Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As the last bit of sunlight faded from the sky, the lanky man skulked in the shadows of the mostly deserted back alley parking lot. With his sharp nose and jutting cheekbones, he was all harsh angles and bony joints, with the exception of his eyes. He stared up at the night sky, his eyes soft and yearning.

Chapter Text

“Hey there Buttercup!” said a saccharine male voice, waking Marianne suddenly from her wine induced stupor. Without even opening her eyes, she lobbed the mostly empty bottle in her hand at the source of the voice, vehemently wishing her weapon was spiked and made of metal. Or that her ex-fiancé was in his natural form and the bottle would squish him like the bug he was.

“OUT!” She yelled, sending a lightening bolt of pain through her hungover brain. The bottle made contact with something and shattered, then that damaged something started making electronic sizzling sounds and smelling like hell.

She opened her eyes despite the lances of pain. Her plasma screen TV was flickering with unusual colors beneath a spiderweb of cracks, and beneath it her DVD player and DVR were fizzing and shorting out from the leftover wine that had been undeservedly dumped on them.

“Shit…” She muttered under her breath. She’d just destroyed her entertainment center because whatever TV show was playing had a character that sounded enough like Roland to wake her up. “Dammit… Okay, human thing number forty-four. No more drinking yourself to sleep in front of the TV. Got it.”

Sitting up slowly, Marianne moaned at her headache and ran her long fingers through her messy bird’s nest of a head of hair. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, both at the hangover and the state of her hair. After slowly getting up and stretching she went over to the wall socket where the now ruined electronics were plugged in, and kicked the plugs free from the wall.

“Don’t want to burn this place down… I guess,” she muttered to herself as she glanced at the clock. It was almost eight in the morning, she would need to rush to get to class on time. Her day was off to a lovely start. “Fuck.”

She downed some pain meds with a highly caffeinated soda, and stuffed her breakfast of pop-tarts into her backpack as she stomped angrily to her room to change and clean herself up enough to blend in. After a speedy shower and digging through drawers for clean clothes, she was decent. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror for a moment to check that her simple outfit of burgundy patterned leggings, gold tank top, and fitted black leather jacket would pass as a human ensemble.

“Good enough. I can do my face in the van,” she grumbled as she grabbed the makeup kit and pulled on her boots over her leggings, just in time to hear a cheerful honk from the driveway.

She snatched her bag and ran out of the medium sized cottage, through the garden and to the driveway. Sunny knew better than to come to the door in the mornings to get her, and was waiting patiently in his bright yellow restored Volkswagen van, beating out the tempo of a song on the steering wheel.

Marianne never got quite used to seeing Sunny in his glamor, she’d known him since she was a little girl and he had befriended her sister Dawn. He still looked strange without his ladybug wing hat. Instead he was dressed in a wrinkled collared shirt, a fitted brown and purple vest, and completely decked out in hipster bracelets and necklaces.

“Hey Marianne!” He said as she hopped in the passenger seat of the van and slammed the door.

“Drive,” she commanded grumpily as she flicked down the visor so she could use the mirror to apply her makeup.

“Hoohoo! You are in a bad mood today,” Sunny said as she backed down the gravel driveway and onto the small private road that led to the cottage, and the Fairy Kingdom beyond that.

“Understatement,” Marianne muttered with sharp bitterness in her tone, but she bit her lip in guilt. It wasn’t Sunny’s fault she was having a disagreeable morning. “But thanks for the ride.”

“No problem!” Sunny said, no matter how grouchy she was, he’d never hold it against her long. “You sleep okay?”

“Ugh, I wish,” Marianne groaned, as she popped open her makeup case and tried to keep a steady hand as she applied dark purple eye-shadow and black eyeliner. “Had some trouble with the television this morning, wasn’t the best way to wake up.”

Sunny snorted a laugh and glanced at his cranky passenger, “Dang you’re really dedicated to that punk rocker chick look aren’t ya?”

Marianne smirked as she stubbornly applied her dark plum lip-gloss. She rubbed her lips together then popped them annoyingly loud. “Yes. You’re really dedicated to that hipster musician look aren’t ya.”

Sunny lifted a finger in the air to argue back, but then he pointed at Marianne and said, “I see your point.”

After a few minutes of driving and casually chatting, they arrived at the border where the nature preserve owned by the Fairy Kingdom’s royal family ended and the city began. After she finished primping Marianne tore into her Poptarts and downed them as quickly as possible. After eating, and giving the pain meds time to kick in, Marianne was feeling pretty close to normal.

Well, normal for my glamored body. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being flightless, she thought as she crumpled up the metallic Poptart wrapper and threw it away in a plastic bag hanging off her armrest, I should probably apologize to Sunny for being rude.

As they pulled up to the drop off zone in front of the architecture building she ruffled Sunny’s shock of dark hair and said, “Thanks again for the ride man. And I’m sorry for being a pill. You know I’m not a morning person.”

“No problem Marianne!” Sunny said with a wide grin, he was always intolerably happy. “Want me to pick you up after classes?”

Marianne groaned as she shrugged on her backpack. “I’ll try to find my own way home. But I’ll call you if I need a ride. ‘Kay?”

Sunny nodded but held up a short finger, “Alright, but I’m working tonight. So-”

“You’re not available for late night taxi-ing. Got it. Byeeeee!” She interrupted as she shut the van door behind her and hurried into the building for her classes.

Chapter Text

Everything was cool and quiet except for the beautiful and eerie sounds of nighttime. The smell of moss, dew, and freshly crushed leaves enveloped the morning in a natural calm. That was until someone opened the thick black drapes with snappish sadism, flooding the room with all the morning sun’s glory.

“OW!” Bog roared as his eyes flew open and he flipped over the back of the floral patterned couch to escape the cursed sunlight. “MOTHER!”

Griselda stood between her son and the sun, glamored to look like a rather frumpy older human woman. Her wiry hair badly dyed red and held back from her face with a headband. She smirked at Bog before saying, “Well that’s what you get for sleeping on the couch instead of in the wonderful bedroom I paid for when I bought this house.”

Bog groaned, his morning voice catching and hitching in a way that if it wasn’t for the burning anger in his eyes, would have made him sound congested rather than angry. “Did you have to do that Mother? I was out all night making the rounds.”

“You’re out all night every night ‘making the rounds’,” Griselda said mimicking her son’s low and grumbly voice while making air quotations with her fingers. “I swear you think that every goblin in this city needs their king to tuck them in and read them a bedtime story every night. Take a night off! Go on a date! It won’t kill ya!”

Bog stood up, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the knots in his back. Admittedly the loveseat in his mother’s living room was hardly the most comfortable place for a man of his height and age to be sleeping.

I’m not exactly a youngling anymore , Bog thought as he attempted to work out all the pinching aches and pains in his joints. For a moment he wistfully remembered his soft bed of moss and mulch in the rafters of the attic. But he’d have to dissolve his human glamor to use it, and he didn’t have the time for that every day.

He wouldn’t turn his nose up at a human bed like the one in his loft above his shop, but he typically ended his night at his mother’s and he didn’t really care for the bedroom she had set aside for him. It faced the sunny side of the house so it was constantly too warm and cheerfully bright all day.

Unfortunately a good night’s sleep was a luxury he could rarely afford.

“A night off could kill me Mother. You know it’s important I check on everything,” Bog muttered as he looked around for his bag and shoes. He didn’t have time to change, it’d have to wait until he got back to his shop.

“Well yeah, but it’s not like it’s something you couldn’t delegate a little. That’s what we did in your father’s time. He had messengers bring reports from all over the Forest. He didn’t try to zip through the whole thing every night! His poor wings would’ve fallen off!”

“This isn’t his time anymore, and you know that Mother,” Bog replied, his voice low but not quite an angry growl. His blue eyes seemed more resigned than anything else.

Griselda ran her hand through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp with her long acrylic nails, and frowned in concern at her boy. “Son, I just want to make sure you aren’t working yourself into an early grave. Like-”

“Yeah I know,” Bog said softly so none of the other goblins in the house could hear. He shouldered his bag that Thang had stashed under the armchair and slouched as he smiled softly at his mother. “I know…  Tonight I’ll try to get a bit more rest.”

“That’s all I ask,” Griselda said as she smiled a wide toothy smile.

Bog raised a skeptical eyebrow at his mother, “No it’s not. But this time I’ll actually try to listen.”

Griselda rolled her eyes and said, “Fine. That’s all I ask. That you try to take care of yourself. We all understand how hard you’re working, and we’re so proud of you for it.”

“Yeah!” a dozen or so tiny voices cheered out from various hidden corners and crannies in the living room.

Bog distinctly recognized Thang yelling from somewhere, “Hear hear!”

Stuff muttered from deep in her hanging plant appartment, “Now if he could try harder getting customers to buy things then maybe we’ll have a shot.”

“I heard that Stuff,” Bog growled with a toothy snarl at his subordinate’s abode.

“Sorry BK!” Stuff said, “Good luck at work sire!”

Bog raised a disapproving eyebrow at her as he reached for the doorknob.

“Ah!” Griselda said raising a hand and grabbing a paper sack from the kitchen counter. “Don’t forget your lunch! I’ll see you at the shop later.”

“Thanks Mum,” Bog said with a quick goodbye wave as he left the house and skulked down the porch steps. He tried not to step too heavily, there were quite a few Dark Fae trying to get to sleep under the house and he didn’t want to disturb them.

His quite care proved pointless when Griselda yanked open the door and yelled after him, “And try talking to some girls! It’d do ya good!”

Ignoring his mother’s busy-bodiness completely, Bog strode over the cracked concrete sidewalks toward the bus stop, his long legs travelling quickly. He glanced at his watch, he barely had enough time to run a couple errands before he needed to open the store. Rakeing a rough, calloused hand through his hair and down his prickly, unshaven cheek, he remembered that he hadn’t properly bathed in days. Bog barely managed to contain his cranky grumble as he approached the bus stop, where three humans already stood or sat, so it just reverberated in his chest unheard.

The bus ride was annoying as usual, but people usually found excuses not to sit or stand near Bog. His glare was a good human deterrent for all but the most crowded public transit vehicles. He got off in the Downtown area, he needed to stop by the library again.

Outside the library an old man, barely a pile of rags, sat begging passersby for money. Bog instantly recognized him as an ancient Dark Fae, probably a troll. Not many of them still existed.

“Greetings Elder,” Bog whispered respectfully to the troll as he unzipped his bag, “I don’t have much to give, but have this meal. Goblin made. It’s safe for you.”

The man looked up at Bog with deep black eyes, like obsidian in the dark, and whispered his reply in the old tongue.

“Thank you, Bog King…”

Bog tenderly patted the troll’s shoulder and said, “If you need a place to sleep or any aid whatsoever, ask the mushrooms. They can tell you where to find my sanctuaries or send word to my goblins to send you help.”

“Why? I am not of your forest, Bog King. You’re under no bond to help me,” the troll said, his voice was deep like the rumbling of distant thunder.

Shaking his head, Bog patted the troll’s shoulder again before standing straight and saying gruffly, “Take my aid or leave it. Matters not to me. But I offer help to any Dark Fae that needs it.”

The troll smiled sadly and muttered, “And what of the Light Fae?”

His sharp features turned to stone and Bog growled, “Light Fae can go fuck themselves.”

Then he stalked into the public library, leaving the troll to decide what to do with the knowledge that he might have an ally in the inhospitable world of the humans.

Bog was immediately greeted by a small elderly woman once he entered the small local library. She was one of the softest, floweriest people he’d ever known, short of a Light Fae. No more than five feet tall, a fluffy white cloud for hair, and pastel sweaters made her the most precious of old ladies on the planet. However she felt passionately about her books and her patrons, and he was sure she’d take up arms if anyone threatened her vaults of knowledge. Bog both feared and looked forward to that day.

“Oh Bog dear! I’m glad you came in today,” the octogenarian said as she smiled up at him.

Bog winced and gritted his teeth together as he replied, “Hello Mrs. Helston.”

The old girl had been ridiculously fond of him since he first showed up at the library years previously trying to learn more about the human world. Despite the fact he was a king and the only person that got to call him “dear” was his mother, he tried to be kind to the librarian as repayment for her help in navigating the maze of information she guarded.

“We received some more of those exotic plant books you’re always devouring,” she said as she waved him to follow her to the front desk. “Just came in yesterday, haven’t even shelved them yet.”

“Wonderful,” Bog said sincerely. He opened the flap of his leather satchel bag and pulled out a number of books and slid them into the book return before following Mrs. Helston. “I’m also looking for something about motorcycles as well.”

“Motorcycles?” Mrs. Helston said skeptically. “A good boy like you shouldn’t be bothering with those infernal things.”

Bog just shook his head in disbelief at her naiveté, he was the evil king of the Dark Forest and she always thought he was a good boy, and said, “Well, I’m tired of riding the bus and I can’t afford another car besides my mother’s. So I want to look into motorcycles. Just to see if it’s my… thing.”

Mrs. Helston looked skeptically at him through her large glasses that made her look like a fluffy white owl. Then she pulled out a few books from under the counter and handed them to him, “I suppose that’s a decent reason. But no gangs, alright?”

Bog tilted his head in capitulation to her request, “Of course not.”

After a curt nod, Mrs. Helston pointed toward where he could find what he was looking for, “The books on automobiles of various kinds are over there, should be in the 796’s. I hate to say it but you might find more on the web for that topic.”

“You know I’ll only use the internet as a last resort,” Bog said with a smirk before he thanked her and then went on his way to peruse the stacks.

If there was one thing he admired about mankind it was their infinite desire to record things. There were more books in the world on more topics than he would ever be able to read in his lifetime. His Dark Forest subjects had never been the best and writing things down, there had been only a small archive that outlined major events of his Kingdom, as well as a few important bits of lore, but there were no authors among the Dark Fae and all crafts and skills were taught to the younglings by their elders. His people entertained themselves through oral storytelling, which certainly had it’s place. But Bog found he often enjoyed being able to be alone with a book, either to absorb its knowledge or to occupy himself with the troubles of imaginary people like himself.

You are not imaginary , he scolded himself in his thoughts, The humans might not know or believe you exist, but that doesn’t mean you’re not real.

Chapter Text

Marianne heard his voice before she even stepped into the classroom and wished she had the wine bottle she’d destroyed a few hours previously. She briefly considered sneaking away and calling her professor to tell him she wasn’t feeling well, but that was her cowardice talking. She’d be damned if she left without someone learning a lesson. He was laughing and joking with her classmates, and that was enough for her to justify throwing him out a window.

She opened the door and there in the center of her peers, Roland was smiling with his stupidly perfect teeth and running a gloved hand through his stupidly perfect golden hair.

Roland wasn’t originally from The Fairy Kingdom —or at least not her Fairy Kingdom— but had earned his citizenship there after charming the Fairy Council including Marianne’s father, the King. Before that, Roland had been living around humans and knew just what to say to have everyone in the room in love with him. While Marianne was still working on getting her classmates phone numbers for project collaborations.

“Buttercup!” He said with a grin when he saw Marianne standing in the doorway. “Naughty thing, you’re late to your class!”

She was on fire and her fury could set off the smoke alarms in the aging architecture building. How dare he stand there in a flawless suit, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers and a bundle of colorful aluminum heart-shaped balloons. Like she could be bribed into taking him back. Blood rose to her face, heat pooling in her cheeks and limbs. Her body using her anger as a cue to prepare for a fight.

He was grinning, and she recognized that face. It was his, “ Come on Marianne, you wouldn’t reject me in front of these people would you?” face.

Oh yes I would , she thought as her burning rage turned to molten lead in her chest. And I’ll punch you in front of all these people too if I have to.

His over the top displays to try to win her back were no surprise when she visited the Fairy Palace. It wasn’t an unusual thing for fairies to plan elaborate courtship displays. But typically an uninterested party could just fly off and ignore the singing, dancing, and public embarrassment. But that he would come and do it to her in the Human City, while she was flightless and incapable of leaving was a new low. He was forcing her to answer him.

“Roland… Get out,” Marianne growled, her hands instinctively clenched into fists.

“But I brought you these presents! Come on Marianne,” Roland said as he sauntered up to her. She could feel all the eyes on her, most of the women in the room were about to swoon, and the men were watching Roland with a mixture of jealousy and approval. Then he took a deep breath and Marianne knew what was coming.

“Whoah-oh-oh! Here I am,” he started to sing. His accented voice wasn’t unpleasant, and to any weaker woman his romantic crooning may have worked, it certainly seemed to melt Marianne’s female classmates. “On my knees again. I’d do anything just to make it right. Say you’ll understand. Oh, I know you can. Come on Marianne.”

Ignoring his hollow musical pleas for forgiveness, Marianne approached him and took the flowers and balloons from his clasped hands. Everyone in the class cooed and cheered but quickly drifted into confused silence when she marched away from the incredibly attractive man singing to her, and toward the open window. Pulling the window open farther, Marianne coaxed the balloons out the window and let them go. The bright patches of color floated away and Marianne wished she could go with them. She made eye contact with her ex-fiancé, smirking at his surprised and nervous expression as she unceremoniously tossed the bouquet out the window, raining flowers down on any students passing below.

All her peers and the professor watched the spectacle, aghast that sarcastic-but-nice-enough Marianne was capable of such callous behavior. Marianne felt some satisfaction as she locked her burning, amber eyes on Roland she walked toward him, every step threatening violence.

Roland gulped, his large green eyes darting from his ex to the others in the room, “Now Marianne-”

“Roland,” Marianne said, her voice was even but positively bled with sharp anger. “If you thought that I’d come running back, then you don’t know me. ‘Cause you're dead wrong .”

“Come on Buttercup-”

“If you ever bother me on campus again. I’ll shank you with a pen” Marianne said as she continued walking toward him with the promise that if he didn’t move out of her way she was going to shank him sooner rather than later. “If you’re lucky.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of an over-reaction Babycakes?” Roland said as she stepped backward toward the door and away from the furious punk rocker chick with murder in her eyes.

“I don’t care. I’m here to study, not to be constantly pestered by your sorry ass. Get the hell out of here,” by that point she’d walked him through the door which she slammed in his face.

Then she turned her fury on her shocked class and professor. The Cheating-Pig-Son-Of-A- would have required the professor’s permission and classmates’ approval to attempt what he’d tried. And even if it meant she’d get kicked out of school, they would learn the depth of their error.

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“Then I told the prof in front of the whole class, that it was incredibly inappropriate that he would allow Roland to disrupt the class and that I would be taking it up with the Dean of Students if he ever let it happen again,” Marianne said with a self-satisfied grin. “Stupid old geezer tried to bluster and tell me that he just thought that it would have been a sweet surprise. Thought he was doing me a favor.”

“Uh oh,” Dawn muttered, her mouth full of melty chocolate —which was also smeared all over her face, hands and dress— as she sat curled up in a dollhouse armchair that Marianne kept on her bedroom windowsill for her sister’s visits.

“Yeah,” Marianne said as she rolled her eyes at the idiocy of her teacher. Even though Dawn was only paying half attention to her story that was something. None of the other Fairy Kingdom denizens would let her get a word in about Roland without insisting she give him a chance. A second chance he in no way deserved. “I told them that Roland is a stalker, and if I could get a restraining order against him, I would. Then I sat down and asked when the class was going to start already. From the shade of red on the prof’s face, I think I’m lucky I didn’t get kicked out.”

“Stalker? Restraining order?” Dawn asked as she finished her chocolate and went over to the shot glass of water that served as a sink for her to wash off the candy that had gotten all over her.

“Human terms,” Marianne said as she wrapped her arms around herself to keep her body from breaking apart. “It’s someone who is obsessed enough with another person to follow them around and spy on them. Ambushing them at embarrassing and inappropriate times. And a restraining order is basically a decree that says the stalker has to stay away from you or they could get arrested.”

Dawn washed off her hands and face and frowned down at her ruined dress. “Ah, I see. Gah! I’m a total mess!”

With a quiet chuckle, Marianne unfolded herself and hopped off her bed. “Well that’s what you get for eating a whole M&M. Here, I’ve got a spare around here somewhere.”

Marianne was still wearing her socks, so she faux-ice-skated across the smooth wood floors of her open loft toward her desk on the far side of the room. After Marianne volunteered to live in the cottage she spent the first few months renovating the upstairs to be more to her liking. What had once been a quaint hallway with several little bedrooms was now a singular large loft, with exposed attic rafters and columns or the occasional odd stand alone wall to maintain the structural integrity of the house. She had rather enjoyed taking a sledgehammer to the walls, and considered it quite therapeutic. And working with contractors to renovate was what made up her mind that she would go into architecture and landscape design.

Her bed was tucked away in a corner, and the rest of the space was a strange combination of a studio and dojo. The wood floor had cushioning under it to make it less painful when jumping and rolling around as she practiced fighting. Several punching bags hung from the ceiling and one wall was covered floor to ceiling in a large mirror. By the bay windows in the opposite corner as her bed was her drafting table and stool, a computer desk, work benches with half finished projects, and blueprints haphazardly stapled to the walls like posters.

After a little digging through the doll-like clothing in the drawer where she kept her fairy-sized things, she found an old dress from before she started picking out her own clothes. It was silver and white, similar to what Dawn was wearing, pretty standard affair for a fairy princess.

“Here you go Dawny,” Marianne said as she tossed the dress onto the windowsill. “You can get the sprites to clean that dress when you get back. And you can keep that dress, it’s not really my thing anymore.”

“They won’t be happy about that,” Dawn grumbled. Then she looked up at her sister, her pleading blue eyes like a summer sky begging for soothing rain clouds, and said, “They miss you by the way. We all do. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the palace?”

Marianne cocked an eyebrow at her literally little sister and said with a distracting smile, “If you were living my life, would you go back?” She knew the answer to that question and hoped it’d be enough to keep Dawn from bringing it up again.

“OH MY GOODNESS! NO!” Dawn squealed as she stripped off her dress, and started putting on Marianne’s old one. “I’m so jealous! You’re talking to so many new people! Meeting so many boys! Human boys too! That must be so cool! Human boys aren’t as cute as fairy boys, but they’re so much more mysterious and interesting!”

“Don’t let Dad hear you talk like that,” Marianne laughed at her sister’s chattering. “He’s already having difficulty justifying letting you out with Sunny on the weekends.”

Dawn pulled the dress over her head, leaving her yellow locks even more mused than normal. Then she waved dismissively at Marianne and said, “While that’s fun, Sunny never even lets me near boys so Dad has nothing to worry about.”

Once she finished dressing Dawn flopped into the dollhouse chair and heaved a wildly disgruntled sigh, “UGH! I just wish you guys would stop worrying and hovering!”

“Big sister prerogative,” Marianne said as she swiped her backpack from her bed and upended it’s contents onto the floor. “Now, are you going to help me with these interior designs or not?”

“Ooo!” Dawn squealed as she fluttered down from her chair and landed on the floor next to the scraps of fabric and paint swatches that were piled unceremoniously on the floor. Kneeling on the floor as well, Marianne pulled a half finished model of a house from under her bed, it was scaled perfectly so Dawn could walk around inside and get a good feel for the architecture of the building.

“I gotta say, this is pretty fun for homework,” Marianne said with a grin. “Though it might be cheating that I can have it inspected by someone at a similar scale.”

“Just means you’re going to have the best one in the class,” Dawn said with a grin as she alighted in the living room of the model and started looking around “I’m really glad you asked me to help!”

“Well you’ve got a better handle on this decor thing than I do,” Marianne said, “I’m more a big picture gal. Speaking of, I included some subtle amenities for Fae cohabitation. Tell me if you find any indications of them. I need them to be invisible to humans you know.”

Dawn turned and saluted in mock seriousness at her sister before going off to explore the model house. Marianne chuckled and started putting together paint swatches and fabric samples she thought went well together, though she wasn’t sure Dawn would approve of how much black and purple were in the options.

Chapter Text

The day at the shop had been a slow one, but sure enough a customer came in ten minutes before closing time, and wanted to chitchat. After finally closing the store, Bog didn’t have time for a moody stroll as he made his rounds. So he ran.

Running wasn’t exactly something he’d done much of in his natural form when he was younger. His wings were a far better means of quick transportation and rarely left him winded. But when he started needing to use a glamor to help his father, he quickly learned that he despised running.

The harsh jolt of the pavement through his shins. The sheer amount of energy it took to move that fast in a human form, even with his tall and long-legged stature exhausted him quickly. However, there weren’t many buses after Bog closed the shop everyday, and if he didn’t want to be out all night and face another morning of his mother’s nagging, he’d have to grit his teeth and keep going.

After leaving the busier parts of the city, Bog slowed from a sprint to a jog, and then to a fast walk. His lungs heaving in exertion from the task of sprinting several city blocks. He didn’t hesitate before walking into a small stand of old trees, knotted and covered in vines and mushrooms, that huddled by the roaring highway overpass. When the Dark Forest had been split the inhabitants had taken to calling their little home The Rumbling Grove. A strangely affectionate name for their tiny and vulnerable dwelling which almost constantly shook from the semi-trucks barrelling along at eighty-plus miles per hour beside them. .

Bog cricked his neck and found the stump at the back of the stand of trees where he wouldn’t be disturbed by the random passersby on the sidewalk. He sat down, slouching over his knees and trying to catch his breath.

After running his long, calloused fingers through his dark hair in an attempt to make himself look somewhat dignified, he whispered to the nighttime sounds, “Alright, I’m here. You all can come out.”

In a blink of an eye, goblins, bugs, and other Dark Fae scampered out from their hidden homes and hovels. Trap doors under the leaves opened up and they all stared up at Bog King in relief.

“Good to see you sire!” a little beaky goblin named Watzit piped up.

“And how is everyone doing here,” Bog inquired of his tiny subjects. “Anything to report?”

Watzit shook his head and in a high reedy voice that always indicated he was lying, “No. Nope. Nothing to report.”

A gravelly growl fell through Bog’s throat like a landslide. “I do not have time for convenient lies today Watzit. Something’s happened?”

Watzit’ beady eyes darted to one of the Boulder Goblins. “Tell him Brutus.”

Boulder Goblins were larger than most of their kin. Round creatures with weathered, pebbly skin covered in short moss and lichen. This one was named Brutus and while not the smartest creature, he had surprisingly keen sense of observation. He rarely understood what he witnessed, but he knew how to pass along anything important.

Brutus shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as he clasped his hands in front of his large belly. “Well… There were men in those orange and yellow vests here again. Construction guys.”

Bog’s heart fell out of his chest and he wasn’t sure it was worth trying to pick up the pieces and keep them inside. Again.

He’d dared to hope that after their last visit the humans had ruled out the stand of trees, one of the last remaining parts of the Dark Forest, as a good building site.

Bog tried not to let his tired frustration show as he continued to question the goblins. They needed to think nothing bothered him. “You occasionally work nights on the City Maintenance Crews don’t you? What have you learned there?”

Brutus shrugged and said, “It sounded like they wanted to put something here.”

“A utility monitoring station,” Watzit chirped, “They seem pretty set on it.”

Bog dragged a hand over his face, coming to terms with their inevitable need to relocate the inhabitants of The Grove before the humans started construction.

Once his hand slid from his stubbly cheeks, his blue fire eyes flashed over his citizens and he said, “That means it’s time to move everyone here to one of the sanctuaries.”

Bog wanted to punch through a tree rather than listen to the shocked and scared murmurings of The Grove denizens at that news. But there was nothing else he could do, moving them before construction started was the only way to save their lives.

He stood and towered over his subjects, even the largest of whom could stand comfortably in the palm of Bog’s hand, and said, “I know this is hard, but if you want to live you don’t have a choice.”

I’m sorry , Bog thought, I don’t know what else to do.

“I need to leave and finish my rounds, but I’ll return tomorrow with the van. Everyone pack what you need, review the evacuation plans, and decide where you’re going. I leave it up to you individually. There’s still some room at my mother’s house, the greenhouse, and at the park. Obviously the park is the best option but we only have room for about a dozen more Dark Fae there for now, so decide among yourself who’ll live there. I suggest the very young and very old.”

There was silence among the goblins, they all knew the magnitude of what was happening as many of them had been relocated before. Then like someone flipped a switch they all started rushing about, preparing for their exodus the next day. As Bog walked carefully out of the trees he heard one goblin say to another, “Think sire is going to be alright?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” the other replied.

He couldn’t see the two worried Dark Fae, but he didn’t really want to confront them with hollow assurances that he didn’t find the loss of The Rumbling Grove painful. Instead he set out for his other territories at a sprint. Hopefully the construction would pass and leave some of it alone, and then maybe his people could return, but it was unlikely.

Fortunately the rest of his subjects had nothing that important to report. By the time he finished conversing with the mushrooms under the porch, the night was in the still hours. He stood on the porch, staring at the sky. Orange tinted black sky, and only the brightest stars twinkling down at him. The waxing moonlight shimmered off the excessive glass and metal of the city. It was so bright.

He ducked inside the house, looking forward to the chance to rest before another long day.

“Mother?” He said as he entered the small bungalow. His muscles were going to melt from his bones he was so exhausted.

“She’s out,” Stuff said from her seat at the kitchen table in front of a laptop.

“I think she said she was going to the sight meerkat for surprise,” Thang squeaked from where he sat in an earthy pot full of peat moss and rocks on the table next to his comrade. “If it’s a surprise I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Night Market for supplies,” Stuff muttered under her breath, quiet enough that Thang didn’t hear her, but Bog would. Bog nodded at Stuff, he shouldn’t have been surprised his mother wasn’t home. Griselda went to the Night Market every week. It was one of the few places to buy enough Dark Fae food to keep everyone healthy. There was only so much human food they could take before they needed something a bit more natural.

He was surprised that Stuff hadn’t gone with her as usual. Stuff was the only goblin other than Bog and his Mother who was any good at casting her own glamor. The others who had jobs among the humans all had such poor glamors that they had to wear disguises, work at night, or work alone. But Stuff easily passed as a human, if an eccentric one.

She was short and portly with a deep gravelly voice and buzzed short grey-brown hair. Her sense of style was a little questionable as well, Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. Since she had to wear clothes, she dressed for comfort.

Like I can talk about having an odd glamor, Bog thought in self disgust. I’m a forest king and I still can’t look like anything but a hideous beanpole.

Bog glanced over her shoulder and saw she was working on a complex spreadsheet with enough numbers and letters to make Bog’s head spin. He dug his hand into his bag and pulled out a black zipper bag that jingled with loose change.

He set it on the table between Stuff’s computer and Thang saying, “This week’s cash earnings from the store.”

Stuff nodded and said, “I’ll deposit it tomorrow. Things are starting to pick up.”

“Tha’s good to hear,” Bog muttered with a grimace, “Because it looks like they’re going to rip up The Rumblin’ Grove. I’m going back tomorrow night with the van to move everyone.”

Thang gasped in shock, but Stuff only grunted in acknowledgement of the crisis. She was a professional, and she would never let bad news get to her. Though Bog didn’t miss her concerned glance up at him, she was worried about him.

“I’m fine Stuff,” Bog growled. “I’m tired of everyone looking at me like I’m about to drop dead. Jus’ do your work.”

“Sure thing BK!” Stuff said enthusiastically enough to almost make Bog smile, “Tomorrow I’ll make sure there’s room prepared for The Grove residents. Don’t you worry about that. Tonight I’ll finish getting these finances sorted out.”

Bog nodded and meandered over toward the couch. Then he remembered something he’d wanted to discuss with her, he didn’t turn around to address her, but his request would still be heeded anyway. She was a very diligent vassal.

“Oh Stuff?”

“Yeah BK?”

“Could ya figure out if we have enough set aside for a used motorcycle?”

Stuff cocked her head to the side and frowned, “A motorcycle?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, and there’s no way I can keep this up. Taking the bus is too time consuming, Mother needs the van more than I do, and I’m tired of running. Can you look into it?”

“Of course!” Stuff said with a smile, then she muttered at Thang, “Ask him. He’ll appreciate it.”

Thang’s little voice piped up from his spot on the table, “Oh sire? It’s our shift in the store tomorrow, so if you want you can drop your glamor and go sleep somewhere more comfortable.”

“Right,” Bog muttered, but he didn’t change his path the slightest. As if he hadn’t heard the tiny goblin, he flopped down onto the couch and immediately fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Marianne didn’t have any classes on Friday, and she was reveling in it. As usual on the days off that she didn’t have to cram for tests or slave over projects, she threw on her leather jacket and riding boots. As she descended the stairs from her room so quickly it was more like falling, she loaded up a real estate app on her cell. Then she bounded out of her cottage with a gleeful smile stretching her face as she spun her keys around her finger.

Then her boots crunched on the empty gravel driveway and she remembered.

“DAMN!” She shouted as she kicked a large decorative rock. She groaned, exasperated by the inconveniences of life and the moderate pain in her foot, as she pulled out her phone, closed the real estate app, and opened her call log. After scrolling a bit to find what she needed she hit the dial button and waited for someone to pick up.

“Hi,” she said trying not to sound too personally offended by the perky secretary on the other end of the call, “I’m checking to see that a vehicle is still in the impound lot… It’s a black Harley with purple and red detailing. License is S-T-R-N-G-R… Actually it’s for ‘stronger’ not ‘stranger’. Great, I’ll pick it up in half an hour and pay the fee then… HOW MUCH?!?”

Once she’d failed trying to weasel out of the fees, Marianne called Sunny and begged for a ride downtown. Lounging on the porch bench, she was entirely ready to call it quits on her day off and go back to bed.

But when the sound of tires grinding on the river-rock gravel roused her from her self-piteous nap, she was more angry than lethargic. Schlumping into Sunny’s van, she slammed the door behind her. Then in a fit of petulance she neglected securing her seatbelt, put her feet up on the dashboard, and crossed her arms exuding righteous fury. Someone was going to have to face her wrath.

“And I thought you were cranky yesterday,” Sunny said as he drove away from the cottage.

“Thanks for the ride,” Marianne said curtly but politely. Sunny was doing a favor for his best friend’s crotchety big sister so she was doing her best not to let her pissy anger spill over onto him. But whoever had been stupid enough to have the property of the Future Queen of the Fairy Kingdom towed at her expense was going to pay, either physically or monetarily for their mistake.

“Happy to help. It’ll be nice to have your bike back. It was kind of stupid of you to park in that lot in the first place.”

“Ugh…” Marianne groaned, “How was I supposed to know I couldn’t park there?”

Sunny gave her a disapproving glance, “There was a sign.”

Marianne turned her golden brown glare onto the elf and said, her tone positively poisonous, “Well how was I supposed to know they’d take my bike and hold it hostage?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe the words ‘customers only, violators will be towed’ printed plain as day on the sign .” Then he released the wheel and gave her the most sarcastic “ta-da!” jazz hands she’d ever seen. “Seriously Marianne, you have no one but yourself to blame for that one.”

“Watch it there shorty,” Marianne growled, “Or I’ll stop by that club you work at tonight and make you regret teasing me.

“Well what am I supposed to do?” Sunny said with a playful smile, “I even told you not to park in that lot unless you go buy something from that shop. The owner is notorious for this.”

“What even is that stupid store anyway?” Marianne asked, not so subtly plotting a little revenge.

“Not sure. I’ve never been curious enough to go check it out. I think it’s a flower shop maybe? It’s called King’s Verdure & Vines - Obscure Flora Emporium. ”

Whoever this cockroach is doesn’t deserve to look at my bike let alone have it towed , She thought as she wrinkled her nose like she’d smelled something sour and rotten. But I have to admit, his store has a fantastic name.

Sunny continued to ramble on while Marianne toyed with various methods of payback, “My sources say that the owner is kind of old fashioned. I doubt he has a website or anything! But he’s big and mean and scary.”

A challenge, she thought. Finally.

Then with a sly look at the elf, she said, “You have sources?”

Sunny grinned at the cantankerous fairy princess, “Any club performer slash bartender slash delivery boy worth his salt has sources.”

Over the course of their drive, the elf was able to get Marianne to loosen up and calm down a bit before they arrived at the impound lot. By the time they got there they were talking about where Sunny should try to take Dawn for her next designated Outside The Fairy Kingdom day.

“So like I said, if you can get her into the museum for that History of Fashion exhibit, you’ll be her favorite person for a long long time,” Marianne said with a wink as she popped open the door and exited the van. “Would you mind sticking around? Just in case they don’t give me my bike back, I don’t really want to be stranded here you know?”

“No problem. I’ll just park and wait. Just let me know one way or the other,” Sunny said as he turned on the sound system and queued his iPod to something he could sing along with as Marianne walked toward the dingy concrete building. Her poor bike was trapped behind the chain-link fence that stretched from one side of the building and around the back to the other side.

“And Marianne! Thanks for the advice!” Sunny shouted at her through the open window.

Marianne waved at him without turning around and entered the building with a scowl.

She hated bureaucracy. With a fiery passion. It was one of the few things that the Fairies had in common with Humans, endless rules and policies. But Humans have computers, she thought as she filled out yet another form with mostly invented information. You’d think they’d have streamlined some things by now.

Eventually she’d filed all the paperwork and paid the exorbitant fee, made exorbitant by procrastinating picking up her vehicle. The heavily tattooed secretary with a surprisingly perky voice, walked Marianne out to her bike and opened the gate for her so she could walk it out. After getting it passed the gates she hopped on it, revved it up and took off. She’d forgotten how much she loved the freedom her bike gave her.

She pulled up alongside Sunny’s van and knocked on the window.

“Hey man, thanks for the rides these few weeks. Looks like I’m good to go,” Marianne said with a smile. Sunny grinned and gave her a double thumbs up before starting up his van and prepping to leave.

The rush of air through her hair and on her face, the blurry lines and colors of the world falling behind her, it all filled her with an exhilarated calm. Like standing on a cliff, watching a storm on the horizon. It was almost as good as flying.

As she zipped through the city streets, she considered how she would spend the rest of her day off. She could go scout out lots for sale like she had planned, or she could go pester a certain shopkeeper who had caused her no small inconvenience. Her grin grew and crinkled the edges of her face. She’d never met this person, but the thought of giving the prick a piece of her mind was exactly the kind of thing she needed to make the day a success.

King’s Verdure & Vines - Obscure Flora Emporium existed just outside the downtown area and was hardly what Marianne had come to expect from florist’s shops and nurseries. She parked in the back again, glaring at the sign she’d so foolishly ignored before as she leaned her bike on the kickstand and dismounted.

The Emporium was the last on a row of old rundown shops, possibly built around the Great Depression in a failed attempt to establish another shopping district in what had used to be a rather small town. King’s Verdure & Vines - Obscure Flora Emporium was also the only part of the building being devoured a vigorous, dark-leafed ivy, despite the obvious care that had been given the rest of the shop. While the other shops on the row had clouded windows, chipping brick fronts, and “closed” signs that looked rather permanent, some consideration had been put into cleaning up The Emporium and making it into a presentable business front.

Presentable that is if that business somehow involved dark magic, death metal, or tattoos.

The grungy brown brick had been painted a dusty blue-purple, morose black trim had been added as an accent to the storefront. The name of the store had been painted meticulously on the black lacquer door in silver paint and spidery lettering. Hanging above the door was an old-fashioned European pub sign, simply depicting a black thorny vine curling around a tarnished copper crown.

Marianne blinked at King’s Verdure & Vines. A mixture of overwhelming desire to leave and never set eyes on the foreboding store again, and an electric shock of thrill at venturing into a place so dark and possibly dangerous filled her chest. It was the same feeling she had just before going on a roller-coaster for the first time, and just before she bought her motorcycle.

This place was everything her father feared she’d find if she was allowed to explore the human world. Her being thrummed with excited energy as she wondered how she’d never noticed it before. The Emporium certainly stood out in a street that wanted to fade away from existence.

Well I don’t exactly come this way much , Marianne thought as she glanced around the neighborhood and knew it to be one of the more shady parts of town.

She’d only been there a few weeks previously because her usual dojo had to relocate temporarily for some renovations and they’d run out of parking behind their replacement building. It’d been dark then, and she had been running late and didn’t pay much attention.

Alright then Marianne, she thought at herself, Time to go look for a little trouble.

She grabbed the brass door handle and pulled. The door swung open easily and rang a little clapperless bell that only Fae could hear. It’s tinkling chime carried well and was more melodic than normal bells.

Shit, someone here has to be Fae.

She looked up at the little silver fairy bell suspiciously before her chatoyant eyes grew used to the darkness inside the store. The smell of earth, moss, and nighttime rain wafted over her as she shut the door behind her and let the shade of the store envelope her.

The store had obviously once been a pub. The glistening black bar now hosted a number of potted seedlings, trinkets, and a cash register. The shelves behind the bar were fully stocked with seed packets, terrariums, glass apothecary bottles of dried herbs, and bags of potting soil. The rest of the store was a jungle.

Vines creeped and twirled up the walls and the spiral staircase to the loft, huge potted ferns dwarfed Marianne as their curled fronds reaching toward the vaulted ceiling. Venus flytraps and other carnivorous plants lived on a table with a sign that read, “Don’t touch. Though we will laugh if you do. We’re not liable for injuries.” Orchids, both exotic and familiar clustered on a long table by the window, and thorny brambles were banished to the dark corners of the store in a futile attempt to keep them from reaching out and ensnaring customers. Everywhere she looked there was a new variety of night blooming flower or bioluminescent fungus she’d never seen before and hadn’t even imagined existing. It was beautiful, and dangerous.

A deep, resounding growl rippled from above her. Leaning on the railing of the loft, broad shoulders hunched defensively, crooked teeth bared, brow knotted over blazing eyes, was a towering figure.

Marianne froze, her heart beating like a rabbit inside her trying to get out. Whoever he was, he wasn’t human or Light Fae. She could tell that much, but no more. He had to be very powerful to keep her from seeing through his glamor completely.

In a swift movement as smooth and natural as breathing, he swung himself over the balcony railing and dropped to the floor, landing with surprising ease on the wood floors without even shaking the nearby pots and tables. He took two long steps toward Marianne and as he glared at her he twisted his head to pop his neck with a resounding crack.

“Now what do we have here?” He asked his voice all rough and grumbly edges, like a rock thrown angrily at a dead tree. “Looks like a pretty little fairy princess wandered a little far from home.”

Marianne blinked in surprise before scolding herself. If he was strong enough to keep her from seeing through his glamor, he could probably see through hers without batting an eye. She liked living with humans because besides the occasional people from the Fairy Kingdom, no one knew she was a princess, and heir to the throne. She was sick of the way people treated that title in the Fairy Kingdom. But there was no hiding it from this antagonistic Dark Fae, whoever he was.

He might be a pretty strong goblin, or troll, or hell even a dragon maybe , Marianne thought stubbornly. She broke her paralysis and smiled wickedly in challenge to his scowl. But he’s still the jerk that had my bike held hostage.

“What?” the intimidating Dark Fae store owner asked, perplexed by her grin.

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting the scaly-backed cockroach who had my bike towed from an empty lot after closing hours to be quite such a big guy. Seems like a rather small and petty thing to do.”

He narrowed his almost glowing electric blue eyes before lowering his head and growling, “There’s a sign. I have the right.”

Marianne ignored his attempt to block her entry into the store and meandered over to the flowers by the window. She also ignored his argument since he wasn’t in error about his right to tow.

“Still seems a bit like you’re compensating for something… Orchids? I’m surprised, seem a little mainstream for an ‘Obscure Flora Emporium’,” she teased as she perused the flowers.

The shopkeeper was now standing tall where she’d left him, but his hands were in his pockets and he was watching her carefully, like she might try to steal something.

“Those aren’t your grocery store orchids. My orchids are parasites and cannibals,” he said, “They root themselves to trees and bushes, some of them even digest the plants the grow from or ensnare curious insects. They may look beautiful, but they’re pernicious and devious. Sorta like fairies.”

Marianne raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “And what, besides take up a parking space for all of half an hour, did I do to deserve being ‘pernicious and devious’. You’re the one maliciously calling tow trucks and trying to scare young women out of your store.”

He mimicked her expression, raising a sharp brow and said, “At least I don’ try to come across as a harmless little butterfly. Are ya denying that yer here to cause trouble?”

He had an interesting accent, almost Scottish, but not quite, a tell tale sign of a Fae who had learned the Old Language before learning English. She would need to be careful, the Old Language meant Old Magic.

Marianne shrugged and replied flippantly, “Nope! That’s exactly why I came here. Had my morning ruined by spending it at the impound lot, so I thought I’d stop in and take a look at what you were so jerkishly protecting.”

He gritted his teeth and said, “Miss, I’m gonna have to ask ya to leave. This is no place for you and I don’t sell to Light Fae anyhow.”

Ow, Marianne thought, Okay that hurt.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Marianne said, letting her anger show in her eyes. She actually liked his store, and she wasn’t fond of getting kicked out of places she liked. She glanced at the silver name-tag pinned to his black vest with the simple name King. “I happen to love the goth-emo-flower-child theme you’ve got going on here Mr. King and want to keep looking around. You don’t even know me, I might be the best customer you've ever had.”

“I don’ want to know ya,” Bog said as gestured to the door. “If you’re lookin’ for trouble, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Marianne pouted and then bounded around a planter toward the half of the store he’d been blocking before. She glanced back and saw his shoulders sag and he rubbed his forehead before following her slowly.

“I was being polite,” he growled, “I will throw you out of my shop. Don’t make me do it by force.”

“Just you try it Mr. King. You don’t stand a chance,” she said as she peeked out from behind a fern, and grinned at the drained sigh that came from the man on the other side of the plant.

“Damn I’m too tired for this bullshit… If I let ya buy something, then will ya leave on your own?” He asked his shoulders drooping in defeat.

“Yup,” She said with a mischievous scrunch of her nose. She hadn’t had someone new to pester in a while. And while she loved teasing Dawn and Sunny, they knew her too well and usually ignored her. For some reason this guy was incapable of letting her have the last word, which was absolutely perfect. She’d been raring for a verbal spar but not so badly she was willing to have a chat with her father.

“Fine. But hurry it up. I don’t want ya here.”

“And why not?” She said as she perused the night blooming flowers. They weren’t blooming since it was daytime, but the pictures displaying each kind in blossom showed that most would be very beautiful in a moonlit park or growing on a balcony or terrace. She pulled out her phone to snap a quick picture of them in case she needed them for a project.

He had come around the planter the other way and ducked behind the bar, standing by the cash register and waiting for her to pick something to arbitrarily purchase. “Because I hate princesses, and fairies for that matter. I don’t trust you. I only trust my own.”

“Own what?” She asked slyly, if she could get him to reveal what he was she might be able to get an upper hand on him.

He just looked at her, knowing exactly what she was up to. The lines around his eyes were so interesting, like war trenches dug in field before battle. He couldn’t be that old, but there was so much worry and responsibility in those eyes. Pain too. The kind that was familiar.

She shook her head and looked again at the flowers. They were asleep, buds curled up and protected from the harsh sunlight that was almost non-existent in the dusky shop. She was a night owl anyway, maybe it’d be nice to have something a little exotic for her window-boxes.They were certainly different from any of the plants people were using in her landscaping classes. Maybe she could use this store to her advantage.

“What does it take to grow these?” She asked, pointing to a variety of white flower that was elegant and deadly at the same time. Almost looked like a cousin to a lotus, but it grew from a plant with wide, waxy leaves. The sign read, “Night-Blooming Cereus”.

The store owner leaned back against the shelves behind him, crossing his arms as he watched her, but he provided the information she asked for in a practiced tone he obviously used with customers often. “It’s a desert plant. A cactus variety. So plant it in sandy, loose soil, with rocks in the bottom. Pick a pot that drains well. Only water after the soil has pretty much completely dried out. It’ll grow rather large so plan for that. It’s a bit cold here for it so keep it indoors or in a greenhouse. You can look up more online I’m sure. Or if you’re really interested I could suggest a book.”

“Cool. Maybe I’ll get one another day,” she said as she deserted the table with a smirk, she wasn’t going to buy something until she’d had a good look at what the Dark Fae had to offer. The back half of the store under the loft was walled off by paned glass, she tried to sneak a look through, but the room beyond it was darker than the rest of the store. The glass door had a sign painted in silver on black wood that said, “Employee presence required to enter.”

“What’s back here?” she asked jabbing a thumb at the door.

A slow, predatory grin crept over the man’s face, sending a cold shiver down Marianne’s spine. “Things not meant for Fairies… Would you care to see?”

Chapter Text

Fairies were naturally annoying to Bog, but this one was clearly determined to push his annoyance to a new level.

The bells on the door had woken him suddenly from an unintended nap hunched over his desk in his loft office that doubled as a minuscule apartment. After hurrying to wipe a spot of drool off his stubbly chin and smooth back his hair he glanced through the railing and saw her. His hopes of having a real customer were dashed as his shoulders went taut and his chest filled with cold dread.

She was going to be the entirely unwanted ray of sunshine on his surprisingly calm, dark, and restful morning. And she wasn’t the average little glowstick of a Light Fae either. No, the power emanating from her was like looking at a bonfire. Bright, wild, searing and uncontrollable.

Bog had pushed at her glamor out of curiosity, and saw her purple phantom wings trailing behind her and a light in her eyes like golden-brown tiger eye gems. He’d never seen a fairy princess before, but there was nothing else she could possibly be. She wasn’t quite powerful enough to be a Monarch, but she was close —probably the direct heir to a throne— and the glow was positively sickening.

Trying to scare her off without revealing his identity was a challenge, and completely ineffectual. He could tell when she walked in that she was itching for a fight, but all intimidation did was encourage her to change her tactic. Instead of an outright confrontation she evaded and pestered. There wasn’t much he could do to make her stop, short of physically removing her from his store. But she was powerful enough that such action would require magic, and Bog didn’t have the energy for that.

So he caved, waiting behind the counter for her to decide he wasn’t worth bothering. He knew that was her revenge. That by being just pleasant enough to not get thrown out she could stay and annoy him for as long as she wanted. He was trapped. If Bog really wanted her gone he’d have to use up what little energy he had, and if he let her stay she’d slowly sap it from him with the constant conversational battle.

And then like the gods themselves decided to give Bog the chance to payback the discomfort this Light Fae was doling out on him, she’d taken interest in the backroom.

“What’s back here?” She asked. Her voice was lower than most fairies’ but still smooth like silk, a trait no Dark Fae had or could even fake. Dark Fae spoke in whispers, grumbles, growls, gruffness, or high reedy or nasally tones. There was always undertones in a Dark Fae voice, a raw honesty of sound that Light Fae couldn’t fake either. Light Fae usually had clear voices, sultry, soft, cloyingly pleasant and beautiful like the rest of their appearance.

Oh good, Bog thought as a smile crept on his face, The Moon Room should scare the damnable daylight out of her.

“Things not meant for Fairies… Would you care to see?” he growled with his most sinister smile.

She nodded, and Bog had to admit he admired her gumption. It was no easy thing for a Light Fae to come into his store at all, then to interact with him so flippantly was an indicator that either the Fairy was very tough, or very stupid.

He stalked around the bar and unlocked the glass door, holding it open for her. As she walked inside the noises of crickets and shifting, slithering things stilled, leaving the room in terrible silence. Bog called the backroom the Moon Room because it was like a sunroom but cast in the thick darkness of night instead if the burning light of day. It was lit only by dim lamps in the corners of the room and twinkling starlight christmas lights on the ceiling. A large silver crescent moon was painted in magic on the wall by the back door, and it cast a mild silver light over the tables and shelves.

The fairy gulped as she looked around, and the festering annoyance under Bog’s skin turned to a self satisfied warmth. Yeah, that’s what I thought Princess. Not as much of a tough girl as you thought you were huh?

The wares in the Moon Room were the most evil looking in the whole store, even if only about half of the wares were actually deadly, it was still a terrifying scene.

Young bloody-tooth fungus looked like a pile of flesh covered in weeping sores, bioluminescent pearls hung in strings to try to insnare bugs for the glowworms that made them, poisonous plants were each labeled with skulls and crossbones. There were a few magical plants as well, their power unknown to most humans, and which Bog couldn’t give away for mere money. A real dragon’s skull hung on the back wall over the store’s emblem of a crown wrapped in black thorny vines. Drying herbs and goblin-crafted charms hung from the mounted elk antlers sticking out from the walls. Shelves held some preserved items his mother had made to “liven up the joint” that sometimes creeped even Bog out. Mandrake roots, long dead serpents, and jet black frogs seemed to watch from their bottles as the fairy and the Bog King walked through the Moon Room.

“Th-This stuff is… Uh… l-lovely,” she said, stuttering as she caught sight of a Deadly Nightshade plant growing up through the eye socket of a bleached deer’s skull.

Bog couldn’t help but chuckle. The Moon Room always reminded him of who and what he was. He was The Bog King, evil ruler of the Dark Forest, master of all things creeping and macabre. This little fairy princess had no idea who she was dealing with.

“Back here is where we keep the more dangerous and unusual items in our inventory,” he said as he stood back in a corner and watched curiously to see the Light Fae’s reaction to something so completely foreign to her. After staring for a minute, holding stock still, he expected her to back out of the room and leave the store quickly.

Bog blinked in surprise when she stepped up to a tank overflowing with a dark leafed vine —so dark maroon that the spearhead-shaped leaves were almost black— and looked at it with curiosity.

“What’s this plant called? I’ve never seen it before except on the outside of your building,” she asked intently.

“Uh. Um…” Bog hesitated, he wasn’t sure what to say to the not-as-scared-as-she-should-be fairy. “Cloak-vine… For guarding hidden secrets and warding off undesired attention.”

“Hm. Does it work?” She asked as she inspected the plant thoughtfully.

“Thought it did,” Bog muttered, shoulders hunching grouchily at the girl’s bothersome bravery. “The one on the outside of my shop encourages Light Fae to go away, and you’re the first one to come in here in five years. Judge that how you will.”

“Seems decent to me, I’m not exactly your average Light Fae am I? Does it work on everyone? Or can you spell it to only keep away certain people?” The fairy asked as she turned around to look at Bog and put her hands on her hips.

“Uh. There is an incantation you use when you plant it. You can either instruct it to hide you from everyone or groups of people.”

“What about specific person?” She asked, her eyes dark and intense, made more striking cast in the shadows that swallowed everything in the Moon Room, and Bog really looked at her for the first time. She was dressed in blacks and purples, her wild short hair was a medium umber, much darker than that of most Fairies, and her golden brown eyes adorned with smokey makeup and her small mouth stained with a deep plum lipstick. Unlike most of her kin she was a creature comfortable in shadows. She was different.

“Y-you’d have to know their full name, but yes. Specific people too,” Bog said, stuttering slightly as he was taken aback by her intensity.

Then her serious expression melted and with a grin she said, “I’ll take it!”

Bog blinked at her bold decisiveness, and then chuffed out a short breathy laugh. “I wouldn’t sell that to a fairy. It’s a magical plant from the Dark Forest. It’s not for you.”

Her eyes were like glittering brown opal as she stepped up to him and pulled her wallet out of the back pocket of her tight jeans. “Mr. King. I’m willing to pay handsomely for it. I think it’s a beautiful plant, that will add a touch of character to the fucking fairytale fantasy cottage I have to live in. And the fact it might be able to keep a certain creepy individual out of my house makes me even more interested,” she said as she pulled a plastic card out of her wallet and held it out to him. “Name a price. I’ll pay separately for the incantation if you want.”

Bog cleared his throat as he thought. After losing the Rumbling Grove, we could really use the money. We’ll need to buy another property soon to found another sanctuary. And she’s the only customer you’ve had all day.

“Alright,” he said as she pointed out to the bar. “Go wait over there and I’ll harvest one for ya.”

She grinned at him triumphantly. And he really wished he could kick her out on her ass for infiltrating his domain. But the rich little princess could inadvertently save his people, and that was worth humoring her.

He dug his hands into the tank where the Cloak-vine grew ignoring the scratches from the occasional thorn. He felt along a stem to where it buried itself into the soft soil in the bottom of the tank. Then sliding his hand into the dirt he found a round bulb that held the potential to grow another plant and had already sprouted one curling vine. He gently tugged on it until what roots it had detached and the plant came free from it’s brothers. Grabbing an empty mason jar from under the table he put the bulb down for a moment so he could fill the jar halfway with dirt from the tank before putting the bulb into it. Then he joined the fairy at the checkout bar.

“Alright princess,” he growled as he put the jar of mostly dirt and one black tendril on the counter in front of her and then brushed the dirt off of his hands. “The bulb in that thing is tough, but should be planted soon. Plant it at the base of the house wherever it’ll get the most shade all day long. Water it daily until the vine is crawling up the walls on its own. Then natural rainfall will be enough.”

“Thanks!” she said as she picked up the jar and looked at it. “And the incantation?”

Bog grimaced, his skin itched at selling such a thing to a Light Fae, like he was covered in dirt or bugs. But then, he usually felt dirty doing a lot of the things necessary to keeping his people safe and secure. So like with everything else, he gritted his teeth and did what he had to.

“If you want the vine to have the most powerful effect, plant the Cloak-vine bulb on the night of a full moon when it’s at it’s apex in the sky. And while you’re planting recite this,” he pulled a square card the size of a drink coaster, one side had his store logo and phone number and the other side was blank. He grabbed a pen and jotted down the incantation in the same spidery handwriting as on the doors and signs. When finished he carelessly tossed it onto the bar in front of her. She slid the card off of the counter and poured over the spell.

“Cloak-vine, dark and ignored,
I implore you to use your gifts,
To obscure me in your leaves.
Whenever (name here) see(s) me here,
May (they/him/her) see you first,
And think of better places to be.
Cloak-vine. Hide me from unwanted eyes.”

“It would work best in the Old Tongue, but since it’s clear you don’t know any of it,” Bog said with a shrug in response to her glare. It was obvious from her voice that she didn’t know any of the Old Language. The ancient language of the Fae left their voices touched. There was no way to hide knowledge or ignorance of it. “English will have to do. Keep repeating it. Once the bulb is planted, water it thoroughly. After you’ve finished watering it you can stop the incantation. Got it?”

“Yup!” She said as she handed over her credit card. “How much is it going to cost me?”

Bog took the credit card as his long fingers hovered over the cash register buttons and he thought. He wanted to charge her an insane amount, simply to pay her back for the few minutes of annoyance. But as he thought, his eyes wandered to his annoying customer. Her long fingered hands held the little jar tenderly, like it was important to her. Like it gave her hope.

“$305.57 for the plant,” Bog said, pulling the actual price from memory, doubling it, and adding tax in his head. Cloak-vine was a rare plant, as far as he knew he was the only person that sold it, and with the incantation it was worth double it’s usual price.

“Woah,” she said as he swiped her card and handed it back to her. “While that’s pricey for a plant, after the trouble I gave you, I expected you to charge me a lot more.”

“I may be an evil and hideous Dark Fae,” Bog muttered, “But I try to stay honest. And that price wasn’t including the full price of the spell anyway.”

“What?” the fairy asked. Confusion furrowing her dainty brows. “Why didn’t you ring up that too then?”

Bog handed her the receipt and smiled thoughtfully, “Trading magic requires a bit more payment than just money. Only way it works, so it’ll cost something different.”

“Like what?”

“Hmmm…” Bog pondered for a moment, and then with a crooked smile he said, “I think a name would suffice.”

“A name. My name?” she replied, a slightly panicked look widening her delicate features.

Good, she knows the power of it, he thought as his smile grew more toothy. So she’s not an idiot.

“Yes, or a promise to never come back to my store,” he said trying not to appear too invested in that offer over the other. “Either seems to be appropriate payment for such a spell.”

“You are evil,” Marianne said with a grimace. Then she smirked with all her sly fairy and feminine charm and said, “Fine! My name’s Marianne, and I don’t have a last name. Not a real one anyway. Just Marianne.”

She then pointed a demanding finger at his face, almost poking Bog’s sharp nose, “So help me if voodoo-dark-magic-shit starts happening to me I’m sending someone to kill you. Or I’ll do it myself. Got it?”

Bog’s face fell. He had really hoped he’d get the promise instead, she’d seen through his bluff. Magic trades always seemed to backfire on him that way. He had no idea what he was actually going to do with the princess’ name now that he knew it, except may plant another Cloak-vine outside his store.

“Easy there tough girl,” he grumbled as he walked her towards the exit. “Don’ have me assassinated next time you trip over somethin’. I don’t want to use your name anyhow. I just want you out like ya promised.”

Marianne shook her head at him as she said, “I’m going! I’m going! But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me Mr. King. You’ve got a really neat place here and I think I’ll want to get another look sometime.”

“Please no,” Bog said putting his hands out like he could actually stop her that way, the words blurting out before he could stop them. The damnable fairy just grinned at his desperation to have her gone. He was certainly going to see her again.

He opened the front door for her and was startled by Stuff walking by outside as Marianne stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“What are you doing here?” he asked his employee and vassal, it wasn’t her day to mind the store.

“Thang and I brought you a present Boss!” Stuff said after shooting a curious stare at Marianne.

The fairy was staring in surprise at Stuff, her eyes wide and a little fearful. She could almost certainly see through Stuff’s glamor and see the squat, frog-like goblin underneath. Bog wanted to laugh at her, but he was too concerned about what this “present” could be.

“What?” Bog growled. He hated presents. Last time Stuff had brought him a present his mother and all the goblins had scraped together enough money to enroll him in the local community college. The present was Stuff and his mother kicking him out of the house in broad daylight and forcing him to go to class. It had been less than pleasant.

“Boss! I’ve got it right here!” A high voice said from around the corner of the store. It was Thang.

Oh no, Bog thought, Thang’s involved.

He glanced worriedly at Marianne, who had seemed to let go of her surprise at being face to face with a goblin, and was now curious to see what kind of presents Dark Fae give each other. Ignoring her, Bog strode around the corner and stopped short when he saw a barely glamored Thang —looking like a skinny, wide-mouthed, buggy eyed kid— doing jazz-hands next to something truly hideous.

A small, sunshine-yellow mo-ped with the store’s logo slapped on the side.

That is not what I meant when I said I wanted a motorcycle, Bog thought as his heart fell through a hole in his stomach. Kill me now.

A snort erupted from a certain curious fairy princess, followed by raucous laughter. Bog snapped his glare onto her and held it until she stopped giggling.

“Is that yours?” she asked as she tried to stifle more laughter.

Bog covered his eyes with his hand as he massaged his forehead. His subjects as usual had the most embarrassing timing.

“Stuff?” Bog asked without looking up and continuing to knead his brow with his long calloused fingers.

“Yeah BK?” Stuff replied cautiously. She knew to be wary of his moods better than Thang did.

“Does it run?”

“Of course,” she replied, still unsure what Bog’s angle was.

“Thang?” He asked, still not uncovering his eyes. He could feel the fairy’s eyes on him and his cheeks grew warm from blushing. Damn this fairy , he thought.

“Yes sire?” Thang said, his whiny voice as perky and pleased with himself as possible.

“Does it have gas?”

“Oh yes! Just filled it up!” Thang’s skinny little chest puffed out in pride.

“Last question… Can I ride it off a cliff?” Bog asked as he drug his hand down his face and looking at his young valet with a dismal expression.

“Sir! Why would you do that?” Thang responded with an aghast frown.

Marianne laughed again, the giggle like chimes and a waterfall had a baby, and sauntered past the goblins, Bog, and the preppy mo-ped. She pointed at the little vehicle and gave Bog a teasing double thumbs up before striding up to her own bike, a large black, red, and purple Harley. She hopped on, looking like a knightess astride a war horse. She revved it up —the sound a mix between a dangerous growl and a seductive purr— and sped out of the parking lot passed the embarrassed Bog and confused goblins.

Fucking fairies , Bog thought as she watched her disappear down the street. Well, at least she has good taste in vehicles…

“Boss you shouldn’t ride it off a cliff that could kill you! It can’t fly! See it has wheels!” Thang keened, still stuck on Bog’s half-joking jibe.

“Never mind Thang. Thank you guys,” Bog said. He was too weary to chew them out over getting him the wrong kind of vehicle. They probably couldn’t afford to buy anything better anyway, and it was enough to get him where he needed to be everyday. “This is… lovely.”

“Besides… I don’t think there are any cliffs around here sire,” Thang muttered as he scratched his scalp thoughtfully through his awkward mop of hair.

“I said never mind Thang!”

Chapter Text

Thankfully Marianne only had to wait a week for the full moon. After planting the Cloak-vine, incantation and all, she sat on a bench in the garden, silver light sparkling off the decorative fountain and making the white roses glow. It was beautiful, but it was a delicate, domesticated beauty. Her thoughts turned back to King’s Verdure and Vines . There was a place with wild beauty.

Glancing in the direction of the newly planted vine, the rough voice of the shopkeeper rumbled through her head, “I wouldn’t sell that to a fairy. It’s a magical plant from the Dark Forest. It’s not for you.”

“The Dark Forest…” she whispered, her voice barely catching the breeze and was whisked away. She stood and headed out into the darkness of the Fairy Kingdom’s eastern borderlands. Anxiety twisted in her chest like someone was wringing out her heart.

Jeez! Chill! She thought, You’re far away from the palace, and there aren’t any elf towns or brownie settlements out this way. No one else would be out this late and this close to the border anyway.

She’d never been to the eastern border. The crossing point on the road near the house was in the north where the Fairy Kingdom, and the nature preserve it was on, ended and the Human world began. After meeting a couple goblins and one tall, cranky who-knows-what for the first time in her life, Marianne felt obligated to find out what had happened to their former neighbors. She had been told stories, the Dark Forest used to border with the Fairy Kingdom, the goblins and their Gorse King striking fear into the hearts of any who dared trespass. However many, including her father, claimed that the Gorse King and his family had been dead for years, and the goblins ruled over themselves in a time of anarchy. But beyond the old wives tales, there were no facts or formal reports about what had happened to the Forest and it’s occupants.  She’d asked Dawn to comb the records for her, and her sister had come up with nothing even mentioning Dark Fae since the Human expansion of the The City forty years previously.

It’s time to find out for myself, she thought as she reached the borderlands, pleasant stands of aspen and birch trees, beyond which, a high wooden fence. Pressing her face to the rough wooden slats, she tried to peek through and see what was on the other side, but she could only see darkness. She grimaced in defeat at the top of the fence which too high for her to jump or climb.

“Well,” she muttered as she considered her options. “I’m not doing anything until tomorrow afternoon. Might as well…”

She looked around, trying to sense that there weren’t any of her citizens around. Crickets chirped and the wind made the aspen leaves shiver, but beyond that the night was silent. She slid her hand into her jeans back pocket and pulled out a small wad of cloth. Holding it tightly in her hand she remembered her wings, and launched herself into the air.

Skin tingled, weight lifted, the world whooshed away and around. Her glamor was gone, she was her true self again. Marianne stretched her wings and soared in circles, reveling at the bigness of the world, and the wonderful freedom of flight. Then a cool breeze on her skin reminded her that her clothes were in a pile on the ground and she was completely naked. However she was still holding that wad of cloth, now more of a weight in her hand.

It was a simple dress, a sleeveless halter-top so she wouldn’t need the aid of the sprites in getting it around her wings properly. She alighted on the top of the fence and slipped it on as quickly as she could manage. Dawn had made it out of human fabric so it was much more coarse and heavy than the spider silk dresses she wore to the palace. But Marianne loved that, it was tougher, harder to rip and more likely to protect her, light canvas armor. Once dressed the prickly wood beneath her feet reminded her she’d forgotten boots.

“Damn,” she muttered, “Fine, no landing in anything gross.”

Turning slowly to look out over the other side of the fence, Marianne felt some presence behind her. Something was not as it should have been. Something was wrong.

On the other side of the fence there were no rustling trees. No dark canopy where goblin sentries watched. There was only a chasm. The huge concrete aqueduct stretched out as far as Marianne could see to the north and south, water trickling far at the bottom like a stream. And beyond it only city lights.

“What?” She gasped softly as she let the drafts take her over the cement and electricity. “The Dark Forest isn’t even here…” She muttered, eyes wide in astonishment. Her whole life she’d been told the goblins and other grotesqueries were just on the other side of the fence, waiting for their chance to climb it and take over the Fairy Kingdom they were so jealous of.

But no. They weren’t deviously scheming and plotting to envade. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. Their home was gone.

“It’s not for you.” That’s what he meant , she thought, there isn’t much of his home left, so why would he give it to a Fairy… Damn that makes me feel kind of shitty.

But if the Dark Fae shop owner and his goblin lackies she’d run into were still around, there had to be some Dark Forest somewhere, or somewhere the residents were taking refuge.

Maybe they’re already doing what I’m trying to do, Marianne thought to herself, Live among the humans instead of sequestering themselves away like my people.

The city sparkled at night, white and yellow lights twinkling like a field of stars. Guilt twisted in Marianne’s stomach. In all her studies, the hours spent blueprinting, she’d never thought about the Dark Fae. Every building she’d designed to house both Humans and a Fae population, were designed specifically for her people. But obviously, there were Dark Fae who already had nowhere to go.

They’re out there… Somewhere. And I’m going to find them.

Taking off for the city, a shiver of thrill rushed through Marianne. She’d never left the Fairy Kingdom un-glamored before. Everything was so much bigger. Buildings and trees loomed over her, lights were as bright as spotlights and the humans… The humans were so much more frightening. She tried to ignore the giants meandering through the streets below her, any one of them willing to stick her in a jar and sell her on eBay if she showed herself to them.

Right , She thought shaking herself out of her distracting wonder, I’m here to see if I can find out what happened to the Dark Forest.

She flew as high as she could without getting caught in the strong currents. Trembling fear ran through her body. Fairies were not meant to fly so high, her wings were too delicate and she was completely vulnerable with nowhere to go but down, down, down. But she needed to see as much of this part of the city as she could. There was the dark patch that indicated her kingdom, only lights coming from her cottage. She looked for another area that was deserted enough to maybe house a the Dark Forest.

There was something very small, a few city blocks away from the Fairy Kingdom. It looked like a maybe it was a park.

Good place to start , She thought as she dove for that small section of void among the sea of colored stars.

As she grew closer she saw moonlight shimmer off of leaves, it was a park. As soon as she ducked beneath the canopy in an attempt to land, a guttural growl, followed by a chorus of harsh howls rumbled through the trees. She’d been seen, and she got the message clearly. The Dark Fae did not want her intruding on their territory. Her insides turned to ice and blood rushed to her wings in an attempt to help her get away fast.

Frantically darting up and out of the trees she flew as far away as she could.

Okay. That was stupid of me , she thought as she paused on a rooftop to catch her breath. I found on place they’re hiding, but maybe I’ll keep looking in my bigger body. Ask a few questions around… See if Sunny can find anything for me… That might be safer.

Chapter Text

While Bog hated the little yellow mo-ped, he had to admit it was nicer than running from one piece of the Dark Forest to the other all night. The time the annoying little vehicle saved allowed him to actually make it back to the store instead of crashing on his mother’s couch. Bog had just finished hearing the concerns of the people of the kingdom, and advising the Rumbling Grove inhabitants on their new duties and expectations of their new homes. It was time to hit the grocery store for some necessities.

The store was quiet enough that the music piped through the speakers blared oldies throughout the store. As he meandered the brightly lit aisles he only encountered one other customer, midnight was the best time to unperturbed shopping. He filled his cart with enough coffee to put him into cardiac arrest, five huge bags of beef jerky, a case of his favorite beer, various kinds of mushrooms, marked down bagels, a handful of wedges of fancy cheeses with a sharp smell, cheap nearly expired steak, and a dozen frozen single serve pot pies. He grabbed a few more varieties of junk food and home goods before heading to the registers.

The middle-aged checkout woman eyed him through false eyelashes when she was ringing up his less than balanced diet of meat, fungus, cheese and junk food. “Bachelor huh?”

“Heh,” Bog chuckled as he got out his debit card. “And proud.”

“I see. Well honey, don’t go too hard on this poison,” she said holding up a can of energy drink, “Burns right through your stomach lining.”

Bog restrained an exasperated sigh, he didn’t know what it was about him that made the older ladies feel the need to adopt him and offer him motherly advice. Did his mother somehow know every post-menopausal woman in town and managed to rope them into a blood-pact to look after him by providing unneeded advice?

“Yeah it is pretty bad, not too fond of the taste either. But unfortunately I can’t stay awake through the work day without it sometimes,” he said patiently, accepting her advice. Mother had taught him better than to be rude to service workers, given she’d been working registers most of his life.

She nodded knowingly and grabbed a thermos from under her register, “I know how that is. I’ve got a coffee addiction for sure. Night shift’s no picnic.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do right?” Bog said with a sympathetic smile. He liked the taste of black coffee better than the cloying sweetness of energy drinks, but every now and then a Monster budged the tiredness that coffee couldn’t shake.

“Right,” she said as she handed him the receipt, “You have a good night sir.”

“You too,” he said as he loaded his bags into the cart and pushed it toward the exit. When he got to his mo-ped he realized he had a problem.

“Uh oh…” There wasn’t room for all the stuff he’d purchased in the metal basket attached to the back of the moped. “Hmm…”

He loaded everything he could in the back, then he tied a couple of the lighter bags to the handles of the bike, and stuff as much as he could into his backpack.

“This is… just great,” Bog said as he started up the moped and felt it struggling to move him and his stuff down the street.

Good thing it’s late and only a few blocks from the shop, he thought as a car zoomed past him nearly clipping him.  

He managed to make it back to his shop with only one minor tumble, losing a can of energy drink to the fall. He carried the surviving groceries to the loft and began putting things away. His loft was half filled with plants much like the rest of the store, extra stock was kept in the loft waiting to be needed. But the rest of it was his. His home and tiny domain. A desk, second hand fridge, beat up kitchenette, and a couch were all he could fit into the small space, but it was enough.

Bog hadn’t had much chance to actually live in his apartment in the last five years since opening the shop. A subtle smile grew on his face as he put away his groceries, popped a movie in the DVD player and switched on the ancient television. A quiet movie night to himself was long overdue. He changed into flannel pajama pants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and then popped some popcorn and cracked open a beer while he listened to the opening sequence of the 1984 version of Dune .

No sooner than Bog settled onto his pile of cushions and blankets that hid the couch, beer in one hand, bowl of popcorn in the other, than the fairy bells on the door tinkled out a warning. The spell on the bells kept them silent to everyone but Bog after dark since he was the only Fae there at night. But their message was loud and clear to their master. The door should have been locked, but invaders had crossed the threshold.

In a silent flurry of  movement he muted the tv and placed his beer and bowl of popcorn on the floor as he crouched and grabbed a quarterstaff he kept leaning against the wall in the corner. It didn’t have the natural weight of his royal scepter, but it would do for bashing in some punkass vandals’ heads. He crept to the large planter near the banister and listened to the intruders downstairs who were speaking loudly and had obviously not expected anyone to be there.

“Ew, this odious place? She was here? Why?” a smooth voice with a southern drawl asked his companions.

“Dunno,” a higher, sycophantic voice said, “All we know is that after picking up her bike she came straight here. She was here for about ten minutes and then she left.”

Marianne , Bog thought realizing they were talking about the annoying fairy princess who had visited his shop a week previously. His brows furrowed and he bared his teeth, What are these thugs doing checking up on places she’s been?

“Why in the world would a beauty like Marianne come here? It obviously isn’t for anything they’re selling. Maybe I should have a word with the… owner?” The southern accent man said and Bog could hear the sneer in his voice. Whoever this prick was, he was managing to do shady shit six ways from Sunday, and Bog would not allow such an unpleasant jerk to stay in his store for another moment.

“Maybe you should,” Bog said as he stood at his full height, looming over the banister and glaring at the intruders who were apparently only snooping and not there for theft or vandalism. Bog needed to make it clear that snooping in Verdure & Vines was an incredibly stupid decision. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t rip your pretty wings off.”

He stalked down the spiral staircase and glowered down at a traditionally handsome blonde man and his three lackeys, identical triplets more unnerving than any young twin girls from a horror movie. All four of them were fairies, weak ones at that, hardly any glow and their glamors were very transparent. They all wore suits, the blonde man’s was a deep green with gold accents and a matching gold tie. The get up was gaudy and awful but somehow his male model beauty made it somehow look fashionable. Though Bog still thought he looked like an idiot. His lackeys dressed in tasteful —if creepily identical— brown suits instead.

The blonde one had just enough power to be a knight or lesser noble, and he was obviously the ringleader. However even all four of them together were no threat to a fully realized King, even a King with a fractured kingdom.

“Well?” Bog growled as he towered over the men. “Who you are and what you’re doing here?”

They all stared at him with gaping, terrified faces. Throats closed up and silent from shock. Bog could smell the fear coming off of their sweaty skin. He smirked, lips peeling back from crooked, slightly pointed teeth.

Then the golden haired leader gulped and with a nervous smile said, “We’re —heh— friends of Marianne’s?”

“Marianne? I assume you mean that fairy chick. Why would associating with that pest convince me to forgive trespassing on my realm?” Bog responded as he banged his staff against the tile floors and cricked his neck. “Besides, I doubt ya are friends of hers. I got the impression that she has better taste. Stalkery bastards don’t seem her type.”

“Now just one second,” the leader said, his perfectly manscaped brows furrowing in offense. “How dare a creature like you talk to me like that?”

Bog chuckled, deep rolling laughter, like the threat of thunder. He hadn’t bothered to reinforce his glamor, and even the twit could see through it. But it didn’t matter, because it was entertaining to see a fairy almost wet themselves at getting a glimpse of a hideous, pissed off, goblin king.

“I can talk to ya however I please. Because I’m evil—” Bog said as he lashed out with his staff and swept the coward’s feet out from under him, sending the green and gold fop to the ground. “And you broke into my store—” Then he caught the fist from a decent right hook from one of the triplets in his hand and bent the man’s hand back, possibly breaking his wrist. “So you’re lucky I don’t call the police or worse—”

Then Bog yanked the door open and jabbed at the scrambling intruders roughly with his staff until they hurried out of the store. “If you come here again, I’ll make sure ya end up where no living soul will find ya. Got it?”

“Oh yeah!” one of the triplets muttered as all four of the fairies booked it for their expensive looking car. Bog watched them go, anger making way for suspicion and worry.

Tough Girl was alright for a fairy , Bog thought, tightening his brow as the car sped off. But those cretins were something else. I hope she isn’t mixed up with them.

“Sire?” A voice like rocks tumbling down a hill grumbled from a dark alleyway. Bog arched a brow in surprise at the newcomer’s voice. It was vaguely familiar, but not one of his goblins. The presence of such a powerful Dark Fae brought Bog some comfort. The shadows behind him shifted, wrapping around him in a calming, natural protection.

“Yes? Who’s there?” Bog asked, not turning around but watching which way the fairies’ car turned at the end of the street.

“My name is Cragmire m’lord. I am a troll from the eastern mountains beyond the city, we met briefly a number of daylights ago.”

“Ah yes, and do you need something Cragmire?” Bog asked, noting that the car turned east toward downtown.

“No sire. Because of your generosity I have been staying in the park with your goblins on bright, moonlit nights such as these… They sent me with a message since I was the only one glamored.”

“What message?” Bog asked frowning, they wouldn’t have bothered sending anyone unless it was important, since they normally just used the mushrooms.

“A fairy was seen in the Dark Forest sire,” the troll snarled from the shadows. “She darted below the treeline then flew off when the alarm was sounded…”

“ She you say? Hmmm…” Bog mused. I would bet my livelihood that the fairy in question is Marianne, how interesting…  

“Is there trouble coming from the fairy folk?” Cragmire asked, growling a little in preparation for battle. The mountain troll was elderly, and Bog would never permit him to fight especially since he had no bond with the Dark Forest, but Bog recognized the sound of experience in that question. In the mountains, the balance between the Fae was always tumultuous and war was always on the horizon. There was no doubt this troll knew how to kill fairies.

Bog nodded imperceptibly at the question. “Possibly. I can’t think it’s a coincidence that five fairies have come here when I haven’t even seen one of their kind in twenty years… Brownies and elves sure, but I didn’t know any fairies have left their Kingdom… Tell me Elder. Did you catch the scent of one of those miscreants that just sped off?”

“Aye. Nothing gets past my troll nose sire.”

“Could you follow them and tell me where they go tonight? Take no action, just watch and then come sunrise send me a report through the mushrooms.”

“As you wish sire…”

There was a rumble and the slow scraping of claws on concrete, the troll slipped into the night and Bog returned to his store. He came out a moment later with a Cloak-vine root in hand, the moon wasn’t still at the highest point in the sky, but it would do. He knelt at the base of the store’s foundation and began the incantation. When he reached the part where he had to declare the name of the person to be kept away he hesitated.

“Cloak-vine, dark and ignored,
I implore you to use your gifts,
To obscure me in your leaves.
Whenever… male… fairies see me here,
May they see you first,
And think of better places to be.
Cloak-vine. Hide me from unwanted eyes.”

If Marianne returned, he could warn her to watch her back so he didn’t want the Cloak-vine convincing her to turn around and do something else with her day. Once finished he went inside and locked up again. He tried to sit and enjoy his movie and snack, hoping to drift to sleep. But he kept shaking himself out of furrowed brow bouts of staring into space. Eventually the sunlight touched the loft windows and Bog’s cell phone chimed with a text.

Mother: The Mushrooms have a message for you, “The fairies went to the 2nd Street Imperial Building. At dawn one left and went to Sugar Plum’s.” What the hell is going on Son?

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” Marianne said with an exasperated sigh.

“Exactly that,” Sunny said his arms folded as he stared up at the fairy princess. “I can’t tell you where I learned this info. I promised.”

“Fine. Then can you at least tell me a little bit more? All you’ve said is that there are Dark Fae sanctuaries in this city and I already suspected as much. Can you tell me where they are or who runs them.”

Sunny smiled and said, “Only when you follow through with your end of the bargain.”

Marianne rolled her eyes and took out her phone, tapped out a text, and hit send.

“There. I texted Dad that I needed Dawn’s help for the week,” Marianne said as she waited for a response. Her phone buzzed and after glancing at it said, “And he’s given his permission. I’m sure Dawn will be out here as soon as she gets a glamor ready. Happy, you little imp?”

Sunny’s nose wrinkled as he grinned and held out his hand. “Yup! Gimme your phone and I’ll put in the addresses.”

She handed it over and he starred a handful of locations on her Google Maps then turned it over, “There. Every place I was able to find. Some of them are Dark Fae Sanctuaries and some of them are people or glamoured Fae who are helping them.”

“And did you learn who is organizing all this? I need to have a chat with them.”

“You’ll never believe this,” Sunny looked around her living room as if to check there was no one around to hear then whispered, “It’s the Bog King!”

“What!?” Marianne exclaimed, “You mean the he wasn’t killed with the rest of his family when the goblins rebelled?”

“Apparently that never happened!” Sunny said, savoring every morsel of juicy gossip. “His father the Gorse King kicked it after the Humans ripped up most of the Dark Forest to build that suburb. Rumor has it that he tried to explain to the Humans what they were doing and he was treated like a nutcase. Got thrown in jail a couple times. When there wasn’t anything he could do, he just wasted away. The Bog Prince had barely grown into his wings when he was named the Bog King and took over what was left of the Dark Forest. Since then he and the Queen Mother have been keeping a low profile, but apparently he’s been building these sanctuaries for Dark Fae since then. And from everything I heard the goblins have never stopping being one-hundred-percent loyal to their royal family.”

“Seriously… Wow,” Marianne said as she gingerly sat down on the edge of the couch behind her. “That’s awful… I had no idea… Do you think my dad knew?”

“Would your dad have cared if he did?” Sunny said with a skeptical raised eyebrow.

Marianne sighed as she remembered all the lies she’d been told, especially by her father, regarding the Dark Forest, “You have a point.”

“Not to mention from what I heard during the construction the Gorse King was so desperate he went to your Grandfather who was king here at the time, and asked for help. You know since he was able to buy this land and protect us, I guess Gorse hoped he’d be willing to do something similar for the Dark Forest. Of course King Jonathan refused and Gorse wrecked up the palace good. So there’s a lot of bad juju between the royal houses, I doubt your dad, no offense, would be interested in healing that.”

“He wouldn’t be…” Marianne said with a frown. “Was there anything else?”

“Last thing I know is that the Bog King spends most of his time glamored. Goes by the name Booker King among Humans.”

“Booker King…” Marianne muttered as she swiftly looked over the stars on the map of the city on her phone. Sure enough one of them was in the same location as King’s Verdure & Vines - Obscure Flora Emporium. “Dammit!”

“What?” Sunny asked.

“I’ve met him! The Bog King! He’s the owner of that plant shop I told you about, the one that had my bike towed!” Marianne said as she slapped her palm against her forehead with a loud SMACK. “Of course he’s a Monarch! That’s really the only way he would be able to keep me from seeing through his glamor! Dammit, I’m such an idiot!”

Sunny chuckled and backed away from her while waving his hands, “Well I’m outtie. I’m not going to pretend to understand all that Monarch business you and Dawn are always going on about. So I’ll just see myself outside. Buh-bye!” Sunny said as he bounded toward the front door to wait for Dawn.

“Just keep those elf ears open. Kay?” Marianne called after him as she contemplated her next move.

“You got it!” Sunny said as he shot finger guns at her with a wink and then slammed the door carelessly behind him.

The Bog King… So he’s not dead and he’s looking after his people… That’s a good start I guess , Marianne thought. He might understand what I’m trying to do. But after learning about what happened to his father, no wonder he doesn’t like fairies. I’ll have to go about this carefully…

After sitting down at her laptop and Google-stalking the locations Sunny had given her, a bell chimed, alerting to her to someone at the door. Thinking it was either Dawn stopping by to say hi or Sunny with a tidbit of forgotten information, she rushed to the door and opened it with a smile. A smile which soured into a scowl.

“Whatdaya want,” Marianne snapped at one of Roland’s triplet goons. She cocked an eyebrow at the cast on his left arm, wishing she’d been the one to break his wrist.

“Roland wants to apologize,” he said, Marianne had never bothered learning the triplets’ names, few did. “But he can’t seem to find your house for some reason. Keeps ending up back at the road.”

A predatory grin spread across Marianne’s face as she glanced past the goon to see a golden-haired Adonis standing in the middle of the road with a handful of gifts and a completely stumped expression on his face.

“He can apologize all he wants,” she told the triplet as she grabbed her leather jacket and keys. “And I might even accept his apology someday if I believed it was sincere. But no amount of begging is going to get me to get back together with him. That ship has sailed and isn’t coming back.”

The twin pouted and said, “But he’s throwing a birthday party for you at his penthouse this weekend. Won’t you go?”

“Shit,” she muttered. She’d forgotten her birthday was coming up, and while she was looking forward to whatever surprise Dawn and Sunny were no doubt planning for her. She had no interest in spending her birthday with Roland. She threw on her jacket and backpack then barged out the door, nearly knocking the fairy underling over as she marched to her bike in the gravel driveway. “No I’m not going, and nothing you can say will convince me to spend my birthday with that jackass.”

She glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with Roland who could see her now. In one lithe movement she mounted her bike, revved it, and sped down the driveway past him.

“Buttercup!” he yelled after her, and she just grinned at the anger in his voice.

After a twenty minute drive she arrived in the lot behind King’s Verdure & Vines . She was pleased that the sickly and scared feeling she had gotten upon her first visit was no longer bothering her when she looked at the magical vine covered store. She must have broken its hold over her, though she was surprised that the grouchy shop owner hadn’t planted a Cloak-Vine with her name on it.

The fairy bells rang cheerfully when she entered the store. She expected a gravelly growl or groan from the tall and imposing Dark Fae Monarch. But he was nowhere to be seen. Instead there was only the two goblins she’d met on her previous visit. They were wearing black aprons and purple name-tags. The portly one in the hawaiian shirt was behind the bar and the scrawny, bug-eyed one was perched on top of a rickety step ladder trying to water a hanging baskets of unruly vines.

“What are you doing here?” The one behind the counter said, their name-tag said “Steph”.

“Well Steph I actually came to talk to B-” She barely stopped herself from using his real name. Marianne wasn’t sure she wanted them to know how much she knew about their operation or its leader. “Booker. Is he here?”

“No,” Steph said curtly before going back to the ledger on the counter in front of her.

Marianne looked up at the other goblin who was staring slackjawed at her. His name-tag said “Thane”.

“Is he going to be coming in today?” Marianne asked as she noticed an armchair in the corner and started to meander over to it.

“No,” Steph said again and with barely a glance up at the fairy asked, “What are you doing?”

Marianne took off her backpack and flopped down into the armchair. “Making myself comfortable. Mind if I do my homework here?”

With a deep-throated grunt of displeasure, Steph shut her ledger and said, “Only if you stay out of the way and buy more than twenty dollars worth of merch before you go.”

“Deal,” Marianne replied with a wide grin as she pulled her notebook out of her backpack and hunkered down to study.

“But,” Steph said with an almost whimsical smile as she stepped out from behind the bar and headed toward the Moon Room, “If you weasel out of a large purchase, I’ll rip your wings off.”

Marianne stared at the goblin as she retreated to the back room, and gulped once Steph was gone.

“Uh… Thane?”

“Yes miss?”

“Did she mean that last bit?”

Thane hopped down from the top of the step ladder, landing with a clumsy somersault that left him sprawled on the floor. “Oh yes miss! Fairy wings are an ancient delicacy. Legends say they give goblins the gift of fight… Though I think we can do that just fine without them… Actually, I’m not sure what the point would be…” He mused as he scratched his mop of mottled brown hair. “I don’t see why any of us would want to fight like a fairy…”

I think the legends say flight, not fight , Marianne thought, though she wasn’t going to say that to the harmless seeming goblin. Who knew if he would turn on her in exchange for wings.

Chapter Text

She was back. Lounging in his mother’s armchair as casual as can be, dainty nose buried in a textbook. The purple plushy chair was only there because Griselda hated standing behind the counter all day on the rare occasion she minded the store, and insisted they have a comfy place for her to sit, but if Bog had foreseen a fairy princess using it to permanently situate herself in his store he would have never bought it.

“What are you doin’ here Princess?” Bog grumbled as stalked behind the bar and pulled out Stuff’s ledger to check the day’s sales. He wasn’t exactly surprised to see her since he’d noticed her bike in the back lot, so he didn’t react more strongly than a stern look. In fact he was more surprised by the relief easing in chest when he saw her than her unexpected presence.

That’s just because those suspicious as fuck fairy guys had me worried for her safety, that’s all , he thought to himself with a frown.

Her shoulders jerked in a shrug, “Thought I’d hang out here for a bit.”

Bog scowled and hissed, “This isn’t a café Tough Girl. If you’re not going to buy something please don’t waste our time.”

“Like last time, I’ll buy something when I’m ready to leave,” she said as she pulled a binder from her bag, then she muttered, “Besides, I’ve got too much reading to do to get in your way much.”

Bog frowned at the rather entrenched fairy pest and decided she seemed legitimately busy enough to be only a mild annoyance. So he ignored her and went about his usual afternoon tasks.

“Steph! Thane! Go home,” Bog shouted at the unseen goblins.

“Yahoo,” Stuff said sarcastically from the loft.

Something got knocked over in the back room with a crashing of shattering glass.

Bog massaged his forehead at the sound and said, “Clean it up Thane. Would you help him Stuff? I think it was the Black Lake Tarantula Bloom.”

“On it BK,” Stuff said as she descended the stairs and hurried to the Moon Room.

After jotting down inventory notes based on Stuff’s sales numbers, he grabbed a spray bottle and a watering can from under the counter. He filled both at the sink and set at the laborious job of making sure everything in the store was watered and cared for properly. On days where he split shifts with Stuff and Thang they would water the easy stuff in the morning and he’d handle the care of the more finicky items in the afternoon.

Every now and again he’d check on the fairy. She seemed focused enough on her book so he tried not to distract her before reminding himself that she was the one intruding on his space. For a while he’d make as much noise going about his tasks as he could, huffing and growling, shuffling his feet and banging the water-can against tabletops, hoping she’d get annoyed and pack up to leave. But then he notice her book was a college textbook, and a twinge of familiar anxiety pierced Bog’s chest. He’d been there. School could be tough, and he hadn’t even been going for a degree.

Why is she here? Instead of somewhere meant for studying? Bog thought as he trickled water carefully over the leaves and tiny purple buds of a rather finicky kind of ground cover. Like a library. Or café. Or her own place.

The longer she stayed, pouring over a binder of notes now, the more frustratingly curious Bog became. Finally after Stuff and Thang left and he had finished his plant tending and cleaning up of the shop and had nothing left to do to distract himself from the fairy, he approached her. He loomed over where she lounged, long legs draped over the arm of the chair.

“Why are you here?”

Marianne glanced up from her book at him, her glittering eyes lingered on his for a moment before returning to her notes.

“Let’s just say I like the ambiance here,” Marianne said with pursed lips. “Besides you and your minions, there’s no one to distract me. Helps me think. And I’ve got midterms coming up and need to do some serious thinking.”

Bog’s frown deepened. He didn’t want her believing she could do this kind of thing to his shop without paying some kind of price. “What do I get out of letting you stay?”

Marianne looked up again with an impatient glare, “I said I’d buy something. Something expensive. Steph said that was okay.”

“What? I’m going to have to have a word with her… Fine, you can stay until closing,” Bog conceded, goblins didn’t go back on their word, even the word of an underling. He held up a finger, “Today.”

As Bog went back behind the counter Marianne grabbed her phone and checked the time with a frown. “Mr. King? You haven’t had a customer in here for the three hours I’ve been here. Is that normal?”

“Mmm,” Bog grunted in affirmation as he pulled a wooden stool and a book out from under the bar and sat down to read. “We have a few regulars that bulk order. That’s what keeps this place running.”

“Why do you bother keeping a storefront then? Why not just expand your bulk wholesale business and work mostly online?”

Bog raised an eyebrow at the nosy girl, “I’m not a fan of the internet. It’s still a bit beyond me… And stop telling me what to do with my business. Maybe I like having a store.”

“Sorry,” Marianne said, looking back at her binder. “I was just curious why someone like you bothers with all this.”

The comment hit Bog hard in the chest. What right did this fairy have to judge him? Bog bared his teeth and growled as he said, “Someone like me? Didn’t think a goblin could do something normal like run an honest business?”

“N-no! I didn’t mean!” Marianne said in a panic, “I just meant you’re obviously a pretty powerful Fae! And you’re at least decent at magic. You don’t often see that combination trying to make an honest living. That’s all I meant.”

Bog thought on that for a moment. It was true. Fae royalty like himself tended to use the upper hand they had over humans to position themselves into more comfortable situations. The Sugar Plum Fairy was one of the city’s most popular mystics, a sensation among the young people, she was never short on money or influence. The former king and queen of the Fairy Kingdom had somehow managed to buy a huge swath of land so the Kingdom could be protected and preserved and they could continue to live in comfort. And the Landfall King, Dark Fae ruler in the mountains on the far side of the city, now lived in a penthouse at the top of the tallest building in the city.

Even to her it’s obvious that I’m in more humble circumstances than most Fae of my caliber should be , he thought sullenly.

“I’m not inclined to play people,” Bog said after he’d thought about it. His book was suddenly very interesting and kept him from having to look into her enveloping, honest eyes. “And that’s what most Fae end up doing to thrive out here. Besides that I’m not… Charismatic enough to really appeal to most humans.”

“Ah,” Marianne said, “Just a sec.”

Bog glanced up from his book to see what she was doing, and subsequently rolled his eyes when he saw her hunched over her phone typing furiously with both thumbs.

Once finished with whatever she was doing, she grinned widely at her phone and then put it away. “Well Bog King, I think you’re a pretty decent guy.”

Bog’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. “How in the hell did ya get that impression?”

“Well you’re not nice or anything so don’t go getting the wrong idea,” Marianne said as she wrinkled her nose with a mischievous grin and one of her sparkling eyes twitched shut for a moment.

Did she just wink at me? Bog thought as he tried to keep his brain from shutting down. Wait… She just used my real name… Tough Girl is… kinda scary.

“But you’re honest and you care about your business and that’s really cool,” she said as she stood up and stretched languidly. Her long hands reaching for the tops of the ferns. She was wearing a halter-top that left her shoulders completely bare. Bog peeked past her glamor and saw a ghost image of her violet wings opening and closing as she stretched, like she’d just crawled from a chrysalis and she was trying to dry them before taking to the sky.  

“Uh-Ah,” Bog muttered as he looked quickly back at his book and Marianne started to gather up her books and notes.

Hmm, it’s a little warm in here , he thought, I should double check the thermostat.

“Soooo… How did you learn my name Tough Girl?” He asked without looking at her once he collected his thoughts a bit. “Did Thane let it slip?”

“Thane? No! He’s a clueless sweetheart but he wouldn’t give that away. Figured it out on my own,” Marianne said with a smile. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What would you say if I offered you my help?”

Bog’s pale eyes snapped up from his book to stare daggers and sneer at the fairy. He cracked his neck and growled, “I don’t need ‘help’ princess. I better not hear such things from you again.”

Marianne sighed, put her hands on the curves of her hips. It was a pose of pure determination and leadership, and completely unphased by Bog’s antagonism. She arched a critical eyebrow at him as she said, “I didn’t mean it that way and you know it. What I was going for was a fair trade of services. So. Hear me out?”

Bog’s stony expression didn’t budge, but he considered that maybe… maybe, she might have an interesting proposal.

She grinned at his willingness to at least listen, “I have the know-how and tools at my disposal to help you grow your business. I know you need the money to help support your Dark Fae Sanctuaries.”

A rumbling growl built in his chest and he fought the urge to jump from his stool and forcibly remove the fairy from his store. But business had been slow for a long time, and they were dipping into their savings to keep afloat. He couldn’t afford to lose the shop.

“What d’ya have in mind?” he growled, the hair bristling on the back of his neck.

Marianne grinned before grabbing a notebook from her bag and sauntering toward where Bog sat, her combat boots squeaking slightly on the tile floor. She leaned against the bar with the sly smile of one of those women who like to flirt with hot bartenders.

“Well for starters, I’m currently working toward my degree in landscape architecture. I know a lot of students and professors that are always looking for new plants to use in their projects. Daffodils and roses are so passe. I might have just sent out a message to most of them letting them know about your shop.”

Shit , he thought with a flinch, a new generation of humans that want to destroy Fae homes like my own are going to become my new customers… what new low is this?

Marianne pointed a finger at his nose and said, “I’m guessing that look is because you’re not exactly fond of human architects. After what your people have been through I suppose that distrust is deserved. But try to give these guys a fair shake. Most of my peers want to make less of an environmental impact, and design in harmony with nature unlike our predecessors. A few even know about the Fae and are on our side. So don’t write them all off.”

“I won’t make any promises,” Bog muttered.

Ignoring his grouchy statement Marianne kept talking, “In fact that’s exactly why I went into this degree. I don’t want my people to always either live separated from humans or hiding our true selves in glamors. Especially since only fairies and a few talented elves can even make glamors. The poor pixies, brownies and majority of the elves are stuck relying on the few fairies like myself willing to work with the humans for protection. I don’t want them to have to live in fear or ignorance of the outside world. I want to design buildings and parks where humans and Fae can live in harmony, even if the majority of humans don’t know it.”

Tough Girl keeps surprising me , Bog thought with a slow blink to process, I didn’t think she was any less self-centered and frivolous than most fairies. But she’s… different.

“That’s a lofty goal,” Bog said once his imagination had toyed with the future she envisioned. It was a beautiful place, but it was only a dream. “I’m not sure how you plan to pull it off.”

“Well that’s where your part of my trade proposal comes in,” Marianne said with a sparkling grin as she held up her notebook. Bog glanced at it’s leather cover and saw the magic in it. The notebook would only open for her, so it was probably where she kept notes that mentioned Fae, just in case a human got ahold of it.

Smart , he thought as he nodded in admiration at the magical craftsmanship.

She took out a pen and continued, “I know that you’ve been building and running these sanctuaries for years. And I know that your people are in much more immediate need for this kind of architectural innovation than mine, who are safe for the time being.”

She sure sounds confident about that , Bog thought as an old rock of resentment rolled across his soul.

“I’d be willing to help bring you new customers, set you up with a website, social media, and maybe arrange some guerilla marketing.”

“Gorilla? Why would a large ape know anything about marketing?” Bog asked with confusion.

Marianne looked at him again with that critical gaze that sparkled with a hint of humor. “You’re a goblin. You should know the difference between guerilla the war strategy and gorilla the animal.”

“Ah…” Bog said as the room got warmer and he muttered, “I just never heard it used in this context…”

“Bog you are such a dork,” Marianne said with a chuckle, “It’s just a kind of marketing campaign that I think would work well for your rather dark and unconventional business. Anyway, in exchange I’d like you to tell me more about the habitat needs of the Dark Fae you serve. What’s worked for your sanctuaries and what hasn’t? What are your biggest stumbling blocks? How do you handle relocation? I want to know as much as you’re willing to tell me, and in time I’d like to go over some designs with you once I learn more about what your people would need to not only live comfortably but actually thrive among the humans.”

She practically glittered with excitement as she chattered about logistics and planning nuances that would bore most people terribly. There was a passion in Marianne for the details that made the big picture work, and that was both admirable and unusual.

Bog took in her brilliance for a moment then said, “Well you’re… Different…”

“I’ve been told. Now do we have a deal Mr. Bog King?” Marianne said holding out her hand across the bar for him to shake.

“Not yet Tough Girl,” Bog said, smirk pulling his lips over his uneven teeth in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, as he stood from his seat and turned his back from her to put away his book. “I’ll have to think about this. Do some research. My kind have been lead astray more than once by fairies. At the moment ya know more about me than I know about you, and I’ll not waltz into a business arrangement with that kind of inequality hanging over m’head like a sword of Damocles. Got it?”

“That wasn’t an outright no, so I’m good,” Marianne said as she shrugged and stood tall with her hand on her hip again.

“Speaking of needing to know more,” Bog said as he turned back to her and leaned against the shelves, crossing his arms seriously. “I think you need to know that some miscreants broke into my shop a few days ago. You might be familiar with them.”

“What?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Yeah. Four fairies. A set of triplets and a really stupid blonde ringleader.”

“Roland…” Marianne growled through a clenched jaw. Then her eyes grew wide as she looked around the store, “That asshole! I am so sorry, did they break anything? I’ll make him pay for coming here and bothering you, I swear.”

Oh good , Bog thought with relief, She doesn’t associate with them by choice.

“Nothin’ was broken, they simply magicked the lock and wanted to look around. I was in the loft when they came in and overheard them talking about you. Sounds like you’re being followed.”  

Her eyes were on fire as she glared at nothing in particular and said in a tone that precedes a battle cry, “I’m going to kill him.”

“Be careful,” Bog said suddenly as he reached through the air toward her in an attempt to keep her from flying off in a fit of rage. A gesture he quickly dropped as he put his hands behind his back. “I-I mean… After I made them leave, I had them followed. The blonde one went to the Sugar Plum Fairy’s house that night.”

“So?” Marianne said as she stomped over to the chair and picked up her leather riding jacket.

“I think he may have asked her to make a love potion,” Bog said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “I got the feeling he’s a little obsessed with you. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Oh neither would I,” Marianne said with a derisive laugh. “He’s just desperate and stupid enough to try it.”

Bog suppressed a massive flinch and thought, Desperate and stupid are certainly right.

He nodded seriously in agreement as he folded his arms again. “My goblins try to keep her primroses from blooming but she finds ways to ship the stuff in…”

“Why do you bother doing that?” she asked as she flung her backpack over her shoulder.

“Because love is dangerous,” Bog said, he hadn’t had to think about that fateful day for a long time. He pushed the memory down as he finished his usual speech. “It rots away order. Plum’s love potion has caused too much chaos in my kingdom for me to allow it to continue.”

Marianne chuckled bitterly as her eyes turned to the ceiling. “‘Love is dangerous.’... well that’s certainly something you and I can agree on.”

There was a softness in her voice. An emotional ache that Bog could pick up on in the undertones of her voice.

“Marianne,” he said. His own voice was quiet and soft, it startled him. Clearing his throat to be rid of that softness he asked, “Where are you going?”

“Well it’s near time for you to close,” she said pointing at the shop hours which hung in the window, the golden light of evening dimming on the distant horizon into a perfectly clear night. “But besides that. I need to find a son-of-a-bitch named Roland Greenbriar.”

“Oh… Well,” Bog said as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. He had to admit he had enjoyed her company. Just a little. “You haven’t bought something like you promised.”

Marianne grinned and said, “Well unless it’s small I can’t exactly take it with me on my bike. Do you guys deliver with that little mo-ped of yours?”

“Uh… We can certainly try,” he said doubtfully, before shaking his head, “What am I thinking? Of course we can. We have a delivery van. I’ll just need the address.”

Marianne jotted it down for him and then proceeded to put together her order. Half a dozen plants later she was ready to leave again. As she strode toward the door, Bog walked out from around the counter to open it for her.

“Marianne?” He asked as she stepped past him and into the twilight.

“Yes?”

“You shouldn’t go after Roland alone… He has you outnumbered and if he does have the potion… It wouldn’t take much to find yourself in a bad situation,” he said.

I am not concerned for the safety of a stupid fairy , he thought to himself, I’m not.

Marianne’s full lips pulled sideways in a defeated smile, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Then her lips parted revealing a wide predatory grin that sent shivers down Bog’s spine. “But I’m stronger alone. He doesn’t know just how much he’s pissed me off, or how grave a mistake that is.”

Bog tried to look her in the eyes as he asked, “Are you going to look for him tonight?”

“Who are you? My dead mother?” Marianne asked flippantly. “I don’t have to tell you anything about my plans.”

“You’re right,” Bog said standing straight as he made a decision and pulled his keys from his pocket quickly.

I’ll be back later , he thought, I’ll lock up properly then.

But for the moment he closed the door behind him and locked the deadbolt. “You don’t have to tell me what your plans are.”

“Damn straight,” Marianne said with a smile.

“However, I’m offering you the opportunity to come to one of the ‘sanctuaries’ as you call them, with me tonight. It’s a one time offer,” Bog said with a wicked smile. He knew that she wouldn’t go after some fool fairy if the promise of exploration was on the table. Or at least, he hoped she wouldn’t.

She’s going to get herself dusted if she goes to confront this Roland character alone , he thought as he savored the lip-biting expression of conflict on the fairy’s face.

“Come on, Tough Girl,” he said under his breath with a sideways smile as he stepped past her and turned to see if she’d follow. "Think of it as an adventure."

“You’re evil,” she said as she shook her head and followed him.

“Oh you don’t want to mess around with me,” he said, pursing his lips to keep from grinning, “I most definitely am evil.”

They walked around the building to the parking lot, where Bog stopped short with a groan. His little yellow mo-ped sat squarely under the lamppost, almost glowing with it’s own internal sunshine. And a few spots down was Marianne’s dark and mysterious motorcycle, slinking in the shadows.

Marianne snickered again at the very unbecoming vehicle. “I think it’s cute,” she said once she cleared her throat of laughter.

“Well you better, because that’s what we’re going to be riding to get there,” Bog said with a tired grimace.

“Nope,” she said suddenly serious, and no longer finding the mo-ped adorable. “I’m taking my bike.”

Chapter Text

“This is ridiculous,” Marianne muttered as she sat behind Bog on his bright yellow little mo-ped.

“I know okay?” Bog growled with exasperation as he shook his head. The poor machine could barely transport their combined weight across the pavement faster than a normal pedal bike.

“Just saying,” Marianne said. “I don’t know why we couldn’t have gone separately.”

“Because my people are under orders to stop anyone who gets too close. And with your Harley you would certainly get there long before me.”

“Well you could’ve ridden with me,” Marianne grumbled. “I hate being the Back Warmer…”

“Maybe next time Tough Girl. But until I’m sure you’re a friend I’m not going to be putting my life in your hands. Now stop your whinging and let me drive.”

Marianne rolled her eyes and adjusted on the back of his seat. She wasn’t exactly willing to wrap her arms around the Bog King for stability, so she gripped the underside of the seat with her hands, that was the only fortunate thing about the mo-ped’s slow speed. As they rode she admired the angular lines of his back and shoulders through his collared shirt and vest.

Wow , she thought, for a beanpole, he’s actually kind of ripped.

Being so close to him she could easily tell that he was all lean muscle, and his thinness was probably a genetic trait rather than lack of activity.

She smiled a little as she thought, He might not have the body of a Greek statue, but his has more character in his hunched shoulders than Roland has in his whole being.

Then she shook her head as she reminded herself that Bog’s physical form was just a glamor. While usually the glamor reflected some physical traits from the true form, as powerful as Bog was, he could look like anything under it.

They were stopped at a light, the red glow of the stoplight shone off his mousy brown and grey hair and wrapped him in the vibrant danger of the night. The thought that he might not be what he seemed niggled at Marianne’s mind, so she pushed at his glamor, trying to peek through at the Fae beneath.

Bog’s shoulder tensed as he sensed what she was doing. She expected him to growl or snap at her for trying, but his reaction scared her more than if he had gotten mad. He spoke softly, barely loud enough for her to hear over the noise of traffic, and there was a deep ache of pain and magic in his voice.

“You’ll not want to be doin’ that Tough Girl. Ya won’t like what ya see.”

“S-sorry!” Marianne said quickly as she tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “It’s just not exactly fair is it? You can see through my glamor anytime you want. Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at my wings earlier.”

Bog shrugged, “Life’s not fair.”

Marianne rolled her eyes, no matter how curious she was about Bog’s true form, he wasn’t going to be revealing that secret anytime soon. She’d have to be satisfied with unraveling the Bog King’s mysteries at his pace.

“Well then Bog, how about you tell me about where we’re going while you kidnap me,” Marianne said loudly as the light turned green and the cars next to them sped by, engines growling at the tortoise pace of the mo-ped.

“I am NOT kidnapping you,” Bog said with a teasing smile, “Think I could possibly kidnap someone on this thing? That’s what the van’s for!”

Marianne snorted as she tried to restrain a laugh. “I have to admit, you’ve got a much better sense of humor than I thought you would.”

“I don’t normally. You caught me in a bad mood.”

Marianne snickered again, this time Bog glanced back at her, his expression close to amazement that she was still laughing at his acerbic wit.

“Anyway…” Bog said, “We’re going to what my people call The Greenhouse. It’s actually the warehouse where we grow the plants I sell in the shop.”

“Oh! And your people live there?” Marianne asked.

“Yeah,” Bog had to yell as they were turning onto a busy street headed toward the edge of town. “Used to be a granary storage warehouse on the edge of my kingdom. It had been abandoned since the Great Depression so we didn’t pay much attention to it. But it became the first place we sought refuge when construction started. My dad worked himself to death to earn enough so I could buy it.”

“Oh, I see…” Marianne said awkwardly, not sure how to respond to that information.

She rode in silence until the houses started thinning out and making way for relatively new warehouses and fenced off empty lots. Then he turned down an almost invisible side road, at the end was a large warehouse, brick almost completely enveloped by Cloak-Vine. There were also an awful lot of “Private Property: trespassers will be prosecuted” signs.

“Wait,” Marianne said suddenly wondering if she had made a very bad decision and she was going to end up dead and buried in a wall or something else equally unpleasant. “Uh… Won’t your goblins be more than a little upset by a fairy invading their home?”

Bog pulled up to the building and then grinned wickedly at Marianne as he parked the mo-ped. “Should ‘ave thought about that sooner Tough Girl,” Bog said as he hopped off the scooter and motioned for Marianne to follow him. “Normally I’d say that none of them are powerful enough to see through your glamor princess. But if Steph told Thane that you’re a fairy then all bets are off and he probably told everyone already.”

He walked up to a side door and opened it for Marianne and waited for her to go in. If she thought King’s Verdure & Vines looked like a jungle, she’d been woefully ignorant.

Sections of the warehouse floor had been ripped up so that huge trees could grow inside. Vines and thick carpets of moss covered everything, and she couldn’t even see the other side of the giant room because of the forest in the way. Skylights had been carved out of the roof high above them, but even with the help of that light, there had to be magic helping the plants grow so voraciously.

“Wow,” Marianne whispered under her breath. She glanced at Bog and while his expression was proud, there was an edge of sadness to it. The angular planes of his face expressed a noble strength, and the stalwart endurance to carry his people through the worst of times. But his baby blue eyes caught her attention. There was a softness there, a vulnerability born from struggle and uncertainty.

It hit her in the chest for the first time, Bog really was a king. More of a king than her father. More than any other Monarch she’d met at any of the royal functions she’d been forced to go to her entire life. His kingdom was small and weak, but that just made him stronger. He had to be the rock his people could lean on and he knew it. He gave them hope.

“What’re ya starin’ at Tough Girl,” Bog said as he turned his gaze down to her.

“Uh, nothing,” Marianne said as she looked away and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Sooo… show me around?”

“Right,” Bog said before leading her into the jungle. “Well there’s not a lot to this place. We grow and cultivate the plants that used to be in the Dark Forest as well as a few things that are popular in my store and fit easily enough into Dark Forest ecology. My people harvest them and then my mother, Thane, and Steph load the plants up in the van and take them to the store, or directly to our customers depending on the order. The stuff you ordered tonight will probably come from here. Except that one orchid, since you liked that one specifically.”

“Are Steph, Thane, and your mother the only other goblins that can glamor?”

“No. A lot can, but besides Thane and Steph they take other jobs around town. Mostly night jobs where they don’t have to interact with people much. While they can glamor, as you’ve seen from Thane, they’re not always very good at it.”

“Steph’s was good,” Marianne said trying to go easy on them.

“She’s is my right hand for a reason. On top of being incredibly competent, Steph’s also from a very old and powerful family, so she is a bit more of a natural with such things than most.”

“So there are Dark Fae out and about and I’ve just never noticed them?”

Bog glanced over his shoulder with a sly smile, “More than you’d expect.”

Marianne wasn’t sure if that made her feel better about the direction she wanted to take her kingdom or more paranoid. She was a Monarch too, and she hadn’t noticed an apparently obvious population of Fae already living among humans.

The path turned and opened up into a clearing of sorts. The sounds of talking, fighting, and singing suddenly quieted and she looked up. The trees surrounding the clearing had been latticed above it so their branches all knotted together, and built into the branches were hundreds of tiny dwellings made of mulch and moss of vibrant green or dull grey.

Marianne could suddenly feel all the tiny goblin eyes on her, but she wasn’t sure if they were malevolent or not.

“What’re you looking at? Don’t you have something you should be doing?” Bog said gruffly to his curious citizens. Then he nodded his head at Marianne, “This one isn’t a threat, at least not today.”

Slowly the chatter started back up. Marianne squinted up at the tree and saw little frog-like, beaky, and smooth mole-like goblins, most no bigger than her pinky finger, scrambling over the branches. It kind of looked like they were all leaving homes made from burls and bark to go to work. Some carried little baskets of plant cuttings or seeds, others had climbing tools or contraptions Marianne could only imagine were used for looking after the plants in their care.

“Are they nocturnal?” Marianne asked as she ran to catch up with Bog who’d started off across the courtyard.

“Aye,” He said as he approached a table with flowers that had been removed from the soil but had yet to be potted. “Most Dark Fae are. My mother and I and the others that mind the shop have had to learn to sleep at night. It’s… not natural for us.”

Then he turned his head around looking for someone. “Brutus! Where is he? Brutus! Why are these skeleton flowers just sittin’ here?”

“Oh don’t blame dear old Brutus for that mess,” said a nasally voice in what resembled a jersey accent.

Bog’s shoulders hunched in response to the voice and he muttered under his breath, “Oh gods… I thought that she stayed home tonight.”

A petite older woman stumbled out from behind a bush with another skeleton flower plant in her hands. She was quite short, almost half Bog’s height. Her wiry red hair was cut in a rough chin-length bob and she had a wide toothy smile and squinty dark eyes.

“Son!” she said with a grin, “When I said you should try meeting a nice girl, I didn’t mean give away all our secrets! You’re gonna have to throw her in the dungeon now!”

Marianne could tell the woman was joking and couldn’t care less that Marianne was there. But Marianne had to keep from giggling that this small and somewhat comical woman was Bog’s mother. She didn’t want to offend the former Queen of the Dark Forest.

“I kid! I kid!” she said as she approached Marianne for a hug, “Griselda dear! And don’t you have a comb?”

Marianne smiled awkwardly, her hair was always kind of wild, not much to be done about it. She wasn’t used to being mothered, her own had died when she was very young.

“Uh, I’m Marianne. And I do actually, but no matter what I do it ends up like this.”

“Don’t mind mother,” Bog said quickly apologizing for his mother's very blunt behavior.

“Don’t you, ‘don’t mind mother’ me Son!” Griselda said as she spun around to waggle a finger at her son. “Is this your girlfriend? Have you finally stopped being a grouchy bachelor? Has my little boy finally found love?”

Bog stared, slack jawed and horrified at his mother. Bog was easily in his late thirties, possibly older because Marianne had no idea if Dark Fae aged differently than Light Fae, and his mother was scolding him like he was still a teenager. Though Marianne could already tell that Griselda was just that kind of mom. The kind that would always mother her son, no matter his age or status.

Then she turned around to Marianne, “He better be treating you right! If he does anything out of line let me know. He can be such smarmy brat sometimes.”

“Well,” Marianne said looking at Bog with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Bog mouthed the word “No!” as he fathomed her expression.

“He did have my bike towed,” Marianne said trying to sound disappointed instead of gleeful, “Had to pay a lot to get it out of impound.”

“BOG!” Griselda said turning on her son, “Why did you have your girlfriend’s bike towed? That’s the biggest jerk move you could have done! Was it some kind of twisted power play? I thought I raised you better!”

“Mom!” Bog said as he took a step back. “I didn’t even know her yet, she was parked behind the store and didn’t come in to buy anything. You know I do that to everyone! And she’s not my girlfriend!”

“Ah!” Griselda said as she turned around and fake whispered to Marianne with a knowing wink, “Friends with benefits then? I understand that completely. That’s actually how Bog’s father and I started. Couldn’t keep his hands off me, but I wasn’t ready to settle down. I can’t say how disappointed I am that Bog inherited my stubborn youthful pigheadedness.”

“MOTHER!” Bog shouted. He was blushing fiercely and looked about ready to die from embarrassment. “It’s not anything like that! This is only the second time I’ve met Marianne, and if you let me talk for thirty seconds, I could tell you that she and I have a business arrangement, it has nothing to do with that relationship and love nonsense.”

“Hrmph,” Griselda grumbled as she jutted out her non-existent chin. “Well whatever you say Son. And Marianne dear?”

“Uh, yes?” Marianne said nervously. Griselda was like a tiny hurricane, and Marianne did not want to get on her bad side.

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll warm up to you. Try rubbing his back, that always did the trick for Gorse. After a little massage he wouldn’t be able to get sex off the mind.”

“MOM! I don’t want to hear anymore!” Bog protested. Suddenly he was behind Marianne. His long fingered hands grabbed her shoulders and firmly turned her away from his mother. “Let’s go… over here Marianne.”

“I have no idea how I raised such a prudish son,” Griselda muttered as Bog steered Marianne out of the courtyard and down another side path. Once they were away from Griselda Bog released Marianne’s shoulders and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, hunching his shoulder with disgruntled embarrassment.

“Ugh…” he growled, “Sorry about Mother. She… uh… she’s a little baby crazy I think. She wants me to settle down and give her grandkids.”

“Oh believe me, I understand what that’s like,” Marianne said with a peeved eye roll as she folded her arms. “My dad keeps trying to set me up with prospectives. Including my ex, which is NEVER going to happen.”

“Ah… Parents, right?” Bog said awkwardly before gesturing to the path. “Shall we continue with the tour?”

“Sure!” Besides the village in the trees she’d yet to see much of their operation up close.

“So what changes did you have to make to the building to get this all to work?” Marianne asked taking out her notebook and sketching a rough layout of what she’d seen so far.

Bog watched her sketch suspiciously, but ultimately answered her question amicably. “Well, we had to knock out skylights first, nothing would have been able to grow in here until we did that.”

“What else?” Marianne asked as she ventured off the path cautiously to look at a sprinkler system carefully arranged around a bed of Venus flytraps.

“Next was figuring out water. When we first took over this building it was abandoned, and the water wasn’t hooked up. We started off with collection barrels on the roof which drained into a sprinkler system I installed in the ceiling. Meant it would rain inside when it was raining outside. Fortunately most of the goblins that live here were from the wetter part of the forest and didn’t mind.”

“Do you still have those set up? I’d love to see them,” Marianne said with a grin. She had been considering water needs for her people, and had been working on a similar system, though admittedly not on such a large scale.

“Uh, sure. We can go up to the roof after the tour,” Bog muttered. He honestly looked surprised that Marianne was hanging on his every word, jotting notes in a fairy short-hand.

“Was drainage a problem?” Marianne asked.

“A bit yeah,” Bog said with a chuckle as he scratched the back of his head. “Monsoon season came and the place nearly flooded. I didn’t realize the water needed somewhere to go.”

Marianne smiled at the thought of goblins on little rafts as the warehouse filled with water. Bog would have been barely a kid at the time she could almost imagine a gangly pre-teen Bog trying to figure these things out.

“Did you have to drill drains or put in plumbing?” Marianne asked.

“Yeah, in some places. It got easier when we were able to put in the trees, they soak up most of what gets wasted. However with the insane rainstorms we been having the last few years, I installed a mechanism that will turn off the sprinklers and drain the rainwater into storage barrels at ground level. Those drain to the street if they overfill.”

“Wow, you thought of everything!” Marianne said with a wide grin.

Bog smiled awkwardly and turned her attention to the vines hanging from the ceiling. Goblins were climbing all up and down it as they traveled to the metal rafters, like a green highway to the sky. They continued to talk about the nuances and mechanics of running the Greenhouse for a long time as they wandered through the vibrant forest. After a while their conversation turned to the specific trials of Dark Fae.

“So,” Marianne said as she put away her notebook. They’d made at least five loops through the Greenhouse, and besides heading to the roof, there was little left for her to see. “Iron burns you. Truth or myth?”

“Myth,” Bog said with a chuckle. “My royal scepter is raw iron actually.”

“Thought so, it’d be nearly impossible for you to interact with humans if it was true.”

“I do think that myth was born from a grain of truth,” Bog said amicably as he strolled slowly next to the fairy. “Or a misunderstanding of truth.”

“We’ve never been very good at metalsmithing. My scepter and the royal crown are the only metal artifacts made by the Dark Forest goblins as far as I know. And the artisan that made them died hundreds of years ago. Any other metal objects we had before coming here were all things discarded by humans and re-purposed. Nails for doorknobs, safety pins for tools, that sort of thing.”

“The elves in my kingdom did something similar. So why did you never learn any smithing?” Marianne asked. Smiths were still highly respected artists for they made the beautifully intricate armor, weapons, and decorations iconic to fairy culture.

Bog looked at her like the answer was obvious. “We don’t have any ore under the Dark Forest. Or at least very little. Your people took up smithing because of the ore under your kingdom. Without that, there wouldn’t be much point would there?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Marianne said with an eyeroll at her own naiveté. “So. Let's talk more about business. In the next year, what do you want to accomplish?”

“What is this? A job interview?” Bog said with a chuckle.

“Yes. Well kinda,” Marianne said, wrinkling her nose with a smile. “If I’m going to help you with your store, I need to know where you want to go with it.”

“Ah,” Bog thought for a moment. “Well assuming we get more revenue coming in, I’d love to buy the shop next door to mine. I’d expand the store a bit and then Mum could use the rest to sell her new-agey spells, jewelry, and totems. Her stuff is at least as good as Plum’s. And I’d love to give that damn sugary tart a run for her money.”

“Really? Your mom doesn’t have the magic accent though! I thought it was difficult to be a spellmaker if you didn’t learn the Old Language first!”

“It is,” Bog said with a smug sideways look, “But if you’ve ever met Plum, you’d notice she doesn’t have the accent either.”

“NO!” Marianne said, her jaw dropping. She’d never met the Sugar Plum Fairy, she typically tried to avoid such saccharine sparkly people. But it was considered fact that the Sugar Plum Fairy and other sprites such as herself were inherently magical creatures, and were so steeped in the Old Magic that they were born knowing the Old Language.

“Yes,” the smirk on Bog’s face was so crooked and wicked, “She learned it at the same time as my mom. They had the same teacher. Though they go about magic in very different ways that’s for sure.”

“Well I think expansion would be a good business move, especially if you add some inventory that will attract more than rare plant enthusiasts. What kind of jewelry does she make?”

“Actually my people make it. She just taught them how and gets them the supplies,” Bog said with a proud smile. Then he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt a little to reveal a simple bracelet. It was a black band of braided leather wrapped securely about a smooth pebble of golden amber set in a bronze ring. With a closer look she noticed goblin runes pressed into the leather.

“Wow,” Marianne said, “This is really cool! I’ve never seen jewelry like this with amber before!”

“That’s one reason I want Mother to have a store to sell their creations. We might not be able to metalsmith, but we turn tree sap into amber overnight. It’s a gift among Dark Forest goblins,” Bog said as he smiled warmly at the bracelet. He was like a proud father, heart-warmed by the handmade gift of his young children.

Marianne's face blushed as she thought, Man, that's hot.

“Kinda like turning straw into gold?” She said with a humorous grin trying to keep the conversation away from her pink cheeks.

Bog rolled down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. “That’s plains imps, not forest goblins. Besides, this isn’t exactly transmutation is it? Tree sap becomes amber eventually on its own. We just help it along.”

“You do realize you could make a good amount off your amber, right?” Marianne asked. “Stuff goes for a pretty penny. Especially if you can get pieces with bugs caught in it.”

“We actually try to avoid letting bugs or plant matter get into the amber, it kind of gets weird when we age it,” Bog said. “And I haven’t been comfortable selling our amber raw. That’s probably the best way to monetize it but… It’s unique, and if anyone’s going to make art out of it, it should be us. You know?”

“So you’ve never sold it before?”

“I do from time to time… When we’re really strapped for cash. But I hate doing it. There’s a lot of lying involved in selling to jewelers.”

“Why?”

“They inevitably ask where I get it from. I have to really know my stuff to get it right. The golden shades are Baltic amber. The blue amber was from the Dominican Republic. It’s not something I’m comfortable doing.”

“And you can’t exactly tell them that it was made by a colony of goblins with time manipulation powers,” Marianne said with an understanding nod.

“Yeah. It’d be easier to just sell it myself, then I wouldn’t have to lie too much,” Bog said, then he gestured to a side door. “Anyway. Want to go to the roof?”

“Sure!” Marianne said with a happy bounce toward the door. She practically flew up the steel spiral staircase. “I love roofs. I know that sounds weird.”

“Yeah just a bit,” Bog said with a teasing smirk as he followed behind her.

"There's just something empowering about looking out over the world from above," she said as she reached the top of the stairs.

She burst through the door at the top and her breath escaped her at the sight. Raised flowerbeds of night blooming plants were beginning to open, fireflies danced through the air, and light glowed up through the skylights, and beyond that was the City. Shining. Twinkling. Endless.

“Woah, this is beautiful,” Marianne sighed. Then she took a deep breath and spread her arms wide, taking in the night. “Being up here just makes me want to ditch the glamor and go for a long flight.”

Bog smiled at the glittering twilight, “Yeah.”

“You’ve really built something amazing here Bog.”

“Heh,” he rubbed his neck with an embarrassed blush, "Thank you for giving me the excuse to enjoy it for once. I've been so busy I haven't come up here in years."

They stood looking over the garden for a long time. They didn’t speak. Instead they just wandered through the rooftop garden, enjoying the quiet company and soaking in the dark atmosphere of a late-spring night. After Bog showed her some of the mechanical aspects like the water collection tanks and skylight installations they regretfully returned downstairs. Then Bog insisted it was time for him to take her back to the store so she could go home.

“Aw! I don’t want to!” Marianne pouted.

“Too damn bad,” Bog said with a smile as he guided her toward the door to leave. “I have a lot to get done tonight, and I can’t if I’m babysitting you. So time to go home.”

“Babysitting!?”

During the ride back to the shop, instead of holding onto the seat Marianne took a risk, and wrapped her arms around Bog's torso. Pressing her chest against his lean back. He stiffened awkwardly when she did it, but he didn't tell her to stop. They rode back to the store in silence.

When she hopped off his mo-ped she reached her hand out to him for a handshake. "Thank you for the adventure tonight Bog."

He hesitantly shook her hand and said, "You're welcome Tough Girl. Now... Go away. I have work to do."

Marianne chucked at his abrasive teasing. "You are a huge dork Mr. Bog King."

Bog blushed again as he scowled, "Shoo."

Marianne laughed, and turned to leave, waving as she rode out of the parking lot. The way home was filled with thoughts of goblins and gardens. It wasn't until she'd gotten inside her cottage and flopped down in front of the TV that she remembered a certain fairy asshole who deserved a beating.

"Dammit!" she shouted at the world. "Well played Bog. Keeping me happy and distracted so I wouldn't go after Roland... Well... I'm already home... Yeah... Ass-kicking will have to wait."

Chapter Text

“So,” Griselda said very directly. “Who is she?” 

Bog groaned and closed his book as he said, “Mother. She’s just an acquaintance. But she’s offered to help with the store in exchange for some information about how we live in an urban environment.”

“Why does she want to know something boring like that?” Griselda asked, putting down her knitting so she could take a sip of her tea.

“She’s studying eco-architecture and wants to design buildings where fae and humans can cohabitate.”

Griselda nodded in mild approval of Marianne’s priorities. “What’s she going to do for the shop?”

Bog shrugged and opened his book again, “I think she’s going to set up a website and manage social media for a while. You know I’m no good at that stuff.”

Griselda seemed satisfied until she said with a sly grin, “Well, she seems to be a smart cookie for a Monarch. A fairy Monarch at that! After the last time, I never thought you would have the guts to set your sights that high. I’m proud of you!”

“For the last time. Mother. We are. Not. Together,” Bog said slowly so his mother might actually listen. “And I seriously doubt that will ever happen.”

“So there’s hope!” She said with an annoyingly cheerful smile as she returned to knitting a ginormous mucus green unrecognizable mound of yarn she’d been working on for months.

Bog could only sigh dramatically in response and bury his face in his book. He knew it would seem like he was trying to hide the blush in his cheeks. Which wasn’t there at all. 

The living room of his mother’s house had a life of its own at three in the morning. An activity he usually missed because he was passed out on the couch, all but dead to the world. Bog had finished all his usual errands, but since he’d spent most of the early evening with Marianne, he didn’t have time to go back to his loft before needing to crash. However for some reason he wasn’t tired enough to sleep. 

His mother sat in her recliner, her bunny-slippered feet in the air as she knit and watched her dramas, volume turned very low so Bog could sleep through it. He could hear the goblins in the walls and under the floors. The house hummed with their tiny chatter. 

After a minute a large rock goblin came out of what was supposed to be Bog’s room. He looked like a four-hundred pound, bald, pockmarked sumo wrestler dressed in a gray hoodie/sweatpants set that was reminiscent of pachyderm hide.

“Hey boss!” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Does this look better?”

Bog considered for a moment that the goblin’s last attempt at a glamor had ended up being a literal boulder, and rather useless for working security at a recycling complex. “Much better Stiles. I assume they’ll be giving you a uniform right?”

“Yep,” Stiles said, “That’s why I didn’t think the sweatsuit would be a big deal. And they have changing rooms.”

“Good thinking,” Bog said. “Now off with ya, or you’ll be late. Good luck.”

“Thanks. See ya,” Stiles said before stomping out the door. 

Bog glanced down to his very technical book on electrical systems but, no surprise, it was failing to interest him much. He had no idea how he was still conscious, or what to do with his unusual energy. He discarded his book on the thrifted coffee table and got up. He stretched, his long fingers trailing along the rough textured ceiling. 

“Going back to the shop after all?” Griselda asked. 

“Nah,” He said, flopping his lanky arms back to his sides, “Just going to the roof.”

“I’ll never understand that, Gorse was the same. Always trying to get to the top of any tree or building.”

“Side effect of having wings Mother. I’d go for a flight, but I don’t want to have to redo my glamor.”

“Fair enough,” Griselda said, “Just don’t fall off and break your neck.”

“I’ll be fine Mother,” Bog said as he rolled his eyes and headed out to the porch. “I can certainly survive a ten foot fall.”

Griselda only tsked in response as he made for the backdoor through the kitchen where a concoction reminiscent of algae and hamhock simmered on the stove.

The early morning dark was always so still, even here in the bustling city. After a deep breath, filling his lungs with night, he deftly pulled himself up to the top of the garden wall, and from there alighted on the shabby patchwork roof he’d repaired himself countless times. 

Sitting in his favorite spot, he looked to the sky. It was just dark enough to see a few stars through the city’s light-haze. Unlike the last time he mused on the night sky, the faint glimmer of stars made him smile.