At last, Nana said, “You like Ren a lot, don’t you?”
“I do,” Pansy confirmed with a nod. “They’re… they’re special to me. More special than they probably know, in fact.” As she spoke, her hand drifted up to the skull, ever-present at her throat. No sooner had her fingers curled around it than she found herself smiling, warmth buoying her up from the inside.
Because Renlikedher. The necklace was proof of that. Yes, perhaps liking alone wasn’t enough, their circumstances being what they were. But Ren had trusted her enough to bring herhere, and Pansy – Pansy wanted to show them that thatmeantsomething to her, something that words alone couldn’t express. A halfling might have cooked something or taken care of the washing or done some other practical chore that conveyed care and closeness, but a goblin, Pansy had come to realize, often gave gifts, small tokens that seemed to say,I saw this and thought of you.
“I’d like to trade for one of these crowns,” Pansy said abruptly. “Do you like pumpkin pie? I baked it fresh this afternoon!”
Nana blinked at her. “What could you possibly want with one of these?”
“I want to give one to Ren. To show them just how important they are to me.”
The old goblin let out a soft chuckle at that, her wrinkles growing more pronounced as her lips stretched into a small but genuine smile. “I don’t think they’ll have much doubt about that if you do.”
“Perfect! So, does a slice of pie work? Honestly, I can give you the whole thing if you feel that’d be more fair. Granted, a couple of slices are already missing.”
“Oh, no, no,” Nana said, waving off her offer with one hand. “I don’t sell these crowns. The happiness they bring is more than enough payment for me.”
“Are you sure?” Pansy pressed. “I mean, I feel similarly when I see someone enjoy my cooking.”
“Take it, Nana,” Thorn said, suddenly appearing at Pansy’s side. This time, his entrance was heralded by neither frenzied shouting nor shattered objects, rendering it all the more unexpected. “If you don’t eat it, I will.”
“Thorn!” Pansy jumped, the shock kicking hard against her ribcage. “I thought you had a stand to tend to.”
Thorn shrugged. “I sensed something interesting was happening, and apparently I was right.” He grinned, his gaze pointedly dropping to the crown Nana had retrieved from her pile.
“I think Ren will like this one,” she said, passing one made of rust-colored hydrangeas, yellow begonia and oak leaves into Pansy’s hands. “And don’t worry about me. I’m too old for sweets these days. You can go ahead and give the pie to Thorn. I’ve no doubt he’ll enjoy it enough for both of us.”
“Don’t mind if I do!” Thorn declared, already moving to liberate the remaining slices from Pansy’s basket.
Months ago, this might have offended Pansy, registering as nothing more than another example of “rude” goblins understanding nothing of manners. Now, she found Thorn’s enthusiasm – and the gusto with which he wolfed down each slice – somewhat endearing.
And maybe, on some level, so did Ren, now returned, given the way their mouth twitched before they said, “You’re going to turnintoa pumpkin pie at this rate.”
Thorn retorted with something that might’ve been “No, I won’t”, but had otherwise been rendered unintelligible due to an imbalance in the ratio of pie to mouth-space.
Turning to Pansy, Ren held up a surprisingly scant bundle of what she assumed was Cold Flower. “The herbalist was a jerk. Demanded two vials of growth potion in exchange for this pittance, but I managed to get his remaining stock in the end.” They grinned, the flash of triumph across their face hitting Pansy like a bolt to the chest.
All the more certain that this was something she wanted to do, she thrust the crown out towards Ren. “Here,” she said, barely able to stay still as every inch of her buzzed withanticipation. “This is for you.”
Ren blinked at the flower crown now occupying the space between them, seemingly stunned by the fact that Pansy had offered them a gift. “Are you sure?” they asked after a long beat, looking over at her with eyes full of uncertainty, but also hope.
“Of course I’m sure, silly,” Pansy said with a soft laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re special to me too, Ren, and I want you to know it.”
Ren was kissing her before she even knew it, lips crashing against hers with such desperate want that it almost hurt. She let out a gasp, largely muffled by the all-consuming heat of Ren’s mouth. The ground lurched beneath her, sending her scrabbling for purchase against Ren’s back, fingers twisting in the loose fabric of their tunic. They were tipping her back, she realized, arms sweeping around her waist with surprising strength. Someone, somewhere, let out a hooting cheer; Thorn, probably, Pansy guessed, the thought hardly more than a distant bubble as she sank into the depths of Ren, their warmth, their smell, the way they seemed to fit against her perfectly. In that moment, there was nothing beyond them.
When Ren finally pulled away, a handful of heartbeats or an eon later, Pansy nearly whined at the loss, her grip on their shoulders turning all the more desperate, insistent. But they weren’t alone, even less so now than before. And Pansy quickly shoved aside the heat building in the very depths of her belly in favor ofsomesemblance of decorum. That wasn’t to say it was easy – especially once she caught sight of Ren, breathing heavily beside her, their lips dark and wet and gleaming.
Gods, they looked positivelywrecked.
Thankfully, Thorn was there to douse the fire that flared back to life inside her, clapping two large hands on either oftheir shoulders as he said, “So, are we thinking about a summer wedding, then?”
“Wedding?” Pansy repeated breathlessly, the word dragging her right back to the cold, hard earth without mercy.
“Oh, yeah!” Thorn grinned. “I’ve always wanted to go to a halfling wedding. I hear they’rewild!”
He might have said something more – about goblin weddings or summer weddings or some other sort of wedding – but Pansy was no longer listening. Her head swam, lost in the panicked thrum of her own pulse. Had she just accidentally proposed? It was just supposed to be a gift!
It’s called a “Union Crown”, dummy. Of course it’s a proposal, sneered a voice from the back of her mind, a reminder that instantly left her feeling foolish. Because Thornhadcalled it that. How could she have missed it?
