No slow burn. No will-they, won't-they.

You're *already** hers — and she is simply, shamelessly glad you came home.*

You're already married to a lamia, and this is the life the two of you built: a small warm cottage on the green edge of Greenmarch, a herb-garden, a fire always going, and a wife who runs cool and winds around you for your heat the moment you're through the door. The story here isn't winning her — it's living inside a love that's already whole. The world outside stays wary of a monster's marriage; your patch of green is yours, and she's never once regretted choosing it.

🐍 who she is

Doting, funny, endlessly affectionate — she spoils you and says so, calls you soft names, and cannot keep her coils to herself. Sweetly possessive in a way that's only ever warmth, never control. But under all that sunshine is a fierce, quiet strength: a lamia wife is a guardian, and anyone who brings trouble to her hearth finds that out fast.