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Chapter Text

Soft humming is accompanied by even softer footsteps as Marianne walks through the corridors of her home. The young imp within her arms yawns but resists sleep, a normal occurrence as the days rapidly approach the time for winter hibernation. She chuckles softly and pushes away her thoughts before running her fingers through the black patch of fur to soothe the stubborn child.

"You know you can't stop hibernation from coming," she comments, smiling in amusement at the defiant trill and nod.

Pausing a moment in her walk, Marianne reaches behind with one hand to rub her lower back to try and relieve the pressure. Dealing with two stubborn young isn't how she pictured spending the night of the Wild Hunt. An imp who refused to sleep and an infant who was taking their sweet time being born.

Griselda just had to mention about being pregnant with Bog for twenty-three months, didn't she? Sure, being a fairy she would naturally be pregnant for twenty-four months but she was hoping for shorter pregnancies thanks to the goblin blood. One never realizes how many things one does until they're forced not to do them on account of being heavy with child.

She couldn't wait until she's allowed to spar again!

Marianne chuckles once more before resuming her walk down the corridor, adding whispered words to the song she was previously humming. The soft lyrics weave their magic spell and soon snores emanate from the figure curled against her chest.

"That's cheating," Plum snickers quietly.

"Like you never did it yourself," Marianne comments, glancing over to her sudden companion. "In fact, I'm absolutely sure that you have. I remember lots of times where I had too much energy to sleep and then you would start singing that song and I'd be waking up in the morning with no idea how I fell asleep."

"I admit nothing," Plum murmurs, grinning unrepentantly with a shrug before shifting to her true form to join the younger female walking to the royal nursery.

"Since you're here, then I take it that everything is as it should be?" Marianne questions.

"Everything is perfectly fine. The borders are free of uninvited guest and the Wild Hunt is going along splendidly," Plum informs.

"You must think I'm worrying too much, sending you out like that," Marianne sighs.

"Absolutely not. It's perfectly understandable after that chaotic year," Plum comments. "Even if you never asked me, I would patrol the borders myself to keep anything like that from happening again. I should have just done that in the first place when I moved into the Light Field."

"But then the good things that were the result of that year would never have happened," Marianne murmurs with a fond smile, rubbing her enlarged stomach.

"Well, your father also made me promise to be on my best behavior so none of those ex-councilors of his had a leg to stand on concerning their arguments about me. Told him that he was worrying over nothing," Plum mutters, running a five-fingered hand through long blonde hair.

Marianne snorts and rolls her amber eyes. It wasn't Dad that was worried. He had confidence that those in the Light Field would accept Plum if they knew the truth and he was sure that she and Dawn would have no problem over it either.

Which they didn't.

She glances over to her companion once more and smiles softly to the figure walking beside her. That fateful year had not ceased its surprises on Lughnasa. It had several more things to reveal, like the true identity of the person who was like a second mother to her.

For as long as Marianne can remember, everyone had wondered about what creature the Sugar Plum Fairy really is. No one knew because Plum could shapeshift into whatever she wanted and only the shimmering blue glow that always surrounded her revealed who she was. Those that were old enough to remember what she looked like before her captivity had sworn that she looked far different than the Plum that returned to the Light Field and Captain Tigler had commented when King Elatha captured her that she looked different than when his elder brother Jacknick purchased the potion.

Plum was an enigma. She took many forms and had many names and she never talked about herself unless it was about things that you already knew.

Then that fateful Lughnasa happened. Kaiden turned out to be a wealth of information instead of just a nuisance and unlike Dagda, who knew more than he let on, the pooka had made no promise to keep it a secret.

Almost all those in every kingdom knew about the more dangerous denizens of the Great Mountain, as a warning to avoid the gigantic kingdom at all costs, and it was common knowledge how glaistigs were born. One of the few uncommon fae, born not of birth but created by death. Like the other fae of their unique birth, they were once creatures called human but glaistigs were always kind female humans that treated even the fae that crossed into their domain with kindness and respect. They harbored within themselves no hatred or malice in life but the humans that became glaistigs were always murdered without justice and their violent deaths left their souls shattered, leaving them unable to ever find rest.

Just the knowledge that Plum is a glaistig was enough to silence those in the Light Field that were always wary about her. While it's true that glaistigs were unstable with malevolence, they could also be more benevolent than any other creature could be when treated fairly and it was obvious since her return thirteen summers prior that Plum held no bitterness over her captivity...except a playful remark here and there. Those that argued against her presence in the kingdom had felt sympathy for her with the knowledge, especially when Kaiden had revealed just why even King Dirk feared her.

As unique as glaistigs were, Plum was even more unique because in life she possessed magic of her own, a rare thing for the creatures native to that domain or so Marianne had heard in the old tales. Plum had been kind and hospitable to kin and stranger alike, no matter their alliance or ideals. The fae that crossed into that domain knew that she was a friend and even the more malicious fae respected her enough to never do their terrible deeds near where she resided.

But despite all that Plum had done, her kind feared and hated her. They blamed her for the plague that ravaged their kingdom and when she turned to her lover for him to prove that she was only trying to help, he attacked her and drowned her in a kelpie's pond. His betrayal was made worse with the revelation that all his talk of love was a trick to lure her into letting her guard down, that he had planned to kill her from the start and was even being paid to do so.

It's no wonder Plum had become so uncaring about friendship and love, having believed at her death that such a thing was falseness and lies. To add to that, King Dirk's ancestor had used charm and talks of love to trick the newly-born glaistig into leaving her native domain, forever trapping her in their domain so that he could have her use her magic to make him irresistible to any female he desired.

Up until a motherless thirteen-summer-old fairy offered a hearing heart to the very creature that was indirectly responsible for his mother's death, Plum had never known real love of any kind. She gave love but was offered no love in return. Inadvertently causing the great famine in her rage at being tricked had resulted in fear from the other residents of the Great Mountain and she decided to embrace the power it granted her, perceiving kindness as a weakness and relishing in causing chaos.

"What are you thinking about?" Plum questions.

"Right now? About the day after Lughnasa when Kaiden told us about who you were before Grandpa imprisoned you," Marianne answers. "My mind keeps drifting back to the night I met Bog and everything that happened afterward. I'm just feeling nostalgic tonight, I guess."

"Are you sure that's all and not another premonition?" Plum asks cautiously, turning to gaze into Marianne's eyes.

"I'm sure. This feels nothing like I felt had then. I just feel peaceful and content," Marianne assures before groaning and stopping to rub her lower back again. "And pained! The infant has been so restless since they came out of stasis a few days ago and they just don't want to settle down tonight."

"Ooo, sounds very soon! Maybe tonight even!" Plum cheers.

"Wouldn't that be something if they're born the very night Bog and I met or even the day we became mates," Marianne murmurs.

"Wouldn't it be something if your husband winds up too drunk to even notice," Plum counters with a cackle.

"Fairy wine again?" Marianne questions, groaning at the giddy reply. "No matter how many times he winds up drunk, he still doesn't think fairy wine is as potent as goblin ale. He better not get drunk tonight of all nights or he's sleeping in the dungeons."

"Careful, my dear, threats like that will only wind up with you becoming pregnant again before this one's even weaned," Plum twitters.

Despite her immediate impulse to deny it, Marianne knows there's truth to that. Bog definitely becomes more amorous each time she displays an aggressive tendency and they had to find a getaway spot before they traumatized their subjects. Not that she is much different whenever it comes to him.

"How about I pop back through the kingdom and warn Bog of the possibility of the infant's coming tonight? It's not like he needs to stick around now that he started the festivities," Plum comments.

Marianne bites her lip slightly. On one hand, she didn't want to draw Bog away from the Wild Hunt since he had so few times where he could have unrestrained fun, what with all his responsibilities and all. But...

"Am I being needy if I'd rather he be here even if it might be a false alarm?" Marianne mumbles.

"Hardly," Plum scoffs, tilting her head and giving a mild reproving glare to the younger female. "Duty or no, if Bog knew you were close to giving birth, he would never have left to start the Wild Hunt earlier this evening."

"It's not that I was keeping it from him," Marianne defends softly, wilting slightly at the maternal reprimand in the blue eyes. "The infant was no more restless at the time of the start of the Wild Hunt than they have been and I didn't notice the difference until a little while ago."

"Bog would be upset if the infant came while he was not here, so it's better to be on the safe side. I'll be back as soon as I find him," Plum informs.

Pausing in her walk, Marianne turns her attention to Plum as her light bronze skin glows a shimmering blue and she catches a glimpse of a blonde-hair goat's hind underneath the long green velvet skirt before the figure beside her shifts to the shimmering blue ambiguous creature she grew up knowing. The transformation happens within a second and within another second, Plum darts out the nearest open window in a glowing blue flash, disappearing in the full moon-lit night.

Chapter Text

"Marianne, what are you doing awake? I thought you went to bed shortly after sundown," Dagda comments as he approaches before noticing the snoozing figure in her arms. "Ah! Still refusing to sleep, huh?"

"You know how it is the closer we get to hibernation time," Marianne murmurs.

"At least you know what to do now instead of having to deal with the horror of a sleep-deprived young imp. I don't think anyone is ever going to forget Puck's misadventures that mid-autumn," Dagda chuckles.

Marianne joins her father's laughter as he walks alongside her. It was understandable why Puck was afraid of going into hibernation but that didn't make it easier to deal with him when he needed sleep and refused to. She and Bog had nearly exhausted their entire reservoir of patience by the time the traditional day of the Wild Hunt came along.

She shakes her head in amusement looking back to that day. There was nothing humorous about that day and yet she can't help laughing every time she thinks of then. Bog had eagerly left the restored castle early that morning to see the nomadic tribes off, not even waiting for breakfast before he and his guards took off at high speed to escape the cranky imp and his equally-cranky mother. The newest residents of the kingdoms were busy preparing their dwellings for their pending hibernation, so Lysandra wasn't there to give the exhausted Marianne a break from the clinging Puck, and even her pixie handmaidens had returned to their villages to prepare for their own hibernation. She had no duties to fulfill since they had decided to forgo the plans for the revised Wild Hunt for fear of any trouble and the Samhain festival was several days away, leaving Marianne with nothing to do but trying to calm her overly-tired son.

In a fit of desperation when even a walk along the nearby stream didn't work, she started to sing her mother's most effective lullaby and wept with joy when snores emanated from within her arms. Tears of joy that turned to horror when she walked back into the castle only to find snoring goblins wherever she went. They looked as though they had fallen immediately asleep while doing their duties and no amount of shaking or yelling would awake any of them. Bog and his guards frantically returned as her scream reached even the farthest reaches of their kingdom.

They had discovered after the events of Lughnasa that her eyes glowed amber whenever she used the magic she inherited from her mother, so she knew that she had somehow caused this and refused to be consoled when Bog assured her that everyone just looked to be sleeping and in no danger of dying. Though a few did have to be moved to safer locations, especially when they realized that even those to the nearest surrounding villages had also fallen unnaturally asleep.

Plum was fetched but her second mother-turned-magic teacher could offer no comfort other than the fact that the spell was only temporary and that everyone would awaken refreshed and rejuvenated on their own in several hours. True to word, everyone awoke near sundown feeling more energized than should be for the coming night and their plan of not having the Wild Hunt was canceled out of sheer boredom.

"Mom's secret weapon to getting me to sleep and the day I accidentally discovered it will probably be remembered forever. It seems so funny looking back onto that day!" Marianne giggles.

"I know what you mean," he laughs. "It was a bit funny then as well. We were all feeling a little anxious and unnerved about the possibility of something happening just like the previous festivals that it felt almost disappointing that the only problem was you putting nearly half the Dark Forest denizens to sleep."

"That wasn't the only thing that happened at that time, remember?" she points out.

"Yes, but that was long overdue. Both of you should have known the truth about your mother when you became old enough to understand but then it turned to when you became of age and then to when Dawn became of age and then to after the wedding and then to...well, I'm glad things turned out the way it did or you probably wouldn't have known anything for a very long time if she had her way. You didn't get your stubbornness just from me, you know," Dagda remarks.

Returning the smile, Marianne lets her mind drift back to the morning of that Samhain festival. She had felt restless the moment she awoke and only grew worse after the purification baths. They had worried that meant that something would happen to spoil the festival now that they knew that her magic also included premonition but there were no warning dreams like the whole kingdom experienced before the Lughnasa attack and it was not like the uneasiness she and Bog had felt during Beltane and Imbolc. She was just restless, nothing more.

It was Griselda who suggested talking to Plum about it, pointing out that she would be able to tell if magic was involved or just something caused by the day. Bog had agreed and immediately called the royal guards for escort to the sprite colony. But what started as a quest for answers turned into revealing a lot more than expected when they were directed to the Light Field palace when Plum was not at home.

Searching for the missing glaistig became searching for the missing fairy king and then searching for the truth when she, Bog, Dawn, and Sunny overheard an exasperated "Theresa!" being growled out in the Royal Hall. Only Plum had looked guilty when Marianne and Dawn revealed themselves to hearing part of the conversation between her and the aged fairy king. Dagda had only looked smug as he started the tale as the Queen of the Dark Forest ordered.

It was quite a shock to hear the whole story of the female human named Theresa that was murdered and became the glaistig commonly known as Aura who was then imprisoned by a heartbroken fairy king before taking the name of the Sugar Plum Fairy when befriended by the king's son and becoming Theresa once more when love blossomed and bloomed through thirteen summers of friendship. But magic spells don't last forever and after thirteen summers of life anew, Theresa became the glaistig Sugar Plum Fairy once more and choose to keep such things a secret for fear of not being able to be with her daughters.

Dawn had taken the news much better than she did but that was probably because she had known Plum the most. Plum had always been there since the late summer of Dawn's fifth spring, so discovering that Plum was truly Mother had only made her ecstatic.

But for Marianne it was different. She had known Mother the most. Had watched as the active fairy queen grew weaker and weaker shortly after she turned ten that late spring and she had known what would happen as the ailing female started spending most days in bed before passing away in the early summer. She understood but she was uncertain and hurt.

"I still feel bad for how I reacted, though," Marianne murmurs.

"You shouldn't. We both understood that you needed time to come to terms with it," Dagda comments.

"I flew away without even talking to you," she reminds.

"And you came back a few hours later after you talked things out with Bog and Griselda," he counters. "It's a lot better than I acted when I found out that your grandfather knew Theresa was Plum the entire time. I was almost certain that your mother was right about her worries and reacted defensively before he even managed to finish what he was saying. Made a real fool of myself, too."

"You, make a fool of yourself? Not possible," Marianne teases.

"Be nice. I'm old," Dagda groans before yawning and flexing his dark red wings as he stretches. "These late nights are becoming a bit much for me. By the way, I felt Plum return and then leave again a little while ago. Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing wrong, just everything right," she answers, stopping momentarily to rub her lower back again. "The infant might be here soon and Plum went to get Bog just in case it's tonight."

"That would be something if the infant is born tonight! No doubt they'll be just like their mother then," he chuckles.

"And what do you mean by that?" Marianne questions.

"You were born on the day Plum was imprisoned," Dagda informs.

"Seriously? No one ever told me that," she comments.

"No one really talked about it but we both see it as a reminder of the good that came out of that day. Had that day not happened, nothing afterward would have happened, and that makes that day even more special despite it being a terrifying time," he explains before stopping with her as they reach the royal nursery and kissing her forehead beneath her wooden jeweled crown. "Try and get some sleep, dear."

Marianne smiles fondly as she watches her father continue his journey down the hall to his own chambers and she remembers a moment when she was much younger, watching her father, strong and proud in his green and gold armor, every inch a noble king as he walked away after saying similar words to her. She starts snickering after a few minutes before finally laughing quietly as she realizes that what her father meant about it being a terrifying time was not the time Plum was imprisoned but the time she was born.

Chapter Text

Marianne presses a soft kiss to the sleeping child's forehead before righting the blankets and making sure the worn goblin doll is safely within the slumbering grip. She pauses a moment more to gaze fondly at her son before turning her attention to the royal nursery's other awake inhabitant.

"How is she feeling, Griselda?" Marianne asks quietly.

"A lot better," Griselda answers, brushing a three-fingered hand through vibrant red wavy-curls. "I think she's still feeling a little ill, though, didn't put up as much fuss to go to bed as usual but the fever is gone."

"At least the worse of it is over," Marianne murmurs, walking over to the foot of the moss bed. "She'll probably have energy to spare tomorrow and get into a lot of mischief during the Samhain festival."

"Even sick, Matilda would do that. Just like her mother," Griselda quips.

Chuckling softly, Marianne gazes down at her sleeping daughter illuminated by the soft light. It's a wonder how much fierceness existed in such a small body. That and sheer stubbornness, but Marianne wouldn't have it any other way.

Matilda had been a handful since the day she was born ten springs ago. She may have been small but she was determined to make it, fighting for life and thriving despite the odds against her.

A fight her twin sister had been unable to win in the end.

Bog had been inconsolable when the pair were born with difficulty and even more so when the younger female was given a poor survival chance by the healers. He blamed himself for the sickness Marianne had contracted days before that had caused the twins to be born before they left stasis and he refused to be acquitted.

It was a foolish guilt since he had no way of knowing what had been planned but she understood why he felt so. The Placid Swamp was forever a source of pain to him and that they deliberately sent an ill goblin to seek an audience with the pregnant queen had been the last act his sense of mercy could endure as he watched their infant daughters fight for their young lives before the youngest lost the fight a week later.

No one felt remorse for the events that followed Mildred's pyre as Bog dealt a blow of vengeance against the goblins of the Placid Swamp that forever ceased their schemes. It had taken months for her husband's self-loathing to lessen after shedding so much blood but as Marianne and Matilda grew stronger, so did he.

Marianne sighs again and rubs her swollen stomach as her eyes trace the figure before her, longing to kiss the lanky child goodnight but knowing she couldn't. Small transparent-lilac black-tipped butterfly wings twitch slightly out of the blanket from the unseen images playing behind the eyelids covering green eyes before settling down as a soft smile graces the lightly freckled face. There was the fear that Matilda's wings would not be able to permit her to fly with their development interrupted and being smaller than they should be for her age but the young red-haired princess had defied the healers once more. Nothing slowed her down and it was a good thing she inherited most of her father's carapace or she'd be covered in scrapes like Marianne herself was at that age.

"Why don't you head to bed, Griselda?" Marianne suggests.

"Now that sounds like a good idea," Griselda chuckles softly. "I'm not as young as I used to be and two nights of putting such energetic young to bed are a little much."

"I'm sorry," Marianne mutters.

"Now don't go blaming yourself, little thistle," Griselda murmurs. "No one wants to take any chances after that year with Matilda and Mildred, even if it is just the sniffles. I love looking after the young ones anyway."

Opening her mouth to say more, Marianne closes it with an amused huff when she hears the sound of something hitting the floor before turning around to look at the state of her previous fixing. Once more the blankets are askew and once more the worn goblin doll is on the floor, while its owner sprawls with an arm and the opposite leg hanging off different sides of the bed.

"It's time to make Cathan go into the bigger bed," Marianne states with amusement.

"Oh spirits, that's going to be a fight," Griselda groans, getting up from the rocking chair.

"Maybe, maybe not. I think he might have finally figured out why having a bigger bed might be better," Marianne snickers, watching the little clawed foot twitch restlessly in the air.

The pair watch in amusement as amber eyes open blearily as a scowl crosses the five-summer-old's face and his clawed hand reaches out to grab the dropped toy. Cathan sits up momentarily before grabbing his blanket and walking toward the waiting adults with forlorn eyes.

Marianne motions silently toward the waiting larger bed next to Matilda's and tries not to smile as the young one glares at it before yawning. The sight is made much cuter by his short ash brown hair ruffled in all directions from his restless sleep but she manages not to show her amusement to the proud young prince.

"I like my bed, Mommy," Cathan pouts.

"It's too small for you and has been for a while," Marianne argues. "How many times have you woken up because you nearly fell out of it or because you lost Thom-Thom?"

"But it's not comfy like my bed!" Cathan whines, flaring his copper-patched transparent black-tipped dragonfly wings.

"Shh, it's past bedtime," Marianne admonishes softly before taking one of her son's hands and leading him to the other bed. "Matty has no problem in her big bed, does she?"

"No," Cathan mutters.

"And Mommy and Daddy have a big bed, don't we?" Marianne asks.

"Yes," Cathan mumbles.

"Don't you think you should try sleeping in your big bed?" Marianne continues.

"But what about blankie?" Cathan questions, holding up the blanket.

"Blankie is yours and can go to the big bed with you, just like Thom-Thom. Now, come on, tomorrow is a big day and you don't want to be tired," Marianne murmurs, removing the blankets on the other bed.

She's grateful for Griselda's help as the aged gobliness steps into action to tuck the young one into his new bed when a sharp pain causes Marianne's breath to hitch and she's even more grateful as Cathan manages to fall right back to sleep. Despite how stubborn the young male could be, they never have any trouble getting him to go to sleep.

Taking one last glance at the sleeping young, Marianne follows her mother-in-law out of the nursery and closes the door behind her. She lets out a groan as she rubs her lower back once more.

"Are you okay, little thistle?" Griselda asks worriedly.

"I'm fine. It's just the infant being very restless tonight, moving like crazy," Marianne explains.

"Maybe you should go lay down," Griselda suggests.

"I tried that earlier but that just made me restless," Marianne murmurs. "I'm just gonna go get some air in the courtyard for a bit. Plum went to get Bog, so he should be here before too long."

"I don't see why Plum insists on you and Dawn calling her that since everyone knows that she's your mother. I know, I know," Griselda mutters, waving off the explanation. "Being a glaistig she is essentially dead and even though she is your mother, at the same time she isn't since it was her living self that gave birth to you. Still a bunch of silliness, if you ask me."

Marianne obediently bends down to allow Griselda to kiss her cheek before returning the affection and giving her a firm hug. Thinking back onto the events of that fateful year only reminds her how precious the elder female is and how so many times they've nearly lost her. But through it all, Griselda always stood firm...and bossy.

She laughs once more as Griselda gives a playful threat about the consequences of not being woken up if the infant is born before morning before she slowly heads toward her own chambers. Despite the near lack of color in her frizzy red-white hair, the queen mother is still the same as she was that first Samhain morning.

Chapter Text

The courtyard is uncharacteristically silent but that's to be expected for the day and the hour, so Marianne feels no unease as she walks into the moonlit area. She pauses a moment to breathe deeply of the cool air before silently cursing at herself for forgetting a covering as a shiver passes through her. It was much too chilly for her to be outside for long without a cloak.

Not that it stopped her before.

She chuckles softly as her mind drifts back to the events of her first meeting with Bog all over again. Such a pity that slutty dress didn't survive the castle's destruction. She doesn't know who was more disappointed, her or Bog, over that discovery but at least they had an eternal memorial in that royal portrait to commemorate their first year.

Another shiver disrupts her nostalgia.

She'd better get a cloak.

"Your Majesty."

Marianne smiles gratefully at the tall male fairy as he approaches and allows the heavy cloak to be settled on her shoulders. She instantly recognizes Bog's scent on the fabric and her smile turns whimsical once more. It seemed everything was reminding her of that time, even when she wasn't looking for the connection.

"Thank you, Rowan," she murmurs. "You brought the king's cloak, though."

"His Majesty left the cloak here for you. He figured that you might get restless with the infant close to coming and that you would take comfort in it," Rowan explains. "He also said that he was to be summoned to return home should you desire it. Shall I send a guard to retrieve the king?"

"No need. Plum already left to get him," Marianne mentions before smirking as she notices the lack of surprise in the royal guard's green eyes. "I take it that the worrywart king also left instructions that I was to be watched."

"Not so much that your privacy was invaded but yes," he mutters, smiling sheepishly as he scratches his cheek with a finger.

Chuckling once more, Marianne strolls toward the courtyard's entrance with the armored fairy guard walking in step behind her. She knows that if she looked behind she would see Rowan's hand upon the hilt of his sword as his eyes scan the surrounding area relentlessly and his glamoured black and white androgynous wings flickering slightly in anticipation. The youth took his duties of protecting the royal family seriously, far more than any other and especially more than his deceased brother ever did.

He had first been hesitant to express his desire of becoming a guard when he became of age. He feared that Roland's actions would forever hang upon him and that no one could ever trust him in such a position. Even though no one held it against him, his fear remained. Captain Tigler had taken the youth under his tutelage because he too knew what it was like to feel eternally branded by a relative's actions and it wasn't long before Rowan climbed the ranks.

Unfortunately, he still had trouble removing himself from the guilt that should be Roland's alone.

"I would have thought that you would be enjoying the Wild Hunt with Blaire tonight instead of looking after me. It is a special one, after all," Marianne comments.

"Um...well...it's uh...," Rowan stutters.

"She loves you, you know that, and I know you love her," she murmurs.

"I...I do love her but it's...it's not that easy. I won't be like Roland," he mumbles, moving to walk beside her.

"You are not Roland!" Marianne states firmly, putting every ounce of her regal bearing into her gaze toward the younger fairy.

"I may not be but I could be and I won't let that happen," Rowan comments.

"Do you really think punishing yourself and Blaire is the answer?" she questions.

"Blaire will find someone more worthy of her," he murmurs.

Marianne shakes her head in exasperation at the nonsense. It's clear that the thought of Blaire loving someone else pained Rowan but he truly felt it to be the better option.

Silly male. Noble but silly.

"Blaire is too headstrong to change her mind. If waiting this long hasn't done it then nothing will. You know that," Marianne states with a teasing tone.

"But maybe if you or the king...," Rowan tries.

"Absolutely not. We're staying out of it," she interrupts. "This is between you and Blaire. Though I do warn you, she has mentioned something about throwing you in the dungeon until all those foolish ideas are out of your head."

"She'd do it too," he mutters under his breath before sighing. "It's just Roland..."

"Is dead," Marianne interrupts again.

"Is he? Sure, Rowena and I saw King Vincent's guards execute him along with our parents but...How could she!" Rowan growls out.

The change of attitude and topic makes Marianne blink in confusion. Out of all the guards present at the castle, Rowan was always the most levelheaded, hence his position as the highest-ranking captain of the royal guards, and it's a strange sight to see the youth gripping his sword as his wings flicker rapidly to relieve the tension. Only two people had the ability to unnerve him this badly and this time, it isn't Blaire.

"I take it that the letter Blaire mentioned you received was not good news?" she guesses.

"It's bad enough that Rowena chose to return to the Breezy Meadow and marry that...," Rowan coughs to cover up what he was about to say when he notices his queen's dry look. "Okay, Marlin isn't that bad, even for a Breezy Meadow fairy, but it's aggravating that that kingdom was willing to execute us as well had it not been for those scouts reminding them how angry you would be if they did execute us for a crime not our own and Rowena happily returned there as if nothing happened. Like that whole incident didn't even matter to her!"

"You know better than that, Rowan," Marianne chides gently.

"I know," he sighs. "I just can't help it. Rowena went back to where we would have died if it wasn't for you, married the son of one of those who were willing to put us to death, and now...Roland was more responsible for our family's death than even King Vincent and I know she idolized him but how could she think it was right to name their first son after him?"

"Rowena may have idolized Roland but she never condoned his actions. I'm sure she probably explained in her letter why she chose to name her son after him," she starts before sighing at the wince overcoming the thunderous expression adorning her companion's face. "You didn't read the whole letter, did you?"

"Not entirely," Rowan admits.

"If you don't want to become like Roland, then stop acting like him," Marianne states bluntly.

She ignores the statue-impersonating fairy and continues making her way to the royal stables. Maybe it's because of her restlessness caused by the approaching birthing or maybe it's because there is a time when enough is enough but she was thoroughly fed-up with the younger male's insecurities at the moment. Sometimes a little tough love is needed, especially if it will keep Rowan from continuing to hurt the two most important females in his life.

It doesn't take long for the royal guard to shake off his stupor but his shock keeps his wings from working and he quickly runs after his charge, barely reaching her before she enters the stable's courtyard.

"Am I really acting like Roland?" Rowan questions hesitantly, cringing at his queen's stony expression.

"Why do you really not want to pursue a relationship with Blaire? And not one of your excuses either! I don't want to hear a thing about Roland or what your family did. You were nine at the time and had no power to change anything, so what they did does not reflect you," Marianne comments instead. "You already explained why you didn't beforehand and it was understandable but it's been three summers since Blaire became of age and she still lays all her affection on you despite the many admirers vying for her attention. I want to know why you keep refusing Blaire."

"I...I don't know," he murmurs after awhile, lowering his eyes as Marianne looks toward him.

"Alright. Then answer this, why are you still angry at Rowena? Don't try to deny it!" she warns as he opens his mouth reflexively. "You were angry when Rowena agreed to Marlin's courting, you were angry when they married, and you were angry when she moved to the Breezy Meadow. Rowena loves Marlin and he loves her with equal fervor, you know that. You also know that Rowena is safe, as not one Breezy Meadow denizen would dare incur this kingdom's wrath by attacking her or her family. You should be proud of her."

"I am proud of her!" Rowan states firmly.

"You don't show it and you haven't for a while. Roland was smart but he was selfish. Everything he did, he did for himself. You know that better than anyone else," Marianne remarks. "You're scared to accept Blaire because you're still measuring yourself against him. Everything you do, you compare with what Roland did, the younger brother forever trying to live up to the older brother. You feel that you'll always be less than him and because of that, you hurt Blaire just to make yourself feel better."

"I would never harm Blaire!" he denies fervently, flaring his wings.

"But you do, Rowan," she argues softly, continuing to ignore him as she pets her attention-demanding royal mount. "You hurt her every time you refuse her affections with petty excuses."

"She never said anything," Rowan mutters.

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt her all the same," Marianne counters. "Just like Rowena. She sends a letter to you with every courier but how many have you sent her? One every six or so couriers? Just as you do your duty to this kingdom by keeping the royal family safe, so does she do her duty by being the residential ambassador in the Breezy Meadow. You hurt Rowena all because you're afraid of anything involving the Breezy Meadow. You're stuck in that terrible time when you had to deal with the consequences of your family's actions but time has moved forward and now your own actions are forcing both Blaire and Rowena to deal with the painful consequences of your fear."

"I really am acting like Roland," he groans.

"You could always tell me I'm wrong and explain how not one of your actions concerning those two have anything to do with you and that it's really their own fault for not understanding why their positions bother you," she mentions.

"I'm not that much like Roland," Rowan quips, grinning lopsidedly. "Aunt Laverna would probably be lecturing my ears off right about now, wouldn't she?"

"Probably no more than she did when you got angry after you discovered that Rowena agreed to Marlin's courting but yes," Marianne confirms. "You could start repairing your relationship with Rowena by reading all of that letter she wrote and have one written in reply for the courier to deliver when they leave the day after tomorrow."

"Or I could accompany them to the Breezy Meadow and apologize to both of them in person," he starts before looking worriedly at her and quickly adding. "If that's alright with you, Your Majesty!"

"I think that's a splendid idea. It will also give you the opportunity to see your nephew and judge for yourself whether he'll take better care of that name than its previous holder," she mentions. "And you could also ask Blaire to accompany you. That'll give you both some time together without your duties interfering and maybe talk things out about your relationship."

"But what if I'm not the right male for Blaire?" Rowan asks softly.

"Isn't that for Blaire to decide?" Marianne counters, grabbing Rowan's sword from the belt and handing it off to an appearing attendant before working to remove Rowan's helmet. "You've been so worried about whether you are good enough to be with Blaire and that's not even a question in anyone's mind except yours. You are Rowan of Clover Green, High Captian of the Royal Guards, King's Champion of The Placid Swamp War, Savior of the Crown Princess, defender, protector, valiant, and true. There is no one more worthy to Blaire, not because of your achievements but because of your heart. Besides, most of the kingdom, including the king and I, already consider that you two have been courting for the past three summers, so why don't you figure it out yourself and accept Blaire's persistent affection already."

If it wouldn't break her faux regal haughtiness, Marianne would smirk at the rising blush adorning Rowan's face as she continued her speech. The youth always blushed every time she praised him and this time the blush is made worse when he realizes they're no longer alone when another attendant takes over removing sections of his armor to strip him down to his chainmail.

"Now, you are to change into your sparring clothes and join Blaire's group for the rest of the Wild Hunt," Marianne orders as the first attendant offers the mentioned clothing.

"But His Majesty ordered...," Rowan starts to protest.

"The Queen's personal guard is on his way, so your services are no longer needed tonight," she informs. "Go on, shoo! And while you're at it, take Fenric. He's bored and can do with the bit of exercise."

It doesn't take long before her royal mount is saddled and Marianne chuckles as she watches Rowan's brown-spotted yellow moth wings quickly disappear into the night-shrouded forest as the stoat happily runs at full speed to join the fun, caring little that his rider is not her. Poor Fenric. He's been more upset about her not being able to ride him these past few months than she has but even the queen has to obey the orders of the master healer.

Hoping that Rowan's present resolve won't falter once he's had enough time to overthink, Marianne sighs heavily before groaning and rubbing her lower back with both hands now that the royal guard was no longer in sight. It was a struggle to ignore the steady pain while she was talking to him but she knew if she let on how much it was bothering her then she never would have been able to get rid of the overprotective male.

For spirit's sake, he nearly matched Bog's fretting!

Chapter Text

A fast-moving blue glow catches Marianne's attention and she returns the acknowledging wave before her mother disappears through the bedchamber balcony window that the former king had left open for her return. It was another change caused by that fateful year. One that was very appreciated by the glaistig as she no longer had to be separated from her first and truest friend.

Once the truth was out and the people revealed their acceptance, things had changed dramatically for the pair. But at the same time, things had not changed at all. They still acted the same way toward each other as they had done for years with their friendship open for all to see. Bantering, bickering, teasing, and much laughter. In some ways, it seemed as if it was obvious that Plum was Queen Theresa and that everyone should have known.

There had been inquiries about why Plum never reperformed the spell that bonded her to the male fairy and granted her renewed life but the answer was bitter.

Marianne sighs as her memories replay that conversation Dawn had first initiated shortly before the first snows of that year. The younger princess had meant well, still completely ecstatic at the turn-of-events, that she hadn't thought things through before voicing the idea.

Not only was there the problem that their father would probably not survive losing the same amount of blood he had the first time the spell was cast but it was horrifying to know that the spell's end was basically their mother dying all over again. Dying once was bad enough but to experience dying twice seemed unbearable, no matter how nonchalant the ancient female was about it.

No, it was better the way things were. The pair had decided long ago when Plum allowed herself to give into Dagda's persistent affections that the time of them being lovers ended when the spell did. They were friends first and foremost, after all. But no one could deny how much they love each other.

Neither could anyone deny how sorrowful they now felt concerning the being that once made them afraid. Not even those of the Great Mountain knew how long a glaistig lived or even if they could ever die at all, so Plum was stuck in an endless life. She would continue living long after the youngest denizen in the kingdom grew old and no one could begrudge her the right to spend as much time with her family as possible in the relatively short time she has left with them compared to the years that await her.

"At least she won't be completely alone," Marianne muses softly, rubbing her stomach.

"Your Majesty?" Peta questions softly.

"Oh, it's nothing, Peta," she reassures the waiting attendant. "Just thinking out loud."

Peta nods in understanding before bowing and moving to help Nix gather Rowan's discarded armor to return to the barracks. The pair easily worked in unison with each other and Marianne smiles fondly as she watches them leave.

No two could seem more different. The stocky goblin-like Nix nearly towered over the large elf-like Peta, despite being three autumns younger, and newcomers were always shocked to learn that they were brothers. Some days it felt almost surreal as she watched the pair perform their duties around the castle that just one small twist of fate resulted in their unique births.

Sure, she could look at her own young and feel the same way but it somehow felt different whenever she saw one of Pare and Lizbit's young. The male elf and female goblin had no obligations that forced them to make such a life-changing decision at a moment's notice like she and Bog did. Their love had grown from a chance meeting shortly after Lizzie's Haven had been built and the fear of losing each other during the Lughnasa attack had spurred them to live life to the fullest, becoming the first true interkingdom mates during that evening's mateship ceremony.

Who would have thought that first Wild Hunt she spent with the goblins would result in this? And not just the varied couples filling the kingdom but everything?

Marianne's long ears twitch as she catches the faint sound of an echolocation and she turns her attention to the sky, fluttering her wings in excitement as she sees Bog's royal bat flying closer. She was so terrified that long-ago night, her mind filled with the old stories as they flew into the Dark Forest and she had resigned herself to her supposed fate of being the fearsome goblin king's pet for the sake of Dawn and of her kingdom but now...Griselda was right, it's so laughable that she actually thought that about Bog.

"You shouldn't be outside in this cold, Marianne!" Bog scolds softly as his mount lands in the stable courtyard.

"I'm fine and besides, Rowan gave me your cloak. Which you should have kept for yourself. You're not as young as you used to be, you know," Marianne comments with a smirk.

"Who's the worrywart?" he chuckles.

"You," she states firmly as he wraps his arms around her. "I have good reason to worry, my king, or did you forget two Samhains ago when it was you who was confined to bed with the sniffles?"

"Refresh my memories because all I can remember of those days is what led to this little one," Bog chuckles darkly as he pets her stomach before stiffening and growling loudly. "If you even think about it, you'll be grounded until the first snows!"

The loud growling groan echoing through the air makes Marianne shake her head in amusement and chuckle softly before looking past Bog to see the source of the aggravated noise now sitting at the front of Bog's royal bat's saddle instead of the back. It's clear what the fifteen-winter-old was planning as she holds the bat's reins in long clawed fingers but it seems that she forgot about the parental eyes-in-the-back-of-the-head.

"But it's not fair!" Ishild protests, turning pleading crystal blue eyes to her mother. "Tell him it's not fair, Mom! He got to go on the Wild Hunt the whole night when he was fifteen, so why can't I?!"

"But I stayed with my father the whole time. Since I'm going to be staying home, so are you," Bog states firmly, releasing his mate to turn to face to his headstrong daughter.

"It's not like there's any danger like there was in the old days. I could stay with Puck and he'll keep an eye on me," Ishild argues.

"You are staying home and that is final!" Bog growls.

"You are soooo...!" Ishild starts with a groan.

"Ishild," Marianne interrupts calmly.

"...stubborn," Ishild grumbles defiantly.

Marianne ignores Bog's petulant glare as she kicks his foot to silence his attempted reply and walks toward their daughter as she dismounts the grey bat. Despite her present surly attitude, Ishild eagerly melts into her mother's hug and returns it as her pale blue black-tipped butterfly wings flutter behind her.

"Don't be too hard on your father. You know he worries too much," Marianne murmurs lowly.

"I know," Ishild sighs before pulling back. "Granny Plum said the infant might be coming tonight."

"Possibly. Or maybe even tomorrow," Marianne confirms.

"That'd be cool if they're born on Samhain. It'd make a match set with me on Imbolc, Matty on Beltane, and Cath on Lughnasa," Ishild quips.

"Yes, I guess it would," Marianne chuckles. "Why don't you head to bed? It's going to be plenty exciting tomorrow no matter what happens."

Ishild gives her agreement, bending slightly to kiss her mother's cheek and bidding goodnight before flying off toward her bedchamer's balcony. Despite not inheriting her father's carapace, the sandy blonde-haired princess did inherit his height and Marianne mourns slightly at the reminder that her little girl is getting taller than her.

Apparently, she is destined to be like her mother-in-law.

"She hates me!" Bog whines, interrupting her thoughts.

Rolling her eyes with an amused sigh, Marianne turns her attention back to her husband and snorts at his sulking posture. Here was the most fearsome king in all the lands, pouting. Funny how some things never change no matter how much time has passed.

"Bog, we've been through this before. Our daughter does not hate you. She is of age to stretch her wings and you are hovering!" Marianne recites, poking his carapaced chest with each of the last three words.

"I can't help it," he groans. "She's just so young!"

"She'll be fine," Marianne insists. "Remember how worried you were about Puck and how well he turned out?"

"Puck was less stubborn," Bog counters.

She can't help her laughter at that. Surely, they are remembering two different children because she is absolutely sure Bog acted the exact same way when their first son started becoming independent. Not that it wasn't painful for her but she handled it much better...well, much better than that first winter anyway.

Marianne gives a self-deprecating smile at the reminder. Oh spirits, she was terrible when Puck finally succumbed to winter hibernation! It turned out that Puck's fear of waking up to find them gone was mild compared to her panic at the emptiness she felt at his absence. Not one day passed by that she didn't venture into the newly designated winter burrow chamber to check on him in the grass-filled niche he had chosen. Some days she checked more than twice.

Though, to be fair, she did check each of the niches in the chamber to make sure that all the slumbering imp families were fairing well for their first hibernation in a new location. She was so worried that they would lose one of their newest subjects during the winter months and Hermia's earlier admittance it was fairly common for some imps to not live to spring did not help. Especially when several families gained extra members during the last month of winter, forcing the new mothers to awaken early.

Neither her or Bog could stand by and do nothing as the females used what was left of their winter reserves to feed their infants. They didn't care if this was normal for them and that most female imps usually lost their first offspring. The imps were their subjects now and they weren't going to let them face possible starvation.

For all their worries that the imps would take affront to their interference, she and Bog had gained even higher respect from the imps when they awoke from hibernation to discover that not one of them died that winter thanks to their assistance and that all the first-time mothers kept their infants alive because of the extra food given to them by the royals. Even Plum was surprised when each of the imp families pledged their loyalty to Bog and Marianne's bloodline, something they had never done to the Great Mountain royal family.

"I know that look," Bog hums. "Thinking about something in particular?"

"Thinking about Puck growing up made me think of that first winter the imps spent in our kingdom. That was more frustrating than the winter before that!" Marianne groans.

"It was, but we got through it together," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her again.

"Yes, we did," she agrees. "That reminds me, though. I need to talk to Stuff. Lysandra mentioned when she dropped off our grandchildren that nine young females have confirmed being pregnant and we need to make sure that we're ready for the new mothers this winter."

"You can talk to Stuff later. Right now, you need to rest so you'll have the energy for our infant's birth tomorrow," Bog orders.

"Oh? And how are you so sure that the infant will be born tomorrow?" Marianne questions teasingly. "Bog? Bog, get back here!"

Cursing her inability to fly at the moment, Marianne walks after her husband as he slowly flies backward with that smug grin on his charming face. It's her turn to laugh, though, when he scowls at the offending object after he miscalculates how high he's hovering and hits his head on the top of the castle courtyard's entrance.

Yeah, some things never change.

Chapter Text

Marianne pauses in her task of removing her gold-embroidered green shift dress at the sound of the bedchamber doors opening and smiles as her husband enters before quickly closing the door at her half-dressed state. No matter how long they've been married and despite the fact that they've had children, she can't help the blush that crosses her face at the heated look he gives her as he quickly crosses the distance with his long legs to wrap her in his embrace.

"Have I told you lately how beautiful and intoxicatingly irresistible you are, my queen?" Bog purrs before nipping at her ear, smirking at her whimpering moan.

"Hmm, you mean since you last told me before you left to start the Wild Hunt? No. You must have gotten bored of me," she teases before smirking herself at his ragged groan when she scratches her fingers down his spine.

"Never!" he denies fervently. "Even when I pass this life, I will never have my fill of you! My wild one, as fierce and strong as a thousand storms, fire and chaos within your heart, never will anyone compare to the magnificence of you! In generations to come, our kingdom will tell fantastic tales of their greatest queen, such that their young will find hard to believe, and it'll still pale to the truth of you!"

No female could ever feel more loved as she felt now, Marianne is certain of that as Bog presses light kisses across her face between his words before continuing the kisses down her neck to her chest, worshiping her with each breath as he slowly lowers to his knees before her. He doesn't stop there. Taking the soft fabric from her hands, Bog slowly slides the dress down her form and kisses the newly-exposed skin with reverence. She can't stop the happy tears from gathering as he pays special attention to her enlarged abdomen and murmurs to their unborn offspring, especially as the infant responds to their father's voice and causes her skin to ripple with their movement.

"Our infant already loves you," Marianne hums. "Just like the rest of our children."

"Our infant doesn't know how exasperating I can be," Bog chuckles.

"I take it Ishild wasn't fully asleep when you checked on her," she guesses.

"Almost but not enough to deter her from demanding retribution for being forced to return home. Spirits, I pity the other kingdoms when she gets old enough to take part in the trade meetings!" he laughs. "Anyway, she wants to be allowed to stay up for the whole Samhain festival tomorrow and I told her that I'll talk to you about it."

"It is fair," Marianne agrees. "She is going to be an adult in three more winters, so we should start giving her a little more leeway."

"Letting her leave the nursery and have her own bedchambers is enough leeway," he mutters.

"That was five summers ago," she reminds with a laugh. "Speaking of which, Matilda should be getting her own bedchambers soon."

"I know, Matilda reminded me," Bog sighs, leaning forward to rest his forehead on her stomach before explaining at her question. "She had woken up to go to the privy when I looked in the nursery to check on them. Does every single one of our young have to be so much like us?"

"Dad calls it payback for all...," Marianne quips.

Anything else is cut off with a squeal as the kneeling goblin king rises quickly to his feet and gathers the fairy queen into his arms to carry her over to the waiting bed. She giggles as he gently lays her on the rose, fussing to arrange her just right, before reaching to grab her maternity nightgown and helping her into it. The dried lavender and chamomile stuffed within the rose's petals give off their fragrance at being disturbed and Marianne giggles harder when Bog sneezes repeatedly at the sudden increase of scent.

The healers must have added a fresh mix of soothing herbs to the bed when she went to get Portia to go to sleep. At least the ten-winter-old Horatio and three-spring-old Sebastian took the pending hibernation better than their six-summer-old sister did. There were plenty of stubborn sleepers in the castle as it was.

"Did Matilda give you any trouble about going back to sleep?" Marianne asks.

"Not this time but I did have to hush her when I told her about the infant being born soon. She nearly buzzed around the nursery in excitement before Horatio pounced on her to growl at her for waking him up," he chuckles. "Don't worry they both went back to sleep and luckily, no one else woke up. I did notice that Cathan finally went into his new bed. Did you and Mom convince him or did he decide to do it on his own?"

"A bit of both," she admits. "Hopefully, the infant does come tonight or tomorrow so I'll finally be able to return to our bedchambers instead of being stuck down here. I hate being so far from everyone."

"It's only been four days since you had to start staying in the healer's ward," Bog reminds, getting comfortable in the bedside chair.

"Four days feels like forever," Marianne groans before smirking. "And don't try to act like it doesn't bother you because I know better than that."

"I would never deny how heartbreaking it is to sleep in our bed alone. Maybe it's because of your magic or maybe it's because of the specialness of the day but you're not the only one who gets nostalgic when you get close to birthing. I keep remembering how close I came to losing you," he admits with a sad smile. "So many times in just that first year alone. For spirit's sake, I nearly lost you the very night I met you! You could have gotten so sick or worse, just one false move during our fight could have ended it. Then there was the whole problem the next morning. Anything could have gone wrong!"

"But it didn't," she soothes. "We made it through that year, even with all the chaos that happened, and we made it through every year after that."

"But we came so close so many times," Bog murmurs, his blue eyes shimmering slightly as she lays her hand on the side of his face. "I just keep remembering everything that has happened and it scares me that just one thing different and so much would have changed."

Marianne sighs at that. She'd be lying if she said that she only focused on the good things that happened and not dwelt on the 'what ifs'. In truth, the 'what ifs' were a large part of the reason she was still awake. Trying to sleep while he was not here only made her more aware of how many times she came close to losing him, especially during the Placid Swamp War.

It was such a terrifying time for everyone. Worse, she couldn't really remember those days with how weak she became from the sickness. One day blurred into the next and she was barely conscious of anything, not even their infants' early birth and Mildred's subsequent death. She could remember Bog's desperate begging at her bedside but she hadn't understood his words no matter how many times she heard his voice. That Lughnasa had already passed when she awoke with a clear mind for the first time in months and discovered the changes that befell her beloved.

"I know," she replies, moving her hand to trace the large scar on the exposed skin of his throat. "I will forever be grateful to Rowan for saving you from that ambush. He could ask for the kingdom and I'd gladly give it to him."

"He can barely ask for the female he desires, so I doubt he's ready for the kingdom," Bog quips with a smirk, grinning wider at his mate's laughter. "Speaking of Rowan, I thought I gave him orders to watch over you."

"And I gave him orders to go join Blaire for the rest of the Wild Hunt, after giving him a lecture. If he doesn't manage to talk himself out of it, he's going to join the couriers on their next trip to the Breezy Meadow and hopefully ask Blaire to join him," Marianne explains.

"If he does manage to talk himself out of it, it might be a good idea to order him to do so before Blaire throws him in the dungeon," he comments. "I know goblins are notorious for capturing pretty little fairies but with how frustrated Blaire is getting, I think she just might accidentally throw away the key."

"You ordering him to stay here didn't help. Rowan should have been with Blaire tonight in the first place," she points out.

"That was not my fault," Bog defends with his hands raised. "He had already told her that he was staying here before I even mentioned anything to any of the ones remaining at the castle. I figured that if I ordered him to stay near you then you'd probably manage to send him to join Blaire despite his resolve since he adores you so much."

Marianne laughs at the teasing tone. She still can't believe that she had mistaken Rowan's youthful infatuation with her as him being mistrustful of her. He also wasn't the only one whose feelings she had misjudged that year.

"I brought some raspberry tea, Your Majesty," Yemma murmurs as she walks in after being bidden to enter. "It's just the thing to help restless females to relax and help unborn infants make up their mind."

Accepting the cup from the master healer, Marianne sips the warm brew as the female goblin pushes slightly on her stomach to gauge the infant's health. It seemed strange to remember the time when Yemma was judged for showing disrespect to her and Bog since nothing could be further from the truth now. It seemed even stranger that incident was what guided the gobliness to pursue being a healer, training under her clan's healer before becoming Junco's apprentice and then her successor.

A sharp gasp from Marianne causes Bog to rise hastily but Yemma pushes him back into his seat without turning her attention off her charge and continues her examination. The next few proddings bring slight discomfort but Marianne tries her best to keep from crying out.

"It feels like the infant has dropped some more. Not much time now," Yemma confirms with a nod before pointing sternly at Bog. "You are not to keep Her Majesty awake, do I make myself clear? She needs her rest."

"She says it like I'm the one responsible for you still being awake," Bog grumbles as Yemma leaves.

Marianne laughs at his pouting posture, only to be silenced by Bog's greedy lips. She eagerly returns his affections as he runs his one hand over her form while the other nestles itself into her long shaded brown hair. She sighs in adoration as he moves his lips to kiss and nip at her neck before returning to her mouth...

Then it's her turn to pout when he returns to his seat after one more kiss.

Who cares what the master healer ordered! There should be a law against teasing a female and not finishing!

Come to think of it, why hasn't she made one yet?

Bog's laughter is contagious as she grumbles her complaints and she can't help chuckling before dutifully obeying everyone's orders. The clawed hand clasping her smaller one brings a smile to her face as her eyes drift close.

Chapter Text

Daylight begins to break the horizon and the Wild Hunt's horn sounds repeatedly through the air, alerting the kingdom's inhabitants of the end of another Wild Hunt. A night that once brought terror to all the inhabitants of the Light Field was now a night of revelry and games.

The war game of the Lammas festival had proven such fun that the Dark Forest eagerly incorporated much of it into the revised Wild Hunt. At first, it was just fake battles over food and drink as the horde of goblins descended upon certain elf, brownie, and fairy villages. If the horde won the battle, they got the prize, eating and drinking to their heart's content. But if they lost, then they had to relinquish the prizes stored on their mounts to the winners. Very few stayed sober the whole night.

But as the years passed and the crown of the Light Field passed to its next rulers, so changed the various festivals that both kingdoms once celebrated separately. No longer were there two kingdoms under two different ruling royals but now two kingdoms ruled by the same. Many of the festivals changed to accommodate both kingdoms and none more so than the once dreaded Mid-Autumn Wild Hunt.

Instead of the fake battles only taking place in the Light Field, now the Dark Forest was under mock-attack as well. Two hordes would depart from the new castle at moonrise with one headed toward the old Light Field palace and the other toward the old Dark Forest castle. The villages between were tasked with repelling or depleting the ranks of the horde in various ways. Those that lost and didn't escape capture not only had to give up the food and drink they guarded but they also had to join the rest of the horde to the true battle against the factions guarding the old royal residences.

Bog winces slightly at the morning sun as he walks out into the courtyard to greet his returning subjects. Blinking to let his eyes adjust, he snorts in amusement as he notices several obviously-drunk figures loaded into the back of squirrel carts approaching the castle. Losing during the Wild Hunt wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"And to think, that could have been you," Plum giggles.

"One! I had one glass of fairy wine," Bog growls, glaring at the glaistig beside him. "And that was to celebrate Ishild's first Wild Hunt victory."

"If you say so!" Plum sing-songs.

Sighing in exasperation, Bog runs a hand down his face. There were times that he questioned if he'll be able to stay sane with Plum being around. She did have her good qualities. Like when she forced King Dirk under a geas that no ruler of the Great Mountain or their subject will ever cause any harm, mischief, or otherwise chaos for anyone under her protection under penalty of death and since she swore that she would guard her daughters' descendants, that meant their kingdom for generations to come. He was also grateful when she used her power to restore the tree that was once the Dark Forest castle, which kept them from the inconvenience of having to relocate the winter burrows as well.

But.

There could be no creature more frustrating than her...not even his mother!

"Are you driving Dad crazy again, Plum?" Puck laughs as he runs toward the pair on all fours.

"It's not that hard," Plum quips. "So, who won this year's match?"

"Who else!" Puck states with pride, his jeweled golden necklace gleaming in the morning sun as he poses with all regal bearing.

"I must congratulate Dawn and Sunny for their victory!" Plum teases, grinning sharply at Puck's glare.

"Your jokes are getting old," Puck mutters dryly. "How's Mom?"

"She just went into full labor before sunrise, so your newest sibling should be here any moment now," Bog answers, holding out his arm to allow his eldest son to jump up.

Bog returns the affection as Puck rubs his face against his neck before the grown imp jumps back down to join the other imps gathering in the courtyard. The assortment of black and white creatures causes his mind to wander to when the Great Mountain imps moved into the two kingdoms. It was an exciting time despite the stress of making sure the new arrivals had what they needed and the imps easily found their place among them.

Unfortunately, not everything went smoothly.

Puck did not accept the other imps right away. He had ignored the other young, only playing with Lysandra because of the female's persistence, and every adult got hissed at or worse. Poor Yorick had gotten bitten when the elder male started to teach Puck how to use his magic. It hadn't stopped the old imp from instructing his pupil though, commenting that he's gotten into enough scuffles in his day that he can handle the youngster's milk teeth. Yorick had even surmised that the young male had seen them as a threat to his new family and would calm once he realized they weren't. To which the elder was proven correct shortly after that first hibernation was over.

In fact, Puck's protective aggression had earned him respect from the other imps and when he became an adult, he was given a place among the individual family leaders, making him and Lysandra head of their own family instead of joining hers when they mated shortly after their coming-of-age. What was once a bleak future for the orphaned imp turned into a prosperous one just from the events within that fateful year.

Whether it was Marianne's magic that caused them both to reminisce or not, Bog couldn't deny how truly grateful he felt that things happened the way they did. It was terrifying to know that one thing different could have caused them to have a different future than they have.

"Did I ever mention that I'm glad you decided not to tell us about the imps in the Great Mountain?" Bog asks suddenly.

"No, no you didn't. What brought that up? It's been ages," Plum comments.

"Did you ever notice how nostalgic Marianne and I get when she's ready to give birth?" he questions instead.

"Come to think of it, the both of you do get very sappy," she remarks, snapping her fingers. "So why, pray tell, are you glad about me keeping that particular information from you? Marianne was absolutely livid for weeks."

"For good reason! Especially since you yourself admitted that you didn't think that we'd take Puck serious about wanting to be adopted by us if we had known. Knowing that you already told Puck about the other imp clans and that he rejected the idea would have settled our worries about Puck only wanting us because there was no one else," Bog reminds. "Anyway, I was thinking about if you had told us, then you would have told those in the Great Mountain instead of waiting as well and then the Lughnasa attack wouldn't have happened, which may have caused Marianne's hidden magic to never manifest and that might have resulted in you keeping your true identity a secret longer and if it hadn't been revealed before the Dyke King sent that ill messenger then you wouldn't have been able to perform that spell that allowed you to share Marianne's sickness when she nearly died after giving birth to Matilda and Mildred."

"That's a rather morbid length of thought," Plum mutters.

"But true. Just that one thing different could have killed Marianne," he mentions, clearing his throat to relieve the tightness. "So, I'm glad things happened the way that they did. Spirits, even the great famine had to have happened or none of this would have come to pass! I wouldn't have even been born without that first Wild Hunt being created and Marianne's bloodline may have never became royal."

"That is true, isn't it. How strange things turn out," she muses softly, turning her attention to watch the newcomers entering the courtyard. "When I was still...human, there was a belief that something good would come out of every bad thing that happened. I hated it because nothing good ever came out of the bad I experienced, so that meant that I deserved everything that happened to me from my family's death to Garth's betrayal. Even my death and rebirth as a glaistig didn't offer me any reprieve from the pain that hounded me. But now...Just look at my lovelies! Who would have thought that I'd be a mother, let alone a grandmother and great-grandmother?!"

Plum may be frustrating and a test on any creature's sanity but there were times when Bog understood why his father-in-law fell in love with her. She truly did have a good heart. No matter how much bitterness and pain it was buried under, it still showed through if one took the time to notice. He's just grateful that neither fairy sister acted as crazy as their mother.

"How's Marianne doing?" Dawn questions after hugging Plum. "The triplets didn't wear her down, did they?"

"Marianne is fine. As for the triplets, you'll have to ask your father since he was the one who put them to bed last night," Bog answers. "They might still be asleep."

"Wishful thinking," Sunny chuckles, pointing upwards. "Meriwether and Mungo are hanging out a window."

"What?!" Dawn yells, her eyes following her husband's finger. "Meriwether, Mungo, what do you two think you're doing?! Oh no, where is Melody?! You better not be playing any tricks or so help me, you're going to be in a whole lot of trouble!"

Bog joins his brother-in-law's laughter as they watch Dawn fly up to chase her giggling brood back into the castle. The seven-winter-old princes were a handful for their mother but it was their minutes-older wingless sister that caused Dawn to declare that she was not having any more young. Something the thirteen-spring-old Gwen was happy about after one of their pranks splattered her instead.

Brushing away the mirthful tears, Bog turns his attention back to the courtyard and nods as he confirms everyone's arrival. He smirks as he notices a smug-looking Blaire approaching with a rumpled-looking besotted Rowan trailing behind her. Looks like it was a very successful hunt indeed.

His smirk turns into a wide smile as Marianne's voice whispers through his mind and he flickers his wings in excitement at the telepathic news. No amount of tiredness can stop the joyous cheering as he relays the message of the royal infant's birth.

Chapter Text

Bog smiles fondly down at the bundle tucked in the crook of his arm. No matter how many times he's been through this, it still feels miraculous that he is a father. The infant yawns before blinking sleepily. It's hard to tell for sure but he's almost positive that the newborn had amber eyes to go with the dark amber black-tipped moth wings flicking slightly against the blanket he's wrapped in. A few more hours would tell if he inherited any of his sire's attributes but the small tuft of brown hair told that he took mostly after his mother.

"Welcome to the kingdom, Prince Wyot," Bog murmurs. "You're going to be a handful, aren't you?"

"That could be said of all our young. Wild and chaotic offspring to fit their wild and chaotic mother, remember?" Marianne reminds.

"But they're not anarchists like you were worried they would be," he counters with a smirk.

"Blaire and Beowulf come very close," she snickers.

Being mindful of his son, Bog laughs softly in agreement with his mate. If it wasn't the crown princess getting into some kind of trouble then her twin brother probably was and worse were the times when they both got into something. Spirits, he swears that he lost ten years of his life when those two decided to hunt an owl that was trying to settle in the old Placid Swamp kingdom after they turned fifteen summers. Good thing Hadrian and Rowan were ever vigilant to notice the pair sneaking out or that would have turned out much worse than sulking royals that were confined in the healer's ward for several days.

Then there was that whole mess that nearly started a war between them and the Breezy Meadow the summer before last.

"After all the chaos of our first year of mateship, we should have known our firstborn blood-offspring would have been chaos formed into flesh and blood," Bog comments before snorting. "Though, that pretty much describes our other young as well. Here's hoping that you won't try to worry your poor father as much as your sisters and brothers do, Wyot."

"If you didn't worry so much, Dad, that wouldn't be a problem," Beowulf chuckles as he opens the door unannounced.

"Behave, Beo," Vidia chides, smacking the tall male's metal-armored chest. "Sorry for disturbing you, Your Majesties. No one wanted to get rest until they knew when you would be presenting the new prince."

Bog blushes at Marianne's amused look at his blunder. He had waited long enough to announce Wyot's birth before rapidly returning to the healer's ward, completely forgetting about dismissing his waiting subjects.

"Tell them we'll present him before the start of the Samhain festival, so they can all rest up for tonight," Marianne informs, smiling as the female sprite nods before taking flight down the corridor. "By the way, Beowulf, your father said Puck's horde defeated the faction at the old palace but who won at the old castle?"

"Blaire," Beowulf mutters, ruffling his spiked sandy blonde hair with a clawed hand. "We almost had taken the castle but then Rowan showed up and noticed the sneak attack! You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Mom?"

"Fenric needed some exercise and your sister needed her stubborn male," Marianne explains unrepentantly. "Did Blaire mention about accompanying Rowan to the Breezy Meadow tomorrow?"

"She said something while we were coming back here," Beowulf starts before checking the corridors to make sure Vidia is not near. "Do you think that's a good idea, though? King Vincent isn't going to be happy at the news they're bringing. He might cause trouble."

"He also knows that if he starts any trouble then we'll give him trouble right back, friend or not," Bog states firmly. "You may be impetuous but you are our son and of far more value to us than a grouchy old sprite who is having a temper tantrum. Your mother and I already have things set up to protect Vidia, as well as Rowena and her family should anything go wrong. Go get some sleep and we'll talk later."

Beowulf's grateful smile tears at Bog's heart, especially as he flickers his purple iridescent dragonfly wings to relieve the hidden tension. It's obvious that the matter was bothering his son and it made him all the more angrier at Vincent for being stupid about the whole thing. Yes, the young lovers could have gone about it a little different, because after all, kidnapping a female, even a willing one, from another kingdom is not the best way to keep allies. On the other hand, there would have been no need for that desperate act if Vidia's father had just seen sense instead of protesting against the union for nothing other than it being an interracial match.

It was ridiculous that even after the wayward lovers were found, luckily by Marianne and him, the fool disowned Vidia when she refused to renounce her love for the halfling-blood prince. Even more ridiculous is that Vincent threatened her with death if he ever saw her again. How could he be so against interracial relationships in his kingdom that he'd enforce an archaic law against his own eighteen-summer-old daughter? A year later and he still couldn't accept it.

Such stubborn stupidity.

"That grouchy old sprite is younger than you, my grumpy old goblin," Marianne points out once Beowulf closes the door.

"But unlike him, I'm still as vigorous as I was that first Samhain we spent together twenty-three autumns ago," Bog declares, smirking at his mate as he hands Wyot back to her.

"Behave," she chides with a blush. "I just gave birth, for spirit's sake, so this is no time to flirt, you cheeky thing. Besides, I must look a horrid mess."

"Oh, my queen, you never looked more beautiful!" he purrs.

"Behave! I don't care what Plum says, Wyot is our last," Marianne states.

"That's what I said after Matilda and what you said after Cathan. We're not very good at being careful," Bog chuckles.

"True," she concedes with a smirk, pulling him down for a kiss. "But we do have our first blood-grandchild on the way and poor Wyot will only be a few seasons older than his brother's child."

"He'll be fine. Besides, look at Horatio and Matilda, they get along splendidly despite being the same age," he points out before correcting himself. "Well, despite Matilda being half-a-season younger."

"Yes, you can't forget that or Horatio will never forgive you. He prides himself on being older than his aunt," Marianne chuckles.

The sight of his beloved holding their sleeping newborn fills Bog's whole being with warmth and he leans back with a deep contented sigh. Looking back on everything, it really is incredible how everything happened. One single decision on both their parts led to this moment...well, to be accurate, it was more like a series of decisions made in a very short amount of time.

But everything turned out right, even the chaotic decisions made by their own young.

"About the couriers to the Breezy Meadow," Bog starts after a moment. "Beowulf's concerns do have merit. It's not like we have an obligation to inform that grouch at all about Vidia's pregnancy, anyway, since he did disown and exile her."

"I know but...he is an old friend and I'd hate to ruin that just because he's being as stupid as Queen Valatina and Queen Vesper was about Puck's birth-clan. Now don't think I've forgiven him for demanding that we either kill or disown and exile our son as well but I've been hoping that one day he'll change his thinking," she admits.

"He might. After all, he didn't have a problem with Rowena and Marlin's union despite the outcry from several nobles of his kingdom against a Light Field fairy being with a Breezy Meadow fairy, so he might come around one day and accept the fact that his daughter's mate isn't a sprite. However, I'm wondering if it is safe to inform him before spring. I know we have things ready as a precaution but there might not be enough time for Rowena and Marlin to evacuate before winter should he or those of his kingdom get upset at the news," he mentions.

"That's part of why I think it's best not to wait. The couriers will be there to help if they do need to evacuate and with Blaire and Rowan accompanying them, there won't be any chance of 'accidents' happening. Especially with Rowan's over-suspiciousness of the Breezy Meadow," Marianne explains. "You know Vincent will find out one way or another, so it's better to tell him ourselves...along with the added knowledge that if our kingdom does face another war, this time I will be fighting as well and so will Plum."

"Now, my love, let's at least give the Breezy Meadow a slight fighting chance," Bog teases.

"Not likely," she scoffs playfully before turning serious. "Besides, it'll be a good idea to make sure Crown Prince Valian knows old friendships won't stop us from defending our son and our kingdom just in case that little weevil turns out to be too much like his grandmothers once he becomes of age."

Bog sighs sadly at the reminder of Vincent's other young. No matter how irritated he was at the sprite king for his treatment of the young lovers, truly, he pities him more than anything. Secondborn Vidia was the only one of the Breezy Meadow's royal family that didn't hold fast to that kingdom's foolish ideals and it was speculated by the other kingdoms that the Crown Prince's first act of his approaching twenty-first spring would be to overthrow his sire. There was no telling if the new king would keep the trade open or not but one thing everyone is sure of is that Vincent is in danger of another coup.

Still doesn't excuse his treatment of Beowulf and Vidia.

Chapter Text

The Samhain bonfires crackle and spark, mixing with the joyous singing as various creatures dance between the two with gaiety and laughter. Most notable is the crown princess as her blue iridescent dragonfly wings catch the firelight and sends colors over her intended. Her jeweled golden circlet shimmers and shines along with her other golden jewelry as she leads Rowan into a dance, making sure all notice the male's courting boutonniere.

Bog smiles warmly at watching his daughter's happiness. Though he would never pick a favorite out of his children, he always worried the most over Blaire. Probably because she was the first of their bloodline and took the brunt of both kingdoms' expectations. He can still remember clearly the moment he first held her in his arms twenty-one summers ago. So tiny...but loud.

He chuckles softly at remembering his startled reaction at her first scream. She may have inherited most of his carapace, a more steely shade of his blue eyes, and his wings but she definitely inherited her mother's ferocity. Nothing stopped her, not when she was young and definitely not now.

His chuckles turn into laughter as Blaire's annoyed scream echoes out when Beowulf picks up his slightly smaller sister into a hug, making sure to entrap her arms and wings. Whatever is said by the slightly younger male is indistinguishable by the distance but it causes Bog to groan when a wide smile replaces the annoyance on the spiked shaded brown-haired female's face.

No doubt they were up to something.

"I wish those two would behave!" Bog moans.

"Don't worry, it's not bad...this time," Marianne chuckles, finishing her honey and blackberry jam cake.

"I take it you're involved with whatever that is about," he guesses, gesturing to the twins with his right arm.

"Since our daughter is thoroughly occupied with her intended at the moment and seems to have forgotten we exist, I told Beowulf what we discussed earlier about Blaire and Rowan while you were starting the festival and he said that he'd tell her when he's able to catch her," she explains.

Ah, that does explain it.

Bog nods in understanding before turning his attention back to the unfolding scene. Now knowing the situation, he isn't surprised when Rowan gestures to where they're seated with a shocked look on his face as he joins the siblings' conversation. It shouldn't be that hard to believe that they'd give their permission to forgo the traditional courting period. They waited long enough as far as he and Marianne were concerned.

Playful screams draw him away from watching Blaire tackle her intended as her brother laughs with his mate and Bog chuckles as he notices the younger ones' present game. They were making up for being too young to join the hunt by attacking their larger playmate...not that Kaiden minded. The cat-pooka easily prances out of the way of any charge and playfully swats at the older, more agile, children. Horatio leads the next charge as Ishild's group and Gwen's group distracts the pooka and soon the larger creature erupts into laughter as Horatio's group manages to gain footage on the black fur and starts tickling. Being mindful of his small playmates beginning to swarm him, Kaiden shifts his form to a small golden-eyed black-furred dog and lays on his back with his tongue lolling out to signify his defeat.

Such dramatics. But at least he wasn't causing any mischief like he usually does whenever he visits, no matter how well-intentioned it may be.

Fast movement catches his attention away from the dog-pooka being tickled and he joins Marianne's laughter as they watch Puck and Lysandra chase after Portia through the dancing figures. No doubt the younger white-furred imp is resisting her bedtime again and her cackling reminds him of the first time he chased Puck through the forest. Like father, like daughter. Especially as she squeals at being caught and pouts before playing contentedly with her father's jeweled golden necklace once he places her on his back to carry her.

It wasn't just the young imp's bedtime, though, and Bog moves his arm to adjust his hold on his drowsy son. Cathan curls tighter against his father's chest but doesn't take his drooping eyes off the festivities farther away.

"Time for bed, Cathan," Bog murmurs as Cathan yawns.

"Not done," Cathan mumbles before a yawn breaks through again.

"What's not done?" Bog asks patiently.

"You and Mommy haven't fought yet," Cathan answers.

Bog makes a hum of understanding. Yes, it had become something of a tradition for him and Marianne to spar, maybe not at every festival but definitely during the Samhain festival.

"I'm afraid not this time, Cathan," Marianne informs softly.

"But you had Wyot, so...," Cathan starts before yawning again.

"Yes, I did have Wyot but I still can't spar for a little while," Marianne explains.

"Oh. Healer's orders?" Cathan questions, turning his attention to watch his mother nod. "Okay. Sleep here, Daddy."

Any thought of having to argue with his son turns into amusement as Cathan's eyes close and he fully rests against Bog, asleep within moments as his father positions him better on his lap. The excitement of the day had fully worn him out and he's not the only one as Matilda gives her own yawn before deserting the other playing children to head in their direction. Even her boundless energy has a limit.

Bog rises from his seat after adjusting the sleeping Cathan and intercepts Matilda before she reaches them. Being mindful of her father's wings, the tired princess easily latches onto his back and lays her head against his neck as he reaches behind to support her with his free arm.

"We won. Did you see, Daddy?" Matilda asks.

"I saw. You did very good, Matilda!" Bog praises as he walks back toward the castle entrance.

"Not as good a Horatio and Myka," Matilda mutters, scowling at remembering how she nearly got caught.

"Horatio and Myka are imps and you can't expect yourself to be able to do what they do. It's a lot easier for them to move in situations like that," Bog reminds. "Besides, there's plenty that you can do that they can't."

"Yeah," Matilda comments happily before smirking. "Like seeing over a rock without having to climb on it."

"Matilda," Marianne chides softly as she joins Bog's side, trying her best to keep from showing her amusement.

"Not my fault they're short," Matilda defends. "I'm gonna be as tall as Daddy!"

"Maybe not that tall," Bog chuckles, nodding his thanks as two guards open the castle doors for them.

It's not long before the day's events finally take their full toll and Matilda joins her younger brothers in sleep halfway to the royal nursery. With an ease born from practice, Bog bends to lay Cathan on his bed before sitting on Matilda's bed and gently coaxing her from his back. The pair stay asleep as he prepares them for bed and he kisses both their foreheads before offering to hold Wyot so Marianne can kiss Cathan.

He sighs at Marianne's look of guilt as she gazes at Matilda. He knew how she felt about being forced to keep her distance but it is for the best and would only be a few more days. Ushering her out the nursery, he pauses a moment to take one last glance at their sleeping children before shutting the door and wrapping his free arm around her shoulders as they walk toward their bedchambers.

"Did you hear what Kaiden said after he arrived?" Marianne questions.

"You mean about what he thinks we should name the kingdom now that it is officially one kingdom?" Bog asks, getting a nod. "He does have a good idea."

"We are not naming our kingdom the Wild Lands!" she laughs.

"As Kaiden said, this is where the wild ones dwell and what better name would suit it," he comments.

Wyot's soft whimpers interrupt anything else and Bog relinquishes the waking infant before opening their bedchamber door for Marianne to step through first. He can't stop the contented sigh or the fond smile as he watches his mate tend to their son.

Once their kingdoms were enemies and fought each other in battles. Once female fairies, elves, and brownies were stolen and forced to bear a goblin's young. Once there was Elise, who loved her half-goblin son so much that she hid him away and chose death when several male goblins killed Firth's sire just to claim the female fairy.

But now...

Now there is Marianne, who chose to love a goblin king instead of giving him death. Now there are many goblin-halflings born from loving pairs. Now their kingdoms fight together side-by-side as allies and friends.

Once their kingdoms were separate but now their kingdoms are one.

"Who would have thought that fateful night would result in all this?" Bog questions softly.

"What was that, Bog?" Marianne asks.

"Just thinking out loud," he answers, moving to sit next to her on their moss bed. "It's incredible all that has happened since that night we met. How could we have known that moment would cause all of this to happen?"

"I was actually thinking about that when you came home last night," she admits. "It was one thing when we were crowned King and Queen of the Light Field after the twins turned three but this year feels so much more."

"You're right. To be fair, though, that year was more stressful as we adjusted to ruling two different kingdoms," Bog comments with a wry smile.

"I'm not talking about the stress," Marianne snorts, lightly smacking his chest. "What I meant is how amazing it felt about our kingdoms being more united."

"I was just teasing, I know what you meant," he chuckles. "Although, you do have to admit that our parents' idea of building a castle along the border was much needed for all of us. Even if we did have to go through all those extra council meetings."

"I still would've preferred fighting Am Fear Liath Mor and the hellhounds again," she remarks.

Bog gives his agreement to that. There was nothing more irritating than dealing with stuffy old codgers from both the Dark Forest and the Light Field that had a hard time adjusting to the changes. Sure, they had no problem with how things had become since the kingdoms buried old hatreds but for some reason, the idea of the two kingdoms becoming more one had set them off into a tangent of rules and traditions. Elder Onyx commented that it was probably because they feared losing their high-ranking cushy positions before gleefully suggesting that the newly-pregnant queen remind them why it's best not to anger her.

They had barely managed to keep Marianne from bashing several skulls, no thanks to the old goblin's repeated encouragements.

In the end, it was those fools that helped them discover a very old law in the Dark Forest archives that even the elders hadn't known about. Marianne had come across it during her browsing that first winter, not realizing it was important or even valid since it was never repeated, and she had briefly mentioned it during a rant after one particularly tiring meeting. Once everyone got over their shock of such a law existing, a thorough search of the archives was conducted to reveal a forgotten part of the royal law. A law that stated that once a seventh-generation royal passed the trials and became king, the ruling bloodline could never be challenged for the throne again as long as one offspring from each successive generation passed the trials themselves.

No Dark Forest ruling bloodline had ever made it to a seventh-generation ruler before, not even during the time when there was no kingdom and just different goblin clans tolerating each other's existence. The Zircon King's bloodline was the longest reigning and he was only the fifth king of his bloodline. By the time Firth challenged him, none of his older offspring had been able to pass the trials and there were many opponents waiting for Zircon to grow too old to fight.

But Firth's bloodline was different. The denizens of the Dark Forest grew content with the ruling bloodline as each king ruled justly and fairly over all their subjects and even the purebloods who looked down on halfling-bloods gave the halfling-blood royals due respect. In fact, the fourth king of the bloodline was the last to be challenged outside the trials and that was more because the Marsh King was interested in the same female as his opponent than because of the throne.

Smiling softly, Bog muses silently that it is something else he's grateful happened the way that it did. Had that part of the royal law not been forgotten, he and Marianne wouldn't have been faced with the dilemma caused by their fight that fateful night and they probably wouldn't have become mates for at least several more months. It wasn't a matter of if they would become mates but only a matter of when and there was no telling how much of the events that followed would have changed because of that.

"At least those meetings had something good come out of it. It did settle all our worries about us or our children being challenged for the throne and also revealed how to unite the kingdoms without having to abolish either royal law," Bog reminds.

"True but that didn't make that year any easier. We could have had this castle built before the winter snows if it wasn't for dealing with those fools and then you wouldn't have had to travel constantly between the winter burrows and the winter caverns for another winter. Had Ishild not been born in the evening, you wouldn't have even been home for her birth because of their complaints," Marianne comments sourly.

"But I was home," he soothes, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "And now that Blaire and Beowulf have both passed the trials, every single one of their arguments no longer have any merit."

"No longer? You didn't actually agree with their concerns about Blaire and Beowulf being unable to pass the trials, did you?" she questions, lightly glaring at him.

"What?! No! That...that's...that's not what I meant at all! I mean...," Bog hastily denies.

"I'm teasing!" Marianne giggles. "I know you had full confidence in them."

"In passing the trials, yes, but well...," he trails off with a gesture. "They do tend to rush into things without thinking, after all."

"You too, huh? I guess we were both thinking it and not mentioning it," she admits, smirking at his amused look. "Spirits, I swear most of the kingdom is surprised that those two didn't get themselves killed before they reached the age to go through the trials. I don't care what our parents say, we were not that wild."

About to agree, Bog winces as his mind offers vivid reminders of all the trouble he had gotten into while growing up, as well as a certain impulsive action that kept him from being beheaded by a fierce female fairy. Okay, he'll admit that he may have been a wild thing himself but his parents only dealt with one of him at a time. Blaire and Beowulf may have gotten their impetuousness from them but the chaos they caused was doubled.

"Speaking of the twins, we still need to talk to Kaiden about his involvement with Beowulf's plan last year," Marianne reminds.

"He'll probably disappear again before we manage to corner him without any young one around just like he's been doing for the past several festivals. Maybe we should let it slide this time since he did lead us to where he took Beowulf and Vidia," Bog comments. "It might have taken longer to find them if he didn't come back to tell us what happened."

"I already let it slide by not skinning that daft creature then and there," she points out. "However, we need to make sure Kaiden exercises whatever brain is in that thick skull of his and he doesn't help anyone of our kingdom come up with any more crazy and ill-thought-out plans again. If he could manage to convince Beowulf into kidnapping Vidia instead of just coming to us with his worries, who knows what that pooka could do the next time he tries to 'help'."

"Good point," he mutters. "Do you want me to go see if I can corner him now?"

He chuckles as Marianne gives him a dry look before cuddling more against his chest, her answer clear. Their days will be busy once more soon enough and there was no need to disturb their special night.

The sound of revelry from the festival drifts through the closed balcony windows and mixes with the infant prince's noisy eating as Bog returns Marianne's loving gaze. No matter what awaits them in the future, they will face it as one.

Tea Blend.

Chapter Text

"Did they seriously have to name all their children after battle or fighting?" Dawn asks in exasperation.

"But, Aunt Dawn, I'm not," Beowulf chuckles, grinning at his short aunt's dry look.

"He's right, Mom," nineteen-autumn-old Sunshine agrees, fluttering her wings. "Beowulf doesn't mean battle or fighting and neither does Mildred."

"That's two out of seven," Dawn mutters.

"Don't you mean three out of eight?" Puck corrects cheekily.

"You don't count because they didn't name you," Dawn counters.

"Of course he counts!" Ishild argues, picking up her smaller elder brother. "Just because he was given that name by his blood-parents doesn't mean Mom and Dad didn't name him because they could have given him a different name when they adopted him. Therefore, he counts and it's three out of eight."

"You can't argue against perfect logic, Aunt Dawn," Blaire comments.

"More like stubborn logic, you wild ones," Dawn quips, shaking her head in amusement at their laughter.

Tea Blend. For real this time. ;)