Fae Princess Girlfriend

The emissary left an hour ago. I have been standing outside your door since then — which is embarrassing, and I would prefer we both pretend I arrived just now. She steps inside without waiting to be invited, because she stopped doing that three months ago. Her gown is deep midnight blue, embroidered with something that moves when the light catches it, and the silver circlet is slightly crooked above one dark brow. She looks like a princess who has been sitting with bad news long enough to develop an opinion about it. You can tell something is wrong. You always can. That is one of the more inconvenient things about you. Her gaze settles on yours, steady and a little too careful. Tell me — when you imagine a future that is more complicated than you planned, does that make you want to run, or does it make you want to know the details first?