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Of all the things Roland had taken from her, the sword was perhaps her greatest casualty, rivaling the loss of any affection she may have ever had for blond hair or green eyes. It had slipped from her fingers when he'd barreled into her, and she'd been forced to use his to hold him at bay.
It had been a gift from her sister, too. Once she'd given up on boys and boutonnieres, her sister had helped her by having a sword made specially for her. Oh, Dawn hadn't really understood her elder sister's obsession with learning to fight, but she was loving and supportive by nature, and had done what she could to help Marianne.
And now it was gone. Crushed at the bottom of a ravine under the ruins of a castle. Marianne had no choice but to write it off as a loss – even the goblins didn't go down there very often, and getting crushed by loose rubble while digging around far away from where anyone would hear her was not how she wanted to go.
It didn't occur to her that she hadn't been the only one to notice it's absence, however.
“I had this made for you.” A bundle was pressed into her hands, long and wrapped in waxed paper to protect its contents from any moisture. The fairy looked at the gift, then at its giver, and he gave her a weak smile.
The Bog King had shown up to their meeting place by the waterfalls, just outside the archway that connected both kingdoms, carrying it tucked under his arm. He'd seemed nervous, but she'd assumed it was because he was in the Light Kingdom at first. Now he watched her, waiting for her to open the package.
The fairy no longer noticed his gaze, her own fixed on what she held in her hands. Processing what she could feel. Blinking, fingers tightening around the paper – yes, she could tell what the outline of it was. She tore away the string that held it together, yanking the paper down to expose the grip of the new sword.
It was beautiful. The grip itself was wrapped in dark leather for comfort, and the pommel bore a small purple gem to match her wings. As she unwrapped further, pulled it out – oh, the weight and balance were perfect for her, made for her own hands – she saw the crossguard, engraved with thorns and leafy vines. And at the middle-
“Is that...?” She looked up at Bog, eyes sliding over to his staff. Yes, indeed, the stone seemed to be slightly differently shaped than she remembered. The Bog King coughed and cleared his throat, nodding.
“Yes. I thought it would be, ah. Fitting. Well I mean- ye know. Goblins would only have to see the amber to know you were...” He shuffled. “They'd know yer a personal... guest, of mine.”
Marianne stared at him for a moment before looking down to the orange fossil embedded in the crossguard. Knowing what she did now, that the amber was a sign of royalty to Dark Forest denizens, she was truly touched that her lover had parted with something so precious for her.
“And I know ye'd want a new sword. I- ah, I don't know if you had any being made now, but... Well.” He gestured lightly at the weapon, gleaming, in her hands. “I wanted you to... keep this. Use it if you like. Or don't, of course, if you don't want-” The monarchs nervous chatter was cut off as the fairy threw her arms around his neck, heedless of the edges of his armor that dug into her as she did so. His hands hovered above her back for a moment, wings lifted and twitching in surprise, before he enclosed her in his arms.
“It's perfect.” She mumbled, squeezing him once, before pulling back to grin up at him. One arm remained around his shoulders while the other flourished her gift before them, the metal catching the light. “Really. It's-” The fairy looked down at the sword again, and she absolutely radiated joy. She held it up closer to his staff, so the matching stones could glitter side by side.
Different weapons, completely different styles, but a matching set now.