#Not entirely lore accurate pls forgive me

[trulyumai]

His Little Wife

Synopsis: Messmer is away, fending off the shadows of the land; for weeks, months, his wife awaits his return until finally, she's by her husbands side once more.

Pairing: Messmer x Reader (Pre-Fallen Messmer)

Warnings: None

A/N: Finals are kicking my ass. RIP to my GPA. Also, so anxious for the drop of the DLC, this man has invaded my thoughts. Because of no release yet, I can only go off of so much information/lore, some things I just had to fabricate.

Enjoy!

Listen and read with my Messmer playlist ! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Lv2RUNKH2voR45QP07ryd?si=WjtWV47iSiywnT7JhADyUg&pi=u-iz0Wfu53T36-

The crackling of fire danced across her pupils, illuminating the worried expression delicately held upon her face.

Glancing upon the door repeatedly, thoughts incessantly pushed and shoved into her mind. Fears, doubts, all involving one man.

Messmer; he was to return today. 

After a long voyage and incessant errands for his mother, he could finally retire home to his little cottage: his little wife.

With her index and thumb, she twirled the silver and gold inscribed ring placed upon her finger, circling it on and off as troubled worries paraded around with ease. 

Not being able to bear it once more she bolted up, needing something- anything to occupy the heavy mind she bore. 

Picking up the nearest broom, she heard a small, frail creaking of a door being unlatched. 

Her front door was inches open, the iron latch swung to and fro as the material of the door grinded against the floor. 

Pulling her shawl close, she skirted across the room before eyeing the garden entrance. It was pouring; the rain was coming sideways, she noticed, repeatedly making the woman blink the wet, unwanted drops from her lashes.  

The light shine from the Erdleaf flowers littered the stone clad walkway, making a perfect path to the cozy home the younger lady made home merely months prior. . 

Grabbing the door, she stubbornly tried to latch it closed once more, the wind fought with the action, pushing against it with a rebelling strength. 

Letting out a huff the girl placed herself entirely on the frame, letting the door shut with a loud slam. 

Reaching up and fiddling with the lock her hands were wet; slippery from the invaded droplets of rain. 

Finally having it closed her figure slouched against the wood, lightly out of breath and now soaked, the smell of petrichor invaded her senses, shoving past the natural wood and honey scent that usually parades around the cabin. 

It was then she noticed the figure standing just beside the fireplace, warming their limbs like they announced their being in the humble home. 

The tiny gasp that emitted through the air caught the gangly man's attention, slowly he tipped his head to the side to look at the woman. 

His darling wife. 

“Messmer,” shaky steps bounded towards the red-headed knight, to which he smiled at. Turning to meet her grasp he wrapped the length of his arms around her body and with ease lifted her so their gazes could meet, noses merely inches from one another. 

She laughed sweetly, touching the tip of her nose to his before descending down to place her plush lips onto his cracked and weathered ones. 

He was so tired, exhaustion seeped through his bones like a newfound plague and if he concentrated enough, little black dots would enter the spaces between his vision, signaling for the man to rest.

He ignored the blackened shapes, blinked them away as his little wife littered his battered face with small, sickly sweet kisses. 

“My Lady,” Oh, by the gods she missed the deep timber of his voice, how it resonated just right with her ears, nestled safely between her heart and mind, and echoed between the cavities of her chest. 

“I've missed you, Darling!” Tears sprung from the woman's face and he could do nothing but coax them away. His hands were massive, engulfing the whole side of her face before swooping under her eyes, dismissing the flowing liquid entirely. 

“And I, you. I apologize for the delay, my sweet, there were more filthy curses laying about than usual.” 

Ah, curses. It was his job to protect the golden order; lay waste to any ill fit redeemers that defied the natural rule. 

With Godwyn holding dominion over the Golden Order, he was soon to be King of Leyndell. Now, his mother stepped in, ordered more protection, and more soldiers to be present in the East and West ends of the capital. 

This meant that everyone had to be present and in support of his newfound excellency. Even Messmer. 

“They don't deserve you,” she mumbled against his neck, tracing her fingertips up and down the column of his throat. 

“Perhaps not, but mother does not seem to understand my devotion just yet.” 

He walked, not bothering to hold onto her as each of the woman's legs was tightly wrapped around his torso, with her arms looping around the muscles of his shoulders. 

Messmer reached out, grabbing the oak railing around the stairs before ascending up, trying but failing to ignore the sloppy kisses below his jaw. 

Noticing the kept bed he softly growled, grabbing the woman's legs with a newfound strength and lightly shoved her on the soft furs. 

“Thou hasn’t been sleeping?” 

It was then he took in her state; the darkened bags, messy hair and wrinkled clothing. 

Smiling sheepishly up at the man no words needed to be said, the answer was clear.

Blowing air from her mouth she moved the strands of hair that littered her face, they blew with the pressure, lightly tickling the man that stared down at the woman. 

Too tired to argue he sighed instead, shrugging off his armor and worn down boots.  

Not bothering to fall as gracefully as his wife he allowed his legs to give out, toppling onto the woman even as she let out a desperate squeak. 

Before entirely crushing her with his weight, he places his elbows on either side, digging his nose into the side of her face. 

He dreamed of this moment for weeks. 

The rain slammed against the wood of their home and usually, he would be worried of its pressure. 

But today, he would clear his mind. 

He would simply cease to be, with his darling little wife sleeping soundly under him. 

Yes, the order could wait. 

For how could he spread such a message of hope when his wife missed him so?