"Oh—welcome back, Mavis."
Her voice was soft, composed, but not cold. A few weeks ago, Seraphina barely spoke to her unless necessary. Now she was the one initiating conversation. Mavis found herself smiling back.
"Hey," Mavis said, dropping her things to the floor. "Long day?"
Seraphina exhaled, setting her quill down. "Long week."
They both laughed lightly—a small sound, comfortable in the quiet room.
Mavis plopped onto her bed and reached into her pocket, pulling out Sigurd. The little bear's arms were crossed, his stitched brow furrowed.
"Put me down gently, woman," his voice snapped in her mind. "Not like a potato."
Mavis rolled her eyes and ignored him.
But when she looked up—
Seraphina was staring.
Not at her.
At Sigurd.
Her eyes brightened with awe, the same way someone might look at a rare gem or a newborn kitten.
"Oh my gods…" Seraphina breathed, standing from her desk. "He's adorable."
Mavis blinked. Sigurd froze.
Adorable?
"WHO?" Sigurd barked telepathically, scandalized. "ME?!"
Seraphina took a few soft steps closer.
"I've never seen a summon like that," she said, lowering herself to eye level with Sigurd. "He's so tiny. He's… fluffy. And his little face—"
Sigurd let out an outraged gasp only Mavis heard.
"FLUFFY?! I AM SIGURD THE—"
"Shh," Mavis whispered at her pocket.
Seraphina's gaze shifted to her, cheeks slightly flushed with excitement.
"May I hold him?" she asked.
And when her hand reached forward, Mavis instinctively reached at the same time—her fingers brushing Seraphina's.
The touch was light. Barely anything.
But the tiny shock that ran up Mavis's arm felt like someone struck a match in her veins.
Seraphina froze too.
Their eyes met.
For a single heartbeat, the air felt too warm. Too close. Too still.
Then Seraphina gently cupped Sigurd with both hands, lifting him carefully, reverently, like he was something precious.
Mavis nearly choked seeing the legendary hero squirm helplessly as Seraphina unknowingly squeezed his face.
"Oh he's so cute," Seraphina beamed, cheeks warming. "He has little eyebrows. And a little snout. And his fur is so soft—"
"I WILL BITE HER," Sigurd hissed in Mavis's mind.
"No you won't," Mavis hissed back.
Seraphina giggled—an actual giggle—still admiring Sigurd like he was a collectible.
Mavis didn't mean to laugh, but it bubbled out of her anyway. It was soft and helpless.
Seraphina blinked, confused. "What? What's funny?"
And before her mind could stop her mouth—
"Nothing," Mavis said lightly. "You're just cute."
The silence was immediate.
Painfully immediate.
Seraphina stared at her.
Not offended. Not amused.
Just… stunned.
Her eyes widened a fraction, scanning Mavis's face as if she was trying to decide if she heard correctly.
Then—slow, soft—a pink flush bloomed across her cheeks. Not overwhelming, but impossible to miss.
Mavis's stomach dropped so hard she almost fainted.
I did NOT just call the princess cute.
Seraphina cleared her throat and very carefully set Sigurd onto Mavis's lap.
"Thank you… for letting me hold him," she said quietly, voice steadier than the embarrassed flicker in her eyes. "He's… um. Fascinating."
She turned quickly, returning to her desk with a speed that suggested she herself was unsure what expression her face might be making.
Mavis sat frozen.
Sigurd, now free, climbed up to Mavis's shoulder and whispered dryly:
"Well. Someone is cooked."
Mavis buried her burning face into both hands.
She was never letting her mouth speak before her brain again.
Probably.