abetterlovedeservingof asked you:
A ficlet about Snowbunny, perhaps?blackcatula asked you:
Snowbunny! (Ice Queen/Fionna)
She stomps into the castle uninvited as always: throws free her rucksack and tosses away her sword. As the blade goes clattering into the kitchen—“Wenk!” chides Gertrude—she folds, falling facedown onto the couch across the Ice Queen’s unsuspecting lap. Frost gleams in the ragged twist of her hair, and the slush on her boots drips to the floor to craft small, shimmery puddles. Thwip-twip-thwip.
“As I’ve told you three times already,” says the monarch, “I won’t consent to a duel with you until I am finished with this.” She scarcely glances up from her magazine, but her mouth puckers and she continues, “Tsk. You’re making a mess.”
“Simoooone,” groans Fionna. Into the Ice Queen’s thigh she thrusts an elbow, squirming: when she turns her face sidelong to the older woman’s stomach, the heat of her cheek and brow sears through the fabric there. “I’m tired of waiting, glob, and it’s snowing buckets and I—”
Dropping her magazine to curl her fingers about the ears of Fionna’s hat, the Ice Queen pulls the girl’s head aloft. She interjects delicately, “Patience, my dear”—against the swell of Fionna’s throat her other hand curves, nails grating—“is quite a virtue.”