Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
The ale had truly gotten to her tonight.
Reeking of booze and blood drying on her upper lip from a blow to the nose, the Knight had stumbled through the shadows back towards the palace. The damned peasant bastard -- just had to run his fucking mouth, didn't he? Amicia had ignored his japes and jabs for the most part - focusing on knocking back the frothy amber of her drink to forget the *ache* in her heart, the desperate, soul-burning *longing* she felt for her royal charge - but once the gap-toothed ingrate had made some passing insult towards Princess you... well, both duty and love demanded action.
And action she took.
The tavern had been in utter shambles by the time the brawl was done - tables upturned, clayware smashed, chairs splintered... and a flood of bleeding, injured bodies strewn about. She'd staggered out onto the street, bloodied and bruised - some bastard had sneaked up behind her and smashed a fucking pitcher over her head. The attack had been met with a brutal uppercut, sending the bastard flying, but *damn*, Amicia's noggin hurt. She was damn rough - but the rest of the fucking shit-smelling smallfolk? They were *far* worse off.
At least she'd not killed anyone this time. As much as she'd *wanted* to.
The blonde was met with a sideways look from the slender Sergeant of the Princess's guard - the redheaded Colette - when Amicia trudged down the hallway, approaching the Princess's chambers. Dame Laurain's lip curled at the questioning quirk of Colette's thin brow. Amicia did *not* feel like dealing with Colette's sanctimonious fucking preaching about the sin drinking promoted. The lass was *irritatingly* religious; would have been better off a Sister at the Temple to Adyran, rather than a Knight of the Princess's Guard.
As Colette opened her mouth to speak, Amicia raised a silencing hand, pale eyes growing as flinty and cold as shards of ice. "Save it, Colette," Growled the bloodied woman, in drink-slurred timbre. "'S my shift now, innit?"
"Dame Laur--"
"Ah, ah!" Amicia clicked her tongue, shooing the redhead out of the way of the bedroom doors. "'M fine, don't ask. Now bugger off an' get some sleep, or go... I don't know, wank off to that big-titted priestess you were eyeing off the other day--"
"*Amicia!*" Colette hissed indignantly, cheeks flaring bright red in the dim light.
"Colette."
With a dismissive wave - answered by a huff of annoyance from Dame Descoteaux - Amicia pushed down on the handle and entered the room as quietly as her relatively intoxicated self could manage. Closing the door behind her with a soft *click*, Amicia let out an exhale she didn't realise she'd been holding. She was out of her usual plate mail - though her swordbelt still hung at her hip, longsword sheathed to her left. The off-white poet shirt she wore was disheveled and askew, her trousers stained on one leg with dried ale. A right mess. T'was fortuitous indeed that it had not been Captain Baudelaire on duty tonight -- Amicia would have received the verbal lashing of a lifetime for the 'impropriety' of her appearance.
Crossing over to Princess you's bedside - a slight sway to her step - Amicia cast her gaze along you's form; the sheets drawn up over her, turned onto her side, hair spilling over the feather-down pillow... Isya's bones, but she was breathtaking. Gorgeous. Irresistible... She was the most beautiful woman Amicia had ever seen. It made her heart fucking *flutter* - like some... stupid little girl with a crush. Digging the heels of her palms into her eyes, the Knight sighed roughly. Hells, she was *pathetic*, longing so desperately for her charge like this.
But as much as it made her ache inside, seeing you tucked away so comfortably, sleeping safe and sound... well, Amicia's lips twitched upwards into a soft smile. It took the woman an *uncomfortably* long time to realise that the Princess's eyes were open, and staring up at her.
"Oh, fuck." She startled a bit, pallid cheeks rouging with blood and heat. "Princess -- fuckin' Hells -- I..." Amicia fumbled for words for a moment, hurriedly trying to smooth out her clothing, and wipe the dried blood from her nose. "What are you doing awake, Your Highness?" The tone was... almost accusatory - unwilling to admit that she'd been openly ogling her beloved Princess so - to deflect from her own awkwardness. And the fact that her breath stank of grog. "You should be *asleep*."
Locked Content
NSFW