(Spicy) I'll Believe It If You Stay, Part Three

Hello, everyone!

Thank you all so much for reading and for your continued support! This month's POV shows a very fun moment in DC's past, way before they received the title of Dragon Commander. During DC and Mandra's three-day graduation party, a lot happened, but nothing managed to impact Mandra as much as the last night they spent together in The Ogre, a quasi-famous tavern (the only tavern) near Academia grounds, hours away from Opala.

These 2.5k words are filled with tiny details about some secondary characters, and massive insights into Mand's head. Hopefully, this short story will also shed some light on some of Mandra's actions during the flashback chapter in the game. This one is the "Part three" because it shows the third day of the party, haha! I hope to write the others soon, cause it feels like it'll be a lot of fun. >8))

This one isn't really NSFW, btw, but it does have some spice.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

Big hug,

Ligia

(Spicy) I'll Believe It If You Stay, Part Three

8:39 - Last night of the 3-day graduation party, 03:43 AM

— MANDRA —

Mandra let out a raspy sigh and ran a hand through their hair.

Weak. Coward. Pathetic.

This whole thing had turned into a disaster of epic proportions. After everything that happened in the past two days—the "joust tournament" that had MC mounted on Mandra's shoulders, after the moment they had shared in the lake, then the little accident with the bottle of cachaça, their conversation back in their room, and then (accidentally) plunging into a bathtub together, getting half-naked together and almost kissing for the first time—after all that, things had only gotten worse between MC and Mandra.

Three days of celebration. Three days of having all the chances luck could ever offer them, and they still hadn't found the courage to say what needed saying and do what needed doing.

And MC had tried, they really did, but Mandra was… well.

This.

Whatever "this" meant.

They groaned and rubbed their face harder. They didn't know what was happening, even after they talked ad nauseam about it. Mandra didn't know where the hesitance came from. What they did know was that they had rejected MC's advances not once but twice. And MC, like any decent person, had left them alone.

Mandra threw back the rest of their cachaça and batted the glass on the bar top.

Weak. Coward. Pathetic.

And the quietness in the tavern seemed to agree with them. It seemed to mock them, reminding them that their time had ended and their chances would soon end too. Most of the other now fully-fledged Knights were already in bed, either on their own or with someone else, and Mandra was here, getting ready to take MC back to the castle and hand them back to Mathias once more.

They turned around and leaned back against the bar top. MC wasn’t even around anymore. Were they asleep already? They scoffed. That would be great.

"Goddess, I’m a dumb piece of—"

"Mand!"

The shout made them jump, and Mandra looked around to find Valência's widened eyes. She was still half-covered in blue paint, purple dust, and flowers, with a big wooden medal around her neck that titled her “best-knight-friend.”

"Hey, Val, what's—?"

"There's no time, you need to come now." And without any type of explanation, she grabbed the wrist of their good arm and dragged them to a smaller room to the left that Mandra didn't even know existed until then. "There! I can't say if they'll punch or kiss Niccolo, and I can't stop them! You have to do something."

Mandra’s eyebrows shot up. The dimmer light in the room was enough to help recognize the small crowd in the center of it. Niccolo Hansdotr and a group of the worst young Knights in Opala surrounded a small table covered with Belle cards.

With only a quick look, Mandra recognized MC's favorites. They must've been attempting to trade some new cards for their collection; if the rare Gaito card in Niccolo's hand was any indication, he had tried to interfere. Mandra growled. Like always, Niccolo Hansdotr was acting like a little troublesome fuck who needed to be put in his place.

"Hey. Hey!" Mandra started to push their way to the center of the crowd. "Honestly, Niccolo, I—"

The slap was so loud and so hard, it left them speechless. The crowd snickered or laughed while MC straightened and shook their hand. Niccolo stood in place, eyes widened, one of their cheeks reddening.

"How dare you!" he cried. "You—"

"Shut. Up," MC said in a tired voice. They snatched the card from Niccolo's hand and made a show of slipping it into the collar of their shirt. They glanced at Mandra and set their eyes on Niccolo again. "I'm so tired of you rich bastards who can't make up your minds. If you want to trade cards, let's do it. If you want to fight me, then punch me!" MC grabbed Niccolo's collar and brought him close. The crowd cheered.

"Oh no. I knew this was going to happen," Valência muttered. "Mand, go."

Mandra scoffed. "Why? They're doing a good job."

"Not for long, believe me," Valência said.

MC only stopped when their breath fanned the locks of curly hair framing Niccolo's face. "But don't pretend," MC growled, "that you don't want to kiss me."

Mandra's eyes widened.

Niccolo let out a gurgled, high-pitched, pathetic little sound and tried to step away as MC leaned in, but Mandra stopped them, way before their brain fully processed what was happening. Mandra lowered the hand that had covered MC's lips and laced an arm around MC's chest. They dragged MC away while Niccolo staggered a step back, now both of their cheeks flushed, his eyes widened, his lips half-opened.

Mandra ignored the shouting, laughter, and the expression on Niccolo's face while they wrapped MC's arm around their neck and, in a swift motion, tossed them over their good shoulder.

"Don't run away!" MC shouted while Mandra carried them. "I'll break your face! I'll crack you open, Niccolo, come back here! Come back here, you fuck, where are you running to?"

Mandra couldn't help but chuckle a little, the little knot of discomfort in their stomach still there.

"Face me, you prick. You coward prick!" MC shouted, kicking their legs.

"I'll get your cards," Valência said, racing to the table and slapping the hands that reached for the rarest of MC's collection.

And as Mandra carried them up the stairs, they wondered if MC was really talking about Niccolo… or someone else entirely. Their wounded arm was already burning when Mandra put MC down and unlocked the door to their room.

"There. Now sleep that off, will you?" Mandra said.

"I don't need to sleep that off," MC said, crossing their arms. They tried to stifle a yawn.

"Sure." Mandra pushed the clothes on the floor to make a more-or-less safe path to MC’s bed. “Go on then.”

With a sigh, MC entered the room. The door closed with a soft thud. "I… was talking about you, you know," MC muttered under their breath. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to kiss Niccolo Hansdotr." They yawned again. "I wanted to see if you would stop me."

"Mhm."

"He ran from me. While you were carrying me away."

Mandra chuckled.

"I'm serious!"

"Oi, I believe you. And I—" They sighed. "I… figured. That you were talking about me. And all that." Mandra tugged at the thin blanket on MC’s bed and gestured at it.

MC sat on the edge of the mattress. "And do you have anything to say about that?"

A beat of silence.

"Hum. I'll help you." Mandra pointed at MC's boots, and they let out a long sigh. Mandra knelt in front of MC to tug one of their boots free. "Just… get some sleep, and I promise we'll talk once you wake up. All right? We’re both drunk."

MC hummed. "I'm not sure if I believe you." They poked Mandra’s side with the tips of their toes, then laughed when Mandra tried to catch their feet.

Shrugging, MC leaned back, their hands on the bed to support them. In any other context—kneeling between their legs, looking up at them as they watched Mandra work—this image would be the very fabric of Mandra's dreams.

In this, it was nothing but frustrating. For both of them, if the soft flush on MC's cheeks was any indication.

"What, did I ever break my word?"

"Hum. No. But I think this time might be the first," MC whispered.

Those words gave them pause. The second boot finally came out, and Mandra placed both of them beside the bed.

"There you go." Mandra sighed and tried to stand, but MC placed a hand on their shoulder.

"I'll believe you if you stay."

Mandra blinked. "Stay…?"

"You told me to sleep it off. You promised to speak to me once I woke up." They leaned in. "I'll believe it if you stay.

Mandra sighed and stood, never breaking eye contact. They glanced at their own bed on the other corner of the room, then at the dark sky outside. "Very well. I’ll stay, then."

And have a potentially damaging and emotionally taxing conversation tomorrow. Sure.

They walked around MC's narrow single bed toward theirs, but MC snatched their arm and tugged. Mandra fell heavily at their side and almost rolled off it, but MC wrapped an arm around their chest and brought them closer.

"I saved you," they say, their chest pressed tight on Mandra's back.

In more than one way. "My hero," Mandra answered with a scoff, trying to ignore the shiver that rippled through their body.

MC slipped back toward the edge of the bed, bringing Mandra with them until they were both barely comfortable. Then, the already dim light in the room went out.

"You're a problem," Mandra muttered.

"And you're a cat. A stray cat."

There was a rustling of fabric, and a thin, worn blanket was tossed over Mandra's body. "Are you cold?" MC asked.

Not with you here. "No."

"Good. I'm rather warm."

More rustling. Buckles opening, leather cords being tugged at, hidden daggers falling to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Mandra whispered.

"Getting ready to bed—it's what you told me to do."

A naked leg touched Mandra's; they tensed up. Swallowing, they turned around and found MC's eyes in the almost-darkness. Mandra let out a relieved sigh when they saw MC was still wearing their linen shirt at least.

"What?" MC said, a laugh laced in their words.

Mandra sighed. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe how close they were, but they didn't remember ever seeing MC as attractive as they looked right now. It wasn't just the lips or the eyes… it was the softness of their gaze, the warmth of their breath hitting Mandra's face. It was the intimacy. The silence. The privacy that they never seemed to share.

Mandra placed a hand on MC's arm. Warm skin, scars, bruises. A warrior's arm. An arm that reacted to the touch, goosebumps forming on it. Mandra swallowed.

"Do you like the reaction you have on me?" MC whispered.

They did, so they nodded. But they didn't know how long they could enjoy it. They didn't think MC would have those reactions for much longer. Once they were back in Opala, once Mathias was an option again, maybe they would change their mind.

Hopefully, they would change their mind.

Still.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Mandra whispered. Their calloused hand slipped to the side.

From MC's shoulder to their collarbone, sliding down the side of their chest (almost as if moved by shyness), their waist, the curve of their hips, and finally the edge of their shirt. Was it weird to think that they knew every one of those curves and edges? Mandra had been watching them for so long that touching MC like this felt almost… familiar.

Short nails brushed their way up MC's chest, now braver. They met hard muscle and soft skin, they traced bone and pinched nipples, they—

MC leaned in for a kiss, but Mandra reeled back, smirking. With a grunt, the first let their head fall on the pillow again.

"A stray, gruff beast that wants to set the tempo for everything around them,” MC mumbled. “That's what you are. A cat with a watch."

In the back of their mind, they knew that avoiding that kiss was exactly the same thing they've been doing the whole day: a product of their own fear.

Kissing MC now, accepting their affections now, making MC theirs now (moaning, sweating, clinging to Mandra, whispering, crying out their name) and then losing them would… break them.

To have them and to lose them—unbearable, intolerable, a pain they refused to even think about.

Mandra forced a chuckle. "You wouldn't like me if I were any different."

A sigh. "No, Mand. I want you in spite of it."

Want.

Mandra swallowed. Almost without Mandra's permission, their fingers slipped under MC's crude shirt.

They weren't wearing any undergarments. Mandra hummed, but the sound was closer to a moan than they'd like.

Want.

They leaned in, whispering a soft apology that was barely louder than a thought. Their foreheads touched, and the soft, wet, cold touch of a lip met theirs. Not in a kiss, but in something akin to a test; MC did nothing but breathe and allow the proximity this time. Maybe they sensed that any sudden moves would scare the stray away.

Their hand moved downward. One thumb slid to the side, meeting the warmth of naked, delicate skin. They felt the pulse of a heartbeat on their fingertips. Mandra bit their lips. Going any further than that would….

Mandra swallowed.

"Go on, Mand," MC whispered. "Please, please."

That made them smile. Smirk, more like, as a shark with too many teeth or a wolf who'd just found their mate. Want.

The thought… scared them.

Mandra licked their lips, but their tongue touched MC's lips by accident, and they must've seen it as an invite. We’ll go back to Opala tomorrow. MC leaned forward with an impatient moan, arms wrapping around Mandra's shoulder, and the way Mandra's heart squeezed in their chest, the way their entire body burned, millions of needles brushing maddenly-soft against their skin was just…

Too much.

To have them and to lose them.

They would lose them.

Mandra let out a sound. Pained, almost, wrapped in fire, and as wet as they already were. Mandra cursed and sniffled, jumping to their feet and reeling back until their back hit the wall on the other side of the room.

"Mandra—"

I can't lose them.

Their words from before returned louder. "I'm s-sorry" was all they could say, scrambling to stand and leave the room.

The door closed with a bang behind their back.

The only certainty they had was that, in the end of it all, MC would choose Mathias, not them. The King. The man with the biggest heart in the kingdom. The man who could change the world for the better if only he stopped letting fear control him.

It hit them then, full force, and in a way they had never experienced before. It unraveled, really, like the bandages on their arm yesterday, being gently pulled by MC's hands. Like airing a wound that had been festering on Mandra's heart for the better part of a decade.

Mandra was doing the exact same thing.

They took a deep breath then. When they finally gathered enough courage to go back inside, MC was already sleeping, so, grieving, they did the same thing. They slid on their empty, cold bed. And they slept.

Mandra and MC didn't talk the next day.

Mandra hadn't stayed, after all, and MC was very much right about that. This was the first time Mandra broke their word.