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The scent of summer trees and the gentle rustle of wind across the lake greeted Rae Taylor as she stood awkwardly at the edge of the François family estate, clutching a small wicker basket of snacks and dried meat in both hands. A wide-brimmed hat sat precariously atop her head, tilted just enough to suggest she'd seen it in a book once and decided that made her “fishing ready.”
Beside her, May and Aleah bounced excitedly on their feet, sticks shaped in swords over their shoulders like tiny adventurers setting out on a heroic quest. Rae and her two daughters were wearing matching white Summer dress and flip flops that were easy to move in. Ralaire, the ever-jiggly slime that had somehow become a staple of their family unit, quivered happily in its tiny satchel-shaped container on Aleah’s back, its translucent blue surface pulsing with excitement. It was currently in its smaller size, able to fit inside someone's palm.
“…You brought the slime,” came the droll voice of Duke Dole François as he approached from the path, eyes narrowing in a way that might have been disapproval—or might just have been his natural resting scowl.
Aleah turned to face him, proudly patting Ralaire’s pouch. “Grandpapa! Ralaire is family too!”
Dole sighed deeply, but the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward as he leaned down to lift both girls into a quick, strong hug. "I see you're both ready to scare away every fish in the lake with your chatter."
“We’ll be quiet, promise!” May chimed, her twin pigtails bouncing with the force of her nod.
“And I brought snacks!” Rae added brightly, holding out the basket as if it were a peace offering—or perhaps a bribe. “High quality dried trout jerky. Protein-packed. I also brought lemonade! With mint! I even brought seasoning for a barbecue.”
Dole stared at her. His silence stretched long enough that Rae started to fidget.
“…I suppose if nothing else,” he finally muttered, turning toward the path that led to the estate’s private dock, “you’ll be useful for keeping the mosquitoes entertained.”
Rae beamed. “Sir, I am exceptionally biteable.”
Aleah giggled while May sighed, already used to their Mama’s nonsense.
The group began their walk, the two girls chatting about who would catch the biggest fish while Rae hummed a little tune and Dole occasionally side-eyed her like she was a particularly odd bird that had nested in his topiary.
But there was something gentle in the way he held Aleah’s hand.
And something just a bit less cold in the way he let Rae walk beside him.
The private pond behind the François estate wasn’t particularly large, but it exuded a quiet, cultivated beauty. A ring of tall trees shaded its banks, their branches reaching lazily over the water like old friends whispering secrets to the surface. Sunlight danced between the leaves, glinting off the ripples stirred by koi and minnows just beneath the still surface. A modest wooden dock jutted out over the water, lovingly maintained despite being rarely used—at least, rarely until today.
Dole François stepped onto the dock with the same dignified grace he applied to state dinners and political negotiations, he did not have a cape on but the way he acted was as if one was still fluttering behind him even in the absence of any real wind.
“Lord Dole, your chair and rod,” announced a servant crisply, laying out a finely lacquered folding chair, a pristine fishing rod crafted from polished wood and silver inlay, and a velvet-lined box of hand-tied lures that looked more expensive than Rae’s wedding gown.
“Thank you,” Dole replied with a stately nod, before turning to May and Aleah with a far gentler expression. “Now, my little lilies, you promised not to scare away the fish—but you may still sit with Grandpapa while we wait.”
“Yes, Grandpapa!” May chirped, climbing onto his lap without hesitation.
Aleah, more cautious, hovered near his side. “Can I put Ralaire next to the water?”
“If it doesn’t eat the water,” Dole muttered under his breath, but gave a reluctant nod.
Ralaire, for its part, jiggled up and down excitedly in its pouch before slowly oozing to the edge of the dock. It peeked over with a curious blorp, seemingly fascinated by its own reflection.
Rae hung back a moment, watching the three of them settle in. There was something warm—almost painfully so—in the way Dole’s arm wrapped protectively around May, how his gaze softened every time Aleah leaned closer. The tsundere genes ran strong in the François family, it seemed.
She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and approached with her best diplomatic smile.
“Lovely day for fishing, huh? I was worried it might rain, but Lady Claire said the weather always cooperates when it knows her father is going outside.”
“Hmph.” Dole didn’t look up as he cast his line with practiced ease. “I’ve no need for praise from the weather. Nor from you.”
Rae chuckled, unbothered. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I also don’t cooperate when Lady Claire goes outside.”
May giggled. Aleah did too, which made Ralaire jiggle in approval.
Dole’s lips twitched. Not a smile—but a shift, like a stone pondering whether it might, someday, allow moss to grow.
“You are remarkably casual for someone who married into nobility,” he said instead, adjusting his grip on the rod.
“Thank you! I consider it a personal brand,” Rae said brightly, sitting on the edge of the dock and kicking her feet over the side. “Besides, I married Claire, not her title. Though I do appreciate how regal she always act. And her curly well-cared blonde hair. And her gentle, long fingers.”
Dole arched a brow. “You speak as though they were gifts.”
“Oh, no, no,” Rae replied quickly. “They’re miracles. Gifts are nice. Miracles are undeserved. I have two amazing daughters and a wife so dazzling I go blind daily. Even if your standards were ten times higher, I’d still count myself the luckiest woman in the kingdom.”
There was silence for a long beat.
Then:
“…You talk too much.”
Rae grinned. “Only when I’m nervous.”
Aleah tugged on Dole’s sleeve. “Grandpapa, Mama Rae’s funny. You should let her visit more.”
“We’ll see,” Dole replied, but this time his tone wasn’t dismissive—it was careful. Measured. Like a man watching a fish nibble the bait, unsure if he should yank the line just yet.
The rod twitched.
“Oh! You’ve got something!” Rae cried, scooting closer.
Dole’s expression sharpened. “Hold the basket. May, Aleah, watch closely. This is how a François handles a catch.”
May clapped excitedly. Aleah bounced in place. Ralaire… plopped into the water with a squish.
Rae lunged. “Ralaire, no!! That’s not the bait!!”
“SLIME OVERBOARD!” cried Aleah. "Captain, what shall we do?"
The fishing line jerked hard, and chaos bloomed on the quiet dock—but Dole, somehow, didn’t fumble. Even as Ralaire sent up an enthusiastic splash, even as Rae scrambled after it, he reeled with calm precision.
And when he lifted the rod high—holding aloft a gleaming trout and a completely unharmed slime now clinging to the hook with inexplicable glee—the girls burst into delighted laughter.
Dole blinked at the sight.
Then, just once, he laughed too.
The trout shimmered in the sun, twitching indignantly on the end of Dole’s line as Ralaire cheerfully clung to the hook like it had won a game. May and Aleah burst into delighted squeals, clapping for their grandfather as if he had just saved the kingdom.
“Grandpapa, you’re amazing!” May cheered, bouncing in place. "May wants to be as cool as you as well in the future."
“You caught both the fish and Ralaire!” Aleah exclaimed in awe. “That’s two for one! Grandfather is so strong.”
Ralaire gave a wet blorp of approval, then slid gently off the hook and back into Aleah’s arms, leaving behind a slick trail of… something that probably wasn’t harmful.
Rae clapped enthusiastically. “Ten points for House François! Sir Dole, that was so smooth! Graceful! Efficient! Like a noble hawk snatching dinner from the lake!”
Dole gave her a long, measured look as he handed the trout off to a servant with an almost ceremonial flourish. “Your comparisons are as loud as they are unnecessary.”
Rae leaned in closer, eyes shining. “Could you teach me how to do that?”
“…You?” he said flatly.
“Yes! Me! Rae Taylor, devoted wife, loving mother, energetic lesbian, occasional menace. Come on,” she said, nudging his elbow, “I promise not to fall in the water on purpose. Just once. Okay, maybe twice. But I am very enthusiastic.”
Dole remained stone-faced.
“Pleeeeease?” May added, tugging on his sleeve. “Mama Rae wants to be good at fishing too!”
“She said she wanted to catch dinner for Mama Claire!” Aleah chimed in with sparkling eyes.
That part was fabricated, but Rae was smart enough not to argue.
“…You two are far too susceptible to her nonsense,” Dole muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand.
But when he lowered it, he let out a long sigh and gestured to the servants. “Prepare another rod. One suitable for beginners.”
“Right away, my lord,” a footman said, already sprinting.
Rae did a tiny victory fist-pump. “Yes! Rae Taylor, charming her way into in-law territory one fishing rod at a time!”
Before long, she was seated beside Dole on the dock, a slightly simpler rod in her hands and her hat now slightly askew from excitement. Dole sat beside her with the poise of a man who had once given orders to armies and now gave stern instructions on baiting hooks.
“Thumb beneath the spool. Grip with your index finger. No, not like that. You’ll lose a nail and your dignity,” he added dryly.
“I have one of those left?” Rae quipped. "I mean dignity?"
This earned an exasperated deadpan look from the older man, who decided that looking at the pound was far better.
Meanwhile, May and Aleah had settled near the edge of the trees, Ralaire squelching along happily as they chased fluttering dragonflies between patches of shade. A pair of watchful maids stood nearby, politely pretending not to intervene unless someone actually tumbled into the pond. The children’s laughter carried lightly across the water.
Despite their adoption into nobility, there was something wonderfully natural about the way the girls ran barefoot over the grass and giggled at bugs. Rae and Claire had never tried to strip away their energy or spontaneity—instead, they’d built a life that gave them both love and opportunity. And it showed in the way they played now: joyful, safe, secure.
Dole watched them for a moment longer than he probably meant to, his gaze softening imperceptibly.
“They’ve adjusted well,” he said at last.
Rae blinked. She hadn’t expected him to speak again so soon. “They really have. It took a while to help them trust people, but they’re sharp. Curious. And incredibly sweet.”
He grunted. “And loud.”
“Loud is how you know they feel safe enough to be heard,” Rae said gently, not looking away from her line. “That’s what Lady Claire and I want for them. To have a childhood they don’t need to recover from. To live with smiles on their face.”
Dole didn’t respond immediately. But the silence felt… thoughtful.
The pond rippled gently. Somewhere, a dragonfly zipped by, barely dodging Ralaire’s curious squish attempt.
Rae smiled to herself. No declarations. No sudden hugs. But sitting here, side by side with her gruff, intimidating, not-yet-quite-approving father-in-law—sharing a quiet moment with their daughters’ laughter behind them—felt like more than enough for today. They were still busy with the reconstruction of the Kingdom—Claire was meeting with the higher-ups to reorganize budget for that day, which explains why she couldn't come—but quiet times like these helped reinvigorate one's energy.
“I think I like fishing,” Rae murmured.
“You haven’t caught anything yet,” Dole said.
“…Yet,” she echoed with a grin.
A sudden tug nearly yanked Rae off her seat.
“GAH—?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?! IS THIS A FISH OR A ROGUE WATER SPIRIT?!” she cried, flailing backward as the rod bent sharply toward the pond.
Dole jolted upright in an instant. “It’s a bite! Hold steady!”
“Steady?! I’m about to become bait!”
“Thumb on the spool! Keep the line taut but don’t yank it!”
“I'm taut! I'm SO taut!!”
The servants stepped back just enough to maintain dignity, though more than one hand shot up to cover a stifled laugh. Rae was practically wrestling the rod now, legs braced like a knight repelling a charge.
“Let it run for a moment, then reel it in when it slows!” Dole barked, now fully invested despite himself.
“I-I think it’s slowing—OH NO IT’S FAKING IT!”
“Now! Reel!”
Rae gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead. “Alright, you pond punk, I’ve watched dozens of fishing anime for this moment! It's time to show my fighting shounen spirit. Ready, Go!”
With a final triumphant cry, Rae hauled the rod back—sending a large, wriggling trout flying out of the water in an arc, its silver body glittering in the sunlight like a victory badge. It landed with a wet plop right in front of them, flapping indignantly on the dock.
“YEEEESSS!!” Rae whooped, leaping to her feet and raising the rod like a hero lifting a sacred sword. “I HAVE CLAIMED A FISH IN THE NAME OF GAY MOTHERS EVERYWHERE!!”
May and Aleah came sprinting over, eyes wide.
“Mama Rae! Mama Rae, you did it!!” May cried.
“You caught one bigger than Grandpapa’s!!” Aleah exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the fish.
Ralaire squished onto the dock beside them with a happy bloop, bouncing around in circles as if celebrating with a victory dance.
Rae beamed, turning to Dole with both pride and sincerity. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Sir Dole. Your guidance was perfect. Thank you.”
Dole looked away with a sigh. “Good grief…”
But a chuckle escaped him—quiet, brief, but unmistakable. A few nearby servants exchanged knowing glances, the kind that came with years of witnessing a nobleman's rare expressions.
“...You held your own,” he said at last. “Somewhat. Be proud of your achievement. As someone married into the François family, keep your gaze up and stay on your feet.”
“High praise!” Rae grinned. “If I catch another, I might just ascend to ‘moderately tolerable.’”
The girls giggled as they examined the fish, Ralaire occasionally poking it with a curious tendril. The energy of the little group was warm and infectious—noble or not, this was family.
Rae glanced at the sky, the afternoon sun still high and pleasant. “You know… if we catch a few more, maybe we could have a barbecue later?”
Dole raised an eyebrow. “A barbecue?”
“I want to show the François estate just how serious I can get when I cook! Real smoky flavors, careful seasoning, meat grilled with love and tactical precision! None of that ‘garnish-only’ noble stuff,” she said proudly.
One of the footmen nearby chuckled. Another let out a soft, “Oh dear,” but in a fond tone.
Dole, to Rae’s surprise, grinned faintly. “Very well. Impress me.”
“Oh, I will. Prepare your palate, Sir Dole. Tonight, we feast!”
The sun dipped lower in the sky, bathing the François estate’s rear garden in gold as smoke and savory scents rose from the makeshift grill Rae had assembled near the pond. Tables had been set with care, servants bustled with quiet efficiency, and skewers of glistening grilled trout sizzled over hot coals.
“Three-to-one,” Dole declared with the calm precision of a duelist claiming victory.
Rae, still covered in a few flecks of pond water and fish scales, saluted with a pair of long-handled tongs. “And next time, I’ll close the gap! A good daughter-in-law learns from her losses!”
“Hmph. You’d best train harder then,” Dole said, his lips twitching in what might—might—have been a grin. “I won’t be going easy.”
“I wouldn’t want you to!” Rae beamed. “By the end of the year, I’ll have you begging to be my fishing apprentice!”
That earned a low chuckle from the old nobleman.
As Dole took a seat beneath the garden canopy—May and Aleah by his side, holding cups of chilled juice—Rae took command of the grill. With sleeves rolled up and an apron over her dress, she was a whirlwind of focus and energy.
“Alright, operation ‘Convert Nobles to Barbecue Culture’ is GO!” she declared, flipping fish with deft precision. “Lemon zest, cracked pepper, little bit of garlic oil… ha! This trout’s about to transcend social class!”
The first batch of grilled fish was passed to Dole, the girls, and the closest servants. One skeptical butler took a cautious bite… and his eyes widened.
“This is… divine,” he murmured.
“Oh? Don’t faint now,” Rae said, cocky. “This is just the appetizer.”
Soon enough, more servants were invited to try a bite. A line formed without any orders given, everyone drawn in by the irresistible scent.
“I won’t lose to anyone when it comes to cooking, period,” Rae declared proudly, striking a heroic pose with a spatula in one hand and a skewer in the other. “I’m going to feed Claire the best food on the continent, whether she likes it or not!”
That got a laugh from the kitchen staff, and a few of the older maids exchanged knowing looks.
“Lady Claire is a picky eater,” one murmured.
“She hated carrots until she was fifteen,” another added.
“Oh, I know,” Rae said, laughing. “She once rejected my stew because it ‘smelled like determination.’”
Dole coughed—once, twice—behind his hand, but it couldn’t quite disguise the amused glint in his eyes. “She always was particular… overly so.”
May giggled. “Mama Claire’s not picky anymore—as long as Mama Rae cooks it!”
“She even eats eggplant now,” Aleah chimed in, puffing her cheeks proudly. “But only if it’s grilled by Mama Rae with soy sauce!”
Dole blinked. “Soy… sauce?”
“A fermented miracle,” Rae said, nodding solemnly. “One day, I’ll introduce you to miso soup and we’ll all ascend together.”
Ralaire let out a happy blorp, bobbing beside the table, clearly pleased with the atmosphere. Aleah patted the slime gently, and May giggled.
“Oh! Grandpapa, did you know Mama Claire hugs Ralaire when Mama Rae comes home late from work?” Aleah said innocently.
“She thinks we don’t know, but she definitely snuggles them on the couch,” May added. “Ralaire always smells like Mama Claire’s perfume after!”
Dole raised an eyebrow, slowly turning to Ralaire, who simply jiggled in affirmation.
“Hmph. That girl… She used to say slimes were ‘uncouth.’”
“Now she wraps her arms around one like a plushie,” Rae said fondly. “You should see it. It’s adorable. Ralaire has become an emotional support blob.”
The servants chuckled again, some nodding along—indeed, they could picture Lady Claire curled up with the slime and a book, while waiting for her beloved to come home and spoil her.
“I will say,” Rae continued, voice gentling, “our life’s not as flashy as the court or nobility might expect. We teach, we cook, we chase after our daughters when they sneak sweets before dinner. But it’s ours.”
Aleah nodded seriously. “Mama Claire always says our home is calm and happy.”
“...She says it’s the first place that feels like home,” May whispered, clutching her cup tightly.
That made Dole pause. His eyes fell on his granddaughters—their joy, their easy smiles, their closeness to this strange, wild woman who somehow brought warmth into a noble house used to formality.
“…I see,” he murmured.
Rae glanced sideways at him, then turned a fish skewer with a soft smile. “Thanks for letting us come today. It means a lot. To all of us.”
Dole didn’t reply immediately. But after a moment, he reached out and gently patted Aleah’s head, then May’s, before accepting another skewer from Rae without protest.
The sky turned soft with the orange hues of dusk, and laughter filled the air like music.
It was not a grand banquet or a noble affair.
It was something better—family.
The garden was glowing with the soft light of lanterns now, flickering gently as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The barbecue fire had dwindled to glowing embers, and the scent of grilled fish lingered warmly in the air.
A carriage rolled up the long gravel path from the manor house, the polished wood gleaming in the twilight. The door opened, and Claire François stepped out—regal and composed as ever, even when dressed in a simple working suit, but with just a hint of a tired smile tugging at her lips.
May and Aleah rushed forward, their laughter ringing clear. “Mama Claire!” they called in unison, running to embrace her.
Rae appeared moments later, slightly flushed from the day’s exertions, her energetic grin bright as she practically bounced forward.
Before Claire could reach her, Rae threw her arms around her waist, clinging like a koala to a tree.
“Finally!” Rae exclaimed, nuzzling her face into Claire’s side. "I can recharge my Claire battery."
Claire’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing a deep pink. Her hand twitched, as if about to gently disentangle Rae’s grip—but then she softened, pressing a hand to Rae’s head with a faint smile. “Rae… you’re acting like a spoiled child.”
“Mmm, maybe I am,” Rae said smugly, refusing to let go.
Aleah giggled, tugging at Claire’s sleeve. “Mama Rae’s always like this when she sees Mama Claire.”
May chimed in, “It’s cute!”
A nearby servant stifled a laugh, and Dole—seated quietly on the garden bench, his arms crossed—cleared his throat twice in rapid succession, trying to hide the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
“Well, I suppose this is… progress,” Dole muttered. He glanced at the three energetic children, then at the shimmering, gelatinous form of Ralaire bouncing happily beside them.
Seeing the scene—his granddaughters laughing, Rae clinging to Claire, and the slime clearly part of their little family—Dole’s heart softened, even if his pride kept his voice clipped.
“Inviting them all here for a day of fishing…” he said quietly, “perhaps it was the right call.”
Rae looked up at him with a bright smile. “Thank you for today, Sir Dole. I had a blast.”
Dole nodded once, eyes still watching his daughter and her new family. “Claire looks happy, so it was worth it.”
Claire’s cheeks flushed again, but she said nothing. Instead, she reached down and gathered Rae’s hands in hers, squeezing gently.
Her wife leaned in, whispering, “You’re the best, tsundere wife.”
Claire rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away.
Ralaire bobbed happily, as if agreeing wholeheartedly.
As the evening settled in fully and stars began to peek from the darkening sky, the quiet hum of this unconventional family—woven together by love, laughter, and a bit of good-natured stubbornness—felt more like home than any grand estate could.
The lantern light flickered softly as Rae, Claire, May, Aleah, and Ralaire prepared to leave the François estate garden. The air had cooled, and the evening was wrapping itself around the household like a warm shawl.
Dole stood by the carriage, his posture formal but eyes softer than before. The servants lined up politely to see the family off, exchanging quiet smiles at the familiar scene.
Rae linked her arm with her wife’s as they approached Dole. With an earnest, slightly mischievous grin, Rae looked up at her father-in-law. “Thank you for today, sir. I’m serious about becoming someone you can accept—someone worthy to call family.”
Claire stepped forward, gently embracing her father. “Thank you, Father, for having looked after the little gremlins while I was busy.”
"Come on, Lady Claire. No parent would call their daughters little gremlin."
"I am referring to you, silly."
"Hehe. My bad."
Dole’s stern face softened. He rested a firm hand on Claire’s shoulder before turning to the two energetic girls, who scrambled eagerly forward.
May and Aleah each received a gentle headpat, their bright smiles lighting up the dusk.
Ralaire, their lively slime companion, bounced excitedly around their feet, jiggling gleefully without a care in the world.
After the warm, slightly awkward exchange, Dole cleared his throat. “Ray Taylor…” His voice was gruffer than usual, betraying his nerves. “If you wish… we may act a bit more friendly. One where you display your connection to the François family more clearly.”
Rae blinked, a bit slow on the uptake. “You want me to raise the banner of the François family to the Academy ground, sir?”
Dole’s lips twitched in a rare, almost shy smile, but before he could respond, his most trusted butler stepped forward smoothly.
“Master Dole means that, as part of the family, Miss Taylor may address him in the manner befitting a father-in-law, that is call him "Father", should she choose to.”
Rae’s eyes sparkled with genuine joy. “Oh! Well, then… Father!” she said brightly, making the servants chuckle softly.
Dole’s cheeks colored faintly—barely visible but unmistakable.
“Very well,” he muttered, bowing his head with a faint smile.
The carriage door was opened, and with final waves and fond looks exchanged, Rae, Claire, May, Aleah, and Ralaire climbed aboard.
As the wheels turned and the carriage rolled away, Dole retreated to his study, the heavy door closing behind him with a soft click.
His butler entered shortly after, setting down a fresh cup of tea.
“Master Dole, you have changed,” the butler observed quietly. “For the better.”
Dole settled into his chair, swirling the tea thoughtfully. “Indeed. But the work does not end here.”
He sipped slowly before continuing, voice low but resolute: “I will redouble my efforts as Minister of Finance in this kingdom newly reshaped by revolution… so that May and Aleah may one day be proud to call me their grandfather. So that Claire remains proud to carry the François name…”
His eyes softened, a shadow of a smile touching his lips. “…And so that Rae will never regret accepting me as her father-in-law.”
The butler nodded solemnly.
Outside, the night deepened, but inside the study, a quiet warmth grew—a promise of family, acceptance, and the future still to come.