Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spring came to the Fairy Kingdom. Flowers bloomed, days grew longer, and anyone that valued their life stayed far from the eastern border. Empty rooms in the palace crowded and filled, as they had in previous springs, with eastern-dwelling subjects afraid of being seized by an overzealous collection crew. Father, busy presenting a show of control to his subjects, and the palace guards, engaged with the influx, had no time for a certain mischievous princess bent on chaos. Luckily, I was free. Anyone who valued their life could be trusted to stay away from the east, but valuing one’s life was a sensible thing to do, and so Dawn, my sister, would doubtless refuse on principle.

She was with Sunny, a scrappy little elf that she’d been friends with for the last few years. They were remarkably well matched: despite being only half her height, he somehow got into twice as much trouble.

I watched carefully as they made their daring escape from the main hall of the palace. Sunny took cover in stone nooks and alcoves. He was tense, watchful, shoulders tight and fists clenched. He was completely invisible to any passing guards, not that they were really looking for him.

Of course, if he was caught, he’d be trapped by his own cover.

Dawn, ever-oblivious, strolled down the corridor, posture open and relaxed, smiling at passing guards and citizens.

Upon reaching the front entryway the pair paused dramatically at the edge of the door, waited until the guards were distracted helping a luggage-laden elf, and bolted through, whooping and yelling at their victory.

The guards did not pursue them.

I walked out after them. I nodded to the guards as I passed, careful not to lose sight of my sister. They didn’t stop me either, but that had never been in question.

Our home, the royal palace, was carved into a boulder in the center of the largest meadow in the kingdom. The only entrance was halfway up its massive face. For most elves, short and wingless as they were, that meant an arduous trek down countless stairways. For Sunny, it meant a leap into open air. Dawn caught him, lowered him to the ground, and they ran.

Sunny had to run hard to keep up with Dawn, who flew low and fast beneath tall flowers. They were trying not to be seen from above. Now that they had escaped the palace and its watch, there was only one reason they would try to be stealthy.

They knew I would be watching. They were trying to evade my notice. Luckily for me, consistent practice hadn’t helped them at all. They terrible at being stealthy.

Dawn’s large pink wings pushed against the stem of every flower she flew past, leaving an eminently noticeable trail. Sunny, despite his remarkable ability to keep up with a fairy flying full tilt, loudly gasped for air and occasionally shouted for Dawn to wait up.

I beat my wings hard and pushed myself up into the air. I would be easy to spot from here.

“Dawn!” I yelled, looking anywhere but the obvious trail of jostling flowers. “Dawn, where are you?”

The motion below stilled for a moment, then sped up - beelining for the stream. Sunny yelled again, voice cracking.

I pretended not to see them. Or hear them. I drifted here and there, still shouting Dawn’s name, but stayed high enough that I could see where they went.

Dawn paused when she reached the stream. I watched through my peripherals as she picked up Sunny, zipped across the water, and back under the cover of the plants on the other side.

I called out her name once more for good measure, then placed one hand on the hilt of my sword to keep it steady, tucked my wings, and dived. From their perspective, with their cover blocking their line of sight, it would look as though I’d returned to the palace.

My hair whipped around my ears and the tips of my wings flapped against my ankles. When I was close enough to the ground that they couldn’t see me, I flared my wings back out. They caught the air with a phwoompf and a flash of purple. I launched myself forward with the momentum of my aborted dive, crossed the stream, and planted both feet on the other side, wings tucked and ears open.

The rustling of Dawn’s wings continued at the same steady pace. She hadn’t heard me.

I untucked my wings and followed carefully, making sure not to bump any plants myself. Dawn’s rustling stopped, and I hovered, frozen. A moment later, she resumed, and I followed suit.

“Hey wait!” yelled Sunny. “Wait, pick me back up!”

“I can’t carry you the whole way, silly-billy!” came Dawn’s chirping tones. “I’ll get tired!”

Now confident that I wasn’t following them, they slowed down and became much more open about their movements. Sunny was still difficult to spot on the ground, but Dawn flitted over and around flowers twice her height.

“Where are we going?” asked Sunny.

“It’s a secret spot ~” sang Dawn. “I found this place with lots of rocks that nobody ever goes.”

“S-so… so we’d be alone? ” asked Sunny.

I bit back a wince. Sunny was as obvious about his crush on Dawn as Dawn was about everything else. Unfortunately, he was unwilling to do anything more risky than dropping useless hints. Dawn was as perceptive as a daisy, so that was going nowhere.

Part of me wanted to root for him. An underdog elf falling in love with a fairy princess? Perfect storybook romance. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t prejudice. Father disapproved of relationships between fairies and elves, but I liked to keep an open mind. I didn’t even dislike Sunny, in as many words. Sure, he was awkward and bumbling, but around Dawn, what guy wasn’t? He was nice, and clever, and remarkably attentive.

No, the problem was Dawn. Or, at least, her position.

Dawn liked to act like she never had a thought in her head, but she knew the rules of the game and could play it sleepwalking. She knew what expectations people had, and bent and juggled those expectations to suit her own ends. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, flash her perfect smile, and people would thank her for her generosity as they emptied their pockets. Half the time she didn’t even know she was doing it.

Sometimes I thought it was a shame that she was the younger sister. She was charismatic and popular with our subjects, unlike the current heir. And she might grow into the responsibility of that position, while I could never develop her easy grip on authority.

Sunny, who fled at the first hint of confrontation and could list every exit in a room with his eyes closed, would never be comfortable giving orders to eager subjects. Like me, he would never be suited for that life.

It would be different if Dawn returned his feelings but, as Sunny’s constant, desperate hints made obvious, she didn’t.

“Of course we’ll be alone!” said Dawn. “We couldn’t plan if there was someone around to eavesdrop .”

“Oh. Right. Of course. Plan. ”

I held in another groan and moved to find cover.

Dawn and Sunny moved due east. I tailed them for over an hour, quietly shifting from rocks to bushes. If it was anyone else, I would feel concern, mounting tension. But this was Dawn, so all I felt was exasperation for whatever nonsense she had yet fling herself into. Finally, they pushed into a clearing.

“We’re here!” squealed Dawn. She jumped in the air and flew a loop-de-loop as Sunny pushed after her. I hid behind the trunk of a nearby oak tree, and flew up into the branches to watch from above.

It was mostly rocks. The bits that weren’t rocks were dirt. It was not enticing by any stretch of the imagination, but Dawn was delighted.

“What are we doing here?” asked Sunny.

“We’re planning ,” said Dawn. “Nobody ever comes here at this time of year, so nobody can report us to Marianne McFussybritches. ” She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air, then mimed unsheathing a sword and swinging it. “ Myeh, myeh, myeh. You’re not allowed to do anything , Dawn. You’re in danger , Dawn. You need to try harder not to die, Dawn. I’m Marianne and I don’t know how to have fun . Blah, blah, blah. ”

I ignored her impression, and Sunny’s laughter, and looked around. It was no wonder that nobody would come here. The complete absence of anything interesting was one thing, but if I squinted I could just make out a wall of primroses a few dozen yards further on.

Dawn had gone to the border while the primroses were in full bloom. To plan. I couldn’t take any criticism of hers seriously, even if her pantomime sword fight was entertaining. She was the type who’d try to nap in a spiderweb, and like it or not, I had to look after her.

“Did you bring the notes?” asked Dawn. She finished her act and landed next to Sunny. He pulled out a few sheets of loose leaf from his backpack and spread them out on the ground, using pebbles to hold them down. The two knelt over them, pointing and commenting on different sections.

I couldn’t see what was written from the branch, but that was fine. Those plans were their business. Their safety was mine. The two stayed put, engrossed in their notes, so I took the opportunity to relax. I laid down with my back against bark and quietly pulled my sword, still sheathed, to rest flat on my chest.  

“All righty! Operation: Marianne’s Spring Ball Extravaganza is underway!”

Oh no.

I shot back up, careful not to drop my sword, and stared down at the plans. Squinting did not transform the squiggles into legible words.

“Are we sure it’ll even work?” asked Sunny. “Marianne might not like it.”

“She’ll like it!” insisted Dawn.

“She didn’t like any of the guys we’ve tried so far.”

“Well, of course she didn’t! They weren’t good enough for her . ”

“Then why did we even-”

“That’s not important.” Dawn dismissed Sunny’s concern with a wave of the hand. “Look, she’s my sister, right? So believe me when I say that she hasn’t been happy since Roland.”

I winced at the casual mention.

“She only gets into our business because she’s lonely.” Dawn shoved three fingers dramatically into Sunny’s face. “Marianne gets back in a relationship-” She lowered a finger. “She’s happy and starts acting like herself again-” She lowered another finger. “And she stops hanging over our shoulders.” She closed her fist, then threw her arm over Sunny’s shoulders. “Then we can get back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans.”

“What do we do if she throws her drink in his face?”

“She’s not going to do that.”

“She did it to Cirrus. She did worse to Thorn.”

“She’s noootttttttt going to do that. Thorn had her shoved in a corner. He deserved that bloody nose.”

Sunny grimaced. “Okay. And…?” he gestured to the paper.

“ He’s gonna be standing in the center of the room, by the fountain, which, as I’m sure you’re fully aware, is nowhere near the impact range of a thrown drink. No, the real trick will be keeping Marianne from just walking out.”

I groaned, confident that they wouldn’t hear me. Dawn was always introducing me to new guys. Unfortunately, she thought that I had the same criteria for romantic partners that she did: ‘male’ and ‘nearby. ’ My actual preference was... nobody.

Romance was a losing game. It was fine for someone like Dawn, who actually was charming, and pretty, and fun, and whatever other traits people liked. For someone like me though, the effort of molding myself into something people could tolerate wasn’t worth the payoff of their company. Solitude was perfectly satisfying, if only someone would leave me to it.

“The most important part!” said Dawn, looking deep into Sunny’s eyes. “Have you got it fixed?”

“Yup!” said Sunny, beaming. “The first dance is arranged for Marianne, but at the start of the second dance, Elwood is going to be standing to the left of the punch bowl-”

“Elwood?” asked Dawn. “No, no, no. You mean Cyprus. ”

“Cyprus?” Sunny looked back over his notes. “But yesterday you said you wanted to dance with Elwood.”

“Who cares about yesterday ?” asked Dawn.

Sunny frantically rearranged papers, muttering to himself.

There was a sound. Stones crunched and clacked together. I drew my sword and looked toward the wall of pink primroses. Sunny and Dawn, still focused on their plot, were far enough away that Dark Forest collection crews should have ignored them. But then, residents of the Dark Forest weren’t known for being picky about administering punishment. The clatter of stones came again - far too close.

Further into the clearing, two slabs of stone leaned against each other. There was an opening underneath them. Small enough that I wouldn’t have noticed, had my attention not been drawn to it. Something burst from the shadow, charging straight at my sister.

A lizard. Mouth open, teeth sharp.

“Dawn! Sunny!” I screamed. They both whipped their heads up, shock plain on their faces. “Lizard! Get up here now!”

Responding with speed that a lifetime of mishaps had trained into her, Dawn grabbed Sunny around the middle and flew toward me as fast as the extra weight would allow. The lizard missed her by a hair, scattering their papers and snapping its jaws up after them.

After a several seconds of struggled flight, Dawn hoisted Sunny onto my branch and lighted down herself. Somehow, despite the mad scramble, her white dress was pristine, and her blonde hair was perfectly framing her face. Her angry, angry face.

“Marianne.” Dawn said. She was trying to be threatening, but I was immune to her brand of impotent fury. “ How did you find us?”

“You’re welcome , Dawn. I’m always happy to help my favorite little sister.”

“I’m your only sister.” She grabbed my arm, the one without the sword, and leaned her face so close I could feel her breath. “ How much did you hear? ”

“I just got here!” I lied. “It was so hard to track you-”

“Guys?” whimpered Sunny.

“I swear, if you were eavesdropping-”

“Why would I want to eavesdrop? Also you’re welcome. You know. For the lizard.”

“ Guys? ” Sunny tugged on Dawn’s sleeve and pointed down.

The lizard was at the base of the tree. It was climbing. Fast.

“It can climb?!” Dawn shrieked. She gripped my arm tighter and shook frantically. “Marianne, it’s climbing!”

This was bad. We weren’t safe in the tree, but there was no way we could outrun a lizard on the ground. If Dawn and I stayed airborne it couldn’t reach us, but Sunny couldn’t fly. And there was no way we could carry Sunny long enough to get away - not if we were going to stay out of reach of those jaws.

“Marianne?” asked Dawn. “What do we do? You have a plan, right? Tell me you have a plan! ”

I stood up and pried Dawn’s fingers off my arm.

“All right, listen up. You two get to a higher branch. If the lizard gets up this high, then fly down to the ground and run. You’ll have time to get away while it climbs back down.”

“We’re just going to sit and wait for it?!” shrieked Dawn. Sunny was already climbing.

“No,” I said. “ You’re gonna sit and wait for it. I’m gonna fight it.” I clutched my sword, tucked my wings, and dived.

“What?” shrieked Dawn, but it was too late to stop me. I could only hope she’d follow instructions.

I plummeted, parallel to the tree’s trunk. Squinting against the wind in my eyes, I kept my eyes on the lizard. It was coming quick. It watched me fall and moved to intercept me, mouth open wide. Perfect.

Just before impact, I flared my wings back out for another phwoompf. The lizard scuttled upward to grab me, but I dodged to the side and dropped past it. It tried awkwardly to turn itself around to face back toward me - away from Dawn and Sunny.

I flapped hard and pushed myself back up, until I was level with its back. Whether it was facing up or down, as long as I was airborne and it was stuck to tree, it had no way to protect itself. The lizard hissed and tried to lean back far enough to swipe at me with one of its forearms. I darted in close and slashed at the base of its tail. It hissed, tried one more swipe, then dropped off the tree. It thudded to the ground and scampered away.

It ran south. Good. We wouldn’t stumble across it again on the way home.

“Dawn! Sunny!” I shouted upward. “It’s gone!”

There was no reply.

I flew up and shouted again. No response.

I saw the problem.

Dawn, panicky and impatient, had grabbed Sunny and flown as far from the tree and as high as she could. Defying logic, as usual, she had decided to fly toward the Dark Forest.

There was no time to scream and shout for their attention. I planted my feet firmly and pushed off after them.

I wasn’t the fastest flyer, but Dawn was carrying an elf. Even so, they were high.

Dawn’s wings started to falter. She wouldn’t be able to stay up for much longer. This wasn’t fast enough. I unbuckled my sheathed sword and let it drop to the earth below, pounding my wings down and hoping that would be enough.

I got closer.

Closer.

I could Sunny’s knuckles clawed into her white dress. I could see the sweat beading on both of their faces. I was so close.

Dawn turned around and saw me. She smiled. Her wings gave one more feeble twitch, and she stopped flapping.

I screamed as she began to tumble. She attempted a few weak flaps, but kept falling. I leveled my wings out and shot down, trying to intercept. We were squarely over the Dark Forest now. Assuming we survived the fall, then broken wings would be the least of our worries.

“Dawn!” I screamed, hoping she’d hear me over the wind rushing in both our ears. “Dawn! Drop Sunny!”

“What?” screamed Sunny. “No! No, don’t drop Sunny! Don’t drop me!”

Dawn looked up at me, exhausted.

“I’ll catch him!” I screamed again. “I promise! Dawn, drop him, please!”

The tips of the tallest trees zipped past us. Before us, leaves and branches crowded, blocking out the ground. Dawn let go. They began to drift apart, and Sunny scrambled in midair trying to grab for her.

Dawn, load lightened, gave one strong flap and managed to throw herself and cling against the tip of a pine tree. Sunny kept falling, screaming, clawing frantically at passing branches. I shot after him.

Sunny crashed into a pine branch and bounced off with a yelp and a thud. The change in trajectory catapulted him into another branch, and another. He had slowed down, but those same branches limited my own movements and I still couldn’t reach him. As we dropped lower, the foliage behind us blocked out sunlight, and I had to strain my eyes to keep track of Sunny. I kept my wings tucked, straining my hand out. If I could just-

There was another thud, louder this time. A yelp of pain, followed by a whimper, followed by silence. I flared my wings out and squinted downwards. That mossy shape… Oh, that was the ground.

Oh.

Oh.

I touched down. The ground here was spongy and giving. I moved forward slowly, arms up for balance.

“Sunny?” I couldn’t make myself speak any louder than a whisper.

Thorns, spikes, and poisons lurked in the dark. Who knew what creatures we might run into. Why had I left my sword behind?

I took another tentative step forward. There was a muffled groan from beneath me. I choked back a yelp and jumped off Sunny’s prone form. He was facedown, short limbs akimbo in a bed of very thick, dark moss. He wasn’t moving. I couldn’t see if he was breathing.

“Sunny? Are you still alive? Please be alive” I poked one of his less distressed-looking limbs.

He didn’t move, but there was a quiet, pained whimper. That was some relief, at least.

“Are you able to get up? We can’t stay here.” He shifted, barely, and I tried to find a non-injured area I could grab.

There was rustle in the trees behind us. I whipped my head around, but saw nothing.

“I’m sorry about this.” I jabbed one arm beneath his legs and another below his shoulders. He groaned at the pain. I gripped tight and flapped as hard as I could, straight upward, trying not to bump into any branches.

Between the fight with the lizard and flying after Dawn, and now with the weight of an adult elf, I didn’t have the energy to fly up. We had cleared only a few branches when the strain overcame me and my wings refused to flap. We thudded back to the mossy earth. I tried my best to twist my body underneath Sunny’s and cushion the fall, but he cried out and the impact and his head slumped.

I jabbed him a few times in the face. He was unconscious.

I was trapped in the Dark Forest with an injured, unconscious elf, no sword, and no way out.

Chapter Text

The situation was dire, but less dire for me than for most. No matter anyone’s opinion, I was royalty. Even if I wasn’t supposed to be in the Dark Forest, I wouldn’t be abducted or harassed without consequence. No scout would attack me - that is, not if I could convince them of the truth. My presence - our presence, Sunny unconscious on my back - may seem suspicious, especially in spring, but if we were caught I’d just have to explain the situation and hope that The Bog King was reasonable.

Royalty. Reasonable. I thought of Dawn, and tried not to think too positively.

I couldn’t see Dawn through the foliage, against the distant glint of sunlight. Hopefully she had regained a bit of strength and moved to a safer position. I could all too easily imagine her doing something stupid like diving in after us; I entertained the idea of staying put until she inevitably did dive in after us. I’d save myself a return trip, after all. It’d be a hassle if I managed to save Sunny then had to return for Dawn.

But I couldn’t risk Sunny’s life on that chance. The odds of Dawn diving headlong into trouble seemed much more likely than the alternative, but Sunny, already blacked out from pain, couldn’t wait. I’d just have to hope that she could get herself out of trouble this time.

I’d shifted Sunny from my arms to my back. I couldn’t move my wings while I carried him, but my wings were useless anyway. At least this way I wouldn’t drop him.

I trudged through the thick moss, slowed by frantic checks around me with every quiet twitch and creak of wood. Moss turned to bark. Bark turned to black earth. I stayed quiet and low to the ground, but I couldn’t silence Sunny’s unknowing hisses of pain.

Tense minutes passed as we moved through the trees. We saw no one. It seemed too much to hope that we could make it out unaccosted, but with each new silent clearing it seemed more possible.

We pushed past a low shrub, and the ground before us dropped down into a small ledge. Not far enough to be a major challenge, but enough that I risked my ankles if I wasn’t cautious. It would have been simple to move Sunny to my arms and float down - even my tired wings could manage a leap that small - but I didn’t want to jostle him. It would be easier to climb down a plant.

I grabbed the stem of a nearby climber for balance, then stepped off the edge onto a sturdy looking leaf. The leaf was bisected, with two segments growing out like an open book. They were mostly red, except their edges, which were green, with pointed fringes.

I placed my foot down on the center-line, and the leaves snapped shut around my leg. I bit back a scream and tried to pull my foot back, but the fringed edges interlocked and trapped me.

I was stuck. I leaned back, trying not to topple over the edge. My other leg was up on the ledge behind me, burning with the effort of maintaining my precarious position. One hand balanced Sunny on my back, and the other white-knuckled the climber stem.

I gripped the stem tighter, heaved myself upward, and kicked hard. The trap plant stayed true, but the climber stem snapped. We toppled forward over the edge, and this time I couldn’t help my scream.

Sunny slipped off my back and hit the ground with a thud. The trap plant, determined to keep my foot, caught me midair. I dangled upside down, thrashing uselessly. With my arms hanging down I could just brush my fingers against the dirt. I couldn’t push or pull for leverage. I kicked against the plant with my free foot, but to no avail.

“Did you hear that?” A voice nearby. Grumbling and deep. Eerie, in a way exclusive to the citizens of the dark forest.

I held my breath and hung still.

Rustling in the underbrush grew closer.

I didn’t have my sword. But, even without my sword, I had my training. I rocked backward and pulled myself up, clenched my core, strained up to my foot. I grabbed the fringes interlaced around my leg and yanked.

That, with help from gravity, did the trick. I thudded to the ground, grabbed Sunny, and dragged him back between the ledge and an outcropping rock.

The rustling became crashing as branches snapped and footsteps stomped closer.

Two monsters pushed their way into the clearing. Each taller than me and four times as wide. Their skin was grey and mottled - slick, like an amphibian’s. Jagged teeth jutted at odd angles from their massive mouths.

I held my breath. Sunny’s breath was shallow and quiet.

They examined the area through tiny, black eyes. They breathed through open mouths, filling the area with a stench like mold.

One shoved aside shrubs, looking beneath them. The other bee-lined for our rock.

I held Sunny tightly and tucked my feet beneath me, ready to flee. If I tried to fly in this state I’d probably be caught immediately, but there was nothing else I could do unarmed.

The monster stopped short and looked up.

“Over here,” it said. It pointed at the trap plant, half-laced and ripped.

The other approached and looked. It exchanged a glance with its partner, and they burst into raucous laughter.

“Someone got stuck,” one giggled.

“Shoved their whole foot in it,” snorted the other.

One smacked the other’s shoulder, which thumped to the ground with a guffaw. They laughed, and kept laughing. The mold smell was almost overpowering.

I bit back a grimace at my apparently obvious blunder. If I’d been caught then these hideous things would have sooner mocked me than attacked me, but somehow the thought wasn’t comforting.

Eventually they calmed down and left, giggling, pushing away through the underbrush. I waited with Sunny until long after they left, then scooped him back up onto my back and set off again.

After a few minutes of paranoid hiking, convinced by every rustling leaf that I would bump into another set of monsters, I noticed something new. There was a mushroom. In fact, there were a lot mushrooms. Each was taller than me, if only just, with large open caps. They formed a line, not quite uniform, but an unmistakable and deliberate line . And, unless I was very much mistaken, squinting into the dark of the forest. the line headed west.

An easy path. An easy path , in the Dark Forest. Even without the misleading trap plant from earlier, that would have raised suspicion. What would this one do? Lead me in circles until madness? Poison me? I crept forward and poked the nearest mushroom, half- expecting it to turn around and stab me. It didn’t move. I grabbed the brim of its cap and wiggled. Nothing. As far as I could tell, it seemed a normal mushroom. I pulled myself up with one arm and kicked up a leg, balancing Sunny on my back. I stood, and it held our weight easily.

I shifted Sunny’s weight to my arms, then jumped off the mushroom and onto the next, with only the slightest flap of my wings. There was no strain in so small a flight, and no response from the mushrooms. I followed the line. It was almost as fast as flying, but took so little strength that I barely had to strain.

After long minutes, there was a light in the distance. Soft pink light, from between two massive trunks. I leapt from the line of mushrooms, which veered away and back into the darkness, and ran to it.

I burst out between the stems of two pink primroses, into the shining daylight of my own kingdom. To rock and rubble, instead of green pastures, but bright and wholesome nonetheless. I collapsed to the sweet earth, and accidentally thudded Sunny to the ground next to me.

“Marianne!?” Dawn landed next to us in an instant, and squealed as she grabbed our faces and counted our limbs. “Are you guys okay? Did anything try to eat you? Do you have all of your skin? I heard from a friend, that heard from her cousin, that there was a creature in the forest that could infect your brain and turn you into a zombie that was compelled to climb tall trees, and you don’t look like you’ve been infected by zombie tree climbers, but can we be sure? And-”

“We’re fine,” I said as I pushed her pinching hand off of my cheek. “We’re not zombies.”

“Just what a zombie would say.”

She moved away from me to poke and prod at Sunny. I raised a hand to stop her.

Sunny, miraculously, opened his eyes at her first gentle touch.

“I’m cured!” he said as he his arms up in joy. “The power of friendship has cured me!”

I gave him a stern look and in a steady, calming breath.

“Sunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just… fake. unconsciousness. for the past half-hour . so that I would have to carry you? So that you wouldn’t have to walk ?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. I was definitely, totally out for the entire time we were in the Dark Forest. Absolutely no exceptions. I only woke up just this second, when I was cured through the power of friendship. And if I did remember anything about how unconscious I was, I’m certain it wouldn’t have anything to do with how many times you dropped me. So maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember.”

“Sunny?”

“Yes?” He batted his stupidly long eyelashes at me.

“One of these days I’m going to murder you in cold blood and, I cannot stress this enough, the courts will thank me for it.”

“Marianne,” Dawn pouted, “You promised you’d stop threatening to murder my friends.”

I jabbed an accusatory finger at Sunny while I looked at her incredulously. She ignored me, and instead poked and prodded at him, counted his limbs, and asked if he was really sure he wasn’t a zombie.

I groaned and flopped back down, grateful, at least, that she was no longer pestering me.

Sunny was unbothered at her ministrations, and sat up easily so she could have better access. As he rose, he released something that had been stuck, flattened between him and the ground.

A pink primrose petal.

It was nearly as large as Sunny’s torso, it must have gotten stuck underneath him after we passed beneath the flowers earlier.

I lunged forward. I grabbed the petal and chucked it as far back into the darkness as my strength would allow. Being a petal, it simply drifted down a short distance away. I grabbed it again, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it, successfully, back into the Dark Forest.

There. Safe. I turned back to Dawn and Sunny, who were staring at me with open confusion.

“Primrose petal,” I clarified, pointing in the direction I’d thrown. They still looked confused.

“Primrose petal.” I said slowly. “The reason the collection crews come every spring. The super dangerous, super illegal things that mess up people’s heads.”

“You’ve got one stuck to you, though,” said Dawn. I jumped, scrabbling my arms all over myself. Sure enough, there was one creased against my shoulder. I crumpled and pitched that one too.

“Why are they super dangerous and illegal?” asked Sunny, as he stood up and dusted himself off. He winced as he did it. Dawn immediately cooed and offered to help.

I groaned, loudly, because of every single thing that was happening.

“All primroses,” I started, still speaking slowly, “their petals, seeds, pollen, leaves, stems - anything you could make from any of those things - are dangerous . Not only are they dangerous, they’re property of the Dark Forest. It’s the biggest element of our peace treaty with them. Any Fairy Kingdom citizen stealing primrose materials would be considered a breach of that treaty and a potential declaration of war.”

“War?!” asked Sunny. He brushed the front of his shirt frantically to scrub any trace of petal off.

“Why does the Dark Forest get them? They grow on the border, we should get half,” said Dawn.

Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to grab my darling sister by the shoulders and physically shake sense into her, or to kiss her stupid cheeks and pat her on the head.

“Dawn. We don’t want half. You were there when the negotiations were happening. There were announcements about this every day for months. Swarms of people have moved into our house every spring for the last several years because of this. It’s weird enough that Sunny doesn’t know about this, but you have no excuse.”

Dawn looked at me, brows furrowed.

I groaned. “Primroses. are. dangerous. The only thing they’re useful for is potions, and the potions they’re used in are all illegal in the Fairy Kingdom anyway. The Bog King is doing us a favor by taking them.”

“So we’re giving the bad guys super dangerous, powerful potion stuff, and that’s good?” asked Dawn.

“What kind of potions?”  Sunny asked at the same time.

“They’re… ugh. They’re used for the bad kinds of potions. The evil kind that mess with your head. Luck Potions, and Love Potions, and Death Potions and all the really nasty ones.”

“How can a Luck Potion be bad?” asked Sunny.

I flinched at the question. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard one like it. I’d asked similar questions myself once. I didn’t want to remember. It had been over a decade by now, but I would never forget the victims that had been brought in.

“It’s… It’s not really…” I tried to start, but words failed me. “Those kinds of potions… They sound good, but what they’re good for isn’t really you . Does that make any sense?”

They shook their heads in unison.

I sighed and ran a hand down my face, looking for the words.

“All right,” I said, finally. I steepled and un-steepled my fingers, then turned to Dawn. “Okay. Dawn. Let’s play pretend. Let’s say that there’s somebody who hates Sunny. Just hates him, so much.”

“This doesn’t feel very pretend,” muttered Sunny.

“And this person, this somebody, is right on the edge of the clearing.”

“ We’re on the edge of the clearing. This isn’t subtle,” said Sunny.

“And they didn’t tell you this, you don’t know it, but if you punch Sunny in the face, right now, as hard as you can, they’re gonna give you gold and silver and jewels because they’re so happy he got punched.”

“I’m going to side with Sunny on this one, you’re not being very subtle.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine then, Dawn, someone hates you , and Sunny, they’ll pay you to punch her.”

They looked at me aghast.

“This is much worse,” said Dawn.

“Yeah, let’s go back to the first one,” said Sunny.

I groaned. “Fine. Different example. If you trip and fall on your face and give yourself a black eye, then, you don’t know it, but when you go home everyone will be extra nice to you. Or, uhh... if you cover yourself in mud, then your tutor will be too distracted to grade your test and they’ll give you top marks.”

They looked at me patient, waiting for me to continue.

“Well, would you do it?” I asked. “Would you punch your friend, or give yourself a black eye, or roll in mud?”

They considered.

“I wouldn’t do any of it,” decided Dawn. “I’d never hurt Sunny, and if I had a bruise on my face I’d be hideous for days until it healed, and I don’t care what marks I’m getting I’m not muddying up any of my dresses.”

“I wouldn’t hit Dawn,” said Sunny slowly, “but I’d take the black eye and the mud.”

“All right,” I said. “Those are all reasonable choices. What a Luck Potion does, is it gives you the luck, but it takes away the choice.”

Dawn looked confused. Sunny’s eyes widened as he realized what I meant.

“Whether you want to or not,” I continued, “you punch your friend as hard as you can, because it’s lucky . And then you smash your face into the ground, because it’s lucky . And then you go roll in mud, because it’s lucky. And you don’t know why any of those things are lucky, you just do them because the potion makes you.” I sighed and clasped my hands. “It drives people mad. They take a Luck Potion, it wears off a few days later, and they’re gone . Just, empty inside.”

“It lasts days ?” Sunny sounded horrified.

“Longer. I think the biggest ones lasted for weeks.”

Sunny’s jaw dropped. He looked into the distance, shaken.

Dawn looked down at her feet, brows furrowed.

There were a people who recovered. Tiny potions that only lasted a few hours. But when they first came out of it, they weren’t… they weren’t right. ”

“I remember.” Dawn spoke quietly, and didn’t look at us. “They’d just stop. Like puppets that were hung up, with nothing to make them move so they just stopped. ”

I gaped at her. “You remember ? But- but you were just a baby then!”

She shook her head. “Not that young. I could walk. I saw them when they were brought in.” Dawn shivered and slowly sat down. “Is that… when she?”

I nodded. Dawn hugged her shoulders.

“What?” asked Sunny. “What’s happening, who are we talking about?”

“Mirabelle Comfit,” I said, bitterly.

Dawn crouched and moved behind Sunny, as if he would protect her.

Mirabelle Comfit. She had been the most talented potion crafter the Fairy Kingdom had seen in decades - maybe centuries. She had lived with us in the palace when I was a child, and I’d hung on her every word as she lectured and experimented and created. Dawn had sometimes toddled along, barely comprehending, but eager to join the fun. Mirabelle had crafted light shows for us from chemical combinations. Fire we could hold, water we could breathe, and once a talking flower that could answer simple questions.

Even back then, the nobles had judged me. Jabs about my manners, my posture, my bearing, my ripped stockings, my frazzled hair. Mirabelle had never minded. Mirabelle would give me a potion that would make my tongue turn blue and force them out of her lab.

She had been my best friend. Right up to the day of her arrest.

But there was no point dwelling on that.

“Dawn?” I gave her my sternest look. “ How do you remember Mirabelle Comfit but not the primroses? That shouldn’t even be possible.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “If this is about those stupid meetings again, then I’ll tell you now what I told you before: I have never payed attention at one of those horrible snooze-fests and I never will, unless there are cute boys, or if it’s a meeting about something fun.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“One of these days you’re gonna kill me, and it won’t even be with a lizard.”

“You love me.”

“I do. But I don’t know if that means I should ban you from my funeral or force you to plan it.”

She smiled, pleased with herself, only for that pleasure to be overcome by a slow, dawning horror. She looked to see where the sun sat in the sky, then counted rapidly on her fingers.

“Oh no. Oh no no no!” She was up in an instant. “The Spring Ball is in three hours! We won’t have time to get ready!”

I groaned. That happened a lot around Dawn.

“Dawn. We’re all exhausted. Sunny and I almost died. Are you really worried about a dance?”

“Of course!” said Dawn. She put her face way too close to mine. “Are you not?”

“You’re ridiculous and you’re going to drive me insane.” I kissed her cheek, then shoved her away.

“The castle’s only an hour away,” said Sunny, now spry after his long rest. “We’ll be slow, but we won’t be late.”

“But we won’t have time to get ready ! We can’t go to the Spring Ball looking like we crawled out of the dirt!”

“We did crawl out of the dirt. You watched us.”

“That’s not the point! We need to look amazing tonight, okay?”

She looked up at me with big, earnest eyes, and I had a decision to make.

I didn’t want to go to the ball. I didn’t want to stand around with a bunch of courtiers who didn’t like me but felt compelled to fake it. I didn’t want to meet whoever this mystery date was that Dawn had arranged. I didn’t want to watch Dawn exhaust herself trying to rearrange a love life that I wished would die.

But Dawn had very nearly given her life for this stupid plan. There was no telling what trouble she’d get into I didn’t play along.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay for ten minutes. But I’m not dressing up.”

Dawn whooped and threw her hands up. I’m sure she’d have done a loop-de-loop if she wasn’t so tired.

We began our long trudge home. I made sure to collect my sword as we passed by the oak tree. It was dented from the fall, but repairable.

I was sure the next few hours would drag on as I waited for the chance to collapse into bed. But, no matter what shenanigans Dawn had planned, it had to be better than the Dark Forest.

Chapter Text

Stuff and Thang argued at the doorway, reluctant to enter.

“You tell him.”

“No, you tell him. He likes you.”

“... He does ? What did he say?”

“He likes you more. I’m sure of it.”

“No, I mean, what were his exact words?”

I knew enough of Stuff and Thang to know that they could maintain this back-and-forth for hours. They were both remarkable conversationalists; each could circumvent and aggravate as easily as they breathed, while leaving their discussion partners with plenty of opportunities to provide their own grating additions.

They were excellent attendants and performers. My role was always clear.

“Enter!” I barked across the empty throne room. I slammed the butt of my staff on the ground beside me. Stuff and Thang scrambled into the room, passing and re-passing each other as they tried to shove the other before them.

“What news?” I asked as I slouched against my throne. I’d been tense, waiting for news, and my back creaked as I moved. “I trust the primroses are being harvested on schedule.”

“Um. No word on the primroses, sire,” said Thang. He was the smaller one - a misshapen thing with jagged teeth and tiny eyes.

“Good,” I said. “Any alerts from the mushrooms?”

They both visibly winced. They were almost comical in their delivery, just toeing the line of plausibility. This was the subject I was meant to pursue.

“What news?” I growled, leaning forward, staring at Thang. It had taken me weeks after my coronation to perfect that growl, and they both cowered in approval.

Thang looked to Stuff for support, then recited.

“A fair Ian shelf theft, threw flimsy prose.”

There was silence. I waited for the rest of the message, but neither made any attempt to clarify.

My attendants were unhelpful, uncooperative, incompetent, and incomprehensible. If I managed to get even the slightest modicum of work accomplished despite their meddling, it would speak volumes of my skill as a leader.

I was lucky to have subjects that gave me so many opportunities to prove myself.

“You know how furniture makers have been coming up with crazy names for their bookshelves?” Thang babbled, by way of explanation.

“Woodsmiths, the lot of ‘em,” said Stuff.

“That’s a good one.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyway, a bookshelf called ‘Ian’ got stolen? I think? And the thief was a bad writer, and they were reading their material during the theft.”

“Gotta get feedback somewhere.”

“But everyone thought his prose was pretty bad.”

The problem they’d given me was easy to solve. I'd have to get this message from its source. As they carried on, I rose from my throne, let my wings unfurl, and zipped past them toward the castle’s entrance.

A gorge separated the entrance from the forest, and a stream ran through the bottom. Its quiet course was always faintly audible, though barely visible so far below. A single narrow bridge spanned the gorge - unnecessary for anyone with wings, but it gave my grounded subjects the chance to seek an audience, and forced any attacking armies into a single choke-point. More to the point, any message would have had to pass that bridge to reach me.

A line of mushrooms, closely spaced, stood sentinel across it. If any messenger would have to cross the bridge anyway, it was more efficient to have my own messengers already stationed and waiting.

And what messengers they were. In the years I had employed them, and through the many tests I had run, I had never noted even the slightest margin of error. Messages were passed to their recipients with the exact wording and intonation of the original. In just the past few years, they'd become an incalculably valuable element of Dark Forest infrastructure.

I landed by the one at the close end of the bridge.

“What is the message?” I kept my voice loud, nearly a shout. Quiet sounds would be passed from neighbor to neighbor, and it was better to keep the line clear.

“A fairy and elf left through primroses,” the mushroom whispered back.

Intruders. They would need to be apprehended. I nearly barked out an order to launch a brute squad, but bit back the words as I realized the delicacy of the situation.

The mushroom said they had left through the primroses. It hadn’t confirmed that any petals were taken. If the two intruders were already back in Fairy Kingdom territory, I wouldn’t be able to send an attacking force after them. Not without proof of wrongdoing.

I almost scoffed at that thought. They were out in the primroses in spring, what further proof was needed?

But it didn’t add up. I tried to visualize.

If the intruders had tried to walk into the Dark Forest, or to take primroses without fully crossing into my territory, the line of mushrooms that spanned the border would have seen and reported their attempt. There was no such report. For the intruders to enter the Dark Forest without the mushrooms noticing, they would have had to fly in.

But why would they have bothered? No one in the Fairy Kingdom knew about the mushroom sentinels. Their existence was a tightly guarded secret. Why would the intruders go to the effort of flying into the brush instead of walking? Why would they carry in an elf? And once they had entered, why would they simply walk back out again?

None of this made sense. I needed more information. The last mushroom in line waited patiently.

“Were any petals-” I started, but I cut myself off. It may have delivered the message, but this mushroom hadn’t actually seen the event. It knew only what it had told me.

I’d have to ask the mushroom that had seen it.

There was a practice I had nearly perfected of giving orders as simply as possible. It gave my uncooperative subjects less material to twist into mischief, and for those too dim to invent mischief, it was  less to remember. With the mushrooms, who passed messages word-for-word to their neighbor, who passed it word-for-word to theirs, and so on and so forth to the end of the line, a process that would be lengthened by hours or days with every additional syllable, I pushed this practice to its extreme.

I knelt beside the mushroom and spoke softly, so it would know to repeat my query.

“King asks: petals taken?”

It listened, considered, then turned to its neighbor and repeated in a whisper. The neighbor pondered, then turned and repeated.

Eventually the question would reach its answer, and they’d pass the message back. Or, if none knew, the question would reach the end of the line and I’d be met with silence.

I estimated that this would take an hour. Maybe two, if it was a distant point on the border. Regardless, it was faster than going myself.

“Stuff! Thang!” I called. I raised my voice, so not to send another message. My two attendants scuttled out of the castle toward me.

“A message will come in the next few hours,” I told them. “Alert me immediately.”

“Alert, Your Majesty! A message will come in the next few hours!” yelled Thang. I gave him a stern look. He lowered his head in shame.

I stalked past them, back to my place in the throne room. I sat, tense, and waited for news.

The primroses were nearly half destroyed. Only a few days longer. They'd be eliminated, as they had been last year, and the year before that. I only needed to stay vigilant a little while longer.

Chapter Text

The ballroom had many entryways - most blocked off by guards, lest the eastern refugees enter uninvited. The main entrance, used by all members of the nobility and their esteemed guests, was preceded by a long, lavishly decorated hallway, and it opened onto a balcony that overlooked the entire ballroom. Upon entering the room, one could then observe those that had come before them and allow themselves to be observed in kind.

Logic dictated that the later in the evening one made their entrance, the more people had come before them, the larger their captive audience and the greater the impact of their display. Noblewomen in elaborate new costumes, young bachelors and bachelorettes looking to improve their prospects, lords in bitter rivalries, and anyone else who sought the eyes of the gentry vied to be the last through the doors.

The presence of the royal family complicated things somewhat. 

Whether it was wiser to enter before or after the king had been a matter of contention since the ballroom’s construction. To enter after the king - to stand above him and compel him to bear witness -  was not the action of a deferential subject. But to enter too early left one without a tool in the spider’s web of noble politics. And, more practically, when everyone tried to enter just before the king, the crowded hallway became a safety hazard. 

Eventually, it was decided that the sovereign of the land should not be made to dally in doorways to suit the petty squabbles of his subjects, nor should his subjects be denied their grand entrances. The king should arrive in the ballroom exactly one hour after the ball officially began, so those who wanted to enter before had time to do so, and those who would enter after needn’t loiter in the hall until the appointed time.

I thought this was all a bit silly and just snuck in through the servant’s entrance whenever I could. Tonight, unfortunately, that was not an option.

I walked down the entrance hall on my father’s arm. Finely dressed courtiers, newly arrived themselves, bowed and curtsied to us, ran disdainful eyes over my casual clothes, and returned to their own conversations as we passed. 

“I suppose it’s too late for you to go back and change,” said Father. His gait was regal and his head held high, despite the slowness of his steps. 

“My clothes are fine,” I said. I had changed out of the ruined outfit I’d worn earlier into fresh pants and a tunic. I was perfectly presentable, if plain. More importantly, I could still move freely if I needed to beat a hasty retreat from whoever Dawn had arranged for me to be thrown at.

“Had you considered entering earlier? Your simple clothing might then be more easily accepted, and not seen as a statement.” He emphasized the word ‘simple’. I didn’t read into it, though I knew he wanted me to.

“I’m only here because Dawn asked,” I said. “We both know she likes to come in late. If I came in earlier I’d have to wait longer before I could leave.”

Father was silent as he considered my words.

“I think,” he said, quietly, “that I have been too lenient with you. Far too lenient.”

I kept my posture tight, and moved only my eyes as I looked around. The present courtiers were paying attention now. They kept their heads forward as if they were still focused on their own conversations, but voices lowered and ears strained toward us.

Father usually didn’t speak that way where others could hear.

I said nothing.

“You don’t seem to understand that you’re putting your future on the line with this charade of yours.” His voice was low, but far too loud in this crowded space.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered, “But I’m sure we could discuss this further in private .” 

He ignored me.

“You are scaring off potential suitors, Marianne. Men that could make you happy. Men that could take over for me when I’m gone. Men that could lead this kingdom somewhere great-”

“I don’t need a man,” I whispered back. I tried to keep an even tone, but anger seeped in.

“Then what do you need?” His tone was hard. He didn’t ask so I could give an answer, only to let me know I’d displeased him. “You alienate people with your bizarre clothing, you’re distant with the court, you march around pretending you can use a sword-”

“Pretending!?” I said the word too loudly, then reigned my voice back in. “I can use a sword, never mind that I’ve had to teach myself.”

“You taught yourself .” Father scoffed. “A dozen tutors in as many years couldn’t teach you a proper curtsy, but you taught yourself.”

A rash of whispers broke out among the courtiers. Hidden mouths moved behind raised hands. I said nothing. I had learned by every possible method that trying to defend myself against gossip only made it worse.

Father sighed loudly, as if he was trying to call attention to our discussion.

“You didn’t delude yourself like this when you were still with-”

“Don’t bring him into this.” I cut him off without thinking, my voice wholly audible. He gave me a stern look.

“Still with Roland ,” he finished. “You made an effort then. You dressed nicely. You attended functions. That’s not to say you magically became any better at these things, but with consistent practice you might have become at least adequate. This , though?” He gestured to me with his free hand. “The neglect that you show your position, that you show yourself , must stop. What, do you think that Roland will feel spited if you debase yourself in his absence?”

“ Father,” I said sharply. “Do you intend to be overheard?”

He stopped short and pulled his arm from my grasp. 

“Do I say anything that was not already known?” He raised his voice so it was clear throughout the hall. “There are standards for the heir of this kingdom that must be met. Do you think it is a secret that you have not met them? You behave as you do, all but advertising your inadequacy, but you’d place the onus on me to keep it hidden? What do you think I reveal, child?”

The hall no longer whispered. 

I clamped down on the flood of nerves welling up inside me. My skin burned, and I could barely swallow through the lump in my throat.

Father, for all that he spoke of revealing nothing, had revealed a great deal. This was not the first such speech he had given me. Since I was a child I’d received countless lectures detailing disappointments in my clothing, behaviour, and character - this wasn’t even the first time he had expressed reticence in having me as an heir. These diatribes, always given in private rooms and empty halls, were never meant to be eavesdropped upon. But they always were . Guards and gossips had ensured that my father’s opinion was common knowledge, and the public curried favor accordingly. That is, they had snubbed and scorned me subtly , knowing that their information was illicit.

Father had just removed that safeguard. By disapproving of me publicly, he had destroyed any pretext of indifference. Those who had tolerated my presence would grow cold,  and those who had been cold would become unbearable. 

A war of public approval with the most powerful man in the kingdom was not a war I could win.

I had reconciled myself to this outcome years ago. The intense discomfort was just as I had imagined it would be, but the revelation didn’t hurt in the way it might have when I was a child.

“Okay,” I said, plainly.

He looked down on me, eyebrows furrowed, and waited for me to finish. That was my complete thought, though, so he waited in vain.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” he demanded, after too long a pause.

“Yeah. I said okay.”

“You will amend your behaviour?”

I shrugged. “That’s not what I said. You said what you thought, and then, to show I heard you, I said okay.”

His nostrils flared. The hallway fell silent. 

“Are you truly such a fool that you fail to comprehend my meaning? Or simply fool enough to ignore it?”

I said nothing, but did not look away.

The hour chimed. Father scoffed and turned away without another word, departing the hall with the same regal bearing he’d had when he’d entered. As soon as he was gone, I slunk back the way I came. I had to hold in the urge to throw up, or else to start crying. Whispers welled up behind me. At least they took efforts to talk behind my back and not to my face. For now.

I leaned against the wall at the far end of the corridor and waited for Dawn.

Two hours later, I was still waiting. Sounds of the ball, well underway, trickled in from the far door. Only a few very determined courtiers remained, each one glaring daggers at the rest and willing them to go first. 

Odious thoughts, usually reserved for the dead of night, pushed in at the edges of my mind. Dreadful whispers about my worth, about how Father might be right, about whether I deserved every scornful word and worse.

After the initial shock discomfort had passed, I’d calmed down enough to clamp these thoughts down. I couldn’t always fend them off. Only years of practice made it possible, and even so it was difficult. 

The nearer door crashed open. I jumped up and reached instinctively for my sword, which of course I hadn’t brought. 

Dawn burst in, saw me, and charged into my arms. I was close enough to use the wall for support, or else the force of her hug would have knocked me to the floor.

“I heard what happened!” she said, rapid fire. “I thought you were going to come early, but then you weren’t in the ballroom, and then Daddy came in alone, and then I heard , and then I thought you must have gone to your room, and then you weren’t there either, and I told Daddy not to make any trouble tonight because I had a super important plan planned, but then he did , and ooh I am going to have words with him, but the important thing is are you alright?”

Just having Dawn next to me helped. She pinched at my cheeks and ran hands through my hair, as if I might somehow bear scars and bruises from Father’s lecture.

“I’m fine,” I said.

She looked relieved, for a moment. Then she frowned.

“What was he thinking?” She made the face she usually reserved for pouting, as if she could pry the answer from me. Her hands moved from my cheeks to my ears, still tugging.

“He probably wasn’t. It’s fine.”

“What do you mean?”

I gently pulled her hands away. “He knows he can’t get rid of me. His only other option is you. ”

She gave me a confused look. I took both of her shoulders gently. “Dawn, you know I love you very much, but he wouldn’t try to make you his heir. You are a born trouble-maker and the palace would be in flames by the end of the first day.”

She beamed. “I love you very much too!”

I kissed her forehead. “All he’s doing right now is making things difficult for me. He’s not getting his way, so he’s making sure I don’t get mine. One day I’m going to rule, and it’ll be harder to do that with subjects that have spent years treating me poorly on his behalf.”

She looked at me sadly. 

“It’s fine,” I said. “I don’t need anyone to suck up to me to do my job. And I’ve got you, so I won’t be too lonely.”

Her sad expression melted into a smile, and she squeezed me tighter. We stayed like that for a while. 

Finally Dawn broke away and tugged me toward the far door. “Okay, I’m happy we had this conversation, and I love you, and you’re my favorite sister, but I think we need to put this on hold for a moment because you need to get into that ballroom right now.”

I snorted at her abrupt subject change. She looked affronted.

“You have to! I’ve been planning this for weeks and I’m not gonna let him wait all night!”

“Him?” I cocked an eyebrow. Dawn went pale.

“Well- Well that’s- See, actually-”

“This is such a surprise, Dawn. There was no way I could have foreseen this. You evil mastermind. How could I have possibly known that you were trying to hook me up with someone? The shock is gonna kill me.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You knew what I was planning and you still came dressed like that ?”

“Oof, ouch, my last two feelings.”

“Okay, but seriously,” she said. She dragged me toward the ballroom’s entrance. “He’s been waiting for like three hours because I expected you to come early, and I told him to wait at a special spot right by the fountain, which means he hasn’t moved and he’ll probably need a bathroom break soon so can we please just get you into the ballroom already?”

I let her drag me. Everyone in the hall let us pass, happy to have one less competitor in the race to be last. We crossed the threshold and looked out onto the ballroom.

The ballroom was immense. A chandelier of living flowers grew out of the ceiling, and each bloom glowed magically, wafting its perfume throughout the room. Tiny, private alcoves jutted out from the primary, circular room. The central feature was a golden fountain, comprised of three monumental statues that towered over the rest of the assembly.

Dawn and I descended, and pushed our way into the crowd.

“You said he’d be by the fountain?” I asked. 

“That’s where I told him to wait.”

“He might have given up.”

“I don’t think so. He seemed really excited to see you again.”

“How will I recognize him? Wait, what do you mean again?”

I spotted him as the questions left my mouth. Golden hair framed a handsome, smirking face. His leaf green armor shone, newly polished. He stood up straighter when he caught sight of me, and I could see that it wasn’t nervousness that made him change his posture.

Roland was confident.

Time stopped. A pit of dread opened in my stomach, and my heart dropped into it. My skin ached as though a current ran through it. My hands started to sweat, and felt somehow separate from the rest of my body. Blood rushed in my ears. The room seemed to fall quiet, or I imagined it so.

Dawn was behind me. Her arm was no longer linked in mine. Without her to tether me, my body moved on its own. I drifted toward him - my feet carried me, somehow, but I couldn’t feel them. My entire body felt distant.

Roland ran his eyes up and down my body, pushed one hand through his perfect hair, then opened his arms for a hug.

The fucking bastard wanted a hug .

My fist cracked against his nose. Bone crunched. Blood spattered onto my sleeve. He screamed and stumbled back, but his heels hit the base of the fountain. His arms flailed, and he hit the water with a splash. 

There was a gasp, I think. The roaring in my ears made it hard to tell. Roland pushed his head up and sputtered.

“M-Marianne.” His face was coated in blood, which mixed with the water and seemed to pour out of him. “Marianne, wait, I-”

I grabbed the top of his chest plate and hoisted him out of the water. I held him there, teetering backward, and punched him again. My knuckle dug into his eye.

I punched gain. Cheek bone.

Again. His same eye, now swollen shut.

Again. 

Something caught my arm as I pulled it back. Someone was screaming? Maybe? I couldn’t tell. 

A guard grabbed me under the arms and hauled me backwards, but I didn’t let go of dumbfuck bastard Roland. I punched him again before anyone could stop me. Another guard grabbed Roland. He tried to pry my fingers off of his armor, but I held tight and swung again.

A weight hit me from the side. Dawn. She threw herself on top of me and screamed something. I couldn’t understand her through the roaring and the shouting , wait, when had all this shouting started? 

I stopped swinging. I wouldn’t risk hitting Dawn.

Roland sagged and gurgled in the guard’s arms. His face was sopped in blood, as was most of his chest plate. The guard behind me lifted me to my feet, but made no move to step away.

“Marianne?” Dawn’s voice was high and panicked. “What was- are you okay? Did he- what did- What’s happening? Why did you do that?”

 I couldn’t respond. I could barely think straight. The only thing in my head was a foggy, thoughtless incredulity.

“It’s all right,” said Roland. Only a hint of his accent peaked through the choking and sputtering. I’d thought his accent was charming, once. A sign of how traveled and charismatic my fiance was. “This isn’t the first time Marianne hurt me. This isn’t even the worst.”

He thought I’d hurt him??  

I kicked, hard. My foot connected with his chest plate and he stumbled back, but the guard behind him propped him upright. The one behind me gripped tight and heaved me backward, out of reach. 

Roland continued. He tried to give me a simpering puppy dog look, but the effect was ruined by the gushing blood and swollen eye.

“You left me at the altar, Marianne. You wouldn’t even tell me why. ” 

“You know exactly why, you rat bastard. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“ What is the meaning of this?! ” Father’s voice, even contorted by fury, was clear and authoritative. He stormed toward us. Courtiers leapt out of his way, leaving a clear avenue.

The guards holding me and Roland let go and snapped to salute. I thudded to the ground. Roland, unfortunately, kept his footing.

Dawn kneeled beside me and gripped my arm tight. She was behind me, so I was between her and Father. That was flattering. Even when I was the one in trouble, she still relied on me. 

Father looked at us: Roland’s bloody face and my very bloody hands.

“ What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This. ”

The situation felt distant and surreal. Like I was barely a person, only thinly tethered to a body that had decided, on its own, to pummel a man into a bloody pulp. I’d definitely beaten up Roland, I didn’t deny that, but through some cloudy logic it seemed like, because I’d never consciously decided to do it, it didn’t count.

Obviously I didn’t say that out loud. 

“It’s my fault, Your Majesty.” Roland looked up from beneath his swollen eye, but he wasn’t simpering now. No, he looked brokenhearted. Pathetic. “I pursued where I wasn’t wanted. ”

Father whirled on me, fury burning brighter than I’d ever seen.

“What do you have to say for yourself? What justification could you possibly give for your behaviour?”

I thought about it, but I didn’t even have an answer that would satisfy me .

I shrugged.

Roland laughed. I knew that laugh. It was supposed to sound flippant, but through a mouthful of blood it sounded bitter.

“See? Even she doesn’t know why she acts the way she does.” He smirked. “You’re so lucky I love you, Marianne. Nobody else could bear the things you put them through.”

“I don’t understand,” said Dawn, softly. Her knuckles were white on my arm. “He said that he wanted to meet you again. He said he still loved you. I don’t understand. Why did you attack him? Why did this happen?”

Dawn looked heartbroken. She’d been planning this for who knows how long, working with him to make this night happen. He’d been filling her head with whatever invented reality he ascribed to our breakup. She saw the violence I’d inflicted, but she had no idea why I’d done it.

I’d never told her. I’d never told anyone. I couldn’t bear the humiliation. She’d understand if she knew, but I couldn’t bear the way people would look at me. The public debate. The pity.

“ He can tell you. If he’s got the guts.” I glowered at him, but he met me with a steady gaze.

“I made one mistake, Marianne. That woman didn’t mean anything to me.”

I blinked. I hadn't expected him to actually admit it.

Dawn’s eyes went wide. She looked at me, then back at him, and made a disgusted sound.

Roland continued.

“You left me. Left us. We could have had a lifetime together, and you threw all of that away because I made one little mistake .”

My head reeled.

“I caught you cheating on our wedding day and you call that ‘ one little mistake?’”

Dawn leapt up and socked Roland in the jaw.

“ ENOUGH .” Father massaged his temple. “This is not a discussion to be had in public.” 

“Oh, now we can have private conversations?!” 

Father gave me a look that could wither flowers. He motioned with one hand, and the guards surrounding us moved. One took each of my arms, another took one of Roland’s. Father turned on his heel and strode out of the ballroom, and we were made to follow. Dawn, guard-free, followed close behind.

Courtiers were silent as we passed.

We were led deep into the palace, to Father’s private audience chambers. No. To His Majesty’s audience chambers. He unlocked the door, and the guards filed us in. When Dawn moved to enter he raised a hand, then shut the door in her face.

We were all alone in the room now. Father turned to the guards.

“Release them and step back, but be ready to intervene should it become necessary.”

The guards did so. The king turned to me.

“Marianne. You have wronged Roland. Apologize to him.”

“Beg pardon?” I asked.

“Apologize to Roland. Your behaviour was inexcusable.”

I looked at His Majesty, my feelings as obvious as his were obscure.

“He showed up like nothing happened after I caught him cheating . On our wedding day .”

“And he apologized.”

“ No he didn’t! ”

His Majesty clicked his tongue. “Didn’t he? Or did you refuse to listen?”

“He didn’t.”

“Then it is only because you didn’t give him the opportunity.” He turned to Roland and offered a silk handkerchief, which Roland happily accepted and used to wipe some of the now-drying blood from his face. 

“Roland. Speak. Marianne should hear what you came here to tell her.”

Roland looked from His Majesty to me, smug, and began his version of events.

“As you know, Your Majesty, Marianne and I were engaged for months. My darlin’ buttercup has always been… difficult.” He gave me a nasty smirk. “But, of course, she was the kindest, most beautiful woman I’d ever met, so I found it within myself to tolerate her episodes. ”

“What episodes? ” I spat. “I didn’t have episodes.”

“You’re having an episode now, Marianne,” said His Majesty.

“May I continue?” asked Roland.

“Of course. Never mind the interruption.”

I fumed, but Roland continued before I could object.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, being a man of the world, I’d had other loves before Marianne. I didn’t hide that from her, but I didn’t expose her to it unnecessarily - why would I want to hurt my poor bride-to-be with tales of long lost loves? I didn’t think anything of it, after all, Marianne was the only woman in my heart. But then, on the day our wedding was supposed to take place, a woman from my former life suddenly reappeared. She told me that she still had feelings for me, and I told her that my heart was taken. We shared a chaste kiss, when suddenly Marianne came charging in, slinging accusations of cheating-”

“I came to give you a boutonniere, and you had your tongue down her throat.” I said.

“I tried to tell you that it wasn’t what it looked like!”

“No, you didn’t! You said, ‘Oh no, looks like I’m not going to be king, am I? How will I get my army now?’ You didn’t say a word to me!”

“You stormed out!”

“Marianne,” said His Majesty. “Listen to me closely. I have made it clear to you that I disapprove of your recent behaviour. In retrospect I don’t know what I’d expected of this evening. I must have been delusional to think you would be civil.” He waved his hand. “No matter. You need a firm hand to keep you in check. Roland, in all his patience, is willing to take you back. If you agree to marry him, I will consider all of your previous childishness amended. Do you accept?”

I stared at him, jaw dropped. I tried to comprehend and failed utterly.

“You- He’s a- Wait, is that why you made a scene in the hall?”

He scoffed. “ Made a scene? Please.”

“That’s why you wanted people to hear us. You’re holding my public approval hostage unless I marry a cheater!”

“All men have indiscretions, Marianne. The sooner you reconcile yourself to that, the happier you will be in marriage.”

I gaped. “I will not reconcile myself to that! What the fuck? ”

He sighed in frustration. “Stop acting childish. No partner is perfect. It is our love, and our faith that makes them so. If Roland, the man you love, says that he did not betray you, then you must believe him.”

“Are you kidding me? I saw him. I’m supposed to believe his half-assed excuses over my own eyes?”

“This is a question of the faith you hold in your partner. Or, rather, your disturbing lack of it. I love Roland as I would my own son, and I know that he would not behave as you say he did.”

I crossed my arms. “So you’re saying that, if you love someone enough, you should ignore every bad thing they do and the evidence of your own eyes.”

“If you truly loved him, then that is what you should have done. That is what I expect of you now.”

I gave the king a flat look. He didn’t blink.

“All right, Dad. I didn’t punch Roland tonight.”

There was a moment of silent, intense confusion. His Majesty looked at me as if I was mad, and Roland cocked an eyebrow as he gestured at his bloody face.

“I don't understand, child."

“I didn’t punch him. It didn’t happen.”

His majesty massaged his temple. “That isn’t going to work.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe me? Don’t you love me, Dad? ”

“ Enough. This argument is nonsense. There’s a difference between alleged marital indiscretions and public violence. There were dozens of witnesses to tonight’s display.”

 “Oh, so that’s the qualifier? Witnesses?” I gave an incredulous laugh. “Well let me tell you, it turns out that there were a lot of witnesses for Roland’s ‘little mistake.’” 

Roland had been quiet for a while, and now he grew pale.

“The guards you bribed were quick to talk,” I said, “and so were the boarding houses you stayed at. And by the way? The girl you’d been cheating on me with? Anura? Remember her?”

He had the decency to wince at her name. I drank in his discomfort like fine wine.

“It took her a while, but sure enough, she came in to give her story. Somehow she seemed to think that you and I weren’t a real couple. Crazy, right? No idea how , but she seemed to think that we were only together as a publicity stunt. You’ll never guess who told her that. Take a guess. Give it your best shot. I dare you.”

Roland looked uncomfortable, and not just because of his injuries. “That’s not… now buttercup, if you really think some made-up reports are going to-”

“ Made-up ? Do you think crown guards would give false testimony? Insult me all you want, but don’t you dare insult the hard-working guards that defend my family’s lives!”

The three guards, still present, shifted somewhat at being reduced to a rhetorical device.

“I have a half-dozen witnesses with consistent stories that say you’d been seeing Anura for weeks . And then you have the audacity to show up here uninvited and call me a liar?”

“He was not uninvited, Marianne,” said the king. “I invited him. I sought him out a short while after your separation. He told me the story as I choose to believe it.”

“As you choose to believe it,” I repeated. 

“Yes, as I choose to believe it. You’ve already been made aware of my opinion of your behaviour. I thought that with a sufficient reminder,” he gestured to Roland, “of who you might have been - who you’re meant to be - you might come to your senses. But no. I see now that that was too much to hope for.”

“Who I’m meant to be. You think I’m meant to be his brainless little subservient bi-”

“Marianne!” His Majesty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, no, you just want me to marry him, let him lead the kingdom, turn a blind eye while he screws other women, and lie to myself the entire time. That’s all. That’s my role in life. That’s the peak of my potential.”

“I’m tired of this. You have made it clear that you won’t see reason and, tragically, I cannot force you to do the sensible thing. You are dismissed.”

He clapped twice, and the room shifted instantly. The guards snapped into salutes and one strode away to open the door for me. 

I looked at them. My father and the man I used to love. Two men who had betrayed me. 

I turned and left without another word. The moment I crossed the threshold the door slammed behind me.

I stood alone in the silence of the hallway.

From around the corner, Dawn poked her head out.

“I’m alone,” I said, arms open. “You can come out.”

She unfurled her wings and rushed at me. I braced against a wall, ready for her body-slam of a hug. It didn’t happen.

She alighted in front of me, wrapped her arms loosely around me, and pressed her forehead gently against my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t know. I thought you guys had just had a tiff or something and that if you saw each other at a party in nice clothes that it would make it all better and I didn’t know that he’d been so horrible or I’d have never-”

The change in tone was so abrupt that I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. 

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes.

I pulled my arms out of her weak grasp, threw them over her, and hugged her as hard as I could. She squeaked in surprise.

“You’re not mad?”

“Are you kidding?” I kissed the top of her head, then hugged her tight enough to lift her off the floor. “You punched him in the jaw!”

She squealed, half from joy and half from the tightness of my hug “I did! I actually hurt my hand really bad! Look!”

I let her go and she waved her hand in front of my face. Sure enough, her knuckles were faintly pink. I gave her another squeeze. She squeezed back.

“Have you eaten anything?” she asked when I finally let go. “You were waiting in the hallway for all that time, and then of course there was the fight, and then Daddy went and dragged you into his lecture room, and I can only imagine that you are very hungry.”

“Not gonna lie, I could eat.”

Dawn grinned mischievously. “I may have stolen a bunch of party food and hidden it in my room.”

I smiled back. “Slumber party?”

“Only if you tell me what was going on in there. I could barely hear anything through the keyhole.”

I snorted. “You were listening at the keyhole from around the corner?”

“Daddy always does that clapping thing. Gave me plenty of time to run away.”

“Ahh, gotcha.”

She took my elbow. Arm in arm, we set off for a private night together of food, rest, and long explanations.

Chapter Text

So my plan backfired.

I was holed up in a cot in the palace medical center. It wasn’t completely necessary; my face was the only thing injured. But I’d insisted. Being seen around the court with a black eye and crushed nose would win me sympathy, but people would draw a connection in their minds between me and marred faces, and I couldn’t let that happen. Better to wait for a few days and let my face heal slightly. Then I could rake in all the benefits of their pity, without losing any long-term respect.

Staying in the medical center for a few days would make Marianne’s attack seem more grievous, too. Win-win. 

That was still strange, actually. Despite the proof on my face, I could hardly wrap my head around the idea of Marianne attacking. The girl I’d nearly married couldn’t attack a falling leaf if her life depended on it. She’d been almost as thoughtless and willing as her sister back then. But her sister’s natural ease and charisma had evaded her, just like the fatherly love that Dawn came by so easily.

Marianne had been a child in heart and mind, but her life gave her none of the leeway of childhood. She’d been awkward, overeager, and desperate for any hint of approval or affection.

She’d been perfect.

The Marianne I’d almost married had had a bewitching malleability to her. She swallowed every lie I fed her like a precious antidote against a toxic life. If I gave the slightest hint of pulling away, she’d be on perfect behaviour, ready to do whatever was necessary to make me stay.  Poets would have written songs about such a perfect, obedient wife. 

And then she’d refused to swallow the lie that would have made her happiest, poor dimwit. 

One lie looks very like another. I’d fed her some half-dozen pleasant tales already, about how she was the only one for me, and no other woman could ever hold a candle, blah blah. But when I told her plainly that my affair wasn’t an affair, she didn’t bite. When she was so close to securing her own happiness, she let me go. 

Tragic, really. Not very smart of her. Of course, her slow thinking was half the reason I wanted to marry her, so it wasn’t surprising.

After the cancelled wedding there was one obvious course of action: I ran damage control. I charmed her king and country in a way she never could. I spread my story of Marianne’s violent overreactions and dubious perception. Above all, I let her simmer in her own loneliness. When I thought she had suffered enough, when she understood the pain that questioning me brought, I could let her come back to me, even more desperate and loving than before.

That was the plan. As perfect as my little bride.

But the Marianne I’d seen in the ballroom wasn’t the same woman. She moved like she’d been through a war zone. She bared teeth and snarled and hissed like a cornered animal. Her father had said she’d ‘let herself go,’ and her sister said that she ‘didn’t care about dressing up anymore.’ I’d expected to find her a few pounds heavier and makeup-free, not lean and sharp and feral.

No. My plan hadn’t failed. It had simply worked too well. I had stayed away too long, and my poor lonely simpleton had gone mad in my absence. Like a flower without the sun, she had rotted away into a husk of what she had been before.

I’d still wife the crazy broad if I had to. A perfect, submissive wife would have been nice, but I’d take an angry one if it made me king.

Though obviously the ideal method, marrying Marianne seemed less and less like the path that would lead me to the throne. She was too far gone for my charm to bring her to her senses, and there was no law that could force her to marry me - at least, not right now. I’d have to choose another plan.

I had three strategies left that could win me the kingdom, all problematic: 

One. My original plan. I could marry one of the two princesses. Dawn was the obvious choice now that Marianne had been driven mad, but for the plan to work I would have to woo her. Unlike her sister, Dawn was outgoing and well-liked. It would be difficult to make her completely dependent on me, as I had done with Marianne. Or I could force Marianne to marry me if I had to, through blackmail or drugs or torture or threatening her sister, but word would certainly get out and that would be bad for my image. 

Two. I could woo the King and frame both potential heirs as unsuitable. This plan seemed more viable. The King was disappointed in both his daughters, who each showed signs of madness or incompetence. If I arranged the princesses’ downfalls correctly, I could be heir to the throne within the next two years. But that much time meant that many more chances for things to go wrong. But maybe, if I could charm the king on a shorter time frame...

Three. The obvious answer. Simple. Foolproof. Get military backing and stage a coup. I already had connections among some of the higher ranking generals. Convincing the King to give me his throne would take years, but an army? I could make it happen within the week, if not tonight. All that to say that I would absolutely not be staging a coup. I’d have to be the stupidest man in the history of this kingdom. I may as well plaster a sign on my chest that says, “I, The King, attained this position through brute force, and you can too!” I had better sense than that , surely. No, I would only resort to a coup if all other avenues had been exhausted.

Not that I could do much of anything right now.

I was holed away in a medical wing of the palace, confined to bed until my injuries healed well enough to see out of both eyes and breathe without reopening the cuts on my face. It wouldn’t do to fly out the door and choke on my blood on the way out. 

The medical wing was almost empty, other than some elf a few beds down pretending to sleep. I suspected that most of the palace residents stayed confined to their rooms when they took ill - this place was reserved for those that had no rooms to go back to. It suited me just fine. My recuperation was in a public part of the palace; people could look in on my pathetic state and use my terrible affliction to inform their ideas about what sort of a person Marianne really was. 

More importantly, it left me plenty of time to plan for Dawn. I had seen a bit of her as she set up ‘Her Plan,’ not realizing that it was the King and I who had put the idea in her head. But I hadn’t seen enough to make a plan. What did she do for fun? How could I find out? I’m sure I could get the King to tell me. It wouldn’t even raise suspicion if I phrased it right. If I told him that I saw Dawn as a confidant, that I wanted to press her for information about Marianne, maybe. Yes, that would do it. Act like I was wooing one of his daughters so he’d give me information on the other. Perfect plausible deniability.

The door to the hall opened, and Dawn came in. Her pink wings were tucked behind her, brushing the floor, as if she was afraid to take up too much space in this room lest she knock something over. She approached my bed. I was about to sit up to greet her but she didn’t stop, and she stuck her nose up as she passed. She stopped in front of the elf’s bed instead and sat down near his feet. I rolled over and pretended not to listen.

“Sunny?” she whispered. “I came to visit. Are you feeling any better?”

The elf, Sunny, groaned and stretched as he pretended to wake up.

“Dawn? Is that you? What day is it? How long have I been asleep?”

“You’ve been asleep for ten thousand years. ”

“ What? ” I heard, rather than saw, the elf sit up in a mad panic, then groan dramatically in pain.

“Oh no! I was just teasing, please be careful! It’s only been one night, you were brought in yesterday, before the ball.”

“The ball. Right. How did it go?”

“Ugh. It turned out that Roland is a horrible person , and a cheater , and he cheated on Marianne on their wedding day. ” I didn’t move, refusing to reveal my eavesdropping, even though her words were very pointedly aimed at me. Dawn disliked me right now. That could complicate things.

“That explains why she’s been acting so weird since they broke up,” said the elf. There was a pause, and a rustle of fabrics. “Who’s that guy?”

I kept still, and held my breathing steady.

“ That sorry, sad-sack, miserable excuse for a person is Roland.”

There was a pause, as the elf processed.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. Marianne walked in the room and saw him there and then immediately started beating him up in front of everybody. It was great.”

“It was great ?”

“It was really scary and confusing, and then I found out why she was doing it, and then it became great.”

“Ah.”

There was another pause.

“I told you she was gonna punch him.”

Dawn gave an exaggerated gasp. “No you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“No, you said she’d throw her drink at him.”

“I thought I said she’d punch him.”

“Nuh-uh. You said she’d throw a drink, and then I said he would be too far away for a drink to hit, and then we almost got killed by a lizard.”

Killed by a lizard? Was that slang? Wooing Dawn was looking less and less feasible with every passing moment, but if that was my only shot then I hoped I wouldn’t have to learn whatever code that was.

The elf groaned again. “Did you, uh. Did you dance with Cyprus?”

The question hung on the air, awkwardly, and neither spoke for a few moments.

“You know,” said the elf. “Marianne was gonna have the first dance, and then you were gonna dance with Cyprus.”

“Oh,” said Dawn. “Oh, yeah, no. Marianne was covered in blood and there were guards and Dad was yelling and I’m gonna be honest I forgot about Cyprus a little bit.”

“Nice. Yeah. Who cares about Cyprus, right? Cyprus is the worst .”

There was another awkward pause. 

“Sooooo. Get well soon, okay? I’m not having any fun with you stuck in bed all day. Do you think you’ll be better in time for the Elf Festival tomorrow? I don’t want to go without you.” 

“I don’t know. The doctors said it was pretty serious. I don’t want to risk anything.”

Dawn whined. “Well, get well soon, okay? I’d hate to go alone.” Dawn rustled the sheet as she stood up. 

“Wait!” said the elf. “Can I have a hug? For luck. To get better faster.”

Dawn snorted. “Of course , you silly-billy. You don’t need to ask.”

They hugged, and the elf hummed happily at the contact.

“Okay, I gotta go. I’ll come back to visit soon, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Dawn walked out of the room and harrumphed her nose back into the air as she passed me. She closed the door behind her, and the elf sat up.

“I know you’re not really sleeping.”

I turned and looked at him. He was short, but all elves were, and his clothes were disheveled and dusty. His dark face glowered at beneath a shock of even darker hair, which itself was tucked beneath a hat of fashioned lady-bug wings. He looked bruised here and there, but I couldn’t see any injuries that were hospital-worthy.

“What gave the game away?” I asked.

“What didn’t?” said the elf, and he started to list off on his fingers. “You ‘fell asleep’ too fast, your breathing was too shallow, you were way too tense, and your position wasn’t natural at all.”

Huh. Not bad. “You notice a lot.”

He barked a laugh. “First time I’ve gotten that one. Listen buddy, as one faker to another, you need to step up your game if you’re gonna get with Marianne.”

Now this was unexpected. “Are you helping me?” I asked. “You want me and Marianne to be together?”

The elf nodded, as if it were obvious. “I’m the one who set up your meeting. Of course I want you and Marianne together.”

I gestured to my swollen face. “You know that she wasn’t happy to see me.”

“You think you’re the first guy she’s punched? Marianne isn’t happy to see anyone. ” The elf sighed. “Anyone except Dawn. ”

I tried to piece together what had happened. This elf and Dawn spent a lot of time together - Dawn knew him on a first name basis and seemed to enjoy his company - but it seemed like he wanted more from her than friendship. If he had a problem with Marianne spending time with her sister…

“You want Dawn, and you want Marianne out of your hair so you can spend time alone with her.” I guessed, and going by the elf’s widened eyes, I hit the mark.

Now this was a situation. It didn’t seem like I’d be able to seduce Dawn, what with this other rival here who no doubt knew more about her interests than I did. But he wanted me to be with Marianne, and it seemed like he’d be willing to help me to an extent, as long as it helped his own interests.

An idea struck me. An awful idea. One that would destroy my reputation if I was caught - but I wouldn’t be the one who got caught.

“What’s your name?” I asked, leaning forward and looking at him through my good eye.

“It’s Sunny,” he said, looking toward me as well. 

“Sunny. You know, I think we’re kindred spirits, after a fashion.”

“What?” asked Sunny. I think he meant for it to be flat, but his tone arced up at the end. 

“We both love these princesses, right? But neither of us stand a chance. It’s not even our fault! We’re giving it our all, but they just won’t see it.”

“Y-yeah, I guess.” Sunny’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I have done so much for Marianne. I put so much time and effort into getting to know her, and getting her to know me, only to get tossed out on my ear as soon as I failed to meet her standards. You understand.” I focused on his face, watching for a sign as I continued. “You know you how easily you could lose everything.”

He grimaced and looked away.

Deadshot.

“It weighs on you, doesn’t it?” I pushed further. “You know that it only takes one moment where she thinks you’re not good enough, and you lose years of time and effort. You lose her. ”

He was trying to hide it, but his expression was dark. I had him.

“I think it’s a crime, the way you’re being treated. You’re clearly devoted to her.”

Sunny sighed. “I am. She’s amazing. I’d do anything for her.”

“It’s obvious that you’d do anything for her. I can see that just by looking at you. You’d risk your life for her love- you probably already have.”

“I have!” Sunny sat up straighter. “I practically fought off a lizard for her! Why doesn’t she see that?”

Oh god that hadn’t been slang . What the hell were these two doing? I kept my face straight and kept on.

“I wish there was a way to make them see how much we love them. We’d do anything for them! We know they’d be happier with us, why can’t they understand that? Dawn would be much happier with you than she would be bouncing between guys, right?”

“The other guys!” Sunny groaned. “They don’t make her happy! I do everything for her. I make her happy. But she always goes back to them! ”

I gave him the most sympathetic look I could. “You make her happy, but she doesn’t try to dance with you, does she?”

Sunny slumped and said nothing.

I let the silence hang for a moment before I continued.

“I wish I could make them see it.” I mirrored him and slumped back, arms crossed. “If we could just make them love us for a moment , they’d understand. But I guess you can’t force someone to fall in love, even if it’s for their own good.”

Sunny stiffened and inhaled sharply. “I think I have an idea.”

Perfect. “What?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “What idea?”

“A way we could make them love us. Just for a moment, and then we could undo it, but they’d see. ”

“What are you talking about?” Hm. I’d have to talk him out of the ‘undo it’ part, but that could wait. No, once he had Dawn fawning all over him, he could persuade himself. 

“I’m talking about a Love Potion,” said Sunny. “I know where to find some primrose petals.”

 He knew where to get primrose petals? What kind of black market connections did this guy have? I’d been planning to drain my savings to fund his illicit search, but if Sunny had another method lined up then I wasn’t going to complain.

“We get the petals,” continued Sunny,  “We find Mirabelle Comfit, and we get her to make us some love potions. Dawn and Marianne fall in love with us, and they realize we would make them happy, and everybody lives happily ever after! It’s a perfect plan!”

"Mirabelle Comfit?" I asked. 

"A potion maker," said Sunny. "According to the nurses, she used to work here at the palace, but now she's a political prisoner in the Dark Forest."

My brain tripped over itself trying to follow his reasoning. His first thought was to infiltrate an enemy prison while carrying contraband? Was this Comfit person the only potion maker in the world who knew the technique? What did he know that I didn't?

"So we get the petals, find Mirabelle Comfit, then come back," I said. Sunny nodded.

“That’s-” I beamed at him, but then frowned, and slumped down into my bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s almost a perfect plan,” I moped, laying it on thick. “But look at me. I can’t go adventuring through the Dark Forest in this condition.” I screwed up my face and forced some tears up into my eyes. “N-now M-Marianne will never l-l-love m-m-m-me.”

Sunny leapt out of bed and was at my side in an instant. “Don’t cry! I can do it myself!”

“Y-you can?”

“Look at me,” he said, holding his arms out and turning. “I’m small. Nothing in the Dark Forest will even notice me.”

“But aren’t you injured too?” I asked.

“I mean kinda. I got bruised up pretty bad when I hit the ground, but mostly I just wanted Dawn to fawn over me and nurse me back to health.” He scratched the back of his head. “It didn’t work anyway.”

Wow. I hadn’t meant it when I’d said we were kindred spirits, but I was starting to think there was something there. We really did think the same way.

“Will you be able to make it on your own?” I asked, leading him into it.

“Of course!” he answered. “Leave it to me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He took off out the door without another word, much faster than I’d have thought for someone his height.

This plan was perfect. Either he’d come back with the love potions and Marianne would be mine, or else he’d die in the Dark Forest and Dawn would need comforting over the loss of her dear friend. 

Either way, all I had to do was wait.

Chapter Text

It was about noon by the time I reached the edge of the Dark Forest, and the dirt patch where I’d sat with Dawn before. But there was a problem. The primroses, which had lined the border between the Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest, were gone. Stems lined it now, devoid of petals or even leaves.

“It’s only been a day ,” I grumbled. “How fast do these Dark Forest guys work?”

But there was still hope. I adjusted my backpack - full of survival rations, bedding, rope, a knife, a compass, anything else I could think of that might have been handy - and stepped between two of the bare stems and into the trees.

It was immediately much darker, but the noon sun found its way in through cracks and crevices in the foliage, and I didn’t have to squint too hard. I knew Marianne had thrown two petals in here. The trick was finding them- if they were still around to find. I crawled on hands and knees, worming my way between two mushrooms twice my size, until I saw it. A petal, the size of my torso, crumpled into a ball, tucked halfway under a root. I lunged for it, and when I had scooped it up I unfurled it and checked for damage. It was perfect.

I squealed - no, no I didn’t, I laughed, masculinely - and I tucked the petal into my backpack. A few more minutes of searching and I found the other, similarly undamaged. Good. One petal for each of our potions. I was a genius for thinking this up - Roland didn’t know how lucky he was, having a strategist like me on his team.

Speaking of strategy, I’d done some research.

I’d wanted information after our first scare with the primroses. The nurses brought me a copy of the treaty Marianne had talked about, but it was all legalese and didn’t tell me anything worthwhile. But the nurses, once they realized what I was reading, had plenty to say.

Mirabelle Comfit used to work at the palace as the head alchemist and potions distributor, which apparently meant she worked closely with the medical center - every nurse old enough to recognize the name had a story to tell. 

She was well liked. Clever. A bright light of a woman with a bright future ahead of her.

But then she started using primrose petals as a power source for some of her more dubious experiments. They’d been a controlled substance even then, but who would have had access if not the head alchemist?

She started hoarding them, experimenting with what potions she could make, how concentrated she could make them. Pushing the limits of her craft. The nurses said she had so many bottles, she must have been doing that for years. 

But that wasn’t what got her caught. 

No, she only got caught once she decided that she needed to test them. And without suitable test groups, she decided to unleash them on the citizenry.

Fairies started acting erratically, burning their homes, leaving their spouses. And those poor souls would be taken to the experts at the palace medical center. There Mirabelle Comfit tried to ‘cure’ them, all while gathering her data.

It had been a disaster when she was discovered, apparently. One second the medical staff was caring for a new influx of patients, the next second the palace guard was storming the medical center, the next second the head alchemist was screaming and swinging a scalpel as she chucked mystery bottles at anyone in sight.

Despite being surrounded by soldiers, Mirabelle Comfit escaped the palace and fled over the border. She left behind dozens of books full of detailed notes - the nurses disagreed on whether King Dagda had had the notes locked away or burned.

Mirabelle Comfit never faced punishment for what she’d done to the citizens of the Fairy Kingdom. No, she faced punishment for what she’d done to the king of the Dark Forest. According to the Bog King, or at least according to the emissary that he’d sent for negotiations, she’d fled into his kingdom and unleashed one of her modified potions onto the royal family.

Beside control over the primroses, Mirabelle Comfit was the next biggest element in the peace between our Kingdom and the Dark Forest. To appease the Bog King, Mirabelle Comfit was going to spend the rest of her life in a Dark Forest prison. 

He said he wanted to make an example out of her. 

At that, one of the head nurses told the others to stop telling me horror stories or I’d never get the rest I needed to recover. Not that I really needed rest or recovery.

But the Bog King. There was a real nightmare.

He had complete control of all the monsters in the Dark Forest, and they were all afraid of him. He took on Mirabelle Comfit and won. No one in the Fairy Kingdom had ever seen him and lived to talk about it - even when dealing with the Fairy Kingdom in his official capacity, he only ever sent emissaries, which suited King Dagda just fine.

He was the one I needed to look out for.

I’d tried to do some research on the Dark Forest before I’d left, but the nurses didn't have any ideas about that, and I couldn’t find very much in the palace library. According to our own emissaries, the Bog King lived in a castle dug out from the trunk of a massive oak tree. I’d only have to travel east to find it; or at least, those were the most detailed instructions I had. There weren’t any maps of the Dark Forest available in the Fairy Kingdom. I’d known relations were bad - I was glad relations were bad with a pack of monsters. But I hadn’t realized how hard that would make it to get information I needed. 

The thought of our poor relations hung on me for a moment.  Hadn’t Marianne said something about primrose smuggling being seen as grounds for war?

I thought about turning back, when I remembered what I’d said. 

I would do anything for Dawn.

There was a whisper behind me, and I whipped around. Nothing there. Just the mushrooms. I looked again. There were a lot of mushrooms. But wait, that was fine, that was how Marianne had gotten us out before. Nothing suspicious. I was fine. 

I plowed on ahead, moving along stable roots and staying low, trusting that I would find the castle if I just stayed east. I occasionally heard things - creatures rumbling through the shadows, speaking to each other in their weird, guttural voices. I stayed low and quiet, and sure enough, I evaded notice.

Something poked me in the back. 

I screamed - no, no I didn’t, I shouted, like a man who hadn’t been scared at all and had definitely been prepared for anything - and whipped around. 

A creature crouched behind me. It was shorter than me, which was surprising, as hardly any living things beside insects were shorter than me. This was a mammal of some sort, with ears the size of its head, and a sharp, pointed face. Its fur was all white, which seemed odd for a place like the Dark Forest, but its thin, agile tail had no fur at all. 

It cocked its head at me. I looked at it, but it just sat there watching me. After a few tense moments I turned back around. I felt it touch my back again, but this time it didn’t poke me; it grabbed at my backpack. 

“Hey!” I yelled as I grabbed at it, but the thing had already gone into my bag and snatched one of the petals. It bounded away into the high branches. “Wait!” I yelled. “I need that!”

It stopped and turned around. It’s eyes were almost pure black, and they were fixed on me. It was actually waiting for me- could it understand what I was saying?

“I need that back,” I said slowly, as I raised my hands up in front of me, non-threateningly. “I’m on a mission. I need to find Mirabelle Comfit, and I need that to make a Love Potion.”

The thing’s ears shot straight up, and it leapt backwards off the branch and scampered into the darkness beyond.

Oh. Oh wait. That was a crime. I smacked my forehead. Shoot. I shouldn’t have admitted that to the first strange creature I saw. I’d have to work quickly, before that thing came back with guards or monsters or whatever it was going to come back with.

I started off in the direction I’d been heading, but the creature bounded back out of the darkness toward me. It stopped and beckoned.

“You want me to follow you?” I asked. Maybe it was a criminal creature that was okay with crimes? It squeaked, nodded, and left again into the darkness, more slowly this time.

I gave chase.

The creature leapt between branches and vines, skittering between wide and small gaps alike as if it had been built for it. I wasn’t as agile as this thing was - I doubted it was physically possible for me to reach that level of skill - but I was fast. I pulled myself up onto lower branches, leaping and catching onto vines only a few seconds behind it.

We moved like that for a half hour or more. My practice with Dawn had prepared me all too well for chasing an agile target above my head, but as we pressed on I began to wear out. It finally stopped short before a fallen, rotting log. The log’s interior was hollow and had enough space to walk through, but there was no reason to go through it. The other end hung over a sheer cliff, off the stable earth and over a massive gorge. A straight drop down. Fog covered the bottom of the gorge completely. 

I looked at the creature, but it didn’t look back at me. Instead, it ran down through the center of the empty log, and flung itself out the other side, and plummeted into the fog below.

“Hey!” I yelled, and ran down the length of the log. I don’t know what I thought I’d do, but that didn’t matter in the moment. I peered down into the fog.

There was nothing. Nothing but empty white - not even an imprint of where the thing had fallen through.

“Little buddy?” I yelled down. I got on my knees and carefully stuck my head over the side. Maybe he was clinging to the underside of the log? Maybe there was a secret ladder?

From far below me, there was an impatient squeak.

I considered flinging myself off the log, as the thing had done. So far it hadn’t taken me through any path I couldn’t handle. But instinct won out, and I didn’t have the nerve to throw myself out into a featureless abyss.

I took the rope out of my backpack, secured it to an uneven jut of wood at the bottom of the log, and lowered myself down.

Only a short distance lower I could barely see my hands in front of my face. I inched further down. It was slow going, but the animal squeaked occasionally and I could hear it getting louder. 

Oddly, the fog began to clear as I got lower. As I approached the end of the rope, I could see the roots of a dying tree below me. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see the trunk. The creature danced on one of the larger roots, waving its arms to get my attention. Below was a steady flow of water, wide enough that it looked like a river.

If I had leapt off, I probably would have survived, but it would not have been a comfortable landing. 

I touched down next to the creature and wrapped the loose end of the rope around a smaller root so I could find it again. The creature looked at me, checked to see that I was ready to keep going, and took off again. But didn't go very far. A short distance away, it gestured to a small circular opening in a cluster of roots.

“Is she in there?” I asked. It nodded, and then climbed inside and wriggled forward. 

I wasn’t sure I would fit, but I followed suit. It was a tight squeeze at first, but the tunnel opened up quickly. And then sloped downward.

I managed not to scream as I slid into the darkness, but it took effort. Eventually the tunnel gave way entirely, and I crashed through something feeble before I thudded onto flat stone. 

I needed to stop falling in the Dark Forest. That was my spring resolution. No more Dark Forest falls.

I looked around and tried to get my bearings.

The room I had fallen into was massive, with high ceilings and no visible exits. Massive, empty cages hung from the ceiling, covered in metal spikes. 

This was a Dark Forest prison. We were close.

 The creature was nearby, waving me over to a hatch in the floor. Gentle white light glowed out of it, and I scrambled over as fast as I could. The creature opened the hatch, and I looked down.

It took me several moments to understand what I was seeing.

A glowing white orb seemed to float in the room below us like a distant planet, massive and glowing white. For long seconds I couldn’t comprehend it. How could they have fit such a massive thing into this space? How long would I have to fall to reach it?

Then creature shoved past me and into the room. It stood, below the- well. It wasn’t a planet. With the creature crouched next to it, it was obviously much smaller than I’d anticipated, and much closer. 

I lowered myself into the room, embarrassed by my complete misunderstanding of scale. It was barely a drop from the ceiling before my feet hit the floor. Now closer, I looked at the glowing orb again.

It was a spider web, constructed in a perfect sphere, suspended on several small branches leading onto a central thick spiral stem. It wasn’t too hard to imagine this as some arcanist’s staff, though it might’ve been a little unbalanced to wield it like one. As I looked closer, something inside it moved.

I flinched backward, but the creature beside me looked delighted.

“Imp!” came a voice from the orb. It was the strangest voice I had ever heard - not unappealing, necessarily, but there was a warbling quality to it, and I couldn’t think of what its owner was doing with their throat to make it sound like that. “Imp, come here, let mommy see you!”

The creature, Imp, leapt forward and held itself up against the central trunk, notably avoiding the web. 

“What have you brought me, darling?” Imp waved my primrose petal in front of the orb - wait, I hadn’t gotten that back? The voice squealed in delight, and something zipped around inside the orb.

“Wait, that’s mine!” I yelled, and ran forward.

“Oh? Imp, who’s this? What have you brought me?”

Imp made a series of gestures - gesturing a tear drop shape, smacking a paw over its eyes, stumbling around, and finally forming a heart with its tail. 

“I see. You want a Love Potion?” the orb asked.

I was close enough now to see inside it. The orb, maybe as big as my head, contained a tiny woman the size of one of my fingers. Her skin was a powdery, near translucent blue and she sparkled like stars burned throughout her.

“How did you- What are you-”

“I’m Mirabelle Comfit, this is my familiar, Imp, that’s a primrose petal, and with a face like yours you’re not getting a girlfriend any other way. Basic logic.”

Imp, the little creature, squeaked out a hideous little laugh.

“ You’re Mirabelle Comfit?” I asked. “Why do you… look like that? I thought you were a fairy? Marianne said you used to work at the castle.”

“ Marianne? ” she asked, as she leaned in, interested. “So this is a royal affair? You know, King Dagda may be a fair ruler, but I doubt he’d consent to marrying off his crown princess to someone like you , if you quite catch my meaning.”

“That’s not- I’m not in love with Marianne!” 

“Then why are you here ?”

She looked at me with her half-translucent, sparkling eyes. She was beautiful, but she was beautiful like a falling star, not like a person. More than anything else, Mirabelle Comfit was eerie.

“Why do you look like that?” I asked again.

She tittered and rolled her eyes. “I was trying to make a Universal Beauty Potion,” she said. “Everyone who looked at me would think I was the most beautiful person they’d ever seen, informed by their own aesthetic standards. Needless to say it backfired. Though, I still think I look fairly fetching, don’t you?” She drifted upward, toward the barrier of the web. I could see her even more clearly now, and every new detail about her appearance was distressing. Her hair drifted upward, but it didn’t move like hair, it moved like the rest of her starry flesh. She wore no clothes, but a tall dark crown melded to her brow. Worst of all, her legs no longer moved separately and were fused together into a single fleshy point, like some hideous celestial snake. She placed her fingers against the web, her long, pointed fingers, and looked at me. Her eyes were open too wide to look beautiful now, despite the stars inside them, and one eye twitched as she spoke.

“Don’t ignore me.”

I broke into a sweat. It wasn’t a threat, technically, but it scared me anyway. “I’m not ignoring you!” 

“ Tell me why you’re here. ”

“I want a Love Potion! No, sorry, two Love Potions!”

She blinked, confused by my answer. “Why would you want two ?” she asked. “Are you selling them? Because unless you have buyers lined up let me assure you-”

“No,” I interrupted. “I want one because I’m in love with Dawn, but she’s not in love with me, which is kinda crazy actually, because we spend so much time together and I do so much for her , and I want the other for my friend Roland, who’s in love with Marianne.”

She smirked. “So it is a royal affair. What are you offering?”

That stopped me flat.

“Offering?” I asked.

“Offering,” she repeated. “As payment.”

“I didn’t…” I dug through my backpack, pulling up everything I had. A compass, rations, a bedroll, the other primrose petal. I didn’t have anything I could give her. “I only brought the primrose petals for the potions, I didn’t think-”

“ Petals? ” she asked, wide eyes lunging forward again. “Petals plural? ”

“Only two,” I said. “For the two Love Potions.”

She snorted. “You don’t need two Love Potions. One potion has about five thousand uses. Unless you have plans for a harem the size of a continent, you and your friend should be just fine.”

“I’m sorry, it has what ?”

“Five thousand uses per bottle." She waved her hand dismissively. "That’s not important. What is important is payment.” She steepled her fingers and looked at me with empty, glittering eyes. “You give me one petal to make the potion, and one petal as payment. My darling Imp leads you back to border safe and sound, and you live happily ever after with your lady love. Though...” she paused, and looked up at me through thoughtful eyes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a Luck Potion? Love Potions can have unforeseen consequences. ”

My head reeled.

“I’m sorry, could you back over the number of uses? I’m kinda stuck on that.”

“Five thousand,” she said quickly. “Primrose petals are very powerful, and diluting something like that down to make a single use potion is beyond any magical technology available. Yet. I had a few blueprints I was working on before that fateful day. ”

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine. I give you the petals, you give me the potion, Imp takes me home. Right? That’s the deal?”

“That’s the deal.”

“Okay. How do I get rid of the potion when I’m done with it?”

She laughed, a dizzying sound like a comet through wind chimes. “Why would you want to?” she asked. “What if you fall in love with someone else?”

“I wouldn’t! Dawn’s the only one for me!”

“Oh? Well then, what if someone else uses a Love Potion on Dawn and you need to fix her?”

I- well, I hadn’t considered that. Roland wouldn’t do that to Dawn - not when he had Marianne - but who knew what other creeps were lurking, waiting for a chance to force my poor sweet Dawn to love them? I couldn’t let that happen. I’d have to keep the Love Potion on hand. To protect her.

“All right, I see your point,” I said.

“Plus! You can use it on your enemies! Make them fall in love with something hideous! Or make them watch as their spouse falls for someone else! Or make them fall in love with someone they can never have and watch as their life falls apart!” Mirabelle Comfit gave a hideous giggle and zipped around her orb. “I used to love doing that! Before I got locked up, on that fateful day…”

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, then realized what I’d said and clapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

She fixed cold eyes on me with a flat expression.“Oh no, it’s fine . I can tell you’re really nice , as a general rule. That little outburst was the exception. That’s the whole reason you’re here, isn't it?" She gave me a wicked smile with too many teeth. "Because of how nice you are.”

“I am nice!”

“I’m sure. Do we have a deal or not?”

I looked into her dark eyes, and down at Imp, who nodded emphatically. “Fine,” I said.

“Deal!” she squeaked with delight and held a hand out expectantly. “The petals.”

I pointed at the spider web orb and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s fine. You can reach in, I can’t reach out. Otherwise I’d never get any food in here.”

That made sense. I took the crumpled petal from Imp, and the other from the floor next to my pack where I’d lain everything out, and I reached through the webbing.

It didn’t feel like anything, but the sight was terrifying. My hand simply ended at the wrist, and inside the orb a tiny hand holding two tiny petals appeared on the near wall. I almost screamed and yanked my hand back out, but Mirabelle Comfit reached forward and snatched the petals out of my hand before I could. 

“Perfect! I’ll have your potion ready in two minutes, just you wait. Oh! Wait wait wait! Do you have any requests?”

“Requests?”

“Anything you want your lover to do. Sing, fawn over you, cook for you. You’re forcing her to love you anyway, you may as well get what you can out of it.”

“That’s horrible . You can do that?”

“Of course!” She chirped as she flew a double loop-de-loop. She was a bit like Dawn in her excitability - no, no, no, that was the worst thought anyone ever had, unthink that, unthink that . 

“Near the end I was able to make one that would make your lovers kill for you. Ah, those were the times.”

“No, god, no, I don’t want anything like that. I just want Dawn to love me however she would normally.”

Mirabelle Comfit fake gagged and crossed her arms. “You come all this way and you won’t even give me something interesting to work with. What’s the point of even making a potion if I can’t push boundaries a little bit? If I can’t make something new out of it?”

“Look,” I said, close to losing patience, “do whatever you want with your own petal, okay? All I want is a simple love potion. Please, just do that for me.”

She sniffed, but nodded. “Fine. If you don’t want any specifications then I’ll make it my own way. But if you come back here unsatisfied then I’m going to remind you that I offered and you turned it down. Now please look away, I’m going to begin.”

I turned my back and sat down next to Imp, but turned and looked out of the corner of my eye. It was hard to see from this angle and through the webbing, but I could see enough. One of the petals floated into the air, crystalized, then twisted into dust. The colour drained from it and swirled around, forming an oblong shell. The entire orb flashed orange, then purple, and suddenly it looked as if there were multiple of her - a half-dozen Mirabelle Comfits, falling and whirling in a buoyant sea of colour. 

The orb exploded. I screamed as I was launched forward onto my face by a near blinding light. She cackled behind me as the light abated.

“If you think making the potion is dangerous… wait ‘til you use it.” The words implied a warning, but her tone implied something very different, as if she might have been drooling as she said it. Lust. Desperate enthusiasm. Unhinged joy at the thought of what might go wrong.

I wished she would finish faster so I could leave. Nothing in the world was more comforting to me right now than the knowledge that I when I returned to the Fairy Kingdom, Mirabelle Comfit would stay locked up right here. I might not have all the details, but there was no doubt in my mind that she needed to be kept away from the rest of civilization. 

“It’s done,” she said. “You can turn around now.”

I did. She was holding a vial, the shape and size of a teardrop. Dark violet tendrils wrapped around it, and soft pink light glowed out of its center. It was capped with a golden rosebud, moments from bloom. I don’t know what I had expected it to look like, but it was surprisingly pleasant to look at.

“Here are the rules,” she said. “Inside there’s a quantity of dust. Throw the dust into the eyes of the one you love, and they will fall madly, completely in love with the next living thing that they see. If they fall in love with the wrong person - I can’t understand how that would possibly happen but if - apply the dust again, make sure to stand in their line of sight properly, and-”

“Dust in her eyes, be the next thing she sees. Got it.”

“-and then kill any unfortunate witness,” she finished.

She ignored the look I gave her, and reached her arm out with the potion.

“You’ll have to reach in and get it,” she said. “I already told you, I can’t reach out.”

Right. I wasn’t looking forward to this. I reached my hand into the orb and tried not to flinch at the sight of my horrible, shrunken appendage. I couldn’t bear it, so I closed my eyes.

I felt, rather than saw, as she pushed the potion into my hand. 

“You’ll have to pull,” she said. “And put your strength into it. It’s harder to take things out of this prison than it is to put them in.”

The weight felt colossal. I braced my foot against the wooden stem holding up the orb, and pulled. Imp tugged on my back, and we strained against the pressure.

It came free. There was a feeling of release that… didn’t quite end when it was supposed to. The weight of the potion came free into my hand, but then kept going. It slid forward and pushed into my lap, knocking me back.

My hand was free. I had the potion. I opened my eyes, to see Mirabelle Comfit, larger than any fairy I’d ever seen, smiling down at me.

“Thank you, Sunny,” she said. “Consider your payment complete.”

Chapter Text

 “A message from the mushrooms, sire.”

I sat upright on my throne. Yesterday the mushrooms had reported that no petals had been taken by the mystery intruders, though my servants had predictably bungled the message. The primroses were almost completely wiped out, only a tiny patch left on the southern border needed clearing. But until they were eradicated I had to remain vigilant.

“Relay the message,” I said. The larger one, Stuff, a horned frog looking creature with ears like fans, spoke.

“A tall chef is into shark storage. Metal’s hissing.”

I sighed and walked past them without a word. Stuff ran forward to keep babbling, and I knocked her out of my way with the butt of my staff. She only came up to my ankles, but I’d still managed to trip over her more times than I could count.

“You know when you have a shark, but you don’t know where to put it? Well, there’s a chef here with the same problem-” she kept going even after I’d left the room. I shot across the bridge outside my castle and came to the last in the line of mushrooms.

“What is the message?” I asked. I remembered to keep my voice loud, though it was difficult to muster up the energy. I’d hardly slept over the last few days, constantly alert for any sign of a crisis.

The mushroom whispered.

“A small elf is in the Dark Forest. Petals missing.”

I let out a scream of frustration. I nearly brought the heavy end of my staff down on the mushroom’s head before I remembered that it was not one of my hardy, pain-loving attendants. I struck into the dirt beside it, and sped back into the castle. 

“Organize a team for a seek and destroy mission immediately!” I shouted into the empty air of my throne room. I didn’t worry about whether I would be heard. The dead wood of my old oak castle would amplify and spread the sound to anyone inside. Scuttles and skitters inside the wall answered me. My subjects were on the move. “There’s an elf with primrose petals in my forest! Find him! Rip them from his grasp! Make him regret crossing your King!” The walls, and the subjects inside them, clicked and buzzed their approval. 

“Brutus! Throg!” Two of my larger subjects, nearly up to my shoulders and made entirely of muscle, appeared at the entrance to the throne room. I loved these two, as much as I could love any of my subjects. They weren’t quite smart enough to cause me trouble, and their strength would frighten any creature with enough brain to feel fear. “Guard the high security prison. This elf cannot be allowed access to-”

There was a sound from below the castle, deep in the dungeonous roots. A sound that had haunted my nightmares for the past three years. A high pitched, heartless laugh, drawn out longer than any living being should have the air for. My breath came up short.

“She’s out,” I whispered. “He let her out.”

“Change of plan!” I screamed. “Secure the castle! No one in or out!” I clutched my staff tight, held it close to my body, and flew out of the throne room, down one of the smaller corridors, down a service staircase, down, down. My thin wings weren’t suited to distance, but this tight pursuit was what I was made for. I sped along narrower and narrower corridors, turned, dived, maneuvered without losing speed. 

There, in the central chamber of the dungeon, just above where she should have been, where she should have rotted for all time and a day, was Mirabelle Comfit.

She was more hideous than I remembered. Eyes too wide, like a tarsier leaping from the shadows. She was a predator in the dark, and she had pulled the night sky into herself as camouflage. Legs, hair, and skin were unnecessary and thus discarded. She grinned, a monster’s grin with too many teeth. 

“I’m out , Boggy,” she said. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

I looked at the room around me, desperate for some way to turn something to my advantage. Large iron cages hung various lengths from the ceiling - they wouldn’t hold her - and a large, curving staircase led down into the depths of the dungeon, where she hung in the air like a patient spider. 

I needed to be behind her. Grab the orb prison, trap her inside of it. She wanted to be behind me. Incapacitate any subjects who got in her way and escape. 

We were at an impasse.

“Comfit,” I said, projecting my voice enough that she could hear me, that the subjects in the walls could pick it up. “What have you done?”

“I got out , Boggy darling. Try to keep up with the conversation, I don’t like to repeat myself.”

“How?” I asked. The wall to my right whispered scratches, and the sounds shifted downward, following the path of the stairs.

“Some lovesick little elf boy pulled me out. I gave him a Love Potion for his efforts.”

“You what? ” Fury prompted me to charge her, but I forced myself still. I didn’t know what magic she was holding in, waiting to trap me with. I couldn’t give her the advantage so easily. I growled instead, and held my ground. “Comfit, so help me, I will see you suffer for this.”

She snorted. “How? Will you throw me in prison? Will you lock my cage in a bigger cage? If you had anything you could do to me you’d have done it by now. Speaking of which, would you kindly get out of my way? I’m trying to leave, see, and you’re blocking the door.”

I tried to understand her plan. What was she hiding? Comfit wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t have called my attention if she didn’t have a plan. What magic did she have stashed away? What ingredients could she find in this dungeon? Where was her horrible little familiar?

Neither of us moved an inch. Over the long seconds, there were no fireballs or waves of death.

If she had magic prepared, either it couldn’t be used on an expecting target, or she just couldn’t use it yet - maybe it would only affect the area around her? Or maybe it would hone in on my movement. Was it a bluff? Was she trying to get past me using my own fear as a tool?

I stared into her predator’s eyes and gripped my staff tighter.

She looked irritated. Like this was some fun game and I wasn’t playing along properly. Good. That was the only expression that was safe with Comfit. 

There was movement behind her. I kept my eyes trained on hers and looked only with my peripherals. 

One of my goblins, a tiny creature called Dreg, appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He had taken hold of the stem of the orb prison, and was slowly creeping up behind her. He’d be on her soon. I needed to keep her distracted.

“Where’s your hideous pet?” I asked. “There may not be anything I can do to you, but I have a few ideas for that little beast.”

Her smirk darkened into something more serious. “That’s a fun joke, Boggy Woggy, but if you harm my Imp then we both know I’d have to stop holding back.”

Dreg crept closer, sharp claws wrapped around the very bottom of the stem.

Just one more moment. 

“Are you worried about him?” I sneered at her. “Don’t worry. I’d make sure you were there to watch every last thing I did to him.”

Dreg lunged with the orb, and arced it down over her head. But as he stepped forward, a circle of orange light appeared on the ground around her. Crackles of orange energy shot up his legs, and Dreg seized up and screamed in pain. Comfit whirled around, but it was too late. The heavy orb cell, already on a path downward, only needed gravity to complete its purpose. The orb hit Comfit and with a shriek and a flash of white light, she vanished into it.

There was no time to celebrate.

Dreg collapsed inside the glowing orange glyph, and the orange energy now seared through his chest and face. As he screamed, the light became brighter.

I ran forward to push him out of the circle.

The orange light shifted white. The energy was audible now, an ear-piercing squeal even louder than Dreg’s screaming. 

The circle exploded.

I hit the stone steps behind me, all hard angles against my spine. The entire castle quaked and swayed. Fissures cracked along the walls, all from the ground up. Dreg, closest to the impact, was launched into a far wall, which splintered on impact. He thudded to the floor and didn’t move.

The circle glowed white for another moment, then faded without a trace. The castle creaked, but stopped shaking.

The only sounds left in the dungeon were Comfit and Dreg. The orb cell was unaffected by the explosion, and Comfit screamed and cursed as she pounded on the webbing walls. On the other side of the room, Dreg groaned in pain. 

I shuffled over to him as quickly as I could. 

He was bruised and dusty, but there were no scorch marks or signs of blood. Even so, his eyes were unfocused and he writhed against my grasp. Whatever this was, it wasn’t from the explosion.

I marched back, still aching from impact, and snatched the stem of the orb prison off the floor. I shook it hard, rattling the prisoner. “What have you done to him?”

“Ah! The- the explosion was just a bombast reaction, and that guy is- it’s a modification on a Waking Nightmare Potion! Stop shaking! I’ll talk!”

“I know you’ll talk. Of course you’ll talk. You can’t stop talking .” I shook harder. “I want you to answer my questions, and if you’re not answering I want you to keep your mouth shut. Am I clear?”

“You’re clear! You’re clear! Stop shaking!”

I stopped shaking. Inside the orb, Comfit oriented herself, then looked up at me, mercifully silent.

“Waking Nightmare Potion. How do I undo it?”

“You don’t. It wears off on its own after a few hours.”

I shook the orb again, hard.

“How dare you use a potion like that on one of my subjects?”

“It was supposed to get you ! It’s not my fault it hit that sap! I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but this is obviously not how my plan was supposed to go! ”

"What do you mean, your plan?"

She pressed herself against the web, hands clawed. "I was going to trap you in that circle, drain all of the energy out of your body, and use it to knock down this whole ugly castle. I'd leave you with just enough energy to survive, and your last moments would be nightmare visions as you suffocated in the rubble. That's what you deserve, Boggy Woggy." She flung herself back from the glass and tried to pull out her hair in frustration. "But then that weakling idiot ruined everything! He didn't even have enough energy to destroy this room!"

I tried not to show it as my breath caught in my chest. That would fuel my nightmares for the next few years. 

I tucked it away. I had time to be afraid later, there were more important things right now.

“Where did you get the materials?”

She stopped what she was doing, half so she could look at me like I was an idiot, half because she'd realized that she didn't have any hair to pull. “Imp brought them! Where else would I get anything?”

“Don’t lie to me!” I shook the orb cell again. “I know you wouldn’t risk your little pet getting trapped. How did you get the materials?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, silent and smiling with her predator teeth.

“Boggy woggy, you didn’t think I just got out, did you? I’ve been out for a while now. Hours. Plenty of time for my baby to get me what I needed.”

I took a moment to process, then laughed in her face. “You’ve been out for hours planning your little escape, and I caught you immediately? I thought you were supposed to be competent.”

She said nothing, but gave me a look of pure, impotent rage. 

I stood upright. “Medic!” I called into the empty room. My subjects skittered. Slower than usual. The walls must not have been good protection against the blast. A moment later two little heads peeked up from the bottom of the staircase.

“Dreg got hit. Find him a soft place to rest for a few hours. He may thrash. Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

The two nodded and rushed forward to collect their fallen comrade. 

“And tell him he’s getting a hero’s feast when he wakes up!”

One of the medics chirped a confirmation. I turned back to Comfit.

“Where’s the Love Potion?”

Comfit smiled wickedly. “The elf has it. And with all the time I gave him, he’s probably back in the Fairy Kingdom by now. You’ll never find him.”

I shouted out my frustration and shook the orb prison as hard as I could.

This was the worst-case scenario. A Love Potion, unleashed on an unsuspecting populace.

I stopped shaking, and waited until Comfit’s eyes uncrossed. “Why did you give it to him? What were you trying to achieve?”

She shook away the dizziness. “I thought it would be fun, obviously.”

That tracked. If there was one consistency for Comfit, it was doing destructive things for the entertainment value alone. 

But if that was true, something didn’t add up. A lot of things didn’t add up. Comfit had said the elf was ‘some love-sick boy,’ but that wasn’t her style. It wasn’t chaotic enough. Maybe she’d give a potion to someone like that, but she wouldn’t wait in a cell for hours to make sure he got away. More importantly, no normal elf would break into the Dark Forest’s highest security prison over a crush. 

“Who was the elf?” 

She shrugged. “I think his name was ‘Sunshine’ or something? Not anyone I’d ever heard of.”

“Is he involved with organized crime? What connections does he have?”

“I didn’t ask. He seemed perfectly normal to me.”

Perfectly normal. Comfit thought he was perfectly normal . For all I knew he levitated in, speaking in tongues and soaked in blood.

I moved on.

“Why did he want a Love Potion? Is he some chaos-fiend like you? Or was he looking for a profit?”

She smiled. “I already told you. He’s in love. He just wants to use the potion on a very specific person, that’s all.”

There. I was on to something.

“Who was his target?”

Comfit beamed , a manic expression that only came when she was contemplating mass chaos. Whoever it was, I had to stop this. 

“Who’s the target?” I demanded. 

She giggled, and pressed herself up against the web. “What will you give me if I tell you?”

“If you don’t tell me, I will have goblins take shifts shaking this damned orb for the next year . They’ll line up for the privilege. Tell me. ”

She pouted, but after a long moment of consideration realized that I was serious. “There’s two targets.”

“Two?” I blurted, too shocked to maintain composure. What kind of monster was I dealing with?

“ Both princesses.”

Both… I reeled. My knees nearly gave out under me.

Two princesses. Was this elf planning a coup? Elves had been subjugated under fairy rule for years, but even I had never considered that a Love Potion could be used for a revolution. 

This elf… Sunshine, or whatever his name was, had broken the laws of the peace treaty between my Forest and the Fairy Kingdom. I would be well within my rights to bring an army and demand that the king surrender the horrid little creature to me. But, if he was some kind of anti-fairy revolutionary, the Fairy Kingdom would probably want him gone and dealt with just as much as I did. They wouldn’t be able to release him into my custody. 

I weighed my options. The immediate priority would be isolating the royal family, making sure that they couldn’t be coerced into loving anyone against their political interests. If I could send my fastest messenger and tell the royal family to barricade themselves in the palace…

That wouldn’t work. If this elf had a plan to get to both of the princesses, then he must have connections inside the palace, or access to some secret entrance. Maybe he worked for them directly.

There was nothing for it. It would hurt relations, but I’d have to shelter them here, whether or not they would come willingly. Another generation of closed borders with the Fairy Kingdom would be better than a neighboring elf tyrant with a Love Potion at his disposal.

I looked down at Comfit. I almost asked why she would give a potion to someone so clearly dangerous and unstable, but that question answered itself. 

“So?” she asked. “What do I get for this incredibly useful information?”

I ignored her, and put the orb back into its narrow space in the hatch below the floor.

“Hey! Boggy! Don’t ignore me! What do I get?”

I lowered the hatch, locked it, and flew upstairs to my throne room. 

“Bog! Don’t ignore me! Don’t you dare ignore me!” Comfit screamed, but her voice faded quickly as I put distance between us. I had a royal kidnapping to arrange. 

Chapter Text

I was able to convince Marianne to come with me to the Elf Festival, but only by pleading and begging and giving her my best dewey-pleading-begging-eyes and threatening to eat an elf-sized portion of cotton candy.

That is, for the record, not a serving of cotton candy suitable for elven proportions, but rather a serving of cotton candy roughly the size of an elf, which I had attempted to eat once before, only to be stopped halfway through when I had gotten a horrible stomach-ache and poor Marianne was forced to nurse me back to health. I assured her that I would manage to eat it in its entirety this year unless she was there to stop me, and that did the trick.

My motivations were selfish, of course. What fun would the Elf Festival be with Sunny incapacitated and my darling older sister in a miserable, loveless slump? But, I reasoned, if anything could get anyone out of a miserable, loveless slump, it would be an Elf Festival, and of course my charming company.

We arrived together with Daddy, though he and Marianne were hardly on speaking terms at the moment, and I sided with Marianne, because it wasn’t fair at all to expect her to be civil and responsible, and deal with Horrible Roland, and more importantly to deal with me. 

Standing together more-or-less as a family, we made a very good show of royal support. Elves pointed at us and whispered among themselves - not the mean sort of disapproving whispers that Marianne always got in a tizzy about, but the nice kind when somebody is very excited to see someone and can’t help but admire what they’re wearing. I could tell the difference, having been the subject of the latter any number of times in my life and the former hardly ever.

I missed Sunny. I hoped he would get better soon. The elves would treat me much more casually when I was with him, as a friend of Sunny’s first and a princess second. Being a princess obviously had its perks, but to place it above Sunny’s friendship was impossible. Never mind that every ball I could ever want to attend was thrown in my own front room, without Sunny I couldn’t enjoy any of them.

I had gone to visit him this morning, hoping he’d improved enough to enjoy the festival with me, only to find that Roland occupied the medical center alone. He said that Sunny had been discharged earlier, but I couldn’t believe that. If Sunny had been discharged, he would have come to see me! I couldn’t understand the mechanism behind it, but I was certain that Roland had lied him away somehow. Was that possible? To lie so hard a person vanished right out of existence? Regardless, I hoped Sunny would vanish right back into existence in the very near future, or I wouldn’t get to casually banter with any of the stall vendors this year.

The ferris wheel turned slowly, and in the central stage area a band of elven performers sang folk songs, and line dancers stepped in time in the dancing area in front of the stage. I tugged Marianne along by one of her unfashionable arm guards, which she always wore for some reason, as if wearing a sword in public didn’t sufficiently convey that yes, she works out , and yes, with swords and yes, you should be scared of how cool and strong she is . She followed where I tugged her, and it warmed my heart. We both knew I couldn’t force her to do anything, and the fact that she so regularly jumped to do my bidding anyway made me love her all the more. I pointed at the line dancers, and she gave me a flat look.

“No.”

Ah, so much for jumping to do my bidding.

“Marianne~ ” I pouted, and stamped my foot. “I can’t dance with Sunny because he’s not here, and Daddy will get mad if I dance with a guard, and you’ll get mad if I dance with Daddy , and I don’t want to dance with a stranger, so you have to .”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s the law,” I said gravely.

She rolled her eyes and pulled me into line with her. 

I had heard any number of times, from the hoards of people that watched our lives, that I was the cute one and Marianne the competent one. There was no denying her competence, or even my lack of it, but I couldn’t understand anyone who couldn’t understand how adorable Marianne was. She used to dress much more cutely, sure, and we shared dresses and makeup and put flowers in each others’ hair, but the kind of cuteness she had grown into was much more genuine and endearing. Her insistence on grumbling and pouting when I forced her to have fun was cute enough, but it was only amplified by her inevitable unstated insistence that she had agreed for her own reasons that had nothing to do with you, Dawn, and I just felt like line dancing, honestly . To watch Marianne was to understand the inherent cuteness of a cactus asking for cuddles. She could wrench a ‘D’awwww’ from even the most cold-hearted of criminals, and anyone who couldn’t see that deserved to be locked up themselves.

The dance started.

We stepped in time and twirled together. We towered over the rest of the dancers, which was unfortunate but of course unavoidable. Marianne’s glum demeanor showed in her dancing and drew even more attention than her height. She barely lifted her arms above her hips, and though she twirled and stepped on cue, it took her longer to fully rotate than it should have.

If Marianne - Marianne! Who would practice swordplay for twelve hours and fly laps another six! - found herself incapable of dancing, then her slump was much more serious than I had realized. 

Down the line, another unmistakably tall, fairy figure entered the dance. Roland! Horrible Roland, the cad! I knew his plan at once. He was going to dance down the line until he and Marianne were forced, through the gentle, entropic nature of line dancing, to dance together. Luckily, I had a cunning plan that he would never foresee.

“Hey Marianne, Roland’s here. Go get me some cotton candy so you can avoid him.”

Marianne’s face went white, but quickly reverted to the flat look that was usually reserved for shenanigans. She didn’t argue and flew away to get me my cotton candy. Or, at least, that’s what I hoped she was doing.

Before Roland had the opportunity to realize the cunning and intricate nature of my deception, I intercepted him. I stepped out of line, floated over to his current partner, and asked if I might cut in. The poor elf lady seemed very confused - was my interruption considered poor form in line dancing? Who could keep track of things like that? - but agreed and stepped away. 

Roland looked rather bewildered. I kept my self-congratulatory chuckling internal, but only through a great force of will. 

“Roland,” I said, smugly.

“You’re not Marianne,” he said loudly, and looked around himself, as if she might sneak up behind him.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” I continued. I ignored his chicanery and twirled to the beat.

Roland missed his designated twirl. “Wow! You’re not Marianne! If someone was expecting you to be Marianne and about to deploy the next step in a multi-step operation based on that information, they should not do that! Because you’re not Marianne! ” He spoke very loudly, which was odd because he didn’t even look at me as he said it but instead whipped his head back and forth as if speaking to some invisible, fast-moving target. Or, perhaps, anyone who would listen.

“Those are all worthy points,” I shouted. I made sure to match his volume - Daddy had told me once that if someone spoke loudly that they may be hard of hearing and I should follow suit. “But they aren’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“That’s nice, Not-Marianne! We should talk about this somewhere else, where nobody can get confused about who you are! ”

“I think you should give up on Marianne!” I shouted as I step-double-stepped. “She’s very upset because of the things you did, and the way you treated her, and the sort of person you are!”

All at once, several things happened, all completely unrelated and in quick succession. Roland stepped to the side and behind him was Sunny. Sunny! He was holding something that was glowing purple, or at least that’s what it looked like, as it was immediately obscured by sparkling purple dust that emanated from the tip of the object. Sunny looked horrified and leapt forward, one arm raised, but I couldn’t see what he intended to reach for. For me? For Roland? Before the answer had made itself evident the dust struck me in the face - stung like anything, I dare say - and while my vision was obscured and I tried to wipe the stinging dust from my eyes, something struck me from behind, knocked me forward, a gentle breeze brushed my hair, and sound was immediately muffled. 

I opened my eyes, but everything was, well, not quite pitch black, for if everything was pitch black then pitch would have very little intrinsic value as a descriptor of darkness, but certainly much darker than anything had any right to be. I reached out in front of me, and my hand brushed rough fabric. I, or rather, the fabric surrounding me, was dragged along the floor. As the cloth was pulled before me, rough hands pushed me from behind.

“Am I in an Oversized Kidnapping Sack right now?” I demanded. I kicked backwards toward the pushing hands. I didn’t connect with anything, and got a rough shove for my efforts.

“Release my sister!” came Marianne’s voice. Oh good. I hoped she’d remembered my cotton candy. I heard the metal schwing of a sword being drawn, and then her scream, and a loud thud, which didn’t make any sort of sense. Her scream hadn’t sounded like her usual ‘I’m going to unleash bloody retribution on my enemies ’ scream, it had sounded like her ‘ I was just minding my own business when my very cute and darling younger sister unexpectedly hugged me from behind too forcefully and knocked me on my face ’ scream. I could tell the difference. I had heard both many times. But the thud that followed must have meant that she had knocked someone down, as Marianne was far too good to ever be knocked down herself. Except by me, her very cute and darling younger sister.

There was a good deal of screaming from the various assembled elves, and Daddy was yelling something to his guards, all of which still made sense if Marianne was inflicting violence on whoever had stuffed me into this Oversized Kidnapping Sack. I hoped Daddy would remember to take me out of the sack before he lectured Marianne for fighting. 

“Our treaty has been broken,” came a new voice. It was a man’s voice, creepy, like bugs’ legs twitching into the air, and entirely too close comfort. “I will take back what I am owed.”

Sunny screamed, but his voice was quickly muffled. “Sunny!” I yelled, but someone shoved my sack again, so instead of yelling I waited quietly for Marianne to fix it.

“Where is the Potion?” asked the nightmare voice, and it was notable that he somehow said the capital letter. It was obvious to anyone listening, even those who had no idea what was happening or why, such as myself, as was often the case, that this mystery voice did not refer to a potion, nor even that potion, but rather The Potion , which was a remarkable bit of vocal control for a voice so deeply unpleasant in every other conceivable way.

“I don’t have it!” said Sunny, and he grunted, and I worried but said nothing. “The imp took it! I don’t have it!”

“Potion?” asked Marianne, who didn’t sound nearly out of breath enough for the intense sword-work I had expected her to be doing. “Sunny, what were you thinking ? How could you? Dawn-”

“Hello!” I said, and waved an arm up against the sack, and got shoved again.

“We trusted you!” shouted Marianne, which confused me, as I wasn’t sure who we had trusted, or who it was now that we weren’t supposed to trust and why, but I figured she would explain it to me later. 

“It’s not like that!” yelled Sunny. “I didn’t- I wouldn’t- I thought she was you!”

“Enough!” said the new voice, and there was a thwack on the ground next to me as if it had been struck very hard. “Take the prisoners back to the dungeons. We have a familiar to hunt.”

Marianne screamed again, but this time it was her bloody retribution scream, and there was a thud of flesh hitting flesh and a gasp from those watching. The voice laughed - a horrible, crawly sound. 

“Fine then,” it said. “Decline my offer. But don’t come crawling to me when you realize how much danger you’re in.” 

The nightmare voice shouted, one horrible blast of sound. The floor next to me got thwacked again, and suddenly the ground fell away as, I can only assume, my Oversized Kidnapping Sack was hoisted into the sky.

“Dawn!” Marianne screamed, but the sound was now coming from below me. “Dawn!”

“I’m okay!” I yelled, and I wasn’t shoved this time, so I continued. “Come get me soon! Save me some cotton candy!”

There was no indication that she’d heard me. Soon the only sounds were the buzz of the creatures hauling me away, and the wind as it rushed by.

My sack didn’t have a suitably high thread count, and blasts of cold night air whistled in through tiny gaps in the fabric and chilled me very badly. I was dressed only in my formal white spring dress, which was suitable for spring, of course, but not for night flying, and I thought it awfully poor form of my captors not to have provided some sort of blanket or jacket or something.

“Dawn?” It was Sunny’s voice, muffled but clearly yelling.

“Sunny! You’re here too!” I was thrilled to hear his voice. On the one hand, it was unfortunate that he was trapped in this situation with me. On the other, more selfish hand, I was glad I didn’t have to go through this alone. On the third, mutant hand, Sunny’s presence was standard for Marianne’s Shenanigan Rescue Protocol, which meant she would probably come flying in to save us at any moment.

“I’m so sorry!” he said. I had to strain to hear him, and I suspected he must also be in a personal Kidnapping Sack. Though, being an elf, his wouldn’t need to be so gratuitously oversized as mine. “I’m so sorry! This is all my fault!”

“Don’t be silly,” I yelled. “Even if you weren’t here, I’d have gotten kidnapped anyway. Or nearly eaten, or arrested, or some other thing, you know how this goes.”

“No, listen, that’s not what I-” his voice grew fainter, as I could only assume he was being carried farther away.

“Sunny?” I called, but there was no response.

It stayed like that for a dreadfully long time, though I couldn’t tell the time of night through the little pinprick holes in the Oversized Kidnapping Sack. At first the journey was a straight flight, but after a long while there were dips and dives and sharp turns that sent my sack reeling from side to side. I hugged my knees up to my chest and chattered my teeth, but there was no relief from the cold. 

Our flight slowed, and we descended. We flew in a straight line very low to the ground, and finally they dropped my sack onto hard, flat, cold stone. 

Steps shifted around me, as if a great many creatures were shuffling up to surround me.

“I want to rip her wings off,” hissed one.

“I want the wishbone,” said another. 

Those were spooky things to hear, naturally. But I wasn’t too concerned. Daddy had told me that if I was ever taken prisoner, my captors would say many scary things but do very few of them, because I was ‘of political importance’ and ‘would be more useful for ransom’ and would be returned home relatively unharmed as long as I wasn’t too annoying and cooperated with my captors whenever possible. Instead of panicking, I waited very patiently for them to tell me to do something so that I could be cooperative. Or at least, until Marianne came to fetch me.

“No eating.” It was the horrible voice from before. Steps shifted away from me as the creatures backed off. “Brutus ,” came the voice again, and one more heavy set of footsteps backed away as well.

The top of the sack opened and was pulled down around me. I stood up, rubbed my eyes against the light, and I saw him.

For the first time in my life, I understood perfectly.

He was the tallest man I’d ever seen, with skin like beautiful tree bark, and long thin limbs. I had never understood before now why some women cared so much about height, but I knew now. Height! Surely it was the most important feature any man could have, and I knew that because this man had it. I wished I could see him stand, to admire him in full effect. He sat, instead, on a throne of dried bones, and looked the very definition of power and poise. His face was thin and pointed, and his nose hooked down like the thorn of a rose. A thorn! How sad that I had never considered thorns beautiful before this moment! Thorns were brave defenders of beautiful things! His wings were flared out behind him, arranged over the arms of his throne. He had four wings, four, oh how exquisite, and they were completely clear. 

I had always loved my own wings. I’d been praised for their beauty, their pretty pink, but oh, if I could change them to a beautiful crystal clear like his I would do so without another thought. 

“Fairy Princess,” he said, lowering himself in his throne and staring at me. At me ! He knew who I was! “You are to be our prisoner, but you are not our enemy. You have not wronged my forest or my laws. I assure you, no harm will come to you while you stay in my castle. Leave, however, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”

The horde of creatures that surrounded me, hideous goblins and things with dangling noses and twigs for legs, laughed evilly. As if they couldn’t wait for me to tempt fate and run away. But why would I ever want to leave if he was here? He thought well of me! Or, at least, he didn’t think of me as his enemy. That was enough! I didn’t know how I would have lived if I’d known he thought badly of me. I would have lain down and waited for death. That was the only fate I could have borne if I thought he disliked me.

Oh and his voice… how could I have ever disliked his voice? He sounded like the earth, like the forest, like the creatures moving within the ground and the trees, building homes, spreading life, as if he was the foundation of existence itself.

I had to tell him how I felt. There was no other course for this pounding in my chest, for this feeling that must have been coming off me in waves. Of course he would already know. Everyone who saw him must love him as I did, but I couldn’t stay silent.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” I said, “and I think I may be in love with you.”

The room fell silent. I cursed internally, as I was at once struck by the inadequacy of my confession. How could I convey the true depth of my feelings with something so feeble as words?  

Despite the insufficiency of my declaration, he seemed quite overcome. He gripped the arms of his throne with his long, perfect fingers, and his face betrayed such shock and confusion that I was certain I must be misreading it. Surely I was not the first to confess such a feeling. A man as utterly divine as this, surely he received such confessions twice daily?

I unfurled my wings, my stiff, cramped, pink wings - oh, who could care for pink and pretty when true beauty was standing in the same room? - and floated to his throne. He stiffened, and snatched up his long, elegant staff, and pointed it at me. With his other arm, his other perfect, masculine arm, he gripped the back of the seat and pulled his leg up, as if he might leap off into the air at any moment.

Did he think I would attack him? How could I bear the thought of doing harm to such a lovely being? But wait, he had just kidnapped me. Ah, that would be it. Usually a person would be upset at the thought of being kidnapped, so he must’ve assumed I was displeased.  But kidnapping doesn’t often lead to meeting the most beautiful man in the world, so while being upset about kidnapping was a perfectly reasonable response in most cases, those feelings could never apply to my situation.

“I’m not upset that you kidnapped me,” I said. I stopped before the end of his staff, and raised my hands gently. I didn’t want to frighten the poor man, who had done absolutely nothing wrong. “I’m grateful. Please.”

“What.” he said, flat. He said it in just the way Marianne did. Oh, poor Marianne, I hoped she wouldn’t worry on my account! She must have thought I was suffering dreadfully. I only wished I could show her the paradise where I had suddenly found myself.

“I think the Oversized Kidnapping Sack was an excellent touch,” I said. I placed my hands at the end of his staff and gently pushed it down. “It was a wonderful idea and I liked it very much.”

“You liked it?” he asked.

“Of course!” I said. It had brought me to him! If it had been built from poisonous spikes I would have loved it with all my heart! “But the material was rough,” I said, “and since you said yourself I’m not your enemy I really think you should have provided a blanket.”

“I- I-” he stuttered, and looked back at the horde confused, and back to me. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

Oh, how considerate he was! How willing to admit his faults! Not, of course, that he had any more worth admitting. He was beyond any shadow of a doubt the most perfect man to ever live.

I floated upward, and before could re-erect the barrier of his staff, I flitted to him, set myself in his lap, wrapped my arms around his chest, and pressed my head against his shoulder.

He flinched and threw his hands up as if he was afraid I might bite him. What had I done to frighten him so? Ah, but I couldn’t concern myself with such a harmless and easily resolved misunderstanding, not while I lived in the bliss of my cheek on his shoulder, and not while I had such urgent matters to rectify.

“Let me try again,” I said. “I love you, you know I love you, but my earlier confession was only the tiniest little hint of my true feelings. To say the words ‘I love you ’ could never be enough! You are divine! You are wonderful! I didn’t realize that there was beauty in the world until I saw you!”

“Oh no,” said the love of my life.

“I feel like my whole life up to this moment has just been a waste of space, and like I’m only really alive now because you’re here.” I stroked his face tenderly, but he looked distressed. “But don’t worry! We’re together now! Everything’s better!”

“The Potion,” he mumbled, dragging a beautiful hand down his beautiful face.

“You have lovely eyes,” I said, and kissed his cheek.

He bolted upright, shoving me out of his lap. I only just caught myself before I hit the floor, and I floated beside him as I waited for him to speak.

“Lock this crazy creature in the dungeon!” he yelled to the hideous masses behind me.

Oh! He wanted to keep me! But still, I couldn’t help giggling. “You don’t have to lock me up, darling sweetie lovey-dovey bear. I wouldn’t go anywhere you didn’t want me to.”

But the horrible creatures he commanded didn’t care for the obvious logic I presented. One atrocity grabbed my ankle and pulled me backward. I couldn’t stop floating or my face would hit the floor, but that also meant I couldn’t resist as I was pulled back, away from my love, and out of the throne room.

“Wait! Please wait! What's your name?” I yelled, but I received no answer. Had I done something wrong? Had I offended him? Oh, I hoped I hadn’t.

I was pulled in that manner for some time, and I tried to memorize the turns so that I could find him again as soon as I was free. Right, left, left, straight, right, left, straight, straight - but try as I might, this castle, my true love’s castle, was a maze of dark tunnels and identical doors and in a matter of minutes I was hopelessly lost.

Finally we came to a massive room, somewhere low in the castle, with a massive staircase gently sloping to the side as it descended into the darkness. The room was not empty.

“Sunny!” I yelled, delighted. Sunny  huddled at the near edge of a massive cage that dangled from the ceiling. That would be cause for concern in ordinary circumstances, but my dearest love was in charge of this place, and if he wanted Sunny in a cage then there must have been a good reason for it.

“Dawn!” Sunny yelled back. “It’s okay! I’m gonna get us out of here! I have a plan, don’t worry!”

“Get us out?” I laughed, and nearly forgot to float, the concept was so outrageous. Luckily I managed to stay up, as the thing dragging me made no sign that he would slow, and these stairs were very long.“We don’t need to leave . This is the most perfect place we could ever hope to be! Oh, Sunny, I’m in love. ”

“What? ”

“He’s the most perfect man I’ve ever seen. Just wait until you meet him, he’s so handsome. A king! He’s perfect! I’ve never been so happy in my life. Oh, how could I ever want to leave?”

Sunny’s face went white, as if I’d just told him that I’d died and he was secretly talking to a ghost. “Oh no,” he said, clutching the sides of his head. “No, no, no, no, no! Dawn, that’s the Love Potion! Oh, what have I done?”

I just laughed. It was classic Sunny to worry and blame himself even when there was no problem.

The ugly dragging creature hefted me into a private cell and shut the door behind me. I was alone. But that was all right. My true love was nearby, and I was sure I’d be rescued soon.

Chapter Text

I stared into the night sky, thoughts racing. Dawn. She had been stolen away right in front of us by that… I didn’t have words for him. He was unnatural. Or perhaps too natural. The horrid place he ruled had burrowed its way into his skin - he looked like bugs and fungus ate away at him from the inside. Long, thin limbs like a harvestman spider waiting for a corpse. When I’d punched him, his skin felt like tree bark, dry and pliant. And when he’d caught my next jab...

I collected my sword from where it had been knocked away. I had been incapacitated so easily. There had been four of the hideous creatures, and they had come in an ambush, but still. It had been discomfiting to see my own weakness reflected so clearly. I needed to be stronger if I was going to protect Dawn.

But what did I need to protect her from? I mean, her kidnapper, right now. But beyond that?

I couldn’t process what had happened with Sunny. 

How could he do that? What had he been thinking? What on earth could have compelled him to do something so vile? Had he just confessed and been turned down? Dawn hadn’t said anything about it, hadn’t acted strange when she spoke about him. I couldn’t understand doing absolutely nothing for months, and then this sudden leap to brainwashing and treason. Had he even considered a middle ground? And what had he meant by 'I  thought she was you’ ? I wouldn’t delude myself and think that he had secretly been harboring feelings for me. His affection for Dawn was painfully obvious. So what sort of riddle was that? Or was it a desperate, ill-considered excuse?

I couldn’t ask him. He had been taken too, by the same hideous creature that had stolen my sister.

I tucked my sword into its proper place at my hip and leapt after them. 

“Hold it right there!” Something gripped my ankle and caught me midair. In an instant I had my sword back out. I dropped to the ground, rolled out of the grip and wheeled on them.

It was the king. I let out my breath and lowered my sword from his throat, but I didn’t put it away.

“You are not going anywhere, Marianne.” he said. “I forbid it.”

“I have to get Dawn back.”

This is my fault. I let her get captured.

I didn’t say that out loud. I couldn’t bear to hear him try to dissuade me. I couldn’t bear to hear him agree .

“Dawn is not the only princess they were after. You will return to the palace and wait there until it is safe for you leave.” He turned to his personal guard - his worthless personal guard , who stood by and did nothing - and raised a hand. “Escort Princess Marianne back to the palace and make sure she stays there. I need to go fix this.”

Two of the useless soldiers approached. They each grabbed one of my arms and frog-marched me away from the scene.

“Your majesty!” a voice came from a distance away. The soldiers stopped to look, which meant I got to as well. Roland pushed a leaf out of his way and stepped out from a hole in the brush. “I’ll save the princess.” He gestured behind him. “I was just fighting a dozen goblins, by the way.”

As much as I hated him, I was impressed by the audacity of such a bare-faced lie. Unfortunately, going by the look of admiration in my father’s eyes, I was the only one who realized it wasn’t true.

“Roland!” said the king. “Yes! Perfect! Please, go save my daughter.”

“Are you kidding me?” I yelled. I was ignored, and the soldiers restarted their march.

“I’m going to need an army,” said Roland. “Fully outfitted, of course.”

“Of course. Anything to see my daughter safely home.”

Anything, my ass.

I flared my wings straight backward, out of the guards’ reach. It would be possible to bring them forward and smack my captors, but even with my strength training my wings wouldn’t be strong enough to incapacitate them.

Instead, I pounded downward and dragged myself into the air.

They planted their feet and didn’t let go of my arms. It was a struggle. I gave them a fight, but I wasn’t strong enough to lift both of them straight up. With my arms held in place, the upward momentum transferred to my lower body, and my legs kicked backward into the air. 

I floated above them, body level, arms secure.

I pounded my wings one more time, hard. As I rose up, both guards pulled downward.

I tucked my knees and let them drag my full body weight down onto them.

Both feet made contact with the guard on the right, and I smashed full force into the back of his knee. He crumpled, but didn’t let go. 

Right guard was on the floor, and left guard was pulled off balance. I pounded my wings again and lifted up, tucked my knees in close to my chest, and kicked hard at left guard. Both feet connected with the side of his head. His stupid ornamental helmet rang like a gong, and he let go as he stumbled back.

One down.

Before right guard regained his footing, I drew my sword with my free hand and struck down with the pommel. His helmet cracked. He collapsed fully and released my arm. 

I was free. 

More guards circled me.

I pulled myself into the air, unhindered this time. My sword was drawn, and I was ready for anyone that was stupid enough to get between me and Dawn.

Some guards drew their own swords and spread their wings, ready to leap after me. Others looked to the king, waiting for his signal.

I looked too.

He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t even look disappointed.

He looked disgusted.

“Let her go,” he said, loud and enunciated. The guards lowered their swords, but didn’t put them away. I didn’t give them time to change their minds. I sheathed my sword and sped off toward the Dark Forest. The king looked away as I flew past him. That was fine. I didn’t need to look in his eyes to know I wouldn't be welcome back.

I flew east, with only stars and moonlight to guide me, until I reached the edge of the Dark Forest. I'd thought I'd understood its name before, but no. The space between the trees was pure black, as even the light of a full moon couldn't penetrate through to the forest floor. I had never been afraid of the dark, and I'd already survived the one excursion into this foreign hellscape. But somehow, that ominous blackness caught my heart and squeezed. I wasn't even in the forest, and I had to struggle to breathe through my fear.

In that moment, I understood exactly what my father had planned.

If the Dark Forest didn’t kill me, the Bog King would.

If the Bog King didn’t kill me, Roland had an army on the way.

I’d come begging for forgiveness on bended knee, or I’d die in a nightmare land and they’d never find my body.

Either way, the king would have a more suitable heir.

I shook off the doubt and braced myself. I’d survived the Dark Forest once. How much harder could it be in the dark? If I could sword-fight blindfolded, I could survive the Dark Forest in low light. This would be nothing.

I gripped my sword, and I pushed into the darkness between the trees. At once I was overcome, barely able to see my hand in front of my face. I was sure the starlit field behind me glowed like a beacon. I didn't turn around to look.

I breathed and kept moving. I could do it. This would be fine. I'd survive the forest. I'd survive Roland's stupid army. I'd save Dawn and figure the out the rest later.

As for the Bog King? I already had a plan for him.

He’d had surprise on his side last time. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

Chapter Text

This was the worst case scenario. No, this was worse than anything I could have imagined for a worst case scenario.

Dawn and I were trapped in cages in the Dark Forest. That was… bad.

At least our cells were pretty big? That was an upside. Dawn had her own private room with a closed door. I was in a massive cage suspended from the ceiling, so high above the stone floor that I couldn’t look down without feeling dizzy. I think it must have been built for a bigger creature than an elf. The bars were wide enough apart that I could walk through them if I wanted to. Of course, the only things that would get me would be several broken bones and possibly an early grave.

A plan worth considering, at this point.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I suspected this was deliberate on the part of the Bog King. The Dark Forest equivalent of tossing a prisoner a skein of rope and bribing the guard to look the other way. Considering the intricacies of the orb cell, I couldn't imagine the Dark Forest was at a loss for good cages.

But the worst of it wasn’t the cold metal, or the fear of being dashed down onto stone, or that the Bog King might come back at any moment and arrange some horrifying execution.

It wasn’t even the gentle white glow from the distant floor-hatch. The knowledge that Mirabelle Comfit’s empty prison sat nearby, that she was out in the world somewhere, wreaking mayhem, and it was all my fault.

No. The worst of it was the screaming . It had been nearly singing, at first. Ecstatic. From the moment her cell door closed, Dawn had screamed and shouted anything and everything for her dearest, darling, divine new true love.

And then, when no one came for her, she had turned to desperate screams. Yelling bargains into empty air. She’d be quiet if he came for her. She’d cooperate. She’d do whatever he wanted.

I wanted to vomit.

I couldn’t say how long we’d been down here, but it was long enough for her to get hoarse.

She kept screaming. 

The stones below looked more inviting with each moment.

It wasn’t the idea of her wanting someone else - how many times had I seen that? How many times had I helped ? No. 

She didn’t care that the person she was enamored with had kidnapped her. She didn’t care that he was a monster. She didn’t care that he had known what had happened to her, he had known her feelings, and he had still locked her away. She didn’t care as her voice grew tired and cracked. She didn’t care, and screamed anyway, desperate for even the slightest scrap of attention from someone who couldn’t be bothered to remember she existed.

It was horrible. Nauseating. A sick, twisted reflection of love that went against everything Dawn had ever hoped for.

I had caused it. 

So we stayed together in the darkness and the noise.

The door to the dungeon opened. The Bog King descended, headed toward Dawn’s cell. I wanted to yell at him, scream not to go near her, but I couldn’t. Fear was a factor. Shame a stronger one.

Dawn, still screaming, didn’t hear him approach until he opened the outer door to her cell. 

She squealed at his arrival. Thorns barred her exit, but she ignored the pain and pressed herself against them as she reached out a hand for him. 

He was unmoved. He looked even more frightening now than when I had first seen him. Wings, clear and torn ragged, jutted out of his back. He approached her cell, stalked out from the shadows like a viper.

“You need to stop screaming. You’re upsetting my subjects and risking your health.”

Dawn giggled. “Why hello there, handsome. Do you come here often? What’s your sign?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We’re trying to figure out an antidote. I promise we’re trying to figure out an antidote. But in the meantime, please stop. ”

She stopped. Her mouth shut. She barely blinked.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

“Oversized Kidnapping Sack,” she said, then shut her mouth tight again.

“I- That is, yes, technically correct. Do you understand why you were brought here?”

“So that I could meet you and fall in love and we can live happily ever after and have forty kids and-”

“No, no, stop that.”

She stopped.

“What do you know about the elf uprising in the Fairy Kingdom?”

That got my attention. I peeked my head through the bars and leaned over the edge. I couldn’t see the Bog King’s face, but he had sounded serious. An elf uprising? What had happened in the past few hours?

Dawn shook her head.

The Bog King steepled his creepy stick fingers. “We have reason to believe that an elf, possibly part of an organized group, targeted you and your sister in an attempt to take over the kingdom. We’ve apprehended the ringleader, but we don’t know who he was working with.”

Oh no, wait, that wasn’t a new dramatic development, that was me. He was talking about me. This was so much worse than the worst case scenario.

“That sounds spooky. Thank you for taking care of it for me.” Dawn smiled softly. “You’re so nice, and so capable, and-”

“Do you know what a Love Potion is?”

Dawn looked like she had to struggle to think of it.

“I think? Marianne was talking about them. Aren’t they super illegal and bad or something? I wasn’t paying attention.”

He sighed again.

“Love Potions are a kind of mind control. We think the elf revolutionary was going to force you to fall in love with him then usurp the throne. You were affected, but you accidentally fell in love with me instead. Do you understand? What you’re feeling right now isn’t real, it’s caused by a Love Potion.”

Dawn shook her head. “No, this is real,” she said. “I can feel it. Marianne said Love Potions were bad, and this doesn’t feel bad, so it’s got to be real.”

The Bog King was silent for long moments. 

“How about this? If I give you an antidote for a Love Potion and you stop being in love with me-”

“Impossible!”

“If. you stop being in love with me, then you'll return home and we’ll both be politely embarrassed about this for the rest of our lives. But if I give you an antidote and it doesn’t work , then we’ll get married and live happily ever after. If you’re so confident, then-”

“And once we get married we’ll have forty kids?”

“I’m not promising that.”

“Deal!” Dawn shoved her arm through the jagged thorn bars. The Bog King flinched back, but when it became clear she was only after a handshake he accepted. Dawn didn’t let go. She reached through with her other hand and held on with both.

“I…” He gently extricated his hand from hers and took a step back. “I need time to arrange the antidote. Perhaps you’d like to rest? You must be tired , after all that yelling.”

Dawn placed both hands over her heart and gave him a besotted look.

“You are so considerate,” she whispered.

“You take a nap. I’ll come back once the antidote is finished.” He turned to leave, but stopped when she called.

“Please tell your name?” she asked.

He took a step back, and struck a pose that might strike terror in a weaker man. Not me. Some other, much weaker man.

“I am The Bog King.”

“My Boggy Woggy Kingy Wingy!” crooned Dawn.

He visibly flinched. “Absolutely not.”

“Kingy Wingy?”

“Bog King.”

“Just Boggy Woggy then.”

He inhaled sharply through the nose. “Fine. That will be fine.”

Dawn beamed, then moved further into her cell, beyond where I could see her.

The Bog King closed her outer door.

“Good night,” he said softly, then stalked over to the glowing floor hatch. He took a moment to unlatch it, and I looked up from the sulking huddle I definitely wasn’t curled in. 

Mirabelle Comfit had escaped earlier, because of me. That cell was empty. What did he want down there? 

He reached one of his insectoid arms down below the floor, and pulled up the orb cell that had been her personal prison. Except, when I looked closely, I could see something buzzing around inside.

“Comfit. Did you do that on purpose?”

She was still trapped oh thank the stars, thank every star at once, ohhhhh this was soooooo much better than the worst case scenario.

“Do what on purpose, Boggy Woggy?” I had never imagined I could be so happy to hear that weird warble voice. Thank heavens Mirabelle Comfit was here.

“That. The ‘boggy woggy’ thing. Did you use the Love Potion to make her do that?”

“Oh Kingy Wingy, you know I lived with her when she was growing up, right? Is it so unbelievable that we might have similar speech patterns?”

“You did it on purpose.”

“Oh, I absolutely did it on purpose. Simple modification on my pet name subprogram. All I had to do was-”

The Bog King shook her little cell. She yelled in protest. Did that hurt her?

“I need an antidote.” 

“Pfft. You really think I’d neutralize one of my groundbreaking creations? As if.”

He shook it again.

She yelled in protest. “I can’t! There’s nothing strong enough to neutralize it! No ingredient is strong enough to negate the primrose petals, and the petals themselves won’t work against the potion, they’ll just amplify it.”

“Think of something!” he hissed. He spoke quietly and I had to strain to hear.

“There are two things,” I couldn’t see her from this distance, but I could hear chaotic smile in her voice. “The spell doesn’t affect children, or those who can’t feel romantic attraction in the first place. So, all I’d have to do would be to concoct a potion that can reverse the aging process-”

“No.”

“What do you mean? That’s a perfect solution!”

“I’m not an idiot, Comfit. I know you won’t make an antidote for that one either.”

“Hmph. Well then, we destroy the subject’s ability to feel love at all. That will clear up the-”

“No.” He gave the orb another hard shake. She yelped, and he stopped quickly.

“All right, all right. Have you told her to try, uhhh…. not ?”

“What?”

“Has she tried just not being affected? Has she tried the just say no method on magical compulsion?”

He didn’t bother shaking the orb. He just gave her a flat look.

“You know Boggy Woggy, I bet if you asked her she’d do it. Of course, as she fell out of love with you she’d stop doing what you said and then fall back in love with you, and then obey you again and stop obeying, ad infinatum.” The whirring blur of her form stilled as she considered this. “Actually, is there a way to harness that? That’s essentially a perpetual motion machine. Does it count as a perpetual motion machine if you have to feed it unrelated energy sources? It wouldn’t be any fun if my machine starved while I was running tests.”

“Comfit.”

“Ugh. Fine. There’s one more option . The same one that stopped you on that fateful day .”

He chucked the orb against the opposite wall. Mirabelle Comfit screamed as she struck, but no sound after.

The door opened again, and the sound of scampering feet as some horrible creature with a massive beak and ears ran into the room and straight to the Bog King.

“News, Majesty!” It yelled.

“Quiet,” he said. “What news?”

“There are reports of creatures getting,” the creature paused and grimaced. “...Love dusted. By the Imp.”

The Bog King grimaced.

“Bring them all here, and find that creature .”

The goblin skittered back out of the room, and the Bog King stalked over to the orb cell, picked it up, and leered into it.

“Did you hear that, Comfit? Your little pet is leaving a trail. If I were you I’d think very hard about an antidote before he was caught.”

“I already gave you your options, Boggy Woggy Bear. Just because you don’t listen -”

He put the orb cell back into its space below the floor and closed the hatch.

With that, he turned to stalk out of the room. Just as he reached the door, his head snapped around.

His eyes bored into mine.

I flinched and scrabbled back into the cage, heart pounding in my throat. The room was silent, aside from my panicked breath. 

After long moments, the door sounded shut. We were left alone in the dark again.

Dark, except for Mirabelle Comfit’s prison.

“Hey!” I didn’t dare shout, but I whispered it as loud as I could. There was no response. “Hey! Hey! It’s Sunny!”

“Sunny?” Her voice was shockingly loud. She was smaller than my finger, where did she get all that air? “Sunny where are you?”

“I’m in a- I’m in a cage! I can’t get out without falling!”

There was a moment of silence.

“Land so you break your ankles! I want to hear what it sounds like!” 

Thank every star, thank every constellation that she was still locked up.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“No, Sunny, I’m serious! I’ll heal you! I’ll totally heal you! Just fall!”

“How are you going to heal me? With what?”

“Imp can bring me herbs, it’ll be fine!”

What, her little creature would take it’s sweet time collecting ingredients while I layed there screaming with broken legs? I thunked my head against one of the metal bars.

But wait, maybe there was a plan there? If I could get out of this cage alive, Dawn and Mirabelle Comfit were right there. Sure, Dawn was brainwashed and Mirabelle Comfit was trapped in a little ball where she should stay until the end of time, but I’d made complex plans with less.

I peeked my head over the edge of the cage floor. That stone looked really far away.

"If I jump, can you actually heal me?”

“I’ll need herbs for full healing, but you won’t be in pain. I just need to section off one tiny itty bitty part of your brain and you’ll feel fine. I’ll even put it back once you’re fixed! But only if you promise to snap your legs extra loud!”

It was a terrible, terrible plan. I didn’t want Mirabelle Comfit anywhere near my brain, and I definitely didn’t want to break my legs to pay for the privilege.

But this was for Dawn. Mirabelle Comfit would never give the antidote to the Bog King, but maybe if I talked to her, Dawn could be cured. 

I said I would do anything for her. I’d already done worse.

I walked through the bars, closed my eyes, and threw myself off of the platform.

Panic seized me as I fell and kept falling . I was spinning in empty air, and-

My back hit first with a dull crack. The rest of me followed. All the air punched out of me. The pain seared through me. White hot and dull throbs together. I couldn’t make any noise but wheeze.

I layed there and gasped for air.

“Was that it? Did you jump? I barely heard a crack at all.”

I couldn’t get any air in. I couldn’t breathe. Oh stars, was I dying?

“Sunny? Sunny, can you hear me? I can’t do anything for you if you’re unconscious. More importantly, you can’t do anything for me. Don’t be unconscious.”

Through a completely dignified series of events, I figured out how to breathe again. I definitely didn’t sob out in pain and fear of my imminent death. I didn’t then realize that I couldn’t breathe in because my lungs were full and I needed to breathe out first. That didn’t happen. That would be embarrassing. 

“Sunny. Sunny. Sunny. Sunny. Sunny. Answer me, I know you’re there. Sunny. Sunny. Don’t ignore me.”

“Shut up. ” I wheezed, then pulled in another agonizing breath.

“Oh good, you’re fine. Come over here and I’ll carve up your brain for you.”

I tried to get up, but a burst of pain in my shoulders forced me back down. My vision blacked out, and I took several long breaths before it returned.

“I can’t get up.” I could barely force the air out. Were my lungs okay?

“Well wriggle over here then. I can’t fix it if I can’t touch you.”

No better ideas. I wriggled. My back and shoulders were agony, but my legs were largely functional. At least my back wasn’t broken. I gently pushed and jiggled myself to the hatch. Eventually the texture beneath me changed. I was on top of it.

“I see you!” She sounded excited. “Stick your arm down here, don’t bother opening it!” 

I couldn’t process what she meant for a moment. Ah. The hatch wasn’t a full cover, it was a series of lashed beams with regular gaps. I let my arm fall behind me into one of the holes.

“You’re not close enough. Turn over and reach.”

I pushed down with one foot and rolled myself onto my stomach.

I bit back a scream. What came out was a gargle and lip full of blood. I tried to draw in another breath, but my chest pressed against the hatch. I couldn’t force any air into my lungs.

“Reach down here! I’ll fix it!”

My vision tunneled. I ignored my screaming shoulder and forced my arm down toward the glowing cell. 

I could just barely touch one fingertip through the web.

She seized it.

The pain lifted like a tomb door open. Before I could do anything more than gasp for air-

“Don’t move! You’re still injured, you just can’t feel it!”

I stayed down and luxuriated in the joy of being able to breathe.

“How?” I asked. “How are you-”

“You already know I’ve modified myself.” She gestured her free hand to her bizarre form. “Back when I was still working in the medical center I thought this would be a useful skill to have.” She hummed in approval. “You’ve got severe bruising, minor internal bleeding, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a concussion. Nice takeaway! You ought to jump off high things more often!”

“I’m not going to-”  I started, but my air gave out. It was strange, to feel no pain but be limited by my injuries. 

“Just take it easy. Imp will be here in a minute and then we’ll talk about payment for your healing potion.”

My whole body tensed. I couldn’t feel the pain, but I was overcome by a sense of physical wrongness. I tried to calm myself. “Payment ?”

“I can’t just give you a healing potion for free, silly billy.”

“Your payment,” I choked out, “was the joy of hearing me fall.”

She said nothing, but I could hear her raise an eyebrow.

“I cracked two ribs for you.” I paused and took a deep breath. “You want to talk payment? The ingratitude. ”

“Oh, save your breath, it’s fine. It’s not like you have anything I really want. I’ll give you the potion and your payment will be that you don’t leave your corpse on top of my hatch.”

I breathed.

“Why were you in a cage anyway? What does Boggy Woggy want with you?”

“That’s uh…" I took in a deep breath. "He mistook me for a revolutionary.”

She snorted. 

“Listen,” I said, before she could make fun of me, “Did you mean that?” After just those few words, I had to break for air. “About the antidote. Is there really no way to cure it?”

She gave me a smug look. “She fell in love with the wrong person, didn’t she?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but I was interrupted.

There was a distant sound of claws scrabbling over old wood. The noise came closer. 

Claws landed on stone, and Imp gave a triumphant squeak.

I didn’t risk lifting my head, but I didn’t need to. I felt as he lay down next to me, and I saw his little paw as he dropped leaves and roots through the hatch. He never came close to touching the orb cell.

“Thank you Imp, darling. Mommy’s so proud! Sunny, I’ll have you fixed up in a second.”

I remembered the last potion I’d had her make. “Should I look away?”

“Hm? Oh, no, no trade secrets here. Any nitwit could figure this one out. Look all you want.”

I looked.

She kept one hand on my finger, just inside the orb cell. The other arm she gestured carelessly. The ingredients disintegrated and twisted, sectioned and measured themselves, then poured themselves into shape.

This potion was a thin, sky blue cylinder with a pointed end. In contrast with the Love Potion, the healing potion looked plain and functional. I remembered seeing others like it in the palace medical center.

Before I could wonder how I would get the potion out of the orb cell without moving, Mirabelle Comfit grabbed it and jammed the pointed end into my finger.

I yelped and pulled back.

There was no pain as I leapt up. I took a few experimental breaths. My lungs were back to normal.

“That’s amazing!” I blurted. Beneath me, Mirabelle Comfit snorted.

“One measly little healing potion is nothing. That’s the amazing one.”

Now that I wasn’t face down in agony, I could get a look at Imp. He gestured his empty, dirty paws toward me, then smiled his jagged little teeth and shifted his tail. The end was wrapped tight around the Love Potion.

I flinched away.

Mirabelle Comfit cackled. I couldn’t see her through the hatch anymore. I could only see the glow of her prison.

“You have the Love Potion. Dawn’s right there. I don’t have an antidote, but you can make sure she’s looking at the right person this time.”

“No!”

“Oh come on. Please? I want to see how it’ll go wrong.”

I shuddered. “I don’t want her like this! She’s not herself! She just listened to me hit the floor and almost die, and she didn’t even make a sound anything because the Bog King told her to be quiet.” 

Dawn’s silent cell door seconded my declaration.

“You didn’t nearly die,” said Mirabelle Comfit. “It was one punctured lung, you big baby.”

“I was wrong, okay? I never should have tried to force her. I’m sorry. Please, I just want Dawn back. Even if she never talks to me again, I just want her back to normal.”

“Ugh, enough with the moralizing. I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t fix it. Honestly, this sounds like a you problem.”

Stars, I wanted to shake her stupid little cell. 

Okay. Okay okay. I just needed to think of a plan. What did I have at my disposal?

I had: Mirabelle Comfit, who wanted freedom and chaos. Imp, who wanted whatever his mistress wanted. Dawn, who wanted the Bog King. The Love Potion, which probably didn’t want anything. And The Bog King, who wanted to stop Mirabelle, Imp, Dawn, and The Love Potion.

I was sure there was something there.

Maybe I could turn over Imp and the Love Potion to The Bog King? Beg for mercy?

That didn’t seem like it would work. Mirabelle Comfit would concoct some hideous revenge if I sacrificed her pet.

Maybe I could use the Love Potion on Mirabelle Comfit?

Oh, that really didn’t seem like it would work. She’d made the potion, she’d modified herself before, so for all I knew she’d made herself immune. Good odds on Imp being immune too.

I could use the Love Potion on Dawn. Not because I wanted her in love with me, not like this, never like this. But if she would magically obey me, she would follow me out of this prison and we could escape. 

Escape to where, though? The fairy kingdom couldn’t help. And Dawn wasn’t in danger here.

What if I made The Bog King fall in love with me? That would definitely get me out of immediate danger. But then what? The Bog King was bigger and stronger than I was. If he was obsessed with me, he’d never let me leave the Dark Forest. I’d only be trading a small prison for a larger one.

This wasn’t working. I needed to think outside the box. What did I have at my disposal?

I had Dawn. I had her wings and our history and her value as a member of the royal family. Mirabelle Comfit. I had her intelligence, her sadism, her terrifying reputation. Imp. Nimble paws and devotion. The Bog King. Another terrifying reputation, and I had what he wanted. The Love Potion. A mind-altering substance with thousands of potential uses.

What could I do? 

Use the Love Potion en masse. Assemble an army. And then what?

Unleash Mirabelle Comfit and escape to the east. And then what?

Use the Love Potion on myself? And then what?

What was I even trying to accomplish?

I wanted Dawn back to normal. I wanted to undo the chaos I had let Mirabelle Comfit unleash on the world. I wanted to get out of this prison and go back home. I wanted everyone safe.

I’d have to be a genius to make one of those things happen. All of them would take nothing less than a miracle.

A miracle.

Or some very good luck.

Oh. Oh, I was an idiot. 

I lifted the hatch and dropped down into the crawlspace that held the orb cell.  “Do you still have the other primrose petal from earlier?” I asked. “Or did you use it already?”

“I still have it,” she said. She crossed her arms and pouted. “I wanted to make something really fun with it, but Boggy Woggy recaptured me before I could find a suitable victim.”

I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. I had everything at my disposal. Mirabelle Comfit and a primrose petal. Miracles on demand.

“What do you know about Luck Potions?”

She gave me an appraising look. A smile crept up her cheeks. Monstrous, too wide, past what her face should have been able to hold.

“I know everything about Luck Potions. I used to make them for people who upset me. It was my favorite pastime. Some poor sap would come to me, thinking I’d help him with all his horrible little plans - and they were horrible. Nobody would bring me a primrose petal if they wanted something morally justifiable. Of course, you already know about that, don’t you Sunny?”

That… That was fair, actually. “What happened?”

She smirked. “They’d take the Luck Potion, thinking they were about to get away with murdering their colleagues, or burning down orphanages, or… starting a coup? Hurting the royal family, Sunny? ”

I groaned. “Yes, I get it, I was wrong. ‘Enough with the moralizing,’ those are your words. What happened?”

She laughed. Delighted, cosmic bells.

“The formula for a Luck Potion is simple. Once you know what you’re doing, you can target it. Make it focus. Luck in money. Luck in battle. Luck in love. Once I figured out their goals, I’d give them a potion that worked so well it’d break them.” She giggled. “They’d destroy everything they’d ever cared about with their own two hands. It made me so happy. It never took more than a few hours for their minds to go. And I got to watch as their eyes went empty.” She sighed, contented. “Yes, I know everything there is to know about Luck Potions. In fact,” she gave me a conspiratorial look, “the formula is so simple, I can splice elements of Luck Potions into other types of potions. Isn’t that fun? Imagine a Love Potion that would never miss. Or...” Her smile grew manic. “Imagine a health potion that would only work ten percent of the time!” 

“Why would anyone want that?” I asked.

“No one would want it. That’s the point. But imagine making enough to flood the regular supply line! Simple, textbook potions suddenly failing without explanation? Imagine the mass panic!”

Her smile dropped suddenly and she looked at me with furrowed brows. “Why do you want a Luck Potion? If you’re thinking about using it on dear Kingy Wingy, I hate to tell you, but that wouldn’t work out very well for us.”

“No, I want it for myself.”

Mirabelle Comfit was silent.

“I want to fix this. I want to help Dawn and undo all the mess I made. I don’t have any way to do that. But if I had a Luck Potion-”

“I don’t think that’ll work, Sunny.” The look she gave me wasn’t quite excitement, nor was it irritation. It was closer to thoughtful. “Do you know why I haven’t used a Luck Potion to escape already?”

I- Wait, that was a good point, actually. “Why haven’t you?”

“Luck Potions aren’t perfectly named. They don’t work with luck , exactly, they work with time. Across all of the infinite possible timelines, you may marry a princess or become a brave knight, and a Luck Potion could make sure that that’s the timeline you’re in. But you’ll never sprout wings and fly. If I had an improbable plan for getting out of here, then I could use the Luck Potion to bolster the odds of my success. But it won’t suddenly make a hole appear in the cell wall. Do you understand? If there’s no way to help Dawn, then taking a Luck Potion won’t invent one.”

I bit my lip. It had healed from my last bite. “But if there is a way, any way, a Luck Potion would let me find it, right?”

“Technically, yes, but that doesn’t make it a good idea.”

“Please. If there’s any chance I could help Dawn, I have to take it.”

She frowned. “That’s all well and good for you, but it’s hardly a reason for me to give up my primrose petal. What are you going to pay me?”

“Pay? I don’t… I mean, I don’t have anything else with me. I don’t have any more petals.”

She shrugged. “Then I don’t see why I should help.”

I racked my brain. “You’ll get to watch. You can have Imp follow me while I use the Luck Potion and he’ll tell you how I act and what I do. We can even carry your cell around if we have to.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Tempting, but nowhere near enough. Help me escape again.”

“No, definitely not.”

“Then too bad.”

I wanted to stamp my foot. There was at least a chance this could work. I needed her to cooperate.

“Okay, okay, hold on. If the Luck Potion works, and you can make it focus on specific things, then it should be easy to get you your payment, right? Give me the potion, I’ll use the magic luck powers to get you whatever you want, and I’ll bring it back to pay you later.”

She scoffed. “That’s assuming a lot. And even if you succeed, there’s no way you’d come back to pay me.”

“I’ll come back. Because if I don’t, I know you’ll find some way to get revenge. And I’m very scared of you so I don’t want that to happen.”

She gave a snort, and then a full belly laugh.

“All right. I’ll make you the Luck Potion on three conditions. First: Imp has to be safe. If he gets hurt at all, I’ll hold you responsible.”

“Deal.”

“Second: you have to make Boggy Woggy Bear regret ever locking me up like this. Make him pay. ”

Hm. That one would be easy. I was pretty sure the Bog King already regretted locking her up like this. He definitely regretted not giving her more guards.

“Deal.”

“And the third is my payment. You already said you won’t free me?”

“I won’t. Not since you tricked me last time.”

She pressed her hand against the orb cell and looked into my eyes. “Then I want unrestricted access to primrose petals for experimentation.”

I had an immediate gut deep sense of repulsion. But... If she was still trapped in her cell, it might not be so bad? There had to be a loophole in there. Besides, it wasn’t like I had a choice.

“Deal.” I said.

She clapped and giggled, then reached up and behind her crown and pulled out the folded petal.

“All right,” she said. “You know the drill. Look away.”

“Hold on, I’ve got my own conditions.” 

She looked at me expectantly and tucked the petal away.

“First. The priority needs to be undoing the damage I did. If there’s any chance of an antidote, that’s what the focus needs to be. Not you, not me, not more primrose petals. Dawn and the antidote.”

“Deal. That’s what I was going to do anyway.”

“Second. Nobody gets seriously hurt.”

“What? ”

“I mean it.”

“Come on!”

“I mean it.”

“No, I mean, that’s not possible! I can’t stop everyone in the world from getting hurt all at once! Not with one potion! The terms can’t be nullified if some moron a mile away falls off his roof!”

I rolled my eyes. “Nobody gets seriously hurt as a result of the Luck Potion.”

“Oh. That’s fine, I guess. Kinda boring. How are you going to torture Boggy Bear if you can’t hurt him though?”

I sighed. “I don’t know yet. Maybe he’ll be tortured by the fact that he can’t stop your primrose experiments or something.”

She clapped her hands. “That works! I’ll take it. Deal.”

“Last, you have to promise that you aren’t secretly making this potion to psychologically break me. If that’s what you want you have to do it some other time.”

She considered. “Deal. If I want to hurt you I’ll just snap your ribs again. Now is that all?” She pulled the petal back out. “Shall I begin?”

I nodded and turned my back as she started her process. 

I couldn't see the orb cell, but lights flashed behind me. The opposite walls lit up green, then red, then flickered between the two. Then, with one final burst of gold, the light returned to its neutral state.  

I turned back around. Mirabelle Comfit waved a tiny green bottle up toward me. “You’ll have to reach in and grab it.”

I grimaced, then reached in my hand. Despite the displeasure of seeing my hand apparently severed as it went through the orb cell, I kept my eyes open. She pressed the bottle into my hand, then put her hands up and backed away. I pulled the bottle out.

The Luck Potion was a violent, sickly green, and much smaller than the Love Potion. It fit easily into one hand, and instead of a teardrop it was shaped like a circle. Clashing scarlet tendrils wrapped around it, patterned like a ladybug’s wings. A black cap jutted out in two directions, like antennae. 

“I dump this in my eyes?” I asked.

She snorted. “You drink it. It’s only going to be effective until moondown, so you’ll need to have it all wrapped up by then.”

“Moondown?” I balked. “That’s only a few hours!”

She nodded. “You said you didn’t want me to psychologically break you. It has a higher intensity, but it won’t last too long. There’s a chance you’ll still be sane at the end. A chance. ”

I blinked, nodded, and looked at the potion in my hand.

Was this really okay? There was a chance I wouldn’t be me at the end of this. I might never see Dawn again. Did I really want to go through with it?

The potion’s black lid came off with a pop.

Of course. I’d do anything for Dawn. It was my fault she was here.

The potion, raised to my lips, smelled like sourgrass and cherries.

Even if I wasn’t around afterward, I had to do this. I didn’t need forgiveness. I didn’t deserve it. But I had to make it right.

Just one mouthful, and the jar was empty. 

The world burned green and red around the edges, bright and eye-searing. It tunneled in, pounding behind my eyes. I gasped as my sight was overcome completely by color, and force pushed in at the edges of my mind.

I had one last comforting thought as myself.

This was already the worst case scenario. I couldn’t make it any worse.

Sunny’s eyes pierced copper-fire green, and he dropped the bottle. It clinked to the ground, then disintegrated. 

“Hey Sunny, can you hear me?” I floated up and pressed my hand to the web. “Did it work?”

He said nothing. His eyes bored through me, glowing slightly in the dark room. 

“Yup, that worked.” It was nice to know I hadn’t lost my touch. I’d added modified luck formulas to other potions - recently even - but it had been a few years since I’d made a pure Luck Potion. Not that I’d been worried. 

Sunny said nothing. He didn’t move. He just stood.

That wasn’t a great sign.

“What’s the matter? No suitable course of action? Nothing to do?” I sighed. I’d told him that might happen. It was disappointing, but at least he’d probably be sane afterward. Sane enough to understand I told you so.

What a stupid, half-cocked waste of my last primrose petal. Maybe Imp would be able to get me another next year. Or Sunny could get me something when he was halfway right-minded. This wasn’t the end of the world. Just disappointing.

There was a noise from the prison above. The sound of the door, a panicked yell, slapping wet frog feet over the floor.

Ah. Sunny’s empty cage made him think there’d been a prison break. He’d be checking on me in a moment.

Sunny moved forward, empty expression. He lifted the base of my prison and hoisted me upward.

Oh. I smiled. This was about to get interesting.

The hatch pulled up, and a slimy little goblin poked his head in, frantic. 

I let malice pour out of my smile and watched in glee as the creature went pale.

Sunny shoved me upward. The goblin jumped back, but it was too late. My cell caught him straight in the face, and in a flash of white light he was pulled into the cell with me.

It fell to the bottom of the orb, unable to float as I could. The goblin, only half my height in this space, looked at me looming over it and screamed.

Well that wouldn’t do. I shot down next to him and grabbed at his wrist, letting old reflexes and modifications do their work. Disabled control of his breathing. Disabled pain receptors. Disabled muscle control in arms and legs.

I let him sit for a moment, watched his eyes go wide in panic as he realized he couldn’t breathe.

Sunny pushed my cell up out of the hatch, then climbed up himself, still silent.

As I felt the goblin’s panic mount, I forced air manually into his lungs, then closed his throat.

“If you scream, you won’t breathe at all. Understand?” 

It nodded, frantic.

I restored its control over its lungs. Of course, my power over it would stop the moment I let go, but it didn’t know that. It sucked in air loudly, but didn’t scream.

Sunny placed my orb on the ground beside the hatch, and walked away.

“Sunny? You want to get this guy out of my cell? Sunny?” 

He didn’t answer. He walked through of the door that the goblin had left open and out into the castle. Annoying. But I supposed it wasn't his fault he was ignoring me.

“Imp!” The sound of claws on stone, and my darling boy’s face appeared near the cell wall. “Go follow Sunny. He’ll need your help. Even if he doesn’t, I want a full report of his behavior.”

Imp nodded and scampered away, out of the room.

On the downside, I was stuck holding on to this goblin for the foreseeable future. On the upside, it had been a long time since a Luck Potion brought me a scientific breakthrough. If I could take Sunny's behavior as a sign, there was a way to cure a Love Potion and I'd have the details by the end of the night. Finally, things were getting interesting.

Chapter Text

Things had already gone as bad as they could possibly go, but I had no doubt that they would invent some way to get worse.

The princess had finally stopped screaming and gone to sleep. I hoped she’d stay that way for a good long while. In the meantime, I was free to consider my next problem. The Imp.

It had been Comfit’s familiar since long before I’d first seen her. She’d had it with her the first time she had come into my castle, offering her services. It fled when I’d had her apprehended, and no number of patrols seemed capable of capturing the beast. I could only imagine what manner of charms and potions Comfit had applied to the poor creature. Though, it being her familiar, the Imp was probably just as enthusiastic about such things as she was.

My patrols were bringing in the first victims of the Imp’s chaotic ministrations. Snails in love with mushrooms. Fairies in love with frogs. It was sickening. I ordered that they be locked in the dungeon, in separate cages. I couldn’t be sure what memory would be retained if- no, when - they were cured, but it would be better to deny these people the opportunity to humiliate themselves. No matter how it might distress them now, I was certain that any poor frog would rather not remember kissing a fairy for hours on end. I did order that they should be given a clear line of sight to the object of their infatuation, when possible. That should do at least something to alleviate their distress.

I considered the problem at hand. I knew that fire would destroy the potion itself - I had tricked that information out of Comfit years ago - but needless to say the same method could not be used on its victims. Comfit wouldn’t tell me unless I had something to offer or something to threaten her with. I wasn’t willing to give her anything she wanted, and unless something changed soon, I couldn’t imagine that this hunt for the Imp would go any differently than the previous hundred attempts.

I leaned back against my throne and looked at my empty audience chamber. My subjects were out, rounding up the victims, hunting for the Imp, or being brought in as victims themselves. I knew some of them must lurk in the walls, that they would come if I called for them, but there was no need. I leaned my head back and stared up at the ceiling. The trunk of my castle extended upward, and through the skylight I could see the full moon at the peak of its journey across the night sky.

There was something in front of it.

I squinted. It looked like a bat, but it didn’t flit across the surface in the way that a bat should. I could see wings extended from a small body, but the entirety of its shape stayed in the light of the moon. As if it was flying forward. Straight toward me.

The skylight exploded. Glass rained down on me as the fairy attacker screamed her fury, sword drawn. I snatched my staff and whirled it in front of me, barely blocking the blow that would have gone through my head. 

We stayed locked like that for a few moments - it took all my force to hold her back as she pounded her violet wings down, throwing all of her weight into the attack.

I recognized her now. The darker princess. The one who had punched me in the face.

Great. Just what I needed. Another screaming fairy princess.

Her feet touched down. I pushed her away and swung my staff, but she staggered to the side. In an instant she rounded my throne and thrust her sword toward my throat.

Her form was perfect.

I managed to deflect it, but with her using the bone armrest as cover I couldn't return the attack. I tried to break out, away from the throne. She slashed toward me in an arc, stopping me short, and I barely blocked her swing. In less than a breath she returned to position and launched into two more thrusts, each just missing my chest to either side.

If she was used to sparring with other fairies, then she was used to broader targets. I suspected that was all that had kept me alive.

Before she could pull her arm back from the second thrust, I pushed off backwards and alighted on the ground with the throne between us. Without a pause she leapt from her cover, landed on the seat, and used the high ground to launch into another flurry of attacks. I ducked behind the ornamentation of the backrest. She jabbed through the larger gaps with her thin, fairy-made sword, a move that I could not retaliate against with my staff.

She was good, and she knew it. 

Of course, I was hardly a novice myself.

She thrust forward and leaned further into the gap. Too far to pull back quickly. I struck at the base of her sword. I didn’t quite manage to knock it out of her hand, but it left me an opening. I pushed back out from behind the throne and flared my own wings, launching myself into the air and staying there, bidding her to come to me.

No matter how skilled she may be on the ground, a fairy’s wings could never outmaneuver mine. That didn’t bother her, and she flung herself after me.

Or at least, that’s what I’d thought. 

Instead of going for me, she shot to one of my hanging lights, grabbed the chain, and with the sheer power of a fairy’s wings sent it deadline toward me. I dodged out of the way and the thorned light crashed into the wall, sending cracks down to the floor.

This crazy creature had nearly clobbered me with my own chandelier.

“Impressive,” I said, and I meant it. But it was far from a game changer. I grabbed another light, and with the force of my smaller wings behind it, I launched it into a collision course with her. She sliced through the chain, and the light crashed to the floor. 

More cracks.

Now, with no more chandeliers to throw at each other, she came at me in earnest. Two more thrusts and a slash. But our midair fight gave me the advantage I'd thought it would. I dodged the first two and knocked the third away easily.

She realized the problem, and started to test it. Just out of reach she circled around me, checking for weaknesses. I rotated in spot, keeping her in sight.

She pushed herself higher, faster than I could with her powerful wings, then slammed down heavy blows. I could still block them, but she was learning fast. I controlled the lateral playing field, but with her strength she could control the vertical. 

“Had enough yet?” she asked. She blew hair from her eyes as she asked - I might have assumed she was distracted, but she slammed forward with another powerful attack. I had to throw my weight behind my staff to keep from being knocked out of the air. 

“I could do this all day,” I said breezily, and shot out from under her, dropped, made her chase me. I’d have to finish this soon. I let her come close, then stopped on a needle point and swung my staff back at her. 

Parry. Riposte. I was out of her range and the strike didn't land, but her movement looked as effortless as breathing. What was this girl?

“You know,” I said, feeling the need to clarify, despite the fun of our current engagement. I pulled back and placed my staff in front of me in a guard position, giving myself a moment’s respite. “The only reason I took your sister was because of that damn Love Potion.”

“Oh sure,” she said. “Send a quick message, or arrange a kidnapping? Easy mistake to make.” She was clearly mocking me, but somehow there was no spite in it. She launched herself into another attack, and I predictably guarded.

“I had a good reason, if you’ll let me explain.”

She flipped backward, to a crevice in the wall, where she hacked at a piece of thick, dead bark, twice her size. Was this another chandelier trick? Before I could catch up with her, she separated it from the wall and launched it at me startlingly fast.

“Explain this! ”

I dodged it by a hair’s breadth. It hit the ground, where it cracked the stone beneath it, shaking the foundation of the castle. 

All of this structural damage was going to add up.

More importantly, this new feature provided a new strategy, and I took it. I dropped to the ground nearby the hunk of deadwood, and the princess landed too. As I’d predicted, she landed atop the piece, using its height to her advantage, as she’d done with the throne. Unlike the throne, I could circle this new summit. She lunged. I stepped toward her side and brought my staff up level behind me. As she thrust forward, the tip of her sword was caught in the ornate end of my staff.

I could see the realization dawn on her face, and I smiled. With one sharp motion I flung my staff upward and sent her sword flying, then leveled it again, toward her. She was beaten.

She didn’t seem to think so. She grabbed my staff in both hands, pulled me forward, and roundhouse kicked me in the gut. I wheezed, half from pain, half from shock. I tried to swing at her, but she flipped over my blow and caught her sword midair.

I gulped for air. She leveled her sword at my throat. Something stirred inside me: competitive spirit, no doubt. The thrill of finally finding a worthy adversary. 

I knocked her sword away, and we fell into the rhythm of the fight. Dodges, ripostes, thrusts, and parries bled together. I started to tire - I knew she must be tiring too, but she kept pace with me. She tracked my movements perfectly. None of my feints fooled her, and she blocked my blows without looking. But while she kept me at bay, she couldn’t gain any ground. So much of her attention was set on her deft blocks that her attacks were obvious, leaving me free to block them in kind. 

We pulled away from each other and she laughed: a breathless, joyful sound. “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked, pointing her sword at me with an easy smile.

She was bluffing, of course. That reassurance didn’t stop the pounding of my heart. 

I launched into another attack. I was moving more slowly now, but so was she. We kept pace, slicing, falling, returning, as if we had been made to fight each other. There were times that she could have taken me, openings that I left just a little too long, but she refrained. There was a little extra flare in her handiwork now that hadn’t been at the start of our bout. A willingness to show off.

She was enjoying having a competent partner as much as I was.

I followed her lead, added an extra spin in my staff when I could. A delicate procedure, difficult, and purely for her benefit. But she responded in kind. She changed her form, raised her blade higher, flaunted a new style, a trickier one. I was familiar with it; it had historical significance as an art for nobility, but it had fallen out of favor for more practical styles. I couldn’t mirror it with a staff, but I played to these new rules and didn’t take advantage of the openings it left me.

“Your form is excellent,” I said between thrusts. 

“Funny,” she said. “I wish I could say the same to you.”

"What do you mean?”

She made a show of examining her fingernails on one hand as she continued to parry with the other. “I was expecting something… more? ”

My brain tripped over itself, and all I could do was blink, too bewildered to think of a clever retort.

She dropped her applied style and went for a proper lunge, trying to take advantage of my moment of weakness. I went back on the attack myself, not giving her the opportunity.

She moved backward as I advanced on her. When we reached the wall, she didn’t let herself be pinned but stepped up onto it, treating the vertical surface as a new floor.

Vertical sparring. 

Vertical sparring.

A world of training possibilities opened before me, and I stepped up after her, flapping carefully to keep my position level. 

She was a genius. This was pure artistry. And, as I realized quickly between the delicate flapping and the continued swordplay, there was no way I could keep this up. 

I pushed off the wall and landed beside the deadwood. Mostly landed. I managed to stay on my knees, and kept my staff in hand, but it took effort. I expected her to come down on my head as she’d initially intended. Instead, she thunked down in front of me, and after a moment’s struggle to stay on her feet, she collapsed to her knees as well.

We half-heartedly struggled to lift our weapons before we collapsed completely, gasping.

“That’s… haha… You are... very good at fighting,” she said. 

“Thank you… you too…” I gasped back. “Your technique… impeccable.” 

We layed there for several minutes, unable to move.

“Sister,” she said after a long silence. She pulled herself to a sitting position, groaning. “I need my sister.”

I groaned too, but stayed down. “I’m keeping her here,” I said. I wasn’t gasping between words now, but air was still in deficit. “She can’t leave. Needs an antidote.”

The princess wheezed, and got to her feet. I stayed down. If she wanted to kill me, she had earned it.

“Antidote,” she said. “Antidote for what?”

I looked up at her.

She had the too-big, predator eyes that all fairies had, and the same bright coloration that poisonous creatures used flaunt their toxicity. She was therefore, like all fairies, incredibly unsettling to look at. Ordinarily, I prided myself in the fact that I scared fairies more than they scared me. But right now, her too big, too bright eyes showed only concern and determination. Even with her sister on the line, even with my implication that she had been poisoned, this princess wasn’t scared of me at all. 

“Please tell me your name.”

She started a bit, not expecting that turn for the conversation. “Marianne,” she said. 

Marianne. My heart fluttered at the sound of her name. A fear response to the most formidable opponent I'd ever faced. 

“Very well. Follow me, I’ll lead you to your sister.”

I pulled myself to my feet, muscles protesting. She followed as I turned out of the room, leading her toward the dungeon. I noted that she made sure to keep her sword on her as we left. I worried for a moment that she might try to stab me in the back, but she came and walked by my side instead. I was certain that she had noticed the opportunity, so she was deliberately setting me at ease. 

My heart thrilled again. With the spirit of rivalry, of course. 

Together we made our way to the dungeon.

Chapter Text

The Bog King’s dungeon was crammed full of the wailing victims of the Love Potion. Some reached through bars to touch hands, and those ones were quieter, barely. I looked up at them as we descended, trying and failing to keep the disgust off my face. I had seen a mass infection before. I knew how this would go. I kept pace with the Bog King and kept my head down.

Past the bottom of the curved staircase, where the room opened out into open stone floor and suspended cages, there was a closed door. The Bog King took the handle and looked at me, brows furrowed.

“I hope you have a strong stomach,” he said, and he opened the door.

Dawn shrieked in delight and flung herself to the bars. “Boggy Woggy Kingy Wingy Baby!”

He closed the door.

I looked at him, dumbfounded, then stepped forward and reopened it.

Dawn ignored me completely, even though I was closer. “Boggy! Are you staying down here for long? Are you done with whatever you were working on?”

“Dawn?”

She blinked, then smiled at me. “Hi Marianne! Nice to see you! Now if you could leave me alone for one teensy-weensy second, I’m trying to talk to my Boggy Woggy.”

I closed the door.

“This is bad,” I said.

“Yes,” said the Bog King.

“Antidote?”

“Working on it.”

I dragged a hand down my face and looked up. “This is ridiculous.”

His staff rested in the crook of his elbow, and he nervously fiddled his hands. It was an oddly endearing fidget on someone who otherwise looked so formidable.

I let out a sigh. “This is Dawn though. Ridiculousness is expected. What can I do to help?”

He stopped fidgeting and looked away, thoughtful.

“Our current tactic is to apprehend the Imp, Mirabelle Comfit’s familiar,” he said. I remembered Imp, but not well. It had only been around for a few weeks before she left, and according to Mirabelle it had been untrained, so I hadn’t been able to get close.

“How would catching Imp help?” I asked.

“We need to do it anyway, to stop it from love dusting more people.” He gestured up at the filling cages. “But if we capture it, we may be able to use it to force Comfit to cooperate.”

I tensed. “Mirabelle’s here? ”

He blinked at me. “Yes? Where else would she be?”

“Let me see her.” My tone came out sharper than I meant it to. I was about to backtrack and apologize, but Bog didn’t seem bothered. He turned to the right, away from Dawn’s cell door, and further into the dungeon.

A moment later he gasped and bolted forward.

There was an open hatch in the floor, and just in front of it was a strange stick with a glowing white orb on the end.

“What happened? ” he shouted as he snatched it up and shook it violently. I flinched. Even when we were trying to kill each other I hadn’t seen him so angry.

“Be careful! ” yelled a little voice, warbly and immediately recognizable. My breath caught in my throat. “Get your stupid minion out before you shake us!”

The Bog King actually growled. My heart gave a panicked flutter.

He reached his hand into the glowing ball of light and pulled out a full-sized goblin, at least twice as big as the orb itself. The Bog King set frog-looking creature on the floor, where it collapsed backward with a wet smack.

I stared, failing to understand a single thing I was seeing.

“Thank you Boggy Woggy!”

He shook the orb again.“What. Happened.”

The little voice yelled in frustration. “Shenanigans! That’s what happened! You ought to teach your guards how to do their jobs! If I have to get trapped in a cell with anyone that boring ever again-”

The Bog King ignored her and turned to look at the goblin. It was still on the floor, limbs akimbo. 

“Driblet,” said the Bog King. “Are you all right?”

The creature let out a tired whimper, then patted its chest and limbs, as if checking that they were still there. “I think so, your majesty.”

He nodded. “Go get some rest. I’m taking you off dungeon duty for the foreseeable future.”

The goblin sprung up at once. “Yes, your majesty. Thank you, your majesty.” It scampered away, running over my foot in its rush to get to the door.

“Comfit.”

“It wasn’t my idea to lock that idiot in here! I hated every second of it!”

“Be quiet. You have a visitor.”

He beckoned me toward the orb cell. I approached, trying not to let my nerves show. He passed me the branch, and I looked into the light.

“Is that Marianne? ” asked Mirabelle. She looked just as she had on that last day, celestial and partially melted. Huh. For all these years, I’d thought that effect was supposed to be temporary. When I'd thought of her, I'd imagined her as she’d looked before: a fairy woman with dark hair like mine, and dark green wings, who’d smile at me and hold me while she worked. I dreamed about her sometimes, like that. Those dreams always started nice. They only turned to nightmares once she left.

I struggled for the right words. “Hi, Mirabelle,” I said, lamely. 

She squealed in delight. “Marianne! It’s been so long! You’ve gotten so big!” 

“And you’ve, uh… you’ve gotten so small.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind that. How have you-" She stopped cold and tilted her head toward the Bog King.

"Oh. Oh, I see.  You must think you're very clever, don't you?"

He blinked, and shot a glance at me, but said nothing.

"You really think you can use Marianne against me?" She let out a little chime of a laugh. "You can threaten to hurt my Imp, but Marianne is royalty, you know. You can't hurt her, not unless you want more trouble than even I could give you. So if you think I'm going to tell you anything, you'd better-"

"Talking to you was my idea," I said. "Not his."

"Oh. Well." Mirabelle turned away from Bog and flashed me a smile. "That's fine then! Marianne! It's so nice to see you again. Are you giving Dagda trouble? You were such a precocious little tyke when I left, tell me they didn’t drill that out of you.”

I could feel myself grimacing. “I, uh… I’m a normal amount of precocious? I guess?” 

Her face flattened into something more serious. “He didn’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“He did. ”

“Mirabelle, I...” I breathed in hard through the nose. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” 

Her expression darkened. “That bastard.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I worked with your father for years, it’s not hard to guess." She smiled again. "Do you want me to kill him for you?”

I clenched my fist and let my nails dig into my palm. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Mirabelle.”

“Even before I left, the way he treated you wasn’t right. It got worse when I left, didn’t it?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “Fine. But if you want me to raze the whole damn palace to the ground, you say the word and I’ll do it.”

“It’s made of stone.”

“Do you think material would stop me from setting a fire?”

Despite appearances, it didn't seem like Mirabelle had changed at all. Some small, selfish part of me was relieved.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s… that’s not what I need your help with, actually.”

Her eyes lit up. “Who do you need dead?”

"No one.” I groaned. “Dawn got hit with a love potion. I need you to fix it.”

She twiddled her fingers and shifted her glance side-to-side, like she'd been caught in a lie. “Uh… Are you sure I can’t just kill someone?”

“I’d really prefer you didn’t. What do you need so you can fix Dawn?”

“Um…” She fluttered from one end of the orb to the other, almost like pacing. “There isn’t really anything I can do right now. I might be able to do something if you come back later, but in the meantime... If you don't want me to murder anyone, maybe I can just maim them?”

“Excuse me,” said the Bog King. I looked up. He had moved several paces away, turned away from us, and looked... shy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the personal aspects of your conversation. But this part concerns me.”

Bog kept taking me by surprise. He seemed at one moment confident, then sheepish, then furious, then hesitant. I wanted to understand him better.

He approached, still looking uncomfortable. 

“Comfit, what did you mean by that? There isn’t anything you can do right now . What’s going to happen later?”

She frowned. “Ugh. You weren’t supposed to hear that, Boggy Woggy. It’s more fun when you don’t know anything.”

“Mirabelle.” I kept my voice soft. “You will be able to help her, right?”

Mirabelle grabbed her hair… hair? with both hands and groaned in frustration. “Probably! Okay? Probably! It’s possible in theory, but I don’t even know where I’d start. Besides," she waved a hand dismissively, "if we leave her alone she'll be fine eventually.”

"What?" I asked "What do you mean? The Love Potion doesn't wear off-"

"Of course it doesn't. But does Dawn seem like she's in distress? No. She'll either keep doing whatever she likes and having a great time, or she'll realize that Boggy Woggy isn't interested and learn to live with her unrequited feelings. Maybe she'll take up meditation and just decide not to care about him anymore. Regardless, she'll survive."

I flexed and unflexed my fingers, trying to stay calm. "Surviving is not what I'd call 'being fine.' How do we get her back to normal?"

"Why would you want to get her back to normal? She's happier like this. And even if she isn't, it's not like her life's been ruined."

I was overwhelmed by a sudden desire to grab the stupid orb and throw it against a wall. Instead, I took a deep breath in and I spoke through clenched teeth. “Excuse me. Would you repeat that please?”

The Bog King inched away from me.

Mirabelle just cocked an eyebrow. “I said ‘it's not like her life's been ruined.’ It's just a nasty crush, it's not going to kill her.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” I turned away. “Bog King? Put her back wherever she needs to go, we’re done talking.”

He nodded and took the staff.

“Hey!” yelled Mirabelle. “Hey, wait a second!”

I had been an idiot. An idiot. I’d been so entranced by the idea of seeing Mirabelle again. I hadn’t even let myself think it, not really, but some small part of me wanted her back. Of course she was a monster. Of course she wouldn’t care about the people she'd hurt. Even if it was Dawn. Even if it was me. Only interested in having fun, no thought to the consequences. No, Mirabelle hadn't changed at all. But I had. I wasn't a child any more, and I didn't need her. 

“Marianne! You don’t get to ignore me! Marianne!  When I say she'll be fine I mean it!”

“What would you know?” My voice was too loud. For just a moment, the victims in the cages around me quieted. Bog, holding the orb cell, stopped. But I couldn’t. I was getting louder.

“You never stopped to watch what happened to the people you hurt! You ruined their lives! You ruined my life! When you left, when you hurt all those people, everyone, everyone, thought that I had been in on it, you get that? I was closest to you, so they thought I must have known what you were planning!"

The creatures in the cages started screaming again, but now I was screaming over them. 

"I had to parade up and down the hospital wing, meeting every single person you hurt, while the nurses told me over and over again that it was my fault, because I wouldn’t- because I couldn’t tell them how to fix it! And what do you think Father had to say about it? Do you think he took my side? Or do you think that he blamed me? Constantly! For years! Who can say! You were busy fucking off across the border, while I was stuck with him!”

Mirabelle was staring at me, intent and grim-faced, but I was on a roll now and my mouth went on without me.

“But no, yeah, tell me all about how you didn't ruin her life. Tell me all about how fine she's going to be without your help. You didn’t have to meet any of their families! You didn't have to watch their marriages split up! You were too busy causing new problems for new people to give two shits about me! About any of us!”

There was silence. Or, at least, there would have been, if not for the screams and wails in the cages above us. Bog kept shifting glances between me and Mirabelle, looking deeply uncomfortable.

Mirabelle opened her mouth.

"If you say you're going to murder my dad I will walk out of this room right now."

Mirabelle closed her mouth.

After a long moment of silence, I moved to leave again.

"Wait! I'm sorry, Marianne. Really." I turned back around to face her. She was holding her hands in front of her, with none of her usual theatrics or showmanship. Her eyes were fixed on mine, intent. "I didn't want that to happen. Not to you." She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "If I'd thought I was going to get caught I wouldn't have- I would have brought you with me if I'd- Well, wait, no, if I brought you with me then you'd be locked in jail too, and that's hardly a way to show gratitude." She started fidgeting. "Well, maybe I could have- no, then they really would have thought you were in on it. But maybe if I'd-"

"Mirabelle." I put up a hand. "Just... just tell me that, if you knew what would happen, you wouldn't have done it. If you could go back, you'd do things differently. Just, please."

She looked at me, unblinking, for long moments.

"I mean, that's just basic logic. If I could go back in time while maintaining my current knowledge, I wouldn't have needed to conduct my experiments at all. So I definitely wouldn't have gotten caught."

I didn't say anything.

She screwed her face into a grimace. "Ugh. Fine. Fine." She cleared her throat and spoke clearly, but looked up at the ceiling. "I'd take it all back. Undo my experiments. I love you, you're like the daughter I never had, I am deeply sorry for the pain I've put you through, and I regret not being there for you as you grew up. Etcetera. All terms and conditions apply." She folded her arms and sank to the bottom of the cell. "But I'll have you know, most of those people had it coming."

My lip was quivering, but I didn't let myself cry. I waved a hand to Bog, and he brought the cell back to me and stepped away, apparently glad to be rid of it.

"Thank you," I said, trying not to be obvious about how choked up I was.

She groaned and ran a hand through her not-hair. "It's nothing. Whatever. You're important to me, and all that. But hold on." She put her hands on her hips and gave me a serious look. "The only thing I had that could seriously mess with a person's life was a Luck Potion, and I didn't use those often. They were fun, don't get me wrong, but I had to make sure those people deserved it."

I laughed, and couldn't hold back all of my tears. "I am having a serious emotional moment. Don't you dare ruin this for me by arguing semantics."

"I have a point!" She circled her orb, talking as much with her hands as her mouth. "Most of my fun came from Love Potions, and-" she rolled her eyes, "-I wouldn't do it again because I care about you, blah blah, but look. Love Potions - when administered by a third party - are more distressing for the people around the victim than the victim themselves." She put one hand on her hip and used the other to gesture wildly at everything. "You hate what's happened to Dawn. Boggy hates what's happened to Dawn. But Dawn couldn't care less! Even if the effect ends completely, she won't feel anything but a little embarrassment. Dawn isn't the one whose life will be ruined."

“I just said I've seen marriages split up because of Love Potions." I scrubbed the tears away with one of my arm guards. "Some people would call that life-ruining.”

She shrugged. “They wouldn’t have lasted anyway.”

“Sorry," said Bog, who looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else. "So sorry, I really don't want to eavesdrop, but you said ‘administered by a third party’. What did you mean by that?”

Mirabelle looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, Dawn has a crush on you, right Boggy Bear? But you didn’t give her the Love Potion, it was given to her by someone else. Her crush makes you uncomfortable, and you’re not going to take advantage of her. Therefore: she won’t be hurt in the long run and I get to delight in your discomfort. Win-win.” She smirked at us. “I'll have you know, I’m a responsible agent of chaos, thank you very much.” She raised a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Most of the time, anyway.”

"You've given Love Potions to people who planned to use them for personal reasons, though." said Bog. 

"Not ones that work." 

"You just gave a potion to the elf, knowing that he planned to use it on Dawn and Marianne." Bog pointed at the door to Dawn's cell. "It clearly worked. How is he a third party?"

“Wait, what?” I asked, brain going into freefall as I tried to grasp the concept. “Sunny planned to use the Love Potion on me?”

“That potion wouldn't work.” Mirabelle ignored me and focused on Bog. “Sunny dropped in and told me that he wanted to brainwash one of my favorite people in the world, so I decided to mess with him! I wanted to give him a Luck Potion as punishment, but I couldn't get him to play along." She sighed and shook her head. "It's for the best, I suppose. I gave him modified a Love Potion instead. Sacrificed some of its total capacity and spliced it with Luck Magic. There was no way it could hit one of the targets and fulfill its intended purpose. So it’s fine. Marianne was never in any danger.”

“But Dawn! ” I said.

Mirabelle cocked her head to the side, confused.

Bog translated. “There was a flaw in your theory, Comfit. Dawn was one of the intended targets, and she was affected.”

“And did she fall in love with that little elf? No? Then my plan was a success.”

“Wait, wait wait wait.” I put my hands up as if that would stop the conversation. “Why would Sunny want to use the Love Potion on me? He doesn’t like me that way.”

Mirabelle raised an eyebrow. “Of course he doesn’t. He originally wanted two potions; one for him, and one for his friend.”

“His friend?” I asked.

Bog snatched the orb out of my hand and glared into it. “Why didn’t you think to mention this before?”  

“It didn’t come up.”

"Wait, sorry," I interrupted. “Sunny has friends? ”

“Who was he?” Bog demanded.

She shrugged again. “He didn’t give me a name. Or if he did, I don’t remember it.”

I put my hands up. “Sorry, still reeling, are you sure he has friends ? I have literally never seen him with anyone but Dawn."

“We can ask him ourselves,” said Bog. He passed the orb cell to me, then flew up to one of the larger cages. He hovered there for a moment, then zipped back down to us.

“Comfit.” he said, tersely. “Where did the elf go?”

“I helped him escape.”

“You WHAT?”

He snatched the cell from my hands and shook it again. Mirabelle cackled.

“I did! You'll never find him. Not before he can enact my nefarious schemes!”

He shook the orb harder, but Mirabelle just laughed through it. I placed a hand on Bog’s arm, and looked into the now still cell.

“How long would it take to make Dawn act normal again?" I asked. "Even if she's still affected, could you at least make it so she can go home?”

Mirabelle considered. “Maybe she would do it if Boggy told her to? But that wouldn't work for long. Or if she decided she wanted to, but that doesn't seem likely.”

My lips pressed into a hard line. That wasn’t good enough. Father wouldn’t call off attacks until Dawn was returned, and Roland had an army on the way as we spoke. If we could send her home we could buy time, but she probably wouldn't be able to see Bog again, and it wasn't like he could go with her.

“There has to be something we can do," I said.

Mirabelle crossed her arms. “There is one thing,” she said. “A preventative measure. A potential antidote. But Boggy Woggy won’t let me talk about it.”

“What?” I turned to look at him. “What does she mean?”

“How would I know?” he asked, sharper than I think he'd intended.

Mirabelle continued. “I first became aware of it on that fateful day.”

Bog chucked the orb cell at the wall. Mirabelle squawked indignantly. “Hey!” I smacked his arm and gave him a look. He gave a sheepish apology as I picked the orb back up.

“I’m not going to say anything until Boggy promises not to throw me at any walls!” she yelled. 

“Do you promise?" asked Bog. I shot him another look.

"Can we talk about this somewhere else?" asked Mirabelle. "Some place where there aren't any walls nearby."

Bog groaned, but stood up. "Throne room," he said. "But this had better be good." He trudged back up the stairs and gestured for me to follow. I held the orb cell carefully in both hands, only too happy to leave the cacophony of the dungeon.

The long walk back to the throne room took us through a maze of tunnels and turnarounds. On the way down to the dungeon I had been so preoccupied by thoughts of Dawn that I completely overlooked how labyrinthine the castle was. I was glad Bog was leading the way, and I focused intently on his back as he guided us forward.

Bog had a very nice back. Not that that was important. Broad, armored shoulders and a slender waist. I thought back to our earlier fight. Every swing of his staff was precise and powerful; No wonder I'd barely been able to land a hit on him. He was built for combat.

We arrived back in the throne room, and I shook my head, trying to sort my thoughts back into place. Looking at the room now, I finally realized how badly Bog and I had wrecked it before. The ground was damaged enough that some of the cracks extended up the walls, which themselves had been hacked to pieces when I'd launched that piece of hardwood at Bog's head. Shattered glass covered almost every surface, and one of the chandeliers I had cut down lay crumpled by the far wall.

That had been such a good fight.

"Bold interior design choices, Kingy Wingy." Mirabelle floated in the center of her orb, casting judgmental glances toward Bog's very nice back.  

Bog stepped to the side, allowing me to move past him into the room. I floated over the rubble and sat down on the chunk of wall that I had gouged out. It was a convenient seat, being one of the only things in the room that wasn't covered in glass. Bog followed and sat beside me.

His arm brushed mine.

I tried not to let my voice crack as I spoke. “All right. Mirabelle? Tell us about the antidote.”

“You can barely call it an antidote. But I’ll tell you.” She cleared her throat, and when she spoke her tone had changed from her usual smug theatrics to one more serious and suited to monologues. I remembered it well. She had used this voice when she was explaining chemistry. Or setting fires. It made me feel nostalgic. “Many years ago, The Bog King found that he was in love with a beautiful girl of his own kingdom. A stunning woman, with dappled green skin, and a snub nose, and the most perfect gills you could ever hope to see.” 

I blinked, trying to reconcile this description to my understanding of 'beauty.' And failing.

Bog's face went pale. "We don't need to hear this story," he said, and reached for the orb cell. I held it at arm's length and kept listening.

“But the beautiful maiden didn’t return his feelings. And so the Bog King sought me out and asked me to make him a Love Potion.”

I didn't have time to express my shock. Bog lunged again, and I had to swing the staff around so he couldn't grab it.

“I made him a Love Potion, and he blew the dust into her eyes. But-”

Bog stopped completely and stood up straight, looking at the cell, confused. “No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t.”

“What?” I asked.

“Wait, what? ” asked Mirabelle.

“I was going to,” he said. His voice was strained, and he turned away from us. “I had the potion, she was in the room with me and then… I realized. I realized how horrible my intention was. I realized what sort of a person I was for even considering it. And I did nothing.”

There was a moment of silence as Mirabelle and I exchanged looks.

“So… it’s fine then, right?” I asked. “You didn’t actually go through with it.”

“The fact that I considered it was enough.” He sighed. “Even if you don’t agree, she did. She saw what I was holding, realized what I intended, and…”

“Oh. Oh.”

He shook his head. “I will never forget her face. That look of betrayal. She must have hated me so much, and I deserve all of it.”

I didn’t know what to say. I reached out my hand to touch his.

“That,” he said sharply, “was my own fault. What happened next- ” He leapt forward and snatched the orb out of my hand before I could stop him. “-was the fault of your damn Imp.”

“Ohhhhh,” said Mirabelle, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, no, yeah, a lot of things are making sense now.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“The Imp stole the potion from me and threw it into her face.”

“Yikes.”

“Yes. Yikes.” He let out a breath through his nose and glared at Mirabelle. “It didn’t take effect, luckily.”

“It didn't?" I asked. "Why not?"

He frowned at me. “Why not? Because she realized what sort of a person I was! She had seen what I'd intended. Not even a Love Potion could force her to feel affection for someone as awful as me.”

Mirabelle gasped in outrage.

“Yes it could, dumbass!” she yelled. “How weak do you think my potions are? ‘Aw, boo hoo, I’m the Bog King. A Love Potion could never work for me because I’m just too evil.’ Get over yourself! My potions are way stronger than anything you could throw at them, you pathetic excuse for kindling!”

Bog snarled, and looked very much like he wanted to commit some light murder, so I jumped in. 

“Why didn’t it work?” I asked, as I shoved myself between the two of them. That was awkward, because Bog was still holding the orb cell, so I mostly flung myself against his arm and up in a way that flattered absolutely no one. “What made it ineffective?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Mirabelle didn’t even bat an eye at my position. Bog looked uncomfortable though, so I floated down off his arm. “It’s the only thing stronger than the potion.”

“Fire?” asked Bog.

“Loathing,” I said.

“True Love.” Mirabelle glared at both of us. “Boggy, the thing that stopped you from using the potion is the same thing that protected her from it. She could never love you, because she was already in love with someone else!”

Bog blinked, genuinely surprised, and loosened his grip on the orb.

“You gave him the potion knowing that it wouldn’t work though,” I said.

“I definitely, one hundred percent, did do that, yes. I thought it would be funny." She grinned mischievously. "I was right. ”

Bog sat down, still reeling.

“So True Love can nullify the Love Potion.” I said. 

Mirabelle nodded. “Like I said. If a marriage splits up over it, it wasn’t going to last anyway. And if the victim develops real feelings for someone later, the Love Potion will stop affecting them.”

“That’s… I mean, that's a nice sentiment and all, but it doesn’t really help us,” I said. “If Dawn was in True Love with someone, then the potion wouldn’t have worked. Now that she likes Bog, can she fall in love with someone else?”

Bog, sitting with his head in his hands, answered. “If what I've seen so far is any indication, I'd guess not.”

Dawn hadn't even looked twice at me when I went down there. I couldn't imagine who would be able to distract her, let alone win her over.

“Mirabelle?” I asked. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

She shrugged helplessly. “The only thing that can overpower a Love Potion is another Love Potion. You could try to make her fall for someone more convenient? Or, if you bring me another primrose petal, I could make a new Love Potion, splice it with some Luck magic, and force us into a timeline where she falls for someone better suited to her. Someone she could develop real feelings for.” Mirabelle paused to think. “That doesn't sound very fun though. Very faux-moral. I know I offered, but I take it back, I won't do that.”

I leaned back onto the hardwood and racked my brain. We were thinking too conventionally. This was Dawn we were talking about. We had to get ridiculous.

"If you can't stop the Love Potion, what if you did something else? Something crazy?"

Mirabelle smiled wide. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well..." I cast my thoughts far afield, trying to think of something that Mirabelle hadn't considered yet. "What if you transformed her into something that can't feel love and then transformed her right back? Like, turn her into a rock for five minutes and then turn her back into a fairy. Would the effect of the Love Potion go away?"

Mirabelle gave a full belly laugh. "That's a fun idea, but it's a little outside of my range. Maybe I could make her fireproof and try to burn it out of her?"

"Would that work?"

"Not at all. But it'd look really cool."

I tried harder. "Can you reverse time? Put her back to how she was a day ago?"

"Only if you want her to have amnesia. I lost six years of my life trying that. I wouldn't recommend it."

"What about physically aging her backward?" 

"It wouldn't have any effect on her mental state until she reached reverse-childhood. Trust me, Second Puberty will not do your sister any favors."

Bog looked at both of us. "I have no idea what is happening right now."

"What if you splice a Love Potion with Luck Magic, and it makes her fall in love with something so gross she snaps right out of it?"

"Wouldn't work. She fell in love with Boggy, and she's still affected."

Bog shot her a look. Mirabelle winked at him.

I ignored them and tried to think. How did Luck Magic work again? It had been so long since the childhood mad science lessons Mirabelle gave me. Wasn't Luck Magic just Time Magic by another name or something?

Wait.

I sat back up and took the staff of the orb cell in both hands.

"What if you made a Love Potion with a time limit?"

A manic light shone in Mirabelle's eye. She gestured for me to continue.

“Right now,” I said slowly, explaining to myself as much as I was explaining to her, “Dawn is in love with Bog permanently, unless we shift that love to someone else. But then we have the same problem. If we splice in Luck Magic - splice in Time Magic - and give her a potion that makes her fall in love for just a few minutes before wearing off… Could that work?”

“Alter the duration without changing the intensity.” Her eyes flickered as she ran mental calculations. “If I modify the time limit subprogram that I use for Luck Potions and increase the total capacity…”

As Mirabelle counted on her fingers, I looked back at Bog, tentative and hopeful. He looked completely bewildered, and kept glancing between Mirabelle and me as if he wasn't sure which of us was more dangerous.

Mirabelle kept muttering to herself, and finally reached her decision. “Marianne?” she floated up and pressed one long hand against the web. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

“You can do it?” I asked.

“Do it? Of course I can do it! I just can’t believe I’ve never done it before! A time limit, that’s genius! Think of the mayhem you could cause with that! Oh, especially if someone asks me for a Love Potion and I don’t tell them there’s a time limit- that juicy little moment where they think they’re home free and then the other person wakes up and realizes- ”

“Focus,” said Bog. He moved in beside me to look into the orb. “How long will it take you to get one made?”

She kept counting on her fingers, but waved a hand toward Bog. “It would only take a few minutes, if I had a primrose petal.”

I turned to Bog. Before I could ask, he brought his staff down hard on the cracked stone floor beside us. Two little goblins peeked their heads out from the hall.

“Do you need help, Sire?” asked one. 

“What news is there on the primroses?” Bog asked, authoritatively. He was surprisingly composed, and his agitation barely showed in his voice. “Have they all been destroyed?”

They looked at each other, worried.

“They- well, sir, they were supposed to be, but, you see, the elf -”

“What?” I asked, and stood next to him.

The larger one looked at me and then back at Bog. The Bog King nodded, and the creature answered me.

“There was an elf. The harvesters said he was like a hurl-finned."

"A hurl-finned?" I asked.

"A whirlwind," said Bog. "What happened?"

The smaller one spoke up. "He stole four flowers and escaped into the canopy.”

Bog and I exchanged looks.

“You mean he stole four petals ?” I asked.

“No. Flowers.”

Bog sucked in air through his teeth.

“That’s, uh,” I said, eloquently. “I mean. How?”

“The harvesters said the Imp was with him, sir. They were riding a lizard and flinging love dust everywhere.”

My jaw dropped, and Bog sat back down, head in his hands.

“Riding a- how-”

“Love Potion,” muttered Bog. It took me a moment to understand and when I did I dragged a hand over my face. They love dusted a lizard so they could ride it in battle. I had the realization that I did not understand Sunny at all, I never had, and I never would.

The Bog King waved a hand. “Forget the elf. Are there any petals left?”

“No sire!” said the smaller one. “They’ve all been eradicated, as per your orders!”

Bog grimaced.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“We need to get those primroses,” Bog said. “That's our main priority. Second priority is the Imp. It has the Love Potion, so it's still a threat. The elf is unimportant for now.”

I nodded. “We find one, we'll find the others. ”

The Bog King looked toward the two goblins as he stood up. “Stuff. Thang. You two have done well. Spread the word to as many people as you can: no more primrose petals are to be destroyed. They must be brought to the castle to be used in the antidote. If anyone is caught destroying primrose petals, I will deal with them personally. Is that understood?”

They threw their hands up into a hasty salute, and scampered back out into the hall to spread the message.

I looked down into the orb cell. "Mirabelle?" She looked up from her pseudo-pacing. "We're going to look for Sunny and Imp. Will you be all right here?"

She flapped a hand at me and went back to pacing and counting on her fingers. "I'll be fine. You have fun. Stay safe. Bring back lots of petals."

I stood up and placed the orb cell onto the wood behind me, then turned to Bog. “I’m ready to go if you are,” I said. I was tired, and I knew he must be too, but judging by his performance earlier we'd probably be able to keep pace.

“Just try to keep up,” he said with a smirk.

A smirk. Well now I’d have to show him up, as a matter of principle. I was the only one who could get away with smirking.  

I flew past him, through the recently-crafted skylight and into the night beyond. I could hear him laugh as he flew up behind me. Together, by the light of the full moon, we began our search for Imp.

Chapter Text

My plan was going amazing - even better than I’d hoped. True, Marianne hadn’t had the Love Potion applied properly, but there would be time to sort that out later. As it stood, I was about to lead an army to rescue a princess from no real danger, winning the king’s favor and instating myself at his side. 

My men rode behind me into the dark forest. We were fifty strong, outfitted in armor and weapons, waving the banners of our king, and marching in step. I rode atop my steed, a trained squirrel, twice my body length and more. It would have been impossible to train such a bloodthirsty creature had it been taken from the wild - this one had been reared in fairy care, and knew only the orders it was given. It was completely tame and all but harmless - not, of course, that our enemies needed to know that.

Its amenability, it’s willingness to take direction, won me to it. Every living being could take inspiration from this noble creature. Life was so much more convenient when everyone simply did as I asked them. I would have to find a way to keep it for my own when this little adventure was complete. Though, if things went as well as they had so far, there was a not insignificant chance that I’d simply end up keeping the entire army.

The army. Oh, I’d been born for this. The men marched on my order, stopped at my whims, turned and redirected at my slightest inclination. I had three men marching ahead of me and my mount, swords drawn, clearing the path of the dangerously overgrown brush and fending off any creatures that dared stand in our way. Most were bugs, too foolish to comprehend the might that lay before them, and easily persuaded with a kick to find a new path. No larger creatures capable of comprehending our power dared to cross us.

It had been several hours now, and we had not yet found the evil, hideous, Bog King’s castle. I was certain that was where the princess had been taken - the citizens of the Dark Forest were incapable of the higher intelligence and tactics of my own noble kingdom. They would never put their hostage into a safe house, if, indeed, they had ever considered creating such a building. No, they would put her in their fortified castle and think no further of it.

As I thought thus, I wondered that there ever should have been a peace treaty between our lands. What did we stand to fear from the Dark Forest? Surely, we could have wiped them out in moments, if we so desired. Hm. Once I was king, I would see to the completion of that war. My kingdom would not allow such grotesque weakness to exist.

There was a sound to the left of my procession. Branches crashed, and bushes uprooted as massive, quaking footsteps approached us.

“Company halt!” I yelled, turning my mount to face my men. “Arms drawn! We face the beast!”

The footsteps grew louder still, faster. I moved my mount behind the line of my men, but raised my own sword to instill their confidence. I wouldn’t fight, of course. The role of a leader was to lead , not to be caught up in needless violence himself.

The creature crashed through the underbrush. It was a lizard, easily the length of four men, massive, teeth bared.

I opened my mouth to give the order to charge, but I was interrupted.

“Roland.” The voice was completely calm. The very essence of neutrality. And it came from the lizard.

I gawked, staring at the mighty creature. To be chosen by such a powerful beast… for it to see my worth, and request that I should be its rider! I stood, pushing myself up, off of my squirrel mount, approaching the lizard.

It shifted, and I saw that my rightful position had been usurped. By-

“Sunny? ” I blurted, too shocked to maintain composure in front of my men. He straddled the lizard, sitting above its two front legs, but just behind its neck. There was something off about him. An unfamiliar, shock white creature with a pointed face sat immediately behind him. It looked at me, its eyes betraying a fairy’s intelligence, but it didn’t speak. It was an animal in every respect, but it sat like a man, it met my eyes and stared like a man. I couldn’t understand the presence of the white beast or the tameness of the lizard, but I knew that both only served to indicate that something was wrong. Sunny, the elf from earlier, who so readily did as I asked, so eager to please, so desperate and underhanded, could not have orchestrated this.

I drew my weapon and pointed it at him. My men did not charge, but I raised my hand as a signal that they should be ready.

“There is no need for violence,” said Sunny, voice too calm, face unreadable. “I have a gift for you.”

He reached behind himself, and pulled out an item, teardrop shaped and glowing purple. The Love Potion? “You are supposed to have this. It is imperative that you use it correctly.”

I looked at him, suspicious. He had been taken by the Bog King earlier. He had not only escaped, but also stolen back the potion? No, this had to be a trap. Some arrangement with the Bog King so he could reduce his sentence.

“So you’re done with it, then?” I said, loud enough that my men would hear me. “You’ve brainwashed the princess into loving you with this stolen Love Potion and now that you’ve finished your heinous crime you’ve come to saddle me with the evidence?”

My men booed at the elf. One picked up a rock and threw it toward the lizard. Sunny didn’t move, or even flinch as the rock flew past his head.

He said nothing, and stared at me with those bright green eyes. Had they always been green? The almost pierced the darkness, boring into me. 

I reconsidered. Something was clearly wrong with Sunny, but there was no reason that it should affect me. I was owed the Love Potion after all - it was only through my ministrations that the elf had found the courage to go after it in the first place. As secure as my new position was, leverage with Marianne couldn’t hurt.

“Very well,” I said. “If you’re giving up your foul ways, you’ve come to the right person. Surrender the potion to me and I will speak with His Majesty directly to negotiate a lighter sentence for you.”

He said nothing, but held out the potion.

I flew forward, cautiously. The lizard didn’t snap at me, or move to attack me in any way. Close enough, I gingerly reached forward, snatched the potion out of the elf’s hand, and backed up considerably when the deed was done.

Sunny said nothing. His face didn’t change. What was wrong with him?

“Uh,” I said, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do now. “Now that this transaction is complete, I will allow you to surrender yourself into the custody of my army. You will be imprisoned at the palace to await trial.”

Sunny did not break his eye contact with me, but patted the lizard’s head, and they turned and walked back into the forest. As the lizard’s back turned, I could see its tail clearly for the first time. It was deeply scarred by the base, and its tip was wrapped around the stems of four, complete primrose flowers.

My men and I stood and watched them leave. I could have demanded that we pursue them, capture them. But there was something deeply unsettling about the way the elf had been acting - something unnatural about the lizard that followed his whims. No. I wouldn’t tire my army chasing something with no visible payoff. Not when there was still a princess to rescue.

I flew back to my squirrel, which had waited patiently for me, and raised an arm to my men. “Company march!” I yelled, and we moved once again. 

I looked at the Love Potion in my hand, trying to think of why Sunny had given it to me. Had he gotten Dawn? Did he care so much about promises? Was he compelled by the Bog King? Or did he know something that I didn’t?

I horrible thought struck me. What if it was empty? What if, having been caught once himself, he wanted me to be discovered using it and face his punishment? That was how this would play out: I would attempt to throw the powder into Marianne’s face and she, having seen me do it but not compelled by magic to forgive me, would have me arrested. Well, if anyone believed her.

It was too big of a risk. How could I be sure this wasn’t a trap?
I pulled the golden stopper from the potion. It came off easily. I was about to peer inside, when I realized the danger of such an action while mounted.

“Company halt!” I yelled, raising my arm again. The soldiers stopped in an instant. That was so satisfying. 

Now fully still, I peered one eye into the bottle. Violet dust filled most of the bottle.

It wasn’t a trap. Sunny had just handed me the key to my royal ascension.

“Company march!” I said again, and we moved. 

This day was just getting better and better.

Chapter Text

I followed behind Bog as he led the charge over the narrow bridge and into the woods beyond. I had noticed his agility in our earlier fight, but here among the low-hanging branches and spreading thorns I could actually see the extent of his skill. I had to focus on my surroundings with every flap for fear that I’d entangle my wings, but he moved through the dense underbrush as easy as breathing. Watching him fly in his element put an artistry into his movements that I hadn’t been able to appreciate in the frantic back-and-forth of our earlier engagement. He stood head and shoulders above me but moved more gracefully in this cramped space than I had known was possible.

I went toe-to-toe with this man in his own home. Pride welled up in me at that. He was the most skilled fighter I’d ever encountered, and I had matched him in a no-holds-barred fight. 

“What got you interested in fighting?” I asked, and dodged a jutting branch.

He looked back at me, but didn’t slow. That was fun to watch. He perfectly avoided all upcoming obstacles without even looking.

“I was never very muscular,” he said. “But I had the advantage of height. I knew I could win fights, but only with the proper technique. So I studied. And you?”

Oh shoot, I hadn’t anticipated having the question shot back at me. “I um. Well, I’d always liked the idea of using a sword, but I never had anyone to teach me. And then a year ago… uh… something happened . I suddenly had a lot of time on my hands and really needed distracting, so-”

He stopped short, and I crashed into him in the air. He whirled around, unaffected by the fact that I had just crashed my full body weight into him.

“You’ve only been studying for a year? ” he asked, eyes wide.

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How long have you?”

“Since I was a child!” He flew around me, lifting my arms and poking at the back of my knees, as if there was some riddle he needed to solve. “Who trained you? What is your family paying them? I have to meet them. I know it’s poor form to steal employees, but-”

“I taught myself,” I said. “My father wouldn’t pay for a teacher, so I watched the soldiers training and read manuals from the palace library.”

He stopped circling and hung in the air, staring at me. 

I looked back, feeling awkward.

“You taught yourself,” he said.

“I mean, yeah? How else was I supposed to learn?”

“Your father wouldn’t pay for a teacher.”

“He doesn’t approve of girls having weapons.”

“You- He- Tha-” Bog sputtered. I wasn’t sure I understood what he was getting at. “Does he realize,” he asked, “that you may be a prodigy?”

I snorted. “Just because I’m able to fight you doesn’t make me a prodigy,” I said. “No offense.”

He gave me a serious look and took my shoulders in his hands. His face wasn’t especially nightmarish from up close, though I was sure the dim light played a hand in that. It was a long, thin face, with a hooked nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were deep set, and he was looking at me solemnly.

“You are the most skilled fighter I’ve ever met. That is not an exaggeration, and it has nothing to do with my perception of my own skills. Your talents deserve recognition, and if they have gone unrecognized so far it says more about others’ lack of insight than it does about your abilities.”

What the fuck?

“I- hold on, is this some advanced form of sarcasm or something?”

He gave me a confused look. “No? Of course it isn’t.”

What the fuck???

I was blushing. Oh stars, I was blushing . The dim light was some relief, but how was I supposed to respond to a compliment that earnest?

“...Thank you,” I said, finally. He nodded, and flew onward into the forest. I trailed after him, careful not to snag my wings on anything.

“So what happened?” he asked. “That made you start to study so seriously?”

I opened my mouth to give him some curt, one-word answer. Shenanigans. Horseshit. Nunya. I stopped myself. Bog, for some incomprehensible reason, didn’t seem like he was asking out of politeness or a desire to judge me. He might actually want to know.

For some equally incomprehensible reason, I wanted to tell him.

“…It’s not a fun story. Is that alright?”

“Of course.” He turned again, flying backward to give me his full attention. It was still really fun to watch, but that wasn’t important right now.

“I was engaged. I really loved him, and I thought he loved me. On our wedding day, I found out… I found out he was cheating on me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Ouch,” he said, finally.

I snorted at his underwhelming response. When it became clear that he didn’t have any follow-up, I continued. “It turned out that he had only ever been after my position. Marry the crown princess, become king. I’m sure you know the type. I was just stupid enough to fall for it.”

Bog’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t strike me as stupid. And you’ve struck me quite a bit.” 

I giggled. I giggled. Had I no shame? In a gracious move, Bog ignored my unforgivable outburst and changed his trajectory upward, aiming at a broad branch higher in the canopy and gesturing for me to follow. We landed, and he sat immediately. He was as exhausted as I was. I sat as well, grateful for the rest.

“So what happened to him?” 

“My dad put him in charge of an army.”

Bog nodded sagely. “Let him die on the front lines while maintaining plausible deniability. An excellent execution method on your father’s part.”

I looked at him and waited for a punchline that didn’t come. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about? My dad doesn’t want Roland dead, he wants him to rule the kingdom.”

Bog returned the look I had just given him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, he tried to kick me from the line of succession unless I married him.”

“What? That isn’t how- When was this?”

“Uh… two days ago? I think? Something like that. The past few days have been a blur.”

Bog blinked at me for long moments, trying and failing to wrap his head around the concept. I gave him some time to process. Moments stretched into minutes.

Eventually he reached what must have been a despair horizon and sunk his head into his hands. “Fairies are incomprehensible.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Is it really okay for you to give me this information?” Bog looked genuinely concerned. “I mean, our nations don’t have the best track record. I don’t think private information about succession lines is-”

I shrugged and waved a hand. “It’s basically public knowledge at this point. His Majesty all but made a public declaration.” That was close enough to the truth, anyway. His insistence that I marry Roland in order to be ‘pardoned’ had technically been private, but those guards hadn’t been present by mistake. That news would travel fast. It may as well have been in public.

“I can’t understand this at all.”

“What a mood.”

“No, I mean-” Bog exhaled sharply and steepled his fingers, as though his next few sentences were a delicate puzzle and he couldn’t afford a misstep. “The way you were treated was horrible, that goes without saying. I’m very sorry you had to go through that.” His words took on a staccato quality, as if he was considering every word carefully. “Even if one were to ignore the malice behind your father’s actions, that is, even if he had some moral justification - which he doesn’t, ” he threw in quickly, then resumed his careful pace, “his actions are still…  ill-conceived. He is advertising the idea that manipulating the royal family is a good idea. That it ought to be attempted. If the public sees that this ‘Roland’ could get away with it and get a cushy position for his efforts…” Bog looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. “Pardon the turn of phrase, but if it’s your head on the chopping block, then it’s your father’s foot keeping it there. Even if he achieves his goals, he’d hurt himself in the process. I’ve known King Dagda to be a cold man, but I’ve never known him to be a fool.”

In a purely logical way, I had known that Bog was royalty. His name was ‘The Bog King’ for goodness sake. But when he talked like this - so easily laying out the intricate game of cat and mouse that everyone in my family lived by - it was hard not to be surprised. Everything here seemed so alien, but somehow Bog managed to feel familiar. 

“Ah. That’s, um. That’s my fault, actually.” I said.

“Your fault?”

“I didn’t…” I swallowed. “I didn’t tell anyone that Roland had cheated on me. Not until a few days ago. The public doesn’t see him as a failed manipulator, they see him as the rightful prince regent. And when I called off the wedding, they saw me as someone who wronged him.”

“I see.” Bog looked thoughtful. It was a good look on him. “If I may ask, why did you keep that information private? Not that you were wrong to do so- but I’d like to understand.”  

I didn’t really want to go into this part. I had never admitted it to anyone. I could barely admit it to myself. But Bog… I suspected that he might be the only person I’d ever met that wouldn’t judge me. Or at least, sparing a thought to Dawn, the only person that could wrap their mind around it.

“When I met Roland…” My throat wanted to close around the secret, but I muscled past it. “I thought he was out of my league.”

Bog looked at me, saying nothing, waiting for me to continue.

“I know I’m the crown princess, but, well. He was so handsome and charming, and I… wasn’t. And it felt like everyone knew that. That I wasn’t pretty enough, and I wasn’t smart enough, and I wasn’t enough at all. And then there was Roland, who was everything I was supposed to be, and he liked me. I was enough for him. I thought, since he was worth something, then if he liked me, then I must be worth something too.”

The knot in my throat eased and the words came easier, but now tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. “When I caught him with another woman, I wasn’t completely surprised. Of course I wasn’t enough for him, right? And then, when I found out that he had never loved me at all, that he only wanted my position, that still made sense. But… The thing that got to me…” 

One tear came free.  I scrubbed at it furiously.

“It was our wedding day. We were only a few hours away from being married. He wanted to be king, and he was right there. He only had to put up with me for one more day to get everything he ever wanted. And he couldn’t. Even with everything I could have given him, even if it was only for one day, I wasn’t enough.”

Bog was silent.

“The reason I didn’t tell anybody… for the longest time I told myself that I didn’t want anyone to pity me. But really, I was afraid that, if they all knew the truth, that I wasn’t good enough for him…” I pulled my knees up to my chest. “No one would be surprised at all. They’d hear what he did, and they’d nod in understanding, and they’d ask what I expected. If I really thought that someone like him could care about someone like me.”

I buried my head in my knees. “I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.”

Bog was silent for a long moment, then cleared his throat.

“I am going to place my hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner. Please don’t get startled and throw me off of this tree.”

I laughed. Loud. Somehow the sound got caught in a sob and came out as a bewildered, spluttering guffaw.

Nevertheless, Bog wrapped one arm around my shoulders. It was comforting.

“I am going to say something to you,” said Bog. “Something I have never said to anyone.” 

He paused for proper dramatic effect. 

“I hate Mirabelle Comfit.”

I let out another splutter laugh and tears started to flow down my cheeks.

“It’s true. I despise her more than any other being, living or dead, modern or historical, that I have ever known. I completely and utterly loathe her, and if there is any tiny part of her soul worth saving I would happily let it die with the rest of her.”

Bog reached over with his other hand, took both of my shoulders firmly, and turned me to meet his eyes.

“I need you to understand the degree of my hatred, so that you can understand the significance of what I’m about to say.”

He looked deep into my eyes, expression hard. The moonlight caught his face just right, and in this very particular light, he looked almost handsome.

“I am taking a leaf from Mirabelle Comfit’s book. Do you want me to kill him for you? ”

It would be gratifying to say that I was cool and composed. What actually happened was that I started laughing so hard I almost fell off the tree. 

Bog was fighting off a snicker himself. 

“You are very generous, but no thank you,” I said. I wiped away my tears, now as much from laughter as anything else. “We’re both way too busy to plan an assassination. I can’t ask that from you until we get this Love Potion debacle sorted out.”

“I’ll go ahead and schedule the assassination for immediately after we find the antidote, then.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you.”

We both held straight faces for exactly one second, then broke down laughing. 

“Sorry I went and got all serious on you,” I said. 

“Not at all, I wanted to know. Besides, you heard about my horrifying romantic debacle. At least in your story you’re not the bad guy.”

I sighed and leaned back “Love is the worst.”

He burst out laughing again. “Love is the worst,” he agreed.

“Everyone makes such a huge deal about it, but it’s miserable!”

“Absolutely abysmal.”

“You pretend to be nice and normal for someone who’s either going to die or leave you-”

“And everyone else thinks they’re suddenly entitled to your affairs-”

“Even when you’re not putting on a show for your partner, you have to put on a show for your audience-”

“Which is everyone.”

“And if you have a problem you can’t just talk about it, like friends, no, you have to dance around their ego-”

“And everything the problem means-”

“Because if you’re really in love, then it has to mean something.”

“And of course, if you claim to be uninterested, everyone comes crawling out of the woodwork to give you unsolicited advice.”

I snorted. “You should meet my father.”

“You should meet my mom ,” said Bog.

My eyes popped, and my surprise and confusion was easy to read. 

“You’re surprised I have a mom?” he asked, bemused.

“No, not- I mean. That isn’t-”

He leaned back too, resting his hands on the bark. “She’s constantly trying to find a new partner for me. I feel like half of my royal duty is fending off her horde of bachelorettes with a stick.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wasn’t being literal, but it takes up more of my time than she’d be willing to admit. I think her record was twelve young ladies in one day. And then there was that week where she, ah, shall we say, misunderstood the nature of my reticence and started bringing in young gentlemen. ”

I laughed at that, and he gave me a shrewd look. “I’m glad you find it entertaining, at least.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just surprised. My father would never offer me young ladies.”

“Not being offered young ladies? Would that your problems were mine.”

“You’d rather be told to go find some big, strong man to do your job for you? Would that your problems were mine.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Down with love,” said Bog, quietly.

“The motion is seconded,” I said. “Down with love.”

I let out a long breath and kicked my legs out, letting them swing in the air below our branch. Obviously the conditions were less than ideal, but between the spar and the moonlit, heartfelt discussion, this had been a surprisingly pleasant evening. 

The moon was lower in the sky now, not quite down, but closer than not. I gave my wings a few test flaps, then turned back to my new conspirator in the war against love.

“Are you ready to take off again?” I asked. He nodded, and we left the branch.

The flying became a little less cramped now, though whether that was just the way of this part of the forest, or whether Bog had chosen a more accommodating path on my account, I couldn't be sure.

The moonlight softened the harsh edges of the forest. Dangerous spider webs glowed like phantasmal lace, impossible to miss. Even the trapping plants from before, leering jaws aimed upward, took on a new life in the moonlight. Bog hovered by one, poked it with his staff to close it, and stood upon it’s threaded teeth, offering me a hand.

 I remembered the terror of my first visit here only distantly. It was hard to remember something so unfounded in its unpleasantness, compared with the present. 

This new perspective was cut short, as we both noticed an element out of place. In the distance, glinting in the low moonlight, a line of armored men, fifty or more, marched toward the Bog King’s castle. They were too distant to make out any faces clearly, but I had my suspicions as to their leader, and there was no question of their purpose.

“They’re closer than I thought they’d be,” I said.

Bog’s face was dark. “You knew they were coming?”

I nodded. “Should we go back?” I asked. “We don’t have Sunny yet, but-”

“I’m going back,” he said, shortly. “You do whatever you want.”

He turned on a needle point and headed back in the direction we’d come from, not looking at me at all.

What was that about?

I followed after him, but he made few allowances now for my larger wingspan, and it was a struggle to keep up.

“Wait!” I yelled. He stopped, and whirled on me, barely contained fury on his face.

“You’ve done it,” he said. “You’ve succeeded. You’ve lured me from my stronghold long enough for your army to approach without my knowledge. You need not rub salt in the wound by tormenting me with your presence.”

My jaw dropped in shock, but I recovered quickly. “Wait a minute! Leaving the castle was your idea!”

“Formed under your influence! I’m such a fool! I can’t believe I actually believed-”

“HEY!” I yelled, just to get his attention.

He looked down at me with a look of such burning contempt that I was tempted to back down. Or to punch first. Instead I gave him the flattest look I could, despite my mounting frustration.

“I literally tried to murder you with a sword less than an hour ago. Do you really think that I’m some secretive double-crosser? Does that seem like my style to you?”

He raised a finger to my face to argue his point, but then lowered it, furrowing his brows.

“Or,” I continued, “do you think that maybe my father sent troops because you kidnapped one of his daughters, and that somehow, through some completely bizarre and unlikely turn of events, that army happened to show up within an hour of me?” I had been taught time and again that sarcasm was not a particularly potent skill of persuasion, but I couldn’t hold it back. “I have no idea how something like that could possibly happen, given that our kingdoms share a border and you attacked the royal family directly, but -”

“All right, you’ve made your point,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Have I? Or do you need to fly off and leave me alone in the middle of a spooky scary forest while you mull it over?”

“I’m sorry . It’s been a long night, things are tense, I’m not thinking as clearly as I should. You’re right. I apologize.”

I… I didn’t really know what to do with that. I was so used to denials and mind-games that, even though Bog had been completely reasonable about everything else so far, I had gotten hostile in a way I hadn’t fully intended.

I felt like a bit of an ass, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been sarcastic. You’ve got plenty of reasons to distrust me.”

He gave me a look, his face unreadable. “Shall we return to the castle, then?” 

I nodded, contrite, and he led our return through a broader path.

Chapter Text

The moon was just about to set when the two horrible little creatures led me into the throne room, along with three of my men. I nodded and they disappeared down various corridors, dispersing themselves widely to wait for my signal. I had more men surrounding the outside, of course. I left about half of my troops to act as a distracting central force, then sent the rest to surround the castle, cutting off anyone that tried to escape. If anyone could find Dawn, or any other significant hostages, then my victory would be assured.

The throne room was hideous, even by Dark Forest standards. The throne itself, aside from being made of bone, was coated with shattered glass from the broken skylight. Thorned light fixtures dangled from the ceiling in odd places, and some had already crashed to the ground. A massive chunk of the wall had fallen into the floor and cracked it, and some of those cracks extended across the floor and into the walls. If the entire castle was this unstable, my plan might go even better than I’d hoped.

There was no one around except the two tiny attendants, both somewhat amphibious-looking.

I walked over, wiped the broken glass off the smooth seat, and sat down on the throne. It wasn’t bad really. It wasn’t comfortable, of course, it was made of bone. The throne in the Fairy Kingdom was bound to be much more comfortable. But bone or not, something about sitting on a throne always felt right.

One of the goblins nudged the other one. “Do something,” it whispered. I smiled to myself. Even foreign underlings knew that I wasn’t someone that could be ordered around. I had never experienced something so gratifying.

The Bog King appeared in the skylight and descended into the room. I stood as he entered, but didn’t step away from his throne. Surprisingly, Marianne floated in behind him. 

I had seen her flail and thrash away from the palace guards earlier, but I hadn’t expected her to be here. She was supposed to take one look into enemy territory and run back home to be impressed by my heroism. Or maybe get stuck in a spiderweb or something. How had she made it all the way to the castle? Maybe enemy forces had captured her and brought her here?

The moment she saw me she went for her sword. The Bog King raised a hand. She looked at him and let go of her weapon. 

What was that about?

“I’m here to collect the princess,” I said, loud and daring. I remembered that Marianne was here, instead of at the palace where she was supposed to be. “The princesses...es.”

“The younger princess cannot be allowed to leave until the Love Potion is destroyed, and those who conspired to use it on her have been apprehended,” said the Bog King.

I paused and waited for him to continue. “The younger princess?” I asked. He nodded. So they didn’t know that Marianne had been a target. Their defenses might be down around her.  “What about the elder?” I asked.

He looked at Marianne. “You’re free to go whenever you wish, but I will offer you protection if you want to stay.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m staying.”

He looked back at me. “That’s settled then.”

I looked between the two of them. They were weirdly in sync. Marianne was violent and uncontrolled, I knew that firsthand. And she was particularly sensitive about her sister - when we were together I couldn’t count how many scrapes she’d gotten into trying to protect Dawn. So why was she allying herself with the man that had kidnapped her? If anything, I would have expected Marianne to get herself killed trying to take him in a one-on-one fight, not come to some weird arrangement with him.

Marianne had become completely unpredictable. Before I’d thought it was a fluke; now it was a pattern. Even if I could put her under the effects of a Love Potion, she might be too unruly to marry.

Speaking of...

“How about a trade?” I asked. I reached behind me and unclasped the Love Potion from its place on my belt loop and held it out. Marianne flinched back and drew her sword in an instant. The Bog King just looked curious. “I’ll give you the potion,” I said, “and you give me Dawn.”

He considered it, then shook his head. “With her would-be attackers still on the loose, that’s too great a risk.”

“But if you have the Love Potion, her attackers can’t do anything,” I said. I swayed the Potion back and forth, trying to entice them to come closer.

Marianne stood on tiptoes and whispered something to the Bog King, I couldn’t hear what. He nodded and folded his arms.

“I’ll have Dawn brought here. Once she arrives, you hand me the potion, and you two can leave together.”

I thought about it. That seemed to be fine. Once Dawn entered the room, I could dust both her and Marianne if I wanted to. I only needed one princess, but an insurance policy wasn’t a bad thing. Then Marianne and I could kill the Bog King together. Win this war once and for all. Or maybe I could love dust the Bog King and rule two kingdoms? But that might raise too much suspicion. No matter. I’d sort it out later.

“I agree,” I said. The Bog King hit the bottom of his staff on the stone floor, and the two goblin attendants from earlier reappeared. 

“Have Princess Dawn brought to me. Tell her that I want her to keep her eyes closed until I give her leave to open them.”

That was a stumbling block. No cause for concern though. Scatterbrain Dawn would uncover her eyes within a few seconds. 

The two goblins ran off to fetch her, leaving the three of us in an awkward silence.

“So, are you two, like…?” I asked, and gestured a vague ‘together’ sort of motion with my fingers. The thought nearly made me throw up in my mouth - imagine being replaced with that - but it was an interesting thought puzzle trying to figure out what specifically was going on there.

“Mind your own affairs,” said the Bog King.

“Die,” said Marianne.

I nodded to myself. I still didn’t understand at all, but a good leader had to put on the appearance of understanding everything. “You can do a lot better, Buttercup. I stand as proof of that.”

“Die painfully,” she said.

The Bog King gave her a dumbfounded look. “Wait, is this him? ” he asked. Marianne let out a deep, pained sigh and nodded.

I puffed up a little bit at that. She talked about me when I wasn’t around. She was still totally hung up on me.

The two goblins reentered the room, leading Dawn forward by tugging on the hem of her dress. She had both hands covering her face and stepped forward gingerly step by step.

“Keep your eyes covered and don’t move until I say,” called the Bog King. Dawn stopped in the doorway, fluttering her wings excitedly. 

He reached out a hand to me, so I could pass over the Love Potion.

This was going to be tricky.

I had to buy time for Dawn to uncover her eyes. I didn’t want to piss off the Bog King without my army behind me. Marianne, on the other hand? I knew I could rile her up.

“You know, Buttercup, if you come with me I’m sure I could persuade your father to take you back. If you can convince me that you feel grateful enough, I could even get him to overlook your attack on the royal guards.”

The Bog King’s eyebrows furrowed and he shot a glance at Marianne.

“Oh, hadn’t you heard?” I couldn’t risk upsetting him, but I could absolutely inform him that his new 'friend' wasn't all she seemed. “Our perfect princess isn’t as innocent as you might think. She broke one guard’s leg on her way here and concussed another. The King is furious. ”

He processed this information. “Why,” he asked, “would anyone hire guards that are weaker than the person they’re meant to protect?”

“Yes, that’s right, she- wait, what?”

“Nepotism,” answered Marianne. “The positions are mostly given to sons of prominent families. They go through basic training, but most of them are pretty weak fighters.”

“Ah. That makes your accomplishment somewhat less impressive, but nevertheless, congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Neither of them took their eyes off me. 

“Aren’t you upset ?” I asked. “She's lied to you! She’s a disgrace! The King himself is ashamed of her!”

The Bog King’s expression darkened. “Marianne, I made you an offer earlier. I would like you to know that it still stands.”

“Just promise it won't be quick and easy.”

“We could throw him in with a certain other prisoner and watch what happens.”

Marianne chuckled. “You really have taken a leaf out of her book.”

What were they talking about? Why couldn’t I understand Marianne anymore?

The Bog King grimaced and leveled his staff at me. “Roland of the Fairy Kingdom,” he said, in what was unmistakably the voice of a king making a decree. Man, I couldn’t wait until I could do that. “You have insulted my guest and are no longer welcome in my home. Conduct the transaction immediately or leave; you will not survive any other course of action.”

Dawn’s eyes were still covered.

I had to make up my mind. Settle for rescuing Dawn, or try to love dust all of them?

Marianne inched closer to the Bog King, keeping a steady eye on me. It was infuriating. I had come all this way through a treacherous, evil forest to prove my heroism and rescue her sister, and she still distrusted me.

That decided it. Marianne was a dangerous rogue element. Unless she was under my control, she couldn’t be allowed to wander freely. I would make her pay the price of distrusting me. 

In one motion I unstoppered the bottle with my thumb and lunged, flinging its contents into her face. At the same instant, the Bog King stepped in front of her, arms spread wide. The violet powder sprayed harmlessly against his chest and, almost before I could process what had happened, he brought his staff up fast. I lurched backward, barely dodging what might have been a deadly blow. 

Behind him, Marianne leapt into the air and flew away toward the ceiling. Hm. I’d have to chase her down later, but at least she knew when she was outmatched.

The Bog King stalked toward me. I ducked behind the throne, using some of the decorative backing for cover. That long staff may have given him reach in the open, but in this cramped space it only meant that he couldn’t hit me.

Dammit. The whole attempt had been a bust. I hadn’t lost every edge - I still had the potion after all, never mind my army -  but I didn’t have the element of surprise anymore.

“I called it!” yelled Marianne from the air. “I told you he’d try to use it!”

Ah. So maybe I hadn’t had that in the first place.

“Sword!” yelled the Bog King, and Marianne threw her weapon down to him. He caught it, and started to jab it through the narrow spaces where his staff wouldn’t fit. 

What was with these two? I pulled out my own sword and tried to stab back, but his longer arms and my poor leverage made it impossible to hit anything vital. 

Enough was enough. I refused to be bested by this Dark Forest animal. 

As the Bog King pulled back to thrust again, I turned and grabbed a wedge of deadwood from the splintered wall and tore it free. The Bog King stabbed down at me, and I rushed forward, cramming the wooden piece into the same opening.

I had sized it right. The hole was stopped and the sword, wedged to the side, was stuck. 

The Bog King cursed, and I pushed myself out from the cramped cover and up into the air. I still had the potion. Marianne wasn’t actually useful in combat, but even an incompetent ally could put a two-on-one fight in my favor. 

Marianne floated, unarmed, by one of the larger light fixtures.

“Bog!” she yelled. Unable to free the sword I had trapped, he let go of it, grabbed his staff, and threw it through the air like a javelin. She caught it one-handed, twisted it around herself, and leveraged it at me. 

I laughed openly. I had seen her attempts at swordplay near the end of our relationship, and with a bladed weapon she might have at least endangered me as well as herself. But this? The staff she was holding was half again as tall as she was. Even if she had been competent, there was no way for her to use a weapon this size.

But besting her wasn't my goal. I wanted to use the potion, and to do that I'd have to get closer. I moved in with my own sword, expecting an easy victory.

She didn’t move as I expected.

Marianne was supposed to swing the thing wildly, throwing off her balance. Instead she abused the weapon’s length. She held it two-handed, near the bottom instead of around the middle, and jabbed at me whenever I approached. She wouldn’t be inflicting any winning blows with technique like that, the poor simpleton. But my superior skill didn’t matter if I couldn’t get near her. 

She was still an amateur, though, and I could overtake her.

I lunged, and this time she behaved correctly, jabbing the staff at my chest. I stopped short, grabbed the end of it and pulled, trying to send her sprawling toward me. 

She misbehaved again. Marianne let go of the staff completely, and it fell to the floor below. Still, problem solved. She was unarmed. I charged.

Before I could get close enough to dust her, she grabbed one of the chained light spikes and sent it hurtling in my direction with her full force behind it. It caught me right in the chest and launched me backwards into the far wall, limbs splayed. The wall cracked at my impact and I sputtered for breath. Without my armor the blow might have killed me. 

The Bog King had finished freeing the sword, and dashed into the middle of the room. In quick succession, he picked up his staff, threw Marianne her sword, flew up, and cracked his staff into my wrist. The bone nearly snapped, only my arm guard kept it in one piece. 

I yelled in pain and I dropped my weapon. Marianne caught it before it hit the ground - why were these two both so good at catching swords? - and flew up to cross both swords over my throat.

“Drop the Potion,” she said, teeth bared like some wild thing. 

I tried to get a lungful of air and struggled through the pain. That chandelier had done a number on me.

She pressed the swords closer against my skin. "Now."

There was no time for a full breath. I'd have to use what I had.

“GO!” I yelled into the empty air, and for a moment there was only silence. Had I been too quiet?

The rumbling started, and if I'd had more air in my lungs I would have cackled.

Loud thuds and crashes emanated from far below us in the bowels in the castle. Cracks shifted up the walls, and existing cracks widened. Debris showered down from the ceiling. All at once larger chunks of the room started to fall, crashing into the floor and knocking holes into it. 

Marianne and the Bog King looked around in horror. I could dust Marianne right now, but she still might accidentally cut my throat before it kicked in. I waited patiently. 

“Keep him here,” said the Bog King. “I’ll get Dawn.”

He flew downward, dodging falling chunks of wood, leaving me alone with Marianne and two swords. She didn’t move a muscle, keeping her eyes locked on my face the entire time. 

So focused on my face, in fact, that she didn’t take my feet into account. I kicked her hard in the stomach, knocking her backward in the air. 

I expected her to charge me. She was supposed to charge me. That was when I was going to use the Love Potion and shift the scales back in my favor.

Instead, she tucked one of her swords back into the sheath at her side and didn’t move toward me at all. She waited there, one sword out and ready, and with one hand pressed firmly over her eyes.

Chapter Text

This was either going to go really well, or really, really badly.

I couldn’t see. Roland was somewhere in front of me with a Love Potion, the bastard. I was armed with his sword, which was heavier than my own. I wanted to use mine, but it wasn’t possible: the sheath on my hip was too small to accommodate Roland’s larger sword, and if I let go of this sword then he might be able to grab it. He had to stay unarmed, or I was done for.

I had practiced swordplay while blindfolded before, and on equal footing I was sure I could beat Roland. But this? He could still see, and the castle was collapsing around us. I was exhausted, using an unfamiliar weapon, and I could only use one arm. 

I had a hand over my eyes, and it was staying there. I didn’t know how much dust it took for the Potion to take effect, but I knew that Roland would be willing to throw it at me, eyes open or not. And I just knew that Love Potion dust was the sort of thing that would get stuck in your eyelashes. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I won this fight only to blink later and fall in love with a toadstool. The hand stayed.

There was a sound above me and the air shifted. I dodged right. There was a whoosh as something heavy fell past me and crashed to the floor below.

Dammit. Now that I had moved I couldn’t be certain where Roland was. How was I going to find him in this noise?

“How did you just do that?” he blurted. Up and to the left. Perfect. I lunged. 

The sword struck wood. I heard him gulp. “Hold on, Buttercup, that was-” Left now. I slashed. “That was my ear, fuck!”

Another noise from above. I dodged right, away from Roland. Not far enough, though. Something hit my shoulder, hard. I cursed.

I pushed higher into the air, listening for anything else that might fall on me. Higher was better. Closer to the skylight if I needed to escape, and whatever did hit me wouldn’t be going as fast. From my new position, I readied my sword and refocused.

Where was he?

There, beside me. The sound of plate mail scraping at the joints. I lunged, and I was met with a face full of dust. I blew out and sputtered, trying and failing to keep it out of my mouth. I hoped this stuff wasn’t poisonous. I thrust forward again, striking at air. 

The plate mail sound again. Above me. I raised my sword and blocked as he struck down at me. Metal crashed against metal.

Wait, what? Metal? But he wasn’t supposed to have a weapon!

I blocked again. The same sensation. I got it- his arm guard -no, gauntlet? -whatever. He was clubbing his arms down at me, trying to bludgeon me out of the air.

I thrust upward. The sword’s point struck smooth metal and sheared away to one side. My heart pounded as I realized what that meant. His breastplate. I almost laughed out loud. If he hadn’t been wearing armor, that hit would have gone through the center of his chest.

“What is wrong with you?? ” he screamed. Oh, he sounded scared.  I knew that spite was a powerful motivator, but no one had ever told me that it felt so good. 

The feeling was short-lived. Something slammed into the side of my head. Fist? Foot? Even with my eyes closed I was seeing stars.

I jabbed upward again. Another miss. 

Another blow to the head. My ears rang, and I nearly dropped the sword. I was risking a concussion at this rate.

“Marianne! ” It was Bog, yelling from somewhere far below me. “We need to get out of here! ”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I let myself plummet backward, wings tucked in and dropping fast. I could hear the sound of the cracking stone floor approaching fast.

“Now!” yelled Bog.

I flared out my wings and shot toward his voice, parallel to the floor. I still couldn’t risk opening my eyes. Roland had been above me when I fell back, and depending on how quickly he had reacted he might still be close.

“Bog?” I yelled into the chaos. 

“Over here! ” His voice came from ahead of me, to the right. I veered toward it, hoping nothing hit me from above. I could hear crashing on either side of me as chunks of the walls crashed through the floor, and then through the storey below, but nothing got any closer than the very tips of my wings. 

Wait, the storey below us was...

“There are still people in the dungeons!” I yelled to Bog.

“There’s no time!” he yelled back. His voice was much closer now. “Dodge left!”

I gave a hard push, wrapped my wings around myself and rolled to the left, reopening them before I hit the floor. Wind rushed past where I had been a moment before. There was a crash, and I flew past it, toward Bog’s voice.

I didn’t slow down as I approached, but I didn’t bump into him. I almost didn’t realize I had caught up with him. The only thing to alert me was the buzzing, almost imperceptible in the din of the collapsing castle. His wings, all four, beating so quickly that they blended together.

“We’re almost out,” he said, tense, but much more calmly than I could have managed. “Uncover your eyes, but move behind me.”

I uncovered my eyes and scrubbed the dust off the back of my hand for good measure. Now that I could see again, it was clear just how bad the castle was. Even here in the narrow hallway leading outside - a space that should have been structurally sound by any interpretation - cracks formed up the wall and down the length of the ceiling. Before us, the bleached white jaws of the entrance quaked ominously.

We both saw the danger and sped up. My wings, my back, my lungs, every part of me burned. Despite my training over the past year, I could barely keep up. Bog sped ahead, clutching Dawn in his arms. Dawn was clutching the two little goblins that had been in the throne room. 

I fell behind. I tried desperately to catch up, but my head was pounding and I just didn’t have the strength.

The jaws ahead of us cracked from the weight of the collapsing castle. One supporting side fell, cracking, crushing, grinding, then slipping down. Under the new strain of asymmetry, the other gave way only a moment later.

Bog dashed forward. Before the jaws could completely collapse and bar our exit, he took Dawn in both arms, threw her headlong out into the darkness, gripped the two largest fangs, planted his feet, and held the entire collapsing arch open. 

“Marianne!” he yelled, pained.

I hurried, but my exhaustion had me fighting through sludge. I was so, agonizingly slow.

I reached him. He was quaking where he stood, straining under the weight of his colossal burden.

Dawn, meanwhile, had flown back in and had wrapped her arms around his waist, offering encouragement. He gave me a desperate look.

I grabbed her and tugged her along. “Dawn, c’mon. We need to shift this thing from the outside!”

She looked from me to Bog, who barely managed a nod, and she followed me back outside.

The skull was massive. I could imagine an army shifting it, but for me and Dawn alone? It was cracked in more places than just the sides, and the damage was spreading by the second. I could try to hack pieces away to lighten the load, but how long would that take? How would Bog bear the shifting weight?

I chucked Roland’s heavy sword down into the abyss and used both hands to grab a hole in the skull’s snout. Dawn grabbed the one beside me, and we pulled upward as hard as we could.

I felt like my wings would come off my back. Before that, my fingers would rip themselves from my hands. Every blood vessel in my head wanted to explode at once. The strain was immense.

Dawn strained even harder than I did. She pushed like her life would end if she surrendered a hair’s breadth to gravity. 

With one final heave, one strong shift, Bog shot out from underneath us and rolled and then sprawled on the bridge just beyond the door.

The jaws clamped shut. The castle was splintered beyond recognition now, and the bridge started to give way.

Dawn and I were at Bog’s side in an instant, tugging at his arms, pulling him away from the impending ruin. He buzzed weakly alongside. We all crashed to the ground on the far bank, unable to do anything but watch. Dry roots cracked against musty, molding ones. The castle’s supports could no longer take the sheer weight, and the entire structure collapsed into the darkness below. 

“All those people,” I whispered.

“My mom,” said Bog.

We stared down into the dark for long minutes, hoping for some sign of movement. 

There was none. 

We sat on the grass together. Dawn insinuated herself into the space beneath Bog’s arm, I pressed next to her, and Bog reached over and took my free hand in his. Behind us, the two little creatures Dawn had rescued were kissing the earth and clutching each other. 

Above us, the sky lightened with the first hints of daybreak.

We laid in silence, all too exhausted to move. It only lasted a few moments. Something rustled in the woods behind us. 

“Oh no, please, no,” mumbled Bog. “I can’t deal with anything else right now.”

Dawn raised her head and squinted into the darkness. “I don’t see anything.”

The noise came again. It sounded like footsteps. Dozens of footsteps. I raised my head and looked too, but I couldn’t see anything.

“I know I hear something, but there’s nothing there,” I said.

The nothing rustled again.

Bog groaned and stood up. Dawn rose too, still clinging to his side, and he took several unsteady paces toward the shadowed space between the trunks of the trees. I stood too, ignoring my screaming muscles. As Bog and Dawn inched forward, I stayed where I was and squinted, shading my eyes against the growing light in the east.

Someone was approaching through the darkness. Light glinted off of their armor. A soldier.

Roland’s army. 

I reached for my sword, but there was more movement. There were soldiers here, yes, but most of the approaching crowd was made up of others. Frogs. Mushrooms. A few fairies. And from the back, the bulk of the noise was made up by a massive lizard.

No way. No way. It couldn’t be, right?

Something grabbed my arm from behind and spun me around.

Roland stood in front of me. The Love Potion was uncorked, and my eyes were wide open.

Chapter Text

I was still in love with Roland. Of course I was still in love with Roland. I’d been in love with Roland the entire time. All those months of needless pining, just because I hadn’t been willing to admit it to myself. I could be so foolish when I was upset.

...why had I been upset?

There was noise and panic behind us. Dawn was yelling, Bog was… huh. I’d somehow forgotten about him. A strange sensation. I knew he’d been sitting next to me only a moment before, but the revelation of my feelings toward Roland had somehow knocked his existence out of my head. I remembered Bog. Sword fights, compliments. Theatrical, but steady. A nice sort of fellow. I could learn to like someone like him. 

Not, of course, that he had anything on Roland. 

I ignored the noise behind us, the people emerging from the woods. Soldiers, goblins, someone riding a lizard. None of them were important. The priority here was my true love.

His golden hair shone bright in the breaking sunlight. His winning smile reached his eyes. Green eyes, so faint they were almost silver. The most handsome man in my kingdom, or any other. A man my father could approve of. The man who had won my love, who had won it from the first moment he spoke to me, ever since he made me feel like the most special woman in the world. He had my heart completely.

I didn’t have his.

That thought jabbed like a needle through my eye socket. I backed away instinctively, away from Roland, my other half, my perfect-

He didn’t want me.

I clutched at my eye as I took another step back. Was it bleeding? Why did it feel like it was bleeding? Why did my head hurt?

“Marianne?” he asked. “Buttercup? You all right?” He raised his arm out to me. The light glinted off of his green armor - green, like his beautiful eyes - and drew my eye to the Love Potion in his extended hand.

This was fine. He wanted me. Of course he wanted me. He’d used a Love Potion to get me, that was more than enough proof. He said my name and called me Buttercup so he definitely wanted me this was fine this was fine.

He doesn’t want me. He had me. All he wants is my position. All he wants is my devotion.

Then I’d give it to him. It was fine.

There was a shift, a thud, Dawn was screaming. Screaming about Sunny? What did Sunny have to do with anything?

I tried to claw the needle out of my eye. I could feel it there, digging its way into my skull, but my nails couldn’t quite reach it. Roland grabbed my hand and pried it away. Didn’t he understand how much this hurt? But the pain was fine if it meant he was touching me. His hand on mine.

He used a Love Potion. He forced me to love him.

That was fine. It was for my own good, probably. I fell to my knees. Roland, perfect Roland, tried to hoist me back up. Was I screaming? Or was that someone else? It was hard to tell. 

He forced me to love him, but he doesn’t love me.

That was fine. There wasn’t anything he could do about that. It wasn’t his fault that I wasn’t interesting. It wasn’t his fault that I couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t make himself love-

HE COULD.

He could.

He could.

That

That

That 

That wasn’t okay.

My hand shot out and took his throat, squeezing, crushing the life from his precious perfect lungs. He gasped, trying to suck in air, failing, scrabbling useless fingers against my hand, breaking skin, drawing blood. I stood up. More needles joined the first, I couldn’t see out of one eye, everything hurt so bad so bad so bad it needed to stop and only he could make that happen, give me peace, just let me have this give in and give me the opportunity to sink down let it happen let the pain stop stop please please let this stop.

“Make-” I choked out. He choked harder. I breathed in through my nose, ripped the words from my core.

“Make. Yourself. Love. Me.”

He looked at me, eyes frantic, darting between the manic, deathly pain in my eye, my eye, what was happening to my eye, the darkness was spreading, was I dying? Everything hurt so much. And the Love Potion in his hand. Free hand. Free to move, not choking, not punching, his poor face, I’d punched him in it, one eye still bruised, was it mine? His ear was gushing blood and his face was turning purple like his eye I did that to his eye why did I do that and his arm wasn’t moving he wasn’t moving he wouldn’t do it he wouldn’t do it.

“Potion.” I said. “You forced me. Force yourself. Do it.”

He dropped the bottle.

Hands empty eyes emptying he didn’t want me he didn’t want me he didn’t do it didn’t do it he would die if I didn’t put him down, he needed air I loved him so much he needed air he would never love me I couldn’t let him die.

I dropped him.

He collapsed, gasping, clutching his throat, fallen to the unforgiving floor. Violet sparkling dust glinted like a thousand daggers into my fading sight.

The Love Potion was right there.

I could do it for him. 

I could make him love me. 

I wouldn’t have to worry about other women, I wouldn’t have to worry that he didn’t love me, I wouldn’t have to worry that I wasn’t good enough, I wouldn’t have to worry have to worry have to worry have to worry

I’d remember

I’d remember that I wasn’t enough for him

I’d remember that even when he wanted me he didn’t want me

Even when he forced my hand I wasn’t enough

The look of terror in his eye in my eye, what was wrong with my eye when he dropped the bottle

I’d remember that anything he did for me, with me, to me, my fault, my fault, I tricked him into it, I made him love me when he shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t

No

This wasn’t my fault   It wasn’t my fault he was cruel   Cruel? He wasn’t cruel, he was perfect   I stood up - when had I fallen?- staggered

I took the Love Potion

Roland perfect stupid unkind beautiful Roland flinched away   fled away   flew away   away across the cliffs and down into the ruin   and   I did not follow

I flew away from him

It hurt so badly so badly so badly but

but

I had loved him the first time he hurt me

And I had loved him the first time I left

The pain in my head magnified   Fistfuls of needles   glass   daggers   foils   swords   ramming their way into my eyes   my ears   the base of my skull   jabbing   crowding   ripping   shredding   My thoughts folded in on each other and twisted and pulled and folded again   I was being torn to pieces and soon there would be nothing left

I screamed and kept screaming

I wouldn’t survive this

I couldn’t survive him

I would die without him

I didn’t want to die

I didn’t want to die

I didn’t want to die

I still wanted to see what trouble Dawn would get up to and see what I had left to learn about fighting and what Bog could teach me and whether staves were as fun as swords and whether my father was right about me and whether Mirabelle really wanted me around and whether I could finally ignore the whispers and what would happen to Sunny and I wanted wanted wanted so much more than the thing that was killing me and

This pain wasn’t mine

I still held the Love Potion   tightly too tightly   knuckles white   glass cracking I just needed this to stop I didn’t want to die this hurt so badly so badly make it stop

I needed someone I could trust someone that wasn’t Roland Roland Roland Roland Bastard Roland someone steady someone dependable someone someone

I took the Love Potion   raised it in my hand   looked at Bog with the barest sliver of sight I had left

and threw its dust into my face

Bog was handsome, in an atypical sort of way. Gaunt features, but symmetrical. Tall and strong. We had interests in common. He was dependable and thoughtful.

More importantly, my eye socket was no longer the mortar to an armory’s pestle and my brain was largely unblended. The fact that I could see Bog’s handsome, untraditional face was more overwhelming than any of his features.

It was strange. The sheer, blissful numbness of loving Bog rendered Bog himself secondary. 

“Oh good. It worked,” I said, and let myself hit the ground, completely exhausted.

Chapter Text

What the fuck was I supposed to do??

I had only turned away from Marianne for a moment. Everyone had come out of the woods: the soldiers, the prisoners, the servants, my mom, and somewhere between the joyous realization that they had somehow survived and the instant that followed, Roland had inserted himself into the picture.

Before I could react, before she could cover her eyes, Marianne had been dusted.

And started screaming, clawing at her eyes, and attacking Roland. 

Dawn screamed for her sister, and the damned elf that started this whole mess fainted and fell off of the lizard and then Dawn started screaming for him. And then of course Roland was screaming, or attempting to, because he was being throttled by the most terrifying fairy I had ever beheld.

I didn’t know what to do. 

Stop Marianne? Whatever Roland got, he deserved. If I stepped in, it would be to help Marianne dispose of his corpse. But she didn’t seem especially happy with the situation either.

Dawn was wailing and sobbing and shaking the unconscious elf. The assembled crowd - caught without context between two screaming fairy princesses - shifted on the verge of panic.

I didn’t know what to do.

Roland flew away. Marianne clutched at the Love Potion, stumbled forward, grabbed at her head, wailed in agony.

Dusted herself.

Looked at me.

Smiled.

Collapsed.

What was I supposed to do?

Oh, fuck supposed to. Fuck all of it. I didn’t have the mental energy to sort out priorities right now, I only knew what I wanted to do. I ran to Marianne’s side and fell to my knees beside her, then pressed my fingers to her throat for a pulse. 

It was easy enough to find - running faster than it should have been, but that on its own it was no cause for concern. She was alive.

But what had happened? I had never seen anything like it.

Now that I was close enough to get a good look at her, I could see that she was in much worse condition than I’d realized. I’d seen her take a few hits in her sword fight with Roland, but I hadn’t seen any blows strike hard enough to do this. The bruises on her face were already purple and getting darker. One eye was nearly swollen shut; the other wasn’t visible at all through the well of blood soaking her face.

“Medic!” I yelled, trying not to sound frantic. “I need a medic here!”

The various creatures - previously prisoners, now merely obstructions - shifted a path through their middle. Mirabelle Comfit approached, full-sized and free. She had Imp perched on one arm and a primrose petal tucked in the other.

Why? Why was she the medic? How was she even out??

“I’m impressed,” said Comfit, looking at Marianne slumped on the ground. “I’ve had people dust themselves, but never while already affected.” She shrugged. “That’s Marianne for you.”

“What?” I tried to ask.

“Bbghhg?” I asked instead.

She looked down at me and arched an eyebrow. At least, it seemed like she looked down at me. Even out of her cell she was tiny. Kneeling as I was, she was at eye-level.

“Did you call me over to do something, or just to mumble at me?”

“Help her, dammit! ” I said. I might have yelled. I wasn’t sure.

“Oh. Right.” She snapped her fingers, and the Imp swiveled its tail around, revealing a tiny, blue, cone-shaped vial. Comfit approached, leaned down, and placed one hand on Marianne’s head, apparently concentrating. She gasped and spat a curse - or maybe I misheard it? - and rushed to jab the pointy end into one of Marianne’s fingertips.

I couldn’t see any change for a moment. But then, looking past the blood, I could see the bruising lighten and fade. 

“Is she-”

“She’s fine,” said Comfit. She stood and wiped her hands. “Healing potion. Easy fix. Nothing to fuss about.” Her tone held none of its usual melody, all short and tense. She snapped her fingers again, and waved a distance away. “Herbs! The lizard has my herbs! Bring them here, now!”

Comfit was shaken. Stars above, Comfit was shaken.

I grabbed her shoulders. “She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?”

She smacked my hands away, distaste painted all over her face. “Yes, I said that! Can’t you listen? You look like you’ve crawled through hell, but you didn’t have to leave your brain there!”

Oh, Comfit was fine actually. 

“Why do you need herbs?”

“Why do you care? ” She let out a sharp exhale and griped something under her breath. “Sunny’s Luck Potion wore off, and that was my last health potion. I have to stabilize him quickly or it will affect his odds long-term. Can I go?”

I tried to process, but I wasn’t able get any further than that Marianne was safe. I realized that Comfit was right. I didn’t care. I waved a hand, and Comfit left. 

Marianne was going to be alright. The tension seeped out of my body. She was going to be alright.

She still had blood covering her face, though. I couldn’t let it dry like that. It wouldn't do for her to wake up with a face coated with dried blood and magic dust.

I didn’t have any cloth to wipe it away with. I patted my chest, as if I’d miraculously have some on my person. I didn’t know how I’d get a cloth. I didn’t have the mental faculties to consider how I’d begin to get a cloth.

“Your Majesty!”

I looked up. Stuff and Thang approached, one carrying a bucket of water and the other a stack of what looked like fresh hand towels.

I blinked at them. I couldn’t figure out if they actually existed, or if I was exhausted enough to hallucinate.

“The elf said these were frolicking!” said Thang.

“For the King,” corrected Stuff.

“The elf?” I asked. I couldn’t follow at all. “He’s unconscious.”

“No, before! When we went and got the fairy out of the dungeon like you asked, the elf was there helping everyone escape. He said you’d need these later, and we should make sure you got them.”

“You- he was-” I massaged the bridge of my nose. These two were definitely not a hallucination. I could never have imagined a move that inept. “You didn’t think to mention that at the time? ”

“I told you he’d want to know,” said Stuff. She lightly smacked Thang’s arm.

“Whatever.” I waved my hand again. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Give me the towels.”

Thang passed over the towels. In any other circumstance, Stuff would have kept the bucket until I asked for it specifically, but she must have been able to tell I wasn’t in the mood.

I dipped one of the towel’s corners into the bucket, propped up Marianne’s shoulders with my free arm, and gently wiped her face clean. 

It took a few minutes - and more than one hand towel- but eventually she was clean. Her hair was another matter, matted and already drying crisp, but that was beyond my abilities at present. 

Comfit had done her job. The bruising was gone and Marianne’s eyes, closed as they were, showed no trace of injury. 

I took a fresh towel and moved to her hands. The injuries were gone here too, but the blood pattern wasn’t. Lateral streaks down her hands where Roland had clawed for air. Stains under her fingernails from where she had clawed at her eyes. A crimson coat on her palms from grabbing her head. 

As hard as Marianne had fought, it seemed like all of the blood that had been spilled tonight was hers. 

Soon her hands were clean as well. I very briefly considered removing her arm guards to wipe there too - no doubt some blood had seeped through - but I decided against it. First, Marianne would probably be uncomfortable knowing that any of her armor had been removed while she was in a vulnerable state. Second, there was absolutely no way I could figure out how to unbuckle the things while I was so exhausted.

I’d done all I could. She could take care of the rest once she woke up.

“You’re taking forever. ” I looked up to see Comfit floating over me, looking unimpressed. “Aren’t you finished by now?” 

“Yes,” I said. I couldn't think of anything more biting. “I just finished.”

“Oh.” She didn’t seem like she’d expected that answer. “Um. Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.”

“What?”

She crossed her arms and nodded. “There’s a potion that could have cleaned all that blood much faster. Easy to make, too.”

“Okay,” I said. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”

“Would that help?”

She grimaced again, as if I was missing something obvious. “No, I mean, yes , but- The thing about this potion is that it can only be used at a very specific temperature range. And it has to be applied via submersion in a large tub.”

I furrowed my brow, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“With soap,” she added.

I just blinked at her.

“It’s a bath. I’m describing a bath. It’s a joke. It’s funny. Laugh.”

“Oh,” I said. “Was that funny?”

“Hilarious. Laugh. ”

I coughed politely.

She groaned. “You’re no fun like this. Why aren’t you getting all riled up?”

“Over a bath?”

She let out a tiny scream of frustration and pulled at her not-hair. “Over me! I’m out of my ball and I’m being annoying! Get annoyed!”

Comfit was acting weird. I'd thought so earlier, when she cured Marianne, but hadn't I been imagining it? I couldn't understand what was going through her head. Not that that was anything new. I dragged a hand over my face, then wondered if my face had any blood on it. I dipped one of the remaining towels in the bucket and gave my face a quick scrub. Better safe than sorry.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“Hm?” I said. I looked at the towel. It had come away dirty, but there was no blood. “No, sorry, I was paying attention. You were talking about baths.”

She stopped tugging at her not-hair and eyed me curiously. “Are you alright, Boggy Woggy?”

“Bog,” I replied instinctively. “I’ve uh… I’ve been better, I think.”

She nodded. “I think you need to go to bed.”

“My bed?” I looked down into the abyss. “It’s in my house.”

I furrowed my brows. It was becoming more and more obvious the more I spoke that somewhere between holding up a collapsing building and watching Marianne nearly murder an attempted brain-washer that exhaustion had rather depleted my higher functions.

“I need to sleep,” I said, decisively.

“Yes,” said Comfit. “That’s what I just said.”

“Right. Sleep where?” I asked, unwilling to even try to figure out for myself.

She shrugged. “Ground maybe? There are lots of trees around, you could make a leaf pile.”

“Marianne,” I said, distracted.

“Hm? Well, she’s dusted, so she wouldn’t object, but-”

“No, what? No. Where is she sleeping? I can’t leave her here.”

“Oh.” She considered. “Can’t you?”

I didn’t bother glaring at her. “Dawn?” I yelled in the general direction of the crowd. I pulled myself up and wow my everything hurt. “Dawn? I need your help over here!”

A streak of pink hurtled toward me. I had a momentary moral crisis about enlisting the help of someone magically compelled to love me, but I let it pass. This was her sister, after all. I was sure she’d forgive me.

“Boggy Woggy!” squealed Dawn as she wrapped her arms around me.

“Bog,” I corrected. I tried and failed to peel her off. “I need to find a spot for Marianne to sleep. We can’t just leave her on the ground.”

“Oh.” Dawn looked puzzled and glanced between me and Marianne. “Can’t we?”

Comfit pointed a finger at Dawn, excited. “You! Your brain actually works! Oh my- I didn’t even have to program that in!”

I groaned. I didn’t have the energy to deal with two of whatever these girls were.

“Let’s focus, please. Dawn, where’s a place she could rest without being too badly disturbed?”

Dawn considered. “Well, Sunny’s sleeping on the lizard over there. It’s a pretty big lizard, I bet we could fit her on too.”

“You want us to sleep on a-” As I spoke, my eyes drifted shut on their own and I had to force them back open. “You know what? That’s fine. Lizard it is.”

I picked up Marianne - oh wow that hurt, my entire body was so sore - and staggered over toward the massive beast. 

“Are you okay, Boggy Woggy?”

“Bog,” I grunted. “Sorry, which one of you asked that?”

“What do you mean?” Dawn looked concerned. “I’m the only one here.”

Oh. Comfit had left. Probably for the best. I struggled to put the next foot forward. “I’m fine. I’m just tired. We need to get to the lizard.”

“Let me carry Marianne,” said Dawn.

That was surprising. “Can you carry her?” 

“Sure! I’m really strong, you know.”

I had my doubts, but if she could handle it, I was far too tired to pass up the opportunity. “If you're certain, thank you.”

Dawn moved ahead of me, faced the other way, and held her hands out for me to place Marianne on her back.

I passed her over, and made sure Dawn had a good grip before I let go. 

Sure enough. Dawn’s stance was a little broader, and I could see that it took effort, but she could definitely handle it. Dawn trudged forward, and I followed behind.

I was finally able to get a good view of the crowd as it parted before us. 

People were paired off, for the most part. Now that no one around them was screaming or being strangled, the couples seemed calmer. They were stroking each others’ faces, smooching, and whispering sweet nothings at each other. An occasional fairy soldier milled through looking extremely confused. 

Luckily, people still seemed to have the wherewithal to scooch out of our way as we passed through them.

“Is it okay to leave everyone like this?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, do something?”

Dawn turned her head but didn’t stop walking. “What do you mean? I don’t see a problem.”

I supposed she wouldn’t. Not while under the same effect herself. Oh, whatever. I was too tired. As long as Comfit got started on the antidote soon, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Finally we approached the lizard. The sunlight streamed overhead and caught the lizard’s flank full on. The thing looked contented. On its back, Sunny the elf lay face down and snoring. 

“Um,” said Dawn. “I can’t fly while I’m holding her. How do we-”

“Just set her down, it’s fine.” I took Marianne’s shoulders as Dawn crouched. We sat her down and propped her back up against the lizard’s flank. 

“Is that all right?” 

“Yes.” I sat down and leaned against the lizard too, a respectful distance from Marianne. 

“Oh, you’re also going to sleep?”

“Yes.” I leaned my head back. The lizard was warm, and surprisingly comfortable.

“Then I’ll sleep too! We’ll all have a cuddle puddle! It’ll be great!”

I didn’t know what that meant and I was too afraid to ask. No doubt it would be unbearable. But now that I was seated and warm I knew I wouldn't have the energy to fend her off. 

Dawn sat down between us, grabbed her sister’s hand, and then grabbed mine. She was snoring in an instant. Oh. That was pleasant enough. I was expecting something much worse.

I fell asleep too.

When I woke up some hours later, my hand was empty. I turned my head to look, and realized I was flat on my back. 

Both of the princesses were gone. As was the lizard.

I sat up from the dirt - at least it was warm dirt - and something hit my lap. A hand towel. Someone had placed a hand towel on my chest like it was a blanket. I couldn’t figure out if I was endeared or annoyed.

I looked around. The sun was much higher in the sky. It wasn’t quite noon yet, but it was near enough. The crowd was still assembled. Folk milled about talking to each other. They didn’t obsess over one another, and changed conversation partners easily.

They were cured.

I sat up quickly, then immediately laid back down from the pain. Every muscle in my body had long since passed the point of complaining at me and instead opted for more violent forms of protest.

Dawn approached. She looked down at me, concerned.

“Bog?” 

“Boggy,” I corrected instinctively. 

We both paused, confused, but she was gracious enough to ignore me.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. Quite all right. I’m just in an incredible amount of pain is all.”

“That’s good,” she said, twiddling her thumbs. “So, you made me an offer earlier that if I was cured then I could return home and we’d both be politely embarrassed about this for the rest of our lives. I’d like to take you up on it, if you don't mind.”

I barked a laugh, but through the pain it sounded more like a wheeze. “You’re cured, then?” 

“Completely. I hope there’s no hard feelings.”

“No, no, it’s mutual.”

“Oh good.”

We stayed for another long, awkward moment, and then my memory caught up with me.

“Is Marianne okay?” 

“Uhhhhh…” she looked awkward. “Sorta? That’s… hoo, buddy. That’s a whole to-do. She’s okay enough? I guess?”

I sat up slowly. My muscles didn’t thank me for my earlier efforts, and sleeping on the ground hadn’t won their favor. 

“Can I see her?”

Dawn made a face and looked behind her. I couldn’t quite catch what she was looking at. She turned back and nodded.

“I think? I mean, I guess that would be fine. I’ll lead you over.”

She fluttered slowly away, and I limped behind her.

Sure enough, everyone had been cured. Or, at least, most of them were. A half dozen or so pairs huddled together, ignoring everyone else. Mirabelle Comfit lurked nearby. She was staring very intently at a rabbit and a frog, who were both looking adoringly at each other.

“It’s the antidote,” said Dawn. “They fall back in love with each other for ten minutes or so, and then it wears off. Mirabelle didn’t want to risk any adverse reactions, so she’s dosing everybody in pairs.”

“That’s reasonable,” I said. “Have there been any problems?”

“Not really? She tells them she’s giving them a potion that will make their love last forever, and they always believe her. By the time it’s over, nobody’s really upset about being lied to. I wasn’t.” She looked up at me. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

I finally spotted Marianne near the back of the huddle. Her hair was damp, and it looked like she’d gotten all of the blood out of it. She smiled and approached us.

“She’s cured, right?” I asked Dawn.

Dawn shook her head gravely. 

I remembered, and I’m sure she did too, how Dawn had thrown herself on me repeatedly. I was tempted to brace for impact, but I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to fend off someone as strong as Marianne. She had already seen us, and there wasn’t time to run.

Marianne reached us. She stopped a few steps away and looked at me, face neutral.

“Are you alright?" she asked. "You were passed out on the ground earlier.”

She didn’t touch me. She didn’t even reach out a hand to take mine. Just stood, a considerate distance away.

I fought the surprise off my face.

“I’m… yes, I’m fine.”

“That’s good.”

She didn’t move to hug-tackle me. She didn’t even twitch with the effort of holding back. No love sonnets overflowing, no desperate declarations of love.

“Are you, um. Are you cured?” I asked.

Dawn jabbed me with her elbow. Marianne blushed and looked away.

“Ah.” 

The tension in the air was thick - a trait I shared, apparently.

“I’m not going to make it your problem,” Marianne said quietly. “I know you didn’t ask for this.”

Dawn shot me an angry look, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d stumbled into an emotional beehive.

“No, no-” I said, but Marianne interrupted me.

“I remember everything that happened,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I… I mean, I really like you. Like this. But also… as much as I like you right now, it’s a little hard to get overwhelmed by a feeling I decided to have? If that makes any sense? So I’ll go ahead and get cured and get out of your hair.”

This was too weird for me to process. It wasn’t every day that someone magically compelled themselves to love you, and it wasn’t every day that said magical compulsion seemed to have so little effect. “I… uh…That is-”

“His metaphorical hair,” supplied Dawn, cutting in before I could shove my foot any further into my mouth. I snorted at the joke, and Marianne relaxed a smidge.

Now that I was looking properly, I could see the effects of the potion on her. Her cheeks were tinged just slightly pink, and she looked away more frequently than she had before.

That was… something. I tried to ignore my racing heart.

“Anyway,” I said. “You seem like you’re moving pretty well. I’m surprised you aren’t more sore after everything that happened.”

Marianne looked surprised. “Oh. Yeah. Apparently Mirabelle gave me a healing potion after I passed out.”

“That helps with soreness?”

“Of course it does. Didn’t she give you one?”

"No."

There was a sound to our right. The rabbit from before let out a horrified squeak and scampered away. It avoided the forest - those instincts were still too strong, I supposed - and plowed right into some of the other victims in its panic. The frog slowly hopped in the other direction. 

Comfit approached us.

I tensed. Dawn looked calm though, and Marianne seemed more exasperated than distressed. 

With a smile as smug as a constrictor finding a nest, Comfit looked between the two of us. “So, how are my love-birds doing?”

I glared at her. Marianne shot forward and jabbed a finger under Comfit’s nose. “Why didn’t you give Bog a healing potion?”

Comfit gave her a flat look. “I thought it would be funny.”

“You let him sleep on the ground! You convinced me to let him sleep on the ground! In his condition!”

Comfit smiled wickedly. “It was funny.”

I let out a long sigh. Here I'd been worried that Comfit was acting strangely. She was exactly the same. “I hate you so much.”

"There we go!” Comfit snapped her fingers and Imp ran up to her, tail wrapped around another blue bottle. “You were acting all weird and neutral earlier. I couldn't risk that becoming a new habit, so I had to let you suffer for a while."

"You think I was acting weird?"

"Yes." Comfit took the potion from Imp and examined it. "Anyway, you ought to be glad. Imagine how awful it'd be if you woke up feeling grateful to me. Give me your hand.”

I looked at her. She looked back at me, expectant.

“That isn’t going to kill me, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t torment you if you were dead. Also, Marianne would get mad at me.”

Marianne crossed her arms and nodded.

That made sense. Or at least, it made Comfit-sense. I held out my hand, and she jabbed the pointy end into my fingertip, much harder than I suspected she needed to.

All at once, the ache in my body vanished and the fog in my mind cleared. I moved my arms and flapped my wings experimentally. All soreness was gone.

Thank the stars.

Now I had the mental energy to sort out priorities. 

“We need to arrange temporary shelter for everyone displaced by the castle’s collapse,” I said. “And arrange transport for anyone brought here from the Fairy Kingdom. I assume everyone else had healing potions applied as necessary?”

“Absolutely everyone,” said Comfit, still smug.

“The rest has already been taken care of,” said Marianne. “I found your mother and asked her about arranging shelter. She said she would find something suitable, but I asked her to wait on your approval before putting anything into action.”

“Thank you, that was a good idea.” I knew, and Marianne did not, that my mom was definitely not going to wait for my approval. But that was fine. She could probably handle a job like that on her own. I'd get the details from her later.

“Dawn and I spoke to Roland’s second-in-command, now that Roland is… somewhere. Once we’re finished here, the soldiers will escort the civilians home and then explain what happened to the King. With an army to vouch for what happened, I imagine the peace treaty will be maintained.”

“Excellent work.” I meant that. That was the most efficient handling of any royal business I had ever dealt with. I'd give an arm and a leg if my attendants could be half as effective.

Marianne blushed at my compliment.

I'd made her blush. I'd made her blush. My thoughts threatened to grind to a halt. There were people around and things to be done. I absolutely could not think about that right now. Later. Deal with it later. I clamped down on that line of thought and turned to Comfit. “What’s the status on the antidote?”

“It’s going well. No adverse reactions so far. I estimate we’ll have everyone taken care of within the hour.”

“Perhaps Marianne could go next?” I suggested. Dawn dragged a hand down her face, and Marianne looked pointedly at the floor.

“She’s going last.” Comfit crossed her weird, ethereal arms and dared me to contradict her.

“That’s stupid,” I contradicted.

“She’s calm and she understands exactly what’s happening to her,” said Comfit. “That’s more than I could say for half of these idiots. Also, I know this makes you uncomfortable, and I want to press her for details. She’s going last.”

"But that's-"

“I’m gonna go. I need to coach the soldiers on what they’ll say to the King.” Marianne took off before Comfit or I could embarrass her any more. Dawn gave us both a stern look.

“You two aren’t very good at this,” she said. She didn’t sound angry, just disappointed, which somehow made it worse. “I’m gonna go too. Sunny needs me.”

“The elf?” I asked. “He’s awake?”

“Of course he isn’t!” said Dawn. “But people keep trying to pester him with their gratitude, or whatever. He can’t get any rest like that! I need to make sure they leave him alone.”

“Gratitude? ” I accidentally let my disgust seep into my tone. “Gratitude for what? ”

Dawn looked at me like I was the one who wasn’t making sense. “He’s the one who got everyone out of the dungeons. And got the primrose petals to make the antidote. And made sure there were tons of witnesses when Roland did a treason.”

Ah, so that was how everyone  had escaped. Thinking back, I remembered Stuff and Thang saying something to similar effect, but I’d been distracted. Leave it to- wait, hold on-

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘did a treason?’ ” 

“Yeah? That’s what he did, isn’t it?”

“I mean…” I dragged a hand down my face. A debate on grammar was hardly something I wanted to pursue, especially with Dawn. “Didn’t the elf do that too, though?”

Comfit gave me a smug look. "You won't be able to lay a finger on Sunny."

"And why's that?"

“Luck Potion. ”

 My jaw dropped. “You gave him a- How could you be so-”

Comfit beamed under my displeasure. A Luck Potion. Stars above. No wonder everyone had survived. No wonder we had miraculously discovered a cure for Love Potions. Ugh. It would have been nice to know beforehand that the deck had been stacked in our favor. Though, now that I thought about it, I could vaguely remember Comfit saying something about a Luck Potion before I’d passed out. Something about Sunny’s long-term odds?

That elf had better be grateful he was still alive.

Comfit preened. “Thanks to my dastardly machinations, Sunny’s off limits. You won’t be able to lock him up now that he’s a hero to the people.”

I frowned. “It’s hardly heroism if someone fixes the problems they caused.”

She shrugged. “There are a lot of people here who feel differently.”

“Am I supposed to care?"

“A lot of people including your mother.”

Mom. She would pester me for hours, day after day, just to get her own way about something that didn’t even affect her. She would not allow me to imprison her saviour in our dungeon. Unless I wanted my daily life to become a living torment, Sunny would go free.

“I surrender the elf to the jurisdiction of the Fairy Kingdom,” I said.

“Covering your ass diplomatically, I see,” said Comfit.

Dawn looked confused. “Why would you want to lock up Sunny?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Because he-” Now that the phrase was in my head, I had to fight off the impulse to say ‘he did a treason’. Hopefully I never accidentally let that slip. “He used a Love Potion on you. That’s a crime.”

Dawn shrugged. “He apologized, though.”

My eyebrow did not go down. She was still looking at me as if I wasn't making sense.

“He apologized!” Dawn stamped her foot and crossed her arms. “When we were in the dungeons, he said that he had had a crush on me, but instead of talking to me about it like a good friend he went behind my back and tried to force it on me, but it backfired, and he feels really bad, and he got so freaked out from watching me act all magically weird that now he doesn’t even want to think about me like that, and he just wants to go back to being good friends who have zany adventures and almost get eaten by lizards!”

I blinked against the sudden onslaught of information. “I'm sorry, when did the lizard try to eat you?”

“That’s not important right now!” Dawn jabbed her finger into my face in a mirror of Marianne’s earlier move. “The point is, Sunny talks to me like I’m a person, not just a loose collection of bad ideas! I want to keep being friends with him, and it’s my decision, and none of you have any say in that! I personally don’t care that he tried to use a Love Potion on me! Who’s to say that, if I was the one with the crush, I wouldn’t have done the same to him? Maybe I would have! I don’t know! But if I did, and I said I was sorry, and I meant it, then I’d want to be forgiven, so it’s fine! ”

As Dawn ranted, Comfit raised both hands up to about shoulder level, palms forward, and fanned them quickly in what I could only describe as the most infuriating jazz hands performance I had ever seen. “Luck Potion,” she mouthed, occasionally interrupting her jazz hands to point enthusiastically at Dawn. 

I groaned and dragged a hand down my face. “As I just said, I’m not going to imprison him. If you want to keep him a free elf, that’s something you’ll have to discuss with your father.”

Dawn stopped her rant, eyed me closely, then turned to Comfit.

“When did you say he was going to wake up?”

“Another week at least,” said Comfit. She stopped her jazz hands as Dawn turned around, but she didn’t have time to fully put her hands down. She played it off as an exaggerated shrug. “Luck Potion hangover is what we in the medical field like to call ‘An Absolute Bitch.’ But he's had a health potion, so he should be fine. You’ll have to make sure he gets his fluids, but any half-competent trainee in the palace medical center should be able to keep him stable.”

Dawn nodded and flew off, leaving me alone with Comfit.

I glanced at her. She wasn't moving. Instead, she gave me a devious smile that reached all the way to her too-big eyes. “Now that the distractions have left, I have a proposition for you,” 

Oh no.

“I suspect I’m going to dislike it,” I said. 

She ignored me. “Here are the facts of the matter: I like making new and dangerous potions. You like when these potions have no way to reach the public. You like when primrose petals are removed from circulation. I like using up primrose petals in my research. And,” she gestured to the people around us, largely cured and in their right minds, “as much as my reputation correlates chaos, I don’t particularly mind the end to which these potions are used. Are you following?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m saying that you shouldn’t imprison me. You should hire me.”

I gave her the flattest, most exhausted look I had ever given anyone.

“No, seriously! You round up the primrose petals at the start of the year. You give them to me, and I use them to create new and interesting potions, which I immediately destroy.”

“As if I would trust you to destroy them.”

“You destroy them then. We both know you can.”

I could, in fact, and I was glad she still remembered. It had been a fun discovery. 

Immediately after I’d realized how monstrous the Love Potion was (and, of course, immediately after the Imp had thrown some of it in my crush’s face), I’d realized that I’d have to destroy it and prevent Comfit from making more. I’d played the part of a cowardly fool and claimed that I was just too nervous to throw the potion in that sweet girl’s face. Maybe if I burned it instead, like an incense, its effect might be dispersed and she’d be affected that way? 

Comfit had called me a moron, said that that would ruin her masterpiece, and that I absolutely must not try it. So I’d tried it immediately. I burnt a small batch in a controlled setting, tested it on myself (I did not fall in love with my mother’s bachelorette of the day, thank goodness), then burned the entire potion and had Comfit imprisoned before she could realize I’d double-crossed her. 

That had been a very good day.

Comfit interrupted my fond memories. “If you control the supply of petals, then it’s in my best interest to stay in your favor. You pay me one petal, I’ll pay you one potion, which you can then destroy. I won’t want to sell or keep or secret away any potions, because then I won’t be able to make new ones. And,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “if somehow someone gets a primrose petal out in the wild, as per what happened with our favorite elf here, then you’ll have someone on-hand who can immediately prepare an antidote.”

That was a compelling argument, but not compelling enough. 

“I don’t trust you enough for an arrangement that gives you that much freedom.”

She looked at me strangely, then smiled, predator’s eyes locked on to mine.

“All right then. Have it your way. If you prefer to have me locked up, then go ahead. Lock me up, Boggy Woggy.”

The pieces slotted into place, and I realized that I was absolutely, completely, and irrevocably fucked.

I hadn’t seen how she’d been released. I didn’t know what had happened to the orb cell. Given how long I’d been unconscious, the time she’d had to eliminate it, I doubted I ever would. My dungeon was gone. The orb cell was gone. Mirabelle Comfit was completely free, she had who knew how many petals left, and she was asking to work for me.

“I rescind my concern. Your plan is brilliant, I was a fool not to see that earlier, and I look forward to working with you.” 

She smiled, raised her hands up and shimmied them again in one set of final jazz hands. “Luck Potion~” she sang, then floated away to pick a new pair of victims to cure.

Chapter Text

It took about an hour before the remaining victims were cured. I waited patiently, contemplating the strangeness of my new feelings.

I liked Bog. He was smart, considerate, and not too shabby to look at. We had a lot in common.
This was nice.
But much more prominent in my mind was the debilitating certainty that this wasn’t supposed to be nice.

I had been in love before. More poignantly, I had been Love Potioned before. This feeling was pleasant, undeniably so. But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what I had felt for Roland over a year ago. It wasn’t the same obsession that had nearly cracked my mind - I shuddered at the memory. Nor was it the blinding passion that kept my fellow victims locked in each others’ arms, completely oblivious to everything around them.

Bog was sweet. I liked him. I didn’t want to fling myself at his feet and beg for every scrap of his attention. 

I couldn’t understand what it meant.

Mirabelle finished the last remaining victim, a snail. It saw itself off, slowly, as I approached her. It was odd seeing her this size. As a child she had towered over me, and in her bubble the problem reversed. Now she was a little shorter than I was, and her skin sparkled a little more, but in every other respect - voice, gestures, terrible ideas - she was just as I remembered.

“My turn?” I asked. 

“No.” Mirabelle scribbled notes furiously into a journal that she had somehow acquired. “I said I was going to press you for details, didn’t I? There’s an alcove in the trees, just there. We’ll have some privacy while I interrogate you.”

I snorted. I remembered Mirabelle’s ‘interrogations’ from childhood. They were mostly an excuse to play with the lights while she quizzed me on the scientific method. A weird game in retrospect. Lots of fun, though. 

“I don’t think we need privacy for something like that, do we?”

She gave me a sadistic smile and closed her journal with a snap. “If you insist.” She cleared her throat and raised her voice, just loud enough to be overheard by the people around us. “Please tell me all about how much you want to kiss Boggy Woggy on his weird, thin lips. Spare no details.”

My face burnt crimson. “Okay okay okay! Privacy! I get it! Alcove it is.”

“No, no, let’s do this here. Would you rather smooch his cheeks or hold his hand? What sort of dates are you imagining? Candle-lit dinners? Strolls on the beach at sunset? Something more… unconventional?”

“I’m going! You can stop, I’m going!” I put my hands over my ears and flew toward the alcove before she could say anything else. I could still hear her laughing behind me.

It probably said something unflattering about me that I still loved Mirabelle after all these years.

I pulled into the alcove. Saplings and new growth made a sort of wall around the cozy space, and a larger root poked up through the ground to make a convenient bench. It was surprisingly nice.

Mirabelle entered behind me, still laughing. She had a small silver potion in her hand, one I didn’t recognize. She moved around the perimeter of the alcove, sprinkling the potion on the ground as she went. “Sound blocker,” she explained. “It's not perfect, but it should keep us from being overheard.”

I almost said that we didn’t need that much privacy, but realized that if I did she would start saying embarrassing things again. I stayed silent. 

She finished sprinkling the potion around us, then turned to face me. She was done laughing. In fact, she looked more solemn than I had ever seen her. Completely, deadly serious. 

“I’m afraid I lied to you, Marianne.”

Oh no.

A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed that something very bad was about to happen. I forced it back, but still let out a nervous laugh. “Um. What do you mean?”

Mirabelle sighed. “This isn’t an interrogation. It’s a confession.” She sat on the exposed root and leaned her chin on her hands. “I made a mistake. A bad one.”

I stood, bewildered, trying to understand. This was definitely better than whatever I’d been fearing a moment before, but I couldn’t understand what it actually was.

“The antidote works, right? That wasn’t a trick? You didn’t run out of it?”

She lifted her head up, taken aback. “What? The antidote works fine. And it has about...” she counted on her fingers. “...fifteen million uses left. No, that has nothing to do with it.” 

I sighed in relief. “Then what’s the problem? I can still use it, right? Or are you afraid my brain will start leaking out of my ears again?” 

She didn’t laugh at my joke. She clasped her hands and pressed them tight against her mouth. “I need to explain some things.”

I laughed again, all nerves and no comedy. “You are being so ominous right now.”

She ignored me, hands still clasped tight. 

I sat down beside her, trepidatious, and waited.

“I am-” she started, then stopped. She inhaled deeply and started again. “You already know this about me, but... I am… let’s call it, ‘a firm believer in the popular opinion that bad people ought to be punished.’ ”

That was definitely one way to phrase it.

“You also know that, unlike most of the populace, I have the ability to apply said punishments. Not only that, but I can use information gathered in those punishments for the betterment of science. It’s a win-win! I add to a field that benefits society, and punish the people that threaten said society.” She considered. “Or just people that irritate me. Whichever. Those traits tend to overlap.”

She fiddled with her hands.

“I still believe that… how to phrase this? In the absence of other factors, I would still apply the potions I’ve applied, to the same people as before, in the same manner as their initial applications.”

I frowned. “You’re saying you wouldn’t take any of it back? But I thought-”

“That’s not what I’m saying. There were other factors. There are other factors. It’s great to watch assholes get hurt, yes, but my actions are the reason I didn’t get to watch you grow up. The reason I couldn’t protect you from Dagda. My actions then were a definite mistake, but I’m saying that, by my interpretation, they weren’t a moral mistake.” She reconsidered. "...Except for the people that irritated me. But then again, I never hurt any of those ones that badly.”

She re-reconsidered. “Okay, maybe I’m saying is that the worst I could be accused of, morally, is bullying.”

Mirabelle was absolutely incomprehensible sometimes. “This is what you were being so foreboding about? A decade-old ethics debate?”

“No.” She pressed her clasped hands to her lips again. “This is background information that I need you to understand before I get to the main point.”

I sighed and gestured for her to continue.

“About…” she counted on her fingers again, “twenty-three and a half hours ago, Sunny asked for my help to make a Love Potion. He said that his target was Dawn, and that his friend’s target was you. I can only assume that this friend was Roland.”

I nodded. “That makes sense. But how do you know about Roland?”

“Dawn explained some things to me while you were unconscious. She’s an interesting girl. I wish I’d gotten to know her better.”

I imagined that: Dawn and Mirabelle as close friends working in tandem.

The palace would’ve been destroyed in minutes.

“As you already know, I have the ability to splice in elements of Luck Potions into Love Potions. And as I told you before, that’s what I did to Sunny’s Love Potion. I modified it so that he would never be able to successfully apply it to Dawn. And, because I didn’t know the identity of his friend, I modified it so that no third party would be able to successfully apply it to you.”

“Wait, what? But-”

“I know! That’s so much redirected energy! I had to decrease the total capacity by something like twenty percent! Not that Sunny would ever notice.”

“Not that! Roland hit me with the Love Potion!”

“Right.” Mirabelle clenched her hands into fists. “That was the mistake. My mistake.”

“I don’t understand.”

She swallowed. “About eleven and a quarter hours ago, Sunny approached me again. This time he wanted me to make him a Luck Potion.”

“What? And you- of course you did.” No wonder I’d been able to survive a blind, one-armed sword-fight in a collapsing castle. So much for my incredible sword skills.

“He made me an interesting offer. A theoretical breakthrough. Unlimited primrose experimentation. I was willing to do it - just like that, no further consideration. But Sunny had conditions.”

“Conditions?” 

“I wasn’t allowed to break his mind, and I had to make sure no one got seriously hurt. Both easy to add. I spliced in a few other ingredients so Sunny’s memory would black out while he was affected. When he wakes up he won’t remember anything that happened. His psyche will be fine.”

“Okay? And the bit where nobody got hurt?”

“I put that in too. It was easy. A simple restriction on which timelines were viable. And it worked! Nobody ended up permanently injured or dead. A loose interpretation, but I'd say it counts.”

“I’m still not seeing the mistake.”

Mirabelle pressed her clasped her hands over her mouth again. She spoke slowly. “I had two Luck Potions out in the world at the same time. A small one in the Love Potion, and a larger one with Sunny.”

“Okay?”

“That’s two Luck Potions with two different sets of parameters. Two Luck Potions that wanted us to be in two different timelines. The larger one, the stronger one, the one with a whole primrose petal behind it instead of just a tiny splice - that one was victorious. We ended up in this timeline, where everybody saw Roland do a treason.”

I ignored Dawn’s grammarly influence and willed Mirabelle to get to the point. “And that means?”

“That means that when the smaller potion hit you in the face, applied by a third party, directly against its programming-”

“The Love Potion broke somehow,” I finished.

“No,” she said. “No, it worked perfectly. It found another timeline where you weren’t affected, and tried to physically pull you into it.” She gave me a significant look. “Starting with your eyeballs and pieces of your frontal lobe.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

The blood drained from my face. “That’s what- Was I… Would that have killed me?”

“Yes. Painfully. Agonizingly so.”

“Oh.” I raised a shaky hand to my now-intact eye. “And I survived because-”

“Because Sunny, a complete amateur, had the forethought that I lacked.” Mirabelle buried her face in her hands. “It was easy to add the parameter that nobody be hurt. Easy to ensure that we ended up in a timeline where you were able to save yourself. But I didn’t think of it. If I had been left to my own devices, you would be dead right now, and it would have been entirely my fault.”

Head still buried in her hands, Mirabelle let out a sob. 

Shit. I didn’t even know she could cry. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and I suddenly understood why she had insisted on privacy.

“Even when I saw you collapse, I just didn’t think! I didn’t know that could happen! And then Boggy ran up to help you and I was making fun of him, and I thought he was just being dramatic! I would have watched you die and I would have laughed! I feel so stupid! I feel so awful!”

Mirabelle sat up and wiped her eyes. She took a shaky breath. “When I realized what I’d done I… I was scared. I was scared of what I’d done. I was scared of what I could do. ” She gave a bitter laugh. “Even Boggy saw I was spooked. I think I threw him off the trail, and I tried to torment him a little to make myself feel better, but...”

She pulled my arm off of her shoulder and turned to face me. Her hands clasped around mine. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something like that happened to you. If I did that to you. And you have to promise never to repeat this to anyone, especially not to Imp, but…” She grabbed one of her ears and tugged it down in a very deliberate way. I assumed it was some sort of magical self-modification, though I had no idea what it did. “Between you and Imp… I’ve known you longer. I like you better.”  She let go of her ear. “But if you ever tell him I said that I will become your personal poltergeist. I will follow you around banging pots and pans twenty-four hours a day, so help me-”

“I won’t tell him.”

She took my hands in hers again and went back to looking solemn.

“I will never be able to make up what I’ve done to you. Everything I’ve done, everything I haven’t done. I don’t know if you’ll be able to forgive me, but I want you to know, I’m going to stop.”

“Stop?”

“Experimenting. No, sorry, punishing people with my experiments. I will definitely keep experimenting, but I'll keep the results private and I won't perform tests on anyone without express written permission.”

I gaped.

“I maintain that the core idea of my previous work was morally viable!” Mirabelle insisted. “But I can’t justify that use of power if it’s demonstrably capable of hurting an innocent party. Now that I know I’m… fallible.”

I didn’t move my hands from hers, but I made a face.

“You thought you were infallible?”

Mirabelle tilted her head too. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? This has never happened before.”

“So the bit where the Fairy Kingdom tried to imprison you was-”

“Out of my hands.”

“And the bit where Bog imprisoned you for over a decade was-”

“A fluke.”

“And the bit where you made yourself look like this -”

“Excuse you, I look lovely.”

All right, she had a point there. 

Mirabelle squeezed my hands tighter. “The important thing right now is this. I’m turning over a new leaf. And I am deeply, deeply indebted to you. So what I want to know is…” She swallowed. “Will you stay with me?”

I blinked, shocked.

“It doesn’t make up for the time we lost. It doesn’t make up for what I’ve done. But we could start something new.” She gripped my hands tighter. “I’m staying here in the Dark Forest and working for Boggy. Please, will you stay with me?”

Oh stars, I was tearing up. She wanted me around. She hadn’t just said it to appease me, she wanted me around. I wouldn’t have to go home. I would never have to face my father again. I let the tears fall down my face. “Of course I will.”

Mirabelle squealed and hugged me tight. “This is going to be so much fun! Oh! Just promise you won’t tell Boggy I’m 'reformed' or whatever. He’s still scared of me, and I want him to think that I’m always on the verge of slipping back into my old ways. Keep him on edge, you know.”

I snorted. “I thought you were giving up the whole tormenting people thing.”

She nodded, smug. “The magically inflicted kind, yes. Good old-fashioned bullying, no. You can’t expect me to give up all of my vices in one day. And we both know Boggy can take it.”

“I think most countries would label your brand of bullying as psychological warfare, but I’ll keep it secret for now.”

If there was anyone in the world that could stand up to Mirabelle’s method of inflicted fun, it was probably Bog. Probably. But I would step in, if it came to that.

“Right then!” Mirabelle clapped her hands together and stood up to leave. “We have to sort out where we’re going to live. You said the queen mother was the one to ask, right? I want to see if we can get a place with enough space for a full laboratory.”

“Hold on, you haven’t given me the antidote yet!”

She stopped and looked back at me. “I’m sorry?”

“The antidote. For the Potion. The Love Potion antidote.”

She looked at me like I was being very stupid. “You don’t need one.”

“Yes I do. I used a Love Potion on myself. I made myself fall in love with Bog. Give me the antidote.”

Mirabelle groaned and sat back down."You don’t need one.”

“What, did the Luck Potion fiasco give me an intolerance or something?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t I use it?”

She gave me a significant look. “Try to figure it out, dummy. Love Potions don’t work on people who are already in love. They don’t work on people who are too young. I’m telling you that you don’t need one to change your own feelings. That means…”

I furrowed my brows. “That means… that… you’re about to give me a long-winded explanation?”

Mirabelle rolled her eyes. “It means that Love Potions take your existing feelings into account.”

“Okay? I feel like I want you to give me the antidote.”

She snorted at my dumb joke. “You are so dense. The Love Potion accounts for your feelings. If you used a Love Potion and looked at someone you hated, don’t you think those feelings would be accounted for?”

“Well, I hated Roland. And then, when Roland dusted me, I fell back in love with him. I thought he was perfect and wonderful and everything, right up until-”

She gave my shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Right up until you decided not to.”

“No, right up until I reapplied it and looked at Bog!”

“That was when the Luck Potion stopped trying to kill you. When did your feelings stop?”

They stopped when… when had they? I thought back, but the whole experience was a blur of pain. 

“Doesn’t it follow that if you can opt out of the effects because of feelings of hatred, you could opt out because of other feelings? Less potent feelings?”

I wanted to pull out my hair. “Can’t you just get to the point?”

Mirabelle frowned. “Hm. I thought you’d be able to get this one. Whatever. I’m sure if it was happening to someone else you’d see it clearly.”

“See what clearly?”

She waved a hand. “I’ll just tell you. Love Potions are a completely optional experience. Anyone can decide to stop feeling the effects at any time.”

I shot to my feet. “What are you talking about? We just had to give all of those people the antidote! What about Dawn! ”

Mirabelle tapped her chin. “I don’t know why, but people never seem to believe me when I talk about the Just Say No method. But it’s true. People can opt out at any time. But they usually don’t want to. It’s a lot of fun, being in love. I mean, probably, I haven't done it. If something feels good, and you don’t fully understand what it is, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, would you opt out?”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Some people, like our favoritest little sister in the world, would never decide to opt out. That’s why the confused masses needed the antidote - to make the hard decision for them. But you? I think you have a little more brain power than that.”

I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know what anything meant.

“So you’re saying… my feelings for Bog…”

“I’d recommend opting out of them. That guy’s insufferable.” She looked smug. “I’m not certain you can, though.”

“I don’t- I can’t-” I wanted to scream. “Are you sure we can’t try the antidote?”

“You know what? Sure, Little Miss ‘I’m-Gonna-Doubt-The-World’s-Greatest-Potion-Maker-About-Her-Specialty.’ Let’s try the antidote. Imp!”

I wondered how her call was supposed to get through the noise blocker, but apparently it didn’t matter to Imp. He came running with his tail wrapped around a red-toned Love Potion. I supposed Mirabelle must have some kind of mental connection with him. It explained a lot, really.

“The antidote is a Love Potion with no modifications except the ten-minute time limit. See if you can’t opt out of it, smarty-britches.”

Mirabelle took the bottle, uncorked it, and threw its contents in my face.

Mirabelle sat beside me. The midday sun filtered through the leaves and cast a golden glow over her. She looked ethereally beautiful in this light, and no, stars no, absolutely not.

I grimaced and wiped the dust out of my eyes.

“How was that?”

“Terrible.” I shuddered. “I love you, but not like that. Ugh.”

“That took, what, four seconds? How bizarre, it’s almost like I knew what I was talking about. So, what do you think about Boggy now?”

Bog. My heart sped up. He was sweet, dependable, an incredible fighter, and really quite handsome from the right angle.

Oh no.

Oh no.

I buried my face in my hands and screamed.

Mirabelle waited for me to finish.

“Feeling any better?”

“No!” I ran nervous fingers through my hair. “How am I going to face him? I was carrying on like I was actually affected. How is he going to respond when I come back ‘cured’ and I’m acting exactly the same?”

Mirabelle smiled. 

“Oh no no no. When I dusted myself and looked at him and I started thinking he was so nice and sweet, I already thought that, didn’t I? I was just giving myself permission to think it, and- oh no! ”

Mirabelle beamed. “I just want you to know I am living for this.”

“Stop thriving off of my suffering!” Even as I said that I knew it was useless. I may as well have asked a fire to stop burning. “I don’t know what I’m going to do! I- He- And now I’m gonna be living here-” I screamed into my hands again.

“Don’t even worry about it. Boggy is super unobservant, he probably won’t even notice.”

“How am I supposed to just not worry about it? He’s incredibly observant! He’ll notice right away!”

Mirabelle smiled again, positively giddy. “I know!”

I screamed again. “You’re so annoying! ”

With one last smile, Mirabelle clapped her hands together. “And that’s my cue. I’m going to go pester the queen mother. You stay here and have your little emotional crisis. Oh! But let me know when you go talk to Boggy, I want to get a front row seat.”

I tried to smack her arm, but she dodged out of the way and cackled as she left the alcove.

I was alone with my thoughts.

I sat down and started to panic.

Chapter Text

Unlike the orb cell, the Love Potion was exactly where it should have been. Marianne had dropped it by the cliff’s edge. The victims had given it a wide berth, the perpetrators were otherwise indisposed, and Comfit and her familiar were busy administering the cure, so it had remained untouched. 

I scooped it up carefully, made a small campfire with bark and twigs from the nearby trees, and burned it.

That problem was solved. There was another problem, but not one that I was eager to face.

And so I put it off.

I checked in with my mom, but only for a moment. She was busy arguing with a few subjects about which nearby safe houses would make acceptable temporary homes. I kept quiet, though privately I thought any of them would be fine. The Dark Forest had extensive funding for such buildings. I left her to her work.

I conducted a head count, which was made difficult by the fact that no one sat still. That was fairly standard for my subjects, though. Eventually I determined that everyone that had been in the castle was safe and accounted for. I had figured as much, but I was glad to confirm it.

I passed a message through the mushrooms. “Castle collapsed, everyone safe.” My distant workers and patrols wouldn’t be caught unawares, but also wouldn’t have to worry about their loved ones. In theory, anyway. My long nap had no doubt impacted the likelihood of that outcome, but I couldn't help that now.

I flew down to examine the wreckage of my home. The water pulled small bits of dust and debris downstream, but most of it stayed put, clogging the waterway and generally being a mess. It was difficult to tell from such a cursory examination, but it didn’t look as if there was much worth saving inside. Perhaps an excavation may lead to a few odds and ends - a few cages might have survived, or perhaps a bone segment or two from my throne. Either way, the majority of the castle would have to be rebuilt or relocated. It would take some getting used to, but I hadn’t kept many sentimental items in my castle, so this was more of a financial and historical loss than a personal one. 

I tracked down Stuff and Thang and asked if either of them had put a little hand towel on my chest like it was a blanket earlier. They both denied it, but I couldn’t be certain. 

Not that that was important.

I tried to think of more tasks that needed doing. Send a messenger to contact King Dagda? No, that wouldn’t be necessary. The army would return to the Fairy Kingdom well before dark. Marianne had already arranged that.

Marianne. The last victim had been cured a few minutes ago, and she and Comfit had gone off for a private conversation. Probably to get cured herself.

I didn’t want to think about that. I looked for another distraction.

The fire that had destroyed the Love Potion burned steadily, but it started to smoke as its fuel ran low. I fed it some more twigs and leaves.

Mom was still arguing, this time with a new set of people. I interrupted her to remind her that I needed a house too. She gave me an irritated look and put my name at the bottom of the list. I knew she was doing it to be sarcastic, but I was perfectly happy to see my subjects tended to before myself.

I found my staff close to where I had fallen asleep. I wasn’t sure if Dawn had held onto it as we fled, or if one of my subjects had found it in the wreckage, or if I had somehow held onto it myself as I held up the collapsing ceiling. Regardless, it was nice to have.

Wasn’t there anything else to do?

Comfit strolled out of the clearing. Imp rode on her shoulder. They went over to the remaining primrose petals and started counting, furiously scribbling notes. 

Marianne didn’t emerge.

Marianne. I needed another distraction but found none. The problem that I had been putting off all this time finally found space in the forefront of my mind.

I had a crush on her.

I wanted to curse and throw things. Of course I had a crush on her. Never mind that she looked like a venomous night-stalker - she knew about sword fighting and wasn’t inherently disgusted by me. For all that I preached about the shortcomings of romance, it didn’t take much to win me over, apparently.

She hated romance as much as I did. No, much more, I was certain. My failures in love were purely my own fault; hers were caused by a nightmare of a partner. I could never ask her to trust me enough to set that aside. I could never ask it, but hadn't she done just that? She had deliberately, magically compelled herself to love me. But she had just done it to stop her evil, brain-washing ex, right?

The burning, unlikely hope of something more warred against the miserable comfort of hopelessness. It would be better to give up now. She’d be happier if I gave up now. But what if…

Marianne emerged from the trees. I stood up, holding my staff nervously in front of me. She ran an awkward hand through her hair and fluttered over.

“Hi Bog.” She didn’t look at me.

“Hi. Are you… cured?”

She laughed. “As cured as I’m gonna get.”

“Oh.” The silence was uncomfortable. “That’s good. Being in your right mind is… preferable.”

That may have been the most useless, inane sentence I had ever wasted breath on. 

“Would you like to sit?” I gestured to a spot beside the fire, and then immediately realized how odd it was to have a fire going at midday in spring. 

Somehow she didn’t seem bothered by my general incoherence. She sat down on the ground, and I sat beside her.

I figured I ought to say something. But what to say? I didn’t have anything clever prepared. 

A thought struck me - it would be a risk, but even if it didn’t work, I doubted Marianne would be offended. 

“I imagine the Fairy Kingdom residents will be escorted home soon, now that everyone’s cured.”

“Hm?” She looked up at me. It seemed she had been lost in thought. “Oh, yes. They’re leaving within the hour, I think.”

Within the hour. I had no time to be timid. 

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but…” I had to phrase this carefully. “Based on our earlier conversation, and Roland’s ill-placed anecdote, I believe there may be some animosity between you and Dagda?”

She giggled. It was very cute, though I suspected she wouldn’t appreciate being told so. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a fair assessment.”

“If you wanted…” My cheeks warmed. My tongue threatened to trip over itself. I took a deep breath and tried again. “I want you to know that you are welcome to stay here, if you prefer. We have plenty of room.”

She blinked up at me, surprise painted all over her face. Oh no, I’d pushed too far. I waved my hands in front of me. “You’re free to refuse, of course!” 

She put up her hands too. “No, no, it’s not that! Do you actually want me to stay?”

I desperately wanted her to stay. I felt like my heart would burst, but I wasn’t certain that her agreeing to stay would calm it. In fact, it would probably have the opposite effect. Not that I would ever, ever say that.

“Good sparring partners are hard to come by. And I wouldn’t balk at the chance for intelligent conversation.” I shot a glance toward Comfit. “Intelligent conversation that wouldn’t smother me in my sleep, anyway.”

She laughed. She had a lovely laugh. This was going to kill me.

“Then I accept.”

My heart trilled. Death would be fine, so long as it was this happiness that killed me.

She continued. “In the interest of clear communication, though, I should probably tell you that I was already planning to stay. Mirabelle asked me to live with her, and I agreed.”

Oh. My heart stopped trilling. Well, that was fine too. Even if she wasn’t staying for my sake, she was still staying. 

“Are you going to be sharing a home with her, or would you prefer your own? We have dozens of safe-houses, you could take your pick.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, looking puzzled.

“Sorry, you have dozens of safe-houses?”

“Yes? Do you not? They’re dreadfully convenient.”

She thought for a moment. “I should probably take my own place. Close to Mirabelle’s, if possible. Then she’ll have more space for her laboratory, and I’ll be able to do boring things like sleep.”

And I’d be able to visit without going through Comfit. “That seems wise. I’ll let my mother know that those arrangements take priority.” A potential sticking point occurred to me. “As you’re staying here, perhaps we’d better send along a signed note for your father? I wouldn’t want him to think you’re being kept against your will.”

Marianne laughed again. “I’ll write whatever you want, but I don’t think he’ll care. Between the fuss Dawn is going to make over Sunny and finding out that his favorite would-be son-in-law did a treason, I imagine he’ll have more important things to deal with.”

“I- Listen, I know this is serious, but is that actually grammatically correct in the Fairy Kingdom? ‘Did a treason?’ Because it doesn’t sound right, but if it’s a dialect thing-”

Marianne buried her bright red face in her hands. “It’s not! But Dawn kept saying it, and then Mirabelle said it, and now it’s stuck in my head!”

I burst out laughing. Marianne glared at me, but she fought back a smile herself.

“It’s not that funny.”

“I almost did the same thing, so I’m allowed to laugh.”

“Oh, is that how it works?”

We sat together, fighting off laughter. Now that I knew she wouldn’t be leaving, the tiny, insistent voice that demanded I bare my feelings quieted. There was no rush. We had nothing but time.

“Bog?” Marianne looked at me. Her eyes were earnest and focused, but her cheeks were still bright red. 

“Yes?”

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. “Also in the interest of clear communication, I feel like I have to tell you...” She took a deep breath and spat everything out in one more breath. “I’ve got a crush on you, please don’t freak out.”

Thank heavens I’d already been on the ground, or the shock would have literally floored me. But that small mercy didn’t stop my face from turning crimson.

“Oh?” I squeaked. “Do you really? That’s- well-”

Marianne pressed her balled fists up to her temples. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this-”

“No! What? No, I do too!”

She looked up at me, wide-eyed and nervous. Seated as she was, wings tucked away, I could see for the first time just how small she was. Marianne had already demonstrated beyond any reasonable degree of doubt that she was strong, that she was capable, that she would face any challenge head-on. And while all of those things were still true, from this angle, with this expression, she looked so fragile. 

I knew she could protect herself. I knew she didn’t need my help, but some part of me wanted to protect her. Even if the only thing I could protect her from was whatever vicious thought made her think she had to apologize for liking me.

I thought that, and then I realized that what I had just said was absolute gibberish.

"You, I mean.” I clarified, but my clarification wasn’t helping. “I also have a crush on- That is, I don’t have a crush on me, that’d be silly. Not that I’m saying you’re silly, I just- That is-”

She interrupted my rambling by grabbing my hands, which I had been waving around as if they might help somehow. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re saying you like me back?”

Though I was cognizant of the reasons, it still made my heart ache that she sounded so surprised. “Yes. Of course I do. You’re competent, and you’re sensible, and could probably stab me.”

She pressed her hands together in front of her mouth, as if I had just said something very deep and meaningful. “That’s how I feel about you!”

We looked at each other. She was bright red, and I was sure I was too. 

“I… I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.” I said. “Do we date? Are we dating? Is that what this is?”

Marianne contemplated. “Since we’re both royalty, it almost feels like we have to fill out an application or something. Is there protocol for this?”

“I feel like I’ll have to make a case to rally support from parliament,” I said. “We don’t have a parliament, which may complicate matters-”

“JUST KISS ALREADY!” Comfit barely looked up from her petals as she screamed at us. Several people turned to look. “LET ME TAKE NOTES.”

I could feel as whatever tiny semblance of romance had been in the air evaporated instantly. The blood drained from my face. I didn’t risk looking at Marianne’s reaction for fear it would be misinterpreted as my making a move. 

“She’s going to be living here,” I said.

“Yep.” Marianne sounded strained.

“And neither of us has the ability to make her stop doing that.”

“Correct.”

“This is the worst possible timeline,” I said. “This is the worst possible turn of events.”

“I wish I was dead,” said Marianne.

“This is the second worst possible timeline,” I said. “It is still remarkably fucking bad, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“WHY AREN’T YOU KISSING YET? I’VE GOT MY PAPER READY AND EVERYTHING!” Comfit had, by now, gone to the trouble of turning around to face us. As had dozens of the assorted victims.

“I’m going to kill her,” I said simply.

“I love her, but I won’t stop you.”

“WAIT, WHO’S KISSING?” Dawn came hurtling through the air toward us. Marianne let out a groan so high-pitched it teetered on a scream. 

Dawn alighted in front of us. She looked at Comfit, looked back at us sitting on the ground, then tilted her head in confusion. “You guys? That’s not kissing. You know that’s not kissing, right? If you think that’s what kissing looks like then I’m sorry to say you have been severely misinformed.”

“This is torture,” said Marianne. “This is honest-to-goodness torture, and I am going to break.”

“What do you mean?” Comfit approached, notepad in hand. She leered down at Marianne. “You said you wanted me around when you were growing up, right? I’m just making up for lost time.”

I stood up. I took a page from Marianne’s book and jabbed my finger under Comfit’s nose, admittedly with less force than she had done. “One day I will be personally responsible for your death and, I cannot stress this enough, any fair judicial system will thank me for my services.”

Dawn clapped her hands, delighted. “You guys are twinsies! You have the same death threats and everything! That’s so cute! Just let me know when you’re having the wedding, I absolutely have to be the Maid of Honor.”

Marianne flopped onto her back, covered her face with her hands, and screamed. If I hadn’t already been standing I probably would have done the same.

Comfit looked at Dawn, aghast. “Excuse you. I’ve known Marianne for longer than you’ve been alive. I should be the Maid of Honor.”

Dawn hovered upward and looked down her nose at her. “Excuse you, but I owe her several life debts.”

Comfit cursed, as if that was an actual coherent reason for anything. 

“And besides,” said Dawn, “you may be good at your big fancy Love Potions, but weddings are supposed to be fun. I’m better at fun, so I win by default.”

Comfit’s smile shifted to something more sinister. I had seen this before, but only when I’d really pissed her off. “You think I can’t do fun?”

Dawn waved a hand around at the loitering onlookers. “Does this look like a party to you? It’s all fuss and misery around here!”

Comfit was tense now, all coils and sharp teeth ready to spring. “Give me a challenge then, princess. We’ll see if I’m fun enough for you.”

This was going to end badly. 

The responsible thing to do would be to intervene.

But Comfit’s attention was off of me and Marianne, and it had already been a very long day.

Dawn thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “What about a potion that turns your tongue blue, huh, clever-britches? Can you do that?”

For the first time I had ever seen, Comfit looked completely and utterly baffled. “A potion that turns- A popsicle? You mean a fucking popsicle?”

Marianne, still on the floor, removed her hands from her face. “Is that what those were? All these years, I’ve remembered them as potions. Huh.” 

It was official: any semblance of romance had been completely obliterated.

Dawn shook her head dramatically. “Popsicle, schmopsicle. If you’re not up to the challenge...”

Comfit rolled up a nonexistent sleeve. “I’ll show you a damn popsicle. Imp! ”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was a mercy that their attention was off of us, but I didn’t want to be around for the inevitable magical fallout. Hopefully the crowd would have the sense to evacuate as well. 

“Marianne?” I asked. “At the risk of sounding unintentionally forward, would you like to continue this conversation somewhere private?”

She stood up. “Please.” 

I picked up my staff and we flew up over the crowd, which had mercifully lost interest in us for whatever Comfit and Dawn were doing. I led us to a clearing a few minutes away - not a long flight, but far enough that no one would pester us. 

We touched down on patchy grass. We had followed the gorge from my castle, and the cliff’s edge shaped one side of the clearing. The rest was, while not uniform, lined by old trees. The grass was sparse, but there weren’t any stones or ditches to consider. It was a useful practice spot, one I had utilized many times before.

Finally, it was just the two of us.

“Right!” I said. “We were-” 

Ah. 

With the distractions gone, I remembered that we were right in the middle of confessing our feelings for each other, and suddenly lacked an end to my sentence. In my urge to get away from one variety of awkwardness, I had thrown myself headlong into another. “That is, we were…”

“Do you want to spar?” Marianne put a hand on her sword, but didn’t draw it from its sheath. 

Thank heavens for this girl. Beating each other up was infinitely preferable to the awkward discussion of feelings, even if said feelings were requited. 

But, no. As always, my mind was twelve steps ahead of where it needed to be, and the risks were already calculated before I opened my mouth.

“I want to, yes, but I don’t think it would be wise.” Marianne let go of her sword and looked disappointed. I continued, hoping she would understand. “It worked out all right last time, but these are our real weapons. We would risk serious injury, and we don’t have any health potions on hand. I know we’re both skilled enough that an injury isn’t likely…”

“But you don’t want to risk it.”

I shook my head. “In ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t mind - I know our mutual pain tolerance is absolutely absurd. But in the event of an injury we would still need to get a health potion, and for that we’d have to go back to Comfit.”

“Oh,” said Marianne. “Oh right. Then what should we do instead?”

The question hung in the air as we both tried to ignore the option that Comfit had so helpfully provided earlier.

“If we can’t spar,” said Marianne, “maybe you could just explain the basics of fighting with a staff? It’s not as good as hands-on practice, but it’s still worth knowing.”

“Yes!” Oh thank the stars. It wasn’t as good as a sparring session, but it would be more than a sufficient distraction. I could talk for hours about technique and technicalities, and as long as Marianne was willing to listen we wouldn’t have to do anything else. “Yes, let’s do that.”

I held my staff out in front of me, and Marianne took a step away to observe. “The primary difference between fighting with a sword and a staff is the type of harm you’re trying to inflict on your opponent. Swords have points and sharp edges, and proper technique is about maximizing the damage that those specific areas can do. I don’t imagine that I have to lecture you on the importance of edge alignment.”

She lifted a hand to her mouth to hide a giggle. “You don’t need to tell me that the flat side isn’t good for cutting, either.” She was so lovely. I swallowed, and shook my head to keep myself from staring.

“So," I continued, "with a sword, if you were to remove the pointed tip and sharpened edges, you’d have a training sword. It still wouldn’t be comfortable to get smacked with one, but by removing those sections, you’ve removed it’s lethality. With a staff, though-”

I looked around for something on which to demonstrate, then remembered that clearings are, as a general rule, clear. A minor inconvenience at worst. I demonstrated a simple strike and cracked the front end of my staff down into the dirt. A small clump of grass flew into the air. It didn’t look as impressive as shattering wood, but it would do.

“Staves are all about leverage. Your dominant hand applies the force, your nondominant hand acts as the fulcrum. Done correctly, the front end moves more quickly than the back, and that’s the force that you inflict on your opponents. Now, while my staff has ornamentation-” I slid my hand up the length of it, then picked mud and grass out from where I had lodged it in the filigree, “-a simple staff is still lethal. There is no point or edge to be removed - it is all dangerous, and it is made so by proper technique.”

I looked over to see if she was following along. I had tried to talk about staves with my subjects before, and had inevitably been met with snores and blank looks.

Marianne was definitely following along. Her eyes gleamed with excitement, and her face was lit up in the brightest smile I had ever seen on a living being. 

She was stunning.

I was supposed to tell her which drills she should start with. I was supposed to tell her what equipment to use to spar safely. But she looked so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself but stare.

She caught me staring. The beautiful smile vanished, and she rolled her eyes dramatically. “Okay, this is absurd. ”

I looked back to my staff, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to-” 

She ignored me and removed her sword from her belt, sheath and all. She flipped it around and held it in one hand, not by handle, but the tip.

I should have seen it coming. She swung low, and the sword, still sheathed, caught the back of my knee with the hand guard. It wasn’t a hard hit, certainly not hard enough to take me down. But in a flash of movement Marianne crouched and grabbed the handle while her other hand still gripped the pointed end of the sheath. She pulled forward with both hands, and I crumpled into a kneeling position.

Before I could retaliate, before I could even voice an objection, she let go, took my face in both hands, and pressed her lips against mine.

Oh.

Oh.

If this was what a bruised knee could get me, I would happily pay the price of admission. 

I relaxed into the kiss, and she took the opportunity to press further. She stood to her full height and stepped in closer, pressed her body against mine. Her head was still stooped to kiss me as I kneeled.

I had expected Marianne to be ferocious. As demanding and fierce and sharp as her swordplay, but this… Her lips on mine were soft. There was a confidence in her now, a certainty of purpose, but no aggression behind it. No fear, no hint of concern that she wouldn’t be able to get exactly what she wanted from me.

She had the bearing of a queen, and I would happily be her subject.

Still kneeling, I raised my hands to her waist. I wanted to pull her even tighter against me.

Marianne froze.

I let go at once and leaned back, but didn’t stand. Had I misstepped? 

Her cheeks flushed dark. She gaped her mouth several times, as if trying to speak, but no sound came out. I waited patiently.

“I am so sorry,” she squeaked. “That wasn’t- I should have asked- I wasn’t trying to-”

“No, no! Don’t be,” I said. 

She took a small step back, and I took her hands in mine before she could move too far away. I stayed kneeling. If there was any chance that she would kiss me again, I wouldn’t jeopardize it for something as inconsequential as standing.

She didn’t pull her hands away, but she squeezed her eyes shut. I suspected that she very much wanted to cover her face again. “That was so inappropriate. I shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t mind.” Even as I said it, I regretted my word choice. My feelings were much stronger than not minding. Her face was still crimson, and her eyes were still shut tight. I pulled on her hands, lightly, trying to bring her back toward me. 

She peeked one eye open to look at me, nervously, like dipping one toe into water to test the temperature. 

“I don’t mind,” I said again, softly. I pulled her hands to me again, and this time she approached, closing the gap between us. She gently pulled her hands out of mine, placed her hands my shoulders, and pressed her forehead to mine. She let out a quiet sigh.

“I’m worried that I’ll...” She squeezed her eyes shut again. “I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

I brought one hand to her waist and up her back. She didn’t flinch this time, so I kept it there. It was as close as I could get to a hug in this position. 

“I don’t have a lot of experience with this,” I said. She opened her eyes and looked into mine. I’d always thought fairy eyes were too big, but in this moment I could only think that hers were a gorgeous shade of brown. “I won’t always know the right thing to say. But I will promise you something.” 

I brought my other hand up to her cheek. I moved slowly, waited to see if she would flinch, if I should back off. She didn’t. She closed her eyes again, but this time it didn’t seem to be from embarrassment. 

I spoke softly. “I promise that, no matter what you do, I’ll be able to handle it. I’m strong. You won’t scare me away.”

Marianne took in a shaky breath.

I stroked my hand down her cheek. “I promise, there is no one I would rather figure this out with than you.”

She pulled away for a moment, and I worried that I had said the wrong thing. But she wrapped her arms tight around my shoulders and buried her face against my neck.

I wrapped my other hand around her back and hugged her tight. “I promise, I’m never going to hurt you.”

Her voice came out muffled. “Bog, I…”

There was a rustling in the trees.

Both of us immediately tensed and looked toward the sound. Quietly, I reached down and picked up her sword from where it had fallen below my leg. I passed it to her. She took it and stood upright, but didn’t draw.

But now the rustling was accompanied by voices.

“No, you can’t interrupt them!”

“This is an emergency, ma’am!”

“But you can’t! Don’t you understand what a momentous occasion this is? My son! My son! Getting married! They’re already sorting out bridesmaids!”

Oh no.

Stuff and Thang came scrambling into the clearing, with my mom in close pursuit. All of them had mysterious blue splotches on their skin.

“I’m sorry, honey! I tried to stop them!” my mom yelled. Then she stopped short as she saw us for the first time and gasped loudly. 

I was kneeling in front of Marianne. Dawn and Comfit had been screaming about a wedding and I was kneeling in front of Marianne.

Oh no.

“Don’t jump to conclusions!” I yelled. I knew it was futile. My mother’s mind had a built-in springboard.

She clapped her hands to her cheeks, beaming. “You’re proposing! I knew this day would come!” She turned on Stuff and Thang, furious. “You interrupted my son’s proposal over nothing! How dare you!”

“Son?” asked Marianne. By now she had strapped her sword back onto her hip. “Is that your mom?”

One of these days Marianne and I would have a moment that wasn’t rudely interrupted, but it seemed that day was not today. I sighed, picked up my staff from where I’d dropped it beside me, and stood up.

“What’s the situation?”

“The situation? How can you be so unromantic? You ought to-”

“It’s the new potion, Your Majesty.” Stuff had the good sense to interrupt my mother before she could really get started. “It’s just supposed to turn your tongue blue, but look what’s happening!” She gestured to herself, and sure enough, all three of them were covered in blue splotches.

Marianne gasped in outrage. “She’s testing it on people? Without permission? We left her alone for five minutes! ”

“No, it’s the Imp!” said Thang. “His tongue turned blue, but now he’s spitting at people!”

Marianne and I took a moment to process. Then she burst out laughing, while I shook my head, disappointed. Not disappointed in her, of course. Just in general.

“See!” yelled my mom. “This is what they interrupted your proposal for! They ought to be locked up!”

I sighed. “Mom, we don’t even have a dungeon anymore.”

“Do you think I care? They're a menace, I tell you! A menace! They should have left you alone!"

From a long distance away, I heard a crash that could only have been a full-grown tree falling, and two faint, feminine cackles.

“We have to get back,” said Marianne. She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. I had a suspicion that she had prior experience with this sort of thing.

I expected that our future would contain a lot of this: interruptions and chaos and finding solutions to problems we didn’t cause. But when I looked at Marianne’s wide smile, I figured I could find a way to live with it.

“I’ll race you,” I said.

She smirked at me and took off in a flash of purple.

I was after her in a heartbeat.

Chapter Text

Watching Marianne and Bog fight was like watching a dance. I didn’t recognize the steps, of course. I doubted I ever would. But there was an unmistakable beauty behind it: asymmetry brought to a point of balance. 

No wonder Marianne had never wanted to dance with any of the guys I picked out for her. No wonder she didn’t care about dresses. This was what she had been missing. For the first time in a long time - no, actually, for the first time I could remember in my entire life - Marianne looked really and truly happy.

“Break his kneecaps!” yelled Comfit from beside me. 

We were in a little clearing a short ways from the castle - the newly under-construction one, not the rubbley wet one. Comfit and I sat side-by-side on a small boulder, watching the two fighting up above us. Not directly above us though, obviously. I loved Marianne, but I hardly wanted her to rain sweat on me. 

Bog held a sword at chest level with his other hand raised above his head like a court dancer. Marianne was carrying a simple wooden stick, but somehow made it look like it was the most dangerous thing she’d ever touched. This was round six. They were three-to-three and both were breathing heavily, but I had watched Marianne practice for ages now and I could see when she was nearing her limit.

“Bog is going to win this round,” I whispered to Comfit. “I’ll bet you the wedding cake flavour on it.”

“Deal,” said Comfit. “Rose and pistachio.”

“Hope you’re ready for disappointment. Triple chocolate.”

“Are you two planning my wedding again?” Marianne dodged as Bog thrust toward her. Her return swing went wide. “You’ve got to knock that off!”

“Well if you would just get married already we wouldn’t have to keep planning!” Comfit yelled back.

Bog blocked an overhead strike. “While I appreciate the enthusiasm, we’ve only been dating for a few months,” he said. “We’re not interested in rushing things. More importantly-” he thrust forward, but Marianne parried. “Raspberry filling needs to be a more prominent factor in this conversation.”

“Don’t encourage them!”

“If I can endure my mother, you can endure these two.”

Marianne brought her staff down again, but didn’t even come close to landing a blow. Bog swung his sword and caught her bicep.

“You need to practice your form,” he said.

“And you need to remember that the flat side doesn’t cut.”

They separated and held their weapons out at the ready, each looking for an opening.

“Your Majesties!” One of Bog’s little assistant thingies came flippy-flopping up to us in a high speed waddle, waving an envelope. “Your Majesties! News! Important news!”

Marianne and Bog exchanged a look.

“Tie?”

“Tie.” 

They lowered to the ground, and the little goblin ran forward with the envelope, which he offered up to Marianne. “Here, Your Majesty.”

“Thang, I’ve told you already. I’m not the queen, so you can’t call me ‘Your Majesty.’ Just use my name.”

“No can do, Your Majesty!” Thang gave a sloppy salute and accidentally smacked the envelope onto his forehead. It stuck there. “That would be setting a ‘purr press a dent,’ so I’m not allowed to do it!” 

“A purr… A poor precedent?” Marianne made a face and shot a look at Bog, who was innocently looking at anything except her. “Bog? Would you explain to me why it would be setting a poor precedent for your subjects to refer to me by anything other than ‘Your Majesty?’”

He still avoided eye contact, and now blushed slightly. “Well. You know. If they were expected to call you one thing now, and something else in the coming months or years…”

“Months?”

“Or years, yes. I fear that some of my simpler subjects may, uh, struggle with the transition.”

“The hypothetical transition.”

“Yes, obviously.”

Marianne rolled her eyes and grumbled as she peeled the envelope off of Thang’s face. She opened it as he ran back the way he came.

I looked at the two of them standing together. Marianne’s eyebrows wrinkled as she read through whatever the important letter was, and Bog was looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky. They were very cute together, in a weird sort of way, but neither of them was hitting each other with weapons at all. I leaned over to Comfit. “What does this mean for the cake?” I asked. “Who wins?”

Comfit pursed her lips, disappointed. “It was a tie. Neither of us won.”

“Doesn’t that mean Bog's raspberry filling won?”

She gave me a curious look. “What, just a loose pile of raspberry filling instead of a cake?”

I shrugged. “I was imagining it in a bowl, but sure, we could do a pile. Just as long as we can keep the candles upright.”

Curiosity, disgust, and a hint of utter delight crossed her face in quick succession. “Why would you put candles in a loose pile of raspberry filling?”

“Well, it’s a cake, isn’t it? Cakes have candles. That’s their job.”

She gave me an absolutely besotted smile. “I want to dissect your brain and figure out what’s wrong with you.”

I smiled back at her. “Thanks! You’re a lot of fun too!”

“Guys.” Marianne looked up from her letter with a deadly serious expression. “This is it. I did it.”

“Did what?” I asked.

“I found him.”

I turned to Comfit, expecting her to look as confused as I was. Instead she looked serious too - angry, even. She was all tense through the shoulders, coiled up like a spring trap ready to take someone’s limb off. 

“Where is he?” asked Bog. He didn’t look as angry as Comfit, but the smile he’d been wearing through all six rounds of sparring was gone. “I can have a brute squad ready in three minutes.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Roland.” Marianne handed the letter to Bog. “And don’t bother. We can’t risk another war.”

Bog took the letter and skimmed it, eyes flitting so fast I couldn’t believe he was actually processing any of the words. After long moments…

“Huh.”

He looked up, but he didn’t look angry any more. He looked like someone had told a bad joke and he was trying to figure out whether the problem was the punchline or the delivery.

Comfit darted up and snatched the letter out of his hands. She looked at it for a few seconds, and the tension eased out of her. Her expression became a mirror of Bog’s. She squinted and turned it sideways, like that might make something clearer.

I flitted over, and she handed me the letter.

The paper was crumpled and covered with ink splots, with ink-covered fingerprints in a few places near the edge. The handwriting was odd: deeply slanted and written quickly, but surprisingly legible. It looked to me like someone who was used to writing fanciful and attractive lettering had tried to angrily scrawl the words on paper but couldn’t fight their artistic instincts.

“To The Queen Lady,

I don’t give a hoot ‘on whose behalf’ you make your demands, you’re not getting him back. He already told me what happened, and the rumors do their own talking. You seduced The Bog King and you freed The Potion Plague. You’re at least as much monster as them, and I ain’t turning my star over to no training-wheels tyrant.

You can’t fool me. I was The Gnome Emperor’s fool for decades. I worked hard to get myself out of that life, and I wouldn’t wish it on nobody, not a worm. You want me to truss up and turn in my star? Just so you can lock him back up and kick him around? Make him juggle? Make him walk on a ball while you throw fruit at him? You noble types are all the same. When I picked him up out of the western border dirt, I saw how torn up he was. I know what you did to him. If your entertainment runs off, it’s on your own account and your own bad behavior. Whatever ‘grievous bodily harm’ you say he did, you probably had it comin.  

So no, I’m not gonna ‘return him to face judgement.’ I’m gonna give him the life you never woulda thought to. He’s a star here, and he gets treated with respect.

You’re not gonna get your way, your royal lowness, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Any peasant with two shprekens to rub together gets to see the marvelous performances of Roland The Clown, and you never will again, you living dung beetle ball.

I have connections at court. Had to have, or I’d be chained to the throne to this day. You try to take him by force and I’ll make sure the answer is war. 

Who’s the royal fool now?

Ringmaster Charles Bigley,

Bigley’s Bombastic Gnome Circus”

The four of us stood in silence as we tried to puzzle out what this meant.

“He’s a clown now?” I asked.

“We won’t be able to administer justice this way,” said Bog. “Not unless we consult with the Gnome Emperor directly, and even then it will be risky. I hadn’t realized there was such dissent in his court.”

“It sounds like I’m pretty unpopular in the East,” said Marianne. “That complicates our alliance further, Bog.”

Comfit smiled wickedly. “He left fingerprints. If you want me to play dirty, I could show this ‘Ringmaster Bigley’ what kind of a fool we take him for.”

“Guys.” 

Everyone looked at me, faces still deadly serious. 

“Roland’s a clown now.”

Marianne blinked at me. The other two looked at me like I was missing something very obvious.

“We won’t be able to-”

“He’s a clown,” I said, slowly. “He’s a clown in a circus. Roland’s a clown.”

Marianne let out half a snicker, then bit it back and glanced up at Bog. His eyebrows were still furrowed. He took the letter from me and re-examined it.

“This ‘Bigley’ person is concerning. If he actually has this level of influence in the Gnome Empire political scene I should have heard of him before now.”

“Do you think Roland has to wear a wig?” asked Marianne. Her voice squeaked with the effort of holding back laughter. “Do you think he has to wear a clown wig over his stupid, perfect hair?”

Bog exhaled a little too hard, but managed to reign in a full snort. He squared his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is serious. We can’t just-”

“Do you think he juggles? Or is he more of a pratfall sort of clown?” Marianne put a hand over her mouth and let out a tiny scream-laugh. “What if he rides a tiny bicycle? With his armor clanking and everything?”

“He wouldn’t have armor,” I said. “Clowns don’t wear armor. He probably wears those big goofy shoes.”

Marianne crumpled to hands and knees and started laughing so hard that she had to wheeze just to get air in.

Bog raised a hand to his eyes, but I could see his chest shaking slightly. Whether he actually thought it was funny or just found Marianne’s laughter contagious, I couldn’t tell. “We can’t ignore the political implications of this. There’s more at stake-”

“He’s a clown, Bog!” Marianne squeaked from the floor. “A clown! In the circus!”

“I got that, yes, I read the same letter.” Bog dragged his hand down his face, but he couldn’t hide the smile.

“Stupid squeaky nose!” Marianne had rolled onto her back and giggled breathlessly. “Pie in the face! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“This is-” Bog at this point had to try very hard not to laugh. “Look, we can ban this circus from crossing our borders, but if Roland is still at large, he can still cause problems for us. What if he leaves the circus and sneaks past the border? What if he circumvents us and returns to the Fairy Kingdom?”

“He won’t do that,” I said. “Daddy is very, very upset with Roland, and everybody back home knows what he looks like, and they know Daddy will give them a big reward if they turn him in. So even if Roland tries to go back home he won’t last long, and he definitely won’t be able to get to any of us.”

Tears streamed down Marianne’s face. “Clown wanted, dead or alive,” she choked. 

Bog stopped laughing and looked at me curiously. “He put out a reward?”

“Daddy?” I asked. “Yeah, ages ago. When the soldiers went back, all of them said that Roland had gotten a Love Potion from a talking lizard? But then, they said, it turned out it wasn’t really a Love Potion, it was actually magical lizard poison, and he almost killed Marianne, and then he ran away. And Daddy said that he had to take attempted Reggy’s side seriously, and I don’t know who Reggy is, but-”

“Regicide?” asked Bog.

“I just told you I don’t know who that is.”

He looked me up and down. “Are you sure you’re not a goblin?” He shook his head. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. When did this happen?”

I thought back. “Well, the bit about Reggy was right after we got back, but then Roland still wasn’t back after a week, so that’s when Daddy offered a reward.”

Bog seemed to think very hard about this, then looked down at Marianne, who was slowly regaining the ability to breathe. 

“Do you think…” Bog crossed his arms. “It doesn’t seem likely at this point, but 'regicide.' If that’s the sort of language he’s using…”

“What is it?” I asked.

“That word doesn’t refer to the killing, or I suppose attempted killing, of any member of the royal family. It tends to refer to the killing of a ruler, such as a king or queen. While it seems more likely that he simply misused the word, is it possible that he still sees Marianne as his heir?”

Marianne laughed again, but this time it was one loud, sarcastic blast that didn’t leave her breathless at all. “No.”

“Of course he does,” I said.

Bog looked surprised, but Marianne looked at me as if I’d grown four new heads.

“It’s all he talks about!” I pulled my dress out so it poofed at the tummy, crossed my arms, and spoke in a lower voice.

“‘Blah blah blah, how could Marianne just abandon us like this? Doesn’t she realize that she has responsibilities as the future ruler of this country? How am I supposed to take care of Dawn on my own? How am I supposed to keep Dawn out of trouble? Blah blah blah. You can’t build a mud spa in the throne room, Dawn. How did you even get all of this mud in the throne room, Dawn? What in the world made you think this was a good idea? Where did this mud even come from? How am I supposed to focus when my throne room is caked in mud, Dawn? I don’t know how relaxation works! Blah blah blah! When is Marianne coming back? Who’s going to clean up this mud? No wonder the poor girl acted oddly, this place is an insane asylum! Blah blah blah!” 

I straightened my dress and floofed my hair back. “He can be very annoying. Luckily he is very slow at flying, and he doesn’t know any of my good mud spots.”

Marianne, for all of this, had not gotten up from the ground. By now she’d been laughing so hard and so long that she couldn’t make noise. She just wheezed silently as tears streamed down her face.

“And before anyone asks,” I continued, “yes, I hate mud and I hate getting muddy, but! Spa mud is different from regular mud because spas make you pretty and relaxed, and Daddy really needs to be both of those things, basically as soon as possible, so I am willing to make the ultimate sacrifice and get covered in mud. For the greater good.”

“This is the best day of my life,” sputtered Marianne.

Bog sighed, then looked past me and cocked one of his weird, woody eyebrows. “Comfit? You’ve been quiet for a while. What are your thoughts on this?”

She looked up, a little taken aback. At some point she had nabbed the letter from Bog and had taken a few steps away from the rest of us to pore over it. “If you’re asking me, I think we’re overlooking something of vital importance,” she said.

“Oh?”

She pointed to the letter. “This guy called me The Potion Plague. That is easily the coolest nickname I’ve ever had, and I need it embroidered on everything I own immediately.”

Bog let out a sigh, but it didn’t sound like one of his ‘tolerating loveable antics’ sighs. It sounded like an ‘I’m actually starting to get irritated from the antics and Dawn should probably go home soon’ sighs. I stretched nonchalantly and turned a little bit toward the mushroom path at the edge of the tree line, just in case he asked me to leave.

“I hate to bring down the mood, but I’m actually concerned about this,” he said. “Marianne? What will you do if your father actually names you his heir?”

Marianne sat up. Her breath was still shaky, but she could mostly make coherent noises now. “I haven’t really thought it through yet? It didn’t seem like a possibility until just now.” She took several deep breaths and tried to calm herself. “Um… Ruling at a distance would be difficult, I think, but not impossible. Especially if we have time to plan ahead for it. Maybe we could set up a council to run the day-to-day things without me? Or Mirabelle could set something up to project my image into the throne room. We have time to sort out the details.”

“Oh.” Bog’s voice was a little bit higher than usual, like it was strained, but he was trying very hard not to show it. “So, you would still want to live here, then?”

Marianne was silent for one long moment, then she pressed both hands in front of her mouth and looked up at Bog, all sympathy. “Did you really think I’d want to leave?”

He blushed, and his shoulders tightened just the slightest little bit, like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing.

“Oh, Bog. Of course I want to stay with you.” Marianne pulled up off the ground and flitted to Bog. She pressed her hand to his cheek and kissed him gently on the lips.

I looked away out of politeness. I didn’t think they were about to ram their tongues down each other’s throats or anything, but still. That was my sister.

“Boooo!” yelled Comfit, staring right at them. “Get a room! Lame! We’re right here!”

Marianne whipped around and yelled right back. “You were literally planning our wedding ten minutes ago!”

“Sorry! I didn’t realize you were planning on having the honeymoon right in front of us!”

Bog wrapped his arms around Marianne’s waist and leaned his head on her shoulder. “First we’ll have Comfit’s funeral, and then we can use her tombstone as a centerpiece for the wedding.”

“That sounds beautiful, Bog.”

He didn’t move away, just kept his head on her shoulder. He kept talking, loud enough that Comfit and I were clearly meant to hear, but I didn’t know if it was polite to look at them or not so I kept my head turned. “We will have to arrange a meeting with King Dagda. It will be easier to plan for the future if we can actually take measures in the present. Dawn?” He raised his head to look at me, so I figured it would be fine to look back. “The next time you see him, would you be willing to pass on a message that we would like to arrange a meeting? I can write up an official request, if that would make it easier.”

“Of course! No problem!” I said. Then I looked away again, in case they were going to smooch some more.

“Write up the formal request,” said Marianne. “She’ll need it.”

Some small part of me wanted to be offended, but she was right. I would probably need it. If I tried to talk to Daddy on my own he’d just yell at me about responsibility and obligations and mud. He really needed to lie back and relax.

Actually, speaking of needing to lie back…

I tapped Comfit on the shoulder, glad to have a good reason to look away from the weirdly long-lasting embrace of my sister and her boyfriend-stickbug-husband-guy. “Hey, Comfit? I told Sunny what you said about health potions, but the headaches are still giving him trouble.”

Comfit gave me a look of affronted confusion that I couldn’t really understand. “Did you just call me Comfit? ”

“Yeah? That’s your name?”

She looked almost hurt. “That’s- I get why Boggy Woggy calls me that, but you always call me Mirabelle. Why are you using my last name?”

I couldn’t understand why she looked so distressed. It wasn’t a big deal or anything. “We’re with Marianne today,” I said.

She kept making her confused face at me.

“Oh come on, this one’s obvious,” I said. “‘Marianne’ and ‘Mirabelle’ sound way too close to each other, and I don’t want to get confused about which of you is which.”

Marianne stepped away from Bog and gave me her version of the confused look. 

“We look nothing alike,” she said.

“We sound nothing alike,” said Comfit.

“They’re basically nothing alike,” said Bog.

I shook my head. “They’re both three syllables long, with the same kinds of vowels, and they both start with ‘M,’ and-”

“Not the names, us! You can’t tell us apart?” asked Marianne.

I just laughed. “Of course I can! ‘Comfit’ starts with a ‘C!’”

Comfit rushed forward, grabbed both of my shoulders, and violently shook me back and forth. “Why are you like this? I have to know! Tell me how your brain works!”

“It works very well!” I said, but it was hard to enunciate through the shaking.

Marianne grabbed me, and Bog grabbed Comfit, and after a few moments of struggle they dragged us apart. Comfit was still staring at me like I was an alien that she desperately wanted to probe.

“Did I perform some horrible experiment on you and forget about it?” asked Comfit. “That doesn't sound like something I'd forget, but this can’t be natural.”

“I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. What do I tell Sunny?” She blinked at me a few times, and I was pretty sure she’d gotten distracted and forgotten my question. That seemed to happen to her a lot. “I know you told him to take health potions, but he says the nurses won’t give him any. That’s why he didn’t come today, he thought he’d get hit with another wave.”

Ever since he had woken up from his Luck Potion coma all those weeks ago, Sunny’s health had been improving. He’d regained the weight he lost, he still didn’t remember anything that had happened, and we were mostly back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans. But he kept getting these headaches, which he said weren’t terrible or anything, they weren’t proper migraines or anything debilitating like that, but as soon as he got one he would basically have to go lie down in a dark room for a few hours, and it was really slowing down Project Put-A-Mud-Bath-In-The-Throne-Room-So-Daddy-Can-Finally-Relax. 

The last time we’d talked, Comfit had said it was ‘Temporal Overexposure’ and that the headaches would go away on their own sometime in the next decade, but a health potion would get rid of the pain in under a minute.

“They won’t give him any health potions?” asked Comfit. “Why not? It’s not like they have negative side effects. They’re not even addictive. They should be passing those things out like candy.”

I shook my head. “The main nurse lady said that there are only two or three potion makers back home that can actually make health potions? And they all charge a lot of money. So they don’t like to use any potions at all unless they absolutely have to.”

Comfit considered this, and her shoulders started to do that spring-trap tension thing from before.

“Boggy Woggy? I would like an exception to be made regarding my contract.”

“Out of the question.”

“They’re price gouging health potions, Boggy. Do you have any idea how cheap the materials are? How easy they are to make? I could make two dozen in the next ten minutes!” Her eyes lit up. “Actually, Boggy? Request rescinded. I don’t need any primrose potions for these.”

He grimaced. “Somehow I’m not reassured.”

“Dawn? Tell Sunny- No, you won’t need to tell him. I’ll give you all the health potions you need. And a couple hundred you don’t need. You’re staying for at least a few more hours, right? I’ll have the Fairy Kingdom drowning in health potions. I’d have to set a new record, but I bet I could make a thousand before dark. Boggy? I’ll need volunteers to take them to the border.”

“I can’t allow that.”

Marianne put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. “I don’t think you’ll be able to talk her out of this one.”

Bog raised a finger to object. Marianne put her hand on his and shook her head.

“But what if she-”

“I want to ruin these people and you will not be able to stop me,” said Comfit. “I am going to end their pathetic little careers. I’ll even do it legally if that's what it takes, but I am going to do it.”

Bog pointed a glare toward Marianne and pulled his hand away. “But what if she slips in some modified potions with the rest?” he finished. “Even if they’re not fueled by primroses, we’re still talking about releasing potions en masse.”

“They’re price gouging medical necessities,” said Comfit.

“Your nickname is The Potion Plague and you're proud of it," said Bog.

“I have an idea!” I said.

Everyone turned to look at me, with mismatched expressions of dread, exasperation, and utter glee.

“What if you make ten health potions? I’ll pick five of them at random to give to Sunny, and I’ll give the other five to the nurses. That way you can’t risk putting anything weird in them, or Sunny will probably get sick, and I’ll be very sad, and Marianne and Bog will murder you and dance around your grave!”

Bog and Marianne exchanged a series of looks, and it seemed like they were having an entire conversation in front of us without speaking. I had no idea what they said, or didn’t say, but apparently they decided this was acceptable and Bog nodded in approval.

Comfit frowned, but mostly it looked like pouting. “Five health potions will hardly put these people out of business.” 

“Five health potions today! But with the way Sunny has been getting headaches, he’ll need more in a few days. And then again a few days after that.”

I took Comfit’s weird sparkle hands and gave her my most winning smile. “If you very, very slowly make it so that nobody has to buy more health potions, then at first the expensive potion sellers are just going to think it’s a slow week, and business will pick up again soon. And then they'll think it's just a slow couple of weeks. And they won’t realize their jobs are in trouble until it’s too late, and they won’t even know why, and then they’re going to just panic panic panic and it’ll be hilarious!”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

Tears welled up in Comfit’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you. The student has finally surpassed the master.”

Bog dragged both hands down his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Marianne, but I’m so surprised you turned out sane.”

“Yeah, welcome to the club.”

He shook his head. “I think I’ve reached my limit for today. I need to go write up that request for Dagda before I forget.”

“Or go mad.”

“Or that, yes.”

Marianne picked up her staff and Bog’s sword from the ground where they had been dropped. “I’ll go with you then. I’m exhausted.”

Comfit was still holding my hands, but she turned toward Marianne. “I’ll set aside one of the health potions for you, so you don’t get sore. I’m going to get started on the ten for Dawn. And the next hundred or so, just to have them ready.”

“And you’ll set one aside for Bog?”

Comfit pouted again, but gave a little nod.

“Good. Dawn?”

“I’ll stay here. I’m not ready to go in yet.”

Marianne looked skeptical. “Promise you won’t get lost? The Dark Forest can be dangerous if you don't know what to look out for.”

She worried too much. Goblins weren’t the brightest things on the planet, but it wasn’t like they would be stupid enough to attack me. Nobody would attack a fairy in the Dark Forest, on the off-chance it might be someone Marianne liked. Everybody knew that she was basically the queen, even if she and Bog weren't actually married yet. Or engaged. Or even technically planning a wedding at all.

Whatever. Even if I was right, Marianne was better at arguing than I was, and I wasn’t in the mood to take her on. “I’m staying right here. And if I need to go somewhere else, the mushroom path is right there.” I pointed behind me.

She found this acceptable. With one tight hug, she left to follow Bog back toward the new castle.

Comfit leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “One day I will cross-section your brain. For science.”

I gave her a cheek-smooch right back. “I love you too, Mirabelle.”

She looked at me, looked at my sister’s departing back, then shook her head and left as well.

I was alone.

I laid myself out on the boulder and looked up into the visible section of sky above the tree line. It was the last hour or so of blue skies for the day, and fluffy clouds drifted overhead. I could watch the sunset while I walked back home later.

This was all so perfect. I had gotten exactly what I’d wanted. Marianne was happy and in love, and Sunny and I were free to get up to our regularly-scheduled shenanigans. Roland was stuck leading an army of gnome circus-goers somewhere, and Daddy finally, finally had nice things to say about Marianne. She deserved a lot better than just that, obviously, but we'd get there. Baby steps.

And to top it all off, I had a new best friend! Not a new bestest friend, of course, Sunny was irreplaceable. But Mirabelle Comfit was very nice, and very funny, and when she talked about chopping my brain up she didn’t even do it in a mean way. 

The world was beautiful, and we were happy.