After Julie woke, she took a while to remember that yesterday hadn’t been a dream. That the woman next to her was her wife. Not exactly her lawfully wedded wife, but her wife nonetheless.

A wife in only underwear.

The shock had long worn off, Julie used to it before they’d gone to bed. As for now, well, it seemed silly to her, but she felt like touching Sammy’s bare skin was nice. Not in a… lewd way. Not that Julie didn’t like how Sammy’s skin felt.

Trying to calm down, Julie let out a long breath.

Washing Sammy’s back, holding hands, kissing—there was just something more to those. More than the acts themselves. Something that she felt now while her free hand gently stroked along Sammy’s bare arm under the covers. A need she never knew she had, a need to touch, finally being fulfilled. A need to touch Sammy. For that, clothes really had been in the way.

However, this thought grew scary when held up to a mirror. A seed of worry that would grow throughout the day.

For now, Julie was still lost in the glow of being a wife, having a wife—a family. Sammy rarely spoke of that part and Julie didn’t think of it until this morning. Just that, they really would live together when everything was over. Maybe they would adopt a child, maybe run a business, or a farm. Julie didn’t know, but she was excited to find out.

It was funny. Julie had never much thought of the future—or rather, hadn’t wanted to. She hadn’t wanted to think about being some man’s wife, having his children, the cooking and cleaning and housework that went into being a wife. But being Sammy’s wife was different.

Having Sammy as her life partner instead of anyone else was different.

Julie had spoken her love many times by now, but she felt it more true every day. There was always something else telling her she loved Sammy.

Meanwhile, Sammy had awoken under Julie’s tender ministrations, content to enjoy the caresses. Just that, the call of nature only grew with time. So, before it was too much, she rolled onto her side and brought up her free hand, running it through Julie’s hair.

“G’morning,” Julie whispered.

“Good morning, my wife,” Sammy said. Like a magic spell, that last word brought Julie’s lips into bloom, a most beautiful smile that needed to be kissed.

Sammy eventually left the bed to tend to her needs, which included changing her sanitary cloth. When she came back through to the bedroom, she joked with Julie, saying, “Although I call it my monthly, it is far more regular than these wishy-washy months that can’t decide how many days to have.”

Julie looked down with a reluctantly amused smile.

The two had woken up early out of habit, nothing to immediately do. Outside, heavy rain still pounded against the windows, wind howling; inside, no maid had asked if they wanted breakfast yet. It was hard to judge the time with the clouds, but Sammy guessed it would be an hour or longer before they ate and told Julie as much.

“That’s fine,” Julie said.

Both sat in front of the window once more, watching the rain, hands joined—and it seemed so rare for their hands to be parted unless they were riding.

Sammy agreed: it was fine.

When a maid did eventually knock, Julie was then treated to the faces that maid pulled while Sammy talked her into taking them to the laundry room. After that, they went for breakfast, joining Lady Jeelyo in the parlour.

“I trust my guests slept well?” Lady Jeelyo asked.

“Oh, most well,” Sammy said with a slight smile, squeezing Julie’s hand under the table.

Rather used to not speaking much, Julie didn’t recognise the pause in the conversation was for her to answer—not until Lady Jeelyo looked up at her over her cup of tea.

“Y-yes, most well,” Julie said.

Lady Jeelyo tittered behind her cup.

For rather the first time, Julie was treated to a ladies’ breakfast. After all, wherever they’d been before, she hadn’t been a princess and Sammy was hardly going to send her off to the servants’ hall alone. But Lady Jeelyo only knew her as a princess.

Unlike the formality of dinner, breakfast was more like a work of art. It began with tea and pleasantries, topic meandering until it touched on foods, and even then they had to come to some kind of unspoken decision on what to eat before Lady Jeelyo subtly asked the maids to prepare it.

That was all lost on Julie. To her, it seemed like they spent an hour waiting for no reason.

Of course, it was far from over. When the food did arrive, it came as a spread of choices, each of which Lady Jeelyo had to narrate and then briefly discuss with Sammy. Not only that, but the serving Julie got was tiny. The reason for that soon became clear as Sammy then “recommended” another of the choices, her physical cues picked up by the maid who served a small portion of that for Julie.

Just as Sammy had told Julie, people in the cities seemed to be rather bored, needing all sorts of time wasting activities.

The breakfast that began early morning ended squarely midmorning. For how long it took, Julie wasn’t even full, but she didn’t dare say anything that might have prolonged the meal. She had to wonder if that was one of the ways that noble ladies kept from overeating.

Still, eager as Julie was to get up, the reason she was so quick to her feet was to help up Sammy, keenly aware that the first day of her wife’s monthly had been hard the last times. Sammy was only too happy to be helped up, rewarding her wife with a peck.

Julie froze. After a long second, she glanced over to see if Jeelyo had seen. And Lady Jeelyo had seen, yet still sat there smiling, seemingly unfazed.

Well, not entirely. Lady Jeelyo’s expression slowly fell and, in a small voice, she said, “Princess Samantha, may I ask something that is… a bit strange?”

“By all means,” Sammy said.

Lady Jeelyo spared Julie a look. “My apologies, Princess Julianne, this is a question of Schtish customs, but please feel free to include oneself.” With that disclaimer said, she turned back to Sammy. “I am rather close with a friend. However, since she returned from your birthday celebrations… I am somewhat confused.”

“I see. Pray tell, what exactly is confusing?” Sammy asked.

“For example, she tells me it is normal in Schtat for close friends to hold hands. I noticed my guests doing so and thought to ask,” Lady Jeelyo said.

Sammy tried to keep away the knowing smile. “What other things?” she asked.

“Well, it is not unusual to kiss a friend on the cheek in greeting, but she sometimes asks for me to kiss her more like here,” Lady Jeelyo said, touching her jawline just below her ear. “She also says we should share a bed so we may talk late into the night and early in the morning. And she sometimes wishes for me to call her ‘sister’.”

That one word silenced any doubts Sammy may have had with regards to her intuition, now confident she knew who this friend was.

However, that was one matter, Lady Jeelyo another. “I should say that your friend has been misleading you. None of those are common in Schtish,” Sammy said.

“Oh,” Lady Jeelyo said, a touch of disappointment coming to her expression.

Sammy softly smile. “That said, I am of the firm belief that one should cherish the things which bring one joy. So while I implore you to have your friend be honest with you, I see no reason that you cannot both continue to do such things—if you enjoyed them too, that is.”

For a long moment, Lady Jeelyo was in thought, hands joined and unfocused gaze on the table between them. Eventually, she looked up with a small smile. “I suppose I did. After all, when I thought last night of how much fun my guests must be having together, I felt rather lonely and wistful.”

Sammy gently nodded. “If I may,” she said, “I would share one last advice.”

“Please do. I have always been fond of your wisdoms,” Lady Jeelyo said.

“There are many things one cannot do for the reason of propriety or honour or some other vague notion that means only what the speaker says it means. If they have no reason, they may even call it a sin. And yet, for one who thinks clearly with a kind heart, there is no need for such dogma. What should and should not be done is obvious and natural.”

Sammy spoke all that with nuance and delicacy, drawing in her audience of two—because how could Julie not also be captivated?

Lady Jeelyo clapped her hands together, beaming. “Oh how pretty! I have always said that, if not for your responsibilities, you would make a most splendid writer. Such a way with words.”

“Thank you,” Sammy said, her smile a touch wry.

Their conversation then concluded with a promise of lunch. Until such time, Sammy excused herself and Julie. Under a borrowed umbrella, they went out into town to check on their horses, rain now a drizzle, wind calm. Julie tried to dissuade Sammy while they walked, only for Sammy to remind her that exercise helped settle the symptoms.

So they took a meandering path on their way back, Sammy rather enjoying the intimacy of walking close beside her wife lest the rain wet them, what rain fell making a pleasant sound on the umbrella, the splish-splash of their footsteps.

By the time they returned, it was almost lunch. Sammy just had time to change her sanitary cloth and wash the old one. Fortunately for Julie, lunch was a simple affair of eating food, followed by a chit-chat. Sammy led her back to their room afterwards.

“How are you feeling?” Julie quietly asked.

“The exercise did me much good,” Sammy said.

For a moment, it seemed they would return to the seats by the window, but Sammy seemed to change her mind, walking them to the bed. No, to their packs. Julie grew curious and, as always, left her curiosity to eventually be answered by Sammy.

“Say, would you believe me if I lied and said, in ancient times, partners would wear necklaces instead of rings?” Sammy asked.

Julie tried not to laugh, her lips quirked into a smile. “Yes, I would,” she said.

“And, really, remember how we wore our ribbons like chokers? Rather like a necklace, I would say,” Sammy said, sure enough holding those two ribbons in her hand.

“Very practical,” Julie said.

Sammy turned to her with a sweet smile. “Indeed,” she said.

As heartfelt as their “vows” had been, Julie felt a certain weight, a something indescribable, when Sammy carefully tied the ribbon around her neck. It was neither too tight nor loose, secure, comfortable on her skin. And… it felt like Sammy was claiming her. Just as another wife could point to her ring and say she has a husband, now Julie could raise her chin, showing the proof of her marriage.

When it came to her turn to “claim” Sammy, she felt the other side of that emotion. Overly conscious of just what she was doing, of how Sammy trusted her to tie this, for some reason making her think of a fair maiden baring her neck for a vampire to feast on. Well, that probably came from being so focused on such a beautiful neck. Skin so pale, so soft, so smooth, more so than the silk ribbon.

Whether the situation or the fabric, Julie struggled to neatly tie the bow. But Sammy gently reassured the whole time. “Take as long as you need, as many times as necessary, to mark me.”

Julie was not an entirely innocent woman. She had read of marking, had accidentally left some marks on Sammy (and vice versa) during some of their more passionate making out. So, to hear Sammy phrase this as that, Julie felt her heart throb. Hands stilled, her mind returned to thoughts of vampires with her gaze firmly on that appetising neck.

Sammy was not an innocent woman, in either sense of the word. Seeing that look in Julie’s eyes, she tilted back her head, stuck her neck out, letting out a breathless whisper that went, “Julie.”

It soon became necessary to carefully position the ribbon lest others see how Julie liked to mark her wife.

The spark of passion dwindled, yet still entwined were they, deep in a lingering kiss. When they finally broke apart, each had a gentle smile. A warm smile. Books spoke of burning passion, but theirs came in waves and tides. Julie found it wonderful. There was the growing anticipation at the start in the way they looked at each other, the little touches. Then the intoxicating climax, lost in Sammy’s kisses and ministrations, trying to return them. And finally, this moment of breathlessness, mind empty, gaze full of Sammy—of her beloved wife’s beautiful face, touched by blush, eyes a little unfocused.

Reaching up, Julie cupped that pink cheek, felt it hot, felt Sammy lean into the touch. The feeling of being wanted so warm.

After all that, they had to redo the ribbons. This time, it didn’t lead to making out, but still finished with a peck. Julie’s thoughts returning, she brought Sammy to the bed to sit on it, Sammy in front of her, so she could reach around and rub Sammy’s abdomen.

The muscles there were tense, Julie’s fingers barely sinking in when she pressed. Slowly, she massaged, the muscles gradually relaxing. And the rest of Sammy relaxed too, her whole body resting against Julie, even her head lolling to the side, nestled against Julie’s head. Little sighs slipped from her lips, sounding so sweet to Julie. Breaths softened.

However long they did that for, both would have believed it to be time well spent. In the end, their antics took up an hour altogether, only stopping because Sammy needed to pee; she had been drinking a lot of water throughout the day.

Sammy made use of the timing to change and wash her sanitary cloth again. That out of the way, she took Julie for another walk, this time wandering around the docks in the intermittent drizzle. It wasn’t entirely leisure, asking the crews until she found one of the large ships that would be heading east in the morning.

Travels secured, they returned, arriving at the townhouse in the last hour of the afternoon. Sammy told Lady Jeelyo of their early departure and offered to entertain her before dinner instead of after.

“Oh of course—I shall inform the butler,” Lady Jeelyo said, and turned to do just that, switching from Schtish to Formadgian as she “asked” for the next day’s breakfast to be prepared early for the guests.

Once Lady Jeelyo was finished, Sammy said, “You have our thanks.”

“Please, this little hospitality is not worthy of praise from such esteemed guests,” Lady Jeelyo said, even punctuating her statement with a curtsey. “I am embarrassed there is not more we may offer.”

“A guest is only as worthy as the notice she gives,” Sammy replied, mirth in her eyes.

Lady Jeelyo was well-read when it came to Sammy’s nuances, tittering even as she waved Sammy off. “What is notice amongst friends? Besides, have I not invited you to visit every few correspondences? Is that not notice enough?”

“What is hospitality between friends? Have you not kept me warm and fed and shared such interesting conversations?” Sammy asked, tilting her head.

Lady Jeelyo giggled at that. “Let us agree to disagree and both feel indebted to one another, that we find time in the future to meet again.”

“Rather, let me play some of your favourite pieces and leave only you in debt,” Sammy said.

Lady Jeelyo softly shook her head, still smiling. “Very well.”

As much as Julie enjoyed listening to Sammy perform, she couldn’t focus. Her thoughts were pulled back to how happy Sammy seemed having that back-and-forth, reminded of their time back in Hopschtat with Mary—and Mary’s cousin. Even though she didn’t understand most of what Sammy and Yewry had spoken about, Sammy seemed to have been… very Sammy, full of mischief and wit and eyes full of knowing or humour.

Julie was keenly aware that this side of Sammy she so liked was a side she herself couldn’t bring out. That she couldn’t retort so easily, deferential, maybe even submissive. It was easy to believe Sammy always spoke the truth, always had their best interests in mind. And Julie wasn’t witty herself, couldn’t just reply with something else funny, ingrained in her to not speak unnecessarily.

That mood followed Julie to their bedroom after dinner. Sammy had picked up on it, but waited until now, not wanting to bring it up in front of Lady Jeelyo.

They sat on the edge of the bed, hands entwined. “Is something the matter?” Sammy asked, gently squeezing Julie’s hand.

Though Julie always tried to be honest with her feelings, she felt like she needed some more time. So she said that.

Sammy took Julie at her word.

Unsure how long she would need, Julie thought of something else to talk about for now. “Um, Lady Jeelyo… what do you think of her and her friend?” she asked.

Sammy hummed in thought. “You mean, do I think they are queer?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I certainly think Lady Jeelyo is a kind of queer. I have known her for many years and that friendship has mostly been about how we find women beautiful. However, her queerness is somewhat aesthetic—or so I thought. She only spoke of a desire to gaze, seeing women as living artwork. When she spoke of her friend, it sounded more like she was… genuinely showing interest in the acts themselves.”

When it came to such matters, Sammy certainly liked to be verbose. Julie followed along as best she could and felt like she understood the gist. “I see,” she said.

Sammy smiled, wry, almost teasing. “As for her friend, I believe it is, well, you may remember her as Lady Rouge?”

Julie stilled.

“If so, I am confident she is thoroughly queer. It seems that, after the scare at my birthday, she has embraced it, even borrowing some of my techniques,” Sammy said, stopping there to chuckle.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way for Sammy to know that bringing up Lady Rouge only exacerbated Julie’s earlier mood. Added to the stewing thoughts were Julie’s insecurities, knowing she also wasn’t as beautiful as those Sammy pursued before, sharpened by how it seemed Lady Rouge might be interested in returning Sammy’s queer feelings now.

Julie felt painfully inadequate. Truly painful, her heart aching at the thought of losing Sammy. But she didn’t understand just how much pain she was in until Sammy brought up a sleeve to wipe her tears.

There were no words, Sammy simply pulled Julie into an embrace. And Julie cried, shaking, and Sammy held her tighter the harder she shook, painfully tight. A good pain. It kept her focused on the moment and, in this moment, she was the one in Sammy’s arms, no one else. This moment where they were wife and wife, promised to each other until their souls were cleansed.

Once Julie had emptied her emotions, they stayed like that a little longer, then finally broke apart.

“How are you?” Sammy whispered.

Julie mulled over the question. As draining as the cry had been, it did crystallise the issue. With an ironic smile, Julie looked Sammy in the eye and said, “I’m not beautiful.”

It would have been easy for Sammy to hear that and disagree on instinct. However, she knew this matter was serious. Julie wasn’t one to cry over spilt milk. Not to mention, they had touched on this before, Sammy hoping to have conveyed her attraction by now. Apparently, she had failed.

So Sammy took this matter as seriously as Julie did.

“Am I beautiful?” Sammy asked.

Julie didn’t hesitate to nod. “I’ve not seen anyone even close,” she said.

Sammy softly smiled at the praise. “For all my beauty, a woman who is not queer cannot find me attractive. And even those women who are queer might prefer the look of, say, Yewry. A woman who shows less of her femininity, or emphasises her masculinity.”

Pausing there, Sammy brought up her hand and stroked Julie’s cheek, just the once.

“When I was younger, I did yearn for affection from my peers like Mary and Rouge, sometimes my feelings getting the better of me and turning into lust. I thought my attraction was to their femininity. However, I was wrong. I am simply attracted to women.”

After giving Julie a moment to process the words, she continued.

“Beauty is… something for art and books. You are correct to say you are not beautiful in the same way the famous paintings are, or beautiful like the protagonists in romance stories. However, you are beautiful to me in that I am attracted to you—that I lust for you.”

Sammy sealed her point with a kiss, deep yet brief.

“I want to feel the slight roughness of your hands as you touch every part of me. I want to feel your muscles strain as I touch every part of you. I want to hear your laboured breaths, your moans of delight, to hear you say my name in ecstasy. I want to know your scent, your taste. I want for you to know my scent and taste.”

This time, Sammy paused for herself, getting rather worked up.

“Say, would you carry me?” Sammy asked.

Off-balance as Julie was, she agreed. “Yes?”

So they stood up and Sammy guided Julie, leading to her being picked up in a bridal carry. Oh Sammy giggled, truly giddy, resisting the urge to move about lest Julie drop her. And though it strained Julie, she stayed sturdy. Sammy not too heavy.

After working through her giddiness, Sammy leant over enough to kiss Julie on the cheek and then said, “You can put me down now.”

Careful, Julie lowered herself until Sammy could stand up.

And instantly, Sammy turned around to scoop Julie into a bridal carry, her enthusiasm clear, near enough throwing Julie into the air she moved so quick. Caught off-guard, Julie gasped then laughed, something so euphoric about being “thrown up”, her stomach lurching for a weightless moment. Sammy didn’t stop there, holding Julie tight and doing half-spins. Laughter kept flowing from both of them the whole time.

When Sammy finally finished, she fell back onto the bed, Julie coming to be lying across her. They were a touch breathless, smiling.

“I thought I would never be carried like that,” Sammy said, barely a whisper. “If you won’t believe me when I say you are beautiful to me, then at least believe that the moments you give me are more beautiful than any person’s appearance. But you are beautiful to me. So very beautiful.”

Sammy played with Julie’s hair as she spoke, gently combing her fingers through it.

“I have tried to keep my gaze modest so as not to make you uncomfortable, but, if it is your wish, I will be more immodest,” Sammy said.

After a long second, Julie asked, “Do you mean that?”

“I do,” Sammy said.

Again, another long second, then Julie got up and said, “Close your eyes.”

Sammy did so unquestioningly. However, her ears stayed open and she heard the rustle, the gentle plop of clothes dropped on the floor. Her heart beat ever quicker, pushing prickling hot blood to her cheeks.

“You can look.”

Sammy didn’t need to be told twice, but sat up with some grace, slowed by the softness of the bed making it difficult. Once she did, she opened her eyes and lost her breath.

Julie was not the beauty written of in books or immortalised in paintings. Her undergarments weren’t flattering, a loose undershirt over her chest binding, barracks-issued drawers, all in the pale beige of unbleached linen.

And she was beautiful.

Sammy loved the way Julie’s tan blended, darker by her hands and feet, lighter where clothes covered; loved the subtle tone of her muscles—her calves, her biceps—and how they mingled with some fat. Sammy loved these new parts of Julie.

But Sammy also loved the shyness Julie showed, loved that—anxious as she was about her appearance—Julie still did this.

“May I touch you?” Sammy asked.

Despite the vagueness, Julie nodded, implicitly trusting Sammy.

Sammy did not betray that trust, her hands slowly, methodically, going over every bit of bared skin. And when her fingers weren’t good enough, she used her lips. Well, it didn’t take long at all for her fingers to become entirely useless, Sammy leaving kisses all over Julie’s legs and arms, stopping at the drawers and shirt. But she wasn’t finished with that, her rain of kisses falling onto the ends of Julie’s collarbones, the loose neckline of the shirt revealing them, and then up Julie’s neck, all along the jaw, even behind Julie’s ears.

As ticklish as it felt, Julie wasn’t laughing. Heavy breaths, sometimes stuck, coming out in groans, on the verge of trembling, tense, legs growing weak, weaker, by the end clutching onto Sammy’s dress to stay up.

If all that wasn’t answer enough, Sammy’s last kiss fell on Julie’s lips, deep, intense, but what made Julie’s knees finally go was the look in Sammy’s eyes when they broke apart.

Sammy caught Julie right away, eased her to the floor. Sitting there, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, that intense look of lust softened into the familiar love Julie knew well.

“Do you believe me now that I desire you as a wife desires her wife?” Sammy asked.

That gaze burnt into her soul, Julie said, “Yes.”

Sammy softly smiled, her hand gentle as it came up to stroke Julie’s cheek. “I am glad to have more of you to kiss.”

It was such a weird thing to hear, yet Julie loved it, something so Sammy about it. The Sammy only she would ever know.