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Somewhere, deep down inside, Sasha Waybright knows he's always been the problem.
Especially now, at 30 years old, as he packs his few essentials into his beat up old convertible, he’s certain he's the problem.
Because he's been in love with his two best friends for decades.
Because two years ago, California finally legalized polyamorous marriage.
And because, despite all that, he just called off his wedding with Anne and Marcy.
It's 3 in the morning and Anne and Marcy are both fast asleep when Sasha sneaks out of the home they’ve built together. He hates that he has to do it like this, but he knows if he ever tried to do this in person he'd cave immediately. Instead all he's left behind is a note on the kitchen counter—as heartfelt an apology as he can muster.
He’s a timebomb, ticking away, waiting for the moment to destroy everything he loves. Now the clock is steadily reaching zero, and he'll be damned if he lets Anne and Marcy be tied to him when he finally goes off.
As he pulls out onto the road, he feels the cool pre-dawn air whip his face, wiping his tears from his eyes for him. This is for the better, he tells himself as he heads out towards his destination: the desert on the outskirts of LA.
25 Years Ago
It was in the dying days of summer, right before she was about to start first grade, for the first time she was excited to start the new school year—she’d switched schools and now she got to school with Anne and Marcy. It had taken weeks of begging, countless tantrums, and at least one broken dish, but eventually her parents finally agreed.
So Sasha was in a particularly good mood that day, especially since her dad was finally home again! He’d been gone on so many trips lately, but when he came back from this one he’d told Sasha he’d bring her out shopping and then he’d treat her to her favourite cake, medovik.
Sasha loved the various Russian desserts her father had introduced to her; in particular, she loved medovik. She’d tried it once at her cousin’s wedding and fell in love with it, and every birthday since she’d insisted on that being her birthday cake.
She’d seen her dad baking all through yesterday and it took everything in her not to beg him to let her eat it right then and there, but she was good. She waited patiently until her dad said it would be ready. So as soon as they pulled into the driveway Sasha nearly leapt from the car and bounded towards the kitchen.
As Sasha waited at the kitchen table, swinging her legs and beaming as her dad brought the cake out of the fridge, a sudden thought struck her. “Daddy!! Can you bake me this cake when I marry Anne and Marcy?”
Her dad nearly dropped the cake at the question. “I’m sorry sweetie, what?”
“When I marry Anne and Marcy! I wanna have my favourite cake when I marry them!” Sasha smiled widely at her dad.
He laughed. “Well sweetie, if you do marry them…then sure.”
“Yay!”
It was the happiest day of Sasha’s life until that point. Everything seemed to be going right for her; she had two new best friends that she was going to marry one day, her dad was home again, and she got to have medovik when it wasn’t even her birthday.
“Sasha…” Her dad’s voice suddenly sounded serious, like she was in trouble. Sasha stopped eating and stared at him.
“Sasha, after today I won’t be…I won’t be living here anymore.”
“What? Did we get a new house?” Sasha breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t in trouble, but she was still confused about why her dad was so serious.
Her dad sighed, covering his mouth as he said, “No sweetie, your mommy and I had a talk and we decided to not be married anymore, so daddy is going to live somewhere else from now on.”
“What? Why?” A growing sense of confusion and frustration grew inside Sasha as she tried to understand how someone could choose to get unmarried. When she married Anne and Marcy she knew she’d never want to un-marry them.
A strange look appeared on her dad’s face, like he’d done something wrong. “Sometimes when grown-ups get married, they—they decide they don’t want to be married anymore. We’ll both always still be your mommy and daddy but…just not together. Do you understand sweetie?”
“But that’s dumb! Don’t you still love each other?”
Sasha’s dad paused, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing his temples. “Sometimes…sometimes even if people love each other very much it isn’t—it isn’t enough.”
Sasha didn’t understand this. She refused to understand it. She, Anne, and Marcy loved each other, so that meant they would be together forever. “But that makes no sense!!”
Sasha's dad sighed and tried to pull Sasha in for a hug. She refused, getting out of her chair and taking a step back. Even at that age she recognized the hurt in his eyes.
“Families don’t always make sense, Sasha. That’s just how it works sometimes.”
“Then families are stupid!”
“Language…” His attempt at discipline fell flat, his voice meek and trailing off as Sasha stormed away to her room, her medovik left half-eaten on the table.
That was the last time Sasha’s dad ever set foot in that house.
From then on, Sasha despised Russian sweets.
Most of all she despised medovik.
The cool, dry desert whips past Sasha as he pulls up to the gates of the FBI compound a few miles outside LA. Specks of sand pepper his face, each tiny bite of pain feeling like a reprisal for the agony he knows he’s going to cause his loves as soon as they wake. He embraces it, the coward that he is. He’s always been able to handle this kind of pain far better.
“Excuse me sir, ma’am…uh…” Sasha turns to the guard on duty, broken from his misery by the small joy of the guard being completely perplexed by his gender.
“‘Sir’ is fine.”
“Uh, okay. Sir, what’s your business here? This is a restricted area for members of the public. Unless you have the proper ID, I’m going to have to ask you—”
“Here.” Sasha produces his ID, one of a set of three granting special access to the normally restricted area. “I have business with the ‘power generator’ here.”
The guard looks over the ID and nods before opening the gate. “It all checks out. Weird hour to be visiting though.”
“Yep!” Sasha puts on his best fake smile and says nothing else to the guard. Small talk is the least of his worries right now.
Sasha pulls his car into his usual spot and unpacks the few belongings he brought with him—his two swords and his armour, newly forged for his now adult size, a few clothes, and his engagement ring, strung onto a chain and worn around his neck. It doesn’t feel right, wearing it on his hand while doing what he’s about to do, and yet he can’t find it in him to leave it behind.
Following the familiar route through the labyrinthine halls of the government facility, he turns a few heads, though no one stops him. When he finally reaches the portal room he strolls in as if he’s supposed to be there.
“Sasha?” Terri is at the console, tinkering away. Whether they’re here early or late is anyone’s guess.
Sasha nods, attaching the two scabbards to his belt. “Morning Terri. I have some business with Ambassador Grime.”
They narrow their eyes. “That’s nowhere on the mission manifest.”
“It’s uh. Personal,” Sasha lies through his teeth. He was hoping no one would question him. “It wouldn’t be on official records.”
Terri eyes him for a moment, then shrugs before going to activate the portal. “I guess you, Anne, and Marcy are allowed to use the portal for personal reasons.”
Sasha breathes a sigh of relief as the white light of the portal fills the room. He steps onto the platform but pauses for a moment. His legs shake with trepidation as he stands at the precipice of all of his bad decisions.
“We’ll let Anne and Marcy know you’ve headed over,” Terri suddenly says, just as Sasha’s about to step over the threshold.
He stops dead in his tracks. “What?”
Terri gives him an odd look. “They are written down as your primary emergency contacts. We always let your emergency contacts know when you’re off-world.”
“No!” Sasha clears his throat and repeats himself with less urgency. “No, they’re uh. I already told them.”
Terri narrows their eyes suspiciously and asks, “Should we contact your next-of-kin instead? Your mother?”
This makes Sasha scoff as he turns back towards the portal. “Sure, do that.”
Just before he steps through the portal he thinks, bitterly, “It's not like she can drag me back. I don't exactly live under her roof anymore.”
20 Years Ago
“Sasha. Stop moving your head.” Sasha’s mom firmly moved her daughter’s head back into position, the dye brush full of hair bleach dripping onto the apron.
“But mom, this stuff smells so bad. Do we have to do this?” Sasha whined. She tried and failed once again to hold her breath while her mom bleached her hair.
She hated this. It was so much work, her mom always seemed annoyed whenever they did this, and it always felt and smelled so gross. She didn’t even understand why her mom wanted to change her hair colour. Sasha liked the way it looked, fading as she got older from the bright blonde she had as a baby, to the darker, almost brown colour that her mom has bleached away countless times now.
“Yes, Sasha, we have to do this,” her mom insisted. Finally she seemed to be satisfied with her work as she took a step back. “Okay, you can go play for half an hour after mommy wraps this up, then we’ll dye your hair this pretty blonde.”
Her mom held up the dye. The smile of the woman on the box felt like it was mocking Sasha, telling her how happy she should be to look like her. Anger and resentment boiled over and she knocked the box from her mother’s hands.
“It’s not a pretty blonde! I hate this! Why can’t you just let my hair be the way it is!”
“Sasha!” Her mother picked up the box and glared at her daughter. The icy dread of fear filled Sasha's entire body as her mother approached and stood over her. “How dare you talk to me like that?”
“I don’t get it! Why do you hate my hair so much!”
“We are not discussing this young la—”
“Is it because it looks like dad’s!?”
The air in the room dropped by several degrees. Sasha’s mom closed her eyes before placing the box of dye on the bathroom counter.
“You’re under my roof.” Sasha's mother said, her voice low and intimidating. “If you want to look like your father so much then why don’t you just live with him?”
“No! Mom that’s—that’s not what I meant!” Sasha began to panic. The cold seriousness in her mother’s voice made her seriously think, in her 10-year old brain, that she was about to kick her out.
“You want to stay here? Then you’ll do what I say. We’re dyeing your hair so it won’t be that hideous dirty blonde anymore,” Sasha’s mom continued, having regained her composure. She finished with a cold and final, “End. Of. Discussion.”
When Sasha crosses over into Amphibia the sun has just dipped below the cold, grey mountains of Frog Valley. Across Wartwood, townsfolk begin to close up shop, wrap up their days, and head home.
They’re used to the sight of Sasha by now—even the younger frogs who never knew the resistance days barely bat an eye at the enormous, gangly creature with two swords at his hip. Sasha supposes his reputation precedes him; the older townsfolk certainly remember him, some of them even salute him as he passes by.
He isn’t here for heartfelt nostalgia though.
“So let me get this straight.” Grime facepalms as he sits at his dining room table, closing his one good eye, and sighing. “You’re getting married in a week.”
“Supposed to be.”
“And you’ve decided to call it off because you think you’re going to mess it all up.”
“It’s just…I just don’t think it’s gonna work out.”
“Riiight. And you want me to help you figure out…” Grime waves his hand vaguely in Sasha’s direction, “...all this.”
“Or, y’know, give me a place to crash while I figure stuff out.”
“No need!” Grime suddenly exclaims as he stands up and lumbers towards a suspiciously tall cabinet that sits next to his dining table. “I know exactly how to fix all your problems.”
“...you do?” Sasha can’t help but be skeptical of whatever scheme is going through Grime’s head.
“Living on Earth has made you soft!” he says with absolute certainty. “What you need is something to help you steel your heart. You need to figure out your issues the Toad way.”
Grime opens the cabinet and pulls out what is possibly the biggest sword Sasha has ever seen. It’s easily taller than Grime. It’s easily taller than Sasha.
“I had this weapon specially forged.” Grime grins widely with that terrifying, withering smile, before suddenly taking a more sombre tone. “I’ve gotten reports from the Tower, Sasha. A new heron has made the valley its home. It’s young but it’s mean, probably an offspring of the old herons. Wartwood doesn’t know about it yet and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Grime holds the sheathed sword toward Sasha. “What do you say, lieutenant? Nothing like a good heron hunt to make you think about what really matters in life.”
Sasha looks from the sword, then to Grime, and back.
Is he seriously doing this, running from his fiancées in the dead of night to go on what could amount to a suicide mission? Just a few days ago he was thrilled to get married, to spend the rest of his life with the two people who mean everything to him.
People get cold feet all the time. Maybe that’s all this is. He could turn around now, pretend none of this ever happened, and say he was just driving around the streets of LA for some night air. And then he’d marry Anne and Marcy in a week.
It’s what his heart wants him to do.
Sasha pulls the sword from its scabbard. It’s well crafted, balanced, and polished to a mirror sheen. As he inspects the sword he turns it in his hand and catches his reflection in its blade.
Right. That was why he ran away.
“I’ll do it.”
19 Years Ago
“Sasha, it’s been a while, maybe you should just go back to your mom’s…” Anne fretted, checking her phone for the time.
“No, absolutely not,” Sasha said emphatically. Every second under her mother’s controlling thumb was like suffocation. Better to wait here, with people who loved her.
Marcy leaned her head on Sasha’s shoulder. “Maybe you could call your dad?”
Sasha put on a brave face. “No, Marcy. He said so himself, he’s looking forward to having me for the weekend. He didn’t forget about me.”
Sasha waited in the school parking lot for her father for almost six hours, her last shreds of hope waning with every hour that passed. At the very least she was with Anne and Marcy—when she was with her girls everything felt better. She could forget about her shitty mom and all her rules for who Sasha could and couldn’t be, and she could forget about the fact that she was still waiting for her dad.
Eventually, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Marcy checked the time and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sashy. I gotta go, my curfew is soon.”
“Ugh fine, whatever. Just ditch me then,” Sasha muttered, pouting as she pulled her knees to her chest.
“Sorry Sashy! If I don’t get home soon my parents will kill me,” Marcy flashed one last apologetic smile before heading towards her house.
“I gotta go too Sash, I’m sorry.” Anne said nervously as they watched Marcy go.
“What, you’re gonna leave me alone here? Stay with me, someone who actually loves you.” Sasha tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. She knew what she really wanted to say.
Please don’t leave me.
Anne checked her phone, her brow furrowing with anxiety. “Sasha, I’m serious. My parents are getting, like, super worried.”
“Fine. Go.”
“Sorry Sash!” Anne flashed her one last sad smile before she ran off, leaving Sasha alone in the school parking lot.
Sasha stewed in resentment; once again her friends’ parents just had to drag them away. She didn’t understand it! She hated every second she was home with her mom. How could Anne and Marcy ever want to go home?
At least she knew Marcy kind of understood her. She’d never been exactly eager to go home at her parents’ request, more so afraid of the consequences of not obeying them.
But Anne? There were days where she wanted to go home, where it seemed like she’d actually rather be with her parents than her.
She hated this. Why couldn’t she be number one in their hearts, the way they were for her?
Alone, without Anne or Marcy there to see it, Sasha allowed herself a moment of weakness. Hot, angry tears of frustration stained her jean jacket.
Bitterly, Sasha scrolled through her phone, constantly switching back to her messages, hoping she’d simply missed the text from her father saying he was on his way.
Still nothing.
It was just past 10 by the time Sasha finally got a call from her father.
“Hey sweetie.”
“Hi daddy!” Despite how late he was, Sasha couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice.
“Hi sweetie, I’m so sorry. I forgot it was your sister’s birthday on Saturday.”
“My half-sister,” Sasha muttered under her breath, correcting her dad.
He didn’t seem to hear as he continued on with his excuses. “I was out all day getting stuff ready for her birthday party—”
“You didn’t do anything for my birthday…” It stung more than Sasha even expected it to. She’d always held resentment for the family her dad chose. For the daughter her dad chose. But to hear him just say it outright shattered the small amount of hope Sasha didn’t even know she was holding onto.
“What was that sweetie?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing dad.”
“Can we aim for maybe…next month, sorry things are just really busy with my family these upcoming weeks—”
“Sure dad, bye.”
“Bye swe—”
Sasha hung up, cutting off her father.
She didn’t cry. Not again. She simply stood up and began the long walk home to her mother’s house. Her mother barely acknowledged her when she walked in the front door. Only giving her a disappointed, “Oh. You’re back.”
“Dad was busy with his other family.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s probably obsessed with making sure he’s the centre of their attention,” Sasha’s mom scoffed as she stood in front of her, glass of wine in hand. She rolled her eyes when she saw Sasha’s face. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? Ugh, you’re just like him.”
The already sour day took a decidedly nastier turn as Sasha's heart fell at her mother’s words. “What?”
Sasha’s mom took her question as an invitation. “Your father was always so ridiculously jealous. He was actually jealous of you when you were born! Can you imagine that! Being jealous of your own child taking away your wife’s attention. It’s part of why I divorced him.”
Sasha had lived with her mother long enough to know a subtle insult when she heard it. “Are you saying I'm the reason you guys divorced?!”
Sasha’s mother took a cool sip from her wine before answering with a nonchalant, “Partially.”
Without another word Sasha stomped up the stairs, barely registering her mother telling her how unladylike it was. She retreated to her room, crashing face down onto her bed to let a new wave of private tears get lost in the depths of her sheets. She didn’t want to hear any more of her mother’s ranting about her father. She knew who she was really aiming at.
To think she’d started the day so hopeful, looking forward to spending time with a man she’d learned might not actually care for her at all, only to end up back under the roof of a woman she was almost certain felt that way.
A few years later, Sasha’s worst fears would be proven true when she learned that, after she was whisked away to another world, neither parent had even bothered to report her missing.
“Where the fuck is he?” Anne frets as her latest call to Sasha’s phone sends her straight to his voicemail. In her other hand, held in a vice-like grip, she holds the note that announced his departure.
All it reads is, “I can’t marry you two. I’ll only ruin everything. You’re better off without me. I’m sorry.”
They’d woken up a few hours ago to the first rays of morning hitting their eyes, and Marcy had rolled over to perform her usual morning routine of clinging to Sasha until work or hunger called him away. But today, when Marcy had rolled over, only an empty and cold bed greeted her.
They’d thought nothing of it at first—maybe he’d gone for an early morning run or something—until Anne went to the kitchen to start breakfast and found the note on the kitchen counter.
Now Marcy paces to and fro in their kitchen, fiddling with their hands as they call every person they can think of who might have a clue as to where Sasha has gone.
“Nothing from his mom. I think,” Marcy says with more than a hint of disdain. “She just made another jab at me for bringing you guys to Amphibia when we were kids again, and then hung up.”
Anne buries her face in her palms, groaning and feeling herself going grey. “Still nothing but voicemail from his phone. Where could he have gone? Should we file a missing persons’ report?”
Marcy shakes her head. “He hasn’t been gone long enough. Plus, based on the note we know he probably left of his own accord.”
Marcy fiddles anxiously as they continue to pace, before voicing their worries out loud. “Do you think…do you think it was something we did?”
Anne hates seeing Marcy like this. She knows her fiancée still holds a lot of deep-seated insecurities about their relationship, despite how long they’ve been together. For obvious reasons Sasha’s sudden disappearance only a week before their wedding is only making her doubts worse.
“It’s definitely not anything we did,” Anne attempts to reassure them. She moves across the kitchen and stills Marcy’s pacing, pulling her in gently for a hug. In her arms she can feel Marcy shaking; she holds Marcy tighter to try and ground them before she says, “Remember, his note says he thinks he’ll ruin everything.”
“What does that even mean? What could he possibly do that could ruin our relationship?” Marcy says with increasing exasperation. Burying their face in Anne’s chest they take a deep breath and release it with a muffled groan. “Our relationship survived Amphibia. If me kidnapping you two isn’t going to ruin everything, I don’t know what…”
Marcy pulls back, her eyes locking with Anne as the same realization hits them at once.
“He wouldn’t…” Anne says with disbelief.
Marcy, sighs and buries their face, once again, in Anne’s chest. “He absolutely fuckin’ would.”
They’re both dressed, complete with their new weapons and armour for Amphibia, in under 10 minutes. They hit the road even faster, Marcy already dialing Terri to confirm their suspicions.
17 Years Ago
A warzone was a hard place to be as a thirteen year old girl, especially when you were a thirteen year old girl who was the commander of a whole resistance against a tyrant. Especially when you were a thirteen year old girl who had just lost both of her best friends because of a stupid coup that you started.
Trudging through the swamps of Frog Valley, performing a reconnaissance mission, left you with a lot of time to think. And so Sasha replayed the last month over and over in her head. She’d been so jealous of the bond Anne and Marcy had with each other while she wasn’t with them. She’d wanted to be the focus of their attention, to wrest control of the friendship back from them, at any cost. And now…
No. Sasha shook her head as she came up to a small dry patch amongst the knee-deep water. Anne was safe on Earth and Marcy was alive. They had to be. Otherwise, Sasha wasn’t sure how she could live with herself.
Sasha hated how, even after everything that’d happened, she still couldn’t shake that need to be in control; she still couldn’t shake the lingering pit of jealousy for what Anne and Marcy had. It took all of Sasha’s self control to keep quiet and prevent revealing her position to the frobots flying above her. All she wanted to do was scream.
She waited on that island until, finally, after an excruciating hour, Grime rendezvoused with her.
“You made it. Good,” he said as he wiped the mud from his armour.
Despite her inner turmoil, Sasha managed to dredge up something resembling a bubbly response. “Of course, Grimesy! You taught me how to navigate this swamp, didn’t you?”
“And you catch on quick,” Grime added before seating himself on a nearby stump. “You’re the spitting image of a proper toad warrior. Have I ever told you that?”
“You have,” Sasha said with some genuine confidence, allowing herself a brief moment of pride.
“Good. Confidence in oneself is the key to victory!” Grime said, his toothy grin almost gaining warmth as he said it.
A strange feeling welled up in Sasha’s chest, replacing, if only for a brief moment, the guilt that’d been living there for so long. It was still weird, being genuinely appreciated by someone. Someone who was almost like a father to her.
Sasha’s mouth moved faster than her mind, and to her horror, her train of thought made her utter an earnest, “Thanks dad.”
“Eugh, don’t get sentimental on me commander.” Grime said, his face twisting with disgust.
With dawning horror Sasha realized what she’d just said. “Wait! Wait Grime, I didn’t mean—”
Grime gagged. “Please. Never call me that again.”
Sasha paused. Some part of her wondered if she should feel rejected. Instead all she felt was relieved. No, of course this wasn’t her dad. Thank god this wasn’t her dad. No parent, no family had ever treated her with the respect and care he’d shown her.
It was an insult to compare Grime to her father.
Standing to attention, Sasha saluted. “Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!”
“At ease, Commander. Perhaps I reacted a bit strongly,” Grim grunted, waving a clawed hand. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea. Family has always been nothing but an annoyance to me—you’ve met Beatrix.”
“Yeah…I…I think I get it,” Sasha said as a new appreciation for Grime rose in her chest. “Who the fuck needs family?”
“Not me,” Grime scoffed. “Not when I’ve got my lieutenant at my back.”
Sasha heads out for the Heron’s last known location first thing in the morning, before the sun has even cleared the eastern mountains of Frog Valley.
He’d wanted to leave as soon as Grime had assigned him his task. He was confident that, with his skills and his old familiarity with the terrain, he would have been fine travelling in the dark. Grime had insisted he stay the night, however, showing him to a room in the toad embassy that had been furnished to accommodate someone of his size.
Begrudgingly, Sasha accepted, and had caught some admittedly much needed sleep.
Now, trekking through the forest, trying to reach the heart of the swamp, he’s grateful that Grime had gotten him to stay the night. The swamp is dark enough in the growing morning light, let alone in the dead of night, and his progress is slow. Painfully, achingly slow.
He hasn’t had much time to think about what he’s doing until now. The adrenaline of his night time flight finally begins to wear off as he chops through the thousandth vine on his journey.
He knows his fiancées well. By now they’d have found his note, asked everyone he knows if they know where he’s gone, gotten nothing, and figured out he’d run off to Amphibia. They’re probably on the road now, breaking several traffic laws to get to the FBI compound as fast as they can.
Sasha does the math in his head as he fights off another giant bug and continues on through the knee-high water. He probably has another few hours left before they find him.
He sighs a breath of relief when he finds a patch of dry ground. Sasha stretches, letting his legs finally move freely; the burn in his legs from wading for a solid few hours is beginning to catch up with him. He knows if he sits down now, he’ll just begin to cramp up, so instead Sasha pulls out the greatsword Grime gave him.
Despite being 6 feet long, the sword is surprisingly light, with a long, thin, fullered blade to save on weight. Even still, Sasha needs to use wide, circular motions to swing the thing around. It’s definitely a human sized sword—no amphibian would ever have a chance of using it besides maybe as a makeshift spear.
He’s not quite used to the two handed style. He’s far more used to dual-wielding his shorter arming swords. Quietly, Sasha thinks that Anne, who’d chosen a longsword for her new weapon, would wield this thing far better than him.
Better yet, Anne, backed up by Marcy and her bow, would probably make short work of the heron. Sasha imagines his fiancées and their fluidity as they move with trust and confidence forged by the test of time.
Trust and confidence they would’ve also once had in him, until now.
Sasha finally sits down on a nearby log and buries his face in his hands. Regret catches up to him in an instant.
What is he doing out here? He was so afraid of ruining their marriage, their family one day, yet here he is, already doing that before it even began. He loves them. Why can’t that be enough? He wants that to be enough.
But his father’s words run through his head and he remembers.
Love isn’t enough.
Not when he’s his mother and father’s child.
He’s just doomed to follow in his parents’ footsteps, whatever he does.
With that in mind Sasha hardens his resolve; he left Anne and Marcy behind for their sake.
They’re better off without him.
7 Years Ago
Sasha didn’t normally invite his mother out to lunch. Both he and his mother learned a while ago that they were best kept at a long, long arm’s reach. But today he had something important to tell her and he wanted to do it in person.
His mom picked the place, so of course she picked a bougie bistro in the middle of downtown that would still be out of Sasha’s budget if he'd won the lottery. He rolled his eyes when he saw his mom's request—he almost missed the time when his mom was blunt about how little she wanted to see him. In spite of this he ate his pride, fortified his wallet, and figured out he could probably afford to get by on just ordering an appetizer.
He was proud of his two new girlfriends and he was going to tell his mother about them in person, even if it meant sitting through a shitty, expensive, uncomfortable meal with his mother.
She was already waiting for him, impatiently tapping her finger against a glass of rosé. When she saw him she rolled her eyes and scoffed as he sat down.
“Your roots are showing,” she said briskly.
Sasha tried to be as polite as possible. “I’ve decided to stop dying my hair. It keeps my hair healthier.”
Sasha neglected to tell his mother about his newfound anxieties about hair loss on account of starting testosterone. One thing at a time—he figured he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.
“You look ridiculous,” Sasha’s mother continued her criticisms. “You look much better with the hair colour I chose for you. I go through all this trouble to make you into the best version of yourself and this is how you thank me?”
Sasha wanted so desperately to snap back, to remind his mother just how little influence she had over him anymore, but he wasn’t just here for himself. “For Anne and Marcy,” he repeated the mantra in his head.
Sasha bit his tongue and smiled as widely as he could. “Sorry.”
After Sasha ordered, the rest of the wait for their food was the usual aloof routine he and his mother usually did. He wanted to break the news to her while he had some food in his stomach—he felt he probably needed it.
Finally after they’d dug in, Sasha broached the subject. “So…”
“You’re about to tell me just why you’ve invited me to lunch,” his mother interrupted him. “So what is it? Finally crawling back to me after rebelling for so long?”
“No! God, mom, I’m doing just fine witho— No, That’s not it,” Sasha said with gritted teeth.
“What is it then?”
“I’m in a relationship.”
His mother continued to look unimpressed. “Is that it?”
“Well, no…I wanted to let you know because, I’m…” Sasha felt his confidence waver under his mother’s gaze. She always made him feel so small. He hated it. Finally he gained his resolve and continued. “I’m dating Anne and Marcy.”
Sasha’s mom dropped her fork, her face freezing in a look of utter shock. “You’re with both of them?”
“Y-Yes…?”
A myriad of emotions passed across her face, ranging from anger, to grief, to disbelief, to disgust. It was rare that Sasha’s mother was at a loss for words. He hated that his relationship was the reason. Finally, after a moment she muttered, “You really are your father’s child.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Being compared to his father again reopened an old wound, and Sasha let his anger get the better of him, raising his voice and causing enough of a scene to draw eyes to them.
“You’re cheating on two women with each other!” Sasha’s mother raised her voice right back as she stared at him with disdain. “I can’t believe this! And to think I thought I raised you right.”
“Wait what?” Sasha’s mind was still reeling from the fact that his mom thought he was cheating on his girlfriends. He barely had time to process just what his mother was implying. “First of all I’m not cheating! We’re all dating each other! And we all know about it.”
“Well. I suppose that’s better…”
“Second, what exactly did you mean by me being my father’s child?”
Sasha’s mother pursed her lips, looking anywhere but at Sasha.
“Mom. Did you—did you and dad divorce because he cheated on you?”
Sasha’s mother stayed silent for a while, looking back and forth at the other restaurant patrons. Once they’d turned away from them she leaned forward and said with a much lower voice, “Your father’s jealousy made him do some absolutely asinine things…including looking for the attention I wasn’t giving him by sleeping with other women.”
“And you thought…mom, I know I can get jealous sometimes, but you didn’t seriously think…”
His mother’s silence spoke volumes. As Sasha slumped back into his chair, he felt like his entire world was collapsing all over again. He’d always known he shared his jealousy issues with his dad, and sure, he knew his dad had always been kinda shitty. But this?
Would his own jealousy drive him to make decisions as awful as his father’s?
“I wouldn’t—I would never cheat on Anne and Marcy, mom! How could you even—”
His mother interrupted him again. “They’re dating each other too, aren’t they?”
“Well, yes…”
“Then don’t you think that could cause some issues down the line?”
It was Sasha’s turn to stay silent this time. He desperately wanted to shoot back a vicious response in turn, to prove his mother wrong with his words. But the seeds of doubt began to take root into Sasha’s heart.
What if she was right?
“Congratulations on your relationship.” Sasha’s mother said cooly as she paid her bill and began to make a speedy exit. “Try not to be like your father.”
Anne isn’t a scary person, as a rule. Usually she’s the most amicable member of their trio. But when she wants to be, Anne can be absolutely terrifying.
“You sent him to kill a frog-damned heron?” Anne shouts down at Grime. She towers over the toad, fully armoured, with a longsword at her hip. To anyone else that would have been enough to make them tuck tail and run.
As her fiancée, Marcy thinks this quite possibly may be one of her hottest moments. She sighs as she sits at Grime’s dining room table, staring lovingly as Anne lets loose.
Grime, to his credit, stands his ground. “I simply gave him a way to figure out his feelings the Toad way. Besides, it’s a juvenile heron, he can handle it.”
Anne takes a deep breath and gives Grime a dangerous looking smile. “Uh huh, uh huh, and just how big is a juvenile heron?”
“Err… about 16 feet tall?” Grime says, suddenly looking sheepish.
A vein bulges in Anne’s temple. “Uh, yeah, okay, Marcy?”
“Yes Anne?” they respond dreamily.
“Take over for me for a second, will you?” she says as she heads into the next room and proceeds to scream.
Marcy picks up where she left off. “Grime, what the fuck? That’s way too big for Sasha to fight alone!”
“It’s Sasha! I equipped him with the finest weapon in our arsenal. He’ll be fine.” Grime assures them, waving his hand. “Besides, I knew you two would show up.”
Anne re-enters the room, rubbing her temples. “Of course we were going to show up. We would have come with him if he’d only told us.”
Marcy snaps her fingers as a thought strikes them. “Did he say anything about why he thought he would ruin our marriage?”
“No.” Grime replies plainly. When Anne and Marcy glare at him he defends, “What? You’re his fiancées. You can figure it out.”
“Will you at least tell us where exactly he’s gone?” Anne says with a hint of defeat.
“Obviously. That I can tell you,” Grime says as he pulls out a map of Frog Valley.
With the directions to where their fiancé is heading like an idiot towards his possible death, Anne and Marcy climb onto Joe and fly as fast as his old wings will let them. As the cool, humid air rushes past them, with only each other and the sky as company, they think about Grime’s words. They’re his fiancées, they should be able to figure this out.
“If it wasn’t us, then what could possibly make Sasha think he’d ruin things?” Anne wonders aloud, nestling her head against Marcy's shoulder.
Marcy thinks for a moment, wrapping their arm around Anne's waist. “You think he’s worried about his control issues?”
“Maybe? He has been struggling to keep that in check through all the wedding planning.”
“He only started acting like this when we were about to actually get married. Do you think we rushed into this too fast?” Marcy can't help but let a small seed of guilt form. The last thing she wants is to pressure Sasha into something he doesn't want. “We’ve been dating for 7 years, but if Sasha wasn’t ready…”
Placing a reassuring hand on Marcy's knee, Anne sighs, “Let’s go, while we can still ask him.”
2 Years Ago
After nearly two and a half years of no contact it would be the understatement of a lifetime to say Sasha was shocked when his father insisted they meet up, one day out of the blue.
Sasha wasn’t a stranger to saying no to his father. Most of the time he downright ignored him. But him asking to meet, on a random day, in some random park, had piqued Sasha's interest. So he made the trip to the far end of LA, searching around an unfamiliar suburb for the park where his father had asked to meet him.
He found him at a picnic table, looking grey and haggard, suspiciously holding some tupperware. Sasha’s father stood when he saw him approaching, his smile filled with a nervous anticipation.
“Hey swee— hi Sasha,” he called out once he was within earshot. Sasha suppressed the urge to gag hearing his father almost call him by his childhood pet name.
“Hey,” Sasha replied cooly. He walked around the picnic table, and sat, his arms crossed and face as blank as possible. “Why’d you ask to meet?”
“Straight to the point, huh?” Chuckling nervously Sasha’s father sat across from him, placing the tupperware on the table. “Just like your mother.”
“Don’t talk about her. Stop changing the subject.” Sasha’s eyes flicked downward. In the container was a slice of medovik. “You’re getting another divorce, aren’t you?”
“What? How did—”
“You made medovik. Did you bake it to soften the news for your other kids too?” Sasha asked bluntly.
His father sputtered and tripped over his words. “I mean, just because I—I can bake whenever…”
Sasha just stared him down
“Yes,” he relented, fiddling with the tupperware.
“And what, you saved a piece for when you were gonna break the news to me? Is this your attempt to finally acknowledge I exist?”
“Sasha I–”
“Thank you so much for finally giving me an ounce of your affection now that you’ve ruined your new family!” Sasha said with an exaggerated smile, letting his bitter sarcasm lace every word. “So did you two ‘not work out,’ or did you cheat on her too?”
Sasha enjoyed watching the colour drain from his father's face. “Your mom told you.”
“She did!” Sasha raised his voice, slamming his hands on the table. “I can’t believe you’d let your jealousy drive you to actually cheat.”
“Oh is that what she told you? I’m sure that’s how she’d love to see it.” Sasha's father leaned back, smirking and laughing with disbelief. “No. Being married to your mother was like drowning everyday. She was so controlling, constantly demanding I live exactly how she wanted. I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy to be married to someone like her.”
Sasha felt a chill at his last words, but the flame of his anger overtook it. “That didn’t give you an excuse to cheat on her!”
“Marriages are hard! So what if I want to do things for me once in a while? What would you know about any of this?” Sasha's father pointed an accusatory finger at him as the flames of his anger rose to meet his son's.
“I’m getting married.” Sasha tamped his anger down to a red-hot ember.
“What?” Just as quickly his father's extinguished too.
“I’m marrying Anne and Marcy,” Sasha declared proudly. He stood, looking down on his father with pure contempt.
Both of them stared silently at each other, letting the quiet sounds of the park fill the space between them. Sasha's father's mouth hung open as if unable to comprehend Sasha's words.
“Treat them right,” he finally responded, barely on the edge of hearing. A deep and mournful regret filled his voice as he fiddled with the tupperware on his hands. "Don't be like your mother…or like me. I don’t think either of us was cut out for married life.”
Sasha didn't say another word to him. He stormed off back to his car, that ember of rage still glowing in him. After all that, after years of absence, after two divorces, that man had the nerve to lecture him on marriage?
It took the entire drive home to finally cool off, and when Sasha got home, he’d never been more relieved to see his fiancées.
“Sasha!” Anne rushed up to meet him at the door. Her arms wrapping around him were like an anchor in a storm. “How’d it go?”
“Did you kick his ass?” Marcy followed soon after, clinging to him from behind, the soothing circles they traced across his back threatening to melt him into a puddle in their arms.
“It went…okay, and no, unfortunately. I just learned he’s getting another divorce.”
Anne cupped Sasha’s face gently. “You okay, dude?”
Melting into her touch and into Marcy’s arms, Sasha sighed, “Now I am.”
Anne gave Sasha a soft smile that suddenly morphed into a mischievous grin as she began moving the hand cupping his cheek. “Your facial hair is so scratchy.”
“Ohhh, can I feel?” Marcy brought a hand up from behind him, rubbing his other cheek and giggling, “I like it.”
“I haven’t shaved in a while,” Sasha laughed. He looked in the mirror that hung in their front entrance, wanting to examine the stubble Anne and Marcy were so fond of.
He froze.
It had been so long since he’d seen his father, to the point where he’d forgotten exactly what he looked like. But with his memory refreshed after seeing him that day, Sasha came to a horrifying realization.
When he stared into the mirror, his father stared back.
Sasha takes a steadying breath, steeling himself as he draws the greatsword from its scabbard. He shivers, partially from the swamp water permeating his clothing, partially from the fear he can’t deny anymore.
He looks around the clearing. Bones lie scattered about from numerous unfortunate amphibians who have already fallen victim to the heron. The smell of decay permeates the clearing, acrid in his nose.
Now that he's here, he wonders how exactly this is supposed to help him figure himself out. He's been in plenty of fights, a lot of them life-threatening, and none of them fixed him. And yet here he is. A deadbeat fiancé, run off to…to do what?
Did he come here to die?
Sasha hasn't wanted to die in a long time. But now, knowing he'll be the inevitable death of everything he holds dear, maybe…
His thoughts are interrupted as he feels the ground shake, almost imperceptible at first, but growing in intensity as something approaches. Puddles of water around him shudder as the vibrations—the footsteps—grow closer.
And suddenly. Silence.
The ever-present hum of the surrounding forest stops. Everything stills as Sasha’s heartbeat and his breathing become the only sounds in his ears. He scans the clearing, waiting for a sign of the heron.
The rumbling presence of something very big and very behind him warns him just in time for him to dodge the enormous beak bearing down on him. He rolls out of the way, and with a sickening jolt he realizes he's lost the greatsword in the process, leaving it stuck in the mud on the wrong side of a titanic bird.
Sasha looks up with dread at his opponent. It’s definitely a young heron, still sporting its juvenile brown feathers, but that doesn’t mean much when the adults stand as tall as Toad Tower. Sasha isn’t short, but it towers over him, staring down at him with its beady, focused eyes.
Sasha feels another low, ominous rumble emanate from the massive bird as it lunges forward. He barely has enough time to dodge out of the way this time, but his muscle memory dodges for him, simultaneously drawing his dual swords on instinct.
When his mind catches up he runs, trying to put some distance between himself and the heron.
Finding his footing he takes his stance with the twin swords and readies himself to fight for his life. He can’t die here, how could he be so stupid? He has people who love him, people who stayed with him even when he was at his worst. How could he possibly think—
Sasha doesn't have time to finish the thought as the heron begins to charge.
Yesterday
Planning a wedding was hard.
That’s what Sasha knew the moment he agreed to marry Anne and Marcy. He’d heard the horror stories before, of bridezillas causing panic and dismay as they demand every detail be exactly the way they want it. The thought of it terrified him.
He’d gone into the whole process under the hopeful assumption that he was a changed person. That his control issues were completely reined in and if he ever stepped out of line, Anne and Marcy would stop him.
He’d come perilously close to letting the uglier side of him show more times than made Sasha comfortable. Marcy stopped him when he’d nearly throttled a bank agent after they’d made taking out his savings a living hell. Anne caught him trying to be a little too involved in the catering menu. And when it came to the venue, Marcy and Anne both needed to intervene when he fell in love with a hall that was far too small to house their extensive guest list.
Sasha thanked them every time for keeping him in check, relieved to have such reliable fiancées. But every time, the crawling, overbearing shadow of his mother and her control issues stood over him, reminding him just how much he was like her.
He pushed that thought deep down and repeated reassurances to himself. He was aware of his issues. The stress of wedding planning was what was making them flare up. He was different from his mother. He had to be.
He spent his entire wedding planning period fretting about becoming his controlling mother, he wasn’t prepared for when his father’s jealousy would rear its ugly head.
It started out innocuously enough, with a simple question from Marcy. “Hey, if poly marriage had never been legalized, do you think two of us still would’ve gotten married for like, tax purposes?”
Sasha thought long and hard for a moment. Would he have wanted to marry just one of the loves of his life? The thought had never occurred to him. He’d always been happy, simply as their boyfriend.
Anne, it seemed, had other ideas. “Hmmm, I’d probably marry you, Marcy.”
Both Sasha and Marcy turned to Anne.
“What?”
“Why?”
“Tax reasons. Even if they were excruciatingly painful, Hop-Pop’s tax lessons come in handy. You see, because Marcy’s self-employed…”
Anne’s reasoning was sound, her very dry, very lengthy explanation on taxes making it obvious why she and Marcy would have made the better pair to get married.
Even still, as he lay awake in bed long after Anne and Marcy had fallen asleep, that old ember of jealousy sprung up in his heart. That bitter voice that whispered that he would never be number one in their hearts. And then another sprung up, cold and calculating, telling him he needed absolute control to ensure that he remained the center of their affections.
It was an old familiar loop, one he’d quashed a thousand times before, so many times the act of denying his broken brain was as easy as breathing.
But tonight, just over a week before his wedding, just over a week before he, Anne, and Marcy would promise to tie themselves to each other forever, Sasha’s life flashed before his eyes.
He saw in it an unbroken string of the consequences of a failed marriage. He saw the pain that had grown and branched out from the moment he learned at the age of 6 that love wasn’t enough. He saw his parents’ flaws, colliding in a spectacular explosion of bitter hatred that always seemed to catch him in the crossfire.
And in the center of the ashes of his parents’ failed marriage he saw himself. The catalyst of their divorce. The bearer of both his parents’ sins—a timebomb that would eventually destroy everything he ever loved.
So Sasha got up in the middle of the night, wrote a quick note to try and explain himself to the two people he loved more than anything in the world, packed up what few belongings he thought he might need, and drove off into the night.
Sasha Waybright has always known he’s a bit of an idiot.
A very clever idiot, but an idiot all the same.
Because instead of talking out his problems, he’s decided to run off to another world, alone.
Because, despite being alone, he’s decided to fight a heron.
And because, despite fighting a heron, he’s let the only weapons that might give him a fighting chance slip from his grasp.
Considering he’s only had his two smaller arming swords for the entirety of this fight, Sasha thinks he’s done a good job so far of not dying. He tries to keep an eye on the greatsword, sticking out of the mud across the clearing.
Forget killing this heron, if Sasha doesn’t get that sword, he’ll be lucky if he even survives.
Sasha makes another break for the greatsword, keeping an eye on the heron’s beak as he runs. He’s so focused on the beak, he doesn’t have time to register the claw bearing down on him until it’s too late. Knocked off his feet, breath knocked from his lungs, by the time Sasha’s senses return to him the heron’s head is all he can see.
It’s over, and the only one he has to blame is himself. The last words Sasha utters are an apology, begging for forgiveness from the ones he loves most. “Anne, Marcy, I’m sorr—”
His words are interrupted by the sudden, ear-piercing, chest rumbling roar of the heron as it reels back, a steady stream of blood gushing from its eye.
“Anne!”
“I got it!”
The voices of his fiancées ring through the air—it’s the sweetest sound Sasha’s ever heard. The heron’s attention turns upward, freeing Sasha who stands and looks up in turn.
He’s just in time to see Anne jumping off the back of Joe Sparrow with her longsword in hand. A warcry sounds from her chest as she lands and drives the longsword into the heron’s back. It’s not enough to bring it down, but it’s more than Sasha’s done for the entire fight. Another rain of arrows falls from the sky as Marcy circles the clearing, each expertly aimed shot from her bow confusing the heron and drawing its attention away from him.
Sasha watches them in awe, the way they move, their coordination working together—it makes his already racing heart beat even faster. He stands so breathlessly enamoured, he briefly forgets everything that’s been troubling him. With his two loves at his side he can take on anything.
Reality comes crashing down on him as the heron thrashes, trying to bat the constant rain of arrows away from itself. Anne gets thrown off the heron’s back, landing on the opposite side of the clearing.
“Anne!” Sasha screams, panicking at the thought of Anne getting hurt. He realizes his mistake as soon as those beady heron’s eyes hone in on him again.
With a low, menacing rumble, the heron signals its charge, ready to cross the clearing in a few bounds to finally eat its prey.
It doesn’t get the chance.
“Stay away from my husband!’ Anne’s voice thunders across the clearing.
Sasha finally spots Anne and she’s a beautiful, glorious sight. She’s found the greatsword and, holding it in a high guard, she charges before the heron has a chance to. Just as Sasha suspected, the weapon looks more natural in her hands as she swings the sword in a wide, sweeping motion.
The blade connects with the heron’s leg. The next thing Sasha sees is the heron writhing in pain as it falls over. Then it makes one final, hideous noise before it finally falls limp, its death rattle echoing through the clearing as the wound from Anne’s strike brings about its end.
As the adrenaline wears off, Sasha’s remorse hits him. He knows killing this heron was for the safety of the Valley, but even still he can’t help but pity it. Just another creature doomed to follow in the footsteps of its parents.
A sudden gust of wind dances around him as Marcy lands Joe. Sasha can’t help but give them a once-over as they dismount. They look stunning, their hair tied into a loose bun and their lamellar chitin armour glittering in the sun. The only thing that mars her appearance is the look of anxiety and frustration on her face that he knows he caused. “Sashy what were you thinking I mean I can guess you weren’t thinking clearly but holy shit you almost died,” Marcy says in a single breath as they run up to him and tackle him into a hug.
“Hey, hey Mars I’m okay—” Sasha says as he melts into Marcy’s arms. He can’t help the sudden flow of tears that escape him. The sudden realization that he came so very close to losing this hits him all at once. “I’m oka—god, I’m so sorry.”
“Sasha.” Anne’s voice echoes across the clearing. Sasha looks up and sees her striking silhouette. With her hair held in place with a bandana, her normally shining plate armour now stained with heron’s blood, and the greatsword slung over her shoulder, she looks equal parts beautiful and terrifying. Especially so because as she approaches she looks very very angry. “Of all the reckless, impulsive, dangerous…”
As Anne stands over him, however, her scowl melts into relieved tears. Dropping the sword, falling to her knees, and pulling him into a hug with Marcy, she just keeps repeating, “Why? Why?”
“I—” Sasha tries to find the words to explain himself. As he feels their warmth and love lightening the twisting knot in his gut, he can barely remember what set him on this path in the first place. He looks at the slain heron again. “I thought you two would…”
“Would be better off without you?” The pained look Anne gives him cuts him deeper than anything the heron could’ve done to him. “What could possibly make you think that?”
“It’s gonna sound so stupid…” Sasha begins as he remembers what set him on this path. “When you said that—that if poly marriage wasn't a thing, that you and Marcy would get married…”
Marcy studies him closely. “You know that was only a hypothetical, right?”
“I know! Fuck how do I explain this?”
“Sasha,” Anne says softly into Sasha’s ear. “Whatever it is, we can handle it. We’ll get through this together. Just. Talk to us.”
Breathing deeply, Sasha begins, “I thought I was gonna fuck up our marriage. Before the three of us could get married I didn’t have to worry about it, but now that we’re actually getting married, well… My parents’ marriage failed because of both of their worst traits. And guess what!? I have all my mom’s control issues and all my dad’s jealousy. I’m like a divorce waiting to happen.”
Sasha looks to the heron again and sighs in defeat. “It’s just a matter of time before I follow in my parents’ footsteps and ruin everything.”
“Sasha, look at me,” Anne says, cupping his face in her hands. “You have never been and will never be your parents.”
Marcy holds Sasha tighter and hums in agreement. “You have more care and self-awareness than they've ever had. And besides, you have something your parents never had. Us. You’re our Sasha, and we’re your Marcy and Anne, and we love you.”
Doubt continues to swirl in Sasha's mind. “But what if…what if love isn’t enough?”
“What if it is?” Anne pushes back against one of Sasha’s oldest fears, staring into his eyes as if challenging that thought like she did the heron.
“Neither time nor distance can ever break the bond we share, Sasha.” Marcy says, a soft smile gracing her lips as she looks from him to Anne. “You guys taught me that, remember?”
“You’re right, of course you’re right,” Sasha says, tears welling up in his eyes. “God, almost dying really does put things into perspective for you, huh?”
A sudden jolt of realization hits him. “So…does this mean you guys aren’t mad at me for running away, fighting a heron, and almost dying?”
“Absolutely not.” Marcy says, her eyes taking on the chilling, dead-eyed look she only gets when she’s really angry.
Conversely, Anne’s eyes light up with a fiery anger Sasha has seen countless times. “Nope, we’re still furious.”
Sasha bows his head. “Yeah that's fair.”
“But!” Marcy emphasizes, holding him just a bit too tightly. “We still love you.”
Anne nods in agreement. “So what do you say? Still wanna get married?”
Teary, shakily, Sasha nods and smiles as he says with his heart glowing, “Yes!”
Gentle music drifts through the air as Sasha takes both Anne and Marcy’s hands and leads them to the dance floor. They both look absolutely stunning, Marcy in their well-tailored, dark green velvet suit and (slightly singed) cape, and Anne in her stunning, shoulderless wedding dress, laced with embroidered silver and blue threading. The soft lighting surrounds both of them with an ethereal glow and shines off the stones in their new wedding rings, reminding him just how lucky he is.
Wordlessly, he pulls them in closer, their steps following the well-rehearsed dance that intertwines their movements in a seamless flow that floats across the dance floor. The intricate steps and spins demand absolute coordination and trust between the three of them, and they do it effortlessly. Sasha doesn’t even think about where his feet are going next, only staring deep into his new wives’ eyes, filled with a lightness and elation he can’t believe he almost threw away.
When their dance finishes, they relinquish the floor to the various humans and amphibians eager to dance themselves. Sitting down at the head table, taking a sip from their drinks, the newlyweds bask in the wedding reception around them.
“I’m sorry your mom and dad didn’t show up, Sasha,” Anne comforts her new husband, rubbing his arm sympathetically.
“I’m not.” Sasha smirks as he watches Grime and Hop-Pop do something that could be described as dancing. “Honestly I’m not surprised. My mom refused to go unless she got her way and I banned my dad, and my dad was so jealous that your dad would be the one walking all three of us down the aisle that he’s probably still sulking about it at home.”
“I’m glad they didn’t show up. Your mom especially,” Marcy chimes in, lounging back as she downs her champagne in one go. “She haaaaaates me.”
“Yeah it’s because she has bad taste,” Sasha scoffs, before pulling Marcy in for a very champagne-y kiss. “She married my dad at one point, after all.”
Anne pulls him in for a kiss next. “Mmmm, who would’ve thought two shitty people could make someone so handsome and sweet.”
“Careful Anne, you might accidentally compliment my dad, I do look like him now that I’m on T—”
Anne shuts him up with another kiss. “Nope. You’re way hotter. And way more loyal.”
Marcy pulls him in next, wearing a mischievous look on their face. “And way sweeter, and kinder, and just waaaay better than both of your parents. You’re our Sashy, always and forever.”
Marcy and Anne flash him a smile before holding up their left hands and saying at the same time, in the same sing-song voice, “Legally!”
Sasha can’t help but laugh as they high five over him before pulling each other into a deep kiss. Basking in the warmth between them he sighs happily as the sounds of their wedding reception surround him. No matter what, they’ll make this work, because he’s their Sasha and they’re his Anne and Marcy.
And that will always be enough.