Have some fluffy FrinFran~
“She’s a cuddly one.”
Francesca looks up. Fringilla stands at the edge of the room, one hand on the doorway. Her face is bright and soft, like a spring sun, as she smiles at the little girl in Francesca’s arms.
She can’t help it- she smiles too. “That she is,” Francesca murmurs, turning her gaze back to her daughter, who’s started chewing gummily at her dress. She brushes Liserne’s cheek with her fingers and feels her heart ache when the babe blinks hazily up at her. “I’m going to miss it when she grows older.”
“You don’t think she’ll remain cuddly?” Francesca shifts, just enough for Fringilla to take the invitation and slip under the blankets with her.
“You think she will, then?” she asks, feeling Fringilla lean over her shoulder.
Fringilla hums. “It’s a possibility,” she says, adjusting Liserne’s blanket so that it covers her head again. “The well-loved ones often are.”
She does not ask if Fringilla knows this because she was well-loved or because she felt the lack. She thinks she knows the answer.
Instead, she shifts closer and gently lays her head on Fringilla’s shoulder. The mage stiffens at first, but quickly relaxes, even going as far as to rest her own head on top of Francesca’s.
“She likes you,” Francesca says when Liserne blinks up at Fringilla. “I think she knows you saved her life.”
“You could have done the same.” Fringilla plays with the ends of the baby blanket, fingers shifting over the knotted ends. “It was just warmth, Francesca.”
“Mm.” Francesca nudges her gently. “Maybe. But you were the one who did. I don’t know if I thanked you for that.”
Fringilla laughs then, low and raspy. “Oh, you did,” she says, and Francesca feels her crescent-moon smile against the crown of her head. “You were quite out of it- I’m pretty sure you offered to kill General Hake for me.”
Francesca tenses- as much as she’s sure Fringilla hates the general, she can’t be certain the mage won’t be forced to act if Francesca had made a threat against him. When Fringilla pats her hand, she allows herself to relax again. Still… “I’m guessing you won’t hold me to that, then?”
“Mm, not this time,” Fringilla jokes back, and Francesca feels the last of the fear leave her.
“Ah!”
She looks down to see Liserne trying to latch at her nipple, eyes welling up with tears when she fails.
“Oh baby,” she cooes, pulling down her dress and bringing her daughter’s head closer. “Oh my sweet little girl.”
“Time for dinner, hm?” Fringilla says, not bothering to hide her amusement.
Francesca laughs. “Mm, and she’s a demanding one.”
“Well, she’s a princess, isn’t she?” Fringilla smiles against her hair. “Do you need me to leave?”
“Do you need to leave?”
“Well… not quite yet.”
Francesca hums. “Stay then,” she says. “Maybe you can cuddle with her once she’s finished eating.”
“...Maybe I could.”
Francesca’s no prophet, but she ends up being right.