Chapter Text
Aguefort Adventuring Academy, Junior Year
The end of fall semester
Kipperlilly sat at the kitchen island with her elbows pulled in and her eyes set firmly on her crystal screen, scrolling through a news post she wasn’t actually reading. She barely noticed the steam rising off her breakfast. Or the fact that her perfectly brewed coffee was getting cold.
“Kip,” her mother said without looking up, sliding a second mug of coffee across the counter to where Barden usually stood reading the daily bulletin. “You’re poking at your eggs like they insulted you.”
Kipperlilly startled and looked up, realizing she’d absentmindedly moved one of the yolks into a perfect little spiral with the edge of her fork.
“Sorry,” she muttered, straightening up and adjusting her sweater vest.
Winnie gave her a sidelong glance and lifted a delicate brow. “Don’t apologize. I’m just surprised. You usually finish your eggs before I can even plate mine.”
Kipperlilly dropped her fork with a clink and reached for her coffee, taking a sip and trying to control her face over the distaste of it being so cool. She forced a shrug.
“I guess I’m just tired.”
Winnie hummed and didn’t press. Not right away, anyway. She took her seat across from Kipperlilly and tucked a napkin onto her lap. Her mother could sell a six-bedroom haunted manor to a devout paladin and somehow make it feel like it was their idea... and that was the danger with her. Winnie Copperkettle noticed everything.
“So,” her mother said, casually.. “Is it the idea of seeing your grandparents again that’s got you in knots?”
Kipperlilly’s ears twitched.
Winnie smiled knowingly over her coffee cup. “You know how Nana gets this time of year. She’ll try to feed you seventeen slices of ham and knit you another sweater with sleeves longer than your whole body.”
Kipperlilly let out a soft laugh despite herself. “She always picks yarn that clashes with everything I own.”
“She does it out of love,” Winnie said, and then, softer, “But it is… a lot of love.”
Kipperlilly leaned back in her chair and stared at the pattern in the marble of the kitchen counter. It was a perfect excuse. It gave her the out she needed.
She nodded. “Yeah. I guess that’s what it is. Just… trying to brace myself.”
Winnie’s expression softened in a way that made Kipperlilly want to squirm. “We don’t have to do a big dinner if you’re not up for it. You’ve had a long semester.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Kipperlilly said quickly. “I can handle Nana and Grandpa. I’m looking forward to seeing them. I just need to make sure I have a plan of escape when they don't want to let me go.”
Her mom gave a knowing little smirk and stood to go rinse her mug. “I’m sure you will.”
But the truth was, it wasn’t her grandparents that were making her stomach flutter like a disrupted familiars’ nest. It was Kristen.
More specifically, it was the fact that every time she caught herself smiling at her crystal like a complete moron, or daydreaming about how soft Kristen’s jacket had felt when she leaned against her shoulder in the library, she didn’t know what to do with herself.
As she had predicted, the rest of the school week had passed with grueling slowness. Classes blurred together, and the only thing that kept her from bursting into a pile of nervous energy was the sheer number of after-school commitments she had taken on. Between Yearbook deadlines, planning committee wrap-ups, and Rat Grinder training drills, she didn’t even have time to find Kristen again. Not that she wasn’t tempted.
She was always tempted.
She had been counting down the minutes to Friday evening in secret; marking off boxes in her planner with increasingly heavy black ink, and pacing in her room while pretending to be deep in academic thought when she was really just rehearsing what she might say when she showed up at Kristen’s house.
If she even had the guts to show up at all.
Kipperlilly sighed and finished her tea in two big gulps. Winnie’s voice floated down the hall from the coat hooks.
“Do you want me to pick up extra rolls for tonight?”
Kipperlilly blinked. “Tonight?”
“For dinner,” her mother called. “Your father said something about Oisin and Ivy coming over for dinner after going to the mall?”
Right. That was a thing. Kipperlilly had completely forgotten.
“Sure!” she called back. “Extra rolls are good.”
She stared at the mostly untouched plate of eggs in front of her and pushed them gently away.
She still had the rest of the day to work through, but Friday was almost here. Kipperlilly still didn’t know what exactly she wanted from all of this, or how long it would last, or what it meant, but she was tired of being afraid of wanting things.
The day dragged along slowly and instead of spending lunch with the rest of the Rat Grinders, Kipperlilly had the last committee meeting of the calendar year to sit through. The quiet annex of the library was the kind of environment where she normally thrived. Instead, her notes were a mess.
She stared at the notebook in front of her, where she’d carefully written Winter Formal Last Minute To-Do at the top in her neatest script, only to trail off halfway through the first bullet point. Her pen hovered in midair, paused above the second line like it might gain the will to write on its own. Mazey was still talking about centerpieces.
“-and we still need to finalize the centerpiece enchantments,” she said with a flip of her hair, flicking through her planning binder. “Last year’s exploded because someone used fire-based glitter, so this time we’ve gotten the senior artificers on board to—”
Kipperlilly didn’t hear the rest. Because Kristen had just wandered into her thoughts again, completely uninvited.
She hadn’t even meant to think about her. But it was impossible not to. At the beginning of the semester, she used to sit in these meetings and boil with frustration over the fact that Kristen wasn’t taking the race seriously. She hadn’t come to a single committee meeting. Didn’t help with any of the fundraisers. Barely contributed to the school in any way (other than saving it from terror).
Now? Kipperlilly was just annoyed that Kristen wasn’t here to distract her in a more productive way. Like leaning back in a chair until it nearly tipped over. Or whispering something dumb and completely out of pocket to her when she should have been listening.
Kipperlilly sighed softly and leaned back in her chair. She needed to focus. This was the last big event of the semester. The formal may have been just for seniors—but it still meant this was a major PR event for the council. She had to look like she cared.
But her mind was drifting again.
She still didn’t entirely know what to expect on Friday. Was it just to hang out? A casual debrief of the semester? Was Kristen planning something? Something more? Was Kipperlilly supposed to bring a gift? Her heart thudded at the thought.
She knew Kristen was leaving the next morning to spend Moonar Yulenea in Fallinel. One night—that was all they’d have until the new year where they would be back at school and back to whatever their twisted version of a presidential campaign had turned into. One weird, warm, possibly-kiss-filled evening. The thought of it made her stomach twist.
A gift felt excessive. Weird? She didn’t even know what Kristen liked. Sure, she liked Kristen—liked her smirk, and the warmth she had felt in the very limited one-on-one time they had spent together recently, and the way she was always fidgeting with something in her hands. But knowing a person and knowing them were two different things.
She knew Kristen fought for people. Knew she always leapt before she looked. Knew that her handwriting was awful, and that she kept a magic teddy bear in her school bag like that was a perfectly normal thing for people to do. Knew that she wore cowboy hats completely unironically and somehow, she didn't look like an idiot when she did. But did she know Kristen’s favorite kind of music? What her favorite food was? What would she even get her?
A book? Too formal. A snack? Too impersonal. A dumb little trinket? Actually… maybe that was the right idea. Kipperlilly turned the idea over in her mind as Mazey moved on to committee responsibilities for decorating. Kipperlilly was only at this meeting to show face, so she couldn't bring herself to lock in and fully commit herself to it anyway.
She could stop at one of the trinket stores in the mall. If she was sneaky, maybe she could break off from her friends for fifteen minutes without them noticing. Something small and maybe even a little stupid. That’s what Kristen would like, right? Her cheeks warmed at the thought of Kristen’s dumb, smug grin when she opened the gift. Maybe it could be something that would sit in her locker and make her think of Kipperlilly... Without anyone else seeing it and knowing where she got it from.
Something… affectionate. Not too affectionate, but it had to be something—
“Kipperlilly?”
She snapped upright in her chair. “Yes?”
Mazey blinked, then grinned. “Just checking you didn’t fall asleep with your eyes open.”
“I’m fine,” Kipperlilly said quickly, tucking her half-filled note page closer to her.
The perfect plan finally barreled its way into her brain later that day. She strode down the east hallway of the school, hands tucked casually into the strap of her bag. She looked, to anyone who passed her, like someone with a destination; a study hall, maybe, or a tightly scheduled training session with her party. And that was exactly what she wanted them to think.
What she wasn't doing, clearly, was plotting a high-level infiltration of the school’s administrative office to loot a potentially apocalyptic magical artifact. That would be ridiculous. And yet, the idea had rooted itself in her brain like a stubborn weed. The aforementioned had to be something meaningful. Something that made Kristen feel… seen.
Then she’d remembered the crown.
The Nightmare King's crown wasn’t even locked away. That was the most absurd part of it. The last time Kipperlilly had been in Aguefort’s office, (before he disappeared on one of his multidimensional time-hopping expeditions), she’d caught sight of it. Just sitting there. On a shelf. Gathering dust next to an enchanted book and a half-empty tin of cinnamon sugar almonds.
She could practically see the scene forming in her mind: Kristen unwrapping a charred sliver of obsidian, a relic of Cassandra. Not powerful enough to curse anyone. Just… a fragment. Something that might help Kristen feel like her story wasn’t over just because her god was gone.
Kipperlilly’s pace slowed as she reached the administrative wing. The halls weren’t totally abandoned, but most of the office staff had left early for their own holiday errands. Her eyes flicked up to the magical wards scrawled across the doorframe. Simple stuff. Nothing that would trigger an alarm unless the door was blown off its hinges. Amateur work, really.
She crouched down, fingers working deftly to slide a thin pick from her satchel. The lock itself clicked within seconds and eased the door open just far enough to slip inside. Just as she remembered, the office was utterly bizarre. Posters of Aguefort’s face covered one wall, all of them enchanted to blink at irregular intervals. The other side was dominated by an enormous armoire filled with items that should probably be in a museum. Or a vault. Or, frankly, in another realm altogether. Among them was the crown, just where Kipperlilly remembered it to be.
She reached up, fingers ghosting over the rim of the crown. Carefully, she pressed her palm against one of the back spires, testing its give. It wobbled just slightly, like a loose tooth. Just enough. With a deep breath, she pulled a small dagger from her belt, angled it behind the spire, and gave it a practiced twist.
She held her breath as the tiny sliver came free in her hand. A shard of crown no longer than her thumb, jagged and glinting at the edge. She wrapped it quickly in a handkerchief from her bag and tucked it away.
She'll figure out what to do with it later.
The mall was decked out in full Moonar Yulenea glory, with every store window glowing with enchanted fairy lights and faux snowflakes that shimmered as if caught mid-fall. A chorus of softly caroling dryads hovered above the central fountain, harmonizing in six-part harmony while a group of pixie teens tried to shoot mistletoe darts into a giant inflatable gelatinous cube set up for the holidays.
Kipperlilly walked alongside Ivy and Oisin, half-listening to their ongoing debate.
“They’re charming,” Oisin insisted, turning a tiny enchanted snowglobe over in his claws. Inside, a wizard in a floppy hat threw sparkles into the air as tiny griffins danced around him.
“They’re kitsch,” Ivy replied dryly as she squinted at a display of utility pocketknives with seasonal engravings.
Kipperlilly kept a step behind them, her hands jammed deep into her jacket pocket, thumb rubbing y against the soft edge of the handkerchief tucked inside. The shard of the crown was still there, nestled in secret. Her plan was simple: find a chain, maybe with a small clasp. She could hang the shard from it, box it up, and—
“Ooh,” Ivy said, suddenly pivoting toward a shop with black-tinted windows and a hanging neon sign that read Chaîne of Fools. "We should go in.”
Kipperlilly blinked. Oh.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” she said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. Her chance had presented itself. Problem was… she hadn’t exactly worked out how she’d get the chain without arousing suspicion.
The interior of Chaîne of Fools was dark and glossy and Kipperlilly took a quick sweep of the place, a little surprised to see far too many cute friendship anklets and matching ring sets that read 'Hexed' and 'Blessed'. She expected the place to have something a little... edgier.
Kipperlilly lingered near the back as Ivy and Oisin gravitated to the gaudier section. A display near the corner boasted engraved necklaces that read 'Don’t Flirt With Me, I Bite' and 'Yes, I Have a Girlfriend. She’s Stronger Than You'. She wrinkled her nose.
“Just get this for Lucy,” Ivy said, tossing a necklace at Oisin. It had a pendant shaped like a tiny ice cube that glowed faintly blue.
“That's... a little on the nose,” Oisin sniffed, but he was turning it over in his claws anyway. Kipperlilly exhaled slowly, slid toward the farthest case, and tapped her fingers on the glass. Simple chains. Gold, brass, copper... and a perfect slender silver chain.
“Need help?” came a cheerful voice.
A young tiefling with three nose rings and bright green hair popped up behind the counter, giving Kipperlilly an overly friendly grin.
“I’m good,” Kipperlilly said. Then realized how weird it looked to be standing at the far back, mumbling to herself. “Actually, uh. I need that chain. The thin silver one.”
The tiefling raised a brow. “Gift?”
“Yes,” Kipperlilly said too quickly. She could feel Ivy and Oisin’s attention shifting toward her. She cursed herself for bragging weeks ago that she was already finished with her holiday shopping. “For my guidance counselor .”
That… wasn't what she had expected to come out of her mouth. But there it was. She committed.
“He’s helped me a lot, and I thought, you know. Pendants are personal.”
There was a silence.
“That’s actually kinda sweet,” Oisin said, stepping beside her and peering over the case. “What’re you putting on it?”
Kipperlilly cleared her throat. “A small… trinket. I found something he might find sentimental."
“Weirdly thoughtful of you, Kip,” Ivy added, appearing on her other side. “But guess that means he's doing a good job at making you less of a sociopath.”
“I'm not a sociopath,” Kipperlilly muttered as she handed over a few gold coins and took the chain, delicately slipping it into the small velvet bag the tiefling offered her. She could feel Ivy watching her, but thankfully, the conversation turned as soon as Oisin spotted a case of charm bracelets and started debating whether Ruben friend would find it cool or just plain insufferable.
Kipperlilly's heart thudded against her ribs now that she had successfully gotten away with her covert mission. She tried not to be a sentimental person. But then again, didn't she have a hard time letting go of their team name? Hadn't she been the one who had been the most apprehensive about changing their image so drastically, even if she was the one who pushed for it?
She wasn’t even sure what kind of person she was when it came to feeling fluttery over getting a gift for someone special. She thought about that all the way home from the mall, ignoring how Oisin and Ivy bickered over the rangers nonchalance when it came to sentimental gift shopping in the back of the Copperkettle car.
The warmth of her family kitchen always seemed to hit differently during the holidays. The windows were slightly fogged from the heat of the oven. A few hours later, the last few scraps of dinner sat on the table: rosemary roasted chicken, glazed carrots, mashed potatoes, and the barely touched extra rolls Winnie had insisted on.
Kipperlilly sat curled in her usual spot at the corner of the table, her feet hooked over the crossbar of the chair and her fingers absently turning a water glass in slow circles. As much as she enjoyed being able to host her friends, Kipperlilly had been trying to work out the logistics of turning an artifact shard into a pendant... and if she even had all the tools she needed in her room. She hadn't even realized she’d still been disassociating until Ivy elbowed her lightly from across the table.
“You spacing out again?” Ivy teased, her brow cocked as she leaned back and stole a roll from the basket in the middle of the table. “You know, if you keep acting mysterious and distracted like that, someone’s going to start thinking you're up to something villainous.”
Kipperlilly rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time."
Across the table, Oisin looked up from where he was stacking his knife and fork neatly on his empty plate. “Someone thought that? Who?” he asked.
“Who do you think?” Ivy deadpanned, shooting him a smirk.
Winnie chuckled from where she was perched on one of the kitchen stools, swirling a glass of wine. “Well, I think that must be jealous that you're so brilliant, baby.”
“Mom,” Kipperlilly groaned, hiding her face behind her hand. “Don’t call me that.”
“Oh, please,” Ivy said through a mouthful of roll. “She just doesn’t want to admit she likes it.”
Kipperlilly glared at her, but it didn’t stick. Though Ivy’s smugness usually irritated her, it seemed that the holiday spirit was dampening her usual bite. She refused to believe it was anything to do with her more recent self discoveries.
Oisin leaned back in his chair slightly, tilting his head toward the ceiling as he sipped at his cider. “We’re leaving for Gravalvia on Monday,” he said. “My parents are taking me to see an entire side of the family I’ve never met.”
“If it's your dad's side... I would say that's deeply concerning,” Ivy said with a smirk and grabbed her glass and leaning an elbow against the table. “We're on our ‘traditional hunt’ again. Same as every year.”
“You secretly love it,” Kipperlilly said, rolling her eyes.
“I love the gear,” Ivy corrected, but the fond look on her face gave her away. “Last year he showed me how to forge my own silver-tipped arrows using a dug out forge.”
Barden, who had been quiet during the chatter, rose from his chair and started collecting plates. “Let's hope you kids don't tire yourself completely out before we all make that trip to the Mountains of Chaos.”
That was the part of winter break that Kipperlilly had really been looking forward to. They had talked about all heading up to where Lucy's family celebrated their heritage, and this year the stars finally aligned and they were all making the journey. Even the majority of parents were on board for the trip.
Oisin, carefully balancing a stack of plates in his hands. “Let me help with cleanup.”
Kipperlilly stood too. “I’ll help," she said, before shooting Ivy an expectant look.
Ivy raised both her hands. “Sorry, gotta dip. I’m in charge of picking up the elkhound jerky for the trip tomorrow so I have to grab that on the way home.”
Kipperlilly opens her mouth to point out that, of course, Ivy was leaving before having to lift a finger, but her mother was quicker to the punch.
"Tell Thorn I said happy holidays. And that we shall have to visit sometime soon. It's a shame he wont be coming with us to the mountains."
Ivy chuckles as Winnie stands to give her a hug. "You know my dad. I'll stand more of a chance multiclassing into sorcery than he would leaving Elmville."
As Ivy grabbed her bag and stepped out the front door, Kipperlilly followed Barden and Oisin into the kitchen. The sink was already filling with warm, soapy water, and Barden handed Kipperlilly a towel. She didn’t say much, just quietly dried each plate Oisin handed her.
Before long, a muffled sigh came from the formal dining room and Barden chuckled as he closed the cabinet he had just restacked with pots. "I better go help Win with those crystal candelabras. You kids got this?"
They both nodded and her dad wiped his hands and disappeared around the corner, leaving the two of them alone.
Oisin didn’t say anything for a moment. He just adjusted the water flow slightly as he rinsed off a serving dish. But Kipperlilly could feel that quiet attention Oisin had when he was trying to be delicate with something he wasn’t sure was ready to be touched.
“Is it for someone special?” he asked.
Kipperlilly blinked and looked up. “Hm?”
“The chain,” he said, without turning. His talons worked over the rim of the dish before setting it on the drying rack. “The one you bought today."
Kipperlilly’s grip tightened just a little on the towel. “It’s for Jawbone,” she said. “I told you that.”
Oisin didn’t look at her, but the corner of his snout twitched like he was trying not to smile.
“I know,” he said. “And I can tell when you’re lying.”
Kipperlilly groaned softly and grabbed the dish to dry it, not being remotely as considerate with it as Oisin had been.
“Do I know her?” he asked, quietly.
Kipperlilly paused. He asked so softly, which made her know that he was offering a way out. He wouldn't be upset if she brushed him, and the whole line of questioning off.
Kipperlilly inhaled sharply through her nose and set the dry dish in the rack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Oisin dried his hands and didn’t press. He simply nodded and turned off the faucet.
“Okay,” he said. “I get it. You’re not ready to talk about it.”
Kipperlilly kept her gaze locked on the countertop, pretending to fuss with the towel. She felt prickly all over, like her own skin was trying to warn her to shut it all down, to shut him down. But... it was Oisin.
Oisin, who had sat with her and listened to her come clean about how much she was struggling with her anger, and gotten defensive on her behalf when he had learned about Porter. Oisin, who was the only one of her friends she had actually admitted her sexuality to. Oisin, who would never, never, make her feel small for something that made her heart race.
“When you are,” he said, softly, “I’m always here to listen, Kip. About anything.”
That made her look up just enough to see him standing beside her, the edge of his sleeves damp and rolled past his elbows. He wasn’t looking at her: he was looking at the stack of plates, like they were the most interesting thing in the world. But she knew him. She knew that was his way of giving her space, so she could make the next move.
“I know,” she said eventually. “Thanks, Oisin.”
He nodded once, without looking up. “Anytime.”
The final bell rang out on Friday, but Kipperlilly didn’t bolt from her seat. She packed her bag slowly, checking and rechecking her things, not because she needed to, but because her heart was racing and her palms felt like they’d been dunked in a pot of nervous sweat.
She made it through the last school day of the semester, and all she had to do now was head home, get all of her ducks in a row... and finally see Kristen and stop these incessant thoughts from completely overtaking her entire brain.
When she did, her parents didn’t ask questions when she told them she was going out. That alone felt like a small miracle. Maybe they assumed she was training with the Rat Grinders again, or maybe they thought she was spending the night with at Lucy's to watch movie after movie at Lucy's insistence. Either of those answers would’ve been easier to explain.
She’d texted Kristen before breakfast to ask if they were still planning to see each other that night. Kristen responded a few minutes later with a flood of emojis: sparkles, hearts, a frog for some reason? All of which seemed aggressively enthusiastic. Kipperlilly stared at the screen for a full thirty seconds trying to decode it.
The walk from her house to Mordred Manor passed very quickly, thanks to the way Kipperlilly was so stuck in her head, she barely registered the streets she passed. The house loomed with its crooked chimney stacks and ivy-covered walls. Kipperlilly had been here before. Twice, actually. Once, for her emergency session with Jawbone... and once more, when she was spying on Kristen. (That one still made her cringe.)
This time, she was here because she wanted to be. Because Kristen wanted her here. Because, apparently, this weird, funny, annoyingly warm person had somehow become someone Kipperlilly… liked being around. And that was terrifying.
Keeping to the shadows, she crept along the gravel path, ducking under the overgrown archway that led toward the old chapel where Kristen's bedroom was... if you could call it that. Kipperlilly did wonder if that was some kind of inside joke—putting Kristen Applebees in a decommissioned church that was probably a callback to her Helioic days. It suited her, though. It was different.
She reached the chapel door and paused. Her heart beat against her ribs and Kipperlilly just stood there, staring at the wood. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated, then did it quickly: three short taps before she lost her nerve.
The door creaked open a moment later, and there Kristen was. Hair askew like she'd been wrestling with gravity. A goofy, open grin that made Kipperlilly's stomach do a weird little somersault. Her body leaned slightly sideways like she hadn’t figured out how to stand still yet, as awkward and endearing as ever. Kipperlilly felt her lips twitch into a smile before she could stop them.
But then she saw the state of the room behind her.
“Oh my god, Kristen,” she blurted, the words escaping before she had time to filter them. “It’s worse than I imagined.”
It wasn’t just messy. It was disaster-level messy. Books were stacked in unstable towers, clothes draped over pews, socks in teacups, and what looked like three half-melted candles stuck into a bowl of cereal. A pair of boots dangled from the rafters by their laces and the whole room smelled of something that was a little too reminiscent of old pizza. Kipperlilly had imagined it wouldn’t be tidy. But this?
Kristen laughed and stepped aside to let her in. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
Kipperlilly raised an eyebrow, stepping delicately over a mountain of crumpled clothes.
“You didn’t warn me. You said ‘it’s a little messy,’ not ‘it looks like a dragon exploded in here.’”
She reached the center of the room, turned slowly, taking it all in. A gay flag hung crooked on the wall, half-finished school notes littered the floor but despite it being a warzone, it was so uniquely Kristen, that Kipperlilly couldn't quite bring herself to hate it.
Kristen closed the door behind them and shrugged. “It’s lived-in.”
Kipperlilly snorted, unable to help herself.
She wanted to snoop. Every inch of the room tugged at her rogue instincts. Kristen was the type of person who left pieces in her wake that were just shouting to get pieced together to reveal a story. A glance at a half-scrawled journal entry. A note tacked to the wall. A broken symbol of... something tucked inside a drawer. But Kipperlilly didn’t need to rifle through Kristen’s life like it was one of her beloved assignments. She was here because Kristen wanted her to be. That thought settled warm in her chest.
Instead, she reached into her satchel and tugged out the small bundle wrapped in cloth. She felt her lips twitch, just a little, into something almost smug.
“Well,” she said, eyeing the clutter with mock disapproval, “since you obviously need help managing some parts of your life, I brought you something.”
Kristen blinked. Her loose tank slipped off one shoulder, exposing a constellation of freckles trailing down her arm. She looked ridiculously dense... and kind of beautiful.
“For me?”
“Yeah,” Kipperlilly said, suddenly self-conscious. “I figured you’re away for Moonar Yulenea. Just… open it.”
Kristen took the bundle carefully. She watched as she started to work at the knot slowly, like she knew there was something important inside. As the silver chain spilled out, catching what little light there was in the room, Kipperlilly’s stomach clenched. The shard dangled, blackened at the edges, jagged and toothy. A piece of the thing Kristen had died fighting. Was this all a terrible idea? Kipperlilly’s mouth felt dry.
For a second, Kristen didn’t say anything. Just stared. Her eyes traced the length of the pendant, following the chain between her fingers. She didn’t look up and Kipperlilly cleared her throat.
“I stole it from Aguefort’s office,” she said, her smirk only half-hearted. “It’s a piece from the crown of the Nightmare King. Thought you could use a little piece of it to keep Cassandra close.”
Kristen’s hand stilled. Her thumb swept over the shard’s uneven edge, and for a moment, her whole face changed. Something passed behind her eyes, soft and shadowed, and Kipperlilly couldn’t place it. That made her nervous.
Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe it was too much. Maybe it was cruel to bring back something from that time. She hadn’t meant it like that. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her. She just... wanted her to have a piece of it.
“I…” Kristen started, but her voice faltered.
Kipperlilly watched as Kristen swallowed, still not meeting her gaze. Her shoulders curled slightly inward. Kipperlilly didn’t move, she just watched. Then, slowly, she realized Kristen wasn’t angry. She wasn’t horrified or even sad. She was… moved. Something in her posture had tenderized. And that tenderness cracked something open in Kipperlilly so fast it made her knees weak.
Kristen finally looked up. “Thank you… But I haven’t gotten you anything.”
Kipperlilly shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”
She meant it. This, whatever it was between them, it hadn’t come with rules. They hadn’t made promises or said things out loud. But Kipperlilly didn’t need to be promised anything to want to give her something that mattered. Finally, Kristen laughed and brushed her hair behind her ear with a hand that was still shaking just a little.
“Oh, I’ll find something from Fallinel.”
Kipperlilly rolled her eyes, though her stomach fluttered like someone had just cast Gust of Wind through her midsection.
“Something tells me you’re a terrible gift shopper.”
“I’m not!”
But the grin on her face said otherwise, wide and bright and painfully genuine. Kipperlilly wanted to be annoyed by how much it charmed her. It would’ve been easier if Kristen wasn’t so completely adorable when she was trying to defend her honor. But no. Of course her rival-slash-sort-of-maybe-more-than-friend had to be charming even when she was wrong.
“Sure, you aren’t.”
Kipperlilly stepped forward and reached out, grazing her fingers lightly against Kristen’s wrist. Her skin was warm, and Kipperlilly’s touch lingered.
“Speaking of gifts…”
She could hear her own heartbeat. She could feel it in her ears, in her fingertips. This was bold. She knew it. But there was no one here to see. No library shelves to duck behind. No looming threat of someone noticing. Just her and Kristen.
Kristen tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing in that curious, eternally unassuming way.
“You’ve got more?”
Kipperlilly didn’t answer. Not with words. Just let a smirk curl at the corners of her mouth.
“Not exactly something I can wrap.”
She rose onto her toes, hands settling against Kristen’s sides as she closed the distance between them. The kiss came easy, easier than she expected. Like gravity took over.
And Kristen (sweet, flustered, infuriating Kristen) didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her waist and kissed back, and the world narrowed to the feeling of it. The warmth. The press. The way it made her forget everything else. The kiss deepened like the swell of a wave, crashing over everything else.
Kipperlilly had kissed Kristen in three different instances before. But those kisses had been fleeting or clumsy things built on impulse and nerves. This wasn’t like those. This was so much worse in the best way. She poured the week’s worth of frustration into it. The nights she’d stayed up too late thinking about Kristen’s smile, the afternoons where she’d gotten distracted in extracurricular meetings because she couldn't stop thinking about this moment. All of it came rushing out now in the way she kissed her. Eager, focused, a little too much.
And it was so much.
Because Kristen kissed her back with the same energy. Pulled her close, almost tripping over her feet in the process. Kipperlilly barely registered the way her own body leaned, how Kristen lost her balance, or how they both toppled backwards onto the bed until it was already happening. The mattress creaked loudly under them, the old frame groaning in protest, but Kipperlilly didn’t care. Didn’t even flinch.
They landed tangled, her on top, her hands braced on either side of Kristen’s shoulders, and for once the ridiculous height difference didn’t feel like a hindrance. Kristen didn’t stop. If anything, she leaned up into it, lips parting against Kipperlilly’s own, and when her tongue brushed against Kipperlilly’s mouth, Kipperlilly couldn’t help herself. She let her in.
Heat rushed through her, quick and dizzying. Her heart thudded loud enough that she was pretty sure Kristen could hear it. Her fingers clenched in the soft fabric of Kristen’s sweatshirt, and god, this girl was going to be the end of her.
When they finally pulled apart, their breaths came ragged. Kipperlilly hovered above her, and all she could do was stare.
Kristen looked up at her, pink-cheeked and wild-haired, eyes glazed and lips kiss-bitten. Her pupils were blown wide and she looked starved. The sight of her made something tight coil low in Kipperlilly’s stomach.
She cleared her throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “I figured it was time to stop dancing around it.”
Kristen just blinked. Kipperlilly would have bet gold that the cleric had forgotten how sentences worked.
“Yeah, about time.”
There was something ridiculous about how flustered Kristen looked, but also deeply satisfying. Because Kipperlilly felt like that all the time around her, and now… she wasn’t the only one. So she kissed her again. Because how could she not?
This one was softer. Not slower necessarily, but sweeter. Like permission and confession all in one. She shifted slightly, sliding further onto Kristen’s hips to straddle her. Her hands settled at either side of her shoulders. Kristen’s body was so warm beneath her, her skin flushed where Kipperlilly had touched it.
Kristen’s hands slid up Kipperlilly’s sides, fingers dragging over the fabric of her shirt, bunching it slightly as they went. Her hands found the small of Kipperlilly’s back, resting there like an anchor. Strong but not demanding, just there. And that was almost worse. That gentle hold made Kipperlilly want to dissolve.
She could do this for hours. Could spend whole days in the quiet rush of it: lips brushing, hands exploring, breaths mingling between open mouths kissing.
Kristen’s lips moved, trailing away from her mouth, down the curve of her jaw. Soft, careful kisses that left Kipperlilly breathless. One pressed just below her earlobe and her breath hitched, goosebumps blooming across her skin. Then Kristen found a spot just below her ear. Kipperlilly didn’t know she was that sensitive there—had no idea—but her body reacted before she could think. A low, embarrassing sound broke from her throat, half-gasp, half-moan, and she immediately stiffened in surprise.
Her fingers tangled in Kristen’s hair, pulling her in without thinking. She didn’t want her to stop. She wasn’t sure she could want that. Her mind buzzed with static. Her body was fire and nerves and instinct. She didn’t know what this was or what she wanted from it, only that she wanted more. Kristen’s hands traveled lower, skimming the hem of her shirt. And then—
A warm palm slid over her hip. Downward to her butt... and squeezed. Kipperlilly gasped. The sensation sent a jolt through her spine. It wasn’t forceful, it wasn’t even inappropriate, not really. But it was enough to snap her back to herself.
That’s where this was going?
Her brain scrambled. She hadn’t thought about this. She hadn’t planned for… that. Not tonight. Maybe not anytime soon. Maybe not ever. And the part that scared her most? She wanted it. A lot. And that made everything way more confusing. But it was too fast, too much.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed Kristen’s wrist and pulled her hand gently away, breaking the kiss with a sharp inhale. Kristen looked up at her, dazed and blinking, cheeks flushed. Her lips were still parted, a little swollen, and her brow furrowed in sudden confusion. She looked like she couldn’t form words yet.
Kipperlilly forced a small smile, sitting up slightly, her hands still resting on Kristen’s hips. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to breathe like a person who was not overwhelmed. Kristen, of all people, could not get through to her this easily. At least... not any more than she already had. So she resorted to her smarts.
“You have to get up early.”
Kristen blinked at her, brows drawing together.
“What?”
Kipperlilly raised an eyebrow. “Saturday morning teleports are always early. You need to sleep.”
Kristen made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan and let her head fall back into the pillows. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo, which felt dangerously ironic.
“How do you always know everything?”
Kipperlilly leaned back with a slow exhale, shifting her weight off Kristen’s hips and planting her hands carefully on the bed. The springs beneath them creaked again as she slid to the edge. She stood, already brushing the creases out of her shirt, like she needed to reassemble herself into something less disheveled. Less obvious.
Kristen’s cracked mirror leaned against the far wall, smudged with fingerprints and a streak of something that might’ve been paint, or ink or... who knew, honestly. Kipperlilly made her way over to it, fingers moving to smooth her shirt, adjust the hem, pat down the halo of flyaways around her ponytail.
Behind her, Kristen shifted on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows, watching. Kipperlilly could feel it. She wasn't just being glanced at. Not half-seen. Looked at. Her stomach flipped. She bit the inside of her cheek, pretending she didn’t notice, even though Kristen’s gaze was loud as a drumbeat.
Of course she noticed. Kristen was leering, and doing a terrible job of hiding it. It wasn’t even subtle. Her reflection in the mirror showed Kristen with her chin in her hand, a soft, lazy grin tugging at her lips. It made Kipperlilly’s breath catch in her throat for half a second before she schooled her face back into calm.
Because seriously. Seriously. Kristen Applebees had been all over Spyre. She had visited beautiful ancient places in Fallinel, traversed forests no one else had been into for years, travelled through the expansive red waste with literally nothing but the blazing sun un the horizon. Yet she was looking at Kipperlilly like this? Like she was something rare and glittering and spellbound? It was absurd... and it made her want to smile.
She let herself tidy her ponytail one more time, fingers nimble as she pulled the tie free, smoothed the strands back, and redid it tighter. It was almost funny how much she’d initially worried about Kristen going back to Fallinel over break. How much she hated that idea. Of Kristen seeing her ex again.
But the truth was right here, sprawled out in bed with crooked teeth and that messy blonde hair and the most infuriatingly genuine eyes in the world. Kristen looked wrecked. Soft, unmade, rumpled in the best way. And Kipperlilly couldn’t believe how fast the sight had gone from nauseating to... well, not bad at all. In fact, if she was honest, it was very appealing.
She didn’t want to leave.
It wasn’t just that Kristen looked good. Or that the kisses were so good Kipperlilly was seriously considering talking to Jawbone about the potential that she had completely lost her mind in addiction. It was everything. Just being around Kristen. The safety of it. The feeling that maybe she could let herself be soft for once.
But the night was ticking away. Kristen would be gone by morning. Teleporting out with the others to somewhere that didn’t have a single Solesian tower for miles. No phone calls. No texting. No blasé checking in. Just silence for three whole weeks.
Kipperlilly already missed her. And Kristen hadn’t even left yet.
“You could stay over," Kristen blurted out from behind her.
Kipperlilly blinked at her reflection. For a second, she thought she’d imagined it. There was no way Kristen could read her mind. Probably. She turned slowly, meeting Kristen’s gaze in the mirror. Kristen looked almost bashful now, like she hadn’t expected the words to come out quite like that. Her head was tilted, a hopeful smile dancing at the edge of her mouth.
Kipperlilly didn’t answer right away. Did she want to stay over?
Her parents wouldn’t care. If anything, they’d be happy that she was actually having a good time for the holidays. They’d assume she was at Lucy’s. Or with any of the other Rat Grinders. It wasn't like Adaine, Fig or even Jawbone would just walk in and find her there. They were probably already asleep so they could be up early in the morning for the trip. The chapel was tucked away. No one would see her come morning. No one would know. It was just a sleepover.
Not a big deal. Right? Totally innocent.
Her hand moved before she could think about it, tugging the hair tie free again. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulders.
“Have you got any clothes I can sleep in?”
She kept her tone breezy, though her chest was tightening again. A little smile tugged at her lips. Kristen wanted her here.
Kristen’s whole face lit up. “Yeah, of course!”
She practically launched herself off the bed, scrambling toward her dresser. Clothes went flying: some onto the floor, one sock bouncing off the edge of a chair. She rummaged with no system at all, humming something tuneless under her breath until she finally turned around with a victorious grin, holding out a bundle. Kipperlilly took it with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
“But no funny business,” she said, leveling a finger at her with mock sternness. “Turn around.”
Kristen laughed, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright.”
She spun and flopped onto the bed, facing away, already scrolling through her crystal after scrabbling her way under the blanket like Kipperlilly wasn't even there.
Kipperlilly rolled her eyes and let out a quiet breath. She changed quickly, peeling off her normal school attire, replacing them with what Kristen had offered: soft basketball shorts, far too big, and a t-shirt so bright it felt like a medical hazard. Tie-dye, with ‘Harvest Camp’ printed across the front in faded white letters, half-flaked away. Of course it was a church camp shirt.
She stared at herself in the mirror again for a moment, brushing her blonde hair back from her face. She remembered Kristen wearing a shirt just like this one freshman year, back when she thought Kristen was annoying and weird and a little too eager for her own good. Now, she looked at the shirt and felt… oddly comforted.
Funny how things change.
Kipperlilly padded softly across the creaky floorboards, the shorts threatening to slide off her hips with each step. It wasn’t her usual sleepwear, but she had to admit, it was kind of cozy. Stupidly cozy. She hesitated at the edge of the bed. Just for a moment.
She’d shared beds before. Plenty of times. She and Lucy always crashed in the same bed when they were at the Frostblade house. It made sense, seeing as Lucy's bed was so large and Kipperlilly barely took up any room in it. Of course, the same couldn't be said for Lucy ever being able to sleep in Kipperlilly's halfling sized bed at her place. With Lucy, it had never felt weird. She’d known Lucy since middle school. There was history there.
This was different. This was Kristen’s bed. Kristen Applebees’ bed.
Kipperlilly pulled back the covers as casually as she could and slid in. Maybe if she moved slowly enough, it wouldn’t feel like such a big deal. Maybe she could trick herself into believing this was just another regular night with a friend.
But the second she sank into the mattress, she was hit with the smell. Kristen’s smell. Warm and sweet and foresty, like old candles and clean sweat and something just faintly divine. Not overwhelming, but definitely there. Kipperlilly turned over onto her side, her back to Kristen, trying to settle.
She stared into the darkness and immediately regretted it. The awkwardness of the moment crept into her skin like a slow fog. This had been a mistake. Too intimate. Too much. She could feel her heart beating too fast, as though her own body was accusing her of overstepping.
Until Kristen moved without any of her same hesitation. She shifted close and wrapped an arm around Kipperlilly’s waist, not gentle but not rough either... but with a certainty. She pulled her in, tucked her in, until Kipperlilly’s back was flush with her front and they fit together as though they had been carved that way.
Kipperlilly exhaled, her shoulders dropped and her hands found Kristen’s without thinking, fingers resting over hers. She felt Kristen bury her face in the crook of her hair, just above her nape, warm breath tickling her skin. The steady rise and fall of Kristen’s chest against her back slowed her pulse. The sheets rustled as Kristen settled in behind her.
For the first time in a long while, her brain quieted.
So this was what it felt like…
To not have every thought crashing against the next like a hailstorm. To not be calculating her next move, or chewing through her own emotions like gristle. This was stillness. This was (annoyingly) Kristen.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Kristen mumbled, muffled by hair, “but I’m gonna miss you while I’m away.”
Kipperlilly rolled her eyes. She was glad Kristen couldn’t see her do it, because it was exactly the kind of unbearably sincere thing she’d expect from her. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh. Admitting she’d miss her back? Not a chance.
“You’re only gone for winter break,” Kipperlilly said instead, in the way she always defaulted to. “Just don’t go getting yourself killed. I’ll have to get Lucy to bring you back—just so I can kill you again.”
She felt Kristen’s body shake with a breathy laugh behind her. “Is that a promise?”
“Idiot.”
But the word came out soft, and Kristen would be able to hear the smile in her voice.
Kristen’s hands shifted beneath hers, fingers curling slightly, playing with the edge of the shirt. Her thumb traced idle little arcs just below the hem, brushing Kipperlilly’s skin in a way that wasn't even intentional, just something to do with her hands. Completely thoughtless and Kipperlilly let it happen.
They settled into silence again. Not awkward, not heavy. Just full. Kristen’s arm was still around her, holding her in place. It was a lot. Kristen was bigger than her, taller and broader and solid in a way that could have been suffocating. And yet... it wasn’t. It was good. It was nice.
Kipperlilly closed her eyes. But just as she let her breath slow, she felt Kristen’s fingers wander.
They moved higher. Just a little. Not a grab this time, not an attempt to sneak anything. It was a tentative brush, like maybe Kristen was asleep and dreaming. Maybe not. The touch hovered, featherlight, venturing just close enough to make Kipperlilly’s eyes snap open.
Nope.
Her hand shot up grabbing Kristen’s hand and pulling it away with a swift little jerk. Absolutely incorrigible. Kristen gave a soft, almost sheepish laugh behind her.
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
Kipperlilly should have been mad.
Maybe another version of her would’ve been. One that hadn’t already fallen a little for Kristen in all the worst ways. But she knew Kristen: knew how she flirted without thinking, how she was always touchy, always affectionate, always the one reaching out. It was in her nature. It would’ve been more surprising if she hadn’t tried to get handsy.
She rolled over slightly, just enough to face Kristen in the dark. Her hand found Kristen’s again, and this time she laced their fingers together. She tugged Kristen’s hand close, pressing it gently to her chest, right over her heart to hold it there. Kristen started rubbing her thumb in soft circles over the back of Kipperlilly’s hand.
It made her breath catch, but not in a bad way. Not at all.
Kipperlilly’s fingers stayed curled around Kristen’s, the warmth between their palms spreading up her arm and into her chest. The huff of Kristen’s breath against her collarbone made her all too aware of how close they were, how soft the moment had become without either of them trying to make it that way.
Her body, usually coiled like a spring, always ready to argue, to run, to fight, started to unspool in the dark. Kristen’s arms wrapped around her like a blanket that had already found the shape of her shoulders. And god, she was so warm. Practically radiating heat, like her body couldn’t decide whether she was a cleric or a campfire. If Kipperlilly didn’t know better, she’d have checked for a fever.
She resisted the urge to nuzzle closer. Barely. She could already feel the line of Kristen’s thigh pressing into her own, the press of her shoulder, the brush of her breath just behind her ear. Any closer, and she’d disappear entirely.
And yet… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
She tilted her head back just slightly, glancing at the shadowed outlines of Kristen’s room. The glow from the high stained-glass windows bled moonlight into the space in rippled streaks of green, blue, and soft red. Each panel threw colored light across the dust-flecked air, painting the room like a storybook.
The chaos of Kristen’s life: the clothes, the books, the absolute chaos with zero organization should’ve annoyed her. It did annoy her, a little. But even the mess felt… comforting. Like this room didn’t ask anyone to be anything other than themselves. Kristen’s mess was honest. Just like her.
Kipperlilly shifted slightly in her arms.
“Kristen?” she whispered.
There was a beat of silence. Long enough that she thought Kristen had fallen asleep.
Then, a sleepy hum: “Hmm?”
Her voice was slurred with drowsiness, definitely on the edge of unconsciousness.
“You’ve gotta clean your room before I stay over again.”
Kristen’s lips twitched against her hair.
“Deal.”
The word was lazy but real. Kipperlilly felt it settle in her ribcage like a little stone. She couldn’t help the grin that followed, quiet and private and just for herself.
She let her head fall more fully onto the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut. Her breath fell into rhythm with Kristen’s, and her heartbeat, too, gradually stopped racing in her chest. She hadn’t expected to sleep tonight. She really hadn’t. She’d come prepared for restlessness, for lying stiff as a board beside someone who took up too much space. She was ready to go over plans for snare traps until the sun came up.
But she was warm. Kristen’s arms were around her. Her chest was rising and falling in time with hers. The faint scent of Kristen’s stupid shampoo was clouding every corner of her thoughts. There was no room left for worry... and Kristen was starting to snore. Just a little.
Kipperlilly let out a quiet exhale that might have been a laugh. She melted into the mattress and into the girl holding her, and for once, her mind didn’t try to pull her out of it. For once, she let it happen.
She was asleep before she could even try to stop it.