Capture, Cavalry, Confusion, Courtship

Chapter 5: In Which A Rescue Mission Is Enacted 

“If no one’s going to help, we’ll just rescue Sunny ourselves.”

Marianne tensed up at the border. She grabbed Dawn’s hand and held it tightly as they crossed, expecting at any moment for one of them to be snatched away.

When that didn’t happen in the first five seconds, she let out a slow breath and let go.

The mushroom gasped at the bright wings flashing overhead.

“Two fairies have crossed the border!” they hissed to their neighbour up the line.

Dawn stayed close to Marianne for once, instead of dancing through the air around her. She gasped when they nearly flew into a spider web.

“Stay behind me.” Marianne drew her sword.

They dodged the web and were nearly bitten by a plant. Dawn bumped into another plant, causing it to reach up and fan out as though to catch them.

A goblin scout spotted the two fairies, and the scroll that the more brightly-coloured one carried, with the Bog King’s seal cracked but visible. They blew the signal horn in a sequence rarely used – strange visitors were on their way to the castle.

Thang burst into the throne room, interrupting Griselda’s song. Bog was both relieved and annoyed.

“Sire, news from the mushrooms! Dune berries havoc and smoulder!”

“That’s not it!” said Stuff. “Two fairies have crossed the border! And they’re nearly here!”

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Capture, Cavalry, Confusion, Courtship

Chapter 9: In Which Bog And Marianne Fight 

It turned out the elf had actually been planning to use the love potion on the fairy princess. Her bodyguard looked absolutely enraged at that, and Bog couldn’t imagine the Fairy King would be any happier. 

Any punishment Bog could mete out against the little invader would likely pale in comparison to the wrath of a protective father. 

He was about to tell them they could go, when Marianne (that was what the princess called her) rounded on him. 

“I’ll fight you for him. I win, we take Sunny home to face our justice. You win, he stays here and faces yours." 

… Well, that could be fun. Marianne clearly needed to vent some rage and Bog could do with an outlet as well. It had been a long time since he had fought someone else with wings. 

"Let’s take this back upstairs." 

The elf was restrained and brought up to join the audience. Stuff and Thang were both practically bouncing with excitement. The fairy princess looked worried and grim, but oddly pleased. 

Thang claimed the honour of counting down the fight. "Three … two … one – GO!" 

Marianne howled and threw herself at Bog, sword-first. He barely got his staff up in time to block her. 

She held the offensive for several minutes, stabbing and slashing at him while he dodged and swatted her blade away. 

Then Bog got a lucky hit, knocking her sword into the air – but then she grabbed his sceptre and pulled him closer and kicked him in the chest, using the leverage to launch herself and catch the sword before it hit the ground. 

"Impressive,” he said. 

The fight may have become slightly more … artistic, after that. Bog twirled his staff to get momentum for a strike. Marianne feinted an attack with one hand and rolled her sword over her shoulders to catch it in the other and strike from Bog’s other side. Bog found himself mimicking some of her flashier moves. He caught her mimicking him once or twice in return. 

“You fight well.” He hastily covered that up by adding, “for a fairy." 

"Wish I could say the same for you." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don’t know – I was expecting –” she knocked his staff aside and twirled closer for her next attack – “more?" 

Bog nearly roared, launching a new series of blows that drove his opponent back and into the air, following her up. They ended up destroying one of his chandeliers before tiring themselves out enough to have to land. 

Panting, shaking, Marianne raised her sword and pointed it at Bog’s heart. 

"I yield." 

She smiled. The tip of her sword hit the floor with a clang. 

There was applause. Griselda had joined the audience, and was saying to the princess, "Of course you won’t want to just fly off right after that, so how about you all have something to eat before you go?" 

Marianne glanced sideways at Bog and hissed, "Uh, who is –?" 

"My mother,” he said in exasperation. 

The elf was untied and Griselda bustled them all into the dining room, which she had decorated with hearts and streamers at some point since lunch. Bog groaned and decided that he didn’t want to know. 

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Chapter 9: Under the Moon

 Fair Maid

“An arm skis on roaches!” Thang announced. 

“What?” said Bog flatly. 

“That’s not it!” Stuff insisted. “An army approaches!” 

That didn’t seem likely either, but at least it was coherent. The guards swarmed to the gate and to posts surrounding the castle. 

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Wedding Imperial March

(This is a sequel to my Human AU ‘In Good Company’; it was inspired by this post by @magically-strange; used with permission.)

Dawn was, Sunny was half-certain, going to kill him for this. 

On the other hand, it was Marianne and Bog’s wedding, and he was acting on their request. Sunny and Dawn had had their wedding, and it had been perfect, and now it was Marianne and Bog’s turn to have their perfect day. 

Griselda and Dawn had basically taken over the wedding plans as soon as Bog and Marianne announced their engagement. The couple was happy to hand off the chore, insisting only that it be “small. We don’t want to make a huge production out of this.” 

Considering Marianne’s last attempted wedding, an elaborate Event Of The Century affair that had all gone to waste when she cancelled only hours before the ceremony, it wasn’t hard to convinced Dawn to tone it down. Griselda was so thrilled Bog was getting married at all she would’ve been only slightly disappointed if they’d insisted on having a paperwork-only wedding or eloping. 

Now their families and friends were gathered in a charming venue, flowers everywhere, watching the three bridesmaids – Viola, Iris, and Rosie, Marianne’s best friends from college – proceed down the aisle. Bog and his three groomspeople, Thaddeus, Brutus, and Stefania, were already at the head with the officiant; Marianne had passed on having her father escort her down the aisle, and the bridesmaids weren’t escorted either. 

Thaddeus was carrying a box. He was worried, he’d said, that he would forget his wedding present if he didn’t keep it with him. 

With perfect timing, Sunny changed the music as Marianne appeared. 

Everyone gasped. 

Marianne was all in white. Dawn had been insistent on that, finally loaning Marianne her wedding dress, a loose and draping gown that evoked ancient statues of goddesses, when Marianne refused to buy one. She was carrying a bouquet of white roses. Under her lacy veil, she wore a white Stormtrooper helmet. 

Instead of soft strings playing “dun, dun, dah-dun … dun, dun, dah-dun,” heavy brass boomed out, “DUN, DUN, DUN, DUN-DAH-DUN, DUN DAH-DUN!” 

By the time she reached her groom’s side, Bog had opened Thaddeus’ box and put on the Darth Vader helmet that had been smuggled in. 

The bridesmaids and groomspeople were laughing. Stefania was teasing Thaddeus about how well he’d kept the secret. The guests were getting over their shock and starting to chuckle. 

Marianne reached the front and handed the bouquet to Viola before taking Bog’s hands in hers. 

Dawn was red-faced and choking and Sunny wasn’t sure yet if it was with indignation or amusement. 

“Oh –!” she finally managed. “Oh, you two just think you’re so damn funny, don’t you!” 

“Yes.” Their voices were distorted by the synthesizers built into the helmets but completely in synch with each other, and audibly self-satisfied. 

Bog took off Marianne’s helmet during the unveiling. She took off his helmet in turn. They were given to Thaddeus for safekeeping for the rest of the ceremony. 

Yes, those were tears of laughter in Dawn’s eyes. Maybe Sunny would live. 

First Week On The Job

The heir to the Dark Forest throne had a reputation already. Rumour said he was snappish and irritable whenever something didn’t go as he’d planned it. All applicants so far for the post of Royal Aide had been driven off during their trial week serving him. Several had even fled before their turn came. 

Queen Griselda and the Pinecone King had given the Bog Prince full reign in the selection of his future aide or aides. Bog, picky but fair-minded, had opened the position to “anyone in the Forest who thinks they can do it. If you last a week, you will move on to the next stage of interviews." 

Thang was sure anyone so open-minded couldn’t be entirely terrifying. 

Thang had been trained in secretarial work. Outside of the school system and the government and maybe some of the larger hospitals, there was not much call in the Forest for his skills. He lived in a small town by the North River with one school and one hospital, both of which were fully staffed, and where the town council was small enough that members took turns taking minutes at meetings. 

Moving away was his best chance to find a job in his field. Even if he didn’t become Royal Aide, there must be other secretarial jobs available in the capital. 

No. That was quitter talk. Thang would impress the Bog Prince and he would get the job. 

His trial week started tomorrow. 

Stuff knew she was management material. 

She had been in nearly every club and team in her school and organized events to within an inch of their lives. She had helped out in the school office, building accreditations from the staff that would boost her status as a candidate in any job she applied for. She had volunteered her services in setting up nearly every public event in her city since puberty. 

And now a golden opportunity had fallen into her lap – a chance to manage the future king. To smooth out an infinitely complicated schedule and sort the priority level of every emergency in the country and see her kingdom flourish in direct response to her competence. 

Stuff grinned at herself in the mirror, and then assumed a more serious face. 

I am professional and respectable and the best candidate for this job. 

Her trial week started tomorrow. 

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You Should See Me Dance

Stuff was already tapping her feet with excitement, and the music hadn’t even started yet. Beside her, Thang was swaying, which may have been nerves since this was their first date. 

Several underground clubs had come out of the woodwork to collaborate in a massive public party. The king had either volunteered, or been volunteered by his mother, to fund the event, but had not been involved in organizing it. 

Goblins had still dated during the love ban, either publically while denying that the time spent together was romantic, or in secret locations that the Guard pretended not to know about. But now that the Bog King had repealed the law forbidding public romantic affection, couples and polyamorous groups wanted to celebrate being allowed to express their love in public once more – or for the first time, depending on when the relationship had first begun. 

Stuff and Thang had known each other for years, but, due to their proximity to the king as his aides, hadn’t even openly flirted until recently. Being on a date with Thang had Stuff giddy and uncharacteristically jumpy. This was going to be so much fun and she really wanted it to go well. 

There were more than just goblins in the crowd. The Bog King had given the elves an open invitation to attend any public festivities in the Dark Forest, feeling like he owed them a party after crashing their Spring Festival, and a number of other Fairy Kingdom citizens had also invited themselves. 

Considering … cultural differences in musical taste, it was unclear how long any of them would stay once the music started. On the other hand, a lot of the tunes were sure to be sappy and romantic, even if none of them matched ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch’. 

“Are you –? I’m having fun,” said Thang. “Are you having fun?” 

“Yeah. This is nice.” 

The band onstage finally sorted out their instruments and started playing. It was a simple, jazzy tune, good for warming up. Stuff grinned and pulled Thang out onto the dance floor. 

Thang bowed theatrically to her, making her laugh. They held up their hands and pressed palms, Stuff’s right to Thang’s left and his right to her left. They stepped close together, so close their chests brushed, then stepped back, their arms fully extended to keep their palms touching. 

Stuff twirled and Thang clapped. Their palms met again and they repeated the step-in-step-back move. This time Thang twirled and Stuff clapped. The two of them passed the spin back and forth for the duration on the short song. The trick was to spin in the opposite direction each time, except for kids, for whom getting dizzy was half the fun. 

“This is the most complicated dance I can do,” Thang warned her. “You’ll have to lead me in anything else.” 

“I can do that.” Stuff curled her fingers through his. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you get lost.” 

The next song was slower. Stuff showed Thang the formal position – his hand on her shoulder and hers on his waist, because she was leading, and because he was shorter than her, so her hand on his shoulder could feel like she was shoving him down but his hand on her shoulder felt more balanced – and waltzed him through it. 

When there wasn’t a hard percussion line, Thang easily lost his sense of rhythm, but without claws, his webbed feet couldn’t do much damage. 

Stuff started softly counting aloud. “One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three …” It seemed to help. 

The next song was another fast one. It wasn’t necessarily romantic, but it was very old and very popular. 

“My sisters and I used to dance to this one!” said Stuff excitedly. 

Stuff pulled Thang into a tight spin, then threw her arms up and kicked one leg out. She stomped her kicking foot down. She clapped her hands, still overhead, then reached out to Thang, who was rocking again, more-or-less to the beat, but may or may not have intended that as a dance move. 

He smiled at her and spun before taking her hands. 

“We can take a break if you want,” Stuff told him as they hopped together. 

“No, this is great! You really are a great dancer.” 

That sweet, earnest expression made Stuff want to kiss him, so she did. Thang squeaked and stumbled. Stuff caught him. 

“You okay?” 

“And a great kisser,” he answered dazedly. 

The musicians switched to a slow song again. It was jarring, how they completely changed tempos with each piece, but Stuff could see the logic behind it. This way no one had to wait ages for the music to switch back to their preferred speed. 

Thang and Stuff chatted while they dance. 

Each knew basics from their years of working together, like where the other grew up – Stuff in a big city with her sisters, Thang as an only child in a small town – or favourite food – Thang loved spicy dishes, the hotter the better, and Stuff could never eat enough savoury meat pies. 

But they’d missed other details, like favourite colours – Thang’s was blue, the shade of the sky just after sunset when it wasn’t fully dark yet, and Stuff’s was the searing gold-orange of certain autumn leaves – or childhood pets – Stuff had kept a succession of snails, and Thang had always wanted a spider but his parents had forbidden it, so he’d had to be content with naming local wild ones and pretending. 

On the next fast song, Thang did request a break, but also insisted that Stuff keep dancing. 

She cut loose, waving and leaping and spinning and kicking. When that song ended, Thang applauded her so enthusiastically that several other people joined in out of social reflex. 

“I think I need a break after that,” Stuff panted. 

“I found these at one of the buffet tables.” Thang presented a tray of tart-sized meat pies. 

“You,” Stuff informed him, “are the greatest.”