoid the guards."
"Climb the vines adorning my tower!"
"… and put down a few trinkets I made for you."
Having heard his name, Trinket put his big muzzle on the mattress, and there was another minute of shifting so that they could both scratch him between the ears.
"But of course, you’d want to know who’s leaving those offerings."
"So one night, I just pretend to be asleep, and catch you in the act."
"And after that, I do the same thing – sneak in the castle, avoid the guards, climb the tower - but instead we talk all night."
"That’s pretty nice."
"It is."
"I think I want to end the story there."
"Well, I was planning on being mortally wounded and dying in your arms while you swear to never love again, but… whatever you want, dear."
They fell silent for a moment, lulled by the coziness of the bed, of the room, of their closeness.
"Vex’ahlia?"
"Hmm?"
"Why am I always the princess, or the queen, or the rich chieftain?"
A pause. A light kiss on the top of Keyleth’s head:
"I just think I can pull off the dashing rogue look better, I suppose."
"You can pull off any look better."
"I beg to differ, O Voice of the Tempest. Do you really not see how people look at you?"
It was Keyleth’s turn to hum:
"And why are you always trying to end your stories in tragedy?"
"You know what, I’m not sure. I guess I just think they’ll never be as happy as we are, anyway."
"You’re right. Woe are they."
"Woe!"
"Woe, I tell you!"