Heyyy, what's going on? I busted out a thing in a couple minutes after lots of homework. I don't do the romance thing much, but meh. I suppose since it's a romance, I can call this thing a drabble 'cause it's short, but I still like my term stubfic. So, here's a stubfic about something we all know and don't love: denial!

She was angry. She, who required a crisis of apocalyptic proportions to get her to lose her cool, was ridiculously and irrevocably frustrated with everything. And it was all because of him. Oh, how he angered her for what he had done to her.

She could clearly remember her arrival, and how incredibly overwhelmed she was to see her hero living in her same establishment, fighting battles with her. She would abashedly admit that, at first, the very act of speaking with him had gotten her very flustered indeed, embarrassing her further for losing her head in spite of herself. However, it did, as many things do, pass with time, and she continued to behave like normal around him once again. But somehow, even the Hero King himself had nothing on his effect.

It made no sense. He was just a boy, of no greater importance than any other. He was not part of any of her legends. He hadn't even been a part of her life until quite recently. Now she seemed to be harking back to her original state of foolishness, not in response to the Hero King, but in response to him.

What kind of sorcery was this? Was this some strange option provided by that goddesses forsaken weapon of his? Could it be so, just as it made him run faster and hit harder, that it caused her mind to become fuzzy, her words to be muddled, her composure to become loathsomely and woefully flimsy? It shamed her, it disgusted her. What kind of trick was he trying to pull, he and his ridiculous sword? He, always with a smile, thought she, who was fooled by no one, could be so easily hoodwinked. She most certainly thought not. She didn't want him to achieve whatever upper hand he seemed to be conniving for. She would never let anybody get the better of her like this.

But it wasn't fair. She didn't understand how when he stood close it turned all her pride, all her everything, into mush. His damned eyes and horribly entrancing smile made her feel like a fake. It was as if her composure was being labelled a façade, just like his smiles and enigmatic speech she tried to make herself certain were some kind of trick.

It was angering. She, being so totally bamboozled by someone like him.

It was awful. It is not meant to be appealing in any way.

Which of his arts was this?

Yeah, that's a thing. As Lucina might say, what's a "chill"? Tell me if you loved it, tell me if it sucked! Your face is beautiful! Bye now!