#pluto.asks

"It wasn't me!" lied Larry, the youngest, trying to hide the sticky brush. The giant skeleton sighed and stood up, his bones creaking like an old cupboard. "I'll clean it up," he said resignedly.

Witch finally turned around, holding the wooden spoon like a weapon. "Not this time," she warned. "They need to learn. Larry! Come here now." The little skeleton looked to his father for help, but the giant merely raised his hands in helplessness. "You're on your own, son."

That's when someone knocked on the door with three quick, mechanical taps – the unmistakable signature of Mini Pekka. Harry, the second oldest, crawled to the entrance. "It's for you, Larry," he announced with a mischievous grin.

Meanwhile, Larry desperately tried to scrub Mary's back with a paintbrush, and she screamed, "Mom! He's using me as a towel!" Witch closed her eyes, counting to ten in ancient languages.

Mini Pekka entered uninvited, his metal helmet banging against the door frame. "Larry, come on! The others are already on the battlefield!" He didn't realize that he had stepped in the puddle of coffee with his iron shoe, leaving coffee stains wherever he went. Witch let out a guttural grunt, and even the bones of the Skeleton Giant trembled.

With a smooth movement, the Giant Skeleton grabbed Larry by the collar and lifted him into the air like a disobedient kitten. "Look here, son," he said, rocking the little skeleton back and forth, "do you really want to stay here causing trouble… or go to the arena with your friends?" His empty eyes gleamed paternally as Larry struggled, trying to reach the ground.

Witch opened her mouth to protest, but the Giant Skeleton was already in action. He threw Larry toward the Mini Pekka, who caught him in mid-air with a surprised "Oof!".

"When you get back you're going to clean that up!!" Witch shouted, but her voice had already lost its fury. She rubbed her forehead, where a vein pulsed, as she watched the two run off, Larry shouting "Thanks, Dad!" out the windows.

The Giant Skeleton turned to his wife, his bones creaking in an almost musical sound. "Honey…" he began, gently taking the wooden spoon from her hands. "How about some tea while I clean up the mess in the bathroom?" Witch looked at him for a moment, then collapsed into a tired laugh, letting herself fall into a chair. "You're a lost cause," she murmured, but her smile betrayed the affection.

In the kitchen, Barry and Cherry exchanged glances and set to work in silence. Barry picked up a damp cloth and began cleaning up the flour Witch had thrown on the floor in her fit of rage, while Cherry picked up the bowl and finished mixing the cake batter with careful movements.

"We should have stopped Larry," whispered Cherry, licking some batter from her finger. Barry shrugged. "But it was funny," he admitted, before receiving a pat on the back of the neck from his mother, who was passing by.

The Giant Skeleton returned from the bathroom with a bucket and a sponge, and began humming an old tune while cleaning up the coffee stains.

"You're doing a great job," he praised, glancing at his daughters with a blank blink. Witch sighed and picked up a cup of tea that someone—probably the Giant himself—had prepared for her. The scent of cinnamon filled the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of the cake now baking in the oven.

The cake emerged from the oven with an aroma of vanilla and butter that made even the Skeleton Giant's bones tremble with anticipation. Witch cut generous slices for each of them, while the other siblings crowded around the table, jostling to see who would get the biggest portion. "Watch your fingers," she warned, but without her former fury, only with a maternal weariness that everyone recognized well.

Outside, the distant sound of Larry and Mini Pekka engaging in some mischief in the arena echoed, but inside, a peaceful silence prevailed.

"Next time," Witch finally said, taking a sip of tea, "you lock your brother in the closet before he comes up with another one." Barry and Cherry laughed, and even the Skeleton Giant let out a sound that could be considered a laugh, as the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains painted the domestic scene in golden hues.

Witch sighed, but her body relaxed against her husband's bones. "Someone has to keep this house in order," she protested, but without conviction, while the children laughed around the table cause of a stupid joke Barry made, flour still clinging to some skeletal faces. The Skeleton Giant merely shook his head, his empty eyes blinking a little in the twilight. "And we do," he agreed, "but we also keep the fun going – otherwise, what's the point of having such a noisy family?" Witch didn't answer, but her smile, hidden in the safety of her rib cage, was answer enough.

While the children enjoyed the cake, the Skeleton Giant approached Witch from behind, his bones creaking softly. "My tired little witch," he murmured, enveloping her in his skeletal arms and carefully pulling her into his ribcage, where she usually rested before he sat down on the couch again. Witch resisted for a second, but soon yielded, letting herself sink into the cozy space between his ribs.

"You don't have to be so stiff," he whispered, pulling her hood back and gently stroking her disheveled hair with a finger. "Look what this is doing to your hair – so taut it shines less."

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Ice Wizard frowned. “And what else would I do?” He brushed imaginary dust from his blue-tinged clothes, as he always did when he was nervous. Golden Knight entered without ceremony, walking past him as if the house were his own. The scent of the golden metal of his armor mingled with the cold air of the room, creating a strange combination that Ice Wizard couldn’t decide whether he hated or loved.

“Something useful,” Golden Knight replied,  playing with his blond hair and letting it fall over his shoulders. “Something people will like.” He was looking at the shelves filled with shiny vials, each containing different types of magical ice. Ice Wizard followed his gaze, trying to figure out what he wanted.

That was when Golden Knight picked up one of the smaller vials, shaking it curiously. “This here… looks delicious.” Ice Wizard nearly fell backward. “Delicious? That’s pure ice with new moon essence, isn’t it—” But before he could finish, Golden Knight had already opened the vial and licked the contents. His eyes lit up as if he’d discovered a treasure.

"You’re kidding me," Ice Wizard muttered, but Golden Knight just laughed, tossing the empty vial back onto the shelf. "No, I’m completely serious. You could sell this. Call it... I don’t know, ice cream?" The word sounded strange coming from him, but Ice Wizard couldn’t help but smile slightly. The idea was ridiculous. Absurd. And, somehow, irresistible.

The ice cream became an obsession. Ice Wizard would never have imagined that his icy magic, once meant only for battlefields, could create something that made Golden Knight’s eyes sparkle like that. It was almost annoying how the knight showed up every afternoon, knocking on the door with that carefree laugh and a “anything new today?” slipping out from between his white teeth. Ice Wizard pretended to be annoyed, but he already had an entire shelf reserved for the jars Golden Knight liked best.

The first week was the worst. Or the best—it depended on your point of view. Ice Wizard spent sleepless nights tweaking formulas, testing textures, adding touches of lunar magic here and there just to see Golden Knight’s reaction. When the knight tasted the first batch with raspberry essence, his moan was so indecent that Ice Wizard almost froze him on the spot. “This is… perfect,” Golden Knight murmured, licking his lips in a way that made Ice Wizard look at the floor, suddenly interested in his boots.

The business grew unintentionally. First came the other champions of the kingdom, hearing about that “icy delight” and showing up at the cabin with coins in hand. Then came the villagers, then merchants from distant kingdoms. Ice Wizard never wanted to be a pastry chef, but there was something about it—the way people smiled when they tasted his ice cream, the way Golden Knight stood by his side, tasting every new flavor before anyone else—that made his chest ache in a strange way.

Golden Knight, of course, never paid. “It’s my right as the official first taster,” he’d say, scooping another spoonful from the pot of vanilla with mint stars that Ice Wizard had just made. Ice Wizard would roll his eyes, but he never stopped him. Especially because, secretly, he liked those moments. He liked the way Golden Knight tilted his head when the flavor was especially good; he liked the silly comments about how “this would melt even the Golem’s heart.”

One afternoon, while Ice Wizard was stirring a new batch with magic sugar crystals, Golden Knight arrived earlier than usual. His hair was wet, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and his armor was a little looser than normal. He leaned against the counter, watching in silence for a while. “You never admitted that you decided to do this because I told you to,” he remarked, grabbing an uninvited spoon and dipping it into the pot. Ice Wizard almost protested—that batch wasn’t ready yet—but something in Golden Knight’s expression made him hesitate.

Ice Wizard held the spoon in the air, frozen mid-motion. Golden Knight’s smile was unbearably smug, as if he’d uncovered a secret that not even Ice Wizard admitted to himself. “I was just bored,” he lied, turning his face away to hide the blush rising to his pale cheeks. “And you talk too much.”

Golden Knight laughed, a sound that echoed through the cabin like golden bells. “Sure, sure.” He licked the spoon slowly, deliberately, and Ice Wizard felt a chill that had nothing to do with his powers. “It’s just that I noticed you started adding cinnamon after I mentioned I liked it. And that batch of strawberry with rose petals? Right on my birthday.”

“Coincidence,” Ice Wizard muttered, but his voice came out weaker than he intended. He tried to focus on the ice cream bowl, but Golden Knight was too close now, the heat of his body contrasting with the icy air of the kitchen. His fingers, without the gloves of his armor, were too close to his own as he took another spoonful.

"You know," Golden Knight murmured, leaning forward until his blond hair almost touched Ice Wizard’s silver hair, "I never told you what else I like about this ice cream."

Ice Wizard swallowed hard. “What?” The word came out as a hoarse whisper.

Golden Knight’s smile widened, the corners of his lips curving upward as if he knew exactly the effect his words had. “The fact,” he began, scooping another spoonful from the tub between them, “that you make each one with me in mind.” The spoon glinted in the dim light of the cabin as he brought it to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Ice Wizard’s. “Even when you pretend you don’t.”

Ice Wizard felt the heat rise up his neck, so intense he almost expected to see steam rising from his own skin. “That’s—” He tried to protest, but the words died on his lips as Golden Knight licked his lips, leaving a shiny streak of ice cream at the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Ice Wizard reached out, his thumb almost touching the knight’s face before hesitating in midair. “You… have a bit of—”

Golden Knight seized his wrist before he could pull back, guiding Ice Wizard’s hand to his own face. His skin was warm against the wizard’s icy fingers, a contrast so jarring it almost hurt. “Show me,” he murmured, and there was something in the tone of his voice that made Ice Wizard forget how to breathe.

The touch was gentler than he intended, just his thumb brushing the corner of the Golden Knight’s lips, wiping away the ice cream with a motion that felt too intimate for something so simple. Ice Wizard could feel the heat of the knight’s breath against his fingers; he could see how his eyes darkened as he watched every tiny movement.

“You’re trembling,” Golden Knight observed, his voice low as if sharing a secret. Ice Wizard hadn’t noticed, but now he felt the small tremors in his own hands, so strange for someone who controlled ice with such precision. “It’s not from the cold,” Golden Knight continued, his fingers gently closing around Ice Wizard’s wrist as if it were something precious.

Ice Wizard tried to pull back, but his feet seemed rooted to the cabin’s icy floor. “It’s just… a side effect of the magic,” he lied, feeling his pulse quicken beneath Golden Knight’s fingers. The knight didn’t seem convinced, his smile taking on a softer, almost tender edge. “Magic, is it?” He pulled Ice Wizard a little closer, until the space between them was just a breath of cold air. “Then explain to me why it only happens when I’m here.”

Ice Wizard’s heart leapt against his ribs, a movement so violent he feared Golden Knight might feel it. His fingers were still pressed against the knight’s face, the tip of his thumb now resting lightly on his lower lip. It was minimal contact, but it seemed to burn more than any fire spell he’d ever faced. “You—” his voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to regain control. “You’re exaggerating.”

Golden Knight laughed, a low, warm sound that made Ice Wizard clench his teeth. “I never exaggerate,” he murmured, tilting his head until his blond strands brushed against the Ice Wizard’s silver forehead. “But you… you avoid it.” His breath was sweet, still carrying the taste of vanilla ice cream, and the Ice Wizard felt inexplicably drawn to that sweetness.

For a mad moment, he imagined what it would be like to close the distance, to taste the ice cream on Golden Knight’s lips instead of on a spoon. The idea was so shocking that he let out a small sigh, his eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. Golden Knight noticed—of course he noticed—and his smile deepened. “Ah,” he said, as if he’d discovered something monumental. “That’s why you never look me in the eye when I taste your ice cream.”

Ice Wizard felt the heat rise to his ears, so intense that he feared his silver hair might begin to melt. “You’re making things up,” he protested, but his voice came out weak, lacking conviction. Golden Knight released his wrist only to run his fingers through his, intertwining them with a naturalness that left Ice Wizard breathless. “Making things up isn’t my style,” he replied, his thumb gently rubbing the coldest part of Ice Wizard’s hand. “But I admit I’m… curious.”

Golden Knight’s curiosity was like a flame that Ice Wizard didn’t know how to extinguish. He could freeze entire rivers, but those golden eyes burned through his defenses as if they were made of something stronger than magic. When the knight’s fingers squeezed his with that unbearable confidence, Ice Wizard felt the ice in his veins begin to crack.

“What kind of curiosity?” he asked, and his voice sounded strangely hoarse, as if he’d swallowed snow. Golden Knight smiled, that slow smile that always left Ice Wizard with the feeling he was about to lose some game he didn’t even know he was playing. “You know very well,” he murmured, leaning forward until their noses almost touched. Golden Knight’s breath was sweet, warm, and Ice Wizard closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could hide from that closeness.

And then—

It was like being struck by a spell he hadn’t been able to foresee. Golden Knight’s lips met his with a gentleness that contradicted all the knight’s usual arrogance. It was hot, it was sweet, it was everything Ice Wizard had feared and secretly desired. His icy fingers clenched around Golden Knight’s, not to push him away, but because the world seemed to have turned upside down, and those hands were the only thing that felt real.

The kiss tasted of vanilla and something deeper, something Ice Wizard had no name to describe. He was about to surrender completely, about to forget that anything existed beyond those lips and that warm hand intertwined with his, when—

The cabin door burst open with a crash, nearly torn from its hinges by the impact. Ice Wizard and Golden Knight pulled apart abruptly, their lips still tinged with the taste of the other. Standing in the doorway, the imposing figure of Berserker blocked out the sunlight, his double-bladed axe slung across his back and his red hair billowing like flames in the wind.

“By Odin, what is that smell of cheap romance?” she roared, striding in with heavy footsteps that made the floor shake. Her iron-brown eyes darted from Golden Knight—his fingers still intertwined with Ice Wizard’s—to the ice cream tubs slowly melting on the counter. “I came for the ice cream, not to interrupt… whatever this is.” Her upturned nose wrinkled in disdain, but there was a barely concealed curiosity in the corners of her eyes.

Ice Wizard released Golden Knight’s hands as if they were made of lava, wiping his own on his blue tunic with a movement too quick to be casual. “We weren’t—” he began, but Berserker cut off his protest with a grunt.