Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Night draped itself over the “Big Tops” circus tent until the sun ambled in, looking frazzled.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was murder,” the sun muttered.

The moon, already gathering its things, waved it off.

“No worries. I’ve got leftover ravioli waiting in the fridge. Shift’s all yours.” With that, the moon clocked out.

Daylight spilled across the tent as the troupe shuffled from their rooms toward the main stage.

“Where’s Caine? He’s usually here before us,” Jax asked, ears twitching.

“Probably scheming up another overblown entrance,” Zooble deadpanned.

“Actually—” Caine’s voice boomed from behind them, making everyone jump. He strode forward, beaming. “I was in my quarters brainstorming the next spectacle. My deepest apologies for being…six seconds late. It shall never occur again. Bubble, make a note of that.”

“You got it!” Bubble chirped, fumbling for a pencil, only to pop themself on the sharpened tip.

“So what’s this brainstorm?” Ribbit asked. “Please tell me it’s not another disaster like last show.”

“How was I supposed to know cactuses are sharp?!” Caine protested, throwing up his hands. “Anyway, no—this one’s about the final act.” He snapped his fingers, and a glowing board materialized in the air.

“See, the trick is to keep the audience guessing who closes the show. Sometimes it’s Ragatha’s escape act… Ribbit and Jax’s death-defying plunge…or maybe Kinger’s latest ‘mystical creature’ discovery—”

“This time it’s a tarantula!” Kinger cut in proudly, scratching his head. “Or…it was. Haven’t seen it since I woke up.”

Behind the group, a massive hairy tarantula crept into the shadows, unseen by all.

“But you see, the audience is starting to get bored of you all,” Caine announced, tapping the glowing board. A massive red arrow appeared and crashed straight through the bottom with a crunch. “Case in point: Kaufmo’s last act drew record-low eyeballs.”

Kaufmo winced, scratching his head. “Sorry. I thought the balloon-animal routine would land.”

“Not the best choice for the citizens of Balloonsville,” Zooble muttered.

“And the cactuses didn’t help,” Jax added dryly.

“I DIDN’T KNOW!” Caine shouted at once.

Caine shook it off. “Point is, we need something new. Something fresh. Something unforgettable for the finale.”

“I can do it,” Gangle perked up, a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been working on a new dance routine and—.”

“They need entertainment, not a lullaby,” Jax sneered. “Middle of the show’s your lane, Gangy.”

Gangle’s mask wilted. Zooble cut in sharply, “Okay, don’t talk to her like that. Not like you’re reinventing the wheel, Jax.”

“Oh please,” Jax smirked. “Lifting heavy things for the hundredth time, thrilling.”

Zooble snapped back, “Better than watching you jump off the same rope for the thousandth time!”

Ribbit rubbed the back of their neck. “Guys, can we not? This bickering is giving me a migraine.”

“No way,” Jax barked. “She insults our act, and we’re just supposed to take it? If anyone deserves the final slot, it’s us, we work the hardest!”

“I think we all work hard, Jax,” Queenie said firmly. “Dragging each other down isn’t helping.”

Ragatha nodded in agreement. “Exactly. We all have the talent to close out the show. No need to fight over it.”

Jax folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let Caine decide.”

Caine tapped his chin, then declared, “None of you.”

“What?!” the troupe shouted in unison, everyone except Kinger, who had been staring off into space.

“Jax, that was mean,” Kinger muttered a full minute late, still catching up.

Kaufmo squinted. “Hold on. If it’s not one of us, then who’s the finale?”

Caine’s grin widened. With a snap, a giant glowing finger dropped from the ceiling and swung dramatically toward Pomni, who immediately tried to sink into the shadows, both from her height and her sheer desperation not to be noticed.

“…Me?” Pomni squeaked.

“Of course you!” Caine poofed right beside her, beaming. “Who else am I pointing at? You’re the one performer they haven’t seen yet. You’re unpredictable. Mysterious! And the audience seems to like you already, at least when you’re running around helping everyone else.”

Pomni fumbled for words. “Thanks, but…wouldn’t it make more sense if the others did it? I mean, I just… assist. I don’t perform.”

“Nonsense!” Caine waved her protest away. “Everyone here’s a performer, including YOU! Which is why you’re headlining the show in three days at…” He flourished his hands, conjuring letters of fire: ROTTEN TOMATO VALLEY.

Pomni blinked. “…Rotten Tomato Valley?”

“Yep! Famously harsh crowd. They pelt you with tomatoes if you bore them. Wonderful place, really.”

Pomni’s face twisted in horror. “Why would we even go there?!”

“Because we perform everywhere!” Caine shot back, cheerfully oblivious. He tipped his hat to her. “Now quit whining, come up with something brilliant, and remember, I believe in you, kid!”

With a loud pop, he vanished, leaving Pomni trembling under the weight of every eye in the tent. 

Queenie let out a soft sigh. “I really hope Caine knows what he’s doing, putting this poor girl on the spot like that. Come on, honey.”

“Wait— none of us is doing the final act? Then who is?” Kinger finally blurted, a full beat late.

Queenie just shook her head, taking his hand and guiding him offstage.

Jax snickered as he stretched. “Well, guess Caine finally lost it. Sticking the errand girl in the spotlight? This should be fun.” He strolled off with a smug grin.

“Hey, maybe she’s got something we don’t know about,” Ribbit teased as they followed.

“Doubt it,” Jax shot back, both of them laughing down the hall.

Zooble lingered for a moment, glancing at Pomni’s trembling form. “You’ll do fine. I’m sure you will.”

“Yeah. Best of luck, Pomni,” Gangle added earnestly before the two slipped away.

Ragatha stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on Pomni’s shoulder. “Listen…if you ever need help or advice, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone. Good luck, and…congratulations. I guess.” She offered a shaky smile before retreating to her room.

Silence hung heavy in the tent. Pomni was still frozen, staring blankly, unable to process.

Kaufmo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, c’mon.” Without another word, he scooped her up like a statue and carried her toward his quarters.

In Kaufmo’s room, Pomni lay face-down on his bed, shrieking endlessly into a pillow while kicking her legs like a tantrum-prone child.

KAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH—

Across the room, Kaufmo casually bounced a ball against the wall, catching it each time without missing a beat. “Getting it all out?” he asked, chuckling.

Pomni flipped over dramatically, hair askew, and groaned. “Why me? Out of everyone— why me? I was perfectly fine not being in the spotlight. Now I’m supposed to be…THE spotlight?! Ugh, I should’ve just stayed locked in my room forever.”

Kaufmo caught the ball, twirled it in his hand, and smirked. “You know what I think? I think this is actually a great opportunity for you.”

Pomni shot him a look. “Opportunity? To what, make a complete %$!# of myself?”

“No,” Kaufmo said, tossing the ball again. “Opportunity to figure yourself out. To show what makes you, you. Not just the errand-runner, not just the background filler, you. And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty great. Maybe it’s about time the others see it too.”

Pomni’s face softened, just slightly. “…Thanks Kaufmo. That’s…really nice. But I still don’t even know what I can do. What if I don’t have anything?”

Kaufmo leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Then this is your chance to find out. In my drawer, I have a bunch of unused stand ups, maybe you can do them justice.”

Pomni rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a stack of scribbled notes. She frowned. “Wait…isn’t this, like…plagiarism? Shouldn’t I be writing my own stuff?”

Kaufmo waved her off with a chuckle. “Plagiarism’s only if you steal it. Think of this as a…comedic hand-me-down. Now go on, crack a joke!”

Pomni glanced nervously at the page. “Uh…what do you call a fish with no eyes?” She squinted. “…Tuesday?”

Her smile vanished into a blank stare.

Kaufmo exploded with laughter, nearly choking. “PFFFT— oh, that’s perfect!”

“I…don’t get it.”

“It’s contextual comedy,” Kaufmo explained, wiping tears from his eyes. “Not everyone gets it. Try another!”

Pomni flipped to the next one. “Why did the chicken cross the road? Because…pineapples don’t wear socks?”

Kaufmo toppled right out of his chair, clutching his stomach as he howled with laughter.

Pomni’s face was pure bewilderment. “…What are these jokes?”

“They’re brilliant,” Kaufmo wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “So layered that only true comedic geniuses understand them.”

Pomni sighed, shaking her head. “Thanks, Kaufmo. But maybe I should…ask the others for help instead.”

“No problem,” he said, still giggling on the floor. “But don’t share those jokes. I might need them later.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t,” Pomni muttered, quickly slipping out the door.

Pomni knocked lightly. “Ragatha? It’s me.”

“Come in!” Ragatha’s voice called.

Pomni stepped inside, looking around at the empty room. “…Hello? Ragatha?”

“Yeah, I’m in the box.”

Pomni turned and spotted a massive metal crate bolted down with heavy chains. “Whoa, are you practicing in this box?”

“Nope, not that box.”

Pomni glanced again, and this time noticed a tiny shoebox sitting beside it. With a sudden pop, Ragatha burst out of the smaller box, grinning proudly.

Pomni blinked, then clapped. “Wow…that’s impressive!”

“Thanks! I’m always trying to find ways to make it harder,” Ragatha said, dusting herself off. “So, what brings you here?”

Pomni fiddled with her hands. “I…wanted some advice. I’m supposed to be the final act, and I thought…maybe I could try an escape trick? Like you.”

Ragatha hesitated, scratching the back of her neck. “Mm…I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Escapes can be dangerous if you’re not ready.”

“Then maybe you could teach me?” Pomni asked, rubbing her arms sheepishly.

Ragatha frowned thoughtfully. Pomni’s nervous eyes told her enough, better to give her something than let her walk onstage clueless. “Alright…we’ll start small. Like this closet.”

She gestured to a plain wooden wardrobe in the corner. “Escaping’s all about staying calm and using sleight of hand. I usually keep a bobby pin hidden on me. Mouth’s my favorite spot—nobody checks there.”

Ragatha handed her a pin.

“Ah, okay.” Pomni stuck it awkwardly in her mouth, muffling her words.

“Good.” Ragatha picked up some chains. “Now, I’m going to wrap you up and lock you in. Your job is to break free. If you manage it, we’ll move on to something harder.”

Pomni stiffened as Ragatha began chaining her tightly. “…Harder?”

“Don’t worry,” Ragatha said with a smile as she snapped the final lock shut. “This is the easy part.”

Ragatha gently guided Pomni into the closet and shut the door. “Alright, just pick the locks and undo the chains. Nice and simple.”

“Okay, but…it’s really dark in here. I can’t see anything!” Pomni’s muffled voice called.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Ragatha reassured.

As she stood watch, Bubble suddenly drifted up beside her, holding a tray. “Would you like one of my cookies?”

“Oh, thanks, Bubble,” Ragatha said, taking one and biting into it. “Mmm, wow, that’s actually pretty good! What’s in it?”

“It’s a secret,” Bubble whispered, “but it rhymes with ‘sleep medication.’”

“…What rhymes with sleep medicat—” Ragatha slurred, then promptly collapsed face-first on the floor, out cold.

Bubble blinked. “Oh, wait. Nope, it was sleep medication. My mistake. Sorry!” They floated away.

Inside the closet, Pomni fumbled. “Ragatha? I’m not sure how to grab the bobby pin I put in my—” She gagged mid-sentence, then gasped in panic. “I…I swallowed it! Oh no, I swallowed it! Ragatha! Ragatha, help! Ragathaaaaa!”

Silence.

“…Ragatha?”

Her muffled voice cracked into frantic shrieking as she rattled against the closet door, chains clanging.

An unknown amount of time later…

Ragatha stirred awake, stretching with a long yawn. “Wow… what a weird but reenergizing nap. I’ve got to try those cookies aga— oh %$#! Pomni!”

She bolted upright and rushed to the closet. Her heart froze. Inside, chained up, was Pomni’s skeleton.

“No…no, no, no!” Ragatha’s eyes welled with tears as she collapsed to her knees. “This is my fault…this is all my fault!” She clutched the skeleton to her chest, sobbing. “Pomni, I’m so, so sorry—”

“That’s not actually Pomni.”

Ragatha looked up to see Kaufmo leaning casually in the doorway. “That’s just one of my props. Pomni left, like, an hour ago. I thought it’d be funny to stick that in there.”

Ragatha’s grief snapped into fury. She hurled the skeleton down with a clatter. “How is that funny, Kaufmo?!”

Kaufmo shrugged, utterly unfazed. “Because…it is? Also, you never know when you’ll need a skeleton in chains. That’s just basic prop work.”

Ragatha stared at him, speechless, her right eye twitching. 

Meanwhile, Pomni was in Gangle’s room, attempting a ribbon dance routine. Gangle twirled gracefully, her movements smooth and effortless, while Pomni flailed behind her like a tangled kite.

“You’re doing great, Pomni, just remember to lift your legs,” Gangle encouraged gently.

Pomni huffed, nearly tripping over her own ribbon. “I don’t know, Gangle…it feels like I’m butchering this.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Gangle offered a reassuring smile. “Ribbon dancing isn’t about perfection. It’s about expression. Let the ribbon flow, let it carry your feelings. Now, spin!”

Gangle spun elegantly, ribbon curling like a painting in motion.

Pomni tried to copy and instantly wrapped herself in a cocoon of fabric. With a yelp, she toppled straight into Gangle, knocking her over. The crash was followed by the sharp crack of Gangle’s mask breaking.

Pomni gasped. “Oh no, no, no, I’m so sorry!”

Gangle sat up slowly, holding the pieces of her mask. Her face, now exposed, drooped into a sadder, more vulnerable expression. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Pomni sheepishly rubbed her arms. “Maybe…maybe I’m just not cut out for this. I can’t even spin right. I’m so, so sorry, Gangle.”

“It’s okay,” Gangle said softly, shaking her head as she tried to fit the broken pieces back together. “I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you anything.”

The ribbons lay across the floor between them, tangled and limp, like a visual echo of Pomni’s failed attempt. 

Pomni shuffled out of Gangle’s room, shoulders slumped lower than ever. Every attempt felt like a failure, and now she was more lost than when she started.

In the hallway, she spotted Bubble, happily sticking flyers to the wall, literally licking the backs to paste them on.

Pomni glanced at one. Her stomach dropped.

It was a poster for the big show, her face blown up larger than life under the words “MAIN EVENT — POMNI (??? ACT)”.

Her vision tunneled. The edges of the flyer seemed to press in on her. A twist knotted in her stomach.

And then—

HURKKK!

She doubled over, retching up a violent stream of black static, the noise of it buzzing like a broken TV. It splattered onto the floor, fizzing before dissolving into nothing.

Pomni wiped her mouth, trembling. Bubble, still hanging flyers, looked back cheerfully. “Don’t worry! Stage fright happens to everyone!” 

Then they happily licked another flyer and smacked it onto the wall. Pomni just stared, horrified.

Pomni peeked into Zooble’s room. Inside, Zooble had her larger arms attached, veins of mechanical energy pulsing as she hefted a massive boulder over her head with ease.

Pomni knocked lightly. “Uh, hey, Zooble.”

The boulder crashed to the floor with a thunderous THUD. Zooble turned, surprised. “Pomni? What’s going on?”

“Just…going around looking for an act. Nothing so far feels like my thing,” Pomni admitted, rubbing her arm.

Zooble folded her arms, nodding knowingly. “Yeah. Bet you’re nervous as %$#!. Honestly, I can’t believe Caine dumped this on you out of nowhere.”

“You’re telling me,” Pomni sighed. Her eyes wandered,  then lit up as she spotted a tiny barbell on the floor. She smiled weakly. “Maybe I could try lifting? Like you?”

She crouched down, wrapped both hands around the miniature barbell…and strained. Her face turned red, veins popping. The barbell didn’t move an inch.

Pomni wheezed. “…Is this…glued down?”

Zooble tilted her head. “…That’s literally a toy weight. My spare parts are heavier than that.”

Pomni groaned and flopped against the barbell in defeat.

“Listen, Pomni, I’m sure you’ll find something—”

“That’s easy for everyone else to say!” Pomni blurted out, her voice cracking. “Everyone else has talent, everyone else has…something. And I’m just me! Little Pomni, awkward Pomni, and now I’m gonna get laughed at because I can’t do anything!”

Zooble blinked, caught off guard by the outburst. “Pomni—” she reached out a mechanical arm, her voice softer than usual.

But Pomni shook her head, staring at the floor. “It’s whatever…sorry for bothering you.”

She turned and shuffled out of the room, shoulders hunched, her small footsteps echoing against the cold floor.

Zooble stood frozen for a moment, arm still extended, then let it drop with a heavy sigh. “…%$#! it.”

Pomni sat slumped on the couch in the gathering area, eyes fixed on the oversized clock above the stage entrance. Each tick felt louder, heavier, like it was counting down to her public execution.

Suddenly, a blur of color swooped past, Jax dangling upside down, legs hooked around a bar, holding onto Ribbit’s arms as they swung through the space with circus ease.

“Hey, look, it’s our main star!” Jax called, his grin sharp as ever. “Tell me, did you finally figure out what you’re doing, or should we start digging the grave now?”

Pomni’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “…No.”

“Well, better hurry up!” Jax cackled, swinging higher before. “I heard they’re bringing the worst tomatoes for the worst act.”

The two of them laughed as they swung away again, leaving Pomni clutching her stomach, the taste of static threatening to rise up again.

The ticking clock loomed louder than ever.

Queenie came up behind her and sat down softly. “What’s the matter, dear?” she asked.

Pomni let out a ragged breath. “It’s this stupid show. I’ve tried everything and nothing works. I’m not funny, I can’t escape boxes or dance properly, and I’m not strong. I feel like I don’t do anything. And when I get up there—” she folded into herself, voice trembling, “—they’re going to laugh. They’ll see me for what I am: a total loser.” She buried her face in her lap. “Not that they’d be wrong.”

Queenie put an arm around her small shoulders and squeezed gently. “You’re not a loser, Pomni. You’re scared. There’s a difference. Sounds to me that you hadn’t found your spark yet, and truthfully it won’t come from anyone else but yourself.”

Pomni looked up at her, eyes glistening. “Well then… how do I find it?”

Queenie sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair from Pomni’s face. “I wish I could tell you, dear. Sometimes it comes in a dream, sometimes when you least expect it. And sometimes, it doesn’t show up until your back is against the wall. But I do know this, there’s something special in you. There’s something special in all of us. Just because you can’t do what everyone else does doesn’t mean you have nothing to give. As long as you’re part of this troupe, Pomni, you’re as valuable as any one of us.”

Pomni’s lips trembled into a smile, tears welling. She threw her arms around Queenie, hugging tight. “Thank you.”

Queenie returned the embrace, stroking her back gently. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

“I’m still scared,” Pomni whispered, trembling as she clung to Queenie.

“It’s alright to be scared,” Queenie soothed, stroking her hair. “Just remember, whatever happens, I’ve got your back. And I’m sure the others do too.”

Their quiet moment shattered as Kinger burst past, clinging to the giant tarantula like a rodeo bull. “Honey! Sorry to interrupt, but can you fetch my stun gun from the fort?”

“Oh, goodness, Kinger. The yellow one or the blue one?”

“The yell—!” Before he could finish, the tarantula bucked him straight through the roof with a crash.

Queenie sighed, rising to her feet. “I have to go, Pomni. But remember, only you can find that spark.”

As Queenie ran off after her husband, Pomni sat straighter, a flicker of determination lighting in her eyes.

Pomni paced the empty circus floor, wringing her hands. Everyone else had their acts—strength, dancing, escape artistry, comedy, chaos. But what about her? She squeezed her eyes shut, muttering to herself. If I can’t do what they do…then maybe I have to do something different. Something that’s mine.

Her first attempt was juggling. She found three mismatched objects: an apple, a shoe, and a candlestick.

 “Alright, simple enough,” she said, tossing them into the air. For a glorious two seconds, they stayed in rhythm until the shoe smacked her square in the face and the apple splattered on the ground. The candlestick clattered into the shadows. 

“Ow,” Pomni groaned, rubbing her nose. “Okay… maybe not juggling.”

Next, she tried shadow puppets. With a lantern set behind her, she made her hands dance against the canvas of the tent wall.

 “Behold, the mighty rabbit!” she declared. 

What appeared instead was something resembling a deformed blob with ears. She tried a bird. It looked more like a mutant bat. The final attempt was supposed to be a dog but ended up resembling a… toaster? She let her hands drop. 

“…Wow. Terrifying.”

Not ready to quit, Pomni dragged out a unicycle she’d found in the storage closet. Balancing herself atop it, she wobbled forward, determination blazing.

 “Yes! I think I’ve—!” The unicycle shot out from under her, launching her backward into a stack of crates. The crash echoed like thunder through the tent, followed by a pathetic little squeak from the unicycle rolling away on its own.

Her fourth idea was ventriloquism. She grabbed a sock, drew a quick smiley face on it with a marker, and perched it on her hand.

 “Hello, audience!” she squeaked in a high voice. “My name is Socky and I…uh…” She paused, staring at the lifeless sock. It flopped limply, no witty retort coming to mind. 

“This is stupid,” she muttered, tossing the sock aside.

By now her hair was frazzled, her clothes wrinkled from falling and fumbling. Still, she tried one more thing: balancing on a ball. At first she managed to stand tall, arms outstretched. A smile crept across her face until the ball slipped and sent her tumbling across the ring, landing flat on her back with a groan.

Silence filled the tent. Pomni stared up at the high ceiling, chest rising and falling, her breath shaky. She’d tried everything well, everything she could think of. And still, nothing felt like hers. Nothing felt right.

Pomni lay sprawled across the floor, staring blankly at the circus ceiling. Every attempt had ended in disaster. Her chest tightened as the silence pressed down around her. 

“Maybe Jax was right. Maybe I really don’t have anything. Maybe I’m just…nothing,” Pomni muttered.

Pomni blinked. Slowly, the corners of her mouth tugged upward.

“…Wait.”

Her gaze drifted to the scattered mess she had left behind: the shoe with an apple stain, the mangled balloon from earlier, the toppled crates, the ridiculous sock with its doodled face. A chaotic trail of accidents and mistakes, everywhere she went, she left something behind.

She sat up straighter. Her mind began to race. Her heart gave a little flutter.

“What if…that’s it?” she whispered.

A lightbulb, an actual glowing one, poofed into existence above her head. She gasped, looking up at it in awe.

The tomato-headed crowd roared with impatience, stamping their stubby legs against the bleachers. The whole tent rattled with the sound. Ribbit peeked through the curtain again and winced as another tomato splattered against the stage.

“Yep. Definitely not patient,” they muttered, pulling the curtain shut.

“Start the show already!” a voice bellowed from the audience, followed by another wet splat as a tomato exploded against the backdrop.

Kaufmo sighed, adjusting his balloon kit. “Well…this should be fun.”

“Don’t let them get to you,” Queenie said, her tone calm, though even she glanced toward the curtain with unease. She looked to Pomni’s usual spot, then frowned. “Everyone will do great. Especially you, Pomni—” She paused. “Where is Pomni?”

Jax smirked, leaning against the wall. “Probably bailed. I mean, I would too, if I was about to embarrass myself that badly.”

Before he could gloat further, Zooble’s mechanical arm snapped out and pinched his ear. Jax yelped, twisting against the grip. “URGH! Hey! I was just being honest!”

“Be nice,” Zooble said firmly, tightening her hold.

“URGH! It’s true though— URGH! Okay, okay, please get her off me!” Jax writhed until Zooble finally released him, leaving his ear red and throbbing. He rubbed it furiously, muttering curses under his breath.

Ribbit chuckled, shaking their head. “You really never learn, do you?”

“%$#! off,” Jax grumbled, glaring at them.

The curtain rose to a roar of jeers. The tomato-headed crowd leaned forward in unison, clutching their produce like weapons ready to fire.

First up was Kaufmo. He bounded onto the stage with a grin and a bundle of balloons.

 “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed!” He twisted furiously, producing something that vaguely resembled a dog.

“Boooo!” splattered one voice, and the first tomato whizzed through the air. 

It smacked Kaufmo square in the chest, bursting into red pulp. The audience erupted in laughter as more followed, splattering his balloons into limp rubber scraps. Kaufmo raised his arms weakly. “Tough crowd!”

Backstage, Queenie slipped quietly from the group, her eyes scanning the shadows. “Pomni? Darling, are you here?”

No answer. Only the muffled sound of Kaufmo’s retreat, dripping in tomato juice.

Onstage, Zooble stomped out, flexing her mechanical arms with a metallic clank. She hoisted a massive boulder above her head.

 “Bet you can’t throw a tomato heavier than this!” she barked.

The crowd took that as a challenge. Dozens of tomatoes pelted her from every direction. She held firm for a moment, but one particularly heavy toss struck her square in the eye. Her grip slipped, and the boulder crashed to the ground, shaking the stage. The audience howled with cruel laughter.

Queenie checked behind the curtain stacks. “Pomni? It’s alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide from me.” Still no sign.

Then came Gangle, ribbons flowing gracefully in her hands. She spun, dipped, and leapt with surprising beauty, her mask catching the spotlight until the first tomato hit her square in the face. She stumbled, her ribbon tangling around her leg. Another tomato shattered across her face, cracking her mask further. Gangle crumpled, clutching the pieces as the crowd booed her offstage.

Queenie’s search grew more frantic. She peeked behind a crate, checked beneath a table. “Please, Pomni,” she whispered, “don’t let fear keep you away.”

On the stage, Ragatha tried her hand next, climbing into a chained trunk. She wiggled and twisted, popping the lock with her hidden pin, success! She burst out with a triumphant smile, arms raised.

The crowd responded with a volley of tomatoes, splattering her from head to toe. Ragatha sighed, wiping juice from her eyes as she trudged offstage.

Queenie wandered toward the far end of the backstage hall, her hands clasped tightly in worry. “Where could you be…”

Now came Jax and Ribbit. The duo soared onto the trapeze, swinging high, their timing sharp and flawless. The audience should have gasped in awe but instead, the moment Ribbit caught Jax midair, a tomato smacked Jax in the back. He slipped, flailing, and barely caught the safety rope before tumbling into the net. The audience cheered not for the skill, but for the blunder. Tomatoes rained like a storm until Ribbit dragged a cursing, tomato-covered Jax offstage.

Queenie stopped, breath catching. She thought she saw a flicker of movement at the far end of the corridor. “Pomni?” she called softly.

The last of the performers had fallen. The stage was a battlefield of pulp and vines. The crowd chanted impatiently for the final act. 

“MAIN EVENT! MAIN EVENT!” Tomatoes thudded against the floor in rhythm.

And still, no Pomni.

Kinger trudged back from the stage, dripping with pulp and dragging the limp body of the giant tarantula behind him. Its legs twitched feebly, half-crushed beneath the sheer volume of tomatoes hurled its way. He dropped it with a splat.

 “Well, guess I won’t have to worry about releasing it back into the wild,” he sighed, brushing seeds off his robe. His eyes darted around. “Where is Pomni? Isn’t she up next?”

“I’ve been trying to look for her,” Queenie admitted, her normally regal composure cracking with unease. “But she is nowhere to be seen.”

“Probably for the best,” Jax muttered, still working a squishy tomato skin out of his ear canal. “That crowd’s going to eat her alive. Better to spare herself the humiliation.”

Zooble crossed her arms with a clang of metal, glaring at him. “You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“It’s called honesty,” Jax shot back, flicking the tomato piece to the ground. “She couldn’t even lift a paperweight, and you expect her to wow an arena full of bloodthirsty fruit-heads?”

“Don’t count her out,” Ragatha said firmly, her hands twisted in her lap, betraying her worry. “I don’t think she’d bail on us.”

Caine bounced anxiously near the curtain. The crowd’s chant was deafening now, stomping and booming in unison. Caine checks his watch, which had the giant words: ‘LATE’ on it.

“If Pomni doesn’t show up soon, are you ready to be the stand in Bubble,” Caine asked.

“You know I am,” Bubble reassured, while loading a revolver. 

 “MAIN EVENT! MAIN EVENT!” Tomatoes pelted the stage floor in rhythm, red juice pooling like blood under the spotlight.

Jax smirked, leaning back. “Well, unless Pomni’s discovered how to make herself invisible, it looks like the main event’s been canceled.”

“Not quite.”

Heads snapped toward the curtain as Pomni appeared, her small frame dwarfed by the heavy wooden box she dragged behind her. The others froze, eyes wide with equal measures of relief and bewilderment.

“Pomni!” Queenie gasped, rising to her feet. “Where have you been? The audience is restless—”

“I know.” Pomni straightened, brushing the sweat from her brow. A strange little smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “I was just…” She placed her hands on the box, giving it a dramatic pat. “…discovering my spark.”

The troupe glanced between each other, confused. Gangle tilted her head, ribbons twitching nervously. “What’s in the box?”

Pomni’s smirk widened. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Before anyone could stop her, she tugged the box fully onto the stage. The spotlight caught her, bathing her in harsh white light as the tomato-headed audience jeered, already winding their arms back with more ammunition.

Jax folded his arms, lips curling into a mockery of a smile. “Good luck, Pomni. Don’t break a leg.”

Pomni didn’t flinch at the jab. For the first time since she’d joined this impossible circus, she stood tall, clutching the box as though it contained more than wood and nails like it carried her entire self-worth inside.

The drums rolled. The audience hushed, eager for a disaster.

And Pomni, trembling but unshaken, prepared to show them her talent.

“Hello!” Pomni’s voice cracked through the echoing arena, startling even herself. She raised her hand awkwardly, waving to the sea of tomato-headed onlookers. “I’m… uh… Pomni the Klutz!”

The crowd groaned in unison, unimpressed before she’d even begun. Pomni, swallowing her nerves, perched herself on top of the heavy wooden box she’d dragged onto the stage.

“Before I start,” she announced, fumbling inside her pocket, “I…uh…need a snack.”

She pulled out a banana. The audience stared, dead silent. She peeled it carefully, took a bite, and chewed slowly, deliberate, almost obnoxiously casual.

A tomato flew past her head. Booing erupted.

Behind the curtain, the troupe shifted nervously, unsure if they should interfere. Queenie wrung her hands, whispering, “Oh no, oh no, she’s going to be eaten alive out there.”

Not Jax. He leaned casually against a support beam, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Pomni finished the banana, stood, and tossed the peel to the ground with a mock ceremony. “Alright then,” she muttered under her breath, “showtime.”

She stepped forward onto the peel—

—and her legs went out from under her.

The world spun as Pomni’s body launched upward in an uncontrolled tumble, flipping end over end, her arms and legs flailing like a ragdoll. Gasps ripped through the arena as she soared higher than she had any right to, until—

CRASH!

She hit the stage face-first with a thunderous smack.

Silence.

Pomni groaned, her limbs twitching in a dazed heap. The hush stretched unbearably long…until a low snicker bubbled up from the back row. Then another. And another.

And suddenly, the arena exploded with laughter.

The tomatoes that had once been raised in anger now thudded harmlessly against the floor, forgotten, as the crowd doubled over. The jeering turned to clapping, stomping, cheering at the absurdity of what they had just witnessed.

From backstage, the troupe’s jaws collectively dropped. Even Jax, smug as ever, actually chuckled out loud.

“Would you look at that?” he drawled. “She faceplants better than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Out on stage, Pomni staggered to her feet, dazed but smiling through the pain. For the first time since she’d joined the circus, the laughter wasn’t crushing her. It was lifting her.

The laughter still echoed when Pomni staggered to her feet, wobbling as though she could barely stand. She placed one hand on the wooden box, panting dramatically, and flashed the audience a dazed grin.

“Uh…I meant to do that.”

The crowd roared again, their cheers now tinged with anticipation.

Pomni bent down, flipped the latch on the box, and rummaged inside. She pulled out a stack of juggling pins.

“Alright, alright, let’s try something professional,” she muttered. She tossed one pin in the air, caught it. Tossed a second, still fine. Added a third, and immediately they all flew in different directions. One bonked her on the head, another smacked the floor, the last flew into the curtain and made Kaufmo yelp from backstage.

The audience howled.

Rubbing her head, Pomni laughed nervously and pulled out the next thing: a unicycle. She held it up for the crowd, who cheered at the promise of disaster.

“Oh no, no, no,” Queenie whispered, peeking from backstage with her hands pressed over her mouth.

Pomni climbed onto the unicycle, wobbling like a newborn deer. Somehow, impossibly, she managed to pedal forward, only to trip over her own banana peel again. She toppled forward, legs pinwheeling, the unicycle flying out from under her and into the audience where it harmlessly bounced off a tomato-headed man.

The arena erupted with applause and stomping feet.

Flustered but glowing, Pomni dove back into the box. This time she pulled out a pair of cymbals. “Music!” she declared, before tripping over the banana once again. She fell face-first into the floor, crashing the cymbals together at the exact moment her body hit the floor.

The audience lost their minds. Even Jax had doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing too hard.

Pomni peeked up from the floor, cheeks red, and her hair frazzled. The crowd was on their feet now, chanting her name between fits of laughter.

“POM-NI! POM-NI! POM-NI!”

For the first time since she arrived, the spotlight wasn’t terrifying, it was hers. She gave a bow, instead of throwing tomatoes they threw roses and continued to give a standing ovation.

ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!” The chant thundered through Rotten Tomato Valley like an earthquake.

Pomni, raised a shaky hand. “Oh no, that’s all for me!”

She barely had time to stand before a shadow passed overhead. Her eyes widened. Wait, what—

WHAM!

A piano slammed down right on top of her. The audience exploded into a frenzy of howling laughter and cheers, their tomato faces practically splitting from the sheer joy of watching disaster strike again.

Caine, ever the showman, twirled onto the stage with his cane and top hat. “Ladies and gentlemen, that was Pomni the Klutz!” His voice boomed with grand theatricality. “Give her one last round of applause!”

The crowd obliged, stomping, chanting, clapping, even throwing their tomatoes into the air like fireworks.

When the curtains finally closed, Caine snapped his fingers and conjured up the performance chart. The arrow didn’t just rise, it rocketed upward, smashing through the top of the board in a shower of sparkles. “Our ratings are skyrocketing! And it’s all thanks to Pomni!”

The troupe, who had been bracing for disaster all evening, turned to the tiny jester staggering backstage, her hat bent, her clothes dusted with wood chips, and her face smeared with dirt. Pomni rubbed the back of her head, blinking dazedly, as though she hadn’t quite processed what just happened.

She was met not with ridicule, but with applause. Real, heartfelt applause.

Queenie rushed forward first, wrapping her in a warm, motherly hug. “That was horrific, darling, but I am so proud of you.”

Pomni blinked up at her, stunned. “R-Really? I just… fell on my face. A lot.”

“Exactly,” Kaufmo said with a grin. “And it worked! You found your spark. That was comedy gold!”

Even Zooble cracked a smile. “Yeah…gotta admit, I didn’t see that one coming. But you had the crowd eating out of your hands.”

From the corner, Jax smirked, arms crossed. “Guess the errand girl finally found her thing. Who knew smacking yourself around could be entertaining?”

Ragatha elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t listen to him. You were incredible.”

For the first time since arriving in the circus, Pomni felt the weight in her chest ease. She had done it, she had performed, truly performed, in her own way. And for once, she didn’t feel like just the scared little jester trying to keep up.

She felt like part of the troupe.

“This calls for celebratory meatloaf!” Caine bellowed, twirling his cane so wildly that sparks crackled from the tip. “To the dining area!”

“Oh %$#! yeah, meatloaf!” Jax whooped, pumping his fist as he sprinted after him.

”Now hold on, I’m not letting your fat %$#! eat it all again,” Ribbit shouts, chasing after him.

The others followed in a wave of chatter and laughter, still buzzing from the night’s chaos. Kaufmo replayed her banana-flip moment in exaggerated detail, making Gangle giggle through her cracked mask. Queenie, never letting go of her warm smile, kept patting Pomni’s shoulder like a proud mother.

At the center of it all was Pomni, leading the charge down the hallway toward the dining area, the troupe’s voices swirled around her, filling her ears with praise she never imagined she’d hear.

They loved it. They loved me.

She kept walking, her head held just a little higher. For tonight, at least, she belonged.

Chapter Text

The phone rang in Caine’s office. Bubbles answered cheerfully, “Hello! Caine’s office!”

Their smile faltered, eyes narrowing. “What did I say about calling here? It was a one-time thing, and I’m not doing it again.”

A pause. The grin snapped back in place. “Oh! Princess Loolilah, my mistake. Of course! One moment. Caine! Princess Loolilah wants a word with you!”

Caine appeared in a flash, snatching the receiver. “I’ve been waiting for this call! Thank you, Bubbles, you can go now.”

“Okay!”

Bubbles didn’t move, staring at him.

“That means right now.”

“Okay.” This time, they floated out of the room.

Caine cleared his throat, dropping his voice a register. “Princess Loolilah. We haven’t spoken since high school?”

“Yes, Caine,” she chuckled. “Who would’ve guessed that winning ‘Most Likely to Run a Circus’ would actually set your career path?”

On Caine’s desk, a small framed high school yearbook photo of him sat in view, braces gleaming with the oversized glasses. He caught sight of it and immediately cringed.

“Yeah, well…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s done a lot for me. How’s running a kingdom?”

“Oh, it’s easy,” Loolilah said breezily. “Apparently being royalty is ninety-five percent hiring other people to do the hard work for you.” She laughed. “Which, funnily enough, is why I called. I’m interested in your little circus, and I was wondering if you do stage productions.”

“Well, I mean circus acts are a type of stage production, so I guess so, yeah!”

“Perfect! Because I have this playwright that I made someone else write for me.” Her voice brightened with pride. “It’s based on a dream I had about being rescued and swept away by a Prince made entirely of black licorice. I’m calling it Untitled!”

“Untitled?” Caine repeated.

“Yes, I haven’t figured out the name yet,” she admitted without shame. “But I want your troupe to perform it at the Candy Canyon Kingdom.”

“Of course! We can absolutely do that.”

“Excellent. I can’t wait to see it! I’ll see you in a couple of days. I’ll have one of my people send you the script.”

The line clicked off, leaving Caine staring at the receiver, equal parts excited and horrified.

“Bubble,” Caine exclaimed.

Bubbles drifted back into the office, slowly twirling in midair like a lazy top. Without hesitation, Caine snatched them mid-spin and pulled them close, eyes wide.

“Bubbles, we’ve just been hired to produce a play, written by the Princess herself!”

“Wow!” Bubbles spun around midair, throwing confetti for no reason.

“This is my chance!” Caine clutched his hands together dreamily. “If we put on the most dazzling production and impress the Princess, she could invite me to the Candyland Ball.”

“The Candyland Ball?” Bubbles gasped. “I always wanted to go to that!”

“Well, you can’t, Bubbles.” Caine wagged a finger. “It’s only for the crème de la crème of the Digital World. The most powerful, successful, fabulously important people! Invitations to the event are rare.”

He dramatically pointed to a leaning tower of envelopes in the corner.

“I’ve been sending in applications for years. Years! Every one of those, rejections. But this—” he grinned, eyes sparkling, “this is my chance to prove I belong. So, do you know anything about producing a play?”

Bubbles blinked. “Not a %$!#ing clue.”

Caine groaned, letting them go. “Great. Guess that means I’ll just have to dump this on the others.”

Bubbles brightened. “Ooooh, they’re gonna hate that!”

“Don’t worry, I think they’ll find it fun,” Caine said with a reassuring smile.

Moments later, the entire troupe stood gathered around the stage.

“I hate this,” Ribbit muttered.

“I didn’t even say what the news was yet,” Caine groaned.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Go on.”

Caine clapped his hands together, forcing a grin. “Princess Loolilah wants us to adapt a play she commissioned!”

Ribbit crossed their arms. “Okay, so my pre-fire was correct.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Caine insisted, laughing nervously as he tried to hype them up. No one looked convinced.

“I mean…we’re not really actors,” Pomni pointed out.

“Yeah,” Ragatha added, “I don’t know the first thing about stage plays.”

Zooble scoffed. “And besides, Princess Loolilah isn’t even that great of a person. Did you see her ridiculous tax on vanilla extract? That is not someone who cares for the people.”

“We don’t dive into politics, Zooble,” Caine said firmly, trying to keep control of the room. “We’re here to put on a show and this time, the show happens to be a play. So that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“We don’t have a choice, do we?” Kaufmo asked.

“When do we ever?” Ribbit replied.

With a loud thunk, Bubbles dropped a massive script in front of them. The cover simply read: Untitled.

“Goodness, why is there so much,” Pomni asked.

“A creative mind is not limited to a certain number of pages, Pomni,” Caine replied.

“Does it…not have a name?” Gangle asked.

“‘Untitled’ is the name,” Caine explained flatly. “Creative, right?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” Zooble muttered, flipping open the cover. “Wait. There’s only two characters listed.”

“Perfect!” Caine clapped. “Pick two actors, the rest of you can be the production team. I need to make preparations for my royal meeting with Princess Loolilah. I believe in you!”

With that, he vanished into thin air.

The troupe groaned.

“Well,” Queenie said with a proud tilt, “I’ll have you know I was once a film director. I think I can handle a stage production.”

Kaufmo squinted. “What movies did you make?”

“The fifteen Waffle Falls films,” Queenie said without hesitation.

Ribbit’s jaw dropped. “No way! That was you? I loved parts one through five… but after that it really fell off.”

“I disagree,” Kinger chimed in. “Six was criminally underrated.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Queenie cut in, waving her hand. “I have a clear vision for casting. The script calls for a beautiful princess and a brave knight. Obviously, the perfect choices are…Ragatha and Jax.”

Jax’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Oh— me?” Ragatha stammered, rubbing the back of her neck. “I…don’t know.”

“You’ve got the perfect princess look,” Queenie said confidently. “And Jax? You’re just the right size to play a dashing knight.”

“%$!# no,” Jax snapped. “I’m not doing some cringey stage play with—” He froze when Ragatha looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. His face flushed red. “I’m just not doing it, okay?! Let Ribbit do it.”

“Oh, come on, you heard Queenie,” Ribbit mocked with a grin. “You’re taller than me, you’ve got the whole knight thing going for you. Besides…” Ribbit leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you want to be Ragatha’s Prince Charming?”

Jax’s entire face turned crimson. He glared at Ribbit, breathing through his nose like a bull about to charge.

Ragatha blinked. “Wait, what do they mean by that?”

Jax coughed violently, waving his hands. “They’re just being an %$!#hole.”

“Relatable?” Ribbit teased.

“Shut up!” Jax snapped before storming off, muttering under his breath.

The troupe exchanged looks, Ragatha tilting her head in confusion while Ribbit just sat there grinning.

Jax, the ever-chivalrous knight, charged out of the burning castle with Princess Ragatha draped across his shoulder. Behind them, towers crumbled and flames roared. He sprinted across a collapsing wooden bridge, leaping to safety just as a dragon’s fiery breath scorched the planks to ash.

Landing on solid ground, Jax gently set Ragatha down, brushing soot from his armor. He flashed her a proud, dazzling smile.

“You are safe now, Lady Ragatha.”

“Thank you, Sir Jax,” Ragatha said, gazing up at him with admiration. “I knew a knight as brave and as handsome as you would come to my rescue. Did I mention how very handsome you are?”

Jax let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, please…no need to flatter me.”

“Then perhaps…” Ragatha batted her lashes. “How about a kiss?”

Jax stiffened, armor creaking. “…Well, uh, that would be…an efficient reward.”

He leaned down toward her lips—

In reality, Jax was slowly kissing his pillow, mumbling dreamily, “Oh my, you’re very handsy…”

A sudden knock at the door shattered the fantasy. Jax flinched, tumbled out of bed, and smacked face-first onto the floor. Groaning, he pushed himself up, scowling as he stomped toward the door.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to—” He yanked it open, only to freeze. “…Oh. Hey.”

Ragatha stood there, script in hand, her smile polite but a little shy. “Hey. I know you weren’t too excited about being in the play, but Queenie thought it’d be smart to give you a script… you know, just in case you change your mind.”

She held it out. Jax hesitated, glancing between the script and her. Her faint smile made his chest tighten. He snatched the script, face heating, and muttered, “I’ll…think about it.”

“Good. I hope to see you there.”

“Hope?” he echoed.

“Yeah. I mean…you are my knight, after all.”

His entire face turned crimson. “Y-Yeah, whatever!” He slammed the door shut with a loud thunk, then leaned against it, breathing hard, heart racing.

Outside, Ragatha’s smile faltered. She let out a small sigh. “…Alright then.” She turned to leave, the script still clutched against her chest.

On stage, Queenie was in full director mode, barking orders like a seasoned pro. Gangle was busy painting vibrant backdrops, Zooble hauled sandbags and set pieces with ease, Kinger fiddled with lights and sound, and Kaufmo happily dumped an absurd amount of props onto the stage from his stand-up stash. Pomni trailed close behind Queenie, dutifully acting as her assistant director.

“I gotta say, Queenie, you’re really on it,” Pomni said. “Everyone’s got a job, the set’s coming together…you even managed to trim down the script.”

Queenie nodded, satisfied. “Well, after slogging through five thousand, five hundred pages, I realized only thirty were worth keeping. Sometimes stories are better without the fluff and filler. We’re telling a tale here, not writing fanfiction.”

She was suddenly blinded by a harsh beam of light. “Sweetheart, no. Turn the spotlight down and move it to the right.”

Kinger obediently swung the spotlight down and to the right, blasting Kaufmo in a radiant glow. Kaufmo froze, staring upward like he’d just been chosen. “Oh goodness…is it my time already?”

Queenie pinched her brow. “No, dear. Lower the brightness.”

“Oh!” Kinger fiddled with the switch. The spotlight dimmed.

Kaufmo gasped in horror. “What do you mean I can’t get in? I’ve got a few confessions to make!”

Ribbit and Ragatha stepped out together. Ragatha was transformed—hair pinned neatly into a bun, a flowing pink dress catching the stage light, her face carefully made up.

Pomni and Queenie froze for a second, then squealed like fangirls.

“You look beautiful, Ragatha!” Pomni squeaked.

Ragatha blushed, smoothing her skirt. “Thank you, Pomni. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten this dressed up. Honestly… it feels nice.”

Queenie clasped her hands together. “You look the part perfectly. Wonderful job, Ribbit. Now let’s just hope our knight decides to grace us with his presence—”

“Right here.”

Everyone turned, shocked. Jax sauntered in, hands stuffed in his pockets, smirk plastered across his face.

Queenie lit up. “Jax! Thank goodness. I was worried we’d lost our second lead.”

“Well, you know…” Jax shrugged, cocky as ever. “What’s a play without its star power? You need me—and I am here to deliver.”

“Excellent,” Queenie said firmly. “We’ll start with a few lines, some blocking, and see what chemistry we can build. But first—makeup and costume.”

“Makeup and costume?” Jax scoffed. “No thanks. I’m not letting anyone put that junk on me. This isn’t even the real show.”

Queenie raised a brow. “You’re an actor now, darling. Getting into character means dressing the part. It’s non-negotiable.”

Jax groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fine…but it better not be anything…emasculating.”

Ribbit grinned, patting him on the back. “Don’t worry. I’d never do that to you.”

The mischievous sparkle in Ribbit’s eye said otherwise.

A few minutes later, Queenie clapped her hands. “Alright everyone, gather round, the knight is ready!”

The curtains parted. Jax stepped out…and the room exploded with laughter.

Instead of a rugged warrior’s armor, he wore a gaudy, glitter-drenched princely outfit: a velvet cape lined with fake white fur, a golden crown slightly too big for his head, and a tunic so tight it looked like it had been made for someone two sizes smaller. Rhinestones sparkled down the sleeves, and for some reason, his boots had heels.

Jax’s face was beet red. “This is %$!#ing ridiculous.”

Gangle clapped her hands together. “Oh my gosh, you look adorable!”

“Adorable?! I’m supposed to be a knight, not— not some bedazzled loser!” Jax snapped.

Ribbit nearly fell over laughing. “No, no it’s perfect! A true Prince Charming!”

Ragatha, covered her mouth to hide a giggle. “I…I think it suits you, Jax.”

That only made him blush harder. He tugged at the too-tight collar, glaring at everyone. “This is so %$!#ing humiliating, I can’t ever be seen like this.”

Kaufmo slid in with a prop camera. Click!

“Oh this is so going into the picture book,” he grinned.

Jax groaned, throwing his head back in despair as the troupe kept laughing.

“Alright, that’s enough kekeing, time to get this rehearsal rolling,” Queenie announced, clapping her hands.

Everyone shuffled into place. Ragatha gracefully lowered herself onto the ground, lying back as if in a fairytale slumber. Jax stood over her, script in hand, visibly uncertain.

“Now,” Queenie continued, “in this scene, Jax the Black Licorice Knight is stunned by Ragatha’s beauty as she sleeps in the castle. Ready and…action!”

Jax cleared his throat, glancing down at his lines.

“O’ thou Princess…you look like you taste of…um…gumdrops and extra sweet gummies?” He squinted at the page, face twisting. “…Okay, seriously, who the %$!# wrote this?”

“Cut!” Queenie snapped, pinching the bridge of her nonexistent nose. “Come on, Jax. Commit to it!”

“But it’s corny!” Jax argued. “Nobody talks like this!”

“It’s not supposed to reflect reality,” Queenie shot back. “It’s supposed to sound like that. This is a fictional story, meaning not real.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry Jax you got it,” Pomni encouraged.

Jax shot her a glare, then glanced back down at Ragatha, who was already trying not to laugh at the questionable dialogue. His blush spread fast.

Jax groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, fine.”

“Good,” Queenie clapped her hands. “Ready…and action.”

Jax puffed out his chest in the overblown princely costume, looking down at Ragatha with dead eyes. “O’ thou, you look like you taste of gumdrops and…extra sweet gummies. Oh, how I would love to taste your lips…”

His delivery was flat, robotic, more cashier reading a receipt than a knight professing love.

“Cut! Cut!” Queenie snapped, exasperated.

Jax threw his arms up. “What? What was wrong with that?”

“You sounded like a robot,” Queenie fired back. “You need emotion. Passion. Feeling.”

“Feeling?” Jax scoffed, standing upright. “You want me to pour my soul into this nonsense? You’re asking way too much.”

“Jax,” Queenie said with a warning tone, “come on.”

Jax dragged a hand down his face, groaning loud enough for half the stage to hear. “Fine, fine. Feelings. I’ll give you feelings.”

“Good,” Queenie said, folding her arms like a strict teacher. “Now again. Action!”

Jax straightened his posture, puffing out his chest in the ridiculous princely costume. He lowered himself dramatically to one knee beside Ragatha, his voice booming with fake passion.

“O’ thou princess, thou art sweeter than a thousand gumdrops sprinkled with rainbow glitter! Oh, how my heart weeps for your gummy lips!”

He clutched at his chest and flopped backward, as if overcome by love.

There was a beat of silence. Then Kaufmo let out a wheezy snort. “What is this, a romance or a diabetic’s last words?”

Gangle cracked, hiding her giggles at Kaufmo’s joke behind her hand.

Queenie smacked her clipboard against her palm. “Better, Jax. Still terrible but better.”

Jax sat up, glaring. “I swear you’re doing this just to humiliate me.”

“Wrong,” Queenie corrected sharply. “I’m doing this because I believe in you. Now one more time, this time, actually mean it.”

“Mean it?” Jax’s voice squeaked incredulously. “I’d rather choke on an actual black licorice rope.”

“I would like to see that too,” Zooble calls out.

Queenie groaned,“Alright, fine, onto the next scene. Let’s see if we can salvage something.”

Ragatha stood tall, smoothing her dress and slipping into her role with ease. When she spoke, her voice carried, gentle and filled with longing. “Sir Knight, I have waited countless nights for you to return. The stars themselves could not compare to your radiance.”

The group actually hushed, Ragatha sounded convincing.

Jax, meanwhile, stared at his script, monotone as ever. “Uh, yeah…I was busy. Slaying…uh…dragons and stuff. Real tiring. But, uh, I’m here now, so yay.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Ragatha blinked, but quickly recovered, throwing herself back into character with an impassioned sigh. “Then let me gaze upon you one last time before the dawn steals you away.”

Jax scratched the back of his head, mumbling, “Yeah, sure, gaze away. Knock yourself out.”

A snort escaped Ribbit, as they shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, “Oh brother, this guy stanks!” 

That broke the tension, the others burst out laughing while Jax’s face turned red under his ridiculous frilly collar.

Queenie groaned, rubbing her temples. “Alright, let’s move on. Big action sequence now, Jax versus the dragon!”

Kaufmo proudly rolled out his “masterpiece”: a giant, wobbly dragon puppet made from patched-up cardboard, spray paint, and way too much glitter. Two strings dangled awkwardly from its mouth, meant to simulate fire.

Jax groaned, dragging his toy sword along the floor. “This is humiliating.”

“Action!” Queenie called.

Ragatha clasped her hands dramatically, fully committing. “Oh, brave Knight, beware! The terrible dragon approaches!”

Jax squared up, swinging his sword lazily. “Yeah, yeah, perish foul beast, yadda yadda…”

The dragon lurched forward, except Kaufmo tripped over the wheel rig, sending the towering cardboard beast tipping sideways.

Before Jax could react, the entire prop collapsed right on top of him, burying him in painted cardboard wings and glittery streamers.

A muffled shout came from underneath. “I— ugh! I can’t— this thing weighs a ton!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you!” Ragatha called in character, dramatically trying to tug the “beast” off him.

Zooble folded their arms, smirking. “Wow, what a gallant knight. Needs rescuing from papier-mâché.”

Pomni had both hands over her mouth, “Is he ok?”

Finally, Jax burst out of the mess, covered in glitter and bits of cardboard stuck to his princely outfit. His hair was standing on end, his face red with rage and mostly embarrassment.

The room once again erupted in laughter, with Ribbit being one of the loudest in the room.

Queenie clapped her hands together, exhaling. “Alright…one last scene before we wrap. The kiss. Don’t argue, don’t fight me on it, just do it.”

Immediately, Jax’s ears went red. “Wh– what? The script actually says we have to kiss?”

“Of course it does,” Ragatha replied softly, smiling though clearly a little nervous herself. “It’s the ending.”

“Ugh, fine…” Jax muttered, gripping his script so tightly the pages wrinkled. But deep inside, his heart was hammering in his chest. Finally, this stupid play has one good part…

Queenie gestured dramatically. “Scene: the dragon is slain, the princess rescued, and now comes the reward. Action!”

Ragatha stepped forward gracefully, still in character. “Sir Jax, you’ve saved me from certain doom…now, all I wish is a kiss from my noble knight.”

Jax swallowed hard, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips. “Y-yeah, uh…sure thing, princess.” He leaned in, trying to look casual but secretly thrilled, his face blazing red.

And then—

BLAM! 

Kinger swung the spotlight around too far, blasting Jax right in the eyes.

“GAH!” Jax yelped, stumbling blindly forward. Instead of a kiss, he tripped over his own boot and toppled straight into Ragatha, the two crashing to the floor in a heap.

The room exploded with laughter. Ribbit fell off a chair howling. Zooble slapped their knee, wheezing. Even Pomni squeaked out a snort she tried to cover with her hands.

On the ground, Ragatha blinked up at Jax, who was sprawled on top of her, his face only inches from hers. His expression was somewhere between mortified and ecstatic.

“Uh—” Jax scrambled up, brushing glitter off his outfit. His face burned. “Are you— %$!#— stop laughing!”

The troupe’s giggles only grew louder, echoing off the stage walls until Jax snapped.

“Each and every one of you is being a pain in my %$!# when all I’m trying to do is help with this idiotic play! You should be thanking me instead of laughing!”

“I mean…” Gangle raised a shaky hand. “…don’t you spend most of your time making fun of us?”

“…Yeah, but that’s different!”

“Different how?” Zooble challenged, crossing their arms.

Jax opened his mouth, stammered, then clenched his jaw. “I don’t— You know I don’t— You know what? Whatever! I don’t need to explain myself to any of you! I’m done!”

“Jax, wait—” Ragatha reached out gently, her hand brushing his sleeve.

Without thinking, Jax slapped it away. The sound was small, but it cut through the room like a whip. Ragatha flinched, eyes wide, and pulled her hand back to her chest.

The color drained from Jax’s face. For a split second, guilt flickered there. Then he tore the princely cape from his shoulders, tossed it to the floor, and bolted toward the exit.

The troupe sat in stunned silence, all eyes shifting to Ragatha. She kept staring at her hand, her smile long gone, her warmth cracked just enough for everyone to see.

Jax slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, sliding down until he hit the floor. His hands clutched at his hair as the adrenaline bled out, leaving only shame.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, voice cracking. “You’re an IDIOT.”

Tears welled despite his attempts to choke them back. He pressed his palms against his eyes, took a sharp inhale, then exhaled long and shaky. For a moment, he just sat there in the quiet. Then— 

knock knock.

He froze.

“Go away…” he rasped.

A beat of silence. Then a softer voice, “It’s me. Ragatha.”

Jax’s eyes widened. He scrambled up, wiping his face on his sleeve, fumbling for the mirror on his desk. The streaks of mascara betrayed him. He scrubbed at them furiously until the redness in his eyes was the only thing left.

Satisfied enough, he hesitated at the door, then cracked it open.

“Hey,” he said, aiming for casual, but his voice came out rough.

Ragatha stood there, script still in her arms, her smile gentle but uncertain. “Hi. …Can I come in?”

“Uh…sure,” Jax says, letting Ragatha in.

She walked in without hesitation, glancing around before perching on the edge of his bed. She patted the space beside her, her eyes soft. Jax shuffled over and dropped down “reluctantly,” though the quickness of his steps betrayed him.

“I’m sorry about what happened today,” Ragatha began, her tone calm, careful. “I know this play has already been tough for you, and…with things going wrong the way they did—” she sighed, shaking her head. “I get why you walked out.”

Jax sat stiffly, staring at the floor. “I deserved it. I’ve spent so much time being a jerk, this is just karma coming back at me.”

Ragatha tilted her head, studying him. “If it’s any consolation,” she said gently, “I don’t think you’re that much of a jerk.”

His head shot up, surprised.

“I mean, yeah, you have your moments,” she added with a tiny laugh, “but I can tell you care. About the circus. About us. Otherwise you wouldn’t have even tried today.”

For a moment, the fight drained out of him. He exhaled, long and heavy. “Doesn’t matter what I was trying to do. I can’t act. I’m not good at it, and I’m definitely not going to become good before the show. I should’ve just stayed out of it.”

“But you didn’t,” Ragatha said, her smile returning, warm and reassuring. “You showed up. You tried. And maybe the stage isn’t where you thrive. Maybe what you need is…a different setting.”

Jax squinted. “What are you talking about?”

“We don’t have to rehearse out there,” she explained, lifting her script. “We can do it here. Or in my room. No one watching. Just you and me.”

“…Alone?” Jax asked, trying to mask the blush creeping across his face.

“Alone,” Ragatha confirmed, her smile bright but calm.

“I… I think that would be nice,” Jax admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Just…don’t tell anyone, alright?”

Ragatha’s lips curved into a grin. She mimed zipping her mouth shut, twisted the imaginary key, and tossed it away with a flick of her hand. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For the first time that night, Jax cracked a small laugh. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away so she wouldn’t see the blush creeping up. “Alright then. Guess…we’ll give it a shot.”

The next few evenings blurred into a quiet routine. Ragatha would knock softly on Jax’s door, script tucked under her arm, and the two of them would rehearse in the privacy of his room, away from the eyes and snickers of the troupe.

At first, Jax stumbled over every word, his delivery flat and lifeless. “Princess, your beauty is like, uh… gumdrops,” he muttered once, wincing as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Ragatha only laughed, the sound light and encouraging rather than cruel. “Better,” she told him, “but try it again like you actually believe it.”

Jax groaned, but tried again.

Ragatha had patience where he had none. She showed him how to project, how to carry himself, even how to hold his arms so he didn’t look like he was bracing for a fistfight. When she demonstrated a line, there was an ease in her movements, a natural grace that made Jax freeze, cheeks burning, as if he were truly seeing her for the first time. When he tried to mimic her, he often wound up tripping over a chair leg or dropping his script, which only made her laugh harder.

One night, Ragatha stepped closer, gently adjusting his posture. “Relax your shoulders. You’re not storming into battle, you’re confessing your heart.” 

Her hands lingered for a second longer than they had to, and Jax swallowed hard, suddenly more aware of how close she was than of the lines he was supposed to be learning.

Still, little by little, the stiffness began to melt away. His words carried more weight, his movements more confidence. And though he’d never admit it aloud, Jax realized he was beginning to look forward to these rehearsals not just for the practice, but for the time alone with her.

After days of private rehearsals, and even a few moments where the rest of the cast had noticed how much sharper Jax had become, there was only one scene left to conquer. With the show in 30 minutes, they had to get through it. The kissing scene.

Ragatha flipped to the page with a faint, resigned smile. “Well,” she said, , “I guess this has to happen sooner rather than later. I know you don’t want to kiss me, but we’re just going to have to get through it.”

If only she knew how far that was from the truth. Jax had been anticipating this moment from the second they’d started rehearsing alone.

“It’s whatever. I’m willing to do it…for the sake of the show, of course.” He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual, though the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“You sure?” Ragatha asked, tilting her head with a playful glint. “It’s a pretty long kiss. With tongue.”

Jax’s eyes widened, pupils practically doubling. “T–Tongue?”

Ragatha burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. Can you imagine?”

“Imagining it isn’t exactly helping,” Jax muttered under his breath.

“Hm?” She leaned in, curious.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Let’s just…get to the scene. We don’t have much time.”

They stood in the middle of Jax’s room, scripts abandoned on the desk, the air heavier than either of them wanted to admit. Ragatha squared her shoulders, shifting into character with that easy grace of hers. Jax tried to match her, his posture much more stiff.

“Alright,” Ragatha said softly, her voice carrying the words of the play. “Sir Licorice, you’ve saved me from certain doom…now, all I wish is a kiss from my noble knight.”

Jax swallowed, heart hammering against his ribs. He forced his lines out, careful not to stumble, though his throat felt dry. “Of course, my princess,” he replied, almost too quiet.

Ragatha stepped closer, closing the small space between them. Jax didn’t retreat. He held his ground, pulse quickening. Her hand brushed his arm, light as silk, sending a jolt through him he tried not to show.

The silence stretched. They leaned in, inch by inch, the script forgotten. Jax could feel the warmth of her presence, could almost taste the kiss he’d secretly been waiting for—

The door crashed open.

“JAAAAX!” Ribbit croaked, hopping in with a messy armful of props.

Startled, Ragatha let out a small yelp, stumbling back. Her heel caught the edge of the rug and she tripped, collapsing awkwardly with a fabric-tearing rip! Jax’s eyes went wide as he dropped to his knees beside her.

“Rags!—” He reached out, steadying her. Her ankle joint had twisted, fabric and stitching strained, a thin seam split where the thread had given way.

Ragatha winced but managed a pained laugh. “Well… guess that’s one way to avoid a kiss.”

Jax shot a glare at Ribbit, his ears flat, teeth clenched. “Do you mind?”

Ribbit blinked innocently, tilting their head. “Bad timing?”

“Yes, bad timing!” Jax snapped, gesturing wildly at Ragatha. “Look at her ankle!”

Ragatha winced, lifting her leg slightly to show the loose threads around her joint. “I can sew myself up, but not well, not with the time we have before the show. If I go out there like this…” She sighed, the fight slipping out of her shoulders. “I might be done.”

Panic struck Jax like ice water down his spine. His chest tightened. “No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening right now—”

“Oh %$!#,” Ribbit muttered, eyes darting between them. “What should we do then?”

“I don’t know!” Jax barked, his hands clawing through his hair. “I don’t %$!#ing know! I don’t know if anyone else knows the script other than Ragatha and…” He stopped mid-sentence, his ears twitching, the realization dawning on him.

His eyes widened. “And…me.”

Ribbit froze, his throat ballooning as they croaked in disbelief. “Oh, Jax. Don’t tell me you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say.”

Jax slumped back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose. With a long, defeated exhale, he muttered, “I’m going to have to.”

A grin tugged at Ribbit’s froggy mouth. “You think the dress will fit you?”

Jax groaned, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. “…We can make it work, can’t we?”

Ribbit puffed their throat with a laugh. “Oh, we’ll make it work.”

Backstage, the atmosphere buzzed like static before a storm. Pomni darted around with a clipboard clutched to her chest, eyes wide as she double-checked every set piece. The painted cardboard castle was propped up, the fake dragon lay stretched out across the floor like a rug, and the cannon Kinger had insisted on polishing gleamed ominously in the corner.

“Alright, everybody, places in five!” Pomni squeaked, her voice cracking under the strain. “Props, check. Light, check. Curtains, check. Actors…” She flipped through her notes, glancing up at the small team assembled. “…Where are the actors?”

Queenie looks around, “Ragatha, Jax! It’s not like Ragatha to be late like this.”

The room fell into silence.

Then the curtains at the side of the stage parted, and in strode Jax.

But not just Jax.

He was wearing both costumes, his Black Licorice Knight costume fused together with Ragatha’s flowing princess gown. The result was a half-suit, half-dress monstrosity, with one boot and one slipper, one pauldron and one puffy sleeve, a tiara perched crookedly above his flushed face. The seams were jagged and lopsided, clearly stitched in a rush, but somehow holding together.

“I…have arrived,” Jax announced with a dramatic bow, his skirt puffing out awkwardly.

The troupe stared.

“What— what in the %$!# is that?” Queenie exclaimed, “Where is Ragatha?!”

Jax adjusts his tiara. “Ragatha can’t perform, so congratulations, you’re now looking at your knight and your princess. Two for the price of one. You’re welcome.”

“Slow down! Can’t perform? What happened to her?!” Queenie blurted, panic flaring in her voice.

Ragatha hobbled in from the wings, leaning heavily on a pair of crutches, one of her doll feet missing entirely. She still managed a brave smile. “Had a bit of an incident,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, everyone. But… I think Jax can do it. He knows all my lines.”

Queenie’s face twisted with a dozen emotions, anger, worry, disbelief, but no single one could find its way out. Instead, she spun on her heel without a word and walked away, Kinger trailing behind her to calm her down.

Zooble broke the silence first, arms crossed. “Y’know… I didn’t think you’d actually put on the dress. You’re really committing, huh?”

Jax adjusted the crooked tiara on his head again, grimacing. “Look, I know I can be… a bit of a jerk—”

“A bit?” Zooble deadpanned.

“Not the time!” Jax snapped, then exhaled and dropped his shoulders. “…But yeah. I can be a jerk. Just— just know, whatever else, I’ll do what I have to for the circus. For this troupe. Even if that means… putting on a dress.”

“Well, that’s great to hear,” Pomni said softly, a genuine smile on her face. “I just hope this works.”

“I mean, Jax does make a good looking princess,” Gangle offered.

“Don’t say that,” Jax muttered, turning away, his ears pinking.

Kaufmo piped up with a grin, “Hey, Gangle’s right! This could be the most progressive play in the Digital World if he pulls it off.”

Jax groaned, tugging at the frilly half of his costume. “Yeah, yeah… let’s just hope it’s not the most embarrassing.”

Caine and Princess Loolilau sat in the velvet box seats, the perfect view of the stage below. Loolilau lifted a pair of golden binoculars, studying the scenery with delight. Meanwhile, Caine discreetly pulled out a small bottle of breath spray and gave his mouth a quick spritz then accidentally misted his eyes too.

“YEEOW!” he yelped, his eyes watered like fountains.

“Are you alright?” Loolilau lowered her binoculars, concerned.

“Yep! Perfectly fine!” Caine forced a grin, trying not to look like his eyeballs were melting. “Just…really excited for the show.”

“Me too. The stage design is lovely! Your troupe has such wonderful creativity.”

“Yeah, well, they sure know how to…put things together,” Caine chuckled weakly, still dabbing at his burning eyes.

Just then, Bubble cheerfully bounced into the box, balancing a tray of three sparkling glasses of apple cider. “Here you go!” they sang.

“Oh, thank you,” Loolilau said warmly, taking one.

Caine squinted. “…Why are there three glasses?”

“One is for me, silly! I’m watching the play too!” Bubbles giggled.

Caine opened his mouth, then groaned. “Yeah, but this box was meant for—”

“Oh, of course you can stay,” Loolilau interrupted graciously. “There’s plenty of room.”

“Really? Thank you!” Bubbles beamed, plopping down in the third seat.

Caine slumped back with a sigh, muttering under his breath, “This can’t possibly get any worse…”

Queenie stepped onto the stage, collected now, her voice steady as she addressed the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s presentation of ‘Untitled’, written by the honorable Princess Loolilau, and directed by yours truly, Queenie.”

From the box seats, Loolilau leaned toward Caine and whispered behind her fan, “She shouldn’t have said that part.”

Queenie continued, “Due to an unfortunate injury, the role of Princess Candy Cane will not be performed by our usual actress. Instead, in a daring creative decision, the parts of both the Black Licorice Knight and the Princess will be portrayed by…Jax!”

A ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd.

“Bold casting choice,” Bubbles cooed, sipping their cider like a theatre critic.

“Jax?!” Caine nearly leapt out of his chair. “Oh no, oh no, this is going to be a disaster!”

“On the contrary,” Loolilau said with an approving nod. “Making the knight and princess one actor, it’s quite daring. Very progressive.”

Caine froze, then forced a laugh that came out more like a squeak. “Y-yes! Progressive, exactly! Couldn’t agree more. I just, uh…” He tugged at his collar, sweating. “I just hope Jax knows what he’s doing.”

The curtain rose.

There he was, Jax, standing center stage in a costume stitched half-prince, half-princess. The left side of his body bore shining knight’s armor, cape flowing dramatically. The right side shimmered in satin pink, a sparkling tiara perched crookedly on his head. He struck a heroic pose, then twirled, well, half-twirled so both halves got their moment.

The audience went silent. Then a few scattered chuckles. Then full-on laughter.

Caine groaned and buried his face in his hands. Bubbles spin wildly. “He looks fabulous!”

“Ahem!” Jax cleared his throat and switched to his “knight” side, voice deep and proud.

“Fear not, my Princess! I, the Black Licorice Knight, shall rescue you from this dreadful fate!”

He pivoted on one foot, switching to the “princess” side, now speaking in a high falsetto.

“Oh, brave Knight! However, will I repay you?”

Another pivot. Knight-voice again.

“Your love is all I require, sweet Princess!”

The audience roared.

The set shifted, painted castle walls wheeling into place. As the Princess, he clutched his hands to his chest. “Oh, noble Knight…how I long for the day you rescue me, so that I may confess the truth of my heart—”

Then he spun around, dropped into a lower stance, and barked in his knightly voice: “Fear not, fair maiden! I would slay a thousand beasts for the honor of your smile!”

The audience chuckled.

Jax ran to the left, striking a dainty pose as the Princess again. “Such gallantry! But what if fate conspires to keep us apart?”

He bolted to the right, puffing out his chest. “Then I shall defy fate itself!”

Back and forth he went, dashing between sides of the stage, flipping his cape one way and then the other. Each switch became faster, more desperate. The Princess clutched her heart, nearly tripping over the gown. The Knight slammed his sword into the ground with dramatic force.

Finally, Jax staggered back to center stage, panting, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He raised one hand to the heavens as the Princess and wheezed, “Oh…my love…”

Then, dropping his voice an octave, he croaked out as the Knight, “I… love you… too…”

And collapsed flat on the stage.

The next scene, a papier-mâché dragon lumbering across the stage with squeaky hinges and obvious strings pulling its wings. The crowd gasped politely.

Then Jax charged out, sword raised high. “Unhand her, vile beast!”

He lunged at the dragon, but his blade jabbed straight through one of the flimsy paper wings, tearing it in half. The dragon wobbled dangerously on its rigging, before swinging down and wrapping its shredded wings around Jax like a burrito.

“Hey— get off me, you freak!” Jax struggled, thrashing against paper claws and wings until he completely disappeared inside the dragon’s collapsing body. The audience started laughing, thinking it was all part of the act.

After a beat, Jax’s head popped out, his crown askew. He froze, then instantly flipped into his “princess” voice, fluttering his lashes as he let the dangling claws cradle him.

“Oh, mercy! Won’t some brave knight save poor little me?” he cried, dramatically swooning in the dragon’s grip.

Finally, in the “romantic kiss” scene, “Sir Licorice, you’ve saved me from certain doom now, all I wish is a kiss from my noble knight,” Jax says in his princess voice.

“Of course, my princess,” he replied, now as the Knight.

Jax leans toward thin air as the Knight, then snaps around to pucker up as the Princess, only for his tiara to fall into his face. He then turns around and acts like they are both kissing as the curtains fall.

The audience sat in stunned silence for a heartbeat then the theatre erupted! Applause swelled in waves, whistles and cheers echoing off the rafters. Even the Princess was on her feet, clapping daintily with a wide smile.

Caine’s face morphed from sheer horror to unrestrained delight, “Brava! Brava!” he shouted, clapping harder than anyone else.

Jax emerged from the curtain, sweeping into a dramatic bow. The crowd ate it up.

Backstage, the troupe greeted him with a line of claps and laughter. Queenie gave him a firm pat on the back. “You know, you had me sweating back here, but it turns out you’re a natural.”

Jax smirked, brushing imaginary dust off his half-dress. “Well, what can I say? When you’ve got it, you’ve got it.” His cocky tone faltered as his eyes caught Ragatha’s. For once, his grin softened. “But seriously…I should thank Ragatha. I was being…difficult. She helped me out anyway. I joke around a lot, but I do care. About you guys. Even if you annoy me.”

Pomni’s face lit with relief. “That’s really nice to hear, Jax.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” He shook his head as if snapping himself out of sincerity. He tugged at his frilly dress seams. “Ribbit, get this junk off me already.”

“Of course, Princess—” Ribbit started, only to yelp when Jax jabbed two fingers into their eyes, “GYAH! I was JOKING!” 

As the theatre emptied, Caine lingered near the stage, hands clasped behind his back as he tried his best to look regal while chatting with the Princess. “I’m so glad you enjoyed the production, Your Highness. I was thinking perhaps there might be…a reward? An invitation to the Candyland Ball, maybe?”

The Princess’ smile never faltered. “Oh, I’m afraid I already gave away my last invite.”

Caine’s monocle nearly popped off. “What?! When?! To Who??”

She gestured delicately toward the corner. “To Bubble, during the show.”

“Bubble?!”

“Yes! They’re absolutely charming, and so funny. I think they’ll make a delightful addition to the guest list. Anyway, thank you for the show.” She waved politely before her guards escorted her out.

A stunned silence hung in the air. Then, drifting into view as if they’d been there the whole time, Bubble hovered at Caine’s shoulder with a wide grin. “Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll make sure to send you pictures.”

“…And make sure you bring me back those crab cakes.”

“Deal!” Bubble beamed.

Later that night, Jax lounged in his room when a soft knock tapped at the door.

“It’s Ragatha.”

“Door’s open,” he called.

She stepped in, steady on a freshly stitched foot, and made her way over. Jax straightened a little where he sat on his bed, watching as she eased down onto the edge beside him. Her smile was gentle, tired but genuine.

“I just wanted to tell you, you did great tonight,” she said. “And I really appreciate what you said, backstage. It meant a lot.”

“Thanks…” Jax muttered, his eyes slipping away from Ragatha’s.

“You’re a good friend,” Ragatha said warmly, giving his thigh a small, reassuring pat. “Don’t think otherwise.”

The simple touch, the word friend, hit him harder than he expected. His face warmed, but he kept his gaze half-hidden, stealing only a side glance as she rose and made her way toward the door.

“Wait, Rags…” Jax called after her.

She paused, turning back, her smile patient, waiting for whatever he needed to say. But the words he wanted to say caught in his throat, heavy and stubborn.

“I— I think you’re a good friend too,” he finally managed.

Ragatha’s smile deepened. “Thanks.”

With that, she slipped out, the door closing softly behind her.

Jax sat there in the quiet, still buzzing from the night’s triumph, yet hollow all the same. For all the applause and cheers, for all the laughs he’d wrung from the crowd.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d walked away from the play without the one thing he wanted most.