Despite her lineage, Cynthia never thought herself the meek princess in need of a hero. She'd become the hero instead, refusing to play damsel for her cousin and following in her mother's footsteps as a proud and capable pegasus knight. Maybe a little too proud at times, charging into battle headfirst without much thought or caution atop her flying horse, spear at the ready and focused on victory. Reckless and impulsive, perhaps driven by tragedy a little more than she would admit to throw herself into the fire if it meant saving the people she cared about so that she didn't lose them again.
At least, until Robin's ring had found its way around her finger. Suddenly, she had someone for whom she was much better alive for, a shrewd mage whose tactical acumen ensured the best use of her abilities without having to charge in sacrifice toward the enemy. He brought warmth and focus to her mind, someone to fight for who certainly had died in her dark future, but who she only now truly knew, and she decided that she liked her place by his side as his princess and as his shining knight enough to play it a little safer in the heat of combat.
Robin found life in his fiance as well. Cynthia was energetic and happy and so genuine about wanting to do good and be a hero, a shining beacon of optimism that Robin sorely needed. She was his anchor to joy as the war drew on, emotional exhaustion from the long-winding campaign setting in for the beleaguered tactician but the softness of Cynthia beside him every night reinvigorating him. Her warm embrace and the whispered, soft words of affection that he drifted off to after a long day served as a reminder that when it was he would have someone to settle down with, and there was no greater motivation in the world.
Come the night's end, no amount of exhaustion could keep weigh his hands down hard enough to keep them from finding her hips as the princess's own hands grasped his shoulders. The very feeling of her naked form against his soothed all the soreness in his body, followed soon after by her lips against his, the taste of her breathing new joy into his spirit. Energy and awareness surged as he met her kiss in return, Robin rolling until Cynthia was on her back, her lover atop her, renewed.
His fingertips drifted up along her body as his lips pulled away and began to descend. Her head rolled back as his hands found her wrists, pressing them gently but firmly against the mattress as he eased his way into her. Her jaw quivered a little as his lips found her collarbone and began to suck eagerly on her flesh. It would be in very poor taste to leave his best friend's daughter walking around with visible hickeys, but below where her collar would cover, he considered fair game, and as her velvet walls clenched tight around him he was driven to indulge as much as he could.
The thrusts began, steady and admittedly less patient than he would have liked; Cynthia was already squirming eagerly beneath him, her boundless energy almost infectious, and it didn't take long for him to have a solid pace built up. The grip on her wrists loosened, but she kept her hands there, beneath his touch as she rocked up off the bed to meet his thrusts, fully aware that his resurgence in energy was fueled by her affection, and wanting to feel the fruits of her work for a moment, not quite lazy but certainly on the receiving end.
Her fingers had started to curl into balled fists, tightening as she felt him deep within her at the peak of every hilted thrust, but they were soon eased gently open by his own fingers, drifting up and threading through hers before tightening, holding firmly onto his lover. She closed her grip again as well, her smile interrupted a by long, drawn-out moan, shoulders lifting off the bed as the tactician sucked more eagerly at her collarbone in response, his pace continuing steadily without missing a beat.
At least, until she'd had her fill of enjoying his newfound energy. Focus didn't come easiest to Cynthia, and soon the thrusts and the hickeys and the low moans against her neck drove her past the point of being able to contain it. Uncaged and impatient, she rolled them over, Robin not at all surprised to find himself on his back as the princess sat in his lap, never once loosening her tight grip on his hands as they pressed into the bed. The pace she dictated was quicker than Robin's, an eager, rapid bouncing atop her lover's lap, her brown eyes locked on his. Her smile was even wider, able to warm over the harshest winter night with its radiance, and the weary tactician found his own lips curling as well; nothing could make him happier than seeing her smile. That was how he knew for certain that he was in love.
Cynthia leaned down, pressing her lips into Robin's and moaning needily. She wasn't particularly steady in her pace, quick but sloppy, and subject to every little whim and sensation that ran through her, refusing to let a single rush of sensation by. They simply couldn't be ignored. And for Robin, it was actually better that way; nothing methodical or careful about her, someone carefree and willing to get tossed to the wind. Someone whose hungry, desperate kiss was greatly enhanced by its messiness, a sign that she was enraptured and surrendering to the pleasure. The fact she wasn't so stuffy was part of what made her such an important balancing factor in his life.
She came first, shuddering and gasping, fitfully moving in his lap as the kiss merely became her parted lips against his spilling moans and half-words into his mouth. He was soon behind though, driven by the rapid clenching and wet, silken tightness around him, emptying himself in her with a shudder and the sudden tightening of his entire body. Their grips both intensified on pure reflex for a brief moment before Cynthia's hold gave and Robin's soon followed, and suddenly their words and cries were replaced with heavy breaths as Cynthia nestled her head into Robin's shoulder.
The burst of energy had faded from Robin's body, though the aches remained at bay. In its place was the warm security of love, an afterglow that meant more to either of them than just the indulgence of carnal needs. Breathless, warm, and secure, they were at no point more engrossed with each other than immediately after release, ready to sleep in that very position if it came down to it. Outside of their room was trouble and fear and a war that left their fates in the balance, but in the safety of their embrace, it was impossible not to have hope.