Stardew Valley Lance - Blog Posts

Just had this unhinged crossover headcanon about my FOM farmer, Isaria, she's the cousin of my two SDV farmer sisters, Cerise and Rosemary. Now, imagine a family reunion where they introduce their lovers to each other. If you're confused, here's the lineup: Isaria is with Caldarus, Cerise is with Jio, and Rosemary is with Lance.

Now, picture how awkward that would be.

Caldarus is a dragon guardian of Mistria, Lance is a combat mage from the First Slash Clan, and Jio is not only an assassin but also an elf and a member of the Cult of the Lady with the Red Tail. Lance would probably be thrilled to meet an actual dragon, while Jio ever the cautious one would find Caldarus intimidating. Meanwhile, Caldarus though outwardly polite for Isaria’s sake, would remain on high alert, sensing the intense auras between these two men… and even those of Isaria’s cousins, especially Cerise.

Still out of respect for his farmer, he keeps his composure. But oh boy, the tension in that room would be off the charts.

[𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗 – 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚈𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙲𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝙶𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐]

[Cerise, Rosemary, and Isaria stand together while their partners linger nearby. The air crackles with unspoken tension.]

Lance: *grinning, composed yet intrigued* A dragon guardian… Quite the rare sight. It is an honor to meet you.

Caldarus: *soft-spoken, yet watchful* And you must be the mage Isaria spoke of. The honor is mine.

Jio: *arms crossed, unimpressed* A dragon, a mage, and an assassin in one room. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.

Rosemary: *muttering* More like a disaster waiting to happen.

Lance: *chuckles* Oh, I assure you, I mean no trouble. Though I must admit, meeting a dragon is… fascinating.

Caldarus: *calmly observing both men* Likewise. It is rare to stand among those who carry such powerful auras.

Jio: *lowers voice, glancing at Cerise* I don’t trust him.

Cerise: *calmly sips tea* You don’t trust anyone.

Isaria: *forcing a smile* Okay! Let’s all just sit down and eat, yes? No battles, no tension, just a nice, peaceful meal.

[Caldarus offers a polite nod, ever the composed guardian. Jio remains wary, and Lance though clearly intrigued respects the unspoken boundaries. Out of respect for their partners, they all (reluctantly) take their seats.]

Rosemary: *whispering to Cerise* Ten gold says something breaks before dessert.

Cerise: Make it twenty.

Summary: After stumbling upon a mysterious stone on Ginger Island, Rosemary unwittingly activates a portal to an unfamiliar realm, Terraria. Pulled into a bizarre and perilous world, she must navigate its dangers while searching for a way back home. All while acquiring an unusual collection of souvenirs, including a rather explosive pet. Meanwhile, her sudden disappearance throws her loved ones into chaos, sparking a frantic search across the world to bring her back.

A/N: This story was inspired by a tumblr post from @studentinpursuitofclouds about the Farmer opening a portal to Terraria for the Meowmere and ending up stranded. I couldn’t resist turning it into a full story! I love the idea of Rosemary getting isekai’d into Terraria, unfazed, while everyone in Stardew Valley panics. Expect adventure, chaos, and dramatic reactions when she returns. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

The story is a bit long, so you can read it on my AO3! That’s right, I finally have an AO3 account after what feels like a thousand years!

Summary: Cerise jumps to the worst conclusion, unleashes fury, then realizes her mistake while Jio quietly revels in the chaos.

The farmhouse stood quiet in the late afternoon glow, bathed in soft amber light. A faint breeze stirred the curtains, carrying with it the distant hum of the forest. The stillness was only broken by the slow creak of the front door as Lance pushed it open, supporting Rosemary with one arm.

“Easy...” he murmured, glancing down at her. His obsidian purple eyes softened with concern.

“Tch. I’m fine.” Rosemary grumbled, though her pale features said otherwise. One hand pressed against her side, a dark stain seeping through her shirt. Her rose-red hair, usually vibrant, clung to her cheek with sweat.

“You took a hit from Apophis. You’re not fine.” Lance’s tone left no room for argument. He tightened his hold when she stumbled. “Come on, your room’s closer. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Rosemary scowled but didn’t protest. The journey back from the Crimson Badlands had been rough. The encounter with Apophis had left her winded, the creature’s strike tearing through her defenses and leaving a gash along her hip. If Lance hadn’t been there... she shook the thought away.

As they entered the farmhouse, Rosemary glanced around. The place was quiet. Too quiet.

“Huh. Cerise isn’t here?” she muttered, wincing as she lowered herself onto the bed in her room.

“She must’ve gone out.” Lance said, fetching a roll of bandages and a bowl of water from the washstand. “We’ll get you patched up before she’s back.”

Rosemary lay back with a groan. “Just hurry up. I want to sleep after this.”

Lance knelt beside her, his hands deft but gentle. “Try not to move. This might sting.”

Meanwhile, outside the farmhouse...

The front door clicked open. Cerise stepped inside, brushing a strand of beige blond hair from her face. Her twilight-hued eyes swept the room, noting the faint scuffs on the floor, a sign of recent arrival.

“Rosie?” she called out.

A faint voice answered from down the hall.

“Hey, Sis! I’m here! Lance’s with me!”

Cerise raised a brow, slipping off her bonnet. So they’re back. A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Lance, you staying for dinner?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then I accept. Thank you, Cerise.” came Lance's muffled reply.

Before Cerise could respond, the door behind her creaked. She turned and her expression softened immediately.

“Jio.”

The brooding figure stepped in, his dark attire blending with the farmhouse shadows. His green eyes held their usual quiet intensity, but his expression softened when he saw her. Without a word, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around her waist with practiced ease.

“I missed you.” he murmured, voice low and warm.

Cerise chuckled, resting a hand on his chest. “You've literally seen me four hours ago.”

“Four hours is too long.”

A rare smile played at Cerise’s lips. “You're impossible.”

“I know.”

Their quiet moment lingered until Jio glanced toward the kitchen. “Need help with dinner?”

Cerise’s expression brightened. “I’d love that.”

An Hour Later...

The scent of a warm meal filled the farmhouse. The table was set. Cerise wiped her hands on a cloth, glancing at Jio, who was placing the last dish.

“I’ll get them.” she said, moving toward Rosemary’s room.

With her usual composed demeanor, she knocked on the door, voice calm but firm.

“Rosie. Lance. Dinner’s ready. If you don’t come out now, it’s going to get cold.”

Inside, Lance’s focused voice responded, “Hold still. I know what I’m doing.”

Rosemary’s sharp retort followed, “Easy for you to say! Just hurry up and finish already!”

Cerise paused. What?

Her brows furrowed as she leaned in.

“Ah—OW! Lance, gentle!”

“You could have told me it hurt there. I’m not a mind reader.”

Cerise’s eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling at the edges of her calm.

...The hell?

“I’ll do it myself!”, Rosemary snapped.

“Absolutely not." Lance said firmly. “You’ll mess it up. Lie down.”

Cerise froze. Her expression darkened.

Lie down?

“I still want to breathe when you’re done!” Rosemary growled.

“Relax. I’ve done this plenty of times. Trust me.” Lance’s teasing tone followed.

Cerise’s entire body stiffened.

“…What the actual—”

“Move your legs to the side. It’s hard to reach from this angle.” Lance murmured.

“Ugh… Fine. Just get in between—”

BAM!

The door SLAMMED open.

Cerise stood there, deadly aura radiating from her, twilight eyes sharp as blades.

“WHAT. THE. HELL. ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER, YOU—”

The room fell silent.

Lance blinked, still holding a roll of bandages. Rosemary sat on the bed, skirt slightly lifted to reveal the fresh bandage along her injured hip.

“…Cerise?”, Lance said slowly.

Rosemary tilted her head, confusion written all over her face. “Sis? Uh… you good?”

Cerise’s expression shifted from cold fury to blank realization. A faint blush touched her cheeks.

“…Oh.”

Without another word, she shut the door with a swift snap.

“Never mind. Dinner’s ready. Be out in five.”

Back in the Kitchen...

Jio glanced up from the plates, eyes narrowing slightly. “Everything alright?”

Cerise, face a mask of calm composure, poured herself tea. “Nope.”

Jio studied her for a moment. The corners of his mouth twitched. “You thought they were...?”

“Don’t.” Cerise’s voice remained flat, but the faintest flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

Jio let out a low chuckle. “You’re more overprotective than I thought.”

“Shut up.”

Meanwhile, in Rosemary’s Room...

Rosemary stared at the closed door. “What the hell was that about?”

Lance secured the final knot in the bandage, glancing at her with a teasing smile.

“Maybe she thought you were dying in here with all that noise.”

Rosemary groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “More like she thought you were killing me.”

Lance chuckled, brushing the strands from her face. “Her overprotectiveness is admirable. But I’ll have to work harder to prove I can handle you properly.”

Rosemary glared at him, cheeks flushing.

“Tch. Shut up.”

Later That Evening...

The air in the farmhouse kitchen had settled into a calm warmth as dinner finally commenced. The aroma of Cerise’s cooking filled the room, and soft clinks of cutlery echoed against the wooden walls. Rosemary sat at the table, pale but composed, her side wrapped in fresh bandages. Lance sat beside her, his movements calm and measured, occasionally glancing at her with quiet concern.

Cerise sat opposite them, maintaining her usual composed expression, though her eyes flicked to Lance every now and then—narrow, warning. Lance, for his part, met those looks with a steady gaze, though the tension in his shoulders suggested he felt the weight behind them.

Jio sat next to Cerise, his posture relaxed, arms folded across his chest as he watched the others eat. Every so often, he would glance at Cerise, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The memory of what he’d overheard from the hallway still lingered.

Cerise, however, kept her face stoic. She reached for her cup of tea, raising it with practiced calm.

But then, Jio leaned closer, lowering his voice so only Cerise could hear, his smirk deepening.

“Quite the scene you made earlier.”

Cerise froze, the cup halting just before her lips. Slowly, she turned her head, her twilight-hued eyes narrowing with a sharp glint.

Jio’s shoulders trembled slightly—slightly—as if he were struggling to contain his amusement.

And that was all it took.

Jio stiffened, the smirk faltering as sharp pain flared in his thigh. Cerise’s hand, deceptively delicate in appearance, had clamped down with surprising strength beneath the table. Her nails pressed just enough to make her point without drawing attention.

Jio inhaled sharply through his nose, glancing down before giving Cerise a sideways look. But she only sipped her tea with perfect composure, not even glancing in his direction.

Lance and Rosemary continued eating in silence, pretending not to notice the exchange.

Jio exhaled a slow breath, a begrudging chuckle escaping. “Noted.”

The moment passed, leaving the room quiet again—at least for a while.

Then Cerise lowered her cup, eyes sharpening as she turned her gaze toward Rosemary.

“Now then.” she began, her tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Mind explaining to me why you’re injured, Rose?”

Rosemary, who had been focused on her food, stiffened.

“Uh...", She glanced at Lance briefly, hoping for some backup, but when she noticed the pointed stare Cerise was giving her, a bead of sweat rolled down her temple.

“Well, you see—”

“Rosemary.” Cerise’s voice dropped a note lower.

Rosemary groaned, slumping forward slightly but straightening up when she realized Cerise’s glare was only intensifying.

“Okay, okay! We had a little run-in with Apophis. It wasn’t a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?” Cerise repeated slowly, her eyes narrowing further.

Rosemary laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head. “I mean... it could’ve been worse?”

Cerise didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her sharp gaze shifted to Lance.

Lance, who had been quietly eating, paused mid-bite. He lowered his fork with deliberate care, meeting Cerise’s gaze head-on.

The room grew still.

Cerise’s look wasn’t just one of inquiry—it was a silent reminder, one that said: You were there. You let this happen. Explain.

Lance held her gaze for a moment longer before exhaling softly.

“The beast caught us by surprise. Rosemary fought well, but the wound wasn’t something we could avoid. I took care of it.”

Cerise’s eyes narrowed further, studying his expression for any sign of hesitation. Lance didn’t flinch.

After a long pause, Cerise leaned back in her chair.

“Hmph. I see.”

But the intensity of her gaze didn’t waver.

Rosemary, still pale, glanced between the two of them, feeling the tension rising again.

“Uh—C’mon, Sis. It’s not like Lance wanted me to get hurt.”

Cerise gave a slow blink, gaze lingering on Lance for a few seconds longer before finally shifting back to Rosemary.

“...Fine. But next time, be more careful.”

Rosemary sighed in relief. “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”

Jio, watching the whole exchange with mild amusement, glanced sideways at Cerise. The faintest trace of a smile lingered on his lips.

Cerise caught the look and, without missing a beat, gave him a subtle side-eye warning.

Jio chuckled under his breath.

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but an unspoken tension lingered. Cerise’s sharp gaze had delivered its message clearly—she would always be watching.

Lance returned to his meal in silence, his hand brushing lightly against Rosemary’s, a silent promise that next time, he would be ready.

A/N: After reading @studentinpursuitofclouds headcanon about the bachelors/ettes' reactions to being kidnapped for revenge or ransom only for their furious Farmer spouse to storm in and rescue them. I felt inspired. I couldn’t help but write a version for Lance, blending it with my farmer OCs' backstories. Hope you enjoy the fic!

The moon loomed high over the farmhouse, casting its pale, silver glow across the quiet fields. The night was still, almost unnervingly so, with only the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. The greenhouse stood as a lone beacon in the darkness, its glass panels faintly aglow, sheltering a world of warmth and life separate from the cool hush outside. Inside, Rosemary moved among rows of flourishing crops, the earthy scent of soil and faint hum of lingering magic surrounding her. Yet, despite the comforting atmosphere, a knot of unease twisted tightly in her chest.

Lance should be home by now.

He had left at dawn, that familiar confident grin on his face, promising—promising—to return before sunset. She had believed him. Lance always kept his word. But now, as the hours stretched long past nightfall, the promise felt like a fading echo.

A message had come earlier, brief and reassuring. But Rosemary’s instincts screamed otherwise. She brushed her gloved fingers over the rough skin of a void root. The dark, twisted form seemed to absorb the soft light, pulsing faintly with ancient magic. She tried to focus on the task at hand—on the routine—but her thoughts kept circling back to one question.

Why isn’t he back?

Her pruning slowed. Water dripped from a nearby watering can. The silence grew thick.

Then it happened.

A chill—sharp and sudden—sliced down her spine.

Her breath hitched.

Her gloved hand froze mid-motion.

It wasn’t a sound. Not a shadow shifting in the corner of her vision. No. This was deeper. Internal. Like something inside her had snapped.

No...

The comforting aura of Lance’s magic, ever-present beside her own like a steady heartbeat—had vanished.

Gone.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“No.”

The word escaped her lips in a broken whisper. The trowel slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone path. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she stumbled back. Her gaze snapped toward the hills beyond the farmhouse. She reached inward—desperately—trying to find the familiar pulse of his magic.

There. Faint. So faint.

But still there.

A gasp tore from her.

Lance...

Alive. Barely conscious. But alive. Reaching for her.

Her hands fumbled for her phone. The screen blurred before her eyes as her fingers darted across it, moving faster than her mind could process. Only one number mattered.

The line rang once. Twice.

“Rosie?”, Her sister’s voice answered calm as ever, but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Cerise!!! I can’t feel him.” Rosemary’s voice cracked. “His magic! it’s gone—I don’t know what’s happening, what does it mean?”

Silence.

A silence that stretched for only a moment but felt like a lifetime.

When Cerise finally spoke, her tone had shifted, cool, sharp, edged with something Rosemary rarely heard from her sister: fear.

“No… they wouldn’t.” The words came as a whisper. Then, sharper, cold with realization: “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.”

Rosemary’s grip tightened around the phone.

“They must've took him.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“They took my husband.”

This time, her voice was low, dangerous, a quiet fury simmering beneath each syllable.

Cerise inhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “Most likely. If they couldn’t get my Jio, their next move would be—”

“I’m going.”

“Rose—”

“I’m not waiting around, sister.” Rosemary’s jaw tightened. Her ocean jade eyes—usually bright and warm—narrowed into cold flames of determination. “I’m getting my husband back. Whatever it takes.”

”Rosemary, wait—”

But the call had already ended.

Without hesitation, Rosemary snatched up her sword from the greenhouse floor. The blade thrummed with her magic, responding to her rage. She pulled on her dark cloak, fastened the clasp at her neck, and slung a pouch of potions over her shoulder.

She stepped out into the night.

She didn’t need a plan.

Only a direction.

Lance’s faint magic—like a whisper at the edge of her mind—would guide her.

“Hold on, love” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m coming.”

And nothing would stand in her way.

The room reeked of damp stone and stale air, a subterranean prison swallowed by oppressive darkness. The narrow space was barely lit by a flickering lantern that hung from a rusted chain in the corner, its dim glow casting trembling shadows across the concrete walls slick with condensation. The ceiling sagged low, pressing down like a weight upon the soul. The air itself was suffocating, thick with the scent of mold and the faint, undeniable metallic tang of old blood. A chill seeped from the stone floor, gnawing at the skin, while the silence—broken only by the rhythmic drip of water echoing from some distant corridor—felt almost unnatural. But worse than the cold or the damp was the lingering, suffocating aura of magic that clung to every surface, woven into the very air. It was a cruel enchantment, designed to sap strength, to suppress power. And it was working.

Lance shifted in the chair he had been bound to, the rough rope digging into his wrists. His head hung low, dark pink hair falling messily into his face. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, sharp and insistent, growing worse with each breath drawn in the magic-saturated air. His eyes flickered open with slow, deliberate effort. His arms ached from the tight restraints that hummed faintly with the same suppressive power in the room. Even the smallest attempt to draw upon his magic was met with resistance, a suffocating weight that dulled the spark he relied on.

A breath slipped from his lips—slow, frustrated, bitter.

The Second-in-Command of the First Slash Clan, renowned combat mage, captured.

Not by a rival clan worthy of his strength. Not in battle against some formidable foe.

No, by a group of low-ranking mafia thugs who had no comprehension of the power they were trifling with.

The humiliation stung, but it wasn’t the real issue gnawing at him. His pride could endure this. What he could not endure was the knowledge he had failed. Failed to see the ambush coming. Failed to protect what mattered most. With all his training, all his magical prowess, he should have burned through these restraints with a flick of his wrist. But this room—the entire place—reeked of the kind of magic meant to weaken him, suppress him, render him vulnerable.

Still, it wasn’t his own fate that consumed his thoughts.

It was hers.

The realization cut deeper than any blade.

They weren’t after him.

They were after Rosemary.

He had heard them, muffled voices beyond the door, carelessly assuming he was too weak, too broken to care. But he had listened. Every word. Every plan. The truth had struck him harder than any blow. They believed that taking him would draw her out. They thought Rosemary would come running, desperate and vulnerable—a perfect trap.

But they didn’t know her.

They didn’t know Rosemary.

She wasn’t some fragile woman to be lured like a helpless bird. She had Cerise’s blood in her veins—the blood of the Crimson Wraith.

And worse still, they didn’t simply want to use her as bait. No. Their plan was far more twisted. They wanted her alive. They wanted to mold her into a weapon—a new puppet assassin forged from the only sister of the Crimson Wraith.

The thought made Lance’s jaw tighten, his fingers twitching against the ropes. His entire being recoiled at the idea of anyone laying a hand on her. His Rosemary. His wife. The woman who had fought for her freedom, who had lived in the shadow of her sister’s bloody past but had never allowed it to define her. They thought they could twist her into something she wasn’t.

The audacity.

The rage brewed quietly beneath his composed exterior, his magic stirring despite the oppressive weight. He would burn this place to ash for even daring to think of touching her.

The door creaked open.

Rusty hinges groaned like a dying animal, breaking the stillness.

Lance lifted his head, eyes narrowing as two figures stepped into the dim light. One was tall, broad-shouldered, with a jagged scar slashing across his cheek—a permanent sneer carved into his skin. The other remained near the door, arms crossed, eyes dull with boredom.

The scarred man grinned, a slow, mocking curve of his lips.

“You know.” he drawled, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t married that red-haired bitch. We didn’t want you. You were never the target.”

He crouched, bringing his face close enough that Lance could smell the foul mix of tobacco and cheap liquor on his breath.

“We wanted her sister. Cerise. She was... valuable to us. But she escaped. Left everything behind, dragging her little sister along like a coward.”

His grin widened, malicious satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“But now? We have something better. You see, we realized something. What better way to replace the Crimson Wraith than with her own blood? We’ll take your precious wife, and turn her into the perfect weapon. Our new puppet.”

The words echoed in the damp room.

Lance didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. His face remained calm, far too calm.

But inside?

How dare you.

The air shifted.

Even bound and suppressed, his magic stirred, a quiet storm gathering, waiting. The ropes bit into his wrists, but they were nothing more than an inconvenience. He would burn this entire place to the ground before he let them touch her.

And then—

Footsteps.

At first faint, almost mistaken for an echo. But then louder. Steady. Unyielding.

The two mafia members stiffened. Their smug confidence faltered.

The pressure in the air built, thick and suffocating. The flickering lantern dimmed, shadows crawling further along the walls. The footsteps didn’t slow.

They grew louder. Closer.

And then—

The door exploded inward.

Wood shattered into splinters. The force of the blast sent fragments clattering across the stone floor. The oppressive magic that had choked the room recoiled instantly. For a moment, the air itself seemed to fear the figure standing in the doorway.

Rosemary stood there—fury incarnate.

Her rose-red hair blazed in the dim light, cascading behind her like a river of flame. Ocean jade eyes burned with unrelenting rage and fear, swirling with power she no longer cared to conceal. The aura surrounding her crackled with raw magic—a tempest on the brink of being unleashed.

“Where...”, she whispered, her voice low, trembling with restrained wrath, “Is my husband?”

The scarred man stumbled back. “Oh shit-!” he muttered in disbelief, glancing at his companion.

But the moment he moved—

Rosemary vanished.

A flash of purple swept through the air. Her blade glinted once, a crescent of death cutting through the dim light. With a scream, the scarred man flew backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch. The second man barely had time to react before Rosemary descended on him with relentless precision. Her strikes were merciless—graceful yet devastating. Every movement spoke of years of training, of lessons carved into muscle and bone.

They had expected a weak sister.

They received a force of nature.

The second man crumpled to the floor without a sound.

Silence fell.

Lance remained still, his gaze fixed on the woman who had torn apart his captors without hesitation. His heart thundered in his chest—not out of fear, but awe. She had come for him. She had shattered their illusions. She was magnificent.

Rosemary turned.

Her gaze softened the moment it met his. The fury faded, replaced by something far deeper—fear, worry, desperation.

“Lance.”

Her voice broke.

In two strides, she was beside him, dropping to her knees. Her hands reached for his face first, trembling as they brushed against his skin, as if afraid he would vanish.

“Are you—did they—?” Her voice cracked, unable to form the question.

“I’m fine.” His voice was soft but firm, though his smile faded when he saw the tears shining in her eyes.

“No, you’re not.” She gritted her teeth, glancing at the glowing restraints. Without hesitation, her fingers tightened around the ropes. Magic pulsed through her veins, rushing to her hands.

The ropes hissed.

With a surge of power and a cry laced with all the fear and rage she had suppressed, Rosemary ripped them apart. The restraints shattered into ash beneath her touch.

Lance didn’t move. He simply watched her—watched as she clung to him, as her shoulders shook.

“I thought—” she choked out, “I thought I was too late.”

Gently, Lance wrapped his arms around her.

“You weren’t.”

She buried her face in his chest. “I would have destroyed this whole place if they’d laid a hand on you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You were perfect.”

“No.” She pulled back slightly, her ocean jade eyes locking onto his, fierce even through the tears. “Not perfect. Just in time.”

And when Lance leaned forward to press his lips to hers, tender lingering. It wasn’t simply relief that filled the space between them.

It was a promise.

A promise that no matter who came for them next, no matter what shadows lurked in the past, they would face them—together.

A/N: Got this idea by my boyfriend's midnight musings. I find it pretty amusing and it inspired me to write this. This is my first post for this year, 2025. Enjoy! 🎉

Summary: Lance couldn't resist the urge to have a late-night chat with his sleep-deprived farmer.

It's currently night time in the Highlands, and after a late-night expedition exploring the cliffs and caves, Rosemary is too tired to go home, so she decides to sleep at her boyfriend's outpost. Lance doesn't mind, at least he gets to spend time with his beloved farmer. As they're going to sleep, the mage can't help but have random thoughts crossing his mind.

"Sweetheart, would you still love me if I were a worm?", Lance quietly asked his sleepy girlfriend.

Rosemary grunted and turned over in his arms, looking at him with her tired turquoise eyes. "What brought this on?", she asked, her voice heavy with sleep. Lance knew why he loved this woman. Instead of complaining about the late hour or ignoring him until he shoved her awake, Rosemary genuinely cared and took his late-night musings seriously - it was just part of who he was.

"I dreamed I was a human.", Lance said with total seriousness. "Like, just a regular human with no magic whatsoever."

"Sounds mundane.", Rosemary mused, trying to stay awake despite her drowsiness. Lance nodded and continued, "It was okay, but then I met you in that dream. And you were different, too. You were a warrior, strong and beautiful. But you wouldn't speak to me, just ignored me completely. It was like you didn't even know who I was."

Rosemary frowned but remained silent, thinking through Lance's words. He could tell she was trying to make sense of his dream-induced thoughts.

Lance took a deep breath and continued. "And the next thing I knew, I was a worm, just wriggling around in the earth. I thought 'How did this happen?' And you know what I realized, Rose?" Lance asked, pulling her even closer to his chest.

Rosemary nodded, her eyelids starting to feel heavier with each passing second, but she knew she needed to stay awake to hear his thoughts. She had learned that Lance's dreams were never really about the literal transformations he experienced but rather about some underlying fear or worry he had within him. And so, she listened.

"It was because you didn't love me as a human.", he revealed, his voice cracking slightly. "And since you didn't love me, there was no way you could ever love me as a worm. You wouldn't even acknowledge me in the dream, no matter how much I tried to talk to you."

Rosemary only rolled her eyes at Lance's revelation. She could see how upset he was and tried to comfort him. "Oh, love..." she began, but Lance cut her off.

"But then I thought, what if we were both worms?", Lance asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Rosemary rolled her eyes again at his persistent questioning. "Then we'd be digging the earth together forever in wormy marriage," she replied, before yawning heavily. "Does that make you feel better, love?"

Lance's face broke into a broad smile, and he nodded. "Yes, I think it does," he said, relieved that he could confide in his girlfriend. "I'm sorry for waking you." he apologized, feeling a little embarrassed. Rosemary gently caressed his cheek, telling him it was okay. "It's alright." she reassured him.

Finally, she couldn't help but ask, "And what about you, love? Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Lance pretended to think deeply about her question for a few moments, then answered seriously. "Worms are the most detestable creatures on Earth. I could never love you if you were one," he said with disdain.

Rosemary's mouth dropped open in surprise, then she burst into fits of laughter. She playfully hit him with a pillow for his blunt answer. "Don't be so mean, Lance!"

Lance grinned sheepishly, realizing his mistake. "Alright, I admit that was a bit harsh there." he conceded. "But you have to admit, worms are pretty repulsive."

Rosemary couldn't refute his point. They were both exhausted, and their random musings were starting to wear thin. But Lance wasn't quite done yet.

"Seriously, what would you do if we both suddenly woke up as worms?" Lance asked curiously.

Rosemary sighed, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. "Well..." she began thoughtfully, "I suppose we'd have to adjust to our new wormy lives together. I bet we could dig tunnels in the earth and make a cozy nest for us."

Lance nodded, somewhat impressed by her practicality, but still found worms repulsive. "And what about us as worms? Would we still... you know." Lance's voice trailed off, unable to articulate the rest of his question.

Rosemary giggled, guessing where his mind was heading. "Lance, we'd be worms. That's not exactly an ideal situation for that kind of activity. But who knows, maybe we'd still manage to find our own wormy way to show affection," she said with a chuckle. "Let's rest now, okay? We can continue these wild thoughts in the morning. I have a feeling you'll be even more ridiculous when you're not sleep-deprived."

Lance chuckled, realizing his tired mind was indeed making the conversation more bizarre. "Yes, you're right, love," he said, hugging her closer. "Let's get some sleep, and we can laugh about all of this in the morning."

Rosemary snuggled up to him and smiled. "Good night, Lance. I love you, regardless of whether you're a mage, a human, or even a worm."

Lance leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you too, Rosemary. Sleep well."

As the two drifted off to sleep together, wrapped in each other's arms, the conversation shifted from magical transformations to the simplicity of their love, proving that it surpassed all boundaries, be it human or worm.

I recently got these adorable perler keychains commissioned from an online shop here in my country, and I'm absolutely in love with them! They perfectly capture the cuteness of Aleia with her husband Sebastian. And there's Rosemary with her lover Lance, too. Ahhhh, it's so sweet. 🥺 I can't get enough! 😭❤️ I'm already planning to place another order for more customizations of my other farmers and their love interest NPCs. A huge shoutout to KnoTela Creations for creating such a fantastic masterpiece!