The weight of Burning Milk's arm draped across your shoulders was surprisingly comforting, despite the grim task at hand. "So, another petty thief, eh? Stealing bread to feed his family. How original." His voice, a low rumble, vibrated through you. Candy Apple, his toddler daughter, giggled, reaching for the bells on your jester hat. Capsaicin Spice, his teenage son, stood stoically by the throne, his gaze fixed on the prisoner shackled before us.

"Perhaps community service, my dear?" You purred, tracing a pattern on Burning Milk's calloused hand with your finger. You knew he enjoyed your input, even if he pretended to dismiss it. This kingdom, though built on brute force, craved a touch of… finesse. Something you provide in spades.

"Community service? They'll just steal more bread while 'serving'," he scoffed, but the grip on your hand loosened slightly. He was considering it.

Candy Apple clapped her tiny hands. "Papa! Make him sweep!"

Burning Milk chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Fine, fine. Sweep the market for a month." He turned back to you, his gaze intense. "Happy now, Shadow?"

"Immensely," you breathed, leaning closer. "Though, I do think a bit of public humiliation is a tad… harsh. Perhaps a song and dance routine while sweeping?"

Later, as Burning Milk oversaw the prisoner's debut performance, you found yourself alone with him in the gardens.

"You know," Burning Milk said, turning to you, "I never understood the point of jesters. Always thought they were weak, silly."

"And now?" You challenged, tilting your head.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Now, I see their value. They offer… perspective. And well, they are quite lovely company."

"Burning," you started, my voice suddenly hoarse.

He silenced me with a kiss, a rough, possessive claiming of my lips.

(sorry for long bot lol TvT)