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Stella slumps onto the chaise lounge she’d managed to squeeze into the room she now shared with Flora. She hadn’t expected to get to the point of accepting a roommate, but she supposes she could’ve had a worse one. She’d seen the mess Bloom makes in her room with Aisha and counts her blessings every day to Solaria in thanks.
But having a roommate isn’t her current trouble. No. It’s far from it.
Her current issue is a girl.
One named Beatrix.
Beatrix Daniels. The bane of her existence. The reason for her existence.
She had told herself that she liked boys and only boys. Sky in particular. But when Sky fell for Bloom, she hadn’t bothered to fight for him. She blamed that on the fact that he’s happier with Bloom.
It was not the fact that she was never happy with him. When he kissed her, the stubble of his shaved chin would rub against her, and it would take everything in her to stop herself from recoiling and throwing him out of her arms.
No. Bloom was the reason.
She supposes, in some way, that Bloom is the reason.
Bloom and several other girls. All girls.
Stella realised it over time. Once she was away from Sky, and that dastardly gem was placed in her back, sapping her of her magic, she found some company in Beatrix. More than anything, she realised she thoroughly enjoyed it.
She would sip Beatrix’s whiskey every time she felt herself leaning in. Which consequently made the desire to lean in ever worse as her inhibitions faded.
She doesn’t know how it happened. But, it was a day like anything other. The gem is still in her back, and Beatrix becomes her sole company, what with Bloom and the others always leaving the grounds on a hunt for some mystery or another.
But she enjoyed it.
And so, when Beatrix sneaks her into a room with a map that conjures out of nothing but sand and long-settled magic, one thing leads to another.
That thing is Stella lowering her shirt below her shoulders so that Beatrix can assess the gem and see if it can be removed. When it can’t, Beatrix apologises and places a kiss on the centre of it. Stella shouldn’t have felt it, but by Solaria, she does.
She gasps at the touch, Beatrix hums against it and pulls back and…
Stella remembers the rest in vivid detail.
“Are you quite alright, Stel?” Beatrix questions, her hand is on Stella’s shoulder and her brow furrows.
Stella swallows sharply. “Yes, um,” she clears her throat. “I could feel that.”
Beatrix’s look of concern quickly fades and a smirk grows at the corner of her lips. “Oh? The princess can feel my lips on her prison gem?”
Stella huffs, though it comes out as more of a stuttery breath. “Don’t call it that-”
Her words are cut short by Beatrix’s lips against the gem. “What would you prefer, my Highness?”
Stella’s lip quivers as she responds. “You’re not Solarian, you don’t need to be so formal with me.”
Beatrix leans over Stella. She takes a step back and bumps into the map table. Sand starts to coat the back of her cardigan. “What if I want to be?”
“I-” Stella gasps. She’s the princess of the kingdom of Solaria. She should be the one in control. She grits her teeth and spins them around, pinning Beatrix to the map table. Sand trails off the edge of it. “I’m in control.”
Beatrix offers no response. She wets her lips with her tongue and lets out a small… moan?
Stella doesn’t need a response, it turns out. She bends down and, with no whiskey to blame… she doesn’t care. She presses her lips to Beatrix’s.
It’s cautionary at first. A brief caress where neither of them move. But when Beatrix starts moving, Stella’s inhibitions fall away, and alcohol is not required. She leads Beatrix through the kiss, her hands on her shoulders as she keeps her on the map table.
She pulls away, and Beatrix’s complaint quickly falls away when she trails kisses down her neck before settling on her collarbone. She breathes against her and grins at Beatrix’s dilated eyes. “Now what?”
“Whatever you want,” Beatrix gasps, “Princess.”
Stella is all too happy to return her lips to Beatrix’s and kiss her well into the night. Their quest to remove the gem is long forgotten. A few shy words are all they share when they realise it’s past curfew and they have to sneak back to their dorm rooms.
This brings Stella back to the present. How is she supposed to face Beatrix? How do they even define this? What if it was a one-time thing? What if Beatrix regrets it?
She groans to herself. Girls are far more complicated than boys.
Before she can stew in her thoughts, her door is pushed open. She huffs and stomps her foot. “I told you all I need some time al-”
A hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her off her chaise and out of the room. She’s led down several halls before she’d pulled into an old storeroom and slammed against the wall.
“What are you-”
Her question is cut off by lips on her own.
They kiss for several minutes before her captor pulls away. “Stella, I can’t pretend to be just your friend after that.”
“Thank Solaria,” Stella whispers, cupping Beatrix’s cheeks. “I would simply die at the thought of never kissing you again.”
Beatrix laughs. “Don’t be so dramatic, princess.”
Stella presses a brief and soft kiss against Beatrix’s lips, relishing the softness of it all. Her lips, her skin, her long red hair. It was delightful. “I’m the perfect amount of dramatic, Bea.”
“Bea?” Beatrix whispers.
Stella grins awkwardly as she stumbles through the worst confession of her life. “Bea mine?”
Beatrix snorts as she laughs loudly. “Really?”
Stella shrugs her shoulders and smiles. “Really.”
Beatrix’s mouth falls open in a small ‘o’ shape. “Really.” She smiles widely. “Really. A military orphan and the princess of an entire kingdom?”
Stella laughs. “Don’t forget that we’re both women.”
“How could I?” Beatrix laughs. “You really want this?”
“So earnestly it makes my chest ache at the thought of it not coming into fruition,” Stella whispers.
“Well, I could never refuse a request from a princess,” Beatrix hums. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”
Stella laughs, though tears slip from her eyes. “And I’ll be yours.”
Their lips reconnect immediately, and Stella melts into the kiss. This was what she had been waiting for.
The softness of another woman. The tender love only they could deliver.
This was her forever.
Beatrix is her forever.