Rosette Valeria

This is 100% NSFW. Spicy writing ahead - please be kind. I don’t normally post spicy writings publicly.

Written with permission from Landon Arivant.

Not my spiciest of smut writings, but I haven’t written it in a while.

Story under the cut.

She collapsed back onto the training mat, chest heaving as she struggled to get in enough air but a wide, feral smile was on her face as she stared up at the ceiling. A slightly hysterical giggle came from her as she flung her arms up over her head.

Her nose bled actively, she could taste the coppery metallic liquid in the back of her mouth. Her hands positively ached, her joints feeling like they were on fire and her cuticles were bleeding. She could feel the blood drip from them and from underneath her hands. Had she wrecked them? Yeah. Was it worth it?

Hell fucking yes!

She was inordinately proud of her results: she had managed to hold a small ball of her aether for a full two minutes. Completely under her control, condensed and pulsing in sync with her own heartbeat.

Then it exploded outward, the scorch marks on the floor and the blisters on her hand were evidence enough of that. 

Another hysterical laugh came from her.

It was chaos in the streets of Ul’dah, people ducking into buildings and over hangs while cries of panic could be heard. Merchants hastily covered up their more delicate wares, looking to the sky as if another Calamity was happening. Rose was tucked underneath the extension of her roof that shielded her small garden as ice pellets fell from the sky. While it was a rare occasion, it did occasionally hail in Thanalan when the weather was right. 

Rosette stood in front of the full length mirror, smoothing the midnight blue silk across her abdomen and hips. She turned to the right, checking her side profile and then did the same for the other side. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, twisted up in a knot at the base of her skull with ebony ringlets falling from it.

She carefully adjusted one that fell in her face, her kohled cerulean eyes following her movements in the mirror. She took a deep breath and began to pull on the white silk gloves that went with it. It was an important night: she had to gather as much information as she possibly could about the business partner Alistair was working with now - both of them taking aim at her.

She had a part to play, people to flirt with and palms to grease. She hated doing this and, at this point, she was grateful that Landon was away. She would be incredibly tempted to bring him with her, to fend off the appraising looks and the salacious leers. Like she was a prize to win, a ripe peach to pick from a tree to add to their fruit bowl.

Rosette stared at Murdock’s report, tilting her head a little and her eyes narrowed.

Finally. Finally her enemy made a move. No more waiting. Not more biding of time.

Finally, she could begin to work on avenging Aurora. She would ensure that his luck would turn into the worst vicissitude he’d ever known.

It was a nice day out today, if a little chilly. Fall’s come to the Lavender Beds as it usually does and I opened all of the windows in my personal quarters in the House. The floorboards were warm from where the sun stretched across them and the curtains flutter in breeze.

A perfect day to sit in one of the armchairs and read the latest novel about a former Ishgardian Inquisitor in the age before the Dragonsong War, having a forbidden but incredibly explicit love affair with a woman who was proclaimed as a Heretic. A real enemies-to-lovers story and, by the Twelve, I enjoyed those types of stories. I am such a sucker for the redemption arcs.

Instead, here I am. In front of the mirror.

Again.

“Are you monologuing in your head again?” The Other Me scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Daydreaming about such a whirlwind romance? Does Landon even know?”

The mirror had caught my attention about a half hour ago. I had been in a rush this morning to get to a meeting and had hurriedly put on my make-up, leaving my stand up mirror perched on the harpsichord’s top.

Fucking hell, I needed to remember to stop doing that.

“Still prattling on in your own brain, Rosie.”

I glared at Other Me, lip curling. “I’ve told you before...shut the ever fuck up.” A cruel laugh followed, “Language! What would Emeline say?” My reflection tutted at me, only seeing her head this time. I refrained from rolling my eyes and hissing at her in response.

“You know what Mafrea would say if he knew about this? Or Landon? Seven Hells, Emeline might just put you in the Ritual Room just be sure you’re not possessed. Talking to a mirror. You really have cracked, you know.” She kept on tutting and rebuking me, causing me to shift uncomfortably.

Her voice was grating, going on about what certain peoples’ reactions would be if they knew about her. Other Me. I knew it was all in my head, that maybe my own self-criticism had taken form. Or that maybe I had finally cracked. Maybe it was all of the alcohol that I had drowned myself in over the years? Maybe all of the head trauma?

“And Aurora! If they were here and they found out--”

I snapped and reacted then, picking up the mirror and pitched it out of the window with all of the accuracy of one of my throwing knives. A slow smirk curved my lips when I heard the glass shatter in the courtyard.

The reflection smiled back at me as I stared into the polished glass, arms braced against the counter top where the water ran freely into the wash basin. We shared the same ebony hair with more and more strands of silver weaved into it from years of stress and attempts at aether use. The same freckles adorned the bridge of our nose and cheekbones, the same scar from Alistair’s signet ring woven through them.

The woman smirked, an expression that I did not return. Instead, I remained stone-faced with a faint furrow between my brows. I was covered in blood from the recent Hunt that I was called to - I tried to spare my people from some of the heavier duties as Midnighters. They needn’t know. “They needn’t know, hm?” My reflection parroted back at me as I bent down and began washing the blood from my face. Some of it was mine, the cut in my scalp had bleed like a fucking waterfall. Some of it was from our quarry, a mage that had brokered far too many deals with voidsent and ended up sacrificing a young woman who was just barely 16 summers. The rest of the sticky, flaky substance was the remnants of another Hunter - Wisp, had been his moniker.

The voidsent that had carved his chest open as he attempted to be the group’s shield was an image that I could still see on the back of my eyelids. How long would that be there? 

“Likely for the next several weeks,” the Other Me idly replied, a soft laugh coming from her. “What will you tell Jac when you cannot sleep?”

“That the night terrors are back.”

“Lie.”

My gaze snapped up at her and I countered sharply, “Truth.”

The Other Me snorted derisively, “If you’re going to argue with me over a technicality, then you have really cracked, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes and glared at her, my face dripping with red-tinted water as it drip-drip-dripped into the wash basin. “Fuck off, whore.”

I blinked and the Other Me was gone, leaving the mirror with just...Me.

CW: Mentions of prior alcoholism.

“I’ll be back from Carteneau soon, Rosie.” Her father kissed the crown of her head as she bowed it to him in respect, then he stepped back to grip her by the shoulders to look her over. He was dressed in a Flame Captain’s gear, she noted the colors as she lifted her head. The man was good with a sword, a rapier in fact. He knew his way around controlling aether, a Red Mage by many standards.

One of the many failings Father often tutted about.

“Yes, Father. Be safe,” the words felt automatic as they came out of her mouth and she looked up at him. She offered a smile, their whole family gathered to see him off.

“We’ll talk about your betrothal to Lord d’Alleros upon my return. The announcement will be posted as soon as possible.”

Rosette’s stomach churned at the thought of the arranged marriage that loomed, wishing she was in the field with Arik and Mafrea instead. She should have never returned home. “Of course, Father.”

As the red moon fell and Bahamut laid waste to the armies in Carteneau, though she feared for her friends...she was ever so grateful that the arranged marriage never went through.

Rose’s blood boiled whenever she saw another Monetarist abusing their Retainer or servants. She seen her “peers” backhand maids, embarrass their Retainers, and dump full glasses of red wine on their butler’s uniform. She hated having to pretend to turn a blind eye on it to keep her standing within society.

However, she always made sure to treat her own people with an incredible amount of respect. She cared for her Retainers and anyone under her employment. In the world of the ‘lower classes’, Rosette Valeria was known as a damned good boss.

**Written on Day 18 as a make-up!**

It was no secret that Rosette enjoyed reading. She studied theories of magic and aetheric manipulation. She delved into some more...darker topics, such as rituals and blood magic, including journals of mages that had gone off the deep when they were addicted to ether potions.

Her favorite though? Novels. Particularly romance novels. Dashing heroes and heroines, thick plot that could evoke emotion in her. Nail-biting cliffhangers, enemies-to-lovers, and happily ever after endings.

And the spicier, smuttier the novel the better.

She had so many of them, bookshelves in her office, in her room at the House, and her house. Series, stand alone stories, and from so many authors.

**Written on Day 18 as a Make-Up**

Rosette sat quietly in the atrium right outside the Alchemists’ Guild in Ul’dah, watching people travel to their destinations and talk amongst themselves. Her head tilted a little, eyes half-lidded as she contemplated a thought that had wormed its way into her mind.

Was it is so strange that she, as a Monetarist, didn’t claim The Traders as her guardian deity? Why was it shocking that she felt Nymeia, The Spinner, was the one she felt closest to? Fate was always in play, the strings of the tapestry that Nymeia wove had a tendency to get tangled and untangled.

Was Nald’thal important? Yes. She left leavings for them at least once a year in the places that were dedicated to them in thanks for fair winds and good tidings.

She sighed softly, threading her fingers through her hair. She wouldn’t conform with the expectations of others in Ul’dah.

The targets were set in clear defined rows outside the House, the side yard specifically set aside for outdoor training.

Rosette grinned and flicked her wrists, small throwing daggers settling comfortably in her palms. She had a habit of not normally letting their enemies drone on and on. “Villain monologues are so cliché,” a phrase she had used often when using her throwing daggers.

She burst into motion, each blade hurtling end over end until the tip collided with the clay pots - causing each to shatter.

Years.

It had been years since Alaric’s fuckery with mirrors and, every now and then, she still caught herself in a deep rooted fear as she met her own gaze in her reflection. Rosette could still remember the woman on the other side changing, sneering at her as cerulean eyes turned to silvered mirrors.

She could still hear the whispered ‘hello?’ and ‘g o o d b y e’ echo in her head. Even now she had difficulty meeting her own gaze in the mirror - but she forced herself to do it. She no longer draped a cloth over every mirror in home, that had took practice.

Slowly, she was wearing down her own phobia. Reminding herself that Alaric was dead, shattered into pieces and gone from this world. It took so much fucking work that she found the small hiccups annoyed her. That the memories popping into her head as she was brushing her teeth in the morning, nearly making her choked on her own toothpaste would take her by surprise. They would anger her.

To the point she had likely spent hundreds of gil replacing mirrors when her fist connected with the polished glass in frustration, shattering it and slicing open her knuckles. 

Even then, shattering it reminded her that she had the power now. That she was in possession of her own mind, her own body. That she no longer had any reason to fear. It was a glorious and empowering feeling, to know that she could shake off that last vestiges of that evil creature’s power. That she would sever his last connection to the world of the living.

It helped, too, that sometimes in the morning Landon would come up behind her as she prepared for the day. He would slide his arms around her from behind, bare from the waist up and she could feel the warm of his skin against her back through her shirt or dress. That he would embrace her and press a sleepy kiss to her shoulder, then rest his face in her neck with a husky, mumbled morning greeting.

When she saw that in the mirror for the first time, seeing the good and warmth and love reflected back at her...

This has been a long time coming and the equal amounts of anxiety and anticipation rolled through her. It hummed in the center of her chest, the feeling tightening as she watched the notary look over the documents.

Part of her couldn’t believe this was happening, it was entirely too surreal. How did she accomplish this victory? What sacrifices she had made, laying all of her chips on the table and moving the right chess pieces.

By the Twelve, her hand shook as she lifted the quill and signed her name to complete the merger. 

Lady Nanoni Noni nodded her head, the Lalafell smiling as she looked to her protégé. “It is done,” the older woman intoned.

Rosette set the quill down as the notary affixed his seal to the document, officially dissolving her family’s holdings and acquiring them under her own name.

Only a handful of people knew that Rosette really enjoyed fishing. It was something that she was able to sit and relax, it forced her to be still and take the time to just...be.

On one of her small vacations from Aetherwatch, she was on a chartered fishing boat out in the Rhotano with a small group of people. Or...she was planning on it, anyways. Her linkpearl dinged in her ear, completely distracting her as someone chatted about some sort of task that the Redressers needed to complete.

She went to step onto the boat -- and her foot completely missed the gangplank, causing her to plummet into the water between the dock and the boat itself. She yelped, splashing into the water and then coughed as she surfaced. Seaweed clung in her hair and her gear floated around her.