Chapter Text
“Prepare to have your socks knocked off!”
Bog raised his eyebrows and looked down at his feet to find them, as was typical, bare. “Goodness me, they’ve gone. Well done.”
Marianne rolled her eyes, swaying her body in the air to match the motion. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know what a sock was until like five minutes ago. Or that you don’t secretly wear the ones Dawn gave you, with the yellow bobbles on them.”
“Granted, it was an informative cultural exchange this winter, but don’t pretend that you didn’t try and make me a pair yourself and it ended in disaster.”
“I resent that. They made a very nice scarf when all’s said and done.”
Bog had been sitting on a tree root at the border between forest and fields, his back to the relentless primroses blossoming there. He had made an appointment to meet Marianne there but had come hours early to patrol the area, ensuring there were no lizards, birds, or other interesting creatures to interrupt their time together. Nothing to do with nerves. At all.
Really, it was the second Valentine’s Day since he met Marianne, it shouldn’t feel so awkward and unnatural to wait for her with gift in hand, but there he was with his heart in his throat.
Marianne gave Bog’s shoulder an affectionate kick before folding her wings and dropping down next to him on the root. She was holding a box that took up most of her lap. Bog glanced quickly at the small petal packet he had brought and felt his stomach twist. Maybe he’d made a bad choice. It was too small, too insignificant, too--too--too sweet.
He forgot to be nervous for a few minutes because Marianne followed up her kick with a kiss. That nearly always sent his worries scattering. Especially since he had to focus on catching her lips as she drew back and returning her kiss. Then Marianne grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for further, longer kissing. This enjoyable exchange might have gone on indefinitely if Marianne hadn’t almost knocked the box off her lap and had to scramble to catch it.
“Safe!” She said breathlessly, holding the box aloft after almost dropping it several times.
Bog clapped.
“Shut up! Take your stupid gift!” Marianne gently shoved it into his hands. there were hearts stamped on the wrapping. He gave Marianne a skeptical look. “Shut up! I did not design the box, I am not responsible for the box. Now gimme my gift.”
She held out her hand with casual fearlessness, unbothered. Except her cheeks were bright red.
“It isn’t much--” Bog stopped himself from slipping into cringing humility. He could practically hear Dawn scolding him to be more confident. He slipped the little packet into Marianne’s hand. “I hope you like it.”
“Back at you.”
The two of them stared at their unopened presents.
“You first,” they said in unison, then giggling at themselves.
“I’ll go first.” Marianne declared, “so my gift doesn’t outshine yours.”
“Oh, so kind, my love.”
“I know, right?” Marianne tore a ragged hole in the packet and fished around inside for the gift. She slowly pulled out a silver chain hooked on her finger. So slowly it was cruel, Bog thought. At last the chain ended and swung free, displaying the pendant threaded on it.
It was a small silver outline of a heart made of crooked twists and curls with pointed ends. It was supposed to look like branches and thorns, three grasping little branches holding tiny gems: ruby, amethyst, and amber. Marianne’s colors. Bog knew Marianne wouldn’t notice, but if she did he wondered if she would mind the implication of the forest holding her--of her being caught in his hands. It was horribly sentimental.
“It’s so crooked!” Marianne gasped.
Bog quietly started to panic.
“I love it! It’s gorgeous!”
Bog relaxed so deeply he thought his armor went soft. “I, uh,” Bog rubbed the back of his neck, “I worked with the smith to, soft of, well, to design it. A bit.”
“Bog,” Marianne put her hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the eyes. “My socks are knocked clean off, please help me put this on.”
“It’s amazing how your boots stayed on.” Bog carefully clasped the chain around her neck, taking the opportunity to place a kiss on the nape of her neck. She swatted at him.
“It’s like a little piece of the forest.” Marianne said, holding the pendant out to admire.
Bog shuffled his feet.
“I can’t believe you, my mighty Bog King. You’ve made me voluntarily wear a piece of heart-shaped jewelry.”
“It was a heinous plot.”
“Well plotted. Now please, please open my gift. Carefully.”
“I’ll watch my socks.”
“I hate you.” Marianne pulled up her legs to crouch on the root, fingers twisting the pendant and chain nervously.
Bog found a seam in the box’s wrapping and carefully slit it open with a claw. neatly removing the paper to expose a white box of stiff paper. The lid folded back and inside was . . . Bog sniffed it’s scent . . . “Strawberry?”
Marianne nodded, eyes unblinking as she stared at his face, waiting for his verdict.
“I love--it’s my favorite--how did you know? It’s not even in season! Is this a pastry?”
“Strawberry shortcake,” Marianne grinned. “I interrogated Griselda last year about what you like. She said until I came into your life your greatest passion was strawberries.”
“Where in all the fields and forest did you find strawberries this time of year?”
“In the greenhouse. With much careful tending. Then a lot of careful tutoring from the chef as he supervised me. Ha! You love it! I got you, Bog, I win!”
“I don’t really see how I lose, though. Wait, you grew them, you made this? It’s not even squashed. It looks edible!”
“Give it bad, you jerk!”
“No way, I am eating all of this all by myself.” Bog thought of all the time and planning put into the sweet gift and was baffled by the effort. Marianne had worked so hard for him.
It made him feel incredibly loved.
It knocked his socks clean off.
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So, it’s September. But have a Valentine story anyhow.
shout out to @deluxetrashqueen for the idea that the Dark Forest did not have a concept of socks and after they were introduced they became a huge craze
@elf-kid2 for tagging me in the picture I used as a reference for Marianne’s pendant (
https://www.tumblr.com/elf-kid2/694921604486086656/abutterflyobsession