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Chapter Text

Anne had never actually tried to think about what it must’ve felt like when a blade struck through Marcy’s back, about how it felt to be skewered on the end of a sword, let alone a giant sword hot enough to cauterize even some of the most vascular of internal organs. She’d avoided thinking about it, actually, because thinking too hard about Marcy made it hard for her to breathe and even harder for her to think about anything else. 

And yet here she is, a dagger through her heart, staring into nearly a dozen orange eyes that stare right back, a dark smile on the face of her killer as a single tear drips from underneath Darcy’s helmet. The pain is unlike anything Anne could’ve imagined, too hot and too sharp and enough to have caused her to scream if the air hadn’t suddenly evacuated her lungs in the form of a rushed exhale. 

Actually, why isn’t she dead yet? 

Anne is no expert on science or biology, but everyone knows that a dagger through the heart is instantly fatal. The strength is fading from her body, yes, and her breastplate now has a smoldering hole in the center, but she’s still alive, at least alive enough to catch Sasha’s eyes as the blonde looks on in horror. 

Darcy’s smile flips almost immediately, its confusion clear as well. “Oh, now isn’t that strange? Must’ve missed.” 

It hadn’t missed, though. Anne can feel her heart burning with a pain she didn’t know was possible to feel in her chest, hit perfectly on-center by the flaming dagger. She can’t move her mouth to correct them, though- her body is already starting to shut down. Even so, with a little humming noise, Darcy pulls out the dagger to try again. Suddenly, a blinding blue light escapes from Anne’s chest and envelops the room in the color of skies and oceans and tears. 

Had anyone tried to keep their eyes open as the light faded, they would’ve seen the color from the gems on the box drain, pink and green sparking and fizzing into the open air. 

Had anyone tried to keep their eyes open as the light faded, they would’ve seen the colors hit Sasha and Marcy, and seen the three girls flicker out moments before the blue-white light completely dissipates. But instead, as everyone comes to, blinking, all they can see is that Anne, Sasha, and Darcy are missing. 

Eight months in the past, heartbeats after waking up in another world for the very first time, Anne Boonchuy, Sasha Waybright, and Marcy Wu blink open their eyes in confusion and find themselves face-to-face with a soldier, a commander, and a host. 

…the timeline is going to suffer for this. 

Anne’s eyes flutter open a few moments before physical sensation catches up with her. Someone bumps into her and lets out a yelp, and both girls leap back. One very critical fact occurs to the breastplate-bearing Thai girl:

There are two Annes.  

Both stare blankly at each other for a few moments, and the other Anne, muddied St. James uniform and all, speaks first. 

“Whoa, that’s a pretty neat breastplate.” There’s a pause. “Quick question- where the heck am I and what the heck just happened?” 

Anne winces and drags her hands down her face with a low groan of exasperation - she has a feeling she actually knows the answer to the other her’s question- but before she can do anything else a pain flares up in her chest, lodging the scream of agony she’d tried to make before out of her throat. Her legs buckle underneath her at the sudden wave of discomfort, and she falls forward before she can command her arms to break her fall.

“Ack!” The other Anne flinches back, startled, but at the same time instinctively reaches out to catch her as she stumbles. She helps Anne to lean up against a tree, her expression confused and now more than a little worried. “Okay, now this is starting to get freaky.”

Pain shoots up from Anne’s chest, something faint and blue fluttering madly within her in an attempt to keep her alive. Her breastplate has been repaired with no more smoking hole in the center, but it still feels like she’s been stabbed, albeit not exactly through the heart.

“W…” she swallows the lump in her throat and the coppery taste in her mouth. “We’ve gotta get to Wartwood.”

Her past self blinks owlishly at her. “Wart-what-now?”

Right. She has literally no idea what’s going on. Anne tries to push herself to her feet, but stumbles. Muttering an amphibian curse under her breath, she meets the other Anne’s eyes, putting a hand on her chest. “I’ve… done this before. Sort of. You need to get me to a doctor.”

Did I… time travel? How? She doesn’t have time to dive into that question, because with a little noise of complaint but not much else, Anne’s past self - she can only assume this is her past self - helps her to her feet and lets her drape an arm around her shoulder. As they walk, Anne wonders how she was somehow right about Darcy killing her making the box go haywire (the box is most certainly the reason she’s in the past right now, probably), and how she’s even still alive. Probably because of her powers? She decides not to try to imagine how bad the injury is despite her magic healing abilities, because she can feel blood soaking her shirt from underneath the golden armor.

“You’re, uh, quite the soldier, huh,” her past self murmurs as Anne motions for them to turn right at a tree. At least, she thinks it’s right. Her thoughts are getting cloudier and cloudier the longer she walks, a blue-black murky haze in her mind that she’s scared to dive into.

“Yeah,” Anne replies, and her voice tastes like blood.

“So, how exactly do you know anything about where we are?” Anne’s past self motions to stop and lean against a place where the ground slopes up into a hill, but Anne shakes her head. 

“Don’t sit here. That’s a termite mound. Sprig almost fell into it once. And… I’m from the future. Long story, I’ll tell you when we get to Wartwood.” She winces, another flash of pain flaring up and making her eyes burn with tears that she blinks away.

“Ohh, the future, yeah, that totally makes sense.” The way her past self says it makes it impossible to tell if she’s being sarcastic. She pauses, then, looking at the termite mound in confusion. “Must be some pretty big termites, then.”

“You have no idea,” Anne agrees, and she can’t help but chuckle a little at her past self’s mildly horrified expression. “We’re pretty close to town here, I think. Glad I remembered the way.”

“Wait, we could’ve gotten los-” Anne’s past self is cut off by a sudden thunderous crash and an inhuman screech.

“Mantis,” Anne whispers harshly, instincts kicking in as she pushes her past self behind a nearby log. The massive red creature that nearly killed her eight months ago stalks by, narrows its eyes for a moment, and moves on.

“What the f-” Anne puts a hand over the other girl’s mouth, putting a finger to her own lips. The mantis skitters back, pauses, makes a disappointed screech like it thought that would work, and once again disappears into the underbrush. Once its footsteps completely fade, Anne removes her hand and collapses into herself with a sigh.

“Close one.”

“What. Was. That.” Her past self looks like she wants to shake Anne’s shoulders, but stops herself before she does, settling for just throwing her arms out on either side of her to indicate size. “That thing was huge!”

“Welcome to Amphibia,” Anne gives her a faint smile, but she suddenly feels so tired. "Ughh.” The girl places a hand to her head, groaning softly. “We need to hurry up.”

Before her past self can help her back to her feet, a shout rings out through the woods. 

“Ivy, look out!”

“Sprig-? AHH! HELP!”

Both Annes freeze. Anne tries to stand but falls over again.

“Wait, was that a kid?” Her past self peeks over the log, trying to see into the trees.

“That was Sprig,” Anne’s voice fills with blue, humming through her bones and surging through her veins. “HEY, YOU BIG BUG! OVER HERE!!” She pushes herself up on top of the log with as much strength as she can muster, cupping her hands over her mouth. She hears the mantis shriek and come lumbering back, and ignores the shout of alarm from her past self as the red insect looms over her.

As she stares up into its yellow eyes, Anne realizes that maybe she didn’t exactly think this plan through.

“AMBUSH!” A blur of pink shoots out of the bushes, hitting the mantis square in the back. It screeches and whirls around, knocking Sprig off. He hits the ground with a heavy thump and Ivy bounces over to him.

“Sprig!”

“Oh my god they’re talking frogs.” Even so, Anne’s past self hesitates for only a moment before jumping into action, scooping a stick up from the ground and blocking the mantis' attack before it can slice the two frogs in half. “Get out of here, you two!” Ivy hesitates for only a moment before pulling Sprig to his feet and running away. 

The mantis pulls back and shrieks, preparing to land the final blow. Instead, the two frogs come back, tying it up with a long piece of vine and pulling it tight. The mantis falls over, knocked out cold.

“WOOO!” Ivy cheers, jumping up and down. “We totally wrecked that thing!!”

“Yeah!” Sprig agrees, beaming up at Anne’s past self. “Howdy there, strange creature! Since you tried to save us, plus you can talk, I’m gonna assume you don't want to eat us.” He glances at Ivy. “And if you do, just know we’re very fast-moving and don’t have enough meat on our bones, so it wouldn’t be worth it anyways. So, got a name?”

Anne’s past self blinks at them in bewilderment. After a moment, she introduces herself. “I’m, uh, Anne. Anne Boonchuy. That’s also me.” She motions to her future self, who blinks away the dots spinning in her vision enough to wave weakly. “It’s a long story. She needs a doctor.”

“Hmm,” Sprig hums thoughtfully for a moment, and Ivy elbows him in the ribs with an affectionate insult. They say something that Anne can’t quite make out, and just as the three make their way back over to her, the girl’s vision fades from blue to black. 

When she wakes up again, her breastplate’s been removed and there are bandages wrapped around her stomach and chest. Her body feels like it’s been dragged down a staircase and there’s a soft but sickening crunch in her ribs when she tries to move. Her nose registers a terrible smell and she gags, coughing as she tries to sit up. A hand pushes her back down again, and she hears a voice say;

“There. Stink fruit always does the trick. She’s gonna need to rest for a couple days and I have no idea what her internal organs are supposed to look like, but I think she’ll be alright.” 

“Thank ya kindly, doc,” she makes out another voice, familiar enough that it brings a smile to her face. 

“If you need me, just give the word, Hopediah.”

Anne blinks and sees four faces peering at her from the bedside. Herself, Sprig, Polly, and Hop Pop are all staring at her intently. She sees a frog with some medical appliances turning to leave in the corner of her vision.

“Uhhh, heyyy, guys,” Anne tries to move her arms and when nothing happens, she sighs heavily. 

“Alright, spit it out, lady!” Polly declares, bouncing over to the side of Anne’s head. Her voice is a welcome familiarity, even if it’s a bit too loud for her oncoming headache’s liking. “If you’re from the future, am I a hardened warrior?!” 

“That’s the first question you ask?” Sprig yelps. “I’d ask if I ever find true love! Or go to Newtopia, or even meet the king!” 

“Or if Hop Pop becomes president,” Polly jokes, and the two burst out laughing. 

“Now, now, kids, give the soldier some space,” Hop Pop says. “I’m sure that she doesn’t know the answers to all of yer questions.” Just as he tells them this, he leans in to whisper with breath that smells like cucumbers: “Do I ever find out how ta safely and efficiently grow rutabagas and become world-renowned for my accomplishments?” 

Anne blinks for a few moments as Sprig and Polly drag Hop Pop back and start arguing. They snap their mouths shut the moment Anne speaks. “Would you guys believe me if I said that, like, all of those things actually happen in the future? Except for the rutabaga thing. Also Hop Pop isn’t the president, but he almost becomes the mayor.” 

Sprig and Polly’s jaws drop, but they thankfully don’t say anything else. 

Finally her past self butts in, and Anne knows what she’s going to ask before she asks it. 

“Wait, so… do you know if I ever get back to Marcy and Sasha? Are they here? Can I find them?” The unspoken are they alive hangs in the air like sticky trails of cobwebs. Anne pauses, considering her choice of words. 

“They’re alive, but…” Swords and tears and blood and fire. “They’re alive,” she confirms. “And you’ll find them.” 

“Okay, now everyone let the soldier get some rest,” Hop Pop motions for the kids to step back, and they oblige, Sprig and Polly going back upstairs while Anne rolls out her sleeping bag next to her future self’s cot. 

The Soldier, Anne thinks to herself. That’s what he called me. My past self also called me that. She pauses. Wearing golden armor, adorned with scars, a sword strapped across her back, yeah, she can see why they called her a soldier. The Soldier, actually, like she was the perfect example. 

She’s more than a soldier, she knows that now, and she’s hardly the first thing that should come to mind when you think of one. But maybe for ease, just so that everyone can tell her and the other Anne apart, she’ll let them call her that. 

The Soldier- a warrior, a protector, a force for good. Yeah. Yeah, she can work with that. 

The Soldier lets herself drift back into unconsciousness, a little ember of blue burning in her chest.

Chapter Text

When Sasha comes to, it feels like someone’s driven a hammer through her skull and ripped out her heart. There’s a pounding in her temples, a repeated desperate pleading that somehow Anne wouldn’t die swallowing up any chance for rational thought. 

She wordlessly lets out a little sob as she pushes herself to her feet, but it dies in her throat the moment her eyes catch on the other girl standing only a little while away. Wearing a bright pink skirt, St. James uniform, and sporting that old ridiculous hairstyle and ponytail is none other than… herself. 

“Huh,” Sasha murmurs under her breath, a little noise with a crashing wave of emotion pressed up against it, ready to burst the dam the moment she lets her guard down. The two blondes tense, and then her past self makes a little huffing noise, brushes off her skirt, and glances down at her nails boredly. 

“Your roots are showing.” 

It’s so unexpected and off-putting that Sasha actually responds, simply out of impulse; “WHAT? HOW? I just dyed them and…” and then she processes, properly, what’s going on. “…wait a second.” 

For all intents and purposes, it’s safe to assume she’s just been sent back in time.

Before her past self can open her mouth again, she hears a shout echo across the more or less barren, thorny wasteland they’ve found themselves in: “Marsh! Throw the net now and capture the both of them!” 

Instinct kicks in and Sasha whips out her sword, cleanly slicing the net in half and letting it harmlessly glide past her. Her past self lets out a yelp of alarm, her reaction time too slow. Sasha’s already fending off one of the toads, a soldier she recognizes from her time at the tower and one of the few guards who actually took her job seriously. Now that she thinks about it, she wonders why Grime sent one of his best soldiers on patrol, since usually that was used as a form of punishment and not the time, overly war statistics-filled brain.

“What’s going on?” Sasha’s past self breaks the “I don’t care” facade, her eyes round in confusion and more than a little disgust. “Eugh, are you talking frogs?” 

“Toads, actually,” one of the soldiers corrects her, and Sasha whirls around to kick him on his back. Another toad jumps her, pinning her to the ground. 

“So you creatures can speak, huh?” The toad on top of her presses his knee into her back painfully, and she can’t twist at the right angle to spit in his face as he hisses into her ear. “Captain Grime will be pleased to meet you.” 

“Where did it learn to fight like that?” one of the soldiers asks in awe. “Those were toad fighting techniques.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find out everything we need once we get back.” The soldier straightens his back and ties up Sasha and her past self, taking her twin swords in the process and clipping them to his own belt with a smug grin Sasha would love to claw off his face. “Bring these two to the tower!” 

Flickers of some of the things Sasha had forgotten from her early days in Amphibia return to her now, like the pain room they had at the tower, and the girl thrashes against her bindings. “Let us go! Bog, Marsh, c’mon! We’re on your side!” I wasn’t in the beginning, her thoughts betray. But we’re allied with Beatrix and the toads now. Or were allied with them? Or is that in the future? Arghhh, time travel is SO CONFUSING.

“How does this thing know our names?” Marsh’s expression flickers to worry for barely a second, but Bog brushes it off. 

“Lucky guess.” 

Sasha snarls, but stops fighting as a worrying thought occurs to her, something she’d heard Marcy say multiple times about one of her favorite movies. “Time travel is really tricky,” she’d said. “If you do something wrong in the past, you could mess up the future and throw the whole thing out of whack. That’s a paradox. For example, if a guy invented a time machine and went back in time and stopped himself from building a time machine, then he wouldn’t go back in time and stop himself from building a time machine, which would mean that he would build a time machine, and…”  at that point Sasha had stopped paying attention, but she’d gotten the gist of what Marcy meant, and it wasn’t good. 

“The point is,” she’d summed up after the fact, “if you ever find yourself in the past, you have to be really careful. You can’t tell anyone anything about the future unless you have to, and try to minimize the impact of what you do as much as possible.”  

There. Sasha can prove she cares about some of Marcy’s interests (and prove that thing in her friend’s body wrong) and potentially save the world while she’s at it. Win-win. 

The blonde is dislodged from her thoughts as the toads roughly throw her and her past self into a jail cell. 

“Wait here,” one of them snarls, like there’s anywhere else for them to go. “Captain Grime will see you in a bit.” 

And just like that, the door slams shut and the toads march away. As Sasha stares at the empty space for a few moments, she feels the slight weight of a hand on her shoulder and turns around. Her past self inhales slowly before speaking. 

“Alright,” she begins, in a voice layered over with a little too much artificial sweetener (or possibly a sticky-sweet poison sap), “you obviously know what’s going on right now. So, you’re gonna tell me what the fuck it is.” 

Sasha barks out a startled laugh. “That’s a pretty big assumption. Just because I’m from the future doesn’t mean I know how I got here.” 

“Still, you just admitted you are from the future.” Sasha’s past self gives her a little grin, sharp as a tack. Sasha mutters a curse under her breath as the younger version of her continues; “Looks like it softened you up a bit.” 

“Listen, I don’t know anything about how I got here,” Sasha leans back against the wall, stealing a glance at the pile of frog bones next to her. Indiana Bones. It’s been a while. “One minute Anne and Marcy and I were… doing something,” she omits the possession and the rebellion and the serious spoilers involving the future, “and the next I woke up eight months in the past.” The emotions she’d tried to put a cap on start bubbling up. Eight months. So much happened in eight months. “A-Anne is hurt, I have to find her.” A dagger through her heart and tears in her eyes, a blinding blue light that sent them all back in time-

“Anne’s hurt?” Sasha’s past self briefly drops her faintly smug expression, worry leaking into her voice, but she quickly puts the wall back up again. “Is she here?” 

Sasha bites her tongue, a coppery taste filling her mouth. “She… is. Marcy is, too.” If I got sent back in time, Anne and Marcy must’ve ended up in the past, too. Right? 

Before Sasha’s past self can respond to that, none other than Captain Grime stomps in, a dark scowl on his face. Sasha’s used to seeing him in a grumpy mood, and resists the knee-jerk reaction to tease his frowny expression. 

“Hello, creatures,” he greets, smiling a toothy, malicious grin. “Welcome to Toad Tower. You’ll be staying here for a while. Now,” the captain is suddenly against the bars, and both Sashas flinch back, “which one of you is going to tell me where you came from? Are there more of you?” 

Sasha opens her mouth to say something, but the younger version of her speaks up first. “Whoa, calm down, Grimesey. If I knew, I’d tell you.” She shoots Sasha a significant look, and the girl blinks. Oh, I remember this.  

Grime glares at her, then turns his attention to Sasha, narrowing his eyes. “What do you have to say about that?” 

Old habits kick back in and Sasha shrugs nonchalantly. “Hmm, not sure. What I do know is that you should probably let us go. Y’know, before the king finds out.” 

“What do you know about the king, creature?” the toad captain snarls, hands curling into fists. 

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. I’m just fairly certain that once he finds out you’ve been keeping us hostages, he won’t be too happy about it.” This technically isn’t completely a lie. King Andrias would be very interested in what was happening in Frog Valley, especially if that thing in Marcy’s body had been sent back in time, too. Though she doubts he’d actually care what happened to Sasha and her past self, he likely would pretend to, at least. 

“Captain Grime, we can’t send a message to the king until the warm season,” one of the soldiers says with a nervous salute. “None of the messenger birds can-” 

“Shut up, Percy,” Grime bares his teeth at the other toad. “It’s clear the creature is bluffing.” 

“Yeah, sure thing, buddy,” Sasha’s past self sighs. “Treat us like prisoners until the king hears about it, then find out what happens. Your choice.” 

The toad captain mutters one last string of Amphibian profanities under his breath before turning to leave, and silence once again falls. 

“Not bad, ‘commander,’” Sasha’s past self grins a little. “Y’know, with your knowledge of the future we could probably-” 

“You better shut up,” Sasha crosses her arms with a grimace. “I don’t care about your coups or planning or whatever it was I did back then. I’m going to get out of here, find my Anne and Marcy, get all three of us back to our own time before the timeline gets totally screwed over, and I am not helping you.” 

“Whoa, yikes,” Sasha’s past self rolls her eyes. “Just a suggestion. With how snappy you just were toward me you’d think you hated yourself or something.” 

There’s a pause, sticky-hot silence settling over the jail cell before Sasha’s past self bursts out laughing. “Oh, wow, really! So you’re some kind of morally perfect hero in the future, huh? Or are you just tricking everyone into thinking you’ve changed?” She wipes a little tear of laughter from her eye, snorting in amusement. When Sasha doesn’t respond, she continues, a little less tauntingly. “You’re quite the commander, with the way you even got that Grime guy to listen to you. Hope you don’t mind I’m calling you that in my head.” 

“You aren’t wrong,” Sasha (or the Commander, as her past self is apparently calling her) murmurs. “I’m in charge of…” A failed rebellion? A group of people I once tried to kill? “…a sort of… fighting force, in the future.”

She releases the tension in her fists, only realizing now that her knuckles have gone white. As much as she wants to explode and argue with her past self, furiously insisting that she isn’t that person anymore, that’s just the reaction she’d want. Plus, injuring herself in the past can’t be a good idea if Marcy’s talk of paradoxes holds any merit.

“And I’m certainly not perfect, but… I’m trying, and that’s enough for now.” She swallows the lump in her throat. I did so much of this for Anne and Marcy. If they aren’t… The girl pushes that thought aside before it takes her over. She knows Anne’s alive, and she and Anne will find a way to free Marcy.

“Well, I’m not sleeping in this place,” her past self announces finally, making a face as a bug the size of her foot scurries past. 

“Believe it or not, I’ve been through worse,” the Commander leans back against the wall again. “Take it or leave it.” She hears a grunt and a couple grumbles of “should’ve brought my inflatable mattress” before the rustling goes quiet, and Sasha’s breathing evens out. The Commander lets her own eyelids fall closed, sighing heavily. 

Nothing I can do but wait for an opening to get out of here. Hold tight, Anne. Please be alright.

Chapter Text

Marcy’s brain is a little blurry right now, maybe. 

Okay, maybe a lot blurry right now. Her thoughts cling to the inside of her head like cobwebs, sticky and bright orange like Halloween decorations, but melted a little or left out in the rain. She hasn’t exactly been keeping track of the puzzles she’s been solving, but there’s been quite a few and they’ve been progressively getting harder and, oh, there’s the number right there. 

Puzzle Cube #7. 

Seven? Okay.  

Maybe these things were harder and took longer to solve than she’d given herself credit for. This one is sorta crocodilian-shaped, with a cute little tail and legs and eyes and pointy teeth delicately carved into the wood. She twists the tail and opens the gator’s mouth, and a little firework or confetti or bell or whatever it is that her brain doesn’t quite process goes off and then she’s working on the next one. 

She doesn’t really remember anything besides this puzzle room. She doesn’t even think to remember. She’s perfectly fine right now, favorite music playing, solving fun, challenging puzzles. She doesn’t need to pry into why she’s here when she already knows, just doesn’t know at this exact moment. She could figure it out any time she wanted to, but she’s more transfixed on the puzzles at the moment. 

It’s a few puzzles later when she checks the number again, only to find it doesn’t have one. What? What number had it been again? She goes back for the crocodile one, and oh, right, of course. 

Puzzle #4. Right. How could she have forgotten? 

She goes back to the one she’s currently working on; Puzzle #8. Wow, these things are hard, huh? If the Witty Marcy Wu could barely get through six of them, she wonders what kind of supergenius made them so hard in the first place. 

Doesn’t matter. Back to puzzle solving. She’s on Puzzle #7. Wow, she’s been working on this one for a while. 

Piloting a human body is considerably harder than it looks. They lack a tail for balance (or use as an extra limb, on some occasions), their skin is less breathable than an amphibian’s, and this one, in particular, has clumsiness built into her muscle memory. Marcy Wu was such a ridiculous stain on the Core’s intelligence that even after removing her unnecessary memories and habits and even separating her entirely from the rest of the hivemind, they still can’t manage to keep their cape from setting on fire. It’s become such an issue they’ve just had a fireproof one made instead to keep it from spontaneously combusting midconversation. 

Even so, it’s adapted to this form and properly downloaded itself inside her brain, and with a little bit of customization and reorganization, Darcy was certainly as close to perfect as a primarily organic lifeform could get. It does not ever wonder if it was worth possessing this girl just to get under Andrias’ skin. The naive little king must learn that getting attached to others will only hold him back. And the Core does not second-guess itself. 

That isn’t to say that on extremely rare occasions it may make a small miscalculation such as this one. 

The girl standing before it, eyes wide in a mix of confusion, fear, and fascination, is certainly not what Darcy expected to be dealing with today. And it had anticipated almost every contingency, thousands of potential strategies laid out and prepared for any scenario, no matter how ridiculous. Humans had a tendency to be ridiculous, after all. 

This, of course, is quite ridiculous, and it’s also partially the fault of that human girl Anne Boonchuy and her annoying connection to the box. Even so, it’s only fair for Darcy to be a little surprised by the fact that it has traveled back in time. 

It’s certainly glad it no longer requires the cord to function, or else things would be considerably more annoying, seeing as it was dislodged at some point during the trip eight months into the past. It doesn’t question why it doesn’t need the cord, because it most certainly did a few minutes ago. What matters is that it no longer has one, and despite that fact it’s still in control of its Host. 

“Oh,” it brings its hands to clench in front of itself, peering almost curiously at the girl standing before it. “…This is a… peculiar development.” 

Marcy Wu, freshly tossed into a dimension not her own for the very first time, backs away wordlessly, the gears in her brain visibly turning and trying to make sense of the situation. Darcy almost pities her naivety. 

Their eyes widen in surprise, however, when the girl’s foot misses a step and she begins tumbling down a long staircase, backward somersaulting to the bottom. At this, it lets out a little wince- its memories of this incident and the consequential broken leg that followed are… unpleasant, to say the least. 

After Marcy lands with a barely audible thump at the bottom of the staircase, a shout rings out loud enough for most of Newtopia to hear. 

“OW!” 

Darcy knows where this leads- an elderly couple will find Marcy, take her to get her leg bandaged up at the hostpital, and Lady Olivia will bring her to meet King Andrias. They have no reason to interfere with the course of this timeline more than they already have. It would be more logical to wait somewhere private and look for a way to get back to their invasion before their presence alters the future significantly. 

With a sweep of their cape, Darcy heads to the castle. They have some work to do. 

Marcy works away at another puzzle, a sense of familiarity pricking at the back of her neck. She ignores it and stays focused on the task at hand. Puzzle #9, now. Or maybe Puzzle #3? They aren’t numbered, she can’t really tell. 

Chapter Text

Anne isn’t sure what to make of the Soldier. She hasn’t talked much since she briefly woke up about a week ago, and has been drifting in and out of consciousness since. She hasn’t answered any more questions about the future, either, and Anne’s worried that she seems to be getting worse. 

“It’s remarkable she’s even alive,” the doctor had said, a taller frog with dark green skin and red eyes. “Not that I know much about you ‘humans’ or your biology, but it looks like she was stabbed by a hot poker. Or, rather, a poker that was actively on fire.”

This news doesn’t make Anne all that excited for the future, to be honest. And that fear isn’t at all eased by the fact that she has no idea when, where, or how the Soldier was injured, so she’s even more on the alert for pokers that are actively on fire than usual. 

What she does know about the future, though, she keeps at the forefront of her mind. They’re alive. They’re alive, and you’ll find them. She doesn’t know anything else about the whereabouts of her friends, but if nothing else she knows that they’re safe, at least for the time being. 

At least for the next two months. 

Two months until she can leave Frog Valley and look for her friends. Two whole months cooped up in a backwater town of talking frogs who think she’s a beast with a future version of herself potentially dying in her basement. As if things could get crazier. 

She misses home, she misses Sasha and Marcy, and she misses her parents. She misses the stupid biology teacher who wanted her to dissect a dead frog on her birthday. Heck, she even misses Maggie, even if it’s just the familiarity of the redhead and not necessarily her “charming” personality. 

She finds herself not hating it here as much as she thought she would, at least. Sprig and Polly are eager to join in on whatever games she can come up with based on Sasha’s endless rounds of truth or dare, and the Soldier’s health isn’t exactly degrading anymore. Anne looks through the pictures on her phone, trying to make a timeline of what’s happened so far in her mind. 

There was accidentally breaking Hop Pop’s cane. Oh! The basement flooding. They’d ended up needing to move out completely, and the Soldier had her cot placed awkwardly off to the side in the living room while Anne bunked with Sprig. Oh, that’d been a nightmare, though at the same time she almost missed it. 

Trying to find out who was stealing all the crops and drinking Hop Pop’s awful drink concoction. Trying to make pizza. Charging my phone. She shudders, remembering how badly those on those last two adventures had gone. Anne never wanted to see a tomato or a zapapede again for as long as she lived. At least Hop Pop liked Suspicion Island, though. Ohh, Domino 2… Anne misses Domino so much- both of them, honestly. She wonders how her cat back home is getting along, and also how the kill-a-moth is doing out in the wild. Weirdly enough, the Soldier had been excited about taking Domino 2 in, even though she must’ve known what happened in the future. Anne looks back at her phone, humming thoughtfully. 

Stealing Bessie. The whole “Acne Incident.” Not to mention that time Sprig tried to take over the farm… Wow, so there’s a lot. It seems every week heralds a new misadventure of one kind or another, and through it all, the Soldier barely stirs from her… coma? Anne isn’t sure what to call it, but it certainly doesn’t look comfortable. 

Anne decidedly doesn’t think about her future self’s reluctance to talk about the future, or how she avoids the topic of Sasha and Marcy. It’s hard not to think about her chest wound, but she convinces herself that it’s not- it can’t be what she thinks it is. Marcy and Sasha would never hurt her, least of all like… that. Anne shoves it aside before she gets too lost in thought. 

“I think that you might’ve been right about Sprig and I becoming friends,” Anne admits to the Soldier, looking up from her phone. Her future self has her eyes closed, and in the dim lighting, Anne isn’t sure whether or not she’s smiling a little more than she was a minute ago. The girl continues anyway. “He’s… not really like Marcy and Sasha, is he?” It’s a rhetorical question, and one with a fairly obvious answer at that. Sprig is a bright pink frog Anne met barely a month ago- of course, he’s nothing like the two human friends Anne’s known since she was little. 

But there’s something deeper there, too. Anne doesn’t read into it- there’s no reason to, not today. Maybe later, when her eyes aren’t weighed down by exhaustion after spending the whole day thinking that the Plantars were going to die from some deadly red disease, and worst of all it could’ve been her fault. After nearly losing them like that, Anne’s starting to reevaluate her friendships, even if it’s just a little bit. 

“He isn’t,” the Soldier says, her voice cracking a little. When she doesn’t say anything else, Anne rolls over and tries to go back to sleep. She doesn’t, and the girl is still awake when the sun takes the place of the red Amphibian moon the next morning. 

Anne still misses home, and she still misses Sasha and Marcy. She just doesn’t hate Amphibia as much as she did before. 

It isn’t until a few weeks later that Anne is forced to stand up for what she believes in and who she cares about. 

The Soldier’s actually doing better- she’s awake enough to sit up and talk, and Polly even brought her something to eat from breakfast. She hasn’t said anything about the future and seems more interested in making small talk about the vegetable stand than anything else, though, and honestly, Anne isn’t sure whether she’s relieved or disappointed. 

“This is exactly how I remember it, HP,” Anne’s future self shoots him an affectionate wink, stirring the green slop in her bowl around with her spoon. “Absolutely terrible. But hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?” The orange frog seems mildly offended by the Soldier’s description of his cooking but despite her somewhat snarky comment, the girl is eating like she hasn’t tasted something this good in months. 

Afterward, Anne and the Plantars head to the Grub & Go after promising to pick up some cricket candy for the Soldier and after the fifth awkward encounter with the townsfolk this week (she now knows the town’s motto is “Slow to accept, and even slower to respect,” but do they really have to be that slow? If someone calls her “Scarecrow” one more time, she might just explode), Anne finds out about a surprising fact. 

“Who are those guys?” A trio of amphibians, bulkier than the other frogs in Wartwood, have just rolled up to town. Their armor is marred by scars and battle marks, and while they’re certainly soldiers, they have a much different (for lack of a better word) vibe than the Soldier, like trying to compare a thorny vine to a rose. Similar, but not the same. 

“Toads from Toad Tower,” Hop Pop explains. “They rule over the entire valley.”

“Toad what,” Anne echoes. Sprig jumps up, holding out a map of Frog Valley. 

“It’s a big, scary tower deep in the swamp and the toads that live there are the valley’s fiercest warriors.” He taps the top left corner of the map, indicating a foreboding tower surrounded by bristling thorns. 

“Whoa! Cool.” Anne turns her attention from the map back to the toads, looking at them a little bit harder. Could they help her find her friends? If Marcy or Sasha were in Frog Valley anywhere, they might have seen them. 

“Cool, yes,” Hop Pop agrees. “But they can be a rough sort. It’s probably for the best that we all stay clear of-” Instead of letting him finish, Anne and Sprig hop over to the newcomers, who are unloading weapons and supplies from the back of their cart. Hop Pop sighs. “Oh, dang it. There they go.”

“Hey, guys,” Sprig is the first to pipe up, waving cheerfully. “So, you’re from Toad Tower?” 

“Sure are, runt,” replies the largest toad, one with yellow eyes and reddish skin. He doesn’t look up from his cart. 

“My name’s Sprig, actually,” the pink frog chuckles. 

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.” The toad turns around, finally catching sight of Anne. His eyes widen in surprise. “Whoa! What is that?” The other toads with him approach Anne, and the girl takes a step back. He continues talking as he looks her up and down. “…Some kind of gangly new critter I’ve never seen before.” 

“I wonder what it tastes like,” the blue toad behind him chimes in. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Sprig narrows his eyes. “She is not for eating.” 

“Don’t come any closer,” the girl adds, whipping out her tennis racket and brandishing it like a weapon. 

The blue toad laughs, pulling out a bat covered in spikes. “Is that a challenge?” Without any further warning, she lunges forward, swinging her weapon in skillful arcs. Anne narrowly dodges the first few blows before properly processing them, and then swings her tennis racket to connect painfully with the warrior’s face. 

The girl pulls back immediately at the sight of Sprig’s horrified expression out of the corner of her eye. Everyone pauses for a beat, and then the red toad laughs. 

“Whoa. That was awesome!” The blue toad, her face now covered in the gridlike imprint of a tennis racket, grins in admiration. 

“Well met, creature,” the red one adds. “I don’t know what you are, but you’ve got fire.”

Anne hums proudly, slinging her racket over her shoulder as she watches the toads leave. She’s just beat one of Amphibia’s greatest warriors in a fight. Sure, it wasn’t a proper battle or anything, but she was clearly outmatched and still managed to impress the toads. That was… more than she can say for the citizens of Wartwood, who treat her like she’s Sprig’s exotic pet.

“Okay, kids,” Hop Pop rolls in on Bessie, interrupting the girl’s musing. “That’s enough flirting with death. Let’s head home.”

“Blech,” Sprig turns to go with him, “finally. Come on, Anne.” 

Anne still hasn’t taken her eyes off of the toads but spins around to smile weakly at the Plantars when Sprig speaks. “Actually, I was thinking we could hang out with these guys a little longer. They seem pretty cool.” 

“Cool?” Sprig scoffs. “More like smelly. Not to mention creepy.” He motions to the toad in the suit of armor, with a helmet covering his face. The amphibian doesn’t say anything, instead just standing there and breathing heavily. Anne follows Sprig’s gaze, then turns to look at him again. 

“Waait a second. Are you jealous I think they’re cool?” She grins cheekily at the pink frog, who plasters a smile on his face as he responds. 

“No. Ha!” He throws his head back in a forced laugh. “If you wanna hang out with some grody toads, Anne, be my guest. No skin off my skin.” With that, the little frog hops back to Bessie, muttering something under his breath that Anne doesn’t catch. 

“Okay,” Hop Pop sighs, glancing back at the human teenager. “But don’t dally too long, Anne.”

“I’m eating your pancakes!” Polly announces as Bessie leaves. 

“Not jealous,” Sprig huffs, plopping down in his seat. Anne smirks. 

“Oh, he jelly.” 

She spins around again and heads back over to the toads. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance to ask your-”

The red toad shoves her arms full of weapons, and the girl lets out a little gasp of surprise. “Name’s Bog,” he says. “The silent one there is Mire.” The toad gives a thumbs-up. “And Fens here you’ve already met.” He motions to the blue toad that Anne whacked with her tennis racket earlier. 

“I’m Anne,” the girl introduces herself with a little smile. “What are you guys doing in Wartwood?” 

“Every year, this town sends taxes to the tower.” As Bog explains, he pulls out a small ax and spins it masterfully, the blade moving so fast it blurs for a moment. “Well, this year, they came up short. So the mayor gave us a list of frogs who didn’t pay and we’re just here to collect.” He examines his reflection in the ax’s blade and picks a bit of cricket out of his teeth, then holds up the list to show Anne. “Say, we could use someone like you.” 

Anne makes a face, smiling incredulously. “Really?” 

“Yeah!” Bog grins. “You’ve got inside knowledge of this town. It’ll make the whole job go a lot smoother.” He pulls out a shiny silver badge, one that matches the badges he, Fens, and Mire are wearing. 

“Oh, um…” Anne eyes it, hesitating. “…I don’t know. I’m not sure any of this is my business.” She glances at the weapons in her arms, then her gaze flicks down to the ground beside her. They clearly have things under control, it’s not like they need more for this to go well or anything. 

“You know,” Bog admires the design of the silver, grinning, “the best part of wearing this badge is how everyone in this town will have to treat you with respect.” 

Anne drops the box of weapons with a loud clattering noise, beaming as she holds out her hand. “Gimme that ding-dang thing!” 

Anne arrives back at the Plantar’s farm a little while later, proudly sporting her new badge. The Soldier isn’t around (she most likely went back to resting), and Sprig and Hop Pop are playing some kind of weird Amphibian chess in the living room. 

“Guess who became a Toad Tower deputy!” the girl declares, putting her hands on her hips proudly. 

“WHAT?” the entire family stares at her, slack-jawed in awe. Anne’s grin only gets bigger. 

“Also, check out this cool sword Bog gave me.” She mimics swooshing noises and waves the weapon around, accidentally cutting a nearby coat hanger in half. “I can fix that.” 

“Anne, when I said earn the town’s respect,” Hop Pop holds up his hands, “I didn’t mean join a gang.” 

Anne gawks at him. “I don’t believe this. They’re not a gang. They’re just here to do a job!” The elderly orange frog doesn’t look convinced. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some respect to enjoy.” 

Just before she can turn to leave, there’s a weak knock on the door to the basement. Polly bounces over and opens it, and the Soldier blinks drowsily as she pokes her head out. “Who joined a gang?” 

“No one,” Anne says at the same time Sprig, Polly, and Hop Pop say “Anne.” 

Anne’s future self, who was in the middle of pulling herself out of the basement with a wince, suddenly freezes. Her eyes trail up to Anne’s badge, and something akin to horror flickers in them for a moment. “Oh. That’s today.” She lightly rubs a scar on her right arm, letting Sprig and Polly help her onto the couch. Anne’s stomach suddenly squirms. 

“What do you mean, ‘That’s today?’ What’s today?” Sprig interrupts before Anne can open her mouth. “Is Anne gonna get hurt working with these toads?” 

“It’s…” The Soldier opens her mouth, then closes it, scrunching up her eyes at an oncoming headache. “…complicated.”

“I’ll be careful,” Anne offers hurriedly. She doesn’t like where this conversation is going. Not waiting for a response, the girl quickly slips out the door, fidgeting with her hands anxiously. 

In the beginning, it goes well, for the most part. Sure, the toads have some strange methods of… reminding citizens to pay their taxes? Making sure they pay their taxes? Anne isn’t sure what exactly they’re doing, and it’s a bit harsh, but it’s just the way things work, apparently. And if these frogs didn’t pay their taxes, then the toads are allowed to take their things. That seems fair, right? 

The longer Anne tries to think about it, the less it makes sense, so she doesn’t. 

She also doesn’t think about what the Soldier said. As long as she’s careful, nothing bad will happen. 

But then the frogs the toads are “reclaiming” items from are getting closer and closer to home. Felicia Sundew, not paying taxes? Honestly, Anne doesn’t know her that well besides the fact that she’s Ivy’s mom, so who knows? Loggle not paying taxes? Anne can see that if she squints. Even Mrs. Croaker Anne can see skipping out on her taxes just once, though she doubts the purple frog deserves to have so many of her belongings taken away. 

The girl makes sure to return as much as she can- a bag of beetle jerky for Wally, a “#1 MOM” mug for Felicia, a dragon-shaped cane for Loggle, and the little bed belonging to Mrs. Croaker’s pet spider, Archie. As she carries a grandfather clock out of Mrs. Croaker’s home, Anne voices her concerns. 

“I don’t know, guys,” she admits wearily, a shiver traveling up her spine. “This whole thing feels… wrong.” She heaves as she puts the clock in the back of the toad’s cart, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. Bog shrugs. 

“The law’s the law, Anne. It can be tough, but this kind of work needs to get done.” 

“Yeah,” Fens pipes up, halfway through shoving a handful of fly flakes in her mouth. “Needs to get done. Stuff, gotta get it done.”

Anne crinkles up her nose; “I… guess that makes sense. Who’s next on the list?” 

Bog hums for a moment, dragging a claw down the parchment. He stops and taps a name Anne can’t make out from the distance. “Eh, some nut named ‘Hopediah Plantar.’” He shrugs. 

“Ohhh, crud.” 

Anne marches over, her heartbeat speeding up. “Bog, that list has to be wrong. I know that frog- he’s totally honest!” 

“Anne, the tower didn’t get any taxes, okay? And if we didn’t get the money, then where is it?” 

Anne rubs her arm, biting her lip. “I don’t know.” 

When they arrive at the Plantar’s house, storm clouds are beginning to gather. Hop Pop and Polly stand in front of the door, Polly making an adorably angry face. The Soldier looms behind them, eyes narrowed as well. 

“Like I said, I already paid my ding-dang taxes! You can’t come in here, and that’s final.” The orange frog squares his shoulders, and even though the Soldier’s injured, she wields a sword at her side and glares directly at Bog. There was some initial confusion over there being two Annes, but the toads seemed to have brushed it off as all humans looking the same. 

“I don’t like your tone, frog,” Bog snarls. “Or did you forget who you’re talking to?” 

“Bog, I’m telling you, he paid his taxes,” Anne pleads, one last attempt to defuse the situation. “He… he made me watch.” 

“And then you add up your deductibles and… Oop! Guess what, Anne? You’re a deductible!”  

“Killll meee.”

“Anne, they all said they’ve paid,” Bog throws his arms into the air, growling. “I don’t care what you think you saw. The list don’t lie.” Anne takes a step back, and the toad rubs his hands together. “Now, what should we start with?” 

“Well, how about that thing?” Fens points at Bessie, who looks up from her grass and makes an innocent “meep mrp?” sound. 

“You stay away from her,” Hop Pop glares daggers. 

“I’ll bite your face off!” Polly adds in fury. 

Ignoring them, Bog crosses his arms and nods in grim approval. “Good choice. That snail should cover everything. Mire, Fens, Anne, move out.” The toads step towards Bessie, but Anne draws back, bringing her arms to her chest. 

“Don’t come any closer,” the Soldier hisses, her eyes glinting dangerously. She brandishes a sword, and a strangely familiar energy thrums in the air that makes Anne’s fingers feel tingly. After a moment, though, Anne’s future self steps back, lowering her weapon without a fight. 

“You monsters!” Hop Pop cries, watching but frozen to the spot. Even Polly doesn’t move, helpless fury written across her face. 

Anne clutches the badge stapped across her chest, then looks from the toads to Bessie, to the Plantars, and finally back to herself. The girl scrunches her eyes shut and her voice rings out just before Fens takes the purple snail. 

“Stop!” 

Everyone turns to stare at her. The Soldier looks up, her mouth thinning into a straight line. Anne inhales, summing up her courage, and continues. 

“You keep your claws off that snail. Better yet…” she marches to stand beside Hop Pop, Polly, and her future self, stomping her foot in the dirt, “get off our property.” 

Lighting crashes, thunder booms, and rain starts to fall. Anne stares defiantly at the three toads, and that soft tingling feeling returns a little stronger, blossoming out from her chest. 

Bog bares his teeth, eyes narrowed to slits. His voice comes out a raspy, low whisper Anne strains to hear above the rain. “Care to repeat that?”

Anne tilts her head at him, crossing her arms as a bolt of lightning silhouettes her against the grey sky for a moment. “I said get lost. Now.” 

She hears murmuring, and watches as the people of Wartwood crowd around the Plantar farm, murmuring among themselves. 

“Oh, she’s brave.” 

“What did she just say?”

Anne pulls off the badge, staring at her reflection in it. The essay her principal wanted her to write flashes through her mind like the lightning sparkling around her, reflecting blue in her eyes: Who am I? 

“All I wanted was this town’s respect,” she murmurs. “But just because these people treated me crummy doesn't mean I’m going to do the same to them. I’m done with this. I don’t care if they’ve broken the law. You can’t treat people like this!” 

And with that, the girl rips off the strap that was holding her shoulder guard in place, throwing the little silver badge to the ground. It lands in the mud, its surface still smooth and slick with the rain that pours down over her eyes and drenches her clothes. 

The townsfolk gasp, then cheer. 

Bog fumes, snapping his fingers. The Soldier lets out a shout, but Anne’s too slow to avoid getting shoved to the ground by Fens. The girl tries to push herself out of the mud, but a heavy boot stomps on her back and holds her down. When Hop Pop and Polly try to spring to her rescue, Mire grabs them and holds them back no matter how hard they thrash against him. Polly waves her flippers wildly, trying to slip out of the toad’s grasp. 

“Hey, let me go. Let me go, let me go!” 

The Soldier takes a step forward, then lets out a murmur of pain and stops again, clutching her ribs and glaring at the toads. 

Bog makes a little tsk, tsk, tsk sound, shaking his head with a smile. “How disappointing. Do you know what we do to traitors in the tower, Anne?” He raises a silver hammer above his head, and Anne hears Fens’ laughter behind her. 

“You’re about to be a pill pug pancake, you little brat.” 

“Your foot’s about to be a pancake,” Anne replies, sliding out from under Fens’ foot at the last second. Bog’s hammer lands right on top of it with a soft but unpleasant-sounding crunch. Fens lets out a yell of pain, and Bog bares his teeth once again. 

Anne ducks and rolls, clutching the toads’ sword with one hand and her tennis racket with the other. 

Fens charges first, letting out a battle cry as she raises her weapon. Anne deflects, sending her crashing into a bale of hay behind her. She spins around just in time to block Bog’s attack, and grits her teeth as the red toad sends both of the weapons flying out of her hands. They land in the mud a ways away, too far out of Anne’s reach, leaving her disarmed. 

The Soldier winces and closes her eyes as Anne reaches out, and the BOOM of thunder blocks out the sickening crack as Fens’ bat collides with Anne’s outstretched arm. 

Anne lets out a sharp cry of agony, stumbling back into the mud. She clutches her arm to her chest, one eye closed as tears of pain form in the corners of her eyes. Bog and Fens loom over her, chuckling. 

“Sorry, creature,” Bog says, raising his hammer to deal the final blow, “it’s just business.”

A glob of mud lands on the side of his face. 

“What the-”

Sprig bounds out of the trees, landing on a rock and aiming for the toads hurting his friend with his slingshot. “You leave her alone!” 

“Yeah, you leave our Anne alone!” Wally cheers. 

“She’s one of us!” Felicia agrees. The townsfolk crowd around the toads, bristling. 

“You gotta problem with her, you got a problem with all of us,” Mrs. Croaker puts up her fists, and beside her, Archie hisses. The other Wartwoodians take up sickles, pitchforks, and other sharp farming tools. 

Bog and Fens drop their weapons, and the little door on Mire’s helmet swings on its hinges, revealing a pale green toad. He lets out a little squeal of fear and releases Hop Pop and Polly, who run to Anne’s side along with Sprig. The Soldier hangs back, leaning heavily against the doorframe but smiling hopefully. 

“Hey,” Anne grins weakly at Sprig, still clutching her arm, “what took you so long?” 

“Sorry, I got tied up,” Sprig explains. 

Just then, Mayor Toadstool comes crashing out of the bushes, panting heavily. Sprig frowns and points an accusatory finger at him. “Arrest that toad! He stole the town’s money and was keeping it all for himself.” Everyone gasps and turns to stare at Toadstool, who sweats nervously. 

They head back to Wartwood, where the mayor’s new statue is up, and Sprig explains that Toadstool hid the money he took from the taxpayers inside of it. Sure enough, all of the money Toad Tower was supposed to be paid is there, and Bog begrudgingly apologizes for taking everyone’s belongings. 

Once Anne’s arm is bandaged up, she and the Plantars help make sure everyone gets their stuff back. 

“If it was respect you were looking for,” Bog smiles at Anne, “you sure lost mine.” His grin turns into a frown as he walks past her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, I’ll give you that.” He narrows his eyes at the girl, and the next part comes out as a hiss: “We’ll be back, Anne, and we won’t be alone.” As he loads the taxes into the back of the cart, the Wartwoodians shout after him. 

“She don’t need your respect!”

“Yeah! She’s got ours!” They cheer as the toads leave, and Anne sighs, rubbing her arm. 

“You feeling alright?” Sprig asks tentatively, reaching up to her but stopping midway. 

“Yeah,” Anne smiles warmly at him. The Soldier was right. But… Anne learned something today. She learned to stand up for herself, and she learned what it feels like to have someone else stand up for her. It’s the first step in a journey, she knows, especially if her endpoint is to end up bleeding out in the woods, but maybe things won’t be too bad as long as she has a friend by her side. “…I’ll be alright.” 

Before Sprig can respond, one of the villagers lets out a startled shout. “SPIDER INCOMING! DUCK AND COVER EVERYBODY, IT’S A BIG ONE!!” 

The Wartwoodians scatter, and Sprig moves to take Anne and drag her away. But the girl pauses, squinting at the bright glare of the sun against her eyes. 

Hold on a second.  

The spider mount crashes to a stop, and the figure riding on its back loudly mutters a curse, hopping off as the thing skitters away, chittering angrily. 

“And just when I thought Grime had taught me everything-” she cuts herself off, staring up at Anne and Sprig. 

The other girl’s blonde hair is loose and messy and falls just below her shoulders. She’s wearing red armor with blue highlights and has a wild, furry cape that looks awfully hot for this weather. Her eyes - one blue and one brown - widen, and her mouth hangs open. 

“Anne?”

Anne’s heart speeds up, and her own expression goes from confused to worried to shocked in the span of very few seconds. 

“Sasha?”

Chapter Text

…Sasha isn’t sure, exactly, how long she’s been here. It’s been simultaneously excruciatingly boring and ridiculously terrifying almost constantly and she lost count after about week three. 

Her future counterpart hardly ever says anything to her, and nearly every time she speaks, the Commander glares at her like she’d like to wring her past self’s neck and the only thing stopping her is the fact it’d kill the both of them. 

It’s only when Grime shows up to berate the two of them with questions that past and future work together to send him running in circles. It’s the only entertaining thing happening anymore, but even this is starting to turn into a chore because Sasha knows her future self could answer the captain’s questions because she’s from the future and she knows, and if she just told him what she knew then they could get out of here right now, and finding Marcy and Anne would be a lot easier. 

But instead, she’s forced to boredly respond the way she often does: “Who sent me? No one. How’d I get here? Don’t know. What do I want? To find my friends and go home.” She lets out a long, tired sigh. “Haven’t we been through this enough?”

Grime snarls, turning his eyes to the Commander, who glances up from whatever she was doing, which seems like some kind of counting off her fingers and comparing them to the marks she’s written all over the wall. She’s muttering to herself and it takes her a moment to turn her attention to the toad captain. 

“Hmm?” she hums innocently. 

The captain grimaces and glances back at Sasha, eyes narrowed. “It’ll be enough once you start giving me real answers. Until then-”

“Captain Grime! Captain Grime! Sir!” Braddock, one of the toads Sasha has talked to before and one of the friendlier guards at the tower, runs into the room, saluting militaristically. She, along with Percy, is one of the guards that the Commander tries to avoid talking to. Sasha’s caught her future self biting her lip and avoiding their eyes on multiple occasions, and it makes her wonder what the other blonde is holding back about the future. 

At the sight of Sasha, Braddock immediately breaks her stiff posture. “Oh, heyy, Sash,” she waves at the girl with a warm smile while Grime stands to the side, his mouth hanging open in quiet disgust. Sasha, meanwhile, returns the toad guard’s smile with a grin of her own. 

“Braddock! Heyy, girlfriend, how’s the garden coming along?” In the corner of her eye, she sees the Commander scratch out the tally marks on the wall with a wordless noise of an emotion Sasha doesn’t recognize. Desperation? Fear? Anger? Whatever it is, the girl ignores the shiver of terror that slips down her spine. 

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. You should see the squash-”

“Did you need something, soldier?” Grime snarls, causing Braddock to snap back into a salute. 

“Oh! Right, yes. We may have a small problem.” 

The two toads leave, heading up to the top of the tower. Sasha hears Grime say something about killing the torches, and when she squints into the distance, she can make out the shape of a pair of what look like giant herons. 

“A bird,” the blonde crinkles up her nose. “You guys are scared of a bird.” 

“Quiet,” Grime and, surprisingly, the Commander, hiss at the same time. 

“That is not just a bird,” Sasha’s future self whispers. “Those are herons.” 

The captain seems mildly surprised by the Commander’s evaluation, but continues. “Yes. A murderous predator that happens to love the taste of flesh.” 

Sasha blinks. “Cute.” 

“Ohhhh my frog, I can’t believe this is happening,” the Commander sinks against the wall, dragging her hands down her face. “No, wait, I can, it’s Amphibia, of course I’ll have to live through this again.” 

That’s a good thing, Sasha convinces herself. That means I’ll survive whatever the hell happens with these giant turkeys. The Commander’s expression really isn’t that comforting, though.

“The most important thing right now is that we be very, very quiet,” Grime whispers. He’s cut off by the sound of a door swinging open somewhere below, and Percy - wearing his noisy instrumental outfit, much to Sasha’s dismay - walks out, cymbals crashing and horn tooting with every step he takes. 

Oh, fuck.  

The Commander doesn’t do anything but get up and step back from the wall as Braddock, Grime, and Sasha all desperately try to get Percy’s attention. 

“Sorry guys,” the green toad smiles innocently, turning around to look up at the people waving their arms at him, “but this toad’s gotta follow his dreams!” 

A massive clawed foot stomps behind him, and the toad freezes abruptly, eyes wide in terror. Slowly he turns his head up to see the pair of herons looming over him, eyes burning with what Sasha can only describe as bloodlust.  

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Percy lets out a scream of fear, trying to make a break for the tower, but one of the herons scoops him up in its beak. The two birds fight over the toad for a few moments before accidentally dropping him, and as soon as he hits the ground Percy’s up and running again. The two herons stomp after him, each step they take bringing them closer to the tower. 

“Don’t lead them here, you fool! Argh!” Grime pulls out a horn and blows it, shouting at the soldiers below. “Close the gates!” 

“Wait for me!” Percy jumps through at the last second, landing in a heap just inside the closing doors. 

Sasha looks down at these proceedings through the little window of her cell, trying to stomp down her fear with some classic teenage indifference. “Whoa, this is serious.” 

“Look out-” the Commander doesn’t get to finish as a heron smashes through the wall, screeching loud enough to make Sasha’s ears ring and knocking her to the ground while the wind whooshes out of her lungs. 

“Oh, FUCK!” She doesn’t actually know if she said that or something more toned-down, but she certainly meant to use a stronger word. 

The Commander grabs a dagger from… somewhere and pushes herself to her feet, narrowing her eyes. Sasha follows her example and takes up a defensive stance, hands balling into fists. 

“Bring it on, birdbrain!” 

The heron jabs at the two girls with its beak, but she and the Commander dodge out of the way and Sasha grabs her little bowl of gruel, jumping up around the attack and launching herself at the heron’s face. “Eat THIS!” 

She smashes the bowl into the bird’s head, and it screeches and falls back. The Commander moves in kind, scratching at the heron’s eye with her clawed glove. 

It only takes a moment to recover, though, and as soon as the bird regains its senses it screeches again, thrusting its razor-sharp beak at Sasha. The Commander whirls around a heartbeat too slow and for a moment Sasha’s thirteen-year-long life flashes before her eyes, from her arguing parents to the crummy kids at her school she’s only friends with to keep up appearances, to the confession she never got to make to Marcy and Anne, to the artificial blonde hair dye she bought in bulk that’s impossible to wash out and has been her saving grace these past few weeks. 

Huh, guess the Commander was wrong about me surviving today. Eh, if I’m gonna go out, it might as well be while fighting a giant bloodthirsty bird in a freaky tower in an alternate dimension.  

And then Grime jumps in front of her, stopping the heron’s attack and holding its beak open with his bare hands. He grunts from the strain and glances back at the girls. “Creatures, fight with me! And together we’ll- aaand they’re gone.” 

Sasha makes a break for the exit, the Commander hot on her heels. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” her future self runs ahead of her and stops her in her tracks. “It’s tempting, but right now he needs our help.”

Sasha pauses for a second, narrowing her eyes, but then nods wordlessly, grabbing a barrel of some kind of bug equivalent to liquor and running back to help. 

Grime’s been knocked to the ground and glares at the heron as he speaks, his voice a low growl. “I’m not afraid of death.” 

“Hey,” Sasha shouts, holding the barrel above her head, “ugly chicken!” 

It hits the bird square in the face and spills green liquid everywhere, and the thing squeaks weakly before pulling itself away to wreak havoc somewhere else. 

Grime lets out a dry, impressed chuckle as Sasha brushes her hands together and then puts them on her hips. “Where did you get moves like that?” 

The girl shrugs nonchalantly. “Cheerleading, believe it or not.” 

“I’m sorry, cheer what-?”

“Okay, listen up,” Sasha interrupts him, glaring down at the warty old toad, “if we” -she includes the Commander with a little wave of her hand, and her future self nods- “help you get rid of these birds, you will give us provisions, and release us. Deal?” 

Grime hesitates for only a moment before grinning. “Deal.” He pulls himself to his feet and grins. “Now grab every toad you can and head to the safe room.” The herons outside screech, and he hisses a curse under his breath. “Quickly!” 

The safe room isn’t actually as safe as Sasha would’ve hoped. It’s the lowest level of the tower above the dungeons that went out of service likely years ago, and the doors are barricaded by a small group of toads and a wooden plank. The entire room rumbles a bit with every attack the herons make, and the remaining soldiers clutch each other and shiver in fear. 

The Commander paces back and forth along the floor, muttering something to herself about strategies and weak points, but stops halfway through to facepalm and groan in exasperation. 

“Y’know what would lighten this atmosphere a little bit?” Percy nervously clenches his hands together, trying to smile reassuringly. “A joke!” He grins here, leaning in conspiratorially. “How many herons does it take to storm a castle? Augh!” He flinches back as Grime whips out a sword, holding it against his throat. “Too soon?” 

“You lot are, without a doubt, the most useless group of toads I have ever seen!” Grime glares daggers at each of his soldiers, lowering his sword so it’s pointed at the ground instead of Percy. Sasha glances up from her nails, blinking at the captain’s insults. Who decided that this guy should’ve been put in charge of an army? “Maybe if any of you had a scrap of courage, we wouldn’t be in here cowering like a bunch of-”

“Ooookay,” the blonde interrupts, putting a hand on Grime’s shoulder and forcing a smile as she chuckles nervously. “Alright, let’s take five. Grimesey, a word in private, please?” She ushers the toad behind a curtain, and the Commander makes a face before moving to follow them. 

“Okay,” Sasha pulls the curtain down, frowning deeply, “if you keep yelling at them like that, they’ll keep being useless, aand we’ll all die.” She gives an artificial smile, pressing her hands together in front of her. The Commander opens her mouth, then snaps it shut with a grimace. 

“What do you suggest, I congratulate them? Give them each an award?” Grime crosses his arms and spits, the acid eating through the stone floors. 

“Ohhh, I forgot you could do that,” the Commander blinks, then shrugs when the other two turn to look at her. “What?”

Sasha bites her lip, then brushes it off, turning to address Captain Grime once more. “Not exactly.” She smiles disarmingly. “Just try saying nice things for a change. Get them to love you, and they’ll do anything for you.” The Commander’s head shoots up, suddenly intently listening to the conversation with glinting eyes.

“That actually works?” Grime asks incredulously, seeming to notice. 

Sasha thinks back to Anne and Marcy before tucking those thoughts away again. “Oh, it works, all right. Trust me.” 

“Yeah, sure,” the Commander finally butts in, her hands balled into fists. “It works until they finally figure out what you’ve been doing, and then they hate you tenfold. It works until someone ends up hurt because of you. It works until you’re on your own, and you’ve got nothing to do but try to fix whatever’s left of your friendship even though you don’t deserve their forgiveness, because maybe then, you’ll at least become someone who is.” 

“I feel like this conversation isn’t about the soldiers anymore,” Grime whispers loudly to Sasha, who narrows her eyes at her future counterpart and ignores the toad captain. 

“What are you suggesting?” she takes a step forward, gritting her teeth. 

“You know exactly what, Sasha Waybright,” the Commander crosses her arms. “I promised not to screw up the timeline, but I’m sure clocking you in the jaw won’t affect much besides getting you to finally shut up.” She cracks her knuckles to emphasize her willingness to follow through on her word. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Sasha bristles, looking her future self up and down. The Commander’s definitely got more muscle than her, and probably more battle training, plus more experience with the fighting techniques Sasha’s used to. Her opponent probably knows her better than she knows herself, but if she does something totally off-the-rockers it might throw her off for a split second. 

Grime looks between the two girls and their sudden hostility, his expression now a mildly confused frown. “…Did I miss something?” 

The Commander glares daggers for a moment and then steps back with a huff. Sasha’s about to do the same, but then her future self lunges forward with her hand curled into a fist. It connects with the girl’s nose and she stumbles back as a sudden crack reverberates through her skull. 

“Ow! What the fuck!” 

Sasha clutches her nose for a moment, wincing at the bright sting of pain it brings her, then forces down the tears of discomfort that have welled up in her eyes and wipes away the blood on her upper lip with a grimace. She orders her legs to stop shaking- she is not letting herself cry in front of these people. She is not giving the Commander that satisfaction. 

The Commander stares back, exhaling slowly. The two girls don’t break tense, silent eye contact until Grime interrupts. 

“If you’re going to try to kill each other, I suggest leaving it until after the herons are dealt with,” he offers, though his tone is gruffly bemused rather than annoyed. 

“Fine,” the Commander steps away with one last glare, but Sasha notices with satisfaction that her hands are shaking- in fact, her whole frame has a sudden, trembling, delicateness to it, like one gust of wind will knock her over. It’s a far cry from the bristling warrior she was just two seconds ago. She avoids her past self’s eyes as she leans back heavily against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. 

Sasha ignores how her hands also tremble, trying her best not to focus on the throbbing in her face. Oh, my nose is definitely broken. Fuck.  

There’s a few moments of awkward quiet again before Sasha turns to address Grime with a long, slow exhale. “Here, I’ll get you start-” 

The Commander straightens her slouched position against the wall and strides forward, shooting her past self a quick mix between a glare and something else Sasha can’t decipher as she walks past, brushing the curtain aside with a little huff. Sasha, mildly annoyed, follows her out to see what she’s doing. 

“Toads of the South Tower,” the Commander motions to the gathered soldiers, most of whom are quivering in fear, as far away from the bolted-shut door as they can get. Her tone commands - excuse the pun - respect, and almost every head in the room turns to look at her. “I understand that none of you know me very well yet, but I know all of you.” 

She glances in the direction of a toad with lots of bandages wrapped around his limbs and a cast on his leg. Sasha’s seen him around before, with considerably less injuries, but he’s never actually been the one to guard her and she’s never learned his name. He leans heavily on a crutch, but looks up when the Commander’s eyes turn to him. 

“Gary, you’ve never missed a day- your dedication to your job is more important to you than your personal wellbeing.” She pauses. “Once this is over, take a break, man. You deserve it.” Gary looks mildly shocked. Sasha narrows her eyes. Is she seriously taking control of the situation instead of me?

“Braddock,” the Commander actually looks directly at the toad, and Sasha swears there are tears forming in her eyes, which is ridiculous, “you are one of the kindest toads I’ve ever met. You don’t care what anyone else thinks of you, you don’t take crap from anyone, and…” she trails off, biting her lip. “And I’m proud to have known you, even if you don’t know me very well yet.” 

“O-oh, well,” Braddock blushes as the other toads all ooh and ah at her, “I do wash with a steel wool brush.” Her expression darkens. “It really hurts.”

Next up is Percy- the toad looks extremely confused when the Commander puts her hand on his shoulder. “You are the most lovable idiot I’ve ever met, excluding Anne and Marcy.” The older blonde girl gives a weak chuckle. “You always follow your dreams, no matter the cost, and when you make a mistake, you own it. Not only do you have my respect, but I’m sure you have Captain Grime’s as well.” 

The captain startles, and Sasha notes with annoyance that he was as transfixed by the Commander’s speech as everyone else was. 

With a sweep of her furred cape, Sasha’s future self addresses the soldiers as a whole once more: “You are all great warriors, and I know that we can defeat these herons if we work together and fight hard. Grime might be tough on you, but that’s because-” She hesitates, the briefest flicker of guilt in her eyes, then continues as if nothing happened. Sasha is certain no one else caught the Commander’s slip-up. 

“-Because he knows that all of you are some of the best fighters in all of Frog Valley- no, in the entire Toad Army. And he knows that you can do better.” She grins, hand balled into a fist, and gives Sasha a raised eyebrow that says Looks like you missed out, Captain of the Cheerleaders. The Commander pumps her fist into the air, not letting her grin drop. “Now who’s ready to take back this tower from those dumb birds?” 

There’s a moment of pause, and then Percy steps forward, gathering his courage. “Commander,” he nods at her, “Captain Grime, sir. We’re taking this tower back, even if we have to fight through twenty herons. Now come on, you toads,” he turns to the crowd, “no one wants to live forever!”

The soldiers cheer and run outside, holding their weapons above their heads and fighting off the herons. As the safe room empties, Sasha strides over to the Commander, forcing a smile. 

“Wow, that was a really convincing speech you gave there,” she comments, smirking. “Y’know, for a second you almost had me. Good job!” She gives a little clap and, at the Commander’s steely expression, continues: “Aw, don’t worry. You obviously convinced all of them- I’m just better at seeing through stuff like that. Experience, you of all people know that.” 

As she turns to leave and assist in the fight, the girl feels a grip like iron around her arm. The blonde flinches and turns around. The Commander is glaring daggers, and it’s enough to make even Sasha shrink back a little bit. Her nose starts throbbing again. 

“I am not that person anymore,” the battle-scarred version of her hisses.  

“Keep telling yourself that, Commander.” The younger, non-time-tossed blonde rips her arm out of her future self’s grip and walks away with a huff, even as her insides churn with fear. 

I hate this.  

Sasha watches for a few moments as the toads scramble to fight, and is about to join Grime in helping them when she sees a blur of red and blue out of the corner of her eye. Grabbing a nearby weapon, she moves to investigate. 

The Commander is climbing onto a spider, muttering to herself. 

“HEY!” Sasha wields the clublike stick dangerously, eyes narrowed. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m getting out of your hair,” the Commander snarls back, waving an arm at the battle happening just a little while away. “Go ahead. Fight the herons. Lead the toads. Take control. The last thing I wanted to do was screw with the timeline as much as I already have. I’m going to find Anne - my Anne, not the past version of her - and we’re going to figure out how to get back to the future before anything else gets screwed up.” 

Sasha glares at her future self. Will she really become such a… a coward in the future?

“You’ve already screwed it up quite a bit already,” the younger blonde replies, motioning to her broken nose. “I think this timeline’s already shot.” I hope it is, anyway. I never want to be like you.

“I-” The Commander looks like she wants to continue arguing, but catches herself. “I’m leaving before this gets any worse. Go earn the toads respect, you’ll need it.” The unspoken because you certainly don’t have mine hangs in the air, and before Sasha can properly process it, the Commander’s gone, nothing but a quickly speeding-away girl on a giant spider. 

Sasha rejoins the fight, tightly gripping her stick as she faces down the herons, Grime at her back. She doesn’t have time to think about what just happened, instead focusing on taking out the oversized chickens with as much anger as she can muster. 

She hits them between the eyes as many times as she can, subconsciously comparing everything to the complex cheerleading routines she did back on Earth. Captain of the Cheerleaders. Yeah, sure, why not?  

As the herons flee, leaving the ruins of Toad Tower behind them, she and Grime turn around to face the assembled troops, who all gasp in awe. 

“Toads of Toad Tower,” Grime announces, “today was a great victory! If it weren’t for your bravery, the fortress would be lost. You’re all heroes!”

There’s a momentary silence over the crowd, and then cheering. Sasha lets herself enjoy it for a moment, smiling along to the hoots of victory as the toads rejoice. 

“Wait, hold on,” someone in the back asks, confused. “Where’d the other one of you go?” Sasha startles as everyone’s attention is curiously turns on her. So she speaks the truth: 

“She ran off in the middle of the battle, like a coward.” The shocked and disappointed gasps from the crowd fuel her forward. “She wasn’t a proper commander, just a fake who couldn’t handle the power. She stole one of the giant spiders and ran off- you can check the stables, it’s true.” 

The toads murmur amongst themselves for a few moments, and to Sasha’s satisfaction she hears words like “coward” and “traitor” being thrown around. After a moment, she nods at Grime. 

“Alright, troops. Listen up.” Immediately the toads stop chattering and straighten into a militaristic line, saluting in unison. 

“SIR, YES SIR!” 

“Oh… kay, wow,” the captain murmurs to himself, then perks up, “head down to the mess hall for some food and a round of beetle mead! You’ve earned it.” The toads smile, giving a much more excited but still just as serious “SIR, YES SIR” before quickly marching away to the mess hall. 

Grime grins, impressed and more than a little surprised. “Unbelievable! This… compliment stuff is witchcraft.” 

“Mhm, yeah, okay,” Sasha studies her nails for a moment, though there’s a prickle of uncomfortability on the back of her neck now. “Anyways, I upheld my part of the deal. So give me some rations, a map, maybe a cool cloak or two,” she holds up Grime’s as an example, “and I’ll be on my way.” 

Before she can say anything else, Grimes sword is pointed at her neck, the tip dangerously close to her skin. 

“Not so fast. You are far too dangerous and manipulative to be left to roam free- I’m certain the other one of you is going to stir up plenty of trouble as it is.”

Sasha curls up her nose in disgust and anger. “You warty little-” 

“But we both know I can't stop you.” The toad captain sheathes his sword again, motioning to the foreboding trees beyond the tower’s gates. “So go ahead, be a vagabond, wandering alone in the wilderness.” Sasha turns to watch as the two screeching herons flap away, involuntarily shivering. The Commander’s out there, too. The last thing she wants is to ever see her future self again. 

“Or?” she prods. 

“Orr…” Grime turns to grin at her, “stay here, help us rebuild the tower. Perhaps serve as my second-in-command. And when we’re done here, you, me, and the entire garrison will march on the valley, restore order, and… find your friends. Now, how does that sound?” 

Sasha hums thoughtfully for a moment, a smirk tugging on her lips. “…I think I can live with that.” 

Grime returns her smile, waving an arm. “Then come, Lieutenant! We have much to discuss.” A toad runs to meet up with him as he turns to leave, saying something about a Bog returning from Wartwood, and Sasha reaches into her pocket to pull out a slightly-ripped polaroid photo. 

Smiling up from the paper are Anne, Marcy, and herself, arms looped around each other, grinning like idiots. Anne’s dad had taken the picture at random at some point after school while the girls were getting ready for a sleepover- three pictures, one for each of the trio. On the bottom, “BFFs!!” with a heart next to it is written in sparkly purple gel pen. Sasha runs a finger along the outlines of Anne and Marcy’s faces, wondering what they must look like in the future and if their current versions are in this kooky place somewhere. 

“Hold on a little longer, girls,” she murmurs, “I’m coming for you. And when I find you, we’re gonna get home. But first,” she glances up again at Toad Tower with a smirk, letting her worries fall away for just a moment, “I think we’re gonna have some fun with this place.” 

Chapter Text

Newtopia is everything Marcy could’ve wanted from a fantasy and more. 

A majestic city with rising pillars of marble and coral and gold? Check, like something straight out of the grandest fairytale. 

Magic is real in this dimension? Also check! (Though Marcy’s not actually gotten the chance to practice it yet.) 

An old, wise, and above all, kind king ruling over the whole place? Double triple infinity check! It’s like one of the fantasy worlds Marcy read about in her books, but not plagued by any kind of evil! It’s perfect.  

Except for the fact that she doesn’t know where Anne and Sasha are. She’s read, at least a little bit, about the giant dangerous insects and other fauna that roam the land. But she’s sure her friends are fine. If any of the other Amphibian settlements are anything like Newtopia, there’s no way either of her girls are in any danger. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss them, though - she misses them more than anything. 

It’s been about a week since she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her arm, and about a week since she last saw the strange figure at the top of the staircase. She hasn’t been able to get the image of them out of her head since then - its twisting black horns and fathomless orange eyes refuse to leave her memory no matter how hard she tries to forget them. She’s ninety percent sure that interdimensional travel just messes with your brain, though, since she hasn’t seen any sign of it or anything even remotely like it since. 

Maybe it’s like how dreams can reveal a lot about you, she thinks. Maybe it was… gosh, I dunno, a manifestation of my inner darkness, or something. In that case, maybe she should ask King Andrias about it. Maybe he could help her find a book about weird hallucinations people have after getting thrown across dimensions. 

Besides that, though, things are going well for Marcy Wu. She’s a chief ranger in the Night Guard and played Flipwart (a sort of Amphibian equivalent to chess, just with slightly different rules) against the king, and won. She’s improved the city’s sewer system, fought a giant crab, helped to reinforce a crumbling bridge, had a gold statue made in her honor, and she honestly would only be happier if Anne and Sasha were here with her. 

She doesn’t think about how she spilled her heart out to the king over the Flipwart board, laying her truth bare for him to see. She’s not going to worry about it beyond quickly writing it down in her journal- she has much more important things to do, like fighting bad guys, improving more of the city, all that stuff. Really, there’s no use in worrying about Anne and Sasha all day. Marcy’s still going to worry about them, of course, but she admits it’s not useful. 

The noirette tucks away her journal in her bag and dashes out of her room, cloak sweeping behind her in a very heroic, ranger-y way. Because she is heroic. And a ranger. I’m never going to stop thinking this whole thing is so amazing. She quickly loses momentum and slows to a walk, definitely to take in the beautiful sights of the palace and definitely not because she overexerted herself. Haha. 

As she turns a corner, the girl sees something. It ducks around another corner before she can get even a remotely good look at it, and the girl is quick to dismiss it simply as a trick of the light or perhaps one of the servants who she occasionally sees around the castle. Nothing to worry about. No big deal. 

She strides to the Night Guard’s headquarters, a long-dead whale skeleton. Her brain chatters something about how when whales die and sink to the ocean floor, their bodies can lay there for years without decomposing because no flesh-eating bacteria exist at those depths, so it falls on deep-sea fish to slowly eat the massive, forever-unrotting carcasses. Her brain often goes on tangents like that. 

She shakes herself back into reality at the sound of her troop’s bickering- did she mention that she’s the captain of a team of Night Guard cadets? Because she is, and it’s so cool. Her teammates are some of the most skilled newts in all of Newtopia, and even though she’s something of a replacement for their previous captain, she’s doing her best to fill his shoes. 

Javi, a tall, charismatic newt with well-groomed red hair, stands in the kitchenette, arguing with Kettle, a much shorter amphibian with a tangled mess of hair on her head and a face splattered with freckles. The two are bickering to each other about who had gathered the most intel on the mysterious group the team was trying to track down, one that had been responsible for various book-burnings across the city. 

“Hiya, guys!” Marcy steps into the space, smiling and holding her hands out, palms up. She’s noticed that Javi often pokes fun at Kettle, like he wants her to snap at him. It’s just playful teammate stuff, she’s pretty sure, since one of the other cadets, a hulking yet sensitive newt named Femur, never seems phased by it. The two amphibians glance over at her, blinking. It’s Kettle who talks first. 

“We have crucial information on the arsonists!” the little mint green newt pipes up, bouncing in the air. Javi pushes her aside and clears his throat. 

“Yes. According to our research, it’s a cult called-” 

“-The Order of the Olm!” Kettle interrupts, shoving him back. Femur frowns slightly, glancing up from the scroll he’s looking into. A mildly confused expression rests on his face, and Kettle adds, “Yeah, there wasn’t any information about them in any records, but there’s whispers of them in the streets. You really gotta get out more, big guy.” She affectionately pats the massive newt on the leg, and he shrugs. 

“You guys have olms here?” Marcy blinks. They didn’t mention that in the bureaucratic breakdown of the kingdom. I wonder why. 

Javi coughs again, getting everyone’s attention. All eyes turn to him as he explains: “Olms are a race of gargantuan, subterranean amphibians. According to old legends, they look almost like worms. But that’s just it- those are only legends. No one credible has seen an olm in more than 500 years, and they’re known for being the keepers of ancient and mysterious prophecies.” He pauses, then adds, “Some scholars believe that their lack of eyesight and underground dwellings have ‘given them more attunement’ to the magic of Amphibia and ‘the will of spirits and divine forces.’” He scoffs a little bit, but doesn’t comment further. Marcy furrows her brow. 

“That doesn’t make sense, though,” the girl murmurs, thinking hard. “Why would a cult worshipping olms - who are apparently keepers of ancient knowledge - be trying to destroy historical records? Wouldn’t it make more sense if they were overly protective of it?” 

Femur nods, making a low hum in agreement. Javi shrugs. “I only found what was available. Maybe there’s a piece we’re missing.” He thinks for a second, then slips to Marcy’s side, grinning. “So. Who gathered the best information?” 

The noirette startles. “Well-” 

“Yeah! Rate our hard work, capt’n!” Kettle pumps her fist. 

“Hmm,” the chief ranger thinks for a moment. “Kettle, 10/10, great job. Javi… 9.5/10.” She does her best to hide her giggle as the taller newt’s face turns bright red, and Kettle straight-up laughs. “Sorry, sorry! You were 10/10 too, I promise.” Javi crosses his arms and turns away, but his posture is a little too rigid and Marcy can tell he’s trying not to laugh, too. Femur cracks a smile as well, and they chat for a while longer about more trivial matters while they finish up their brunch. 

“Alright, back to patrolling, team,” Marcy gives a quick salute. “Keep and eye out for any more information you can get on these guys.” Her cadets salute in response and the group splits into pairs- Javi and Femur in one, Marcy and Kettle in the other. 

As they walk, Marcy writes down everything they know so far in her journal, thinking to herself. 

“What’s Javi got against prophecies, anyways?” she asks, turning to her shorter companion. Kettle shrugs. 

“He’s just not the superstitious type, if I had to guess. Maybe you should ask him yourself sometime.” 

Marcy hums, lost in thought for another few moments. “Okay, I know this question is, like, totally unrelated to what I just asked, but- have you seen anything… weird, around, lately? Besides the Order of the Olm, obviously.” 

Kettle blinks up at her, frowning. “What do you mean?” Marcy bites her lip, rubbing her arm. 

“Like… a… shadowy figure, maybe? With horns?” 

The mint green newt looks genuinely concerned, but after a moment responds with: “No, I haven’t seen anything like that. I’ll keep an eye out for it if you want, though. Give word to the rest of the team that we might have a ghost on our hands.” She cracks her knuckles, then pauses. “Either that, or you need a nap, girl. Cults and stuff like that can really get to someone’s head, you deserve a break.” 

Marcy thinks back to last night, how she’d kept herself awake crying until dawn. “That’s… not a bad idea. Thanks, Kettle.” 

“It’s what I’m here for, chief,” the newt replies with an informal salute. “I’ll go and meet up with Femur and… Javi.” She grimaces almost comically. “See if they’ve turned up anything else and tell ‘em the rest of today is gonna be for resting.” 

“Thanks,” Marcy says, and she means it. She doesn’t really feel like sleeping, but maybe some relaxation will do her good, or at least quiet contemplation while she tries to work out the multitude of mysteries on her hands. 

Shadowy figures, a book-burning cult worshiping olms, Sasha and Anne missing… She sighs. There sure is a lot going on, huh. 

Back at the palace, Marcy finds Andrias milling over a thick tomb, one that smells of ancient knowledge and long-buried secrets. The girl makes her presence known by somehow snagging her cape on one of the torches, and the thing spontaneously bursts into flame as the girl lets out a yelp. Andrias turns around to face her, his expression flickering quickly from deep in thought to mildly surprised. 

“Ah, Marcy. Back early, I see.” 

“Yep!” she gives a quick bow, stomping out the flaming fabric of her cloak, then peers curiously at the book Andrias was looking at. It’s fairly big, but quite small in the king’s massive hands, and he’s using his sparkly pink glasses to read the small print. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” 

“Just brushing up on some summer reading,” the towering newt smiles warmly, closing the book and setting it aside. “The legends of Newtopia’s golden days are endlessly fascinating to me.” 

Marcy blinks. “Aw, cool! I haven’t really gotten the chance to poke around in here too thoroughly yet… y’know.” She shrugs, making a face. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you know anything about… hallucinations that people, uh, maybe have when they travel between dimensions?” 

Andrias’ brow furrows, his reaction similar to Kettle’s earlier. “No, I don’t think so. Why? Have you been experiencing them?” 

The chief ranger chews the inside of her cheek. “I dunno… I thought I saw this shadowy figure when I first arrived here, but I haven’t seen it at all since. It’s just… bugging me, I guess.” 

The king of Amphibia looks thoughtful for a moment. “What does this figure look like?” 

Marcy hesitates. “Promise you won’t call me crazy.” 

“I would never,” the monarch swears, placing a hand over his heart, and the x-shaped scar mark on his armor. 

“It looked… kinda like me. But with… horns. And eyes.” 

“You have eyes, Marcy.” 

“No, like, more eyes. And they were orange, and..! And… I’m definitely losing my mind, aren’t I?” She groans, putting a hand to her head. Actually, maybe sleeping isn’t a terrible idea right now. Andrias’ concern grows, and he ushers Marcy out of the library and into the hall. 

“I… think I may have… heard of something similar to this.” 

“So I am going crazy?” Sasha’s going to kill me. “B-but there was so much I wanted t-”

“You’re not going crazy, Mar Mar,” the king gently places a hand on her shoulder, which is a little awkward because his hands are bigger than she is. “This definitely has to do with your interdimensional travel, though. I’ll look into it and get back to you- for now, just get some rest.” 

Marcy inhales and exhales slowly, then nods. “Okay. Thanks, big guy.” 

“Any time,” the blue newt gives a weak grin. 

In the basement of Newtopia castle, a conglomeration of digital minds stir, nine orange eyes opening in the dark. They fix themselves on the figure below them, unfathomably massive compared to even the gargantuan newt king. 

King Andrias kneels before the Core, placing his crown on the floor in a sign of respect. 

“My Lord, Marcy is-” 

We know, the god machine snaps, voices layered over each other as though each is fighting to be heard above the rest. We are no fool, Andrias. The same cannot be said of you. A small metallic appendage flicks him in the side of the head, and the king flinches, grimacing. 

“What do you wish for me to do about it? Surely she can’t know the plan before it’s time-”

Let the Wit run herself in circles. We possess knowledge of the future she does not. Things will fall into place, little king. A figure steps from the shadows, cape swirling behind it as though nearly alive. Darcy smirks up at him with a familiar face and unfamiliar eyes. 

“We will not have a repeat of our first attempt. This time, it will be perfect.” 

Marcy is on Puzzle #33. Or is it Puzzle #57? She checks the number, but it seems to just blur in her vision. Maybe she should take a nap. She’s so tired. 

Yes, that’s a good idea. She’ll take a nap. 

Just for a little while.

Chapter Text

The sun is too hot today. 

At first, the Commander had been relieved for the pleasant weather after the downpour earlier that day that drenched her to the bone and caked the path she was traveling in mud. The sun cheerfully peeking through the clouds was welcome, at least compared to the previously dismal atmosphere.

But now, as the girl rides unsteadily on her stolen mount, its eight spidery legs scurrying along, the sun beats down oppressively on her back and glares right into her eyes whenever she turns to glance at the sky. The humid, hot air is stifling. 

She does her best to ignore the heat as the trip wears on, but she’s still sweating even though in order to navigate she has to remember the cool night she trudged through these woods with every toad from the South Tower behind her. (That was seven months ago and one month in the future. Time travel is weird like that.) The somewhat unpleasant memory (I’m not that person anymore, she reminds herself. I’ve changed for the better. I’ve changed for Anne.) guides her through the woods towards her current destination. She only gets lost once, and even then there’s a sign to point her back in the right direction. She reaches the swampy little backwater town of Wartwood just after high noon, skidding to a stop in front of the sign displaying the town motto. 

Except her mount obviously hasn’t been properly trained on how to stop, because instead it bucks frantically and almost crashes into a nearby tree. The Commander jumps off at the last second, letting out a loud yelp. The spider chitters at her angrily and shoves her in the side with its head before scuttling away to frog-knows-where, and the girl mutters a curse as she rights herself and quickly dusts off her skirt. Those spider-riding lessons sure did her some good. 

“And just when I thought Grime taught me everything-” 

And then she looks up, and her heart skips a beat. 

Standing before her is Anne - Anne, with her adorable, bushy, messy brown hair filled with leaves and covered in dirt and the Commander is so glad to see her that she has half the mind to run up to her friend and kiss her. 

“Sasha?” Anne’s voice, too, is like music to the Commander’s ears. She looks so adorably confused, eyes wide in shock. 

There’s a pause, and then Anne’s whole face lights up, and the Commander gets an overwhelming sense of deja-vu as the Thai girl runs forward to embrace her in a hug. The blonde hugs her friend back, something tugging on her that this isn’t quite right.  

Anne pulls away again, still beaming as bright as the sun in the sky above, but not nearly as annoying. “Oh my gosh, you’re here too? I wasn’t sure, I- I woke up here all alone.” She gasps. “Is Marcy with you? Where have you been? I’ve missed you so much!” 

The Commander smiles back, but she doesn’t get to respond before Sprig hops forward, his expression infinitely confused.  

“Anne,” the bright pink frog boy whispers loudly, leaning towards his adopted sister conspiratorially, “who the frog is that.” 

“Oh!” Anne grins back at him, and her smile is so innocent. “Sprig, meet my bestie from back home, Sasha.” 

Oh.  

It finally clicks. This isn’t the Commander’s Anne, the one who helped her lead the rebellion against Andrias, or told her that forgiveness was difficult but worth it, or spent endless, sleepless nights planning for the storm on the castle. This was Anne from the past, one who’d never even left Wartwood. One who didn’t know the danger she was in. Not yet. 

“Heyyyy,” the blonde manages awkwardly. 

“Sasha, meet Sprig.” Anne motions to the pink frog, who jumps up and down excitedly. 

“Hey, I’m her bestie too!” he offers, putting a hand on his chest and extending the other in greeting. “I guess that makes me your bestie-in-law, haha!” He grins up at her, and the Commander suddenly feels her stomach squirm with guilt. She forces a warm smile, though, and nods, shaking his hand. 

“I guess it does. Hi.” 

“Oh my goodness, those swords are so cool,” Anne comments, motioning to the heron blades strapped to the Commander’s waist. “Where’d you get them?” 

“That’s a funny story, actually-” the Commander finally notices a sling on Anne’s arm and, stars above, how did I not see that sooner? “Anne, what happened to your arm?!” She never mentioned this during the rebellion- did I somehow mess up the timeline bad enough that- no, but I never- 

“O-oh. Well, uh,” Anne’s mouth thins into a line and she awkwardly reaches up to touch her cast before pulling away again. “There were some mean toads here taking everyone’s stuff for taxes, but it turns out the mayor was actually hogging all the money for himself, but they didn’t know that, so I kinda sorta… got in a fight with them to protect the town. And then they left. Actually, like, five minutes ago.” 

The Commander’s heart drops to her feet, and she quickly stops herself from panicking. Anne’s handled plenty worse than this - or, will handle plenty worse than this? Argh, time travel is so confusing - and she looks fine, if a little shaken up. 

“Oh,” the blonde girl says, voice level. “Okay.” 

There’s an awkward pause, and then the Commander clears her throat. “Okay, this might sound like a really weird question, but… have there been any… other Annes, around here?” 

And Anne’s whole expression just falls, like she’s been given a present only to find out it wasn’t supposed to be for her, and she mumbles out a little “oh, you’re not…” and then Sprig jumps in, bouncy and naive as ever. 

“Wait, are you, like, some kind of future-Sasha? How do you know about the Soldier?” 

Relief floods through the Commander, and she lets out a breath she’d been holding for weeks. Anne - her Anne - is alive, and safe, and here. “Can you take me to- wait, what do you mean, ‘Soldier’?” 

Sprig shrugs like it’s obvious. “She’s Anne,” he motions to past-Anne, who doesn’t really respond, “and we call the other Anne the Soldier. Because she’s got a sword and armor and looks tough.” 

“Oh,” the Commander manages. “I’m the Commander. Sorry for not… saying something sooner.” She glances at Anne with a grimace. “Where is… the Soldier?” The name tastes wrong in her mouth, and the thought feels wrong too. Anne isn’t a soldier. She’s a kid caught up in a war, just like everyone else. 

Sprig nods, and motions for the Commander to follow him. “She’s this way. She was pretty badly hurt when she first showed up here, but she’s a lot better now!” 

The Commander turns to follow him, and then pauses. She glances back at Anne, who hasn’t moved. “Hey, are you coming?” 

“Is my- do you know where Sasha and Marcy are?” 

The question catches the Commander off-guard, but she catches herself and nods. She should’ve expected this sort of query, honestly. “They’re… they’re alright. You’ll probably be seeing both of ‘em really soon, don’t worry.” 

Anne doesn’t respond, and the Commander goes to follow Sprig, aware of the Thai girl moving to catch up with her. The brunette doesn’t ask any more questions, and they arrive at the Plantar’s farmhouse with only a few weird looks from the townsfolk. By now, it’s been getting dark, and most of the frogs are starting to shuffle into their homes for the night. 

There’s a light on in the barn, and Sprig turns to head in that direction, so the Commander trails behind him. 

There are voices coming from inside - or, well, just one voice - and the Commander’s heart leaps as she recognizes it. 

“Awww, who’s a good snail? That’s right, Besse, ol’ girl, it’s you! You’re a good snail!” 

“Hiya, Soldier!” Sprig jumps right in, and the Soldier stops cooing to presumably look up at him. The Commander is still a ways behind, and the Thai girl is far enough in the barn that she’s hidden from view. “There’s someone here to see you!” 

“Oh?” 

Sprig leans in the Commander’s direction and motions for her to step inside, and so the blonde does so, butterflies swarming her stomach. 

Silence settles over the barn for a moment as the two take each other in. The Soldier is still wearing her school uniform, and while it has considerably more tears in it than last time the two saw each other, it also looks like it was put through the wash, as there are hardly any stains. Despite this, she looks just as beautiful as ever. 

The Commander can only imagine how she must look, blonde hair matted in clumps on her head, swords haphazardly shoved into their sheaths, maybe even rings under her eyes from the lost nights of sleep at the tower. 

She doesn’t know who starts crying first, but in heartbeats the two are clutching each other, the Soldier openly sobbing while the Commander tightly grips the fabric of her friend’s shirt, tears running down her face. 

“I-I thought - I didn’t know if- I wasn’t sure if you- I thought I was-” the Soldier blubbers on and the Commander listens, and while she’s crying, too, she strokes the other girl’s hair with a gloved hand and tells her things are okay and that she’s here, now, and that means they can find a way back to their time, and I love you “I’m so glad you’re okay, too.” 

Anne stands in the doorway, eyes blank, mouth thinning into a line. Sprig has the same expression on his face that Anne would make at people kissing on TV when they were kids, sticking out his tongue and everything. The Commander notices this and gently calms her lost friend down, assuring her one last time that things will be fine before standing up. She ignores how her legs feel shaky, ignores the way her heartbeat has synchronized with Anne’s the Soldier’s, ignores the way it hurts to pull away from the other girl, and clears her throat. 

“Right. Uh. Sorry. You don’t happen to have a spare room, do you?” 

“I think I’d rather sleep in the barn.”

The Commander has been through this once before, and while she’s been openly welcomed into the Plantar household this time around instead of hiding out in Wartwood in the aftermath of her betrayal, she still feels the stickiness of guilt clinging to her like sweat in the humid Amphibian climate. 

And, well, frankly, the basement is cramped.  

Anne and the Soldier are already sleeping there, and it was small enough already for one person. She does not want to have to lay down there in the dark, cramped space, and there isn’t enough room on the Soldier’s cot for her to lay next to the other girl, either. 

“Well, I s’pose we can set somethin’ up out there,” Hop Pop strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Ya don’t happen to have a sleeping bag on ya, do you?” 

The Commander shakes her head. The only one who would constantly carry around a backpack stuffed with assorted objects was Anne, who was usually prepared for every emergency- from Marcy not having enough room in her own backpack for extra books or running out of drawing supplies to Sasha needing a hairdryer or some blonde hair dye (she made Anne swear not to say anything, and Anne took a Sacred Oath of Secrets) to carrying around a little first aid kit in case someone fell out of a tree or tripped down a flight of stairs or almost poked their eye out playing dart-throwing. Hell, she was fairly certain Anne had a bath bomb (for “spontaneous cleaning emergencies”) in her backpack somewhere at one point, though she wasn’t entirely sure. 

The blonde sinks into herself a little bit at the memory, but forces herself to stand straight. Hop Pop whistles a little disappointedly, and she quickly adds: “I don’t really need one. A blanket or two should be fine, maybe a pillow if you have one to spare.” She omits that she slept in a jail cell for a month before showing up here, catching the worried expression on Anne’s face. 

“We have those things!” Sprig pipes up helpfully, and runs off, presumably to fetch the items. “You can sleep on the couch!” 

As he does so, the Soldier lets out a little wince. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the Commander, who’s at her side in an instant. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Random bodily pains. They happen when you nearly die once or twice.” 

The Commander flinches. Oh. Right. 

“She was pretty badly hurt when she first showed up here, but she’s a lot better now!” The fact that Anne, before they got sent back in time, was literally stabbed in the heart, suddenly and violently occurs to the Commander. 

The girl reaches for the Soldier’s hand. 

“Show me.” 

The words come out a lot harsher and more, well, commanding than intended, and the brunette makes a face. 

“Please,” the Commander adds, softer. 

Under the Soldier’s shirt is a bunch of bandages wrapped around her torso, and the unmistakable red sheen of blood is visible beneath the layers. 

“The doctor in town has been doing his best to help fix her up,” Anne’s sitting on her sleeping bag, eyes turned up at them. “But frogs don’t really understand human anatomy, and the best they’ve really been able to do is stitches and bandages. She’s a lot better than she was, though.” 

The Soldier nods along with what her past self says. “Yeah. I still can’t… really move around a lot, but I’m not actively dying anymore.” Her laugh is a weak chuckle, one that holds no real humor. 

The Commander drags her hands down her face, letting out a sound that’s a mix between a sob and a sigh. 

“I got the blankets!” Sprig announces, skipping back into the room. The Soldier gives her friend a weak smile and, as she turns to leave, the Commander returns it. 

I’ll find out a way to help when I’ve gotten a proper night of sleep, she decides, following Sprig out of the basement. 

“You’re really cool, you know that?” the pink frog chirps as they walk. 

“Huh?” The Commander’s startled from her thoughts by his voice. 

“Well, I mean, first of all, you’re the Soldier’s friend, and the Soldier is Anne, and Anne is awesome,” he says. “Also you’ve got those super sharp swords that I just know Polly is gonna be all over tomorrow. And you just…” He thinks for a second, as if picking out his words. “I dunno. You’re really friendly, I guess!” 

“You really think so, huh?” The Commander smirks at him, ignoring the pit in her stomach. 

“Yeah!” Sprig finishes laying out the blankets on the couch and pats it, beaming. “Are all humans like, super nice?” 

The Commander chokes, but passes it off as a startled laugh. “Oh, no, definitely not.” She shakes her head with a wistfully smiling mask. “Most of us aren’t, actually. You just got lucky with three pretty decent ones, squeaky toy.” She gives him an affectionate pat on the head and sits down on the couch. “Thanks for letting me stay. Must be a lot of mouths to feed.” 

“Eh, we’ll be fine.” Sprig bounces off. “Goodnight, Commander! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” 

“I know, those things are horrifying.” 

It’s hard to fall asleep on the couch, and not because the physical setup is uncomfortable. The Commander’s head swims with waking nightmare fantasies of something happening to the Soldier while she’s asleep, or the feeling of a broken nose under her fist, or Darcy’s haunting laughter, taking a sound she used to find comforting and jabbing it into her chest, twisting it like a knife.  

Eventually sleep does rise up to claim her, but it’s fitful and restless, and doesn’t last nearly long enough before the sun rises again.