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Chapter Text

- One Decade Ago -  
 

"Dawn... it is perfectly safe." 

"Mmmmm." 

"It's only water! It's not going to harm you!" 

The young princess shook her head defiantly as she watched her older sister place a hand in the running stream. 

"Look," Marianne, the eldest princess said as she took off her shoe and dipped her toe in the water. She glanced back at her younger sister, who was still making a face. 

Marianne proceeded to dunk both her feet into the rushing stream. "See," she exclaimed plodding a bit, forgetting to lift her skirt, "utterly harmless."  

Once again Dawn gave another shake of her head, her golden bunches smacking her gently in the face as she did so. 

Marianne sighed and waded further out from the bank. "Suit yourself... I guess I will just have to have all the fun by myself..." Marianne teased, turning her back but silently looking over her shoulder at her younger sister. 

"Wait for me!" Dawn pleaded, edging near the bank. 

Marianne laughed, waddled back and placed her hands underneath Dawn's arms. In one swift movement, she lifted her up and placed her into the water which was still warm from the day's sun.  

Dawn giggled and plodded happily through the current. The young princesses splashed each other with water so that their garments were soaked through. Marianne didn't care, her younger sisters' squeals of excitement were enough for her. 

"Your Highnesses!" A shrill voice cried out. 

"Uh oh." Marianne said as Elizabet, the girls' handmaiden, ran over.  

"What are you two doing in there!" Wheezed Elizabet, her round face flushed. "You're both wetter than a stormy night!"  

"Hello Elizabet, a fine day isn't it?" Marianne said with a smile. 

"Your moxie will get you into trouble one of these days girl." Elizabet remarked. 

"We were only playing." Marianne huffed. She toyed with the idea of flicking some water up onto Elizabet's gown, but that wasn't fair to her. 

The girls had known her all their lives, she was firm but fair and loved them as if they were her own. 

"I'm afraid playing will have to cease; The King and Queen wish to speak with you."  

Before Marianne could ask if she was in some form of trouble, Elizabet continued.  

"They wish to speak to you prior to the departure tomorrow." 

Dawn looked up at Marianne with large, saucer-like eyes. 

"Do I have to?" Marianne pleaded. 

Elizabet put her hands on her hips, she looked powerful with her red cheeks standing on the edge of the bank, the sun dimming behind her. 

"Lizzie, please." Marianne begged but the handmaiden was having none of it.  

Eventually, Marianne gave in, sighing dramatically as she helped her little sister out of the water, then climbed out onto the muddy bank herself. 

*** 

Dawn sat in warm clothes at Marianne's feet as Elizabet attempted to control Marianne's wild hair. 

"Do you have to go?" Dawn asked. 

It was rare for Marianne to leave the kingdom and journey to other remote locations, but it was her role and responsibility as Crown Princess – as much as she hated leaving Dawn behind. 

Marianne grunted a response as Elizabet brushed her hair into obedience.  

"As Crown Princess, it is my duty to visit neighbouring settlements." Marianne recited similar to how her tutors taught her. "You'll be able to come to one day, perhaps when you're older." 

"I'm older enough!" Dawn exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks and getting to her feet. 

"Your Highness," Elizabet said as she finished attempting to control Marianne's hair. "You are only six years old." 

Dawn responded to this with a pout. Marianne leant down and ruffled her hair. "I promise, when you are older we can go travelling to the other settlements together."  

"Promise?" 

"Promise."  

Joy spread across the young princess' face as she kissed her older sister on the nose. 

"Now, you must get going your Highness. You've kept them waiting long enough."  

Marianne nodded and returned a kiss to her sister's forehead before leaving the room and heading down corridors towards the throne room.  

The guardsmen on the door smiled at her as she approached. 

"Good evening your Highness, your parents are waiting for you inside." Greeted Pare, the larger of the two guards. 

"Thank you Pare, how is your son?" Marianne asked inquisitively.  

Sunny, Pare's only son was said to be named so, due to being born under the blistering summer sun's rays. He was two years older than Dawn and often when allowed, the three would play together quite merrily. 

"Sunny is fine and well, thank you for asking your Highness."  

"Once I return, I'm sure both Dawn and myself would like to see him."  

Pare smiled, "I'm sure we can arrange something. Now, would you like us to announce you?"  

"No thank you, I am sure they do not want to discuss anything special."  

"Very well," Pare said as he pushed open the large door situated between him and his fellow guardsmen. "Good luck." He whispered as she entered. 

Marianne slipped through the small crack and once she was firmly inside, the door slammed shut behind her alerting her parents. 

"Ah, Marianne!" The king exclaimed, rising from his throne. "We have been waiting for you."  

Marianne's mother, the Queen also got to her feet and pulled Marianne in for a hug. "Darling," She said, bending down to observe her daughter's gown. "There is dried mud on your hem."  

"I was playing," Marianne responded defensively. She didn't have time to change and Elizabet had tried her hardest to remove any evidence of the afternoon's adventures in the brook. 

"As long as it was not with pretend swords again." The king huffed. 

The Queen laughed softly and playfully tapped her husband. "Oh Dagda, my love. She is both young and adventurous, much like someone I knew when they were younger."  

The King huffed once again, a flash of blush across his cheeks. 

Marianne bit her lip so to not let out a giggle. 

"Marianne," Her father began to say. "You are the Crown Princess of Fairon and before you know it you will inherit this kingdom as your birthright." 

Marianne nodded, "I know father and I accept that responsibility."  

"Good...good." The King looked to his wife, and she simply gave a nod of reassurance.  

"When you are coronated, you will become the first Queen of Royal Blood the kingdom has ever seen. Throughout history, Fairon has always been led by a King, a male heir." The king shifted, almost awkwardly before proceeding. "Although you will be Queen in your own right, the law of the land still stands."  

"Law?" Marianne asked, her brow creased. Her tutors had taught her the basics of the Kingdom's ancient laws, but there was a great deal she still did not know. 

"When you take up the crown..." The king said with hesitation, "you will also have to take a husband."  

"A WHAT?!" Marianne cried, "but I'm ten!"  

"You won't be aged ten when you become ruler, dear." Her mother unhelpfully inputted. 

"But... but... I don't want a husband." Marianne sulked. She had no interest in boys or anyone else for that matter. She was strong enough to be a ruler by herself. 

The King and Queen shared a worried look. 

"I can rule by myself!" Marianne protested by to no avail. 

The frowns on her parents' faces were enough to cease any potential argument. 

"What if I can't find one I like?" Marianne asked. 

"You don't have to worry about that." Her father said, bending down to rest a hand on her shoulder. 

She felt comforted, at least it was something she did not have to worry about at this precise moment. 

"We have already chosen a suitor for you!"  

"What?!" Marianne cried, horrified that her parents would do this to her.  

The king called out towards a side door located on the left of the main door. Before Marianne could object the door swung open and a young boy, polished and proud waltzed in.  

A taller man, dressed in dark robes followed closely behind. 

"Your Majesties." The young boy said with a bow. 

He turned to Marianne, took her hand and kissed it. "Princess Marianne."  

Marianne wanted to pull her hand away that instant, but she knew such an act would displease her parents. She smiled sweetly and curtsied like Elizabet always encouraged. 

"Marianne," Her mother started to say, "This is Lord Roland Highworth of the Eastern Isles. He is your betrothed."  

Marianne stood there in silence. 

He couldn't have been more than three years older than her, his hair was like golden straw smoothed back aside from one stray lock. His eyes were the deepest green and reminded Marianne of the meadows she would practise her secret sword fighting in.  

She really, really didn't want to marry him.  

"Marianne?" Her father asked in a tone that she had become accustomed too. 

"Charmed to meet you, my Lord." Marianne said eventually.  

"And this," The king said, allowing the robed man to step forward, "is his caretaker; Sciurus."  

The man bowed. "Thank you for your hospitality your Majesties."  

"Now," The king said, "unfortunately the Queen and Princess must set off travelling tomorrow and will not return for a few days. However, in their absence why don't we take the time to tour the castle as well as the kingdom?"  

Roland looked over his shoulder at Sciurus who silently nodded.  

"It would be my pleasure, your Majesty." Roland said, his green eyes twinkling. 

Marianne rolled her eyes. 

*** 

The following morning, a majority of the castle stood by the gates to watch the Queen and Crown Princess leave for their dutiful travels.  

"I can't believe I have to get married." Marianne whined to her younger sister and a nearby Elizabet.  

"Oh, come now your Highness." Elizabet encouraged. "I'm sure he's a fine young Lord." 

"I don't trust him or his robed caretaker." Marianne muttered. 

Elizabet sighed, "honestly nor do I, not that it's my place to say such things." She bent down so she was both Dawn and Marianne's height. "You'll be doing it for the good of the kingdom and your parents know what is best for you, alright?" 

"Alright..." Marianne repeated reluctantly. "But I still don't want to be married."  

"But you'll get a wedding!" Dawn exclaimed, clearly still excited by the news. 

"But I'll also get a husband and I don't want that." 

"There is always cake at weddings."  

Marianne had not thought about that, but maybe there was some benefit to marriage after all. "I'll consider it." She said, hugging her sister and handmaiden farewell. 

Before she climbed into the coach, she had to speak to Roland. Her parents had positioned him nearest the coach, she couldn't have avoided him even if she tried. 

"Your Highness." Sciurus acknowledged, his hands firmly on Roland's shoulders.  

Marianne bowed, the robed man made her feel uneasy.  

"Safe travels Marianne." Roland said, "I thought it best to give you this now... as a... token of our union."  

He produced a small pendant that lay in his palm. It glistened as it caught the morning's sun.  

"It's... beautiful." Marianne said, taking it and holding it up for analysis.  

"Would you like me to help you put it on?" The young Lord asked. 

Marianne nodded and let the Lord secure the latch to hold the pendant in place. The Princess twirled the jewel in her fingers once more.  

"Thank you." She whispered. 

After saying the final of her goodbyes, Marianne climbed into the coach. Her mother was already seated patiently inside awaiting her heir.  

It would take just shy of a day to reach their desired location, but in the few trips Marianne had previously made she had become quite good at passing the time. She would sit near the window and watch the rushing of the trees and imagine what it would be like to run between them, the wind soaring through your hair and no fancy clothes getting ripped by the sharp twigs.  

Sometimes, only when the sun shone through the overhanging trees, did Marianne think she saw a figure darting through the woodland. 

As daytime became dusk, Marianne and her mother watched the high sun set. The Queen encouraged Marianne to go over a few notes prior to their arrival. As stars began to shine over the moving carriage, the young princess yawned and slumped against her seat. 

It was common for Marianne to fall asleep just before they arrived, but her mother never seemed to look tired, she always stayed wide awake for the duration of the journey.  

"Did you want to get married?" Marianne asked her mother, pulling her eyes away from the world beyond her window. 

"Not at all." The Queen remarked, "I never wanted to, but then I met your father and I... just knew."  

"How?"  

"It is difficult to put it into words, but I presume that it was true love and just meant to be."  

"True love?" Marianne echoed. 

"Yes," The Queen said, smiling to herself. "You just get a feeling when you meet them."  

"I didn't get a feeling when I saw Roland..." Marianne mumbled. 

Her mother reached and squeezed her hand. "You are still so young Marianne, I know how hard this is for you and it is a lot to take in, but in time it will all work out."  

Marianne yawned in response, the moon now high above them.  

"It is late my dear, take a nap. I'm sure we will be arriving shortly." 

The Queen kissed her eldest daughter on the head and with that Marianne curled up and slept. 

*** 

The carriage bolted and the sudden speed change sent the princess flying.  

Marianne rolled from where she slept and hit the floor with a thump. 

"What was that?" Marianne asked, the carriage was pitch black except for the weak moonlight shining in.  

"I do not know darling," her mother said, scooping Marianne off the floor and holding her close to her chest. "Everything will be alright."  

The coach skidded and tumbled, but managed to stay balanced and gradually came to a stop. 

Marianne's mother called out to the driver but there was no response.  

After a few seconds passed, she unlocked the carriage door and climbed out.  

"Stay here Marianne, please."  

Her mother had taken no more than two steps before Marianne climbed out of the carriage to follow her, staying close to her mother's shadow.  

As they approached the front of the carriage, the ground became wetter – Marianne's shoes sticking to the earth's surface.  

Both Queen and Princess gasped upon finding the driver's body – lifeless and mangled. 

In the dim moonlight, Marianne could make out the mess of limbs, blood had seeped and ruined his clothes and dripped furiously into a crimson pool on the dirt track. 

The horses were nowhere to be seen too. 

Marianne clenched at her mother's gown, her shoes becoming stained from the blood that ran on the ground beneath her. 

"Marianne." Her mother whispered slowly, fear present in her voice. "Get back inside the carriage and do not make any noise." 

Stepping backwards slowly, Marianne backtracked towards the carriage. Her feet crunched quietly against the gravel. Her heart surged with terror, Marianne wanted to cry, to scream but she obeyed her mother and kept quiet, scared to even breathe.  

Her foot slipped on the crimson ground and she skidded and hit something hard. 

Arms tightly grabbed her, crushing her so that it felt like her ribs would burst under the pressure. Marianne cried out, trying to kick the figure that held her. Her ankles smashed against the hard skin and the figure did not even flinch.  

"Shut your filthy mouth." A low voice growled into her ear but Marianne carried on screaming.  

"LET HER GO! PLEASE, SHE IS ONLY A CHILD!" Her mother howled. 

The air escaped her lungs and tears blurred her vision, but amidst the darkness and faint glow of the distant moon Marianne could make out her mother, forced onto her knees – held in place by two foreboding figures, Marianne couldn't see their faces but they stood like monsters in the blackness. 

"PLEASE!" The Queen shrieked, her voice filled with desperation. 

A shadow moved through the murk, it stood apart from the others – this one seemed dangerous but as the air was squeezed out of Marianne she lost focus.  

The shadow moved slowly, the distant sound of footsteps could be heard approaching and that is when Marianne felt something sharp dig and twist into her stomach, she could feel the blood leaving her and soaking her gown as well as the ground beneath her.   

Her body fell limp as she was chucked onto the floor like she was nothing more than a ragdoll.  

Marianne could still feel the blood trickling out of her, the warm liquid turning cold as it touched the night air.  

She lay still, her body now in shock and rigid. Marianne could barely open her eyes, her vision askew. The figure that stabbed her moved forward in the dark, lurching towards the Queen.  

A blade flashed in the moonlight, it gleamed brightly where it wasn't stained with Marianne's blood. 

The knife flashed again as it was raised in the air and once more when it slashed across her mother's neck. 

Marianne could only watch as the Queen's eyes widened, blood splattering upwards onto her face. 

The body was dropped onto the ground where it slumped, blood seeping from the wound mixing with dirt.  

Marianne had no energy left in her to cry, she just wanted to wake up from whatever horrible nightmare this was.  

"Finish off the girl." A cruel voice snarled. 

Suddenly there was a thump and Marianne's entire world went dark.  

*** 

 - The Present -  
 

Bog leaned back in his chair and slowly took a sip from his tankard. 

"So," He grunted between sips, "let me see if I completely understand your request." 

"You believe your sister did not die that night. That she is, potentially, still alive out there... somewhere but just does not remember who she is otherwise she would have come back to Fairon?"  

"Yes."  

"You do realise how absurd that is. Patrols found the bodies and the condition they were in."  

"They never found hers."  

Bog sighed deeply, what would it take to make this girl understand, the situation was hopeless. 

"I understand that it was a massive tragedy for you-"  

"-for the whole kingdom."  

"Yes..." Bog added hesitantly. Not everyone was fans of the Royal Family, especially in recent years. "Well regardless, the chances of finding the Crown Princess are slim to none."  

"People talk, and they spoke of you being the best tracker. Please... I just, I just need to know what happened."  

Bog frowned, reclining once again in his chair and stroked his sharp chin. He observed the young woman, her blue eyes large and glistening over with fresh tears.  

Even if it was a lost cause, a large sum of money was being invested into this venture personally. It would not hurt to head to the location of the murder and scout out for a while. 

"Fine Princess, you got yourself a deal."  

Chapter Text

Bog was the most ruthless and fearsome bounty hunter in all the kingdom. 

And he wanted it kept that way.  

But when the Princess had sought him out, with her heart-wrenching sob story, he had accepted the hunt of the Crown Princess who was, for the last decade, presumed dead. Regardless of the fact that it was a waste of time.  

He had retired to his local tavern to enjoy an ale after the few hunts of the day when the bartender led him into a back room. 

The room, which looked to be the owner's living quarters were meagre, but perched on the other side of an oak table that took up a majority of the space sat a cloaked figure. 

Bog sat down opposite, taking a swig of his beverage. 

Nimble hands reached up and removed the heavy hood, and Bog was speechless as a young blonde sat opposite him. 

Bog thought she must barely be of age, she seemed far too young... and clean to be in a place such as this.  

Her golden hair was rolled tight, so none would show under the hood and her large blue eyes blinked at him with awe and worry.  

It was then Bog realised the girl's identity. 

"I can't be touched by the King." Bog sneered, "my services are perfectly legal and it helps keep crime down." He narrowed his eyes, an attempt to make the Princess feel as uncomfortable as possible. 

The young princess fumbled with her hands under the table before speaking.  

"I am well aware of your legal activities Mr Kingston." 

"I go by Bog."  

The Royal ignored him, "I am here because I need someone with your skillset."  

Bog leaned in, intrigued. "Does the crown want someone... removed."  

"That would be assassination, which both of us know you do not do. So, no that is not the skillset I require."  

Bog's expression dropped and he fell backwards in his chair. "Well, what is it then?" He asked taking another gulp from his glass. 

The princess fumbled once more with her hands.  

"Are you familiar with the events that transpired ten years ago on the road from Fairon?"  

"Where the Queen was brutally murdered and-" Bog stopped himself short upon seeing the girl's blue eyes enlarging.  

"...and the Crown Princess went missing." She finished. 

"Missing? I'm certain they said she was-" 

"My sister is not dead."  

Bog exhaled and leaned in towards the Princess. He acknowledged how heartbreaking it would have been, for a child of such a young age to lose not only one family member, but two. Privileged or not, no child should have to endure such heartache. Bog knew that feeling all too well after all his father died when he was a mere boy. 

"Look-" Bog began to say, but the Princess continued to speak. 

"My sister... Marianne did not die that night. The scouts, the reports they all say the same. That the only bodies they found were the driver... and my mother." She looked away from Bog as if allowing herself to regain composure. 

"Marianne's body was nowhere to be seen and was not found even after my Father send out search parties. But as more men returned to say that nothing had been found, he gave up hope... he gave up entirely. He could not believe that something so cruel... so evil... could happen to both him and his people."  

The King was rarely seen these days, he kept himself secluded within the castle grounds – his governors and council took charge for most things. There were rumours he had gone mad after the murders, but Bog knew rumours carried both a little truth and a little nonsense.  

"I believe, as I always have... that Marianne is out there, somewhere. A theory I have looked into is that she might not remember who she is or where she came from. Otherwise, she would have come home."  

Bog leaned back in his chair and slowly took a sip from his tankard.  

"So," He grunted between sips, "let me see if I completely understand your request."  

"You believe your sister did not die that night. That she is, potentially, still alive out there... somewhere but just does not remember who she is otherwise she would have come back to Fairon?"   

"Yes."   

"You do realise how absurd that is. Patrols found the bodies and the condition they were in."   

"They never found hers."   

Bog sighed deeply, what would it take to make this girl understand, the situation was hopeless.  

"I understand that it was a massive tragedy for you-"   

"-for the whole kingdom."   

"Yes..." Bog added hesitantly. Not everyone was fans of the Royal Family, especially in recent years. "Well regardless, the chances of finding the Crown Princess are slim to none."   

"People talk, and they spoke of you being the best tracker. Please... I just, I just need to know what happened."   

Bog frowned, reclining once again in his chair and stroked his sharp chin. He observed the young woman, her blue eyes large and glistening over with fresh tears.   

Even if it was a lost cause, a large sum of money was being invested into this venture personally. It would not hurt to head to the location of the murder and scout out for a while.  

"Fine Princess, you got yourself a deal."   

* 

"I shouldn't have accepted such a stupid hunt from a girl who is clearly deranged." Bog muttered to himself under his breath.  

The Princess had paid a deposit, giving her word the rest would be accounted for once Bog had ventured out and provided evidence of his hunt.  

He was given a month, and by the month's end, Princess Dawn would send someone to hear Bog's report. 

No one was to know of this arrangement besides a selective few, after all, if people knew the Princess had hired a Bounty Hunter, eyebrows would be raised along with questions. 

Bog manoeuvred through the dark alleys that lay between slim streets, his feet gliding quickly against the cobbled ground. The last rays of the sun were dying on the horizon as Bog made his way back home.

It was nightfall by the time Bog crossed his threshold – a secluded shack which only fueled his reputation as a cold hunter and fearsome individual further.  

A small man was sitting outside, perched on a hacked tree stump. He was working by candlelight, sharpening knives. 

"Tien." Bog greeted on approach.  

Tien was one of the few people Bog surrounded himself with. The man, gifted with inventing weapons resided at the shack and aided with Bog's inventory for missions. 

Although described by many as being frog-like, Tien bore the scars from many bar fights, although small in size Tien did not lack the strength or ferocity needed to take a larger man down. 

"Ah, you're back!" He exclaimed, removing the goggles that protected his large, protruding eyes and placing the finished knife on a chain that hung from his belt. "Finish those jobs?"  

"Like you even need to ask." Bog said, throwing Tien a bag of coins. 

He caught it and smiled. "Nicely done!" Tien commented before peering into the bag and quickly counting its contents.  

"Who is here?" Bog asked, unhooking his crossbow from his back. 

Tien looked up briefly before recounting the gold coins. "Shiv, came back ages ago from a few local jobs." He paused. "Oh, and your mother is inside moaning about you finding a wife for what, the twelfth time today? It's the reason I work outside as often as I do."  

Bog groaned and headed inside, Tien still focusing on the money. 

The shack was plain and almost bare. Bog didn't need anything but the basics, as they meant survival. Everything else was a burden, a decorative item that was not needed. 

Bog had found the shack himself while on patrol for the Royal guard. It was a part of his life he did not look back on with fond memories. 

His mother had been so proud of him, but during those few years, Bog saw how there was a divide between the people, how the nobles lived in a world of their own. 

He witnessed criminals being let go simply because they had wealth, and he refused to be part of that regime. 

With his knowledge of the laws and the loopholes within them, Bog had set up his own service. There was few, if not anyone who knew Bog when he was a guardsman, after all, it was a uniform they looked at, not a face.  

He had always been skilled at tracking, the hunt was what Bog lived for. Soon he earned a reputation for being a skilled hunter and it was then people enquired about bounties; to see if Bog could find certain people, track them and bring them to justice. 

But Bog had one rule, he would not kill. Not unless he needed to, he was fierce in a fight and had enough scars to prove it, he had taken a few lives and threatened many. 

Tien had joined Bog's crusade early on, insisting that he would never get the job done without the proper tools. Shiv had entered on a different note.  

Shiv was an orphan who was kidnapped at a young age and became part of one of the numerous underground gangs that were flited throughout the kingdom. The name was given to her for her quick temper and knack for making objects sharp and useful. 

Someone had placed a Bounty on her head, and upon an agreement when she was finally found - Shiv sold out every gang member, freeing future children from a life of crime. She just wished someone could have given her a chance for freedom, and that was when Bog invited her to work alongside him.  

His mother, on the other hand was an entirely different story. The woman attached herself to her son like a fly caught in honey determined to make her only son's life a living hell. 

Still, Bog often thought to himself, it was safer for her here. 

Griselda stood by an open fire, her mass of thick, red hair bobbing up and down as she repetitively stirred a large pot, the contents of what boiled at the brim. Shiv sat at the other side of the room, her legs on the table, engrossed with reading. 

"You're home!" Griselda sang as she threw her arms into the air, carelessly ignoring that the ladle she was holding had just flung its hot substance across the room. Shiv lowered her reading material and raised a scarred eyebrow as the yellow liquid splattered on the stone wall next to her. 

"Now, have you found a proper occupation yet?" Griselda began, "You know woman won't like this dangerous lifestyle you are so set on leading. I know I don't! What about the children Bog? You can't raise children when you go out and kill people, it's bad influencing."  

"I don't kill people." Bog inputted but it was useless, his mother had already started her whirlwind of despair.  

Griselda continued to nag as she filled supper bowls and placed them on top of the table where Shiv was seated. "Another thing! How are you going to meet anyone if all you do in your free time is drink or shoot people with that damned crossbow!" Griselda tapped against Shiv's boots to which she responded without a word by placing her legs under the table, too engaged with what she was reading to argue. 

"I don't need to meet anyone mother." Bog countered. "I live a good life earning a decent wage at doing what I do best."  

"Ha!" Griselda remarked as she waved her arms in the air. "You know, I met this lovely girl down at the market the other day. Sweet as a button she was, although she wasn't the smartest thing. I said how I had a son who would love to be married to a charming girl like her and suggested that the two of you meet." Griselda clasped her hands together, staring off into the distance as if watching the imaginary wedding from afar. "Oh, she was so thrilled with the idea..." Griselda said, her voice trailing off and her face dropping. 

"...Until I mentioned your name."  

"What did you even expect?" Bog muttered as he pulled up a seat. He had no clue as to why his mother still bothered when he himself gave up on love years ago.  

Even as a guardsman, he was rejected. No woman would look twice at him. So, he just made a name for himself and obtained an occupation that suited both him and his cold heart. He had no time for love. 

Tien joined them, taking the last seat. He placed the bag of money proudly on the table and beamed. "We can finally get those parts for that upgrade now."  

"No weapon talk at the table!" Griselda snapped. 

Tien sulked and played with the bowl of steaming liquid that sat in front of him.  

The air stayed silent until Griselda spoke again. "I just want you to meet a nice woman Bog, I want you to be happy and you never meet any women." 

Shiv grunted to which Griselda rolled her eyes. "You don't count."  

"I meet women." Bog said defensibly. 

"You do?" Tien asked looking up from his bowl. There was a sharp sound of someone being kicked as the table jolted slightly.  

"Yeah... of course you do!" He stumbled, glaring at Shiv and rubbing his knee. 

"Really? Is that so?" Griselda asked, her eyes wide with suspicion. "Name one woman you met today."  

Bog was sick of this constant badgering by his mother, so he couldn't help himself when the chance to shut his mother up arose. 

"Princess Dawn."  

Everything went silent for a moment until Shiv slammed her book onto the table, causing her bowl to spill some of its contents. 

"WHAT?" She roared. 

Griselda blinked as if she had not quite understood her son's response. 

"Are we being investigated by the Crown? I cleaned up those loose ends exactly like you briefed me, I swear if I need to, I will chop-" 

"No, we are not Shiv." Bog said, which calmed her down instantly. 

"Good." She said, resuming her reading, her short, fine hair the only part visible behind the parchment.   

Griselda, still in shock looked at the now passive Shiv to Bog, ignoring Tien as he had already resumed eating. 

"What do you mean you meet the Princess?!" She exclaimed. 

With a deep exhale Bog told them of the private exchange with the young Royal, about how this was to be kept secret and her unwavering belief that the Crown Princess was still alive. 

*** 

The plan was for Bog to set out at dusk, riding through the night and majority of the day before arriving in the area which the murder had taken place all those years before. 

It had been seven days since the royal had sought out the bounty hunter but, in that time, Bog had prepared. He had followed up on rumours of exact sightings, however, they were not much to go on but they were better than nothing.  

As the sun began to sink on the seventh day, Bog set out on horseback. As he rode out of Fairon the surrounding landscape changed, gradually hills formed into high mountains as a small group of trees eventually became a cluster of a deep thicket. It was dusk the following night when Bog arrived on a dirt track that seemed to be forgotten.  

Birdsong became lost in the forest, and as the woodland started to become denser his horse refused to go any further. 

"Looks like it'll have to be on foot." He grumbled as he tied the reins to a low hanging branch.  

He manoeuvred his way over the brambles and snuck into the undergrowth, the dying rays of the sun were barely making any of the surroundings visible and Bog knew that if he were to light a torch all this shrubbery would be instantly up in flames. 

Bog kept low, avoiding the looming overhead branches. Thick ivy twirled up the trunks of trees and hung all around, challenging to ensnare anyone who got close enough. 

The deeper he got the less light was available, he had been walking for what he seemed hours. This was hopeless, no human could find their way through this growth and there was no way the princess was still alive. If she somehow ended up in these forests she probably bled out from her injuries or was eaten by something.  

Bog turned to go back, but as he did so the soil from underneath him crumbled and he was sent tumbling down at rapid speed. He went for his knife, grabbed it and plunged it into the earth wall in an attempt to slow himself down. It was to no avail as large rocks protruded out from the soil and Bog fell onto one hard.  His crossbow broke most of his fall as it shattered underneath him, but the impact was strong enough to send Bog falling once again, head first this time. He tried to reach out, grab anything he could but everything was flying past him.  

His foot snagged, and he was flipped. He reached out again desperately and his knife caught another vine, which broke and he plummeted further. The ground was rushing up to meet him, and Bog braced himself for the worst but he was caught by a large clump of vines, which broke apart on his impact and then he hit the floor, his head cracking against it with a large thump. 

The splinters from his crossbow rained around him as he lay there unconscious, deep within the floor of the forest. 

Chapter Text

Slowly, the feeling came back to his limbs. 

Bog moved his hands first, letting his fingers twitch. He did the same for his arms and legs, nothing seemed broken but the burning of his muscles was nearly unbearable. 

His entire body was sore and screaming - while attempting to sit up a fresh burst of raw pain surged in his shoulder.  

"Shit." Bog cursed through gritted teeth, falling back to his initial position on the forest floor. 

The pain had made the blurriness leave his vision, but his eyes still stung. The long fall must have done a lot of damage, but it could have been a lot worse. 

The soft, silver rays of moonlight illuminated the grove in which he lay.  

Quickly and without much thought, Bog attempted to stand, but the weight he let his damaged muscles carry made his tired bones scream. The sudden rush of pain made the endeavour unsuccessful, and he stayed there on the ground trying to gather what little strength he could muster. 

Carefully Bog slowly tried to ease himself upwards, and he managed to stand before wobbling and crashing back down to the ground. Bog muttered an obscenity under his breath as he pushed himself up enough to get a good look at his surroundings. 

His crossbow, his favourite weapon, lay in shattered pieces around him. The sharp wood segments laying dully between the moss and wild grass.  

Bog wondered if this was how the Princess had felt, scared and alone in the depth of an abyss no one ever trod out of fear for the unknown. 

If she wasn't dead by the time she hit the floor that was. 

Bog managed to crane his neck upwards to face the location from which he fell. The bank from where his foot had originally slipped was brimming just out of sight, the loose vines that broke his fall swayed, their snapped bodies blowing gracefully in the wind.  

He was lucky to have survived such a fall. 

As the pain swirled around in his body, Bog tried to think logically. If the Princess was on the road that lay on the bank, how did she make her way through the undergrowth? It was thick and heavy and it seemed to take Bog ages to make a single directional route though. Not only that, but the ground gave way...  

If the princess did fall, surely there would be a body – a skeleton of sorts. 

Bog lowered his sights to the surrounding forest floor, he craned his neck to the best of his ability without it causing him too much discomfort. There was no skeleton, no carcass to indicate a person had ever been here. 

Regardless of the hunt, Bog needed a plan to get out of this place. He had thought nothing was broken, but from the agonising pain in his shoulder and the other areas in his body, he wasn't too sure. 

The significant pounding in his head was gradually becoming worse, but he was sure it was nothing an ale couldn’t fix. 

There was no way he was able to climb the cliff face, not in his state. The best chance was to find a safe, secluded location, camp and wait until first light. 

Bracing himself for the sharp, throbbing pain, Bog pushed himself upwards on his good arm. He tried to ignore his body's response to the fresh agonizing torture that he inflicting upon himself. Gradually he got to his feet, making sure to pick up the metal bolt that lay between the shards of his former weapon.  

As he rose to his full height, the ringing in his skull almost made it unbearable to keep his eyes open, but he managed to make out the forest in the moonlit gloom that surrounded him. 

Large trees loomed above; their high, twisted branches dripping in vines. Ferns and foreign types of flora were bushed up together along the forest floor, all on the outskirts of the clearing Bog had fallen into. The ground was relatively soft, a thick layer of moss covering the earth, and it seemed to stay that way as it reached out into the darkness of the forest.  

The moon shone overhead, the thick branches cutting off most of the light. But the few rays that sneaked through lit up the areas it touched.

Bog almost missed it within the shadows, but upon a large tree root that rose like a giant out the ground, was an irregular shape.  

The shape was still and Bog focused on it, making an unconscious decision to hobble forward. 

Bog could feel eyes on him, burning into his skin and observing his every move. 

Then, as if it realised Bog too was looking at it, it moved. 

In shock, Bog stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding falling once more.  

After a moment Bog sighed, scolding himself for allowing the feared Bounty Hunter of Fairon, to be scared by a mere animal. 

The creature had fled, leaping from the enlarged root and scurrying off into the trees. 

What had he expected? That it was a human watching him? Of course, it wouldn't be a human, no one in their right mind would be down here, nor would they survive. Surely there were animals lurking within these areas but that was all. Still, if something was to confront him, Bog was not in the best condition to take anything on.  

Fixated on finding somewhere to camp until sunrise, Bog took a couple of disjointed steps until a raw agony burst from his knee. His leg gave way under the strain and he fell hard onto the mossy earth.  

The pain within him doubled everywhere as the side of his body smashed against the forest's surface. It seemed that he may not be even capable of walking, let alone finding somewhere safe to rest.  

With the last of his strength, Bog pushed once more on his good arm, the muscles shaking as they obeyed, and pushed himself against a nearby rock for back support.  

Bog sat there, his back perched up close against the smooth stone as moonlight soaked the spot in which the figure had once stood.  

He had no energy, no strength left.  

He needed to wait, wait until he could pull himself along and create a makeshift splint or something for his wounds. 

But for now, there was nothing he could do as the pain intensified. His vision blurred, the corners of his eyes gradually losing the sharpness of his eagle vision. 

Hunters from ages past had said the last thing to go was your hearing, and they must have been right as Bog heard a scamper. It was only distant, a small sound that a novice would have missed with ease. 

The scamper came again, louder this time. Then again, as if something was closing in on him. Bog clutched weakly at the crossbow bolt that lay in his palm. He wouldn't die, not today. 

Thick shrubbery about a hundred meters from where Bog lay, rustled. The leaves swaying as if caught in the night's air. 

Bog could once again feel the eyes on him, watching him with interest and curiosity. 

He stared back, fixated on the shrub. He poured all his strength into the hand clutching meagerly at the bolt, he would only have one swing but that was all it would take if something was too attack him.  

The forest was eerie and silent in that moment, and if Bog wasn't in his current position, he would have called the scene peaceful. 

Whatever lay in the bush must have dismissed Bog as a threat, because for what felt like an eternity there was no sound, no movement.  

Bog was about to believe the creature was gone when something emerged from the thicket.  

A humanoid figure stood tall in the moonlight, the rays casting one half of its frame in light, the other shadow. 

For a second, it stayed still like a statue, continuously watching Bog's actions. Then slowly, it crept forward, each step more cautious than the last as it approached.

Bog opted to stay still, frozen and quiet. He could hardly move his body even if he wanted too and he hoped whoever this was they would acknowledge that Bog, in his current state, was definitely no threat.  

As the figure came closer, it slowed, allowing Bog to gradually take in more detail. 

It wore a heavy mask which seemed to be made from a thick, rich oak. Blue swirls were painted around the makeshift eye sockets. A shawl of forest debris, leaves and broken vines were stitched together to form a headdress of sorts. 

Bog couldn't see the actual eyes, but he could still feel them on him, burning into him like they had done so earlier. 

Curiosity aside, the person had an air of hunting knowledge about them. 

The clothes they wore were battered and basic, pieces of cloth and hide stitched together heavily to create layers of warmth and protection. The arms were bare, but Bog could make out the blue swirls, similar to that on the mask, painted onto the skin. The arms themselves were muscled and toned, enhanced further by the cloth bracelets that sat tight against the upper arm.  

The figure was close enough now that Bog could see the faint scars and marks that ran all along the stranger's skin.  

But what he noticed most, was how there was fine hair, delicate bone structure; it had to be a woman.  

Bog wasn't a fool, he knew women could kill as much as men and they were not to be dismissed with ease, but he was intrigued.  

Why was a woman out here? Why was anyone out here? The markings she bore on her skin, he had never seen these types of design throughout his travels as both guardsman and bounty hunter. They seemed to be of both a distant, foreign place as well as time. 

Bog kept his gaze on the woman, it was the only thing that was keeping his mind afloat and not succumb to the pain that bore him down. 

The woman perched near Bog, eyeing the metal bolt carefully.  

Although his fingers were loosely holding it, he was reluctant to let go. 

The woman paused, and then turned and in that moment out of fear at what she would do, Bog attempted to grip and rise the bolt, but he failed. 

To his surprise, she pulled out a clump of grass, knotted together with the loose wisps poking out. She offered it to him, and upon realising Bog had no strength to lift his hand to take it, she pushed it to his mouth. 

Bog tightened his lips, he had no idea what this was, it could be poisonous for all he knew. 

In irritation, the woman offered it once more, but again he refused. 

Annoyed, the woman clenched the ball in her fist and reached up to her mask. Her fingers nimbly pushing the mask upwards until it rested on the back of her head. 

Bog's breath caught. 

She was beautiful. 

A fierce beautiful, the kind of beauty that showed her strength as both woman and warrior. Her wild hair was ruffled from the mask and darted in many directions. But it was her eyes, so intense, full or various emotions and the blazing colour of amber that drew Bog in.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes continuously moving over all of Bog; tracing his shoulder, legs and the crossbow bolt. 

"It will help." She explained. 

She uncurled her fist to reveal the small ball of grass, "This will ease the pain."  

She offered it once more and saw Bog's hesitation. "It isn't poisonous."  

Reluctantly, Bog parted his lips and allowed for the grass to enter his mouth. He took a bite, it was sweet and bitter at the same time, the prickled texture trickling down his throat as he swallowed. He took another, consuming the entire ball.  

"Broken?" The mysterious woman asked. 

Bog only stared at her and his lack of response made her crease her brow. 

"Your shoulder?" She asked again, more agitated this time.  

"No." Bog managed to say, his voice hoarse. With each passing second, his vision became unclouded and the pain was beginning to numb.  

"It's doing the trick then." The woman mumbled as she shifted over to the side of Bog where his painful shoulder was. 

Her fingers, long, slender and dirty reached for his clothes. He went to move away from her touch, but the sudden jolt caused him to cry out.  

"Refuse my help and you'll die." She said matter-of-factly, before returning to unhook her fingers under the fabric. Bog could feel the warmth of her skin against the coldness of his own. Her tips pressed around the area, to which Bog responded by hissing quietly. 

As she attended his shoulder, Bog took her in. 

Whoever she was, she was far different than the women he knew back from Fairon and the other neighbouring settlements. The women of the kingdom preferred elegant garments and smelled as if they bathed all day long in rose water.

This woman was the opposite. Battle scars and war wounds a plenty marked the little skin she was showing. She was toned, her muscles silently speaking of her strength. She wore no enhancements, aside from the crusted blue paint that adorned her cheeks.  

As she leant in, Bog could smell the forest; the pine needles, the moss. It was as if she was one with the forest. Was she an illusion of his? Had the pain he endured conjured an illusion? 

"It's fractured." She muttered, before moving further down Bog's body and made a start at prodding his legs. 

Bog's hiss was louder this time.  

"So is your knee." She said after the analysis. 

"How-" Bog began to say. 

"The bone, the branches of the body. It needs to be healed. I can't do that for you though."  

"I-"  

"But... you won't be going anywhere." The woman said, her amber eyes cold. The way she said those words, they were threatening and logical at the same time.  

Before Bog had a chance to speak, the woman got to her feet. "Do you remember anything before the fall?" She asked. 

"I do-" 

Bog tried to finish, but once again he was cut off.  

"So, what are you doing here?" She asked, her fists clenched as if Bog's memory irritated her. 

"I was walking-" Bog began to lie, becoming irritated at the woman's feistiness.  

"No one walks into the forest unless they want to die." The woman said, narrowing her eyes. 

A flash of something silver gleamed in the moonlight as the woman held a makeshift stone dagger to Bog's throat. 

"I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"  

He couldn't believe it, he was lured in by this woman and did not even see her pull out the blade.  

"I nearly did." Bog responded, calm as the smooth sharp edge of the blade pressed lightly against his skin.  

A flicker of confusion crossed the woman's face until she understood. 

"Was that the intention?" She asked, a small smile at the corners of her mouth. She did not drop the blade but eased her grip.  

"If it were, I don't think I'd have your dagger against my throat at this moment." Bog said, his tone almost teasing. 

He looked at the woman, ragged from the forest. He could not read her, nor determine her age. But her skin appeared to have few wrinkles and her eyes were full of both rage and youth. 

"Do you have a name?" Bog asked without thinking. 

The woman recoiled, withdrawing her dagger quickly as she did so.  

"Why?" She asked, her voice angry. 

As a hunter, Bog knew that sometimes you would have to lead the target into a false sense of security. When they opened up, that is when they were the most vulnerable.  

"You were watching me, you knew I fell." Bog pressed. 

"Obvious from your injuries." The woman dismissed, but Bog refused to give up. 

"You knew, you watched me while I was unconscious, didn't you?" 

The woman did not utter a word. 

"You cared enough to tend to my wounds." Bog pointed out. 

"You would have died." The woman said softly. 

"But I didn't, and I owe thanks to you, I just want to know your name."  

The woman sighed, muttering under her breath and turning to check behind her.  

"Who are you?" She asked after a moment. Anger flared up in Bog, he had never come across someone who was as stubborn as this woman. She had avoided his questions and Bog was at her mercy. 

Some hunter he was. 

"Bog." He sighed defeatedly.  

There was a pause, the night air rustling through the leaves and branches once more. Bog could feel the breeze on his cheeks and watched as it rustled the wild strands of the woman's hair. 

"Muuh."  

Bog also missed her words. 

"My name is Muuh."  

Bog did not press further, she had responded and even it was a lie, it was something. He asked no further questions as Muuh roamed around, collecting and foraging before returning to Bog's side to further tend to his injuries. 

Leaves and heaps of moss were padded out on the painful areas, secured in place with flexible branches and thick, long blades of grass.  

"Where did you come from?" Bog found himself asking as she placed another moss pile on his shoulder. 

"The forest." Muuh replied. 

"Don't give a lot away, do you?" Bog muttered under his breath, loud enough for Muuh to hear him. 

"Not to a man I do not know. Who claims to come into the forest for a walk but brought an arsenal." 

Bog thought how she must have been referring to the broken crossbow, lone bolt and missing dagger.  

"Tell me," Muuh asked, "Where did you come from?" 

Sometimes, in order for people to open up about themselves, you needed to give away a piece of yourself first. 

"A day's or so ride from here." 

"Far." Muuh commented, "too far to be a scout."  

"Scout?" Bog asked ignorant of what Muuh was talking about. As far as he knew, no one travelled out this far. He had not seen anyone after mid-morning the day he travelled and since the incident, nobility took an alternative travel path out of respect and fear. 

"I've been watching, it's what I was doing when I saw you fall. I thought you were one, but you're a different kind of scout, a hunter of sorts? Yet you carry no traps."  

"Not everything needs a trap to be caught." Bog answered. 

Muuh reclined her head as if thinking carefully of his answer.  

"These scouts, do you think they mean you harm?" Bog asked, wondering if these so-called 'scouts' could have been the same ones involved in the murder ten years before. It was possible, if a push.  

"The trees whisper," Muuh said, her eyes looking sullen, "a warning carries on the wind. I fear they do mean harm." 

"To you?" Bog asked again, but Muuh shook her head. 

"To the forest." She replied her gaze to the trees. She paused and brought her attention back to him.

"Bog, I need to know why you are here." Her voice almost seemed as if she was pleading, her eyes were a mixture of anxiety and ferocity.  

It was that look that made Bog's heart skip a beat. 

"I came here looking for someone." Bog answered truthfully. 

"Looking... for... someone?" Muuh repeated slowly. 

"Years ago, two people were murdered on the edge of this forest." Bog began, grimacing with pain as he tried to sit up properly. "I'm looking for the youngest of the pair."  

"But you said they were murdered?" Muuh asked, still cautious of whether Bog was trustworthy or not. 

"Someone sent me to see if that was true."  

"And is it?"  

"I-I don't know, I believed she was dead," Bog said. When Princess Dawn had spoken to him, he had dismissed her belief of Marianne's status but accepted due to the gold. It was selfish and cruel, but also, he thought in a twisted way he could bring some clarity to the young noble. At least he could find some evidence that she had died, and lay this whole thing to rest. 

"You say people don't walk into the forest," Bog inquired, "unless they want to die."  

Muuh nodded, "I have never seen someone until you, but there are tales of people finding themselves lost to the forest."  

"Lost?"  

"A lost soul, you forget your purpose."  

"Is that why you're here Muuh?" Bog asked, ignorant in wondering if he had crossed a line.  

"You ask too many questions." Muuh declared, "but... yes. It's all I can remember, all I've known. If I think too hard, it becomes a fog, one that I can't seem to get through. The forest does that to you they say, makes you forget." 

"But I didn't forget."  

Muuh bit her lip, her expression crossing between annoyed and upset.  

"And it's that I don't understand," Muuh said, standing at her full height and looking upwards into the high overbearing trees. 

"No matter how much I try, I can't remember anything before they found me." 

"Muuh?" Bog called from the ground beneath her. She turned, her eyes giving away her emotions. 

"Who... who found you?"  

A rustling could be heard from off in the distance, then as quickly as that was heard – the snapping of branches and dry leaves. Muuh, swirled on the balls of her feet, clenching her dagger tightly in her fists, the muscles bulging on her arms as she did so. 

Muuh snarled and positioned herself in front of Bog as if protecting her prey from the lurking predators. 

From the darkness, figures emerged. They appeared from all sides, their appearance similar to Muuh, all wearing similar masks, each face bearing a different expression. The blue swirls of paint decorated their forms and glistened in the moonlight which only illuminated their ghostly appearance in the gloom. 

"They found me." Muuh replied between gritted teeth, "the Fae."  

Chapter Text

"The Fae?"  

The mysterious figures stood at a distance between Bog and Muuh but circled around them. If they posed any threat, escape would be hard to come by.  

A soft murmuring echoed up from the crowd, a light clicking sound which carried to Bog's ears. He had never heard anything like it, a strange foreign language of which he had no way of understanding.  

Muuh stayed in her fighting stance, refusing to move from where she was positioned over Bog's crippled body.  

He despised being so weak, unable to even defend himself. He imagined if Muuh had not found him, his situation would have been far worse. 

A single loud click was heard above the smaller sounds that had been emanating from the group and a few of slender shape parted to allow a broader figure through. 

It would have appeared whoever this was held some form of leadership over the others. Not only being one of the few from the party who has taller with more breadth, it seemed their mask and accompanying spear featured more decorative items as if signalling their status. 

There was another loud click and it was then Bog realised the sounds were coming from the apparent leader and that they were communicating with Muuh. 

With straining ears Bog tried to listen, Muuh stayed silent while the figure proceeded to click and echo, the sounds somewhat alien. But the more Bog listened, the more he focused in on the sounds, they slowly started to sound like familiar syllables and common words. 

"He is a threat." A deep voice commented, said by the leader of the group.  

Muuh snarled in response, talking for the first time since the Fae arrived. "He fell and was badly injured, if untreated he would have died." 

"The forest would have fed off his body." Replied the heavy built Fae and Bog's stomach grew nauseous with unease. 

Whoever these mysterious Fae were, they did not trust Bog and he certainly did not trust them. Muuh had tended to his wounds for her own reasons, it was clear that if anyone else had found him they would of either left him for dead or ended his life prematurely.  

He looked at her now, engaged with the decorated Fae, whose booming voice and mask only highlighting their intimidating appearance.  

Behind that mask, Bog could feel how intensely they were glaring at Muuh, but then Bog could feel their eyes shift onto him, only for a moment before returning to his snarling protector.  

With a heavy grunt, the broad figure raised his spear into the air. The feathers and tied pebbles clattered together as he slammed it into the ground beside him. 

"The outsider will be taken to Impian for judgement."  

The outcome seemed to relax Muuh somewhat, as she eased up and lowered her dagger. She twisted back on her heels and squatted beside Bog.  

"Judgement?" Bog hissed lightly so only Muuh could hear. 

"Be grateful that you did not have your throat slit."  

Bog swallowed, he was used to people wanting to kill him, but to hear it from Muuh made him feel far more conscious. "It is a fair distance and you are unable to walk," she continued, "you will have to be carried." 

Bog resisted the urge to argue and he let the little pride he had left, be quenched. Quickly, Muuh tied his hands together with thick twine, careful not to cut into his skin.  

She looked up once she had finished, an almost apologetic look in her eyes. "I still do not trust you, Bog of Fairon."  

Bog mentally noted that he did not trust her; Muuh of the forest. As she stood, the more curious Fae of the group approached, but another slam from the spear recalled them. Only one Fae remained, the largest of the party width wise – their mask covering the top half of their face.  

It was then in the moonlight Bog realised something.  

Whereas Muuh's skin was pale and potentially soft underneath the calluses, the looming creature had different skin entirely. 

At first, Bog thought it was a trick of the light after all the figure was only being illuminated by the fading moon. But then a hand reached for him, the fingers stout and jagged as if they were made from the bark of a tree, as soon as the hand made contact with him, they felt cold. That's when he realised that the skin was blue, almost transparent to an effect – it was as if all life had left their body.  

Bog could feel himself shaking at the touch, there was no way this was possible. 

He reminded himself that it was the paint, the same crusted war marks that Muuh was sporting. The skin... was so blue and Bog was sure he could see dust and debris floating through the skin. 

Bog had cared for neither ghost stories or spectres themselves, until now.  

He stammered, trying awkwardly to shift away from the ice-cold touch. He flinched when a firm hand rested on his good shoulder.  

"G-ghosts." Bog managed to say to Muuh, his attempt to flee away from the apparition had caused him to move his already damaged shoulder, the new pain fresh and raw. 

A look of pity crossed her eyes before she brought her mask down to conceal her face. Then came a swift blow that made his head roll. Numbness crept in quickly, his vision consumed by a black cloud. Her voice was the last thing he heard before his limp body was lifted onto the shoulder of the large Fae. 

"I am sorry Bog."  

*** 

The growing warmth that he felt on his skin and the rhythmical bumping caused Bog to stir. 

Even before he opened his eyes he could feel the aching of his skull, a dim throb emitting from the side of his head. 

Where she, had hit him.  

Steadily he opened his eyes, trees as far as the eye could see greeted him.  

The sea of green glistened under the rays of the morning sun.  

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bog heard a voice say, turning his gaze to see Muuh walking behind him.  

In the light, he could see her more clearly, and she was more beautiful than he had thought so the previous night. At the angle she was at, the sun caught in her eyes and made them dance like hellfire. 

"You hit me." Bog said with a frown, annoyed at himself he let his guard down with this woman and not wanting to give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her statement.  

 Muuh's head tilted and a small smile appeared at the corners of her lips. 

"Have you never been hit before?"  

Bog bit his tongue, out of resisting the urge to argue and the throbbing in his skull which was becoming too uncomfortable for his liking.  

Noticing this, Muuh produced something from one of her pouches. She quickened her pace and cupped Bog's head in one hand and pushed something into his mouth with the other. 

Like it had almost become custom among them, Bog refused. 

"Just chew it." Muuh said with a non-aggressive snarl before letting her hands return to her side. 

Reluctantly Bog did just that, the texture was rough and chewing took effort, but once he swallowed he realised the ache in his head had been relieved.  

He turned his attention back to the scenery, realising they must be at some great height to see a view like this.

"Where are we?" 

"The forest." Muuh replied.

Bog sighed, Muuh may have now begun to answer his questions but she still withheld information, although she had the right to do so. In her eyes, Bog was still a threat to her and the Fae but she was intrigued by him nonetheless and for whatever reason, she was keeping him alive. 

"Why did you help me?" Bog asked, "back when I fell in?" 

Muuh paused for a moment before speaking, "I told you-" 

"You said it was because I would have died, but you mentioned the falling, the mist and how you couldn't remember. Was it this that made you save me?" Bog blurted. It wasn't subtle, but even if he was to die when he reached Impian, at least he would know. 

Muuh bit her lip and looked towards the earth, kicking a loose upturned stone as she walked. 

"I was always told that the forest makes you forget, as that is how it protects itself from those who seek to harm it... but... why did I forget? Why didn't you, when you came with weapons?" The last of her words trailed off as if she had been churning over this train of thought for a while. 

"I was... curious. Foolish and curious. I was going to go and get the fellow hunters, but then I noticed your eyes."  

"My... eyes?" Bog asked, watching Muuh intently. 

"They felt... familiar, and when I looked at them it was as if the fog of my memories cleared. It was as if they were strangely warm, even though they are the colour of crystal." She paused to look up at Bog and in that instance, she looked misleadingly innocent.  

"I feel like someone I cared about had eyes like yours."  

"You're keeping me alive because of my eyes?" Bog asked, shocked at how ridiculous that sounded but thankful for his father's gene pool. 

That smile returned to her lips, "It certainly isn't because of your inquisitive nature."  

Bog let out a small chuckle that was responded to by a large grunt from whatever his body was rested on. Until this moment Bog had forgot the events prior to him being knocked out, the image of the ghostly figure had left his mind. 

Gulping, he looked down. It appeared he was thrown over the creature's shoulder as all he could see was the passing earth and thick calves, covered in blue skin. 

Muuh noticed Bog's eyes widen, "Augu has been carrying you this entire time, I'm surprised he hasn't thrown you off yet."  

"Au..gu?" Bog repeated, slowly turning his head to the best of his ability. He was greeted by a large round face, the wooden mask that the Fae wore covered the creature's eyes and the bridge of its nose. The crusted paint was visible from underneath, stopping just after the large, flaring nostrils.  

The lips were parted, and tusk-like teeth emerged from the bottom row, hooking slightly over the top lip. It seemed as if Augu... was grinning at him.  

It both intrigued and terrified Bog. 

Feeling the colour drain once more from his face, Bog turned back to Muuh who was still walking behind them. 

"Blue." Was all he managed to say. 

Muuh nodded, "They all are."  

"They... are blue." Bog repeated.   

Muuh nodded her head once more as if to her it was simply mundane and ordinary. Bog remembered how Muuh had said she was found by the Fae if her lack of colour did not confirm it; perhaps she was not a Fae after all?  

"They are Fae, creatures of the forest."  

"In the moonlight... they..." Bog trailed off. 

"The Fae are both inhabitants and carers of the forest, ghosts of the wind and earth."  

"Are they... human?" Bog asked without thinking. The implication was not meant to be disrespectful and he feared aggravating them would mean his life would be cut short, but through all the texts he had read and all the rumours he had heard, he had not once come across the word Fae. 

Muuh gave no response, so Bog concluded that that meant the creatures were not. Although humanoid, the pigmentation combined with the ghostly tree-like appearance made them seem something else... entirely.  

"Are you Fae?" Bog queried. A flash of surprise crossed over Muuh's face but quickly vanished. It was as if she was hurt that he had to ask such a question.  

"Yes."  

"But you look-"  

"I am Fae!"  

Bog did not invade any further, it seemed that he had annoyed Muuh, his only hope of survival. She brought her mask down over her face, pulled out her dagger and spoke softly to Augu about scouting. He grunted a reply back and Bog watched her go, darting into the undergrowth.  

The absence of Muuh allowed Bog to think about his original plan and deal with the Princess. He had not expected to be captured by mystical beings who lurked within the forest, and although at first glance it could be seen as a hindrance, it could prove to be rather useful. Muuh had said that the Fae were inhabitants of the forest, so perhaps Impian, whether that be a Fae or a place, could provide needed answers about the events that transpired ten years ago.  

*** 

From up on Augu's shoulder Bog took in his surroundings. They passed under enlarged tree roots that sprouted like rising serpents from the ground and through thick grass and plant stems. Occasionally the other Fae would wait for Augu, who although was the slowest of the group with the added weight was still surprisingly light on his feet. The Fae would watch Bog with scowling eyes, but as a hunter, he could feel their interest in him. 

He doubted it was for the same reasons why Muuh found him fascinating however.  

After a while Bog thought about closing his eyes and resting, although this left him open and vulnerable, the constant jolting stung at his aching bones. He found himself missing Muuh's company, surprisingly. 

His trained hunter ear heard a rustle from above, pulling him back into alert. He saw Muuh perched on a high branch, her eyes glancing over the travelling party and behind her, observing the trail from which they came. Bog strained his eyes to watch her, she got to her feet and proceeded to leap from branch to branch. Once her foot had barely touched the wooden surface, she would leap again landing perfectly each time.  

Gradually the branches thickened, coated with vines. It made watching her almost impossible, but through the gaps, he could make out her running swiftly along the intermingled mass of vine and branch. 

It wasn't until later that she appeared from out a tree, re-joining the party on the ground as the rear lookout. 

Bog caught her eye and he felt a twinge within him. He wanted to apologise for before, if he had offended her in any way - but he just couldn't bring himself to do so. 

"What are you looking out for?" Bog asked instead, inwardly kicking himself. 

"Scouts." Muuh replied pushing the mask up from her face. 

Bog was about to ask another question when Augu came to a stop, Muuh copying. Bog shifted his head and saw the tall heavy Fae, the one who appeared to be the leader, waiting for them on a raised root. 

"Bruta," Muuh whispered to Bog, "He is the head hunter of the Fae." 

Bruta was still intimidating even in the morning glow. The blue skin was tight around his muscles built up from years of training, swirls and lines of paint decorated most of the skin. The wooden mask was rested on top of his head and short white hair sat ruffled underneath with two long strands swaying loosely either side of his face. A small stone, similar to those that decorated his spear, was knotted securely into one of the strands.  

Two strips of blue paint ran parallel down Bruta's face, highlighting his crimson eyes. 

He approached, addressing Augu as he did so. He gave a command, swift and assertive. Within one motion Augu lowered Bog to the ground, Muuh placing her hand on the small of his back for support. 

"Thank you." Bog said to Augu, who quietly nodded and joined the other Fae, glad to have the weight off his shoulder.  

"Can you walk?" Muuh asked. Bog instantly placed a foot slowly forward in front of him, shifting his full weight onto it. His body felt tight at the notion and although he stumbled slightly, he felt that he could manage. 

"Impian awaits." Bruta declared, "if he strays..." He commented, gesturing to Bog but his attention solely on Muuh, "... slit his throat."  

Awkwardly, Bog shifted from one leg to the next, the fact his hands remained bound did not make the feat any easier. If the Fae were trying to make him feel inferior, it was working. He may have been respected and feared as a Bounty Hunter, even being named the best in Fairon, but here that meant nothing compared to the ferocity and skillset the Fae possessed.  

As Muuh aided him through the thick undergrowth, he imagined she would be one heck of a fighter. 

The grass they passed through rose to chin height, and the density of it made it almost impossible to manoeuvre through, but finally, Muuh reached out, pushing a large fan-like leaf upwards and letting a crippled Bog pass underneath it.  

What waited for him on the other side took his breath away.  

He stood on the edge of a colossal clearing, a wide pool of water in the centre. The surface shimmered like crystals and impressive trees surged up through the pool. Their roots were equally large and towering, hooking and connecting to other roots to form natural bridges. Unknown plants sprouted from the bark, some dangling down in the waters below. Their buds an array of warm and inviting colours. 

Overhead, the branches too knotted together, their vine coated bodies leaving enough of a gap for the sunlight to pierce through. 

Bruta, Augu and the fellow Fae of the hunting party were already moving towards a central clump of land, where other Fae had gathered on the mossy bank.  

They were all of various heights, builds, genders and ages. Some smaller Fae sat perched on one of the roots, their heads tilted curiously at Bog. 

"What... is... this... place?" Bog asked breathlessly, for he had never seen something as enchanting as this. 

"Nemus; the home of the Fae." Muuh said, guiding him towards those on the other shore, where his judgement trial and Impian, awaited.

Chapter Text

The morning sun was emerging from its distant horizon bank, the streams of orange and gold bursting through Dawn's window as she watched the sunrise. 

She reached out and unflicked the latch that secured the glass windows in place and pushed on the panes. 

The breeze rolled in, swaying the lace curtains and catching in the loose strands of her hair. 

Birds darted and danced in her view, their dawn chorus filling the air.  

"A new day." Dawn whispered to herself, "a new chance."  

Dawn had watched ten sunrises since she had last exchanged words with the bounty hunter. He was her last hope of finding Marianne. 

The sensible and realistic part of her kept acknowledging Marianne's death, but she still believed. With each new day came hope. 

For years she had planned out search and rescue operations but approaching the guards without her father hearing about it was impossible. 

Finally, an opportunity presented itself and she had managed to slip away to the tavern where she heard the infamous Bounty Hunter went for rest. 

In the civil documents she had managed to pool together, not much information was on Mr Kingston, or Bog as he preferred to be known.  

But she discovered he had once been part of the King's guard, although the man didn't seem like it. He was tall as if his limbs were stretched and scars littered his face. His eyes were bluer than hers, but they felt equally cold. 

Like he too had experienced great sadness and loss within his life. 

A sharp rasp of knuckles against the door took Dawn away from her thoughts. 

"Come in." She called, still perched by the open window.  

With a creak, the door opened and Lizzie walked in, a pile of dresses folded in her arms. 

"You're still in your nightgown?!" Lizzie exclaimed dropping the pile onto a chest that rested at the end of Dawn's regal bed.  

"Sorry." Dawn apologised, her gaze still fixated on the outside. "Lost in my own thoughts again."  

Lizzie crossed the room and took a seat in the vacant spot next to the young royal, putting her warm hand onto of the Princess'. 

It was a silent notion of love and care. Ever since the death of her mother and the absence of Marianne, Lizzie spent the years wiping the tears from the Princess' cheeks and embracing her when the nights became too much to bear. 

"His Lordship requests your presence this morning, perhaps to discuss the upcoming celebrations?" 

Dawn turned to face Lizzie, a small frown on her lips. 

"Celebrations?"  

"Your seventeenth year."  

Dawn sighed for it had completely slipped her mind. 

Lizzie must have noticed for she got to her feet and was already sorting through the dresses, she selected one and pulled it out, careful not to crease the others further. 

"Life goes on your highness, time is cruel and waits for no woman."  

"It does not feel right to hold an extravagant celebration when the people are suffering," Dawn commented as she began to change into the dress selected for her. 

"I know how you feel about the subject, but your father has insisted." 

Dawn raised an eyebrow, "he has?"  

Lizzie nodded, "His Lordship has been holding a lot more meetings with him recently and miraculously the King wishes this to be..." Lizzie paused as if trying to remember the exact phrase she had heard. "...A 'night to remember'." 

"Odd," Dawn said as she put her arms through the expensive material, ready for the gown to be laced. 

She missed the days of simpler dresses, where she and her sister would run wild on the grounds. It seemed to be that nowadays all that people expected of her was to dress in elegant gowns and to act gracefully. 

If only they had known how she scaled the castle walls and made her way through the slums to find a fearsome bounty hunter. 

But what Dawn found odd about the morning's conversation was how her father was finally opening up once more.  

For the past decade, he had become a withered husk of the man he once was. He was so withdrawn from his duties that he served as more of a figurehead than a leader. When Dawn turned eight years old, she had seen her father after a two-year hiatus and witnessed first hand how the deaths took their toll on him, for he looked like a corpse. 

It scared her to her very soul. 

Once Dawn was deemed acceptably dressed to venture outside her chambers, she made her way towards the banquet hall, where a permeant visitor awaited her.  

A lone guard, Pare stood on watch by the door and she gracefully curtsied to him as a way of greeting.  

She also gave him a smile, and he returned it.  

He tapped his halberd twice on the granite floor announcing her arrival and held the door for her.  

Lord Roland Highworth of the Eastern Isles was sat at the end of one of the grand tables when Dawn entered the hall. He stood as she approached, giving a quick bow.  

"Morning your highness."  

"Good morning my lord." Dawn replied, keeping niceties to a bare minimum as servants filtered in and out laying on the morning meal. 

But once they were gone and the room was quiet, he turned to her. 

His large green eyes settling on hers. 

For the last ten years, Roland Highworth had made Fairon his second home. So much so, that she had watched him grow, throughout his infant and adolescent years he had been unbearable, but even more so now.  

"It has fallen to me to arrange your birthday celebrations and I-" 

"Why has it fallen to you, Roland?" 

"Well, you could not plan your own gathering." 

"Why not?"  

"You have far more important things to be dealing with."  

"Such as?" 

Roland ignored this and returned to his original train of thought.  

"As I was saying, I want this one to be special."  

Dawn raised an eyebrow. 

"And why is that?" She asked. 

Roland smiled and rested his hand on top of hers. 

The notion made her feel uncomfortable, but she took it as a gesture between acquaintances.  

A lone servant came from the back rooms to refill the noble's drinks during the awkward moment.

Dawn's heart beat faster when she realised it was Sunny.  

His caramel coloured cheeks flushed red as he saw her gaze on him, but he proceeded to carry out his job. 

Sunny quickly filled Roland's goblet but took his time with Dawn's. 

"Yes, yes I think you're done here." Roland said dismissively, raising his hand from Dawn's and ushering Sunny away. 

Respectively the young man bowed and took his leave, but not before taking one last, longing look at the Princess. 

"Where were we?" Roland asked, drawing Dawn's attention back to him.  "Ah yes. I have been holding meetings with your father, trivial matters, but one thing that kept arising was the future of this kingdom." 

It was a subject Dawn hated discussing, in her mind Marianne was to rule albeit with a King by her side. While Dawn had received adequate training to be a ruler, she did not feel up to the task.  

"A union is the strongest and surest way to protect Fairon." Roland said, his voice becoming more irritating with every syllable.  

"There has been no arrangement made for a union." Dawn commented with unease. 

Roland placed his hand yet again on Dawn's but this time cupped her hand in both of his.  

That was when she realised. 

Nausea threatened to rise up out of her body and it felt like her heart had sunk into the depths of her despair.  

"By the King's command, we are betrothed." Roland said a smile on his lips. 

"I-I..." Dawn tried to say, but she could form no words. 

"I understand it comes as a shock, but we are friends are we not? I am sure we can grow to love another as husband and wife." 

Dawn was about to cry out in disbelief when a familiar, unsettling voice spoke from behind her. "I am sure that in time, that will become possible my Lord."  

With a slight turn of her head, she could see Sciurus, his robe trailing along the ground behind him.  

From her position, she could see the mysterious man approach, and she felt a cold hand rest firmly on her shoulder as if holding her in place. 

Roland's smile faltered as he read Dawn's facial expression. 

"Dawn... is something the matter?" A flicker of either worry or annoyance crossed his eyes but Dawn felt too sick to comment.  

"I'm sure it is simply the shock, isn't it your highness?" Sciurus purred, his grip on her shoulder tightening.  

In one motion Dawn got to her feet, pushing Scirus' hand from her. "If you'll excuse me." She managed to mutter before walking briskly out of the banquet hall.  

She pushed the door open and stormed out, too lost in her own world to notice Sunny conversing with his father, Pare, as the young noble hurried past. 

"Dawn?" Sunny called out in confusion, which responded to him getting a whack from his father and another lecture about 'using proper titles'. 

Dawn could feel her heart quicken with each step she took, the tears burning and threating to cascade down her cheeks. She hadn't realised that all this time she was holding her breath, and as soon as she felt the cool forenoon breeze she gasped, letting her lungs fill with air and the tears fall freely.  

Perching herself on a nearby stone bench nestled between blooming rose bushes, Dawn wondered if this was how Marianne had felt when their parents had said she was to marry a young Roland.  

If Marianne was here, she would have been married by now – and Queen most likely.  

Now that fell to Dawn.  

There was no choice for her, she had to marry him. It was for Fairon, not her. Tensions had always been heightened with the Eastern Isles and with Roland's continued appearance it was no surprise that some type of link between the two had to be made.  

Although she would lose her freedom, Fairon would gain sustainability, and it could not afford to lose it. Perhaps when she ruled, she could make changes. 

That's what Marianne would have done.  

Dawn patted away the last stray tear from her cheek, perhaps marriage would not be awful, but she'd lose the one person who meant so much to her. Who had found her the day she was told of her mother and sisters death, crying on the muddy bank of the stream where she and Marianne would spend hours playing. Who lay there with her in the dirt, holding her hand and letting her cry as the day became night.  

She had loved him every day since then but now would have to be the last. 

"Dawn?" She heard a voice call out, and without having time to compose herself Sunny was beside her. 

"Dawn? What's the matter? What happened?" Sunny asked, careful not to touch her but his eyes filled with worry. 

She went to speak but couldn't quite form the words. 

"Was it Roland? What did he say to you? He is a piece of work-"  

"We are to be married." Dawn finally managed to say in a hoarse whisper. 

"Huh?"  

Dawn raised her head to Sunny, "Roland and I, are to be married."  

Sunny's face dropped.  

It was as if she could hear his heart drop in his chest and the merriment sucked from his soul. 

"No... no, no that... no."  

"I should have realised, the talks with my father, his continuous presence," Dawn said in between breaths. "Perhaps it was all arranged years ago."  

"There has to be another way-"  

"There is no other way, it is the King's will. It is my duty to serve Fairon."  

"Dawn-" Sunny said, his eyes secretly pleading with her, but there was nothing she could do.  

She took Sunny's hands in hers. She could feel his warmth, his palms sweaty from his morning work. 

"You have always been there for me, you never treated me any different because of my status or my wealth. Your friendship, companionship, was the support I needed. You told me, when we lay in that muddy ditch as small children, that your mother always used to say that new things came when the sun shines, that a new day meant a new chance. You are my sunshine, you will always bring joy to my life, but no matter how much I love you, no matter how much my heart yearns for you Sunny, we cannot be together."  

Dawn did not know what she had expected, she had never openly told him of her feelings but she was aware he knew. She needed to let him know, at least let her heart have that moment before it was locked away for the rest of her life.  

She waited for him to leave, but instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. 

For a split moment, Dawn was in shock, then she closed her eyes and allowed herself to indulge, to feel this one moment of love before it was lost.  

But as soon as the moment came, it was gone.  

Their lips separated and their foreheads rested against one another. 

"I apologise." Sunny said, the red on his cheeks fierce and hot. 

"It was perfect." Dawn smiled, her cheeks equally as flushed. 

"I will never leave your side Dawn, I'll always be faithful to you."  

"No, Sunny you can't. You need to live your life, what happens when I am encouraged to produce an heir?" 

"That... That doesn't matter!"  

"Of course it matters, it is unfair to remain loyal when I am unable to do so."  

Sunny paused, he knew there was no way to change the outcome. 

"What about the bounty hunter?" He asked, almost in desperation. 

"Bog?"  

"Yes, is he due to return soon?"  

"Months end."  

"What if he does find Marianne?" 

Dawn had not given much thought as to what would happen if Marianne was to be found alive and returned home. What state would she be in? Would she resume her position and the roles that accompanied it? Would she want to? 

"Then she returns home." Dawn said, not satisfied with her own answer. 

"You would not have to marry Roland!"  

"Sunny!" Dawn said getting to her feet, "that's an awful thing to say, she has been lost for ten years and when she finally returns home she is married off straight away!?"  

Sunny's shoulders fell, he was looking for any ray of hope and willing to cling to it with all his might. 

Dawn gently pulled him to his feet, his hands in hers. 

"You are right in one way, we do not know what the future will bring. But, we know this cannot be. I wish there was another way, but we both know there is not."  

She leant in and kissed him on the cheek, an easy feat since he was only just smaller than her. 

From inside there were crashes and shouts.  

"They are most likely looking for me." Sunny said with a weak smile. "I should go."  

"Goodbye Sunny." Dawn said, biting her own lip to stop herself from crying once again.  

"Goodbye Dawn."

With a tight squeeze of her hand, he let it drop and walked away, back inside the castle from where he had originally emerged.  

The numbness within her chest felt heavy, like a great weight that was slowly crushing her. Dawn kept walking through the gardens, past the small neatly trimmed hedgerows and exotic flower beds.  

She kept walking until she was out of the main garden, her feet guiding her towards her safe space. A light drizzle of rain had begun to descend from the heavens, and with each step she took the downpour grew heavier.  

By the time she got to the bank, the rain was making patterns on the surface of the water. Instinctively, she took off her shoes and let her bare feet soak in the stream, the hem of her dress becoming damp.  

She sat on the bank, the upturned earth ruining her dress. 

Her tears became lost in the rain as she looked upwards, the sun just out of view behind a dark looming cloud. Her voice too became lost but she managed to let out a small cry; 

"I miss you so much, Marianne."  

Chapter Text

Strange, pale blue faces stared at Bog from a distance, their curious crimson eyes trailing him as he approached. He was used to being the hunter, watching prey from a distance had been his speciality, but now, when the eyes were on him, he could not shake the feeling of unease.

But his surroundings somewhat distracted him from the eerie atmosphere. Never before had he seen a place as exotic and lush as this, and to think it existed deep within the forest. No scholar had ever recorded anything the sort on the maps he had seen, nor in any book he had read. 

Had anyone set foot here? did anyone even know this place existed? 

The questions Bog wanted to be answered were piling up, and he doubted he would receive the information he was looking for anytime soon.  

Bog walked alongside Muuh, who kept a firm hand on his back. Her touch felt reassuring, as much as Bog refused to admit it. Their feet trod lightly on the moss-covered ground as they circled around on the thin bank towards the gathered Fae. Letting his eyes wander to his aching feet, Bog found he could not take his gaze away from the pool they walked over. The water, so clear it almost looked as if it was made out of crystal, featured no forms of life. It seemed to be an empty, limitless pool. Bog had travelled to many places, and he knew that wildlife was most commonly found near lakes and streams, it was strange that an environment as vibrant and exotic such as this one featured none.  

It seemed that it was not only the Fae that defied logic, with their blue skin and blood-coloured irises, it would appear their home did as well. 

"Nemus." Bog muttered to himself, "the home of the Fae." 

Upon reaching the gathering crowd, a soft-spoken Fae, their short hair pulled back into a small knot addressed Bruta, nimbly bowing before speaking in their common tongue. The pain from the rhythmic bumping of his journey to Nemus had made Bog's bones grow tired and his lack of concentration made it difficult to understand the rushed phrasing of Bruta's commands. 

As the soft-spoken Fae nodded and turned to leave, Muuh pressed another strange food to Bog's lips. 

"Eat it, it will help." She offered, the ferocity in her eyes calm for once. 

"You need to stop being so forceful." Bog said, grateful for something to numb the irritating pain.  

While chewing the leaf-type mush, Bruta glanced over his shoulder and beckoned the pair to follow him. With Muuh pushing him gently forward, they made their way towards a mammoth-sized tree that stretched high into the canopy, its roots, equally impressive in length, were knotted together in a dense clump at its base.  

Passing through between a gap, Bog found himself underneath the tree. The area was hollow, with luminescent plants and fungi growing out from the walls giving the enlarged, closed space enough visible light to navigate through. As Bog walked he noticed how the same blue paint Muuh and the other Fae from the clearing were wearing, decorated the walls.  

Spirals, markings and even something like foreign cave drawings covered every inch of free dirt. The hollow area came to an end, where the ground met with them. The far back of the earth wall was entirely covered with illuminating flora, whereas the paintings Bog had been following all seemed to connect to a circular pattern on the floor.  

Bruta, clearly not wanting to waste any more energy on Bog than necessary, pointed to the middle of the painted blue circle – instructing him to wait there. Once he was satisfied with Bog's position, he made his way to the fungi wall, taking a seat on a small throne which appeared to be made from twisted vines, leaves and mounds of dirt. Three identical looking chairs were positioned along the wall also.  

Once seated, Bruta thrust his spear into the ground and removed his headdress and laid it at his feet. With mask and makeshift shawl free from his person, Bog could see the sharp tips of Bruta's ears, further decorated by small wooden stakes and decorative stones poking out from beneath his white hair.  

"You should leave, Muuh." He said, breaking the silence with a growl.  

Bog expected her to go, but she stayed by his side – although her hand was no longer on his back. Bog found himself longing for that touch, even it was by someone who had the potential to kill him with ease.  

Defiantly, Muuh gave her response. "With all respect Bruta, but not until I am asked by Impian." 

Bruta tensed, his war paint cracking slightly as he narrowed his eyes. It was clear that Muuh's attitude had aggravated him. "I am a Fae Caput Muuh if you have forgotten. You know better than to refuse my order."  

From the corner of his eye, Bog could see Muuh bite her lip. For a second, he wondered if she would reply, but an elderly voice spoke in place of hers. 

"Defiance is thick in her blood Bruta, you know that."  

Immediately, Bruta was on his feet. "Impian." He greeted with a slight nod of his head, causing the decorative stones on his person to quietly rattle. 

Muuh too had bowed her head, but unlike Bruta who had raised his gaze, Muuh kept her head down as the voice passed her. Believing it was in his best interest to follow her actions out of not wanting to anger to Fae any more than he had already done, Bog copied, bowing his head to the best of his ability.  

At a glance, he could make out a clawed hand, the skin wrinkled and a thin colouring of blue stretching out and over like worn skin towards curling black nails. The length and width of them alone looked like they could cut through the thickest oak. 

One of these black claws pressed against the skin of Muuh's chin and for a moment Bog felt sick in his stomach, the sudden rush of anxiety that something was to befall her. Instead, the claw pressed lightly against her, prompting her to raise her head. 

"Impian." She greeted with respect. 

The Fae standing before them was small in height. A foot or so smaller than Muuh. Cascades of white hair sprouted wildly from their scalp, trailing past the ears, their elongated tips barely visible underneath the mass. A section of the hair and been wrapped and secured into a knot, with an additional two heavy plaits, with circular, carved stones tied at their tips, dangling also.  

The eyes, dwarfed by the volume of hair were a faded red, the opaqueness suggesting a limited sight. 

The elder Fae turned to him, "A human?" He asked before pushing his face close against Bog's. The close proximity of the act made Bog feel more uncomfortable than he already did. Fearing of being seen as disrespectful, he did not flinch. While being this close, Bog could make out the fine detail in the ancient Fae's face, the winkles collecting under his clouded eyes, spanned out in creases similar to the veins of a leaf.  

The Fae inhaled, closing his eyes as he took in air through his nose. 

After a moment passed, he opened his eyes. "I can see your story comes with many questions, but they will wait, as we have questions too."  

Bog, failing to find the right words, simply nodded in response. This elder Fae with skin so frail, one cut would prove to be fatal and claws that could kill - was Impian. Through the scraps of information Bog had heard and witnessed, Impian seemed to be an authoritative figure, the leader of the Fae, after all, he was in charge of both Bog's trial and judgement.  

As Impian took a seat next to Bruta, two additional Fae entered the hollow undergrowth.

They quickly past by Bog and Muuh and took up their seats, nodding respectively to Impian as they did so.  

"How did you come to be in the forest?" Bruta began to question but Impian raised a withered hand.  

"In time Bruta, in time." Impian said, a softness to his voice. He let his gaze fall on Muuh, who still stood fiercely beside Bog.  

"Muuh, my child, you know our laws and our customs. You may have delivered a threat to us, but you also showed compassion. The interest you show in this man will cloud your judgement, it is for the forest to decide his fate now."  

Muuh shifted, her hands clenched.

As if sensing the oncoming argument, the elder of the two new arrivals gave Muuh a fierce glare, almost motherly in its mix of annoyance and concern. 

With that, Muuh sighed defeatedly.  

She bowed respectfully and turned to go, but not before catching Bog's eye.  

A small, almost pitying smile faded on her lips, as quick as it had appeared.  

Once Muuh's presence was no longer felt by the Fae, Impian spoke.  

"I have seen enough humans in my time to recognise the attire of a hunter. You are a hunter, are you not?" he asked, his voice croaking as his tongue moved over the syllables.  

Bog nodded, "I am." He replied with a lump in his throat. 

"Is it beasts you hunt? Or," Impian said, his voice growing darker, "is it, your own kind?"  

The accuracy of his assumption came as both predicted and a shock. The Fae seemed mystical and to an extent magical, it would not have surprised Bog if they knew more about him then they let on.  

"I am a Bounty Hunter." Bog answered. 

With a weak yet satisfied grin at Bog's compliance, Impian laxed in his chair, an indication for the others to freely speak. 

"What is your name?" The Fae who glared at Muuh asked, her hair, unlike the other two younger Fae's, was long but nowhere near the length of Impian's. Bog summarised that perhaps within their community the length of the hair showed wisdom. The silver hair flowed to her lower back, no beads or ornaments adorned her mane, yet a band had been securely fasted to her forehead. 

"Bog."  

"Bog." She repeated, "Bog, The Bounty Hunter."  

"We ask you, as an unknown, Bog, an outsider, how you came to be in our lands." Asked the tall female Fae who sat the far side of the trial bench. Appearance wise she was similar to Bruta, blue war paint was worn ceremoniously on the top half of her head. The fine, short strands of white hair barely long enough to hold any paint. It was as if the paint had been poured over her. Her build was heavy with muscle and her ears were decorated with fine sharp stones.  

"I came to find someone." 

"To seek us out?" Bruta questioned aggressively, it was clear that any form of violence was his favoured tactic during these trials.  

"No." Bog said, trying to keep his own anger under control. "I had no concept that the Fae existed." He paused, wondering if he could use the question to his advantage. "Do you know of the murder that occurred ten years ago? Just outside the forest?" 

"Do not-" Bruta began to say, but the young female Fae cut him off. 

"Not much is known of what occurs outside our sacred home, not unless it could affect us. A murder or any violence between the humans is not ours to intervene nor record."  

"Who was it, that you came to find?" Impian asked. 

Bog swallowed. "The Queen of Fairon and her eldest child were murdered and I am tasked with finding that child, as it was believed there was a possibility of her still being alive."  

"If the act took place ten winters ago, why are you searching now?" Bruta asked, his arms stubbornly folded in front of him. 

"I was approached with the task recently. The people of Fairon believed that the body must have been eaten and the carcass stripped since there was no sign of the child alongside the mother's corpse." Bog thought back to the Princess, her large blue eyes pleading with him. "Someone, still had hope nonetheless."  

There was a moment of silence between the Fae as they acknowledged what Bog had told them. 

Impian gestured for Bruta without turning his head. "Who found the bounty hunter, Bruta?" 

"Muuh was there, tending to his wounds when the hunting party arrived at the clearing." 

Impian inhaled once more as if assessing the situation. "Wrenn, Bruta," he said, addressing the two younger Faes, "you may take your leave. Plume and I will proceed with further questioning."  

Bruta fidgeted, frustrated with Impian's request but nevertheless, he complied. Gathering up his spear and mask, he left the room on Wrenn's heels. 

Without turning his head Bog could hear them leave the underground trial room, their echoing footsteps becoming distant until ceasing altogether.  

"If Muuh had thought him to be a scout, I doubt he would be here." Bog heard Plume quietly say to Impian.  

In turn, he slowly nodded, "You have told us you are a bounty hunter, on a hunt to find a child who was said to be slain ten winters ago." 

"That is true." Bog replied.

"Do you know anything about the scouts?"  

Bog shook his head, "I have seen no scouts nor do I know of any. I work alone in my field." 

"I could smell the loneliness of you." Impian commented as if it was mundane to do so. To be so outwardly told of such a thing rattled Bog. 

"I am not lonely!" Bog declared, forgetting both himself and the situation for a moment.  

"I have only ever once smelt it before, and I could never forget a smell like it. Emotions like those tend to cling to your kind."  

Plume's eyes widened slightly, the deep red of her irises contrasting against the soft blue of her skin. "Do you think, that, that is why...?" She asked Impian. 

"The compassion that was shown to you," Impian began, "is rare. We live to protect the forest, much else does not matter to us. Yet, Muuh's interest in you was noted by the forest and in turn, she saved you from death's embrace."  

"What do you mean her interest in me?" Bog asked, his hands shifting uncomfortably in their cuffs. 

"She could have easily slaughtered you." Plume said, her voice unnerving. "Yet, by the will of the forest she spared you, and there is a reason for that." 

Bog remembered how he had asked Muuh a similar question, for he had been entirely at her mercy. Her answer had surprised him, as it felt so irrelevant. 

"My eyes." Bog spoke up. 

The elder Fae looked confused and intrigued, with Impian leaning forward, a strand of his long, white hair falling over his shoulder. 

Silently, Impian encouraged Bog to go on, so he did.  

"Muuh had said that my eyes felt somewhat familiar to her, something about her memories... and a fog?" 

The two Fae held their tongues long enough for Bog to pick up on something that was being kept hidden.  

"Is this because, Muuh-" Bog said, trying to carefully word his curiosity, "is human, like me?"  

"Muuh is not human." Plume stated a fierceness in her eyes. The soft wrinkles of age showing as she did so. "She is neither Human or Fae, she is... a lost soul." 

"Could you tell me about her, about Muuh?" 

"You have no need to know anything about her or the Fae."  

"She said the Fae found her, what does that mean?" 

"You are treading on dangerous ground, hunter. Be careful or I will slit your throat where you stand." Plume said, the stillness of her posture only enhanced how furious her eyes danced. 

Bog initially bit his lip, the urge to know more was overwhelming. He had this niggling thought, a weak suspicion. So far, he had nothing to go on if he did ever return to Fairon, perhaps this could be something.  

"How was she found?" Bog pressed, the fear of having his neck sliced somewhat dim to his need to know more about the mysterious woman. 

Plume gritted her teeth, her fine fangs bared for Bog to see. 

Impian, sensing the building tension raised a hand. "I knew you would ask many questions, any outsider would. Yet, you are more interested in Muuh than you are of us. What is it about her that makes you willing to risk your own life?" 

The way the withered Fae worded it made it seem stupid and unprofessional, but Bog's curiosity was his only lead thus far. 

"Muuh is a human, a human in the forest who seems to struggle to remember. There is a possibility-"  

"-That she is your missing princess?" Plume asked, venom dripping on her words. "One similarity is nothing, two is a coincidence."  

"But what if she was?" Bog voiced, not releasing how desperate he began to sound. "If she was the princess, she has a family, she has fellow humans like her-." 

"Who left her for dead?" Plume said, getting to her feet. Her long hair swaying as she did so. "I found Muuh, all those years ago. She was nothing more than a mangled pile of flesh, her skin drenched in blood and life barely clinging to her." Plume advanced towards Bog slowly, "I thought she was dead, no one could survive a fall at that height at such a young age – but I realised the blood was not from that alone. Marks made by man covered her body, puncture wounds that continually seeped. I pulled out my own dagger to end her suffering, but the forest stopped me and pleaded me to save her. Time passed slowly as I brought Muuh back from the brink of death, but I grew to love her as if she was one of my own." 

Plume stood in front of Bog, her eyes full of hate for his kind. 

"So, if she was your princess – what would I be sending her too? The same kind that defiled her body, left her choking on her own blood? She is not your princess; your princess is dead and her memory should be too. Let your theories and attraction die, Muuh belongs to the forest." 

Chapter Text

The redness of infuriation burned at Bog's ears. He stared into Plume's scarlet eyes, challenging her.  

Carefully, he thought over the last few words the Fae had said through seething teeth. 

"Let your theories and attraction die," Plume had said, "Muuh belongs to the forest." 

A part of him screamed that he had overstepped a mark, and if he valued his survival over his curiosity, he would drop the questioning. But before Bog could speak, Plume broke off the stare and left the hollow undergrowth, leaving Bog alone with Impian. 

"For how long will you continue to call infatuation curiosity, I wonder." Impian whispered, his voice just loud enough for Bog to hear. 

The burning now scorned Bog's cheeks, "Surely," Bog said with reason, "you can see there could be a connection."  

"I see a young, torn, lonely woman and a curious," He said the word slowly as if he found the term amusing, "lonely man."  

Impian straightened in his natural throne before continuing. "In nature, animals give birth to thousands of offspring, do you know why?" 

Bog waited a moment before giving an answer he thought the old Fae would want to hear. 

"Survival? As at least one may survive."  

Impian nodded.  

"Sometimes, if the circumstances are especially cruel, nothing will survive. The hope to find your princess, I feel it is the same." 

"I know there is a slim possibility, but that aside Muuh is still human, being with others-" 

Impian raised a hand. "Plume has already told you of why Muuh cannot go, but also, imagine if - the forest allowed it - she was to go with you. Just because one-person views with open eyes does not mean others do. To them, I have no doubt that she would be seen as a savage, and if attacked, she probably would not survive such injuries again."  

Bog hung his head in defeat, with a shallow sigh he asked the dreaded question. "Am I to die here then?"  

"If you were to die today, we would not be speaking now – that is the forest's judgement."  

"I do not understand-"  

"The forest protects us and in return we protect it. There is a reason for every event that happens and life continues regardless. You have been kept alive not by the decision of the Fae, but we do not want you to linger. In one full cycle of the sun, you are to leave Nemus and not return." 

A brief sense of relaxation drenched Bog, at least he could cling to the fact he would not draw his last breath today.  

"Will I forget all I have learnt? Of this place, the Faes," Bog said the name without even realising, "Muuh?"  

"Forget?" Impian asked curiously. 

"Muuh said that the forest makes you forget." 

"If the forest wishes it so, then it shall be." 

Bog felt his stomach drop slightly at the thought of leaving and having no recollection of his time here until now he had not considered how long he had left until he was to return to Princess Dawn's messenger. To think, all he had learned and witnessed, would be gone.  

"You said I have one full cycle, what shall I do during that time?" Bog asked. 

"Treatment for the injuries you received and provisions will be gathered for your journey back to the humans. I do not advise becoming too familiar with our land, however, if that was something that crossed your mind." 

"Thank you." Bog said, ignoring the passive threat but grateful that his bones would finally stop their nagging. "But surely you still see me as a threat?" He asked, then kicked himself inwardly for not knowing when to stop asking questions.  

"The Fae and I view you with caution, but the forest has faith in you. It let you live for a reason after all."  

*** 

It was arranged that Muuh would stay with Bog, for both the Fae's protection and his own. No one else wanted to be given the task of being in such close proximity to a human. 

"The fall and rise of the sun should be enough time." Muuh muttered to herself as she sat by the outside pool's edge, mashing and swirling clumps of clay and mud together in a makeshift pot. 

"Enough time?" Bog asked. Muuh looked up at him with a cautious, yet almost playful expression. 

"I knew you would bring danger to yourself for asking too many questions."

"I did not!" Bog said, a little too defensively.  

"Plume would disagree."  

Bog lowered his gaze, it seemed he had failed to make any sort of decent impression on the Fae, but he could not help it, it was just in his nature. 

"She is furious at Impian for our pairing, but anyone else would slit your throat at a moment's notice." Muuh continued.

"How reassuring," Bog muttered under his breath. "Will you?"  

Muuh looked up from her clay, a few splatters had splashed against her skin in the process. 

"It is tempting."  

Bog took a bite of yet another organic concoction Muuh had produced to him. This particular clump had berries, and with each bite, the juice was rich and drenched his hoarse throat.  

There were so many questions he wanted to ask Muuh, but he knew that she would eventually grow tired of him and the threat of slitting his throat was nothing to merely laugh at. Impian had said not to become too familiar, but with each passing moment, he found it hard to do otherwise.  

His eyes rested on her as he swallowed the final mouthful. She looked up at him as she threw another lump of fresh dirt into the bowl and pounded at it with her fists. 

"The mud is for your bones." She said without prompting.  

Medicine had a lot of areas for improvement and the occasional home remedy was not always ruled out, but Bog failed to see how mud would be of any use to his injuries. His bones needed to be set, he needed something strong, he did not need mud. 

After a few more minutes, Muuh stopped pulverising the muddy pulp. She placed the bowl beside Bog and started unhooking the straps that held the now empty scabbard.  

"What are you doing?!" Bog cried in protest, embarrassingly pushing her hand away.  

From where she was in mid-squat, Muuh raised an eyebrow. "Your injuries are under your clothes, placing the mud on top will do no good."  

Bog gasped at the realisation of what she meant.  

"I can not...!" He protested.  

"You would rather suffer fatal injuries than receive help?" Muuh asked, "If you really want to die, I can slit your throat."  

"No! It's just, it is a very private thing." Bog tried to explain but to no avail. Although a hunter and ranked highly deadly among peers, he was still a human at heart and easily got embarrassed at the thought of public nudity.  

"Humans." Muuh muttered. Her growing annoyance caused Bog to sigh, and he started undressing himself the best he could have given his injuries. When he could not lift his arm up to pull his tattered cloth shirt over his head, Muuh came forward to help.  

He looked away as she began to smear the grounded dirt onto his chest and shoulders. Each motion caused a soft burst of pain. The mud was thick and dark in colour, it covered his skin and Muuh's hands completely.  

"I need to tend to the leg." Muuh said after Bog's upper body was covered in the mixture.  

With sheer embarrassment, Bog removed the rest of his clothes until he was sitting naked on the mossy bank. He watched closely out the corner of his eye as Muuh applied the mud using the same process she had done for the rest of his body.  

Had she been any other woman it would have been an embarrassing practice for them both.  

But his state of nudity did not alarm nor bother her.  

When she was done covering his lower half, she applied a bit more to the now dried, crusty layer that rested on his shoulders.  

"The mud will start to tighten and help your bones; do you feel anything?"  

Bog nodded and the pair waited in silence until the rest of the mud had set and Bog found his movements stiffen.  

Muuh had explained that in order for the mud to complete its job, it needed to work with the water of the pool. Bog failed to see how this would help his bones, which still remained fractured and sore. 

Bog looked over into the clear pool. It seemed that there was a small ridge you could stand on, but other than that it was a straight drop into the abyss. With his movements rigid and the uselessness of his leg and arm, Bog was concerned on how he would stay afloat. When he posed this question to Muuh, it seemed as if she had already planned a solution.  

With a swift movement, she removed the handmade straps that kept her small pouches; filled with provisions and potential weapons attached to her person and started to pull off the stitched sections of cloth and animal hide that made up her clothes.  

"You- really do not need to do that!" Bog encouraged.  

"If you drown, that would be a wasted death." Muuh said without a care as she pulled off the last remaining items of clothing.  

Refusing to look at her, Bog got to his feet and shuffled towards the edge of the bank.  

"You will not drown." Muuh whispered as she stood beside him. He could see the bareness of her arm and a section of her leg, but he dared not look anymore.  

"Jump." Muuh commanded, and he did just that.  

The water was surprisingly cool as his feet submerged and then his entire body. In his haste he had forgotten to breathe, so he gasped. Air danced around him in bubble form and water filled his lungs. Where was Muuh? With panic, he thrust his good arm about, and broke the surface for a moment, just enough to retain his form before the weight of the clay dragged him under once more. 

It was if someone had tied lead weights to him, he just seemed to continuously venture down. Looking upwards he could see the underbelly of the water, how light danced abstractly on the surface. He dropped his gaze to the water that enveloped him and saw Muuh swimming alongside him, as she had been doing the entire time.  

In the water, she moved as gracefully as she did while on land and in the trees. 

Bog helplessly watched her as she danced through the water. Her short hair floating with its own pace and gravity as she swam. She circled around Bog, slowly and graceful as if she was a creature of the water, rather than a human being like him.  

When she was completing her third circle, she stopped in front of him. The blue paint that was on her cheeks seemed to be water resistant, but the specks of clay were now gone. The patterns that decorated her arms also covered the rest of her body. Alongside the marks, Bog could also make out the devastating wounds. Healed scars, bruises and cuts littered her chest and legs.

Yet none of that mattered, for as she moved through the water, she was infinitely beautiful.  

As bog felt his lungs tighten and burn, Muuh took his hand and swam both of them back up to the surface.  

Bog gasped for air, not realising how much his body had been craving it. He spluttered and coughed as Muuh, her wet hair slicked back, swam up to him, guiding and pushing back up on to the bank.  

Bog clambered up with relative ease, panting as he tried to regain his normal breathing pattern. Muuh hoisted herself up and sat inquisitively by him, the water dripping off both their bodies and soaking the ground they lay on.  

"How long were we underwater?" Bog asked in between chokes. 

"Long enough for it to work." Muuh said, almost breathlessly.  

Bog did not understand what she meant until he found he could move his arm without any pain or numbing soreness. In excitement, he moved his leg and felt nothing.  

"How?!" Bog asked, stretching his shoulder out slowly. "It's like I never fell, I am completely healed!"

"We protect the forest," Muuh said, removing some stubborn, wet strands from her face, "in return, it protects us."  

*** 

As the chill wind of the night crept in, Bog found himself lying awake as stars twinkled madly through the canopy's leaves. 

The forest was quiet aside from the distant sound of the nocturnal animals as they hummed and buzzed in the night. 

He lay on his back and let his chest rhythmically rise and fall, he glanced over to Muuh who lay nearby, the animal hides covered her but the top of her head poked out.  

She lost all ferocity as she slept, as many creatures do.  

He watched her for a few moments, before focusing back on the star-ridden sky. Come the rising of the sun, he would leave here and journey back to Fairon, empty-handed, with potentially no knowledge or memory of his time within the forest.  

He couldn't go back with no recollection, the money offered for the job was nothing to pass up and he feared he would lose out if he failed to report anything. Even if what Impian said was true, and the forest disallowed him to remember – he needed something to show he was not insane.  

Instinctively, he reached out to a small rock that lay in a clump nearby. Quietly and with stealth Bog rummaged through his things until he found the item he was looking for. 

The bent crossbow arrow had retained some sharpness during the fall. Using the stars and moon as a source of light, Bog scratched a word into the stone's surface to help him remember. He chose something that if he forgot and someone else found the stone, the Fae would not be in any danger.  

When done, he rubbed a thumb over the scratch marks, feeling the inscription and taking a moment before he hid it amongst his possessions.  

Bog slipped back underneath the animal hides, closed his eyes and soon sleep consumed him. 

Muuh, who had been watching the ordeal, lay silently. She had kept her breathing regular as to give off the impression she was asleep. 

She had watched as the hunter discretely crept about, tightening the grip on the dagger she had hidden underneath the animal hide as she saw the flash of the metal arrow.  

As snores rose up from where the hunter lay, Muuh inquisitively rummaged through his belongings until she found the carved stone.  

Most Fae struggled with foreign inscriptions, but Muuh could faintly make them out. She traced the letters slowly with her finger, mouthing them out as she did so. 

She did not know why the hunter had carved her name into the stone, but she watched him as he lay asleep and wondered if humans were as bad as the stories suggested. 

*** 

Dawn broke and the creatures of the forest stirred from their sleep. 

Bog stretched, feeling the soft crack in his back and shoulders. With urgency, he got dressed. He was just securing his boots when Muuh dropped by out of a nearby tree.  

She was not wearing her headdress, but the blue paint looked as if it had been freshly applied. Her feet made little noise as she walked towards him, reaching into a pouch and producing some freshly picked berries.  

They sat in silence as Bog ate, and when finished Muuh explained that she, along with a few other Fae would accompany Bog to the forest's edge. 

Bruta, Wrenn and Impian were among the small crowd that watched to see Bog leave, which Bog presumed gave them some sort of reassurance that he as a threat, was gone.  

He was wondering where Plume was when he caught sight of her, away from the party on a high tree branch. She was watching him, as if she too, like the others, could not wait for his departure.  

The provisions supplied for him were secured tightly in a thick animal hide that he wrapped around his back. Muuh and the fellow Fae that made up the departure party stood waiting for him, their headdress on and masks down, spears, daggers and handmade hunting bows at the ready. 

As he turned to leave, Bog gave a singular bow of the head to Impian and the elder Fae gave one in return.  

A mutual sign of respect perhaps? Bog would never know.  

On foot, the journey outward was more pleasant, especially as Bog was not being constantly thrown about on top of a Fae's shoulder. 

The Fae kept a clear distance from Bog, only approaching when they needed to. Their relationship to Muuh was the same as if she had blue skin and working as a unit they successfully navigated through the forest.  

"We are close to the forest's edge." Muuh declared. "Just over this ridge, is a thin track that was once used as a trade route. From there you will set off on foot northward and be clear of the forest entirely."  

"How long until I return to Fairon?" Bog wondered aloud. 

"I have never left my home, so I am unsure. You said it was a day's ride, add a day or so if on foot."  

Bog nodded, but he thought along the way that there would at least be places he could rest or at least find a horse for the rest of the journey.  

The horse he had originally ridden on was now long gone, animals were smart and the steed had more than likely broken free and gone off in search of either food or shelter. It was a shame considering it was a reliable mount and it still had all of Bog's provisions from the initial journey.  

The Fae climbed over the ridge with ease, their feet scrambling on the outward rocks and roots. Once Bog had joined them on the ridge top, the Fae skidded down onto the side with the disregarded dirt track.  

Without command, they split off into the nearby trees – only Muuh and Bog were left on the track.  

"Follow this road, there is nothing that will harm you here. Unless you decide to throw yourself off a cliff face again." 

"Thank you Muuh, for saving me."  

"I did not, it was the fo-"  

"The forest, yes, but thank you anyway." Bog said, feeling the carved rock's weight that was hidden in his scabbard. "Muuh," Bog began, "I just-" 

She clamped her hand over his mouth, her palms sweaty from the morning's heat. 

Bog mumbled through her hand but she pushed harder, forcing him to keep quiet. She turned, her eyes wide with alertness. 

After a moment, she dropped her hand away from Bog's mouth. 

"What's wrong?" Bog asked, the feeling of unease rising in his chest. 

"I thought I heard somethi-" Muuh said but was interrupted by a piercing shriek. A Fae fell from above, a metal bolt sticking out from their chest, the blood slowly seeping from the wound as the Fae gasped and writhed. 

Men in uniform burst from the undergrowth, weapons and teeth bared.  

"Scouts!" Muuh cried, as she drew her dagger – ready for blood.  

Chapter Text

The withering Fae's screams were drowned out by the furious cry that Muuh roared as she charged for the oncoming group of men. Their uniformed spears and swords were already drawn for battle.  

The scouts broke off, they easily outnumbered the blue creatures, but the Fae; fearing for their lives and wild on bloodlust, fought back with vengeance. 

Muuh darted and dodged as swords were swung for her. She blocked the strike of a sword with only her dagger, the strength needed for the block making the muscles in her arms bulge. While the scouts' attention was on the clash, Muuh swiftly brought her knee up, driving it into his stomach hard enough for the scout to drop his guard. She then withdrew her blade and lashed out into the man's neck.  

The blow was quick, and the man sunk to his knees. His hands desperately trying to hold the wide, gaping wound in his neck. The blood squirted through the gaps of his shaking fingers.  

He fell down, dead. 

Bog, in the midst of the confusion, had run over to the Fae who first warned of the attack due to being struck by a metal bolt. He could provide neither comfort or help as the Fae now lay lifeless on the ground. As he closed their eyes, he heard a yell from behind him.  

Bog dodged, just in time as a sharp spear plunged into the dirt of where he once squatted. With no weapon, Bog could only avoid the attacks – but not for long. 

He knew he needed to get some hits in, but fists against steel was a stupid idea and a clear loss. The scout, a young, chiselled man in a somewhat familiar uniform roared again as he swiped and charged for Bog.

Losing his footing on the uneven ground, Bog hit the floor and rolled.  

Not wanting to be impaled, he rapidly got up and noticed the carved rock with Muuh's scratched name lying nearby to his feet. Waiting for the right opportunity as the scout launched again, Bog dived, grabbing the stone in one successful swoop. The scout, unbalanced by his opponent's sudden movement, stumbled. Bog took this opportunity to smash the rock against the scout's skull, with a loud crack, the scout fell to the ground. 

Unconscious or dead, Bog didn't much care at that moment. 

Quickly he pocketed the stone and grabbed the spear from the crumpled scout. 

Then, he ran for Muuh, who had already laid waste to three scouts, their blood staining the earth.  

Fae and Human stood fighting, the screams and cries of the dying were deafening.  

As Bog took down a scout with the newly acquired spear, he could see Muuh struggling. A scout had her in a headlock from behind, pinning her close to them so she couldn't breathe. She kicked and squirmed, her ankles smashing into the scout's thighs, but his armour protected him from a majority of the blows.  

Muuh screamed in frustration and bore her teeth into the exposed flesh on the man's forearm. Her teeth sank into the skin and vigorously turned her head so that she tore off a lump of bloody skin and wet tissue.  

The man let out a loud piercing cry as he clutched his arm, dropping Muuh in the process. She coughed and spluttered as the air returned to her lungs, not realising the man had brought up his sword to strike her with, in retaliation.   

With his feet leading him, Bog ran. His grip on the spear tightening subconsciously. He felt the resistance as the tip of the spear sunk into the scout's side, heard the man gasp and wheeze as the spear went through his organs, and out the other side, impaling him.  

Muuh, who had witnessed the act, stood panting as Bog released the spear from his hands. Sweat soaked her forehead and blood was smeared over her mouth.  

She looked terrifying, but her eyes said a silent thank you - a glimmer of innocence amongst the gore.  

Her attention was quickly diverted to the causalities of the surprise onslaught. The scouts, twenty in total lay on the dirt track. Including Muuh, seven Fae had left Nemus. Now only three aside from herself remained. 

The remaining Fae that were still alive drooped over the bodies of their fallen brethren, their howls dry and sorrowful. 

Muuh surveyed the area, wiping the blood from her mouth on the back of her hand as she did so. 

A small grunt was heard among the bodies, followed by a twitch. Muuh raised her dagger once more and slowly made her way to the scout Bog had smacked with the stone.  

With force, Muuh straddled him; using her weight to keep him from escaping. She wrapped one hand around his throat and with the other, plunged the dagger into the dirt next to his face. 

"You have been kept alive by the forest." She hissed, "why are you here?!"  

The man chocked out a few syllables, and unable to make sense, Muuh loosened her grip only slightly. 

"We are the reconnaissance wing - of the King's guard." The man wheezed and Bog knew he had recognised the uniform back from his time of employment under the throne.  

"I asked why you are here, not who you are!" Muuh roared, pressing her face closer to the downed scout. "Speak!" 

"We were tasked... with finding, something. We were never told what, we... we just presumed it was the Princess."  

Bog's ears pricked up as he squatted beside Muuh, not daring to argue with her tactic of questioning.  

"The King gave up the search a long time ago?" Bog queried, knowing full well that was why Princess Dawn had sought him out in the first place. 

"Our only orders were to kill anyone we came across." The scout said, his eyes darting wildly about, "Everyone knows no one is in the forest – but, we saw people, of blue, so we fired and-"  

Muuh squeezed tighter at the man's neck, his mouth gasping for air and his eyes straining.  

"Please!" He croaked, "Have mercy-" 

"I do not choose who lives and who dies. My blade strikes, but the blow is random. The forest chooses."  

The man, non-accustomed to the strange beliefs of the Fae darted his eyes pleadingly to Bog. 

"You're not like them-" The scout began to plead to Muuh in a mock whisper. Bog clocked on to the man's false tone of voice too late. Believing he had the advantage the scout lashed out, his curled fist aiming for Muuh. She ducked, dodging the clumsy strike and plunged her dagger into the man's throat.  

The man gurgled, crying out, calling Muuh a monster. He died quickly for the blade had severed an artery.  

Muuh shuffled and climbed off the body, rising to her feet. She looked at the bodies of both Fae and Scout, and tears came to her eyes. 

"The air smells of death." She whispered as she hung her head. "It burns my lungs."  

The remaining Fae, bloodied from their respective fights, turned to look at her. Not as a leader, but as part of a family.  

"Impian needs to know of what has happened here today, be told of what we have come to know." She turned to Bog, "You could have left in the heat of battle, used it to your advantage and escaped without injury. Yet you stayed behind and even killed one of your own."  

"I could not leave." Bog answered, his conscious was always a heavy burden, but the Fae had not deserved to be provokingly attacked. That, and he felt there was something else going on and not a simple case of crossed wires.  

When he returned to Fairon, he would tell Princess Dawn of the scouts and- 

Bog stopped mid-thought, for he realised he would not be able to tell her. 

The forest would make him forget, he would lose all his memories; including the ones right now.

Muuh had begun to walk towards the other Fae, who were stripping the scouts and taking whatever resources they could find.  

"Muuh!" Bog called out after her, she turned sharply.  

"When I return, I need to let people know of this, something is not right, they would not be looking for the princess as everyone has long-believed she is dead. I need to remember this when I have left the boundaries of the forest." 

She nodded, "'I have never seen someone until you, but there are - tales of people finding themselves lost to the forest'... that is what I said to you when we first met."  

Bog recalled, it felt like a lifetime ago. 

"I know these are just tales, whispers on the wind. One part is true - until you, no one had set foot into the forest nor left it." 

"I don't understand why that is relevant." Bog asked. 

"We are not in the forest."  

"But..." Bog processed the thought, "That would mean...?!" 

"The forest has not only kept you alive but has also allowed you to remember."  

*** 

Once they took the weapons and items needed from the dead bodies of the scouts, the Fae hurled them into a nearby deep revive, the bodies sinking beneath the churning waters. 

For the dead Fae, they removed any arrows or swords and began to carry them back to Nemus. 

Believing it to be a sign that the forest trusted him, Muuh convinced Bog to journey back with them. Her testimony, along with the remaining Fae would be enough for the Caput's, the heads of Fae society, to not kill him where he stood.  

The journey back was sombre and slow, due to deadweight of the Fae's they were carrying.

One Fae, who Bog recognised as the same soft-spoken Fae that had addressed Bruta when they first entered Nemus, wept quietly as they manoeuvred through the forest floor. 

A twinge in his chest caused Bog to approach the Fae while they stopped under a cluster of trees and rested. 

"Hello." Bog offered, he did not know what to say, only to make sure the Fae was alright. 

As they raised their head to look at him, Bog could see how young they were. 

The female Fae had large eyes, looking almost nocturnal in nature. It seemed like she had no energy left to converse. It was as if the fight had drained her.  

Bog had made a mental note of how the Fae carried their dead, Muuh had bluntly told him that they would carry their kin, while he was instructed to keep watch. But Bog had seen the young Fae struggle with the weight, both emotionally and physically - and wanted to aid in any way he could. 

He may be a bounty hunter, but he was not heartless. 

The Fae followed Bog's gaze to the nearby body, that lay face-down beside her.  

"Death is a heavy burden," she begun, "I carry my fallen friend with honour and pride. As she would have done for me." 

Bog nodded, not knowing what to do or say. He got to his feet and turned to go. 

"Though she was killed by one of your kind, she would have appreciated the help you provided during the attack, human."  

"Bog." He automatically corrected. 

"Laminae," she said with a pause. "Younger sister to the Caput of Hunting, Bruta."  

"You seem so different." Bog spoke without realising his words. 

"While each leaf grows differently, it is still of the same stem."

"Wise words." Bog acknowledged as the other Fae saddled up and began to press on. 

The remainder of the journey was equally silent, but Bog noticed a newfound strength in young Laminae and felt he was beginning to understand, albeit a little, the customs of the Forest and Fae. 

*** 

As they entered the clearing, there were shrieks and cries from the Fae who had come to welcome the departure party back and see if the human threat was gone for good. 

Startled blue faces ran forward to help lift the deceased off the weary Fae, Bog made sure to stand far back. 

Someone must have sent for the higher-ups, for within moments Bog could see the three of the four who conducted his trial, break through the clearing. Wrenn and Bruta, the youngest of the Caputs, ran forward while Impian kept a distance, standing close to the water's edge. 

"What happened?" Wrenn asked in a calm manner, but Bog could pick out the fear and anxiety in her voice.  

 "We were attacked." Muuh explained, letting a panicked Fae take the body she had been carrying.  

Bruta came forward, his face was twisted as he quickly scanned the faces of the dead.

He looked up and noticed Bog staring at him. 

"Why is the human here?" He commanded - his voice a roar in the eerie silence that fell on the Fae. 

"If he did not stay and help us, there would have been more casualties." Muuh told Bruta without raising her voice, "the attack occurred just on the outskirts of the forest, over the northern ridge. Scouts."  

"It could have been a trap-" Bruta begun, but he was cut off when Laminae stepped forward, a burning determination in both her stance and eyes.  

"If it was a trap, they would not have tried to kill him also." She argued without ferocity. Respecting authority was valued highly among the Fae, whether the superiors were of blood or not. 

Wrenn placed a clawed hand on Bruta's arm, a gesture amongst peers that action needed to be taken, but not now.  

There was a soft rustle, and Plume jumped down from the canopy above, her presence and sudden arrival made only Bog jump.

Kneeling by the lifeless Fae, Plume ran a slender finger down each cheek slowly. Her nails, like sharp tree roots, carefully traced the jawbone of each victim. The whole time, Plume kept her eyes closed, a soft hum echoing out from her throat as if she was in mid-chant.

When finished, her gaze quickly flickered on Bog, her expression unreadable. Then, her attention was diverted to the survivors.

"These souls gave their lives during an attack on both forest and Fae. We shall honour them by letting them return to the embrace of Nemus."  

Plume nodded towards a gathering with authority and three additional Fae helped move the bodies so that they were positioned on the pool's bank. From across the large body of water, Impian raised his hands. 

A gust of wind blew through the opening, the leaves and flowers swaying as the air blew through them. As the wind gradually died down, Bog could faintly hear a mummer of a chant, Impian with his withered hands raised and his head thrown back continued to chant as Fae appeared from everywhere. They positioned themselves on the roots over the water, in the trees above as well as far behind Impian on the opposite bank, watching, waiting.  

Bog watched silently, feeling like a true outsider. He stood, not daring to breathe as the Fae bowed their heads in respect for their fallen. It was then Impian began to glow. His blue skin glistened and shone, the overhead canopy blocked out enough sunlight to make his luminescent skin shine. Bog fought back a shocked gasp as the pool's surface too glistened, as if it was not made out of water but rather thousands of tiny stars, dancing underneath the surface.  

A faint ripple stirred in the centre of the pool, so gentle that Bog almost missed it. Another ripple moved on the surface, this time larger. Bog looked up, but could see no rain – how was this possible? 

The ripples grew larger, causing the water to move and push. Small waves, created by the ripples came forward, splashing against the bank that Bog, Muuh and others stood on. The waves covered the bodies of the dead, and as if it was rehearsed, the bodies were washed away, dragged back into the pool. The waves died and the ripples ceased, the stars that had once danced on the surface now faded as the water returned to its natural state. Impian, lowered his hands, his skin returning to a dull shade of blue. 

The wind whistled through the trees once more, like a soft whimper that the forest cried out for the loss of three of its children.  

"The forest will weep tonight, for our loss." Plume said, breaking the silence. "Muuh, you will speak with the Caputs and tell us what happened."  

Plume began to walk towards Impian, her feet treading silently on the mossy earth. She did not stop moving, but rather slowed down and looked over her shoulder.  

"You." She beckoned to Bog. "Come as well." 

*** 

 "I see." Impian acknowledged as Muuh finished speaking of the surprise attack. "The scouts have been searching for something, which-" Impian paused, turning his attention onto Bog, "which, you understand to be your lost princess?"  

"The scouts said that is what they were led to believe." Bog concluded, he could not shake the feeling of unease, everyone- aside from Princess Dawn – had thought the Crown Princess to be dead, why the sudden resurgence?  

Had they found a lead? 

Or was the King, or rather his counsel, after something else and did not tell the men on the ground? The forest was uncharted territory, believed to be so thick that no blade could cut down the surrounding undergrowth. The scouts who attacked today were the only humans aside from Bog who had ever seen a Fae, so there was no threat there surely. 

"This could be the start of more attacks." Bruta spoke up from where he was sitting in his caput seat.  

Wrenn nodded, "The scouts could bring more when they see that the humans have not returned."  

"We should increase patrols on the border-" Bruta began but Plume cut him off. 

"That would mean more chance for the scouts to become aware of us, we need to find out what they are searching for."  

"The princess?" Wrenn offered, who, along with Bruta had only heard of Bog's purpose for being in the forest until now.  

A troubled look hovered over Plume's face for a moment.  

Muuh took a confident step forward, her fists were clenched as they swayed by her sides. 

"Returning to his land will allow Bog the chance to discover what the scouts are after."  

"We cannot trust him!" Bruta cried, gesturing with his hand. "He is a human!" He spoke the last words without realising, but Muuh paid no attention, Plume darted Bruta a look from the corner of her eye. Bog wondered if growing up Muuh had received hostility from the creatures she fought so fiercely to protect. 

"That is why," Muuh said, "I will go with him."  

Silence. 

Plume steadily rose to her feet, her white hair tousling down in front of her.  

"They will slaughter you." Plume croaked as if trying to hold back the fear, angry and hurt of Muuh's choice. 

"That is a risk I am willing to take to protect us-" 

"No." 

"Plume, the forest could be in danger-"  

"No!" Plume cried before lowering herself back into her makeshift chair. "If you died out there, no one will bring you back to us. You will be lost forever." 

Muuh, as if knowing arguing against Plume was a losing battle turned her attention to the rest of the Caputs. "I could put an end to the scout raids, find out what they are after and stop them at the source, no more Fae would need to die." There was a hint of a plea in her voice that Bog almost dismissed as determination.  

Impian spoke, his calming voice chilling Bog's bones. "Hunter, you killed one of your own to save a Fae. Your motives are your own, but we are grateful. Would you do it again?"  

Bog chewed the question over in his mind, he did what he believed to be the right thing in the heat of the moment if the time called for it, could he do it again, to save... her? 

"In a heartbeat." Bog said without processing his own response. 

Muuh whipped her head around to face him, a hint of a smile on her lips. 

"What plan do you have?" Bruta inquired, "once on human ground you will be vulnerable."  

"The King." Muuh said triumphantly and Bog could not help but raise an eyebrow in suspicion. "The men were soldiers for the King, so the King must be in charge."  

"I-I highly doubt that." Bog inputted, "The king is less of a leader and more of a broken figurehead. His counsel and governors do most of the ordering about. It could easily be one of them orchestrating the scouts." 

"Could you get me to them?" Muuh asked.

Bog hesitated, what would she do? Plunge her knife into them? That would not end well for anyone.  

As if understanding his concern for her nature, she reassured him. "An enquiry would not raise suspicion, for all they know I could be a hermit of the woods?"  

Plume's long claws could be heard scraping into the hardened wood and twisted vine of her chair.  

"It would be a suicide mission! Impian-" She snapped her head around to him, her eyes fierce yet pleading, "forbid her to go." 

Impian sat quietly for a moment, "If nothing is done, more lives could be lost. Muuh can speak for the forest without alerting anyone to our presence, perhaps Plume-" He began, turning to meet her gaze, "-this is why you were able to help her survive all those years ago." 

"My child," Impian spoke, facing Muuh, "do you realise that once you leave this forest, you will be alone?"  

Muuh nodded. 

"Do you accept that death could be your coming fate?" 

"I do."  

Impian closed his eyes and spoke to all present before him. "For hundreds and thousands of years, we Fae have lived in secret, protecting our home. Humans have rarely threatened our existence, but with the growing greed and expansion of civilisations, I have always feared that one day it could lead to a clash that will change our lives forever." Bog could see the internal struggle in the old creatures bloodshot eyes, he supposed to them, they were sending Muuh to her death. 

"Venture out with the Hunter," Impian continued. "If you do not return when the moon is next full – we will accept your death."  

Muuh bowed, keeping her head low she whispered loud enough for all to hear; "I will not fail." 

Bog looked to see the eyes of the four Fae upon him. 

Worry, annoyance, fear and faith shone brightly in their demonic eyes, for Muuh seemed to be their only hope.

*** 

Together they stood on the dirt track of where they had valiantly fought off the surprise attackers. Blood still stained the dusty earth and the lingering smell of iron was faint in the air. 

Muuh stood, her gaze set on the horizon, where a land she never knew awaited. 

"Are you nervous?" Bog asked. 

"No." She snapped quickly, then softly added, "conflicted."  

Bog raised his eyebrows to silently question the response. Muuh sighed, "You asked me once if I was Fae, I am, but I am not like the others. I, I must have come from somewhere out there. The forest never made me forget, my memory forgot on its own. Something happened, but none of that matters now. I must do what I can to save those I love. Even if I must face humans who will slaughter us."

"I will help you." Bog offered, although he felt he did not need too, surely by now she must have realised he felt some form of compassion towards her. 

"This is my mission, not yours."  

"Mine was to find the lost princess, if that is what the scouts are searching for then perhaps our missions are intertwined."  

Muuh bit her lip, sighing once more. She turned, to take one last longing look at the forest - her home and sanctuary, before starting to walk north, towards Fairon with a bounty hunter in tow.  

If she had stayed for a moment longer, Muuh would have heard the Forest cry out for the death of three of its children and the potential loss of another.

Perhaps that would have been just enough, to make her stay.  

Chapter Text

"Has Fairon always been your home?" Muuh asked a short period after the pair had rested and fed. 

It seemed that the predicament she now found herself in had caused her to open up, perhaps it was Bog's defensive act where he had killed another man so that she could live that had built a foundation for trust. 

Still, no matter how many times he had to do it, especially in his line of work, the death of someone by your own hand was a heavy burden for Bog to bear.  

"I was born in another settlement outside the city, but my earliest memory takes place in Fairon."  

"What is that?"  

"The memory?" Bog queried, "It is of my father, he's teaching me to hunt."  

"Hunt as in, bounty hunting?"  

"No, just small animals, like birds and rodents. We never had much, my parents came to Fairon in hope of a better life."  

"Did they find it?"  

"I suppose in some ways." Bog answered, thinking of his parents. His mother had never got over the death of his father, not really, perhaps that was why she desperately dreamed for him to have a family of his own. 

Sensing the sombre shift in the atmosphere, Muuh decided to inquire about Fairon more, if she was to survive there, she wanted to know about the people and most importantly, the King. 

"The king is like Impian in the sense he rules over Fairon and its neighbouring settlements. His council, which I suppose you could liken to the other..." He tried to recall the word the Fae had addressed their superiors. 

"Caputs?" Muuh added. 

"Exactly, the King is head of the royal family. After the death of his wife and... eldest daughter, it's now just him and his youngest daughter, Princess Dawn."  

"Princess Dawn... is she the next King?"  

"She would become Queen, but she needs to get married before that."  

"Why?"  

"Commonly to strengthen bonds with neighbouring kingdoms, mainly the isles. There is a long history of trouble with them."  

"Does she marry out of love?" 

Bog was taken aback by Muuh suggesting something so sweet and gentle, it almost felt out of character. He had seen the woman slice men open, yet why did he feel so shocked when she mentioned love? 

"I... I highly doubt it."  

"You seem shocked?" Muuh pointed out as they walked across a ridgeway.  

"It feels ignorant of me, but I dismissed that side of the Fae. I witnessed first-hand the compassion amongst you when you brought the bodies back from the attack... but love, marriage? I thought these were human-made concepts." 

"Love is embedded into the Fae's way of life. We kill to protect what is sacred and what we love the most - our people and our home." 

"And marriage?"  

"To the Fae, it is more of a blessing, the forest sings and the union is made. There are no arrangements, it only happens when love is present."  

"So there are no forced marriages or unions?"  

Muuh shook her head, "If one wishes to mate with the other, then the other must also feel the same. This is the way it has always been. Sometimes, a Fae will never mate as their loved one does not return their affections."  

Bog understood, after all, he knew what it was like to be lonely. 

"Bruta is one, but I'm sure that will change. Now that I have left."  

Bog stopped mid-stride. "You and Bruta?"  

"It was years ago, we were barely even fully-fledged Fae. I just never felt the same as he did for me, it was for the best. If I die, I need not worry. Plume will weep for me, but she will age and move on. It is easy that way."  

The way Muuh spoke about death was like she did not fear it, but rather viewed it as a way of life, an event that she would welcome with open arms.  

Once they passed through small ridges carved out of heightened cliffs, the pair rested, eating away gradually at their rations. As the sky became alight with the purples and blues of an oncoming night, Muuh grilled Bog more about life within Fairon. 

"How do the women of your home dress? I must look like them to fit in." 

Bog looked across to Muuh, who sat chewing dried meat. She had left the ceremonial dress of shawl and mask behind; the blue paint, however, was still crusted on her face and arms. The blood was long since washed away, but Bog couldn't forget how she looked as she spat out a chunk of flesh in the heat of battle.  

He thought of the fair ladies he had seen at the palace when he was patrolling as a King's guard, their hair rolled up and secured with pins decorated with flowers and pearls. How their dresses were lined with lace and flowed to the ground, almost making it impossible for them to walk at a steady pace. 

How most he had come across appeared fickle, caring little for the hardships the poorer Faironians had to endure and more for the luscious balls and banquets.  

Those who had less money still idolised those who bathed in riches, even his mother was prone to comment on a fine gown or latest trend.  

"It would be like another world to you. Women in Fairon are not like the female Faes, they are deemed as weak and only for men's pleasure, whether that be simply to look at or physical."  

Muuh lowered her food and leaned in close. 

"Do you see them that way?"  

"Of course not, I was raised by the most annoying yet fearsome women I know, that is until I met you. But not everyone shares my ethos." 

Muuh rested back into a seated position with a sigh. "With each passing step getting closer to the King and protecting my people feels more and more of a challenge."  

Bog shared a look of sympathy, "I might know someone who can help us if you are willing to trust me?"  

"If you did not trust me when you fell you would be dead, so I extend the same courtesy."  

"When we get back to Fair-" 

"Stop." 

"What's-" But Muuh had already got onto her feet, keeping low to the ground in a semi-squat.  

"Can you hear that?" She whispered just loud enough for Bog to hear. 

He strained, listening to the sounds of dusk; the odd bird cry and the low wind rustling, until he faintly heard clattering coming from nearby, then, the more he listened the more he could make out voices, an array of them. 

Bog mouthed to Muuh they should investigate, he feared they could potentially be bandits and if they were out in the open and asleep, they would simply be sitting ducks for them. 

Gathering up their few belongings, Bog and Muuh stayed low. The landscape they were in had a sparse number of trees and open ground, so the hills would have to act as cover for now.  

Muuh reached the peak first, her body pressed deep into the earth. Bog followed close behind, nestling next to her to get a view of their encroaching company. 

From up on their vantage point, Bog could see a makeshift camp that lay between two high hills. There were a few tents, some larger than others which looked like they could either store rations or people. A campfire dimly burnt in the centre and around it were men decorated in the King's uniform. 

"Scouts." Bog murmured and he could hear Muuh grind her teeth.  

"It's best," he continued, "if we ignore them and pass over the low ridge that way, avoiding them completely."  

Muuh shifted so her head was facing Bog's, the grass was pressed up against her cheeks so that her amber eyes looked like those belonging to a predator. 

"What if they are heading towards the forest?"  

Bog stole another look down at the camp, from his experience, both as a bounty hunter and an ex-member of the King's guard, he reckoned they hadn't been here for long. The tents seemed relatively clean, and in terrain like this – the cotton sheets could easily become dirty, especially if it rained. 

Their positioning, both this far from the forest and Fairon gave the impression they were simply a supply camp. The few horses tied up suggested that much. 

Bog squinted his eyes some more, he couldn't be sure but among the mounts stood one that looked very much like the horse he had ridden out to the forest on. 

Muuh, still awaiting an answer followed his line of sight and spotted the horses.  

"We should take one." Muuh said in a hushed tone, "it would mean less time on foot."  

"See the one on the far right? I think that is my horse. They must have found it on the outskirts of the forest." 

"Approaching without being sighted will be hard, see any blind spots?" Muuh asked. 

"There." Bog pointed to a poorly made fence that kept the horses away from the rest of the main camp. If they could circle around and come from behind, they could take the horse undetected, even if it was not his mount, Bog would not refuse the opportunity to travel back to Fairon in quicker time.

They descended back down the hill and waited until nightfall. Confident that their plan would have a higher success rate as the moon shone overhead, the pair manoeuvred around, so when they came out of the ridge they were positioned behind the horses.  

About to emerge from their cover, Muuh noticed two patrolling men, one circled the outside perimeter of the camp one way, the other the opposite. Their lanterns softly swung in front of them, illuminating their steps.  

"I can take out one if you circle around and take out the other." Muuh suggested, pulling out her knife.  

"Killing them will draw attention to ourselves." 

"I was going to use the blunt end." Muuh said softly and even though he could not see her, Bog believed she was smiling. 

Waiting for the right opportunity, the two took off. Keeping her footsteps light, Muuh crept up behind the patrolling soldier, she followed until he was in the blind spot behind the horses and pounced. Thrusting the blunt end of her knife against his head, he fell to the ground without a noise. Snuffing out the lantern's light, Muuh double checked that the scout was still breathing. 

Unfortunately, he was.  

Muuh knew she did not have time to wonder whether or not Bog had been successful in taking out the guard, she just knew she needed him to get the job done.  

As much as she did not want to rely on him, he was her best chance of survival in the approaching strange world. 

The horses were kept in a small paddock, barely large enough for all of them. They must have heard her approach as they started to move about, their hooves turning up the earth.  

"Sssh, I am your friend." She called to them quietly, to which the horses seemed to react by becoming less agitated.  

With ease she vaulted over the planks of woods that made up the back fence, squeezing to the side of which Bog's horse was on.  

She ran her hand through the horse's fine coarse hair, speaking to the beast as she did so. 

"Do you know of Bog, the bounty hunter?" She whispered to the horse, to which she felt the creature bow its head.  

"He is here now, we are going to free you."  

The horse let out a low nicker in appreciation and Muuh set to work cutting through the cord that connected the horse to a nearby wooden post. Once she felt the tension cut, she shuffled around in the paddock, debating about cutting the other horses free but realising in the low visibility of the moonlight that Bog's mount was the only one that had been tied up.  

Muuh was about to make a start removing the back panels of wood when she heard a loud noise coming from a tent just the other side of the encampment.  

* 

Bog had taken out his guard with ease. 

Using an age-old chocking method, the scout had collapsed to the ground unconscious, his light going out as the lantern fell onto the upturned muddy earth. 

Within the moment Bog took to breathe a sigh of relief that the first part of the plan went off without a hitch, he heard approaching voices.  

Panicking, Bog pulled the dead-weight body behind a small man-sized tent and prayed that no one would either see nor hear him. 

As Bog held his breath, the voices grew louder. 

"The patrol ought to 'ave come back by now." A deep voice commented, followed by a grotesque inhale. 

"You've heard the rumours, people go into that forest and don't come out."  

"No one believes the ghost stories."  

"Captain seems convinced. I mean, you ain't ever seen him around here have you?"  

"Don't speak ill of the captain, that sorta thing gets you locked up. Besides, he gets all his orders from the higher uppers and they don't want him 'ere." 

"They're afraid of whatever is in that forest."  

"What? Wild animals?" 

"Weren't wild animals that killed the Queen and Princess all those years ago." 

The skeptic scout sighed. "I won't be surprised if you end up being thrown in jail. Just, let it be what it is – an exploration, you know, looking for resources and stuff. "  

"You believe what you want, but that patrol won't be back by the time we leave tomorrow." 

"Even if they don't, we still have the foundations for the maps the captain wants." 

"Pfft," the arguing soldier scoffed, "not sure what he's going to do with those. The whole thing is a big waste of time..." His voice trailed off and gradually became distant. Bog risked looking around the corner of the tent to see the guards wandering off towards the centre of camp. 

By now, Muuh had probably freed the horse and was waiting for him, but the mention of the maps had peaked his interest. Keeping low, he flanked the side of the pitched tent and when he was sure no one had spotted him, Bog snuck inside. 

A lone lantern, its wick nearly burnt out sat upon an aged trunk, its edges battered as if it had travelled with the company for many a year. Not much else filled the tent, aside from a collapsible wooden table and on it the scattered sheets of papers and parchments.  

Bog scanned the contents; briefs for the men, orders, ration and stock lists. Nothing seemingly damaging for the Fae. Instead, he decided to turn his attention to the trunk, lifting the lantern off and using its flicking light to unlatch the lock.  

With a shallow creak, he lifted the lid, placing the lantern beside him in order to keep the trunk open. Inside nestled on brown furs and a few gold coins was a stack of crumpled papers. It was addressed to the Captain of the men, a name that Bog recognised too well from his days of service. 

Captain Daymond, a pompous prat that wasn't fit to lead even his own two feet. 

Using one hand, Bog flicked through the stack, rough sketches of roads and routes to and from the forest, with each page adding something extra as the scouts explored deeper.  

It was a good thing that the scouts they had fought would not be returning, the information they possessed as they died would have been far too incriminating.  

Bog snatched the papers, releasing his grip off the trunk's lid. Rolling the papers tightly, he stuffed them securely into his belt. He picked up the lantern and was about to close the trunk when the weight of the lid came crashing down. With a curse, Bog heard shouts and approaching footsteps.  

He scanned the tent as he tried to weigh his options. There were too many within the camp to fight, even with Muuh's aid, if she hadn't ridden off by now.  

The back end of the tent was secured by large, metal pegs that refused to budge as Bog desperately tried to pull them out.

Bog was running out of ideas and running out of them fast. 

That's when he heard horses, their loud whinnies breaking across the encampment as their hooves pummelled the earth.  

The release sprouted the scouts into action, forgetting about the noise as they tried to capture their mounts. Bog raced through the tent, peeking out the entrance before bolting it around and behind the tent.  

"Hey! You there! Stop!" A voice cried and Bog ran harder, the sound of horses drowning out the men after him.  

He risked a quick glance over his shoulder at the soldiers, their lanterns flew erratically in the dark, illuminating their drawn weapons. 

Bog turned just in time to see a horse abruptly come to a halt in front of him. 

"GET ON!" Muuh cried, her hand outstretched for Bog to take. 

He took her hand in his, she pulled upwards and he jumped, managing to keep stable on the horse. 

Instinctively he held onto her as the horse bolted away from the encampment, the cries of enraged scouts fading as they fled. 

The muscles burned in his legs and the air stung as it refilled his lungs, but with his free hand, he felt for the wad of parchment.  

Thankfully, it had survived the escape. 

"I thought you were taking out the guard." Muuh called over her shoulder, keeping her attention on the horse and their destination. 

"I did." Bog managed, "But I found maps." 

"Maps?" Muuh eased the horse into a slower pace, turning around to catch Bog's eye. "Maps of the forest?"  

"Yes, addressed to their captain." He pulled out the rolled-up parchment for Muuh to see. "They are all here." Bog paused before returning the papers to his belt. "Did you free the horses?" 

"I thought you were in danger." 

"You saved me yet again." Bog remarked softly and he could hear Muuh smile. 

"I need you alive as much as you need me." She responded confidently. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"Well, you are the one who keeps ending up in danger." Muuh chuckled lightly.

"If I didn't end up in danger," Bog started, not even registering what he was saying, "then I would not have met you."  

Muuh turned to face him, it was a brief glance and their eyes met, but her smile dropped and she returned to face the front as if Bog's words had both unnerved and upset her.

"We should get to Fairon by sundown tomorrow." She muttered dismissively. 

The pair rode on in awkward silence, through hillsides and valleys underneath a blanket of stars.  

Chapter Text

The warm dusk light shone across the earth as they approached the infamous city.  

For a while now they had been able to see the tops of turrets before the rest of the castle came into focus. 

Muuh brought the horse to a halt, taking in the view.  

She made a small gasping sound as if she was breathless from such a sight.  

Bog jumped down from off the horse and patted it for good measure. He too turned to face Fairon's majestic centrepiece. The castle rose from the middle of the city, its aged bricks twirling into the sky to form its keeps. The structure, however, was equally grand in width as it was in height, with enlarged halls that backed onto the royal gardens.  

It was such a contrast to the outer layers of the city, where hooligans and criminals lived in squalor.  

"The king is there?" Muuh asked breathlessly. 

Bog answered and faced her, her amber eyes danced in the dying sun's rays and she did not let her gaze break away from the landscape before her.  

"Aye, he is. Getting to him, or anyone in the royal court will be no easy feat. Princess Dawn will be sending a messenger soon – that will be our ticket."  

"And," She began, finally breaking her gaze and turning to him, a softer expression on her face, "what will we do in the meantime?"  

"You said you wanted to be able to blend in, so we are going somewhere safe and secluded to do just that." 

"Where?" Muuh pressed. 

"My home." Bog announced, pointing across the valley to a shape in the distance.  

*** 

"Strange." Muuh commented as she guided the horse to the shack, with Bog leading the way.   

"Strange?" Bog repeated, intrigued to see how one who slept on a forest floor considered his home an oddity. 

"You live in a man-made cave." She commented curiously as she left the horse and ran her hand over the wooden beams that made the exterior. "A cave made from wood."  

Bog felt like Muuh was a breath of fresh air, she was so fierce and tough, and yet, there was a side of her that was almost like a child when it came to being in awe.  

Bog tied up the horse in the makeshift stable he had erected where the mount happily munched on oats and slurped up water from the nearby trough. Coming back around Bog saw Muuh once again staring out into the distance, her focus on the looming kingdom and its castle. 

He thought about reaching out and comforting her, a small gesture between two people with a united goal, but he decided against it. Muuh was already on edge given the circumstances, she had given up her life to find a way to protect the forest and Bog admired her bravery.  

Still, there was something he needed to warn her about. 

"Three others share this house with me, I trust each one with my life." Bog began as he stood next to her, looking out towards Fairon as well. 

"You have no reason to fear them, but they might ask questions." Bog thought of his mother and her manic behaviour, "they will ask you questions, what you say is entirely up to you, but I will back you up regardless of whatever story you weave." 

"If you trust them, then so shall I. I trust you after all." 

Bog stood there in silence and continued to do so even when she turned to look at him. With a forced cough, Bog cleared his throat. "Come," he said gesturing back to the shack, "we need to rest before we start the preparations." 

"Preparations?" Muuh echoed as Bog opened the shack's door, letting light seep into the darkness.  

"Preparing for whatever comes next." 

*** 

He gave up his bed for Muuh, even though she was reluctant to accept the gesture at first.

But even though she was a warrior, she, like him, was exhausted from the series of events that unfolded around them. After using up the last of their rations, Muuh fell asleep – but just like the last time, Bog was unsure if she was resting – while her chest rose and fell, there was an element to her that made it seem like she was ready to pounce at any given moment.  

Poking the logs and letting the fire he created warm up the room, Bog settled down in front of the hearth. He barely watched the embers flicker and dance before he was taken by sleep, succumbing to the tired feeling that had been hanging over him for a while. 

When he next opened his eyes, the morning sun broke through the shutters, illuminating the room. For a moment, he forgot of his venture, the forest and the mysterious girl. But the sudden jolt in his side, soon made him remember. 

Bog rolled on his back with minimal effort to see his mother standing over him, her hands perched on her hips.  

"Mornin'." Bog croaked. 

"You have some nerve, I know you were working for the crown and in 'the field' but no word? This so-called profession of yours will be the death of me!" 

Bog fought the urge to sigh and turn over and instead got to his feet. 

"And another thing-" Griselda proclaimed as she stormed across the room, "what's wrong with your bed? You can't just collapse in front of the fire whenever you feel like it." Griselda was already at his door before he realised what she was going to do.  

"Don't!" He called out, but it was too late.  

Griselda was in his room. 

She let out a deafening scream that would put a morning howl of a cockerel to shame and darted behind Bog for protection. 

"There's a girl in your bed!" Griselda screamed, then she took a moment and paused.  

"There's a girl. In your bed." She repeated, with a much calmer and more interested tone.  

Bog let out a deep sigh as he trudged over to the wooden door left wide open. Muuh was rocking on her feet, her dagger was drawn but it was not up in an attacking position – she looked as equally startled as his mother had.  

"Muuh, I see you've met my mother."  

Griselda poked her head around the doorframe and eyed the girl suspiciously. 

Muuh placed the dagger back into its holder and clamoured off the bed from where she had been squatting.  

"Muuh." She greeted, her hand splayed on her chest.  

"Can she not speak?" Griselda whispered loudly to Bog, who rolled his eyes.  

"Muuh is her name."  

"Who has a name like that?" Griselda inquired. 

"You named me Bog."  

"Your father and I gave you a far greater name, but you decided to shorten it."  

He was about to argue when his mother stepped away from the doorframe, "Griselda." She said, copying Muuh's action. 

"Muuh," Bog said, ceasing his opportunity as the tension died down. "Do you recall me saying there was someone in Fairon who could help us? This is the woman." 

When Muuh had wanted to know of the Fairon women in order to succeed with her mission, Bog's mind instantly turned to his mother. While she was on the lower end of the social spectrum, Griselda was a fountain of knowledge when it came to high fashion and social etiquette.  

"Help you? Help you with what?" Griselda questioned.

Before he could open his mouth, Muuh was already explaining.

"I need to speak with the King and his council, looking more like I am from your land would make him more inclined to hold an audience with me."  

Griselda simply stared at her.  

"Why would you need an audience from the King?" Griselda asked, confusion prominent in her voice. 

"Mother, I think the council are up to something, they keep sending in scouts to the forest and-" 

"You dragged this poor girl into this?" Griselda interrupted, pointing to Muuh but her glare focused on Bog. 

"What? No, I-"  

"I know you do what you do because you saw the true horror of how people like us are treated, but you can't keep holding on to such grudges for the nobles. Is this why you took that job from the Princess? So, you could get some leverage?!"  

"No! Why on earth would you-"  

"I awake to find you have taken this poor girl from god knows where and brought her into your schemes! How far will this go Bog? It's not the crown's fault your father died!" 

The room hung in silence for a second. The mention of his father, and his mother's true belief for why Bog did what he did, always silenced him.

"The crown is at fault." Muuh spoke up, her voice cutting the atmosphere like a sharpened blade. 

Griselda spun to face her, her features calmer. "Whatever he's been telling you, it's not true. The King and his daughter are good people who have suffered a loss and my lord, I know what loss is like."  

"As do I. I have had to walk with my family dead on my back, I have had to wade in their blood. It may not be the people at fault, the King nor his surviving daughter, but someone is causing my people harm and I cannot stand idly by. I saved your son from death and he saved me when scouts came to kill us, sent by the crown. If you will not help us, then that is fine, but do not try and stop us."  

"Where are you from, Muuh?"  

Muuh let her eyes flicker over to Bog, he nodded. It was her choice what she said, whether that be the truth or a structured lie to hide who she was. Then again, she had said she trusted him and a familiar sensation pulsated weakly in Bog's chest. 

"Is it... the forest?" Griselda asked. 

Before Muuh could speak, Griselda nodded, "I thought so." She commented before exiting the room. 

Muuh flashed Bog a startled look and followed Griselda out of the room, Bog close on their heels. 

"What do you mean 'I thought so?" Bog declared as his mother grabbed the large pot and positioned it over the hearth where Bog had slept, the cinders now long dead amongst the charred logs.  

Without turning around, his mother began to speak; her voice distant as if she was trying to recall a distant yet treasured memory. 

"When I was a young girl, there was this story that I heard, I only heard it the once but I was filled with so much wonder that I couldn't ever forget it. How there were creatures hidden deep within the forest, born there to protect the forest's heart. People had said they could see figures moving within the trees when they passed by in their carts. When your father and I moved to Fairon, I kept wide awake the whole journey, hoping to catch a glimpse. In the light, I swear I could see something through the trees, but I dismissed it because everyone thought they were just fairy tales." 

"You have never mentioned this before." Bog growled. 

"Why would I? You were never really the fairy tale sort son." 

Griselda turned to Muuh, a calm and loving look in her eye. "You look like this all seems new to you, I know he-" She gestured to Bog with a sideways bob of her head, "- is the hunter, but nothing gets past me. The way you look, act and talk show you are from somewhere outside the neighbouring kingdoms. You said scouts were sent to kill you if that order came from higher up and they know straight away you are from the forest, you'll be in trouble for sure." 

"Do this mean you will help?" Bog asked, his long arms folded across his chest. 

Griselda promptly ignored him, not letting Muuh out of her sight. 

"I'll help." Griselda said with a kind smile, but as she turned to face her son, the smile dropped. "You, however, I haven't forgiven." 

"I haven't done anything!" Bog grunted but Muuh reached out and touched him gently on the arm. Bog was surprised at such a timid gesture, normally Muuh was throwing her hand over his mouth to silence him. He noticed the look on her face, the same one of awe she wore as she gazed longingly at the towering castle.

"Could you tell me more about this 'heart'?" Muuh asked Griselda. 

Bog looked down at her, curiosity shining in her eyes.  

"There's not much I know dearie, apart from what I have already told you. In the tale, the heart was protected by the creatures and it was so precious they gave their lives for it. If you are from the forest, then you will know what it is." Griselda trailed off and trotted to a back room that acted as her quarters. The sound of her rummaging through drawers echoed out to where Bog and Muuh stood. 

"A heart?" Bog queried, "I wonder." 

Bog retrieved the map, placing it on the table and smoothing out the edges. He poured over the contents as Muuh leaned in next to him.  

"The scout had said they believed they were looking for the princess, but the King gave that search up long ago, could it be this heart they are after instead?"  

"There is no heart." Muuh explained as she viewed the map Bog had laid out with great consideration. "There is nothing it could be... except... " Muuh muttered to herself at first, before pitching the idea to Bog as she studied the ink lines of the diagrams drawn on the parchment. "Nemus is a central point within the forest, it is the heart of where we live and thrive. Could this 'heart' your mother mentioned, mean the Fae and our home?"   

Bog continued to study the drawings, it would appear that the scouts had not ventured so deep within the forest as of yet – but it was still something to be cautious about. If this 'heart' was what they were really after, it just left more questions. What would the King want with the forest? Was the secret of the Fae known to more people than he had thought? Time was short enough as it was, Princess Dawn's messenger was not due to arrive for a while; it left time to prepare and then some. The first problem, however, was seeking an audience with King; and giving Muuh a realistic disguise. 

Griselda returned from the back room, carrying a handful of clothing, layered so tall her head just about poked over the top of the pile.  

"Right, let's make a start." She said, throwing the bundle onto the table top.  

Bog sighed as he snatched the makeshift map before it was buried under dresses. "Not too over the top mother, just enough to fool the nobles." 

Griselda scoffed and rolled her eyes, inviting Muuh to take a seat. With caution, the girl sat. It was clear she was uncomfortable, her posture rigid and eyes wide as she watched Griselda pull dress after dress from the pile. 

"Bog, go make yourself useful and fill up the bathing bucket." 

With a grunt, Bog turned to leave, but he felt a hand hold onto him. Muuh's grip was intense, but it communicated exactly how she was feeling. She may have been raised in the forest, but she was out of her depths here already – and that frightened her. 

"She is scary, but while you're here, you will be safe." Bog replied in a low voice, Muuh's grip loosened and returned to her side as she relaxed.

As soon as Bog had filled the metallic basin with collected rainwater and brought it back inside, resting it once more on the heath above the fire, he was ushered out almost immediately to allow Muuh to bathe in privacy.  

Sitting outside, Bog once again pulled out the map. By now he was sure the mayhem they had caused at the camp would have been reported back to the authorities, thankfully it was dark and no one had seen them, but he could not believe how careless he had been. How careless she made him act.  

"Ah! You have returned!" Tien groggily cheered as he and Shiv slumped up to the shack side by side. 

"You two look a little worse for wears." Bog commented as the pair approached, the dark circles under Shiv's intense glare more prominent than usual. 

Tien attempted a smile, "went out to celebrate. In all honesty, I drank far too much – but the ale was so-"  

"Celebrate?" Bog asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes shifting between the two. 

"Don't even think about it." Shiv cursed catching onto Bog's thought process. "We passed through the back streets and everyone was already celebrating the engagement, got swept up in it all. Tein was right though, the ale was-" 

"Engagement? Whose engagement?!"  

"The Princess'."  

"Dawn?!" Bog cried with bewilderment. The image of the young girl who had sought him out flashed before him, her large eyes brimming with tears. He realised that regardless of her secret request, the princess would have to continue with life as normal. Within the noble circles, marriage for power and property was so common, Bog should have realised it was coming. After all, Princess Marianne had been engaged to be wed when she was but a child to that insufferable blonde fool who continued to loiter around the palace. Perhaps her death was a lucky escape from that future.   

The wooden door unbolted and Griselda popped her head out.  

"Ah, Shiv, Tien - we have company, so be on your best behaviour." She looked at Bog, a smug smile plastered all over her face. "She scrubs up rather well you know." 

Bog could have sworn he saw her wink. 

Griselda stepped back from the door and allowed the trio to file in. Bog stopped still as the door closed behind him, his eyes fixated on Muuh.

Free from any lingering paint or blood splatters, Muuh stood fresh-faced before him. Her wild hair, still damp from the bath water, was now combed back. With all the excess hair off her face, Bog could see just how enlarged her eyes were, and how the amber sparkled in them. His mother had opted for a long-sleeved gown, a wise choice to hide the scars and wounds that would indicate she was anything but a woman of Fairon and its lands. The dress was long, with the hem hovering just shy off the floor. It was the colour of chestnuts and crushed autumn leaves, a suitable shade so to not draw much attention when they ventured to the castle. The material clung to Muuh's figure, but also graced her with some breathing room. As she approached him, her muscles bulged underneath the fabric.

Bog could feel his face grow warm, blood rushing up to his cheeks. Thankfully, there was a knock at the door, followed by another series of rushed thuds. 

Distracted, Bog turned to answer it. But not before a feeling of unease hit him. Where they lived, they got little to no one coming out to their location. Bog's reputation made sure of that.  

As the door swung open, a small man stood outside. He looked anxious and panicked, the worried glances he kept doing over his shoulder told Bog that.   

"What do you want?" Bog grunted, knowing niceties where a waste of time when people came to visit – since they only wanted one thing.  

"Are, are you Bog - the Bounty Hunter?" The man asked timidly. 

"Aye, but I'm taking no requests or missions so you can-"  

"I am here on behalf of the princess."  The man spluttered.

Bog crossed his arms over his chest, "the messenger was not due for another week or so."  

The man sighed, "I know, but we, she, does not have much time."  

"The engagement?" Bog inquired and the man nodded. 

"I can't let her marry him, you are my only hope. Did you... did you find anything?" The man pleaded. 

Bog quickly glanced over his shoulder at Muuh, who stood behind him with a dagger tucked away at her side, concealed beneath the folds of her dress.

He had not expected to find anything when he rode out into the forest, and yet he had found her. Or rather, she had found him and made sure he survived when she could of easily let him die. She would have said it was the 'will of the forest', but Bog did not believe it was just that. Muuh was a stranger in both his world and hers and was willing to do anything to get an audience with the king in order to save the Fae. 

Perhaps deception was to be the only way to get what they needed. 

Bog prayed he would not regret the lie he was about to weave.  

"I think," Bog began, "I found Princess Marianne."  

Chapter Text

"You... you have?"  

Bog nodded sheepishly, though he tried to hide with it with confidence. 

The small man sidestepped and peered behind Bog. He inhaled with a shallow gasp when his eyes fell on Muuh. 

Swallowing, Bog allowed the man to step inside. With caution, the messenger crept towards Muuh. Bog closed the door and went to her side, the man stood still, transfixed, his eyes running repeatedly over her face. 

"You know, it's been so many years... you would think that someone, anyone would have come forward. But no, no one."  

Bog could see his mother fold her arms and glare at him from across the room, thankfully she remained quiet. 

"Marianne?" The man asked as if prompting her to speak because as of yet she had not uttered a word. 

"M-" Muuh went to say as if to correct him, but Bog squeezed her hand. He hoped she'd get the message, otherwise, it would take a lot of talking to get out of this situation.

He was in a grey enough area already.  

"I have... so many questions." The messenger said in a hushed whisper. His eyes kept searching for something within Muuh's expressions, but there was nothing.  

"Sunny." The man re-introduced, putting his hand to his chest. "Do you... remember?"  

Bog could read Muuh's body language like a well-known book, the tightening of her muscles and the sudden inhale of breath were all too familiar.  

"I fear she has amnesia," Bog began, "and while I was aware that the Princess would be sending a messenger, I feel I must discuss these matters with her personally." 

"To think, I came out here as a desperate act... I did not think for a second there would be any hope." The man muttered, "I can arrange a meeting for you within the palace, in private. It would reflect badly on the Princess if someone like you... well... someone with your occupation was caught wandering about. I mean if anyone knew she sought you out in a tavern to begin with of all places..." 

"When will this meeting be?" Bog inquired, pressing for details and ignoring the man's ramblings.  

"If you journey with me back to Fairon, it can be today." 

*** 

They set off on foot to allow the horse more time to rest since it had carried them from the encampment.

Griselda begrudgingly accepted to stay behind along with Tien and Shiv, though she made it all too clear how she felt about Bog's lie and how it would not only affect him but everyone else within the kingdom if he was found out.

Bog inwardly bit his lip, for all her annoyances, his mother was right. A heat of the moment decision could leave so many people broken-hearted, but was a broken heart better than the Fae needlessly dying? If lying to get Muuh into the palace meant he had to inflict emotional suffering on Dawn, then so be it. It was cruel, but he had little choice. 

That, and there was a strange voice at the back of his head that reminded him of why he made that choice in the beginning. Muuh could not remember her past, so who was to say she was not the Princess. For now, he could not dwell on the matter, much more pressing issues were encroaching. 

"You lied." Muuh muttered as they walked through Fairon's streets, taking less populated back roads to avoid as many people as possible. 

"I-" 

"Did what needed to be done?" Muuh finished, glancing sideways up at him. "I am aware, it was a bold yet smart move, time is not our friend. That being said, I have lost family, if someone told me they had found them and it turned out to be far from the truth, it would hurt enough to kill." 

"The Princess will not kill me." 

"Do not underestimate a Princess."  

Though he was known for being heartless, Bog was far from it. There was turmoil within every choice he made, every hunt he participated in. Being emotional made him realise just how heartless he had become over the years. 

"Am I to buy time with her?" Muuh whispered as they continued towards the castle.  

"Truth be told, we are playing currently by ear. There are a number of ways this will play out and you are more likely to be welcomed within the castle than me. I am a seasoned bounty hunter with a distaste for the crown, they will not be at the castle gates waiting for me with open arms, that's for sure."

Sunny, the messenger, bounded back down the street towards them. He had scurried off ahead, cloak flying rapidly behind him so that he would not be seen with the bounty hunter so close to the castle but also to secure passage into the grounds and get word to Princess Dawn of their arrival. 

In between pants, the messenger spoke. "The Princess is aware of your presence and a meeting will take place in a secluded side hall." Sunny explained, handing Bog a parchment. "Show this to those on the gate, you will be guaranteed access. Now, when you are announced, the Princess will then dismiss all guards bar one, my old man, and you can converse in relative privacy." 

"Thank you." Muuh thanked in a humble tone as Sunny retreated back to the castle so that his cover would not be blown.

Together they approached the looming, regal building and were easily granted access into its grounds, though the guards eyed Bog suspiciously, he tried his best to keep a low profile. 

From the gate they were escorted by a member of the castle guard. Bog did not recognise him and summarised he must have become a recruit long after Bog had left. As they made their way through the courtyard, Muuh kept silent. Her eyes wandered over every piece of pebbled ground as if lost in deep contemplation. 

When entering the castle itself, Muuh's eyes ceased wandering and instead were set straight ahead, as if she had allowed herself time to take in surroundings, but now was the time for action. 

The guardsmen handed over the parchment that Sunny had originally given them to a strong-built man with tanned skin on the door, who in turn, nodded and let out an inaudible reply. Satisfied, the guardsmen went back to his original post. 

"Princess Dawn awaits." He barked, before turning to get the door. 

Bog took one last look at Muuh, who returned his gaze. It was not often he could read her expression, but he understood what this one meant: 

I am ready. 

*** 

Dawn found herself sitting and gazing out at the sky more and more with each passing day. She longed to be like the creatures she watched that soared through clouds, be that bats, birds or insects. 

She felt envious of their freedom to come and go as they wished, to speak for themselves and no one else. To not be in an engagement with someone they did not love. 

With a reluctant sigh, Dawn closed the window, bringing the glass panes together and latching them shut. As she made her way across the room, she could hear the faint mumbling of manic voices rising up from behind her door. 

"It is urgent... the Princess... I have... message." 

Intrigued, Dawn crept closer, putting her ear to the door and straining to hear. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop butting your nose in boy!" 

"Lizzie, please, I just need to speak with her for a moment-" 

"She is engaged, it is my job to keep her on the straight and narrow and most importantly safe! That means telling you to leave!" 

"It is just a message!" 

"No! How many times do-" 

Dawn unlocked the door and stuck her head out innocently, Lizzie's voice was unmistakably hers, but the other had been so heavy and out of breath, she had not recognised it. Her stomach churned when she saw it was the man who would always have her heart.

"Sunny?" Dawn managed to say. 

"Please Dawn, this is urgent-" 

"Princess to you boy!" Lizzie huffed, but Dawn placed a hand gently on her handmaiden's arm to show her it was alright. 

"Tell me Sunny, what is so urgent?"  

"He found her!" Sunny blurted, unable to keep a straight face. "He actually found her!" 

Dawn's heart missed a beat and for a split moment, she forgot how to breathe, as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs. 

"Do you mean-?" 

"I do, and they are on their way to castle right now. They need access to see you."  

"I..I.." Dawn could feel herself becoming overwhelmed, "Lizzie, get visitor papers immediately and alert Pare that I will be needing him within a moment's notice." 

With a cautious look between the pale Princess and her fellow servant, Lizzie made haste down a nearby corridor. 

Sunny was also about to leave, but Dawn managed to grab onto his arm. She forgot how his skin felt under her fingertips and how warm he always seemed to be. At her touch, Sunny froze, as if paralysed by the same unseen magic she was. 

"Did you see her?" Dawn whispered.

"I did." 

"Does she-?" 

Sunny took a step closer, his face was not far from hers. Wave after wave of emotion kept crashing in her chest, she feared that she might lose balance in her legs.  

"I had thousands of questions too, but wait, she will be here soon enough." Sunny's hand was now resting on top of hers. 

"You sought the bounty hunter out on your own, didn't you?"  

"I did." Sunny admitted guiltily. "You know what I was trying to achieve, but at least this way, whatever happens, you will be happy." 

She wished at that moment she was not a Princess, but just a mere girl, for then, she thought, all these hardships, terrors and laws would not rule over her. 

Unable to say what she wanted, Dawn was grateful when Lizzie returned, holding the papers and eyeing the contact between the pair with annoyance. Sunny reluctantly freed himself, letting go of her hand and dropping his arm so that Dawn could sign her name on the parchment as authorisation. 

"Take these to them and tell them to meet with me in the lower quarter hall on the ground floor. I will be there on arrival and dismiss all guards excluding your father, I trust him alone not to spread any rumours... especially with certain... events so near." 

"Understood." Sunny replied with a nod, taking the scroll from Dawn's hand. Their fingers brushed for a split moment and the similar buzz of warmth circulated throughout her body. As Sunny departed back down the corridor, Dawn felt overcome with nausea. 

"Princess, you look deathly pale." Lizzie exclaimed worryingly, placing the back of her hand against the royal's forehead, an act she could not have done unless alone.

"You understand what is about to happen, you understand who I meant?" 

"I do child, I just hope you know what you are doing and don't cause more heartache for yourself. Come, you should sit for a moment." 

"I cannot Lizzie-" 

"Stubborn as anything." The handmaiden muttered with a sigh, "well, at least let me take you down to the hall. Then I'll go back to-" 

"No, you'll stay." 

"Stay?" 

"You loved her too Lizzie." 

With a mellow look in her eyes, Lizzie smiled. "That I did child, that I did." 

It did not take them long to reach the hall, of which was thankfully already empty. The Princess fumbled with her dress while she waited, it was a habit she had done ever since she was a small child. Nausea continually threatened to rise up and Dawn could feel her stomach tighten and contract. 

All these years, all for this moment. 

She was ready. 

*** 

Muuh could feel the rhythmic thumping of her heart quicken in her chest as the doors were opened. 

It was the same feeling she had when she climbed through the forest trees, the untamed wind flying past her as she scurried through twisted, overgrown branches. 

She missed that feeling as well as home. While at Bog's retreat, her mind wandered to what would happen if she failed in her mission. To how Plume would be angered at the loss of a child that was never hers, the cry of the forest as unknown men cut through its thicket and the screams of Fae that would turn Nemus' pool a deep crimson.  

Failure was not an option, no matter the consequences. 

The armoured man went first, then Bog and Muuh close behind. Although she looked like them, she could not have felt more different. Griselda had removed every trace of the forest from her appearance, but not her heart or mind.  

Their homes felt fake as if they should have left the trees which once grew where stone now lay. The space in which she now stood, felt cold and empty aside from the two people who stared at her. 

An older, plump woman wearing similar fabrics to hers, stood beside a petite, fair-haired girl. Both their eyes were locked onto her, as if she was an apparition and would fade if they blinked. 

Muuh concluded that the one in the ceremonious clothing was the Princess, given Griselda's ramblings of gowns and jewels. 

No one moved, no one spoke. Muuh could feel the air change slightly, and she knew that was because Bog had turned to look at her.  

"Guards you are dismissed." The young woman said, her voice a near tremble, and all guards left bar the armoured one who had grunted at their arrival.

Now that fewer of them remained, Bog took it upon himself to speak.  

"Your Highness, I did as instructed and ventured to where the incident took place all those years ago, it was there-" 

The Princess took a step forward towards Muuh and raised her hands, the act silencing Bog.

Muuh froze, her hand edging towards the dagger she had concealed on her person, but thankfully no one saw the action and the Princess' hands cupped Muuh's face. 

Warmth echoed from her palms, and Muuh found herself looking down into large, blue eyes. 

B lue... eyes...  

"Do you know who I am?" The fair-haired asked, her face not hiding her emotions at all. 

Muuh managed a slight nod, though she was too fixated on the shimmering blue of her eyes, there was something there, in her memory, but it felt out of reach.  

"What happened that night?" She asked, a simple question but one Muuh did not know how to answer.

Muuh began to panic, she had not realised interrogation would become a part of this. From the corner of her eye, she saw Bog take a step forward, but the armoured man stopped him with his palm. 

"What happened?" The princess asked again, something sounding like anger rising in her voice at the lack of response.

But Muuh could not think of an answer, she could not think of anything except the colour of the Princess' eyes. They felt familiar, but how? The Fae had eyes the colour of blood, Bog's eyes were blue, but they were like crystal not - 

"This is not her." The Princess exclaimed, shattering Muuh's thought process. She dropped her hands away from Muuh's cheeks, the abruptness of warmth almost enough to make Muuh shiver.

"Pare," She called, her voice cracking with emotions. "Get them out of my sight." 

"Your majesty-" Bog grunted, taking a step forward in protest only to be stopped once again by the armoured man.

"I'd watch your tongue and actions, Bounty Hunter, if I were yo-" 

"River." Muuh whispered. 

"Say that again." The Princess asked over her shoulder, the anger still blatant and burning in her voice.

"The river, there was a river." 

"A river the night of the-" But the Princess was cut short by the less-well-dressed woman who placed a reassuring hand on the young girl's arm.  

"Forgive me for interrupting your highness, but I think I know what she means." The woman took a step closer to Muuh, "tell me about this river." 

Muuh kept her gaze on the Princess, the blue of her eyes uplifting a lodged fog that had settled long ago. 

Her head began to ache, but she could remember something, an image coming into focus.

"The water, was moving, but not dangerously. A little girl was scared, scared of the water. I lifted her in-" While Muuh spoke, the Princess edged slowly forward, listening to every syllable that came from Muuh's lips. 

"Do you remember anything else?" The older woman encouraged, her voice a husk in the now silent room.  

"A stone... that shimmered in my hand, it... it was a gift?" Muuh managed to say, she blinked and felt the fog thicken once more, the pain in her head subsiding for now. 

"It... is you. It IS you." The Princess threw herself at Muuh, her arms wrapping tightly around her in a strong embrace. Within moments, Muuh could feel tears soak the shoulder of the dress Griselda had gifted her. The older woman had her hand to her mouth, but even that could not cease the emotive sounds she was creating.  

"No one else could have known that, no one knew of the stream. It was our place, and our place alone." The Princess explained, tears delicately rolling down her cheeks, she released her grip but held onto Muuh's arms. "And the stone, I- I cannot believe- but what happened that night? Or.... do you not remember?"

"I- I do not." 

The Princess softly caressed Muuh's face, her fingers gently falling onto the scars that made up her complexion. 

"I must tell father that you have returned." 

"What of Lord Highworth your majesty?" The single guard asked, still keeping an eye on Bog and his movements.  

A small sigh escaped the Princess' lips, "He will be with father no doubt, but this is to remain quiet. I trust you all in this room to not let any of this be known to the public for now." The princess gazed once again into Muuh's eyes, "They feared you were dead Marianne, and for a long time I struggled with lost hope too. I do not want you overwhelmed, so this will be kept a secret for now." 

"Shall I send for the King then your highness?" The guard inquired. 

"No, I shall go and speak with him, privacy is what is needed. For now, we need a room set up for Marianne, perhaps her old room can provoke some memories? Lizzie, would you-" 

"Of course, your highness." 

"As for you Bounty Hunter, I apologise for the lack of trust. I feared that perhaps my despair had finally got the best of me. You have given me the greatest gift, for that, you have my gratitude as well as what you were promised, what we agreed upon will be sent to your homestead tomorrow. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done." 

"He is leaving?" Muuh almost cried, breaking her contact with the young woman and turning to Bog.  

"I cannot let him stay, having him in the castle already has the potential to cause a great deal of concern and ruckus. As much as I wish I did not have to keep up appearances, that is my role. Ours, now, I suspect." 

"Then I shall say my goodbyes." Bog said before embracing Muuh tightly. 

The sudden rush of affection had not been something she had expected, especially from someone who shared a similar understanding of the harshness of life's realities. She felt Bog's mouth near her ear first, then the warmth of his breath as it hit her on the neck.

"This is the only way to get to the King, you must not let them know who you really are. Seek him out, do what needs to be done. Do not fret, I will return soon. I made a promise to the Fae and most importantly - you."

Chapter Text

With a sense of urgency in every stride, Dawn briskly made her way towards her father's study.

It was where she believed the King would most likely be, as he spent many hours locked away in that room - wasting away. 

As she navigated through the labyrinth of intertwining hallways, she went over in her mind of how she would tell him this wonderful news, but she wondered, deep down, if it would just make the wound he harboured worse. 

Death and loss, changes you, Dawn knew that, but her father lost his mind when news of the murders came to his door. He was once a peaceful man, but she could never forget the rage in his eyes as he sent out guard after guard in order to find what had transpired.  

By the time the funeral was held, her father was gone. A wisp of his former self, a mere ghost of the man he once was. 

Dawn felt like she had lost all her family, and yet she felt she could not grieve. Since her birth, thousands of eyes had been fixated on her, on her every movement and action. She had to be strong not only for herself but for her people, who needed her. 

While retracting and outlining scenario after scenario in her head, Dawn wondered what was going through Marianne's mind, after all, the years had clearly changed her.

Dawn rasped her knuckles in quick succession on the proud oak door that lead to her father's retreat, this was where he now spent most of his days while others took advantage of him.  

A weak, yet familiar voice called for her to come in, and when she did so, her father's head rose up from behind his desk, arms on the tabletop with fingers interlocking one another.  

In her nervous yet excited state, Dawn could not resist letting the words fall out of her mouth. 

"Father, I have incredible news that will-" 

She stopped short when she realised that two more figures graced the room, Roland and his lurking advisor Sciurus. 

"Do not stop on our account, your highness." Sciurus encouraged, his mouth twisting upwards at the corners. The shadows cast by his overhanging hood made her all the more uncomfortable.

"Apologises. I thought my father was alone."  

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" The king pressed, the numbness in his eyes growing dimmer looking even dimmer than yesterday.  

"It can wait, father, I would rather tell you in private-" 

"Nonsense." The king dismissed passively with a faint wave of his hand, "no secrets shall be kept between you and your future husband." 

Dawn's stomach turned, she had been avoiding Roland more than she had done as a child, as the sheer reality of the situation made her feel more unease than she thought bearable. 

"Tell me, child, otherwise you may go – there is much to be planned for the official announcement." 

"Though natural," Roland smirked, "everyone in Fairon and the neighbouring kingdoms already know." 

Dawn knew from experience that an official announcement did not take the rigorous planning her father would have her believe, they merely gave him feeble tasks to keep the King a pleased figurehead, Roland and Sciurus had been gradually getting more power over the last ten years than she cared to admit. 

But it was the dismissal, which had happened to the Princess more times than she could count, that infuriated her. They claimed she was inexperienced due to age or that she had more important tasks such as dress-rehearsals to attend. Time and time again she had proven her capability and yet she was always pushed aside. 

Without thinking, Dawn blurted out her news.

"Marianne has been found." 

Three pairs of eyes fell on her, after a brief pause of confused silence, Sciurus spoke. 

"What... did you say?" 

"My sister, Marianne, has been found. She-" 

"Enough!" Roared the King, who rose to his feet as his fists slammed down onto the table, causing Roland to startle."They are not coming back; do you understand me, girl? Whoever you speak of is an imposter who merely wishes to use us-" 

"Father it is her, she knew-" 

"Do not interrupt me! I am your father and your King." 

Dawn went to speak again, but her voice caught in her throat. Her father had not shown this much emotion in years, but when he did – it was to shout at her, degrade her further and refuse to listen.  

"Leave now and speak no more word of this." Was the King's final demand as Sciurus ushered her out of the room and closed the door on her. 

"She is an overwhelmed young woman sire, pre-wedding jitters most likely." Dawn heard Sciurus say from behind the now-locked door. "Perhaps it would be best if Lord Highworth spoke privately with her, while I investigate this... alleged return." 

In frustration and near tears, Dawn made her way back up to her quarters, in hopes to find her sister and handmaiden, before her betrothed and his unsettling adviser did.  

*** 


 

Dawn found Marianne and Lizzie together in her chambers, her handmaiden was in the process of brushing her sister's hair, which was much shorter than she remembered. 

It was jagged too as if the strands were hacked repeatedly with a rusty knife.

Seeing this, and other small details such as the deep scars that lined her face, it made Dawn ponder what had really happened during those lost years, and just who was her sister now.

There were still questions that needed to be asked and answered, but for now, those would have to wait. The possibility of Sciurus throwing Marianne out of the castle and onto the streets was too high, or worse, the dungeon. 

Upon entering, the pair looked up and Lizzie, who had grown to be able to read the Princess so well, caught onto her emotive state straight away. 

"What is the matter, dearie?" She cooed, placing the brush she had been using on Dawn's vanity. 

"They would not listen to me, now they believe if I do harbour someone, it is a fraud. Sciurus and Roland are not far behind me and I fear what they will do if they catch Marianne." 

"Too lost in his own grief." Lizzie muttered, shaking her head. "There has to be something that can be done." 

"I am all out of ideas." Dawn deflated, feeling the return of nausea.  

Getting up from the chair silently, her sister came forward.

"I have one." She declared, "that could work." 

*** 

Each time the Princess called her 'sister' or 'Marianne', Muuh felt conflicted.  

Now, to make matters worse, people were beginning to believe she was a fraud, which she was. She was not the Crown Princess of Fairon, but a warrior of the Forest – but for now she had to act as a deceased noble. Bog had put her in this position, and for the most part, she trusted him about this choice, as he had saved her life. 

But the resentment for humans was something embedded deep within her, it had crossed her mind that Bog may have saved her life, but that would have made them equal. Leaving her here, in this castle with a young girl who believed her to be something she was not, was cruel for them both – although necessary for the goal.  

If Bog failed to return and once Muuh could cease the exploration and destruction of the forest by discussion alone, if words were even enough, what would she do then? How would she be able to leave? If they followed her, they could trace her back into the forest. This plan felt grim. 

Muuh accepted the thought that maybe she could never return home, that she would have to keep up a lie in order for the Fae to live. Although she would be mourned, the heartache she felt was outweighed by the satisfaction of knowing her people would survive.  

For now, her main concern was avoiding a man known as Sciurus as she navigated the castle halls. When Princess Dawn had shown her concern, Muuh thought that it was a perfect opportunity to speak to the King first hand.  

She persuaded the Princess to speak with the young man who was to accompany Sciurus, distract him if needed. However, a series of knocks on the door came quicker than expected, which prompted the Princess to push Muuh into a tall, wooden box, filled with similar materials and fabrics like the one Dawn was wearing.

Muuh listened tentatively at the arrival of a brisk young voice along with a sinister one, where each word sounded coated with poison.  

"Roland?" Dawn said in feigned surprise. "Why are you here?"  

"How could I not be after seeing you earlier, and the announcement you made, it is clear you are hysterical."  

From the small gap, Muuh could make out the Princess' clenched fists, hidden from view by the ruffles of her gown. It was obvious that there was no spark between them, not like Muuh and - 

"Hysterical?" The woman said, managing to keep her voice level. "No, but I wish to discuss this matter further with you, in private." 

A cold voice, low and gravely spoke, "Given how you acted your highness, this matter should be dropped." 

Muuh noted how the woman's body language changed, an air of confidence to it. "I understand Sciurus, but I wish to talk about that issue minutely, the wedding is my main course for concern."  

By shifting slightly, Muuh could see the surprise register on the young man's face. While the other, who wore a heavy hood, also seemed taken aback. 

"The wedding?" The one named Roland repeated, his green eyes bulging. "You seemed so distant, I-" 

"Understandably, there has been a lot on my mind. But the time spent alone has allowed me to think, now, may we walk and discuss?" With ease and grace, the Princess manoeuvred past the two men and persuaded Roland to follow her. That only left Sciurus, who made Muuh's hair stand on edge. 

He stood still in the doorframe and scanned the room, like a predator sensing that a wounded prey was nearby. Lizzie stood her ground and refused to let him intimidate her, Muuh had not thought much of the handmaiden at first, but the older woman had a strong will and a stronger heart.  

"Looking for something?" She sarcastically questioned. 

The tall, cloaked man huffed. "You should be with them, it is not proper for them to be alone prior to the wedding."  

"Well, let us take our leave so I can lock this room." Lizzie announced sternly, walking directly in line of the crack Muuh was spying out of. With a frank gesture indicating he should leave, the cloaked man exited the room, before Lizzie left, she placed a small key on an oak table by the door.  

Muuh waited in the safety of the cramped, wooden box as their footsteps receded into nothingness before setting the plan in motion. Lizzie had announced before the arrival of the pair that she had two keys, both of which she kept on her person as she felt the Princess had enough to deal with, without worrying over the location of a small key. While Lizzie had locked the door upon leaving with the cloaked man, Muuh unlocked it again with ease with the key provided. Once in the hall, she relocked the door which took a few twists and thrusts as the concept was still relatively new to her.  

The women warned Muuh that Sciurus had eyes everywhere, hence why he knew everyone's business and secrets. Thankfully, in the way that she was dressed, Muuh could pass as a servant, as long as she kept her head down and did not make eye contact.  

The Princess and her handmaiden were not to know that stealth was part of the survival Muuh had been taught throughout her life. 

With only a brief understanding of where the King would most likely be, Muuh navigated through the halls. The sun was setting and the corridors grew darker, which Muuh used to her advantage. She stuck to the walls, using the shadows as her cover, stepping quickly through the sliver of dying sunlight that flooded the floor each time she passed a window. 

But soon, she came to realise that she was lost within the stone labyrinth. Frustrated at a potential defeat, Muuh wandered on until she saw a lone man, looking out on an open balcony, the new moon's light defined the wrinkles on his face as well as the aged skin exposed by the rolled-up sleeves on his arms.  

Reminded that she was to keep her head down and not make eye contact, Muuh pushed on, but the man spotted her and for a moment looked like a startled rabbit before shot with an arrow. 

"Are you lost, child?" The aged man inquired. 

Wearing a false grin but keeping her eyes down to the floor, Muuh responded.

"I am in search of the King." She answered truthfully. 

In the gloom it appeared as if the elder man's eyes widened.  

"The King?" He responded, almost with a soft chuckle. "A smart man would be winding down for sleep at this hour." 

Muuh did not say anything in response, and so the man continued. 

"May I ask, why you are looking for him?" 

"I-" Muuh began and then stopped herself short, she was not to know if this stranger could be trusted, so a lie would have to be weaved in order for this to work. "I have a message for him, from his daughter." 

"Which one?" 

Muuh frowned, she clearly recalled the princess stating that no one was to know of her return as of yet and everyone else was said to believe that the role she was playing, Princess Marianne, was dead anyway. 

"From your response I take it you may be aware of the rumours, no secrets can be kept within these walls I am afraid." The man jested in a tired voice.

"You believe she is not dead?" 

"In truth, I do not know what to believe. The logic speaks of it as a farce, but maybe, just maybe, deep down..." 

"We hope it to be true. We always hold onto something that is out of our reach because we have faith in it." 

"You speak of loss well child." 

"Loss is all over no matter where you look, it is common." 

"Yes, that is true and I have known loss I fear no one else may understand." 

"Many people hide it, some well, others not so." Muuh stated, frustrated that the conversation had shifted in topic and gone on for as long as it had.

The man nodded, carefully listening. "Now, what was this message from the Princess?" 

"It is for the King's ears only." 

"Ah, I understand. Seek him out tomorrow morn would be a wise choice, I heard that the King gets distracted by the moon at night." 

"Thank you," Muuh said, looking up and turning to go, but the man lunged forward, clasping his withered hand on her arm. Muuh went to prise it off by any means necessary when he let go. 

In the split-second struggle, Muuh had been pulled onto the balcony, the full strength of the moon illuminating both the ground and her. 

'I heard that the King gets distracted by the moon at night.' Muuh thought to herself as she silently watched the man stare at her. A shimmer of a single tear fell from his tired eyes and rolled down one of his aged cheeks.

"Dawn was only a child when it happened," the man said, his breathing catching on his words, "But I spent years with my wife and daughter, only to have them taken from me. When my wife's body was laid in front of me, the last thing I did was close her eyes, those dead eyes that I still see when I close my own. Soldiers never found my daughter or any trace of her body. Instead, people clung to the false hope she was alive, but I went out there myself and I was greeted with a massacre. There was so much blood that the earth was sodden and I knew that blood had once been the life source of my precious child and wife. There was no way my little girl survived such onslaught. 

I swore that if anyone claimed to be my lost daughter, I would know, because no one had eyes like she did, except her mother who gifted them to her. Yet you, have those eyes, her eyes - my Marianne's." 

Muuh reached up and lightly touched the side of her face, her finger brushing her eyelashes delicately. 

She knew that she was different from the other Fae, Muuh could recall their whispers carried on the winds of how she was not the same. How her skin was pale and how her eyes were not red, but amber. 

Muuh wanted to remember, to disperse the fog that settled in the back of her mind. A sharp pain rippled through her skull as she tried to recall her memories. The fog, thick and deep refused her, but she persisted.

She needed to remember, wanted to remember. 

The pain worsened, and as if watching her memories occur in reverse, Muuh focused in on the first memory she could see clearly, one she had long-since forgotten:

Blackness. 

It was everywhere, as if it filled not only her head, but her body, twisting her bones hard enough so that they cracked. Filling up her lungs so she could hardly breathe. 

There was a distant voice, soft and powerful like a prayer that repeated and repeated itself. 

She recalled the feeling of lightness as if the blackness had finally tortured her enough and now she was free, but the rhythmic and rushed knocks made the pain worsen. She could feel the air on her face, smacking her hard. 

Then the air stopped and the pain subsided and she could feel her body being lowered. The wet sensation hit her neck first, but before the rest of her body registered this, she was floating down and down and down.  

The blackness squeezed hard at her lungs, but she did not fight for air, as if she had forgotten all together how to do that. Her body began to feel light once more, and the faint prayer grew distant with each passing second.  

But there was something else drowning out the prayer now, a louder voice that could not be defined. It spoke in a language she could not understand, be that because the blackness wrapped tightly around her head, holding onto her, refusing to release her from its smothering grip.  

The voice grew louder still, bringing with it a warmth that radiated and shrunk the blackness. It caused the pain to grow weak, made the heaviness drift away. She reached up, wanting to touch this new warmth. When she did, her eyes shot open. 

She coughed and spluttered, her chest burning.  

Blinking in between coughs, she saw how close she was to the water's edge and the strange figure that sat beside to her. 

The transparent skin, bluish in tone, did not alarm her, nor the eyes that were a deep red.  

"You are alive." The woman said, "the forest has saved you." 

She wanted to speak but an unbearable pain ran through her. 

"You smelt of death, but still breathing." The woman put a hand to her chest, splaying her fingers as a form of introduction."Plume."  

Her vocal chords felt weak as she pushed air from her lungs, attempting to make a sound. 

Her name... what was her name? 

It edged on her tongue, but when she tried to remember, a fog came in, covering everything. She desperately tried to hang on to her name. 

She grumbled, finally managing to speak. 

"M..." 

The woman came close, holding her head and lowering her to the ground. 

" M..  Ma... M..." 

" Muuh ?" The woman repeated. 

'Muuh', she thought before she lost consciousness, yes... yes that was her name. 

When Muuh shook off the memory, she found the man holding her in an embrace that seemed to take most of his strength. 

The Princess' hold had echoed warmth and joy, yet all Muuh could feel from this man was sorrow.

Silently he continued to weep, refusing to let Muuh go.

Feeling something cold trickle down onto her upper lip, Muuh lifted up her hand and wiped it away, shocked to see her fingers streaked with scarlet blood. 

The pain she had felt before was now greatly reduced, but Muuh wondered if the attempt to remember who she was, was causing her more harm than good.

While tears soaked her hair, Muuh returned the embrace, grateful that this encounter had helped her remember something which once lay under a blanket of fog.

Together they stood there, underneath the moonlight as if they were statues, dealing with emotions neither one knew how to control. 

It would not be until the following morning that the King would reflect back on being reunited with his lost daughter, on how he had dismissed her as a servant who had not recognised him as he stood looking out at the distant moon, praying to some unknown god to keep the horrors at bay while he slept and to keep his surviving daughter safe from fraudsters. 

He was set to make an announcement about the union between his youngest and Lord Highworth, but he had another announcement to make; that the Crown Princess, the Lost Princess, Marianne of Fairon, had returned. 

Chapter Text

The streets of Fairon were as busy as they had ever been. 

People thrusting themselves from place to place, careless if they knocked into one another in their rush. Day old fruit toppled from stands, which caused aggressive owners to add to the yelling of the crowd.  

The smell was overpowering too, there were puddles sat in the aged potholes, manure worked into the stone's grooves by thousands of trampling feet as well as other sharp fragrances that stung the nostrils. 

The closer Bog got to the castle, however, the more the atmosphere changed. It was obvious to see the class divide. For one, the inner circles of the kingdom's centre, where the castle was situated, was less populated. Beggars were both dismissed and moved on by guards if spotted, traders who worked with finer silks and exotic materials were the only ones with stalls in these districts. The fashion changed too, gone were rags or aged dresses with stains worn into the cloth now replaced with said finer silks. 

Bog knew these streets so well. His time as a guard had allowed him to memorise every nook and cranny of Fairon, he knew the best places to drink, best places to eat and even to hide.  

Since leaving Muuh with the princess, he felt as if his sense of purpose had been lost. He was not the type of man to simply sit around and do nothing, Bog fondly remembered his father saying to him as a boy that he was a fidget and an energetic one at that.  

Muuh had been stationed at the castle, Dawn seeming to accept her with open arms. But would the King? He was more fragile, as if he was observing the world rather than being in it.  

During his time as a King's guardsman, he had rarely seen the man whom he was serving. Through all of his service, Bog could count the royal encounters on a single hand. Once was the day he was sworn in, a short while before the tragedy struck the kingdom. Bog had stood proudly in his uniform, determined to make a change. As he stood there, among rows and rows of young men like him, he could make out his parent's faces in the crowd, his mother's grin yelling how proud she was of him.  

After the tragedy, no one really saw the King. Not even the guards who had received word that the Queen and Princess had not arrived at their destination but only a few of the royal horses and followed suit, the same guards who discovered the murder scene.  

News of the murders quickly made its way through the ranks, Bog remembered overhearing it. He was only a boy himself, just turned sixteen, and the thought of it had turned his stomach. 

He was no stranger to gore. Growing up his father had taught him to hunt, how to catch, kill, skin and eat a rabbit and deer. His father had taught him many crucial lessons, the skills of which he would take with him into his future careers, the most important one being to respect nature, for you no not what power she holds.  

A year would pass before he saw the King again. Bog was regularly stationed within the city but took advantages of his patrols just outside the border, it was here he found the shack. Being a King's guard meant you had the opportunity to stay within castle grounds, but the prospect of a little sanctuary; silence and privacy was tempting. The process of obtaining the run-down house was simple enough, but he needed clearance from his commanding officer; Captain Daymond.  

Captain Daymond had been somewhat likeable at the start of Bog's service, while a lot of the new recruits had looked up to him as a glorified idol, Bog, however, could not warm to him. He felt like the Captain had only gained the position due to being buddy-buddy with Lord Highworth's advisor, a tall man who stalked through the ranks, shadows cast over his face, his eyes scanning each one of the guardsmen as they stood on parade. Bog's dislike for the pair grew more when he requested to move out of the city.  

Requesting to move from the castle, if you were a guardsman, required three signatures. One of the commanding officer and a witness, the third being the King.  

Bog clutched at the parchment as he waited to be called into Captain Daymond's office, hopeful for this new-found freedom, he had missed the peaceful mornings of a distant quiet place he recalled from faint childhood memories and wished to relive them once more. 

"Enter." Bellowed a gruff voice, and promptly Bog entered, saluting before handing over the parchment. 

Daymond took it and scanned the initial contents.  

"A move?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow as he did so. "Whatever for?"  

"Sirs," Bog began, gesturing to the officer and the cloaked man, "Your Highness," he said to the King, who might have as well not been there, his thoughts clearly miles away. "I want to settle just outside the Kingdom, the area is tranquil and-" 

"Settle?" Daymond questioned, lowering the parchment that he had held out in front of him. "You starting a family soldier, got a girl knocked up?"  

"No Sir." Bog defended, almost hurt at the accusation. More hurt for the fact there would never be a girl. "The home would just be for myself."  

The Captain eyed him, licked his bottom lip and stated he was not surprised. Bog dismissed the insult of his features, as much as it angered him, he was angered more by the fact he could do nothing in retaliation. 

"Where is this settlement?" Inquired the cloaked man, clearly bored of the meeting already.  

"It is a shack, south-east of the city wall-" 

"A shack?" Daymond interrupted, "You are leaving here to go live in a shack?" Before Bog could say his piece, Daymond continued. "You've finally managed to better yourself, get a leg up out of the gutter away from the pigs and you decide you want to go back and wallow with them? Shacks belong to those wastes of space who beg in the street, someone within the King's Guard should be proud they live within the castle walls-" 

"Daymond." The advisor to the young lord inputted, "I have much more pressing issues to deal with than this mere ruckus, sign for the boy's shack so I may leave."  

With a humph, Daymond did as he was told, as was the King, who when instructed by the cloaked man limply wrote his name, his eyes glassed over.  

It frightened Bog how much the King had changed from the joyous man who had told the crowd how he was proud of his kingdom and the fine men it was producing. From that point onwards, things were only going to get worse.  

A few weeks after obtaining a licence for the shack, a riot broke out. Bog never knew what the start of the chaos was, but he guessed it was to do with how the rich lived in their fantasy land while poorer souls lived a doomed existence. He was sent along with his squad to calm down rioters, but quickly the guardsmen were dispersed, swallowed up by the roaring crowd.  

Innocents were swept up in the mayhem; Bog managed to receive a small child before they were trampled and handed it back to the crying mother, telling them to leave and reach somewhere safe as quickly as possible. From across the large mob he was currently dealing with, he could see a fellow guard, yelling at protestors and holding out his weapon – a largely detailed spear, the tip curled upwards for potential dramatic effect, the crowd easily overpowered him.  

Bog's spear was still strapped to his back, secured in place with a sturdy leather strip, as he manoeuvred through the crowd, he could feel hands grabbing at his torso, trying to pry it from him. Bog was inches from where the other guard had once stood when he heard his name being yelled. It was a single voice, a familiar voice amongst the sea of aggression that he was currently faced with.  

He turned, forcing his body to follow his head as people slammed against him. He could see his father's eyes, brimming with terror. Without hesitation, Bog pushed towards the two pools of blue, bobbing manically in the sea of violence. When he reached him, Bog wrapped an arm around and pulled him out the other side of the mob, once free they both started sprinting until they reached a safe distance.  

At that point a large horn was sounded, and Bog knew that meant reinforcements, the rest of the guardsmen were being sent out, there was no way the mob could withstand them. 

"Is mother with you?" Bog panted, as he pulled himself upright. 

His father shook his head as he inhaled for air, "She's safe, I got caught up- I- I-" His voice caught and Bog realised at that moment that never before had he seen his father afraid, it unnerved him.  

"Come on," Bog said, helping his father get his breath back, "You need to go." 

"You cannot stay here Bogaerd, these people will kill you."  

"It is my job and my duty to-" Bog was cut short when someone crashed something against his father's head, the shatters showering around him as his father crumpled to the floor, the stranger beginning to stomp on his head.  

"THAT IS WHERE FILTH LIKE YOU BELONG, IN THE GROUND." Roared the stranger. Bog lunged, forcing his weight onto the man who had attacked them so that they both fell with a deafening thud to the floor. Bog's fists collided with the man's face, continually pounding again and again. He heard something snap, perhaps the man's nose – but Bog didn't care. The blood stained his knuckles and still, he kept punching. 

"Stop... Bog.... please... stop..."  

His father's weak voice was enough to pull him back to reality, the man's face was disfigured with bruises, breaks and blood.  

"Bog..."  

Rushing over, Bog cradled his father, the shards of glass had sliced open his skin, he was losing so much blood.  

"Hang on, just hang on." Bog cried out, ignoring the tears that now started to splash down his cheeks. He reached up in an attempt to rip off a sleeve of his uniform to use it as a makeshift bandage, but he felt a weak grip instead. 

"It is my time." 

"No! No, no it is not! Do not say that." Bog pressed his hand to the wound, but his father's grip remained limp. 

"It will be alright my son, I am just returning to the earth from where I came." 

"Don't... Don't go..." Bog whimpered in a hoarse whisper. 

"We are... never truly gone." And with that, his limp hand fell lifeless. 

High ranking Guardsmen had found Bog, crumped over a dead body, tears long since dried up, along with the blood belonging to the unknown man that lay beside him.  

The stranger's body was taken to a nearby medical location set up for those injured within the riot, while Bog's father's body was cremated. His mother stood beside him as they scattered the ashes to the winds, the breeze sending Bog's father remains soaring through the air.

While he was checked over for injuries and deemed medically fit, Bog did not feel it. The loss of his father proved to affect him in more ways than one and it made work unmanageable. He knew that this behaviour would soon lead to expulsion, but none of that seemed to matter anymore.  

He was barely eating or sleeping, spending his waking hours alone and awake in the shack, his mind constantly replaying those final moments.  

His mother continually told him to not blame himself. 

Bog didn't. 

He blamed the stranger, the man who attacked his father unprovoked. 

Trials were held by elite guards and Captain Daymond in order to find the root cause of the mayhem. Bog stood by for a few, he was there simply as a reinforcement if the trial went askew. Bog was lost in his own thoughts when a familiar face came to the stand.  

Though his nose was bandaged, the stranger's face was a dark purple, with tinges of yellow and green beginning to peek under the wraps.  

Bog believed that he had lost him, that the man, like thousands of other vicious citizens, had slipped below the radar and would never be brought to justice. 

Yet here he stood, on trial. 

Bog could finally see this man go down in flames for the crime he- 

"Pardoned - No crime committed." The captain announced without a care.  

Without thinking his actions over, Bog stepped out of formation and roared at the captain.  

"Why?!"  

Daymond raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "are you addressing me, guardsman?" 

Bog ignored him and repeated his question. "Why?! Why did you let him go without even questioning him?!" 

"A nobleman would never dare commit such a crime, let alone be involved in one, he was just found in the area, clearly the poor lad was caught up in this horrendous mess." 

"You... You are letting him go because he is rich?!" Bog seethed through his teeth. 

"I am letting him go as he is noble and I have already told you my reasoning not that I need to explain myself to you. Now, fall back in line or I will have you court-martialled." 

Bog did not fall back in line, nor was he court-martialled. He simply left the trial ground, left the castle and kept walking.  

When he got to the shack, he found his mother by the hearth, she was trying to start up the fire, but it seemed she was low on burning materials. 

"Bog! You're home-" She stopped when she noticed the look on her son's face. "What happened...?" 

Without speaking a word Bog pulled off his uniform and threw it into the embers. The flames chewed greedily on the fabric. Ignoring his mother's protests Bog left the shack, standing outside in only a thin undershirt and trousers. The breeze was bitterly cold, biting at his bare arms. 

What he had witnessed today was disgusting and he was not going to be a part of a regime that treated people so poorly. He would not sit idly by any longer. If there was one thing his father had taught him well, it was how to be a hunter. 

A year or two into his new occupation, a hit was placed on the same man who had killed his father. Justice was both swift and sweet.

Bog let his mind wander back to Muuh, the concern he felt for her was both foreign yet familiar. Since he had left her at the castle, he had become unnerved and he could not work out the reason why.  

He stood now, near enough to the castle as he could without drawing too much attention. When he decided that he could not sit around and do nothing, he instead decided to make a patrol route, just in case Muuh needed him. This was the twelfth time he had reached this specific spot in his looping path.

Not that he expected Muuh would need his assistance, she had shown herself to be strong, smart, quick-witted and capable. Fairon, however, was a completely different environment compared to the forest – how would she fare within these city walls? 

Bog was jogged from his confusing thoughts and feelings when a bundle of excited girls ran past him, their hair loosely tied in braids and pinafores secured in tight bows. 

"Is this about the engagement?!" One cried. 

"Hurry or we will miss it!" Another one exclaimed. 

Bog turned to see them go and noticed a large crowd beginning to form up ahead. He waited a moment and then followed in the direction the girls had run, milling into the dense crowd and putting his hood up.  

A makeshift platform was raised, wood by design with a singular podium in the centre. Surrounding the platform were guardsmen in their best dress, their so-called weapons gleamed to perfection. 

The crowd was growing restless, their inner-mumblings creating a wave of speculation as to what this was all about. It was rare to have announcements, Bog could not actually recall when one like this was last held.  

Was this, Bog thought to himself, because of Muuh? 

An elected official of the royal court stepped onto the platform, dressed in a tailored tunic with a regal robe to match. The man was short and sported a trim beard, and as he pulled out a scroll from his person, Bog could hear him clear his throat.  

"Citizens of Fairon!" The man began with a bellow, causing more to join the ever-growing crowd. "We have asked you to gather here today as the Royal Family have an important announcement to make; Without further ado; I present your King, ruler of our kingdom and far beyond."  

There were gasps of shock and dismay for the King had not made a public appearance in a decade. The mumbles between people grew louder and Bog was thankful he was near the front, so he could at least hear what was to be said. 

The crowd grew quiet as a man shuffled into position, it was obvious that the last ten years had aged him, his beard now white from both growing old and stress. Bog noticed that there was something different in him, the lost look in his eyes seemed to be somewhat faded, the King cleared his throat and addressed his Kingdom.  

"For many years a shadow has been cast on Fairon, it came when my wife, your Queen and our eldest, were murdered in cold blood en route to a neighbouring settlement. Life, however, must go on." 

More mumblings and erratic whispers from the crowd, none of which seemed to distract the King from his speech. 

"A union was pre-arranged over a decade ago, and that is a union that will still be kept. My youngest, Princess Dawn, is engaged to wed Lord Highworth of the Eastern Isles. A ceremony will be held within the castle to celebrate this union, while the wedding itself will be a public event, for all of you to attend." 

Cheers erupted in the crowd to which Bog simply rolled his eyes. Give them a day away from labour and free food and suddenly everything was forgotten. Still, Bog was interested – surely this announcement was not simply about the engagement, everyone already knew that anyway. 

The King raised his hands to indicate he was not yet finished and the crowd hushed. From behind the king, Bog could make out more individuals coming onto the platform. There was Dawn, her blonde hair catching the sun, Lord Highworth grinning to the crowd, his advisor close behind and whispering in his ear.  

There was someone else too, who reluctantly followed Dawn's footsteps, dressed in equally fine clothing and it took Bog a moment to realise who it was. 

"When there is a shadow," The King explained, his hands resting on either side of the podium, "there is also light. After years of heartbreak, searching and lost hope, I am... so happy to announce the return of the Crown Princess, Marianne of Fairon." 

*** 

Dawn smiled politely as she knew the whole kingdom was watching her, but inwards she was scowling, the anger boiling at her insides. 

A public announcement, she had tried to explain to both her father and the one who advised it, was much too soon for Marianne to deal with. After all, she had only just returned to them, there was no need to flaunt her out to the public immediately.  

But with a cynical whisper, Scirus has persuaded her father yet again to carry out something that could lead to a potential backlash. 

Dawn could not shake the feeling that Marianne's return unnerved the advisor, and that his pushing for the public announcement of her return was in his favour and his alone. There was nothing to be gained by Marianne feeling out of her depth and uncomfortable if anything it could hinder her ability to remember important details. 

Unfortunately, Dawn was to do as she was told - look and act like a princess should. Still, she was grateful that she had managed to convince her father that she should deliver a speech rather than Marianne. 

As she stepped out to take her father's place in the centre of the platform and behind the podium, she looked out into the sea of faces. There were those whose faces showed no pain or hardship, while others, especially children, had a layer of grime on them, but still, they smiled up at her as if she was their hope for the future. 

"Greetings citizens of Fairon," Dawn acknowledged with a smile, "I am sure many of you have questions, to which I hope to answer in the best possible wa-" 

Dawn felt herself falling, but she did not register it until she smacked against the wood floor. Bewildered and alarmed she looked upwards to see her sister standing over her, holding up the podium with two hands. The heavy block of wood swung in the air before she threw it down and leaped into the crowd.  

Pushing herself upwards, Dawn felt the presence of multiple guardsmen around her and through their legs, Dawn could see the wooden podium laying on its side, a single arrow embedded into the oak. 

Shaking off the adrenaline, Dawn could see the guardsmen swarming the small platform, ushering the royal family to safety. Hands pulled at her, commanding her to retreat, but Dawn pried them off, searching the crowd for Marianne – then, she found her. 

*** 

Muuh listened to the King's words to the best of her ability, the throbbing in her head brought on from last night was still prominent in the foreground of her skull.  

From beside her, the princess walked with confidence in her stride to the wooden block. Earlier that morning, while they were dressed in tight materials with inconvenient frills and ruffs, Muuh had noticed that there was something troubling the princess but left her to her own devices.  

She had just started to address the crowd when something caught Muuh's eye. It was a gleam of something polished, the sun reflecting off of it. She followed the gleam and noticed a crossbow being hoisted upwards. 

Muuh ran, pushing herself forwards and knocked the princess down to the ground. She grabbed and hoisted the wooden block, just in time to feel the crossbow bolt wedge itself into the thick oak. Fearing another one, Muuh let the block drop from her grip and leapt into the crowd. In frustration, she wanted to rip off the dress that restricted her movement so.  

The crossbow and its owner seemed to panic at the surprise failure and began to move backwards into the now startled crowd, but Muuh gave chase. Her eyes were fixated on the figure and she refused to lose them from her sights. 

She got closer, noticing that the man was no match for her fast feet. With a swift leap that ripped some segments of her dress, Muuh tackled the man to the stone floor, driving her elbow into him. Forcing her weight down onto him, Muuh turned him over, smacking the crossbow from his hand.  

With ferocity, she slammed her arm across the man's throat as he gurgled and wriggled in an attempt to get free. 

Snarling, Muuh looked at his face and suddenly the pain in her skull sharpened, the edge of her eyesight losing its focus and fading to black.  

She had seen this man before... but that was not... possible...  

But he felt so familiar... 

Muuh did not register the guards coming forward to apprehend the man as memories started to flood her.  

As if everything had lost its colour, Muuh was now looking at a regal woman, tears pouring down her cheeks and her mouth open as if to shriek.  

Muuh could only watch as a knife sliced through the woman's throat, the blood erupting from her like she was nothing more than a fountain. 

The attacker stood upwards and wiped the bloody knife on his thigh and turned. 

The attacker's face was identical to the man she had just tackled, except he looked younger but still as ragged.  

Who was he... Who was that woman he killed? 

Muuh did not get any answers and it was not until she felt a firm arm grab her that she was brought back to reality. 

"Your Highness?" A guardsman inquired, his eyes barely visible underneath his helmet. "You're injured!" 

Muuh felt the dampness on her top lip and with a confused wipe saw it was more blood seeping from her nose.  

"We need to get you back to the castle-" The guard declared, attempting to lead her away. Muuh obeyed, feeling too weak to do anything else, her head was ringing and her sight was still askew. 

Turning and looking up at the faces in the crowd, she could see Bog – his eyes finding hers instantly. While his gaze gave a form of comfort, Muuh noticed the other eyes on her. 

Eyes that screamed worry, confusion and worst of all; fear. 

Muuh looked over her shoulder to see the attacker be put into restraints before being carted off by the royal guards.  

A small part of her hoped that the princess was alright and unharmed, the same part that had leapt in and presumably saved her life. 

Another part of her wondered what people thought, had she dropped her guard too soon? 

She got her answer soon enough when people muttered their opinions as she walked by, escorted by the armed guard. 

"She's a... savage." 

Chapter Text

Muuh's nose still tingled with the same uncomfortable, dull ache of the pain she had felt yesterday, as much as she tried to wash away the blood, she could feel it dry in the unreachable area inside her nose. 

She dared not think of the memories - of what she had seen, for it stung her head and made her feel weak – which, given the circumstances, would leave her at a disadvantage.  

Muuh had heard the whispers that rose through the crowd like a gust of wind, of what they called her – a savage. 

Dawn swanned in, Lizzie following close behind carrying a mountain of fabric that threatened to fall from the looming pile. 

It puzzled Muuh to see the Princess so relaxed, Muuh was no stranger to the consequences of attacks, but she had thought that the Princess would be unnerved, shaken by what transpired yesterday.  

Lizzie placed the bundle she had been carrying on a large box at the foot of Dawn's bed. Her cheeks were red and a few hair strands were out of place in the tight bun she normally sported. 

"Lizzie, would you be able to find out what Roland is wearing for tomorrow night's event?" Dawn pleaded as she began to rummage through the pile of frills and ruffs.  

Muuh looked up and caught Lizzie's eye, she was biting her bottom lip, her hard gaze dancing between Muuh and the Princess. 

"Lizzie?" Dawn asked again, Muuh nearly not catching the stern hint in her voice. 

With obedience, Lizzie left, her fists clenched tightly as she did so.  

Muuh watched the handmaiden go, then turned her attention onto the princess who had dropped the dress she was previously examining and sighed. 

"We need to discuss what happened."  

"Are you meaning the attack?" Muuh inquired. 

Dawn nodded, golden wisps of hair fluttering by her cheeks as she did so. 

"I did not want Lizzie to hear us talking, I am aware of her cautious behaviour and I could do without her mothering me on this matter." 

Muuh sat silently, waiting for the princess to continue. 

"Threats can happen often when all eyes are on you, rarely though attacks are carried out. It was the first time I have been targeted, but... not my- our family's, as I am sure you know." 

Dawn had begun to pace, her stride bold yet cautious. 

"Of course, I am shaken by what occurred, but I have to keep a cool head, a façade - so to speak, what with the celebration tomorrow night."  

Muuh noted the corner of Dawn's mouth twitched into a potential frown, but her lips stayed in a neutral line.  

"Getting to the point Marianne, I think people will fear you." 

"Fear me?" Muuh repeated, she remembered Bog's eyes widen during their first encounter, was he afraid of her too? 

Dawn ceased her striding and took a seat next to Muuh, her hands holding hers. 

"You pushed me out of harm's way and caught the arrow in the podium, not only that, you chased down after the attacker and stopped him from escaping."  

"You would have been dead if I had not." Muuh pointed out. "What is it about that, that frightens people?"  

"Because, of how different you are. Princesses are supposed to dress up, look beautiful, speak little and perform for anyone and everyone, yet you-you broke that mould. I think whatever is not normal, scares people." 

"Are you scared of me?" Muuh pressed, inwardly hoping it was true. The more distance between them, the better.  

"You saved my life." Dawn said, her eyes wide and in the low light of the room almost glittering. "How could I be scared of you?" 

Muuh looked down at their hands, fingers now interlocked.  

"I just... a part of me, perhaps all of me, wants to know what happened those years you were gone. Where you were, how you survived, how did you become... you?" 

The words edged on the tip of Muuh's tongue as if the truth wanted to tumble out and expose itself.  

But, she could not let it, not for the sake of her true family, the ones who taught her to hunt, to run, to survive.  

"Marianne..." 

Dawn's hand tightly gripped at hers, the sound of pleading visible in her tone.  

An idea then fluttered into Muuh's mind, the same way a butterfly lands gracefully on a flower ready to feed. It seemed Dawn was already on Muuh's side if she could explain about the forest, her mission, then it would be easy to get the King on their side too. 

The only problem was, did she trust her? 

Without thinking Muuh had thrown herself into danger for her, a sign among Fae of brethren. Not only that, there were the memories to consider. An uncomfortable sting started to blossom in her skull, but Muuh had known those eyes, recalled events she could not place – perhaps, Dawn could her uncover what those meant.  

Muuh told Dawn of her life within the forest, instead of tales of the Fae and their customs, Muuh spoke of a hermit's life, how she lived alone amongst the animals, until she was found by the bounty hunter. 

"You've been alone?... All this time?" Dawn's eyes shimmered with tears. 

Muuh nodded, a lie, but she could not speak of the Fae for fear of their survival.  

"The forest..." Dawn trailed off, getting to her feet. "The forest..." She repeated, going to a wall and letting her gaze fall over piles of parchment and dusty books until she found what she was looking for, pulling it out with a merger tug.  

Effortlessly, she skimmed through the pages until stopping and thrusting the aged book onto Muuh's lap. The Fae wrote with runes and protective markings if at all, but Muuh could make out most words, the longer ones were troublesome but still manageable. 

The words detailed of a travellers' journey through the deep woodland. His trek was on foot, during the day he hid amongst the tree's overbearing branches to hide from the sun while at night he slept in a bed of ferns.  

One night, the young man could feel himself being watched, as he slowly opened his own eyes, glowing red ones shone out from the shadows before evaporating into the darkness.  

Intrigued, he stepped off the track into the void to seek the eyes, for his curiosity was greater than his fear. Risking his life, he ventured deeper, but soon became lost. Deciding the best course of action was to wait until daylight, the man drifted off into sleep. In his dreams, he saw creatures – fearsome beasts almost human but appeared to be made out of starlight, speaking with their immortal tongue of the heart they had to protect.   

These woods were their home, and he was trespassing.  

With a start, the man awoke only to find himself back onto the path once more, his journey through the forest almost complete. With no more reason to stay there, the man pressed onwards but knew that from the depths – he was still and will always be, watched.  

"What... is this?" Muuh asked when she had finished reading the foreign words. 

"It's a short story in a collection of many." Dawn explained, taking the book and closing it with a heavy thud. "It's the only one surrounding the forest, there have been accounts of people saying they saw something in the trees as they used the track through, but it is nothing more than a fairy-tale. Still, it must have been terrifying..." 

Muuh remembered Griselda and her tale, how she herself thought she had seen something.  

Impian, as wise and as old as he was, had seen many a human during his time – had they seen him? And the continuous mention of a heart, was this what the king was seeking? a heart to replace his broken one? Within Nemus there was no such thing. 

There were still so many questions, and time was running short. 

"Dawn..." Muuh called, the name feeling sensitive on her tongue. "I fear there are people who wish to cause harm to the forest." 

A puzzled look crossed the princess' delicate face. 

"What do you mean to cause harm?" 

"After the Bo-... the bounty hunter found me, there was an ambush and we were almost killed by the Kings' guard."  

Dawn's hand covered her mouth. 

Before she could input with any lingering questions, Muuh was about to continue explaining when Lizzie burst in, cheeks still aflame.  

"Your Highness, it is turning into a disaster, I think you are needed-" 

"Calm down Lizzie," Dawn said softly, placing a hand delicately on the older woman's arm, at once the handmaiden heaved a heavy sigh before the worrying look was back.  

"I also had trouble finding Lord Highworth, no one has seen him since yesterday..."  

"I shall go and search for him, I am sure the presence of his future wife will lure him out." Dawn commented bitterly, "Do not fret Mari, we shall continue later. In the meantime, why not prepare for tomorrow? I cannot wait to see you dance!"  

"Dance...?" Muuh asked in response, the word falling flat as Dawn left with her handmaiden.  

Once again, Muuh found herself failing to adjust. 

*** 

His mother clutched the parchment close to her chest, Bog did not need to see the emblem to know who had sent it.  

"To think, you will be walking the gilded halls once again, I always knew you were destined for greatness." 

Bog fought the urge to roll his eyes but could not resist a sigh.  

"Mother, I will not be going."  

Griselda let her hands drop quickly to her side, a simmering angst apparent by her questioning look.  

"You will be going, that girl needs you." 

"She does not need me." Bog stated, not realising how petty he started to sound. 

"You want her to need you." His mother whispered, loud enough for him to hear. 

"What was that?" 

"Oh, nothing." 

"It was not nothing mother, you are twisting words and interfering." 

"Why not simply admit it?" 

"Admit what?" 

"Do not have me for a fool, you are supposed to be a seasoned hunter and yet you are unaware of yourself." 

"I am not-" Bog began but was silenced as a rattle came from the door. 

Getting to his feet, Bog shot his mother another look to silently say 'this conversation ceases here.'  

Pulling the heavy-set door open, he found a familiar figure on his doorstep after losing her in the chaos of yesterday.  

"Muuh?"  

Her sudden appearance threw him off balance, was she not supposed to be at the castle? Had something happened? He could not forget what he had seen yesterday, the blood trickling over her upper lip – yet he knew the man had not punched her, or even had the chance too.

"I need your assistance." She explained, her voice highlighting the urgency of the situation. 

That only confirmed it, Bog's stomach knotted uncomfortably and anger rose within him.  

Whatever happened he was ready; his weapons were laying nearby and he had promised to protect Muuh – whatever the cost. 

"I need you to teach me how to dance." 

Bog stared, then creased his brow and let the confusion spill out.

"What?" 

From behind him, he could make out his mother giggling as if she was three decades younger.  

*** 

“No, no. Wait, stop... this... this is not working.” Bog groaned as Muuh stepped hard on his foot for the fifth time.  

Muuh came to an abrupt halt, her arms returning to her sides and a small frown plastered on her lips.  

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, “I should not be doing this.”  

Bog threw her a questionable look, “doing...?” 

“This!” She gestured dramatically to her and Bog and the space between them. Before Bog could interrupt she continued.  

“I have done nothing so far for my home and instead I am twirling and falling and hurting you.”  

“This is to keep up appearances, you are already so close to the King.”  

“But with every passing hour, I do not feel like myself... I keep-” Muuh swallowed, and bite her lip. As if she was scared of what she was about to say. Bog could not help but wonder if this was to do with blood, a hidden injury? Or perhaps it was more logical, and Muuh could not adjust in this strange, new climate.  

“If we can get through this, it will give you an opening and that is all you need, right?” Bog asked, taking Muuh’s hand and positioning it once more on his waist, refusing to acknowledge the growing warmth in his cheeks.  

“Right.” Muuh breathed meekly, letting her palm find Bog’s as their fingers began to intertwine.  

A moment passed between the two before Bog spoke again, “I just want to explain once more, that I am not an expert at this.” 

“You seem to know what you are doing.” 

Bog let out a soft laugh into the quiet landscape that surrounded them on the lonesome hill his home was located. 

“Everything I know is because of my father. He used to dance with my mother from when the setting sun began to sink and finished when the starlight shone brightly overhead. He always said that as a hunter, you need to be quick on your feet and agile, dancing, is just a form of that.” 

“Dancing... is like a fight?” 

Bog cocked his head in consideration, “In a way, in a battle, it is intimate between you and the person you are against, dancing is like that just minus the violence.” 

Muuh nodded slowly and pressed herself closer to Bog as they began to slowly turn in a circle. Bog watched as her eyes drop to her feet and she began to stumble.  

“Focus.” Bog quietly commanded, Muuh's eyes whipping up to meet his. “Do not look at your feet, you would not look at them if you are running, would you? Let it come naturally.” 

They continued to spin, Muuh ceasing to let her gaze drop below Bog’s jaw. Without thinking, Muuh followed the movement of Bog’s strides, matching them with her own. He held out his hand and instinctively she let herself leave his hold and twirl, only to fumble back into position and Bog catch her as her foot slipped on the sodden earth – a joyous grin on her face. 

“I did it!” 

“You certainly did.” Bog acknowledged with his own grin. 

Dusk had started to settle on the horizon and sharp streaks of burning yellow and red light danced on Muuh’s face, her eyes a glistening shade of cool amber. He lifted her upright, so she was stable once more on her feet. 

“It is getting late,” Bog finally managed to say, “the last thing you want is castle guards looking for you.” 

Muuh nodded in agreement, before leaving she looked over her shoulder. Some of her short tufts of hair had fallen loose while they danced and now they blew against her cheek in the evening wind. 

“Will you be there?” She asked, “Tomorrow?” 

Something tugged at Bog’s chest.  

“For you?” He said with a wild grin, “Of course.” 

*** 

Shimmering lights, grand in structure with curls of iron twisted up and over to hold the candles that burned above. 

Muuh watched them flicker from the alcove she had been instructed to wait in. 

Out on the floor below, many people had gathered for the night’s event. Their dresses were vibrant and majestic, the suits polished and pristine. 

The feeling of not belonging clutched at her tighter than her own dress did.  

From her position on the upper floor, Muuh observed the horde of well-dressed individuals. Their voices echoed like a sweet chorus, the ruckus of laughter and gleeful greetings just loud enough for her to hear.  

“Nervous?” A voice whispered in her ear, causing Muuh to whip around and almost collide a fist into Princess Dawn’s face. 

“Please do not do that.” Muuh said guiltily as the Princess brushed it off with a laugh. 

Dawn’s gloved hand slipped into Muuh’s bare one and together they stole a look of the crowd below. “It is like a completely different world, isn’t it?” 

Muuh turned to face Dawn, whose eyes, for only a moment, looked clouded with sadness. “The people of Fairon are committed to the damp streets while events like these are held. I do not see that as fair.” 

“Change is done with a singular action, not words.” Muuh explained, “You have the authority, the power to change.” 

“It... is not that simple I am afraid, but, I am willing to try.” Dawn took a step back, concealing herself from the floor below. 

“You do look gorgeous tonight Marianne, the colour purple suits you well.” 

While Muuh found it a challenge to both walk and breathe in the garment she was wearing, she could not deny how lush the material felt in her fingertips.  

“Ah, I almost forgot, I wanted, well, we wanted – Father and me, to give you this.” Dawn called forward a guard who raised a regal cushion, gold tassels dangling at all four corners. The Princess spoke quiet to the guard and then dismissed him, allowing the two women to be alone.  

“The fit may be a little off-” Dawn explained, holding up the small metal band in the palm of her two hands. The silver framework was gleaming, nestled in the centre was a large, precious stone. It caught the light and dazzled a brilliant shade of blue, the other two smaller gems which sat either side of the central stone, also shone. 

“I-?” Muuh began to say, but trailed off as Dawn ceremoniously placed it in the ruffles of her hair.  

“Fits better than I expected.” The princess declared with a smile, a small and almost unnoticeable tear forming in the corner of her right eye. 

Sudden loud fanfare captured their attention, and from their alcove, they could see a man, wearing a dramatic suit, complete with extra ruffs and frills, take his place at the top of the grand staircase. 

“Roland,” Dawn acknowledged with minimal enthusiasm, “I will be called next, and then it will be your turn. Are you happy with the formalities?” 

Confirming that she was, Dawn left to take her position on top the stairs, ready to descend into the crowd and perform her duties. The sudden emptiness of the alcove space tugged at Muuh’s chest and before she was aware of it, her feet were dragging the rest of her to the staircase.  

By the time she was atop the first step, Dawn had descended gracefully and was now awaiting Muuh, her blonde betrothed by her side.  

As her name, or rather, an identity, was called out Muuh placed her first foot forward and began to navigate the stairs. The entire room was silent, eyes were fixated on her and she felt like a nervous rabbit manoeuvring through the forest in a panicked state while foxes were after her. 

In a growing panic, Muuh searched the crowd for a familiar set of eyes, but instead of a comforting blue, she was greeted with emerald green, located straight ahead of her. During her stay at the castle, she had narrowly missed interactions with Lord Highworth on numerous occasions, tonight, however, there would be no escape, a conversation was inevitable. 

As her foot graced the marble flooring of the hall, the crowd remained still until another blast of fanfare was played. Remembering that Dawn had explained the first dance will be between herself and the lord, Muuh excused herself and retreated to the crowd, finding a secluded corner that provided a good view of the princess. 

Music began to fill the hall and Muuh watched in childish wonder as the princess’s hand folded against the lord's and they began to twirl and spin. Dawn’s dress fluttered as she danced, soft coloured gemstones that were sewn and embedded in her gown caught the candlelit light as she was led around the floor. 

“Make quite the couple, don’t they?” A gruff voice declared from beside her. Turning and seeing Bog filled her with comforting and confusing relief. 

“You look different.” Muuh teased truthfully. The bounty hunter was hardly recognisable, but Muuh knew that scars and war wounds did not hide so easily. 

“As do you, I always admired that woman could wear those and survive.” 

“I admire them too, I cannot stand it, though... it is beautiful.” 

Bog nodded, “You are.”  

Muuh whipped her head upwards, “what?”  

“What?” Bog repeated and then turned his focus to the dancing couple who bowed to indicate they had finished.  

The lord raised a gloved hand and addressed the room.  

“Dear guests, thank you for attendance tonight in honour of Princess Dawn of Fairon and myself, Lord Roland Highworth of the Eastern Isles’ celebration of our upcoming union. Since travelling to Fairon over a decade ago, I have been welcomed by not only the royal family but also by the citizens-” 

“She does not look happy.” Muuh whispered loud enough for Bog to hear. 

For a moment Bog paused, watching as the crowd clapped at whatever the lord had said. 

“She’s doing her duty, what she was born to do, well I suppose not, it was supposed to be Mari-” Bog trailed off, refusing to look at Muuh. 

Before she could question him, Muuh felt a gloved hand caress her own. She looked up alarmed to see Lord Highworth smiling back at her, a single golden curl hanging loose on his forehead. 

“Your Highness?” He asked, his voice smooth. “May I have this dance?” 

The crowd behind them watched curiously, waiting apprehensively for the lost princess’ answer. Dawn stood with them, her hands folded neatly at her front but her eyes full of caution. 

“Yes.” Muuh agreed, letting the lord's hand guide her out to the centre of the floor. Quickly, she stole a look over her shoulder, to see Bog’s unreadable expression before turning her attention back to the task at hand.  

Dancing, she remembered, was like a fight.  

Like she practised, she placed her palm against Lord Highworth’s, remembering to let the movements come naturally to her. Music engulfed her as they began to dance, other members of the crowd finding their own partners and joining them. 

“Forgive me for not speaking with you sooner, this, you, it has all been a great shock.” The lord confided with a mutter. 

“It is... understandable, Lord Highworth.” 

“Roland, please, since we were... once very close.” 

“How so?” Muuh asked as they twirled. 

Roland’s cheeks flushed, an embarrassed look fluttered on his face for only a moment.  

“I was warned of your memory, accept my apologies.” 

“Apology accepted, now, how were we close?” 

“You and I were engaged to be wed; we only met once, the day you set off... the day you went missing...” 

“Oh.” Muuh managed to say, she had been desperately trying to avoid thinking of her past, for fear of the ache and sting that proceeded with it. In an attempt to change the subject, Muuh asked about her Dawn. 

“Dawn is beautiful, very much so. However, I would rather keep the conversation focused on you, you are a mystery after all.” 

“I am?” Muuh asked naively, to which Roland responded with a regal chuckle. 

“A woman turns up after ten years and the Princess and King both believe it to be their long lost relative? Not to mention that stunt at the public announcement, I have not even seen our own personal guard move as quickly and ferociously as you do.” 

“You do not think I am Marianne?”  

Muuh noticed how slight the change of behaviour was in the lord as if he was trying to intimidate her. 

“Only Marianne would remember the gift I gave on that fateful day.” Roland stated, his gaze looking down at Muuh, his eyes hinting at untrust and suspicion.  

Until this point, Muuh had deliberately attempted to avoid the past, but now she had no choice. If Roland caught on to her not being the lost Princess, her chances of saving her forest home would fall to nought.  

“Is something the matter?” Roland mocked, but Muuh drowned out his voice, staring defiantly into his eyes. 

Green and shimmering, the overhead lights causing them to glisten.  

Muuh found herself wondering if they would look like that in the daylight too, then the world grew darker at the edges, as young voices filled her ears. 

“ Safe travels Marianne ...token of our union...would you like... help you put it on?” 

As soon as the voices started, they ceased and Muuh found herself standing still.

The dance had ended. 

“Just as we expected...” Roland seethed, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Did you mean the pendant?” Muuh blurted. 

Roland’s mouth opened in surprise as he clutched both of Muuh’s hand to his chest. 

“Go on!” He pressed. 

“The pendant... with the jewel, that was green like your eyes. It was a token, of-of... our union.” 

A grin exploded onto Roland’s face, “so, it really is you, Marianne.” 

Was it? Thoughts were colliding in Muuh’s head and the growing sting in the front of her skull was making her feel vulnerable. She needed some air, she could feel her dress crushing her, the fabric too heavy to move, let alone breath in.  

Breaking free from Roland, Muuh began towards two large doors, the night sky and distance visible just beyond them. 

Roland’s gloved hand wrapped around her wrist and slightly tugged her back. “Wait, please, I want to give you this. It was found when your mother’s body was discovered, I obtained it when I came of age as it was once a personal heirloom. While that may be the case, it was gifted to you all those years ago, so I like to consider it a lost item, now returned to its rightful place – just like you.”  

Something cold and heavy was placed into Muuh’s hand. Roland turned and merged into the crowd, who themselves were oblivious to the lord and lost princess’ somewhat tender moment.

*** 

Bog stood with his back to the furthest wall and watched as Muuh danced with Lord Highworth.  

He always had a disliking for the blonde haired charismatic noble, but could never pinpoint as to why.  

His mother would say it was jealousy, and yes, while Bog felt uncomfortable that Muuh was in such close proximity to him, he kept reminding himself that this was the same woman who defended herself against an attack by guardsmen.  

Still, he hoped that she was not being led astray by his words, Bog knew from experience how this lavish lifestyle could taint and entice a soul. He had watched peers throw away all their money, just for the chance to receive an invite to an event like this, only to succumb to starvation a few months on. 

Bog surveyed the room, couples had joined Muuh and the lord on the ballroom floor, their dresses filling the space as they spun and curtsied. Bog doubted that there was anyone like him present, he did not belong in this world after all, and the only reason he was here, was for her. 

From across the grand hall, Bog could just about make out something being placed in Muuh’s hand and then, without prompting, she headed for the balcony.  

He was about to follow, but then thought better of it - he needed to remember; Muuh did not need him as much as he seemed to need her. 

As Bog turned his attention elsewhere, he failed to see the cloaked presence of Highworth’s adviser, following Muuh outside. 

*** 

The cool night air buffeted lightly against her skin and in Muuh’s palm lay the small pendant. Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the central jewel, as if fearful that each touch could result in more strange memories. 

“Is there something more entertaining here than inside?” A low voice murmured from behind her, clenching her hand shut, Muuh spun to see Sciurus approaching her. 

Like Roland, she had not spoken with the unusual man as of yet. However, she had noted his eyes on her at numerous times, staring intently from underneath his hood. 

“Sciurus... your majesty.” He said as he introduced himself with a dramatic bow. “Though I am sure you already know how I am.” His eyes quickly darted to Muuh's clenched hand, the chain of the pendant dangling from her grip. 

“I see you have spoken with my master Lord Highworth and calmed his fears of your identity. So you are Princess Marianne, our kingdom’s lost royal, feared by many if not all - to be dead.” 

With minimal movement on his part, Sciurus gestured his hand to the guards that stood behind him. Muuh watched them leave their posts and return to the gathering inside. 

“You must understand,” Sciurus continued, “It is my job to be suspicious, I have to admit however that I was surprised more people did not come forward to claim the fallen princess’ identity.” 

“You are still apprehensive even though the King, Princess Dawn, Roland – they believe I am the princess.” 

“Do you believe you are the princess?” Sciurus questioned, his voice carrying calmly on the wind. Before she could answer, he let out a placid laugh that unnerved Muuh to her core. 

“I am sure the life you have been living for these many years will make for an interesting tale one day, there are so many things, after all, we wish to know. Like how you managed to survive? Wherever you have been, it is dangerous out there. I had one patrol settlement report potential death of a unit as well as someone sneaking into their encampment, taking out the guards, stealing information as well as a horse.” 

Muuh swallowed. 

“You would not happen to know anything about that... would you?” 

“Why would I?” Muuh challenged. 

“Strange...” Sciurus said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Considering how the profile given of the thief matches you rather well. Same goes for your little bounty hunter.” 

Feigning ignorance was now her only option, “I am afraid I don’t understand what you mean-” 

Sciurus shook his head. “I was impressed with your performance until this point, now, normally I get my men to clean up these messes, but after the stunt he pulled in the assassination failure, he is of no use to me now.” 

“Assassination... failure...?” Then it clicked, the man who tried to shoot Dawn, the same man who had sliced open the woman’s neck. He was one of Sciurus’ men, which could only mean- 

“You... sent... them.” 

Sciurus made an intrigued noise, “sent them?” He repeated coldly. 

“That night the coach was attacked... the night when she was murdered... they were your men. You sent them.”  

A small laugh, like a single bell toll, escaped Sciurus’ lips as he pushed his hood back, the fabric gathering at the nape of his neck.  

His skin was pale, age lines running from the creases of his eyes to his thin, grey hair. His eyes were dark, as if the iris were replaced with the pupil alone and the sockets were sunken, tinges of purple settling on his hollow cheeks.  

“So, it really is Princess Marianne.” Sciurus purred, licking his dry and cracked upper lip. 

“You... You killed her! My- My... mother.”  

Tears fell from Muuh’s eyes, along with a thin trail of blood from her nose. 

“Neither of you were supposed to die, it was a mistake my men made, most of whom I have now disposed of for their ignorance.” 

“Everything... everything is because of YOU!”  

Muuh wanted to do nothing more than drive the pendant deep into the man’s throat and let him suffer the same fate that the woman who created her had suffered. 

“My, my. You do have a temper on you, don’t you? What was it the people called you? A savage? Yes, that is exactly what you are.” 

With a single growl, Muuh ran at him, launching a fist at his face. 

But the hit never landed. 

Instead of the sensation of her fist making contact with his frail cheekbones, she felt a familiar burning that intensified instantly, and with a twist, Sciurus pushed the dagger deeper inside her. 

“When they said they could not find your body, I knew what had happened. You fell into that forest, didn’t you? I knew for certain then you would be dead, if the animals had not feasted on your sorry flesh then it would not be long until you starved, or, be killed be those things... with their red eyes and bodies made of starlight."

Muuh tried to speak, but no noise would come out – only gasps of air. 

“I take comfort in knowing and seeing that now you will be dead, and soon, you will be joined by the rest of your precious family." Sciurus said with a smile as he pulled out the dagger from Muuh's side. "Long, live Fairon." He muttered as he turned to go.

As Sciurus' silhouette put up his hood once more, a far section to the back of the castle exploded, lumps of stone and rock flew through the air while a fire raged from the ruin.

Chapter Text

The screams came first, then the panic as nobles and aristocrats huddled together in confusion. A ringing continued to hum in Bog’s ear, the sound, whatever it was, had been loud but thankfully not close. 

His optimism was short lived when he was knocked to his feet by a second blast, the ringing escalating to a piercing shriek. As he pulled himself up from the floor, he noticed how the chandelier overhead swung dramatically, the candles snuffed out, their wisps of smoke dancing manically in the air. 

Around him the crowd had begun to stampede, guards were aiding them in an escape, but people were pushing and shoving – fearful of their own lives. 

Stumbling, adrenaline coursing through his veins, Bog pushed through the hysteric crowd in an attempt to search for Muuh, but the horde was flailing, stumbling over one another in a rush to survive. Realising he would have a better survey of the area if he got to higher ground, Bog rushed for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. 

From below, a guard roared at him, but did not give chase – why would they? It may have been their duty to guard, but they would not throw away their lives so easily, after all, they were only human. 

The smell of burning stung at his nose when he reached the top and his attention was grabbed by a guard leading someone down the corridor, past an alcove and around the corner, the figure attempted to pull away but to no avail. 

Wriggling in the guard’s grasp and declaring that he should ‘let her go’, Bog realised it was Princess Dawn. As slowly and stealthy as he could, he gave chase until he was inches from the guard, then in a fluid movement, wrapped his forearm against the guard’s throat. In response to being attacked, the guard let his grip on the princess loosen enough for her to push away, and then after a few moments of struggling and unsuccessfully trying to pry Bog off, the guard crumpled to the ground, the lack of oxygen rendering him unconscious.  

"Are you alright?" Bog asked, the princess' eyes wide with fear and panic.  

"Fine." She exclaimed although Bog knew that was a lie.  

"We need to get out of here." Bog said, picking up the guard's weapon that lay beside him on the ground and handing it to the princess.  

She looked at the spear and then back to Bog before gingerly taking it, her two small hands tightened around the metal pole.  

"I- I do not understand what is happening." The princess whispered frantically. 

"I think it is an attack, a large one at that, we really cannot stay here-"  

"What about Marianne? Lizzie? Father..." Dawn visibly bit her lip, her blue eyes glazing over. 

Bog felt his stomach drop, where was Muuh now? The last time he saw her she was walking towards the balcony, but then he lost sight of her. What if something had happened to her? 

"You need to get to safety," Bog encouraged, "we can find guards who-" 

"A guard threatened to cut open my neck if I did not comply. I cannot trust anyone who is a guardsman at the moment, I do not know who is my ally."  

"Do you trust me?" Bog asked as he squatted beside the unconscious guard.  

"Foolishly, I do." Dawn said as Bog picked up the guard and placed him over his shoulder, shifting the weight so he was still able to manoeuvre. 

"Good," Bog huffed, "you don't have much of a choice." 

*** 

Muuh's ears stung as smoke rose into the night sky, but the pain was nowhere near to the intensity she felt in her side.  

Her hand was clasped at the wound, and when upon taking it away she could see her fingers stained a dark red. Muuh let herself lean against the balcony edge, her legs threatening to collapse.  

In her other hand still nestled the necklace, the metal surface cool against her heated palm. 

Using her good side and free, now bloodied hand, Muuh clutched at the loose fabric on her sleeve and tugged down with all the force she could muster. There was a ripping sound, the threads giving way and the sleeve came apart, the fabric tearing in the process.  

Grateful for the length of the material, Muuh pressed it against her side, her screams relatively quiet in the chaos of the night. Sweat began to pour from her forehead, and she knew that if she did not move – she would die in the godforsaken place. 

With tender steps, Muuh stumbled back through the large balcony doors, only to find the room now deserted, small pieces of rubble and debris scattered on the floor. She pushed herself against a door on the adjoining wall, but the handle would not turn and seemed as if it was bolted shut.  

Sciurus' doing. 

With a heavy pant, Muuh dragged herself onwards, breathing through gritted teeth. She had been injured before in spars and fights, but nothing like this. 

Then a thought flashed in her mind of a dark night, her view lit by moonlight and the crimson that soaked that memory. Muuh realised that she had been stabbed once before, she always wondered how she obtained the long-raised scar that run along the length of her stomach.  

It seemed that know she knew. 

Muuh reached the foot of the grand staircase and was about to ascend when she heard faint shouts. Searching, she found that behind a marble pillar hid an antique door, slightly ajar. Fumbling with the handle, Muuh pulled the door open and found herself in an empty corridor – the shouts were ever so slightly more noticeable out here, and she could not ignore them.  

With each heavy step she took, thoughts battled in her mind against the seeping darkness that etched at the side of her skull. Was she going to die here? Was she to never see the forest again? The Fae? Never to look at Princess Dawn and see her as her sister?  

The notion of death had felt so different when she lived in the forest, it felt natural and organic, but here... 

Muuh could not die without the truth leaving her lips, that Sciurus was the reason her mother was now nothing but a memory and her own personal memories were nothing.  

There was something else, something about the way he spoke of the forest. Muuh tried to focus, but the pain in her side blossomed and she stumbled, crashing into a wall. She bit her lip in an attempt to control the pain, her teeth piercing her skin and the taste of fresh blood dripping into her mouth. 

She had to keep moving, she had to, she had to, she... had... 

More shouting, closer now. The voices roaring desperately, as if trying to get her attention. With effort, Muuh pushed herself upwards, relying heavily on her good side. The makeshift bandage she had made was slipping, the blood seeping through, but voices meant people, people meant help, help meant survival.  

Keeping her free hand on the wall to stabilise herself, Muuh followed the voices, their calls and pleas a distraction from the agony of her wound. With each trudge, the sounds became clearer – until she could hear a familiar shriek behind a door that had been secured shut with a wooden beam. 

Using her shoulder to loosen and push the beam upwards, Muuh freed the door. With minimal effort, the door opened and Muuh stumbled inside, nearly falling over the steep stone step that led into the small closed off space. 

A broad man rushed to her aid first, his face was tanned but the bruise he sported on his left eye was both sore and new. Behind him stood a younger man who looked fairly similar to the first minus the injuries. It took Muuh a moment to realise that this was the messenger that she followed to the castle and the guard who was present the first time she had met... reunited... with Dawn. 

"She's bleeding Pare! Sunny grab me one of those sheets."  

Lizzie's voice was sharp and fierce, but as she wiped Muuh's hair away from her eyes, there was a tenderness to her touch.  

"I need to stop the bleeding..." Lizzie muttered as she tore into a linen sheet, reinforcing the pre-existing bandage with the linen, wrapping it tightly around Muuh's torso.  

"We need to leave Elizabet, that last rumble was much louder... if we stay any longer..."  

"I know Pare, I know. I cannot leave her in such a state- my god Marianne... what happened..." 

Muuh's mouth felt dry, the flavour of blood now tasting stale on her tongue.  

She wheezed, the air sounding coarse as it escaped her lips. 

"Sciurus." She managed before intaking another deep and uneven breath of air. 

"Sciurus?" The young man repeated, his dark eyes wide with concern. He approached, careful however not to get to close. "What do you mean Sciurus? Did he... do that to you?" 

"He killed mother." Muuh said through pauses. The words shattered the atmosphere, with Lizzie losing the colouring that shone on her cheeks and nose and the two men looking sick. 

"You don't think...?" Lizzie trailed off mid-question, looking to Pare for reassurance. 

"You and I both know we were locked in here to die, but to think it was Sciurus... all this time-" 

"Dawn." The young man, Sunny, whimpered to himself.  

Lizzie instinctively placed a caring hand on his shoulder, but the expression she wore was evident that she herself was terrified for the fate of the youngest royal. 

"Have to go." Muuh managed to say, to which the others agreed. Staying put would mean death, the once faint smell of fire now making Muuh's chest ache. 

Lizzie and Sunny supported Muuh as they made their way back down the corridor she had come from, Pare led the way, stating how he wished he had not let his fellow guards take his weapon and scolded himself for how gullible he had been. 

"We were not to know dad." Sunny offered sympathetically, "how could we have predicted this would happen?" 

"It is my job to be cautious, if anything happens to the King, to the princesses..."  

"Mope when we are outside." Lizzie scolded, taking a second to shift Muuh's weight and steady herself. 

Darkness was slowly creeping in on Muuh's vision, her sight becoming blurred. As the group staggered quickly through the halls, Muuh's ears picked up the strange hum of hushed conversations.

As they turned the corner that led into the main entrance, there were greeted by a tall man, adorned with fitted armour, his strong jawline clenched and eyes ablaze with rage. 

"Captain Daymond..." Sunny whispered with a swallow as the Captain unsheathed his sword. 

*** 

Bog grunted quietly as he began to feel the weight of the guard, his muscles starting to strain.  

"How can one be known as ruthless and fearsome if they have a soft heart?" Dawn commented as they semi-jogged down the halls, Dawn navigating. She still gripped the spear tightly, as if fearful of the weapon rather than what it could do.  

"Having a heart just makes me human Princess, there are far worse than I."  

The princess was silent for a moment as they trudged onwards, faraway explosions shattering another remote part of the castle.  

"Do you know what happened to her?" Dawn finally asked as the exited a corridor, "what happened to Marianne? You found her after all and she seems... attached to you." 

"Attached?" Bog questioned, doubtful of the princess' assumption. 

Dawn's glide slowed and then finally stopped as she turned to face him. "I saw-"  

The words fell out of her mouth and her eyes fluttered with panic as she hissed at Bog to hide. She pushed him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards into a wall, the guard on his back colliding with a marble pillar.  

Neither moved as footsteps became angered voices, as two elite King's guardsmen held the King between them, his face littered with cuts and bruises, his arms pinned tightly behind his back and legs struggling to keep up at the pace the soldiers strode at.  

"Father..." Dawn hissed, her hands whitening as they clutched at the halberd's pole. 

Before Bog could grab her and tell her to wait, Dawn leapt from their hiding spot, throwing herself onto the back of one of the guards and using the metal pole to pull him off balance and submit him to her mercy. As she continually pulled back, the guards feet slipped and he fell to his knees. 

The King was thrown to the floor like nothing more than a ragdoll, his groans quieted by the second guard.  

"The Princess?!" He scoffed. "Do you even know how to use that, your majesty?" The guard eyed Dawn as if she was a young child, playing with something she had no right meddling with.  

Dawn pulled back tighter, the guard gurgling for air and hands flailing in an attempt to free himself from the pole's heavy grip. 

"I did not want to be the one who did this-" The guard did not finish speaking nor reaching for his weapon as Bog launched the unconscious guard he had been carrying at him.  

"Sod having a soft heart." Bog spat as he pummelled his fist into the guard's face once he had dragged the body off, adding a few extra punches for good measure.  

He turned to the princess, who still clutched her weapon.  

"You can let go of that now."  

With a questionable look, Dawn looked down to see the guard beneath her cease his struggling. With a start she withdrew the weapon, the halberd falling to the ground with a clang.  

"Is... he dead?"  

Bog shook his head, "Unconscious, but not for long. We need to move."  

Dawn's eye fell on her father, groaning on the floor. She ran to him, falling by his side, her hands cradling his face. 

"Father? Father, what did they do to you?"  

"Dawn? Oh Dawn, they told me you were dead."  

"I will not die today Father, nor will you. Can you stand?"  

The King nodded wearily as Dawn helped him to his feet, Bog joining them after checking the fallen bodies, halberd in hand.  

"Who is this man?" The King questioned, though his face was beaten and body nearly broken, he retained a regal sense about him.  

"Bogaerd Kingston... your majesty." Bog introduced.  

"He is the man who found Marianne, saved me and- and you!" Dawn eagerly included. 

"My humblest than-" 

"All due respect your highness, it is not safe – we need to press on."  

"Father lean on me." Dawn offered, "Come, it is this way to the main entrance." 

*** 

"My favourite story starts with a loyal Captain finding three servants with a wounded, savage Princess. Do you know how that story ends? Because that is my favourite part." Daymond mocked as he thrusted the hilt of his weapon across Pare's face, sending him backwards, his head contacting the wall with a crack. 

"Pity there were weak men like you among my ranks." Daymond sneered.

Sunny cried out but could not move as a sword was pointed at his throat.  

"I would be very careful about your movements kitchen boy. You won't be able to chase after Princess Dawn if your blood is spilt out here, would you?"  

Sunny paled. 

"Let... them go." Muuh grunted through gritted teeth.  

Daymond laughed with a scoff, threateningly moving the sword slowly so that it was now inches from Muuh's neck. 

"You leave her alone! She is your Princess and you will do well to remember that."  

The laughter in Daymond's eyes dulled and died. "Who are you, to tell me, what to do? You are just some forgettable woman who took over as mother goose from a dead Queen." 

"You take that back." Lizzie spat, her eyes brimming with hot tears. "She was your Queen and you served under her. How could you betray her, betray the crown?!" 

Daymond straightened, unfaced by the handmaiden's remarks. "On the contrary, I have not betrayed the crown, I still serve it – simply in this world, it is survival of the fittest and our King has not been much of a King these last ten years... has he?"  

"Hasn't he?" A familiar, deep voice questioned, causing Daymond to drop his stance and turn.  

"You!" Daymond roared as Bog looked down at him from the staircase. "I remember your disgusting face, I could never forget a traitorous, unruly cretin like you-" 

Using this opportunity Sunny lunged, using his weight to pull the Captain down. His sword fell from his grip and skidded across the floor.  

"GUARDS!" Daymond roared as he struggled with Sunny, who was no match in build but sent fist after fist into Daymond's meagre block.  

As a small unit of guards ran forward to aid their Captain, Pare shifted his weight and swiped out, his palm smashing against a guard's shin, sending the troop off balance and crashing to the floor, dropping his spear in the process. Pare, ignoring the small trail of blood running down his forehead, clamoured over the fallen guard and snatched the weapon, but not before the guard rolled, grabbing at Pare's foot and pulling him towards him. 

"Lizzie, the sword." Muuh managed to mumble. The woman did not move, instead, continued to hold her up. 

"Now..." Muuh mustered, pushing herself free from the handmaiden and using some of her reserved strength to push Lizzie forward towards the Captain's sword that still lay untouched on the ground.  

"No you don't!" Daymond yelled, using Sunny's tiredness against him and sending a blow into the side of his head. With another yell, Daymond wrapped a free hand around Lizzie's ankle, pulling at her as she ran past and sending her smacking to the ground. Frantically she tried to flail and pry him off, landing a kick that caused Daymond to howl with pain, fresh blood dripping from his now crooked nose. 

As Pare fought with a guard, Muuh limped past Daymond who writhed on the floor muttering to himself, he lowered his hands and Muuh could see blood mixed with spit smeared on his face. "After this castle burns, I'll burn down that forest too – there is nowhere you can run you savages!" 

Sunny, who had managed to get back on his feet,  though still dazed and confused, stomped hard on Daymond's already broken mess of a nose. Muuh did not bother checking if the man was dead or alive. 

Sunny allowed her to wrap an arm around his neck to stabilise herself, and together they looked onwards to the rest of the main entrance. At the base of the entrance stairs lay two crumpled guards, another falling down the steps – adding to the pile.  

Bog descended the stairs, a used spear in hand with Dawn and the King beside him. From behind them, Muuh heard the wrestling between Pare and the guard stop as Pare stood victorious, Lizzie beside him clutching the sword. When the two groups merged, Lizzie handed the fallen Captain's sword to Pare so that she could embrace the princess, pulling her close into her chest and letting fresh tears stain the royal's gown.

"Muuh?" Bog hesitated, Sunny moving away so that Bog could take her full weight.

"Muuh?" Bog asked again. Muuh watched as his eyes traced over her cheeks, the coldness in them a contrast to the heat she felt in her side. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her take the pressure off her already weak legs. His hand brushed at her side for only a moment, but the pain felt unbearable. Muuh could only watch in horror as Bog recoiled upon touching the wet texture, his eyes widening when he saw his hand smeared with blood.  

"It was Sciurus Bog," Muuh explained with the last of her strength, "He wanted to kill us all, the king... Dawn... me... he sent the men who murdered my mother." 

"Your... mother? Muuh, what-what are you saying?"  

"I am the princess... after all." Muuh chuckled weakly, "but the forest... Bog... he knows... Sciurus... about the Fae. They will come with fire, I need... to warn them... I cannot... let..."  

Muuh's eyes flickered briefly, before closing completely, her body falling limp. Her palm relaxed and from her grip fell the pendant, clattering onto the ground, the central jewel cracking on impact. 

Chapter Text

Bog tenderly stroked Muuh's cheek, her skin feeling cold to his touch.  

If it was not for the weak rise and fall of her chest, Bog would be convinced that she was dead.

And she would be if he did not treat her injuries in time.  

He was still wearing his father's attire, an aged garment, for the only formal clothes he owned were King's guardsmen best and those had been destroyed long ago. He needed to return to his home, gather equipment, warn his mother and most importantly stop the bleeding of Muuh's wound.  

Cradling a limp Muuh in his arms, Bog turned his attention to the stragglers, a beaten King, a terrified Princess, an emotional handmaiden, a bleeding guard and a wide-eyed messenger.  

But he couldn't worry about them – for they were not dying.  

He walked, kicking the spear he had let drop to the ground as he walked past. 

"Where are you going?" Dawn demanded, but Bog did not stop, not until she ran in front of him. "Where are you taking her?!"  

"If her wounds are not treated, she will die. I can only do so much, what she needs is..." Bog did not finish the sentence, for he had no time to explain of the magic of the forest and how it was the only thing he could think of that could heal her. 

"Then we are coming with you-"  

"You cannot."  

Bog thought for a moment the royal was going to scream, shriek and yell at him, but she exhaled calmly, her eyes matching his in a cold stare. 

"I know there is something about Marianne that is different, something I do not understand completely. We love Marianne, we loved her when she was a child and I have grown to love the wildness in her heart now. If what Lizzie has told me is true, then Fairon is no longer safe for us, especially Father and I, the people standing here and the only ones we trust now." 

"You are safe in Fairon, besides, what about your husband?” 

Dawn stayed quiet, her eyes falling on a small trinket lying lonely on the ground behind Bog. She walked over, scooping it in her hands, the cracked jewel shimmering only dimly. 

“Roland is not my husband, nor was he ever meant to be.” Dawn whispered into the locket before turning back to face Bog. “This necklace was a gift he gave Marianne before she, along with my mother..." Dawn swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. "I watched him present her with it at the ceremony before we were separated. If Sciurus is truly our enemy, that could mean Roland is too.” 

The King looked unnerved about Dawn’s accusation but stayed quiet. 

“Besides, you say we are safe in Fairon, how can you be sure?” Dawn inquired, the necklace now in her clenched palm.

“It is the forest they are after now. That is where I must go." 

It was the King's turn to step forward, a limp in his step and his face, wrinkled and bruised showing his age. 

"The forest is nothing but an overgrown mass of land, why would they... Sciurus... want that?"  

"He believes it is something more, that there is-" 

"A heart?" Dawn finished. 

"You know of it?" Bog asked, surprised. 

"It was in a collection of tales... Marianne and I spoke of it just the other day." 

Bog took another look down at Muuh, anger rose within him that he had already wasted precious time. 

Without uttering another word, he continued forward. 

The blonde strode into step beside him. 

"If you follow me, you could be killed. If that happens there will be no heir to the throne." Bog explained.

"What heir would I be if I cannot aid my people?" 

"You are so alike." Bog muttered to himself, tightening his grip on Muuh carefully. 

The others followed, collecting the fallen spear before leaving the grounds and travelling on foot towards the remote shack that lay on the barren outskirts. As Bog led the way, a memory, that felt as if it had never truly occurred, echoed in his mind.

"Hunter, you killed one of your own to save a Fae. Your motives are your own, but we are grateful. Would you do it again?"   

… 

"In a heartbeat."  

*** 

As the lonesome shack came into sight, Bog broke from a quick-paced walk into a full run, he had begun to grow fearful of Muuh's unconscious state.

His legs ached, muscles screaming underneath his skin and his lungs had started to burn, but he kicked at the door with ferocity, yelling at whoever was inside to open up and help.

"Stop your shouting I can hear you-" His mother moaned from behind the door, which only prompted in more kicks and yells.  

"Why are you-" Griselda stopped short upon seeing her son – his arms full of a limp figure, almost drained of life. 

She stumbled backwards so that Bog could enter, her eyes beginning to brim with tears, her frail hand covering her mouth. 

Bog swiped everything off the table, a few drinking cups fell to the floor with a clatter along with a small pile of parchment as he lay Muuh down on its surface. 

Upon hearing the commotion, Shiv and Tien entered from a back room. There were not as shaken as Griselda, for they had seen many a dying soul in their time, but they still acted with caution. 

"Surgical tools Tien," Bog commanded, "do we have anything to hand?"  

"A few things to patch up injuries but... she's pretty far gone..."  

Bog turned, his eyes filling with twisted emotion. "Find some!" He roared. 

Shiv came forward, analysing the body. Her eyes frantically danced from the wound to Muuh's face. 

"We need to remove the dress, while the bodice is tight and holding the wound fairly closed, we need to get to the source."  

Bog hesitated, looking down at Muuh who lay helplessly on the table, remembering her swimming around him in the water, scars covering her body. 

"Do you want me to do it?" Shiv whispered to him, taking his hesitation for embarrassment.   

"No, I will. Get a bucket of water ready, we will need to wash down the skin."

Shiv nodded and hurried out, passing Griselda who still had her back against the door. The rest of the party had arrived, standing outside in the gloom, awaiting instructions to enter, Griselda was too consumed by shock to notice.

Bog crossed the room, placing a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "Mother, I need your help. There was an attack at the palace, a coup. It is not safe in Fairon anymore. Myself and a couple others have escaped, but we need to go." 

Griselda looked up at her son, understanding instantly that 'we' meant her as well. 

"Go... where?" 

"The forest." 

"The forest?!"  

"It will be safer there than here, I cannot promise anything but I know that we do not have much time before they come and burn us out."  

"What did you do?" Griselda said lowly, beginning to jump to conclusions. "What did you do to the King?"  

"He saved me." The King of Fairon explained as he stood in the doorframe, his entourage by his side. 

"The-The King?! Your Maj-" Griselda was mid-bow when he stopped her.

"Please, no need." His eyes fell on Muuh, still and unmoving on the table. "Can you save her? What will you do?" The King asked, directing his attention to Bog.  

"Stitch up her wound, she has already lost a fair amount of blood... I just hope... not too much." 

Shiv, unfazed by the presence of royalty, returned carrying a large bucket, the water brimming and threatening to spill. On top lay a few herbs and leaves collected from the small plot by the stable out back. 

"Let me help with that." Lizzie offered, stepping forward and holding the underside of the bucket.

Tien entered with a variety of tools and lay them on the table beside Muuh, arranging them in size order, small, sharp knifes leading up to larger, menacing cleavers. Needles were also laid out, intricate enough so that they could pierce your heart. A reel of thin wire and thread lay beside the needles also.

"This is all I could find." He explained, fiddling with his goggles that hung loosely around his neck as he eyed the newcomers.

Bog viewed what he was provided, "It should work." He muttered, "Thank you, Tien, now I need you to start gathering supplies. Take as much food, water and tools necessary for travelling to the forest. Prepare the horse too." He turned to the others, their royal clothes dirtied and ripped. "Mother, find clothes for them, their robes will need to be hidden in case they do search the house." 

With an obedient nod, Tien left the room, Griselda following and the others trailing after her. Only Princess Dawn and her handmaiden stayed behind, the King gave a deeply concerned look over his shoulder as he was led into a back room, but Bog could hear his mother's reassuring words comforting him. 

"Dawn, I think you should leave." Bog suggested, knowing that the young royal was going to ignore his warnings regardless.

"I am not going anywhere." The princess muttered, taking Muuh's pale, limp hand and holding it in hers.

Bog nodded, shrugging off his formal jacket and selecting a medium size knife from the table, positioning it on Muuh's bodice and slicing through the fabric, ripping and tearing the material. The bodice gave way, the knife going on to easily cut into the soft, silk of the skirt. The dress, fraying as it broke, now lay on either side of Muuh as if she was a butterfly finally free from her cocoon. The release from her restricted bonds seemed to allow more air into her lungs, but as she breathed in, blood spurted from the gash.

 Bog was never a religious man, for, after everything he had seen and witnessed, he did not understand whom or what was really out there. But, if anyone was listening to him at that moment, they would have heard his only prayer – please, let Muuh live. 

*** 

Many years ago when Bog was a naïve and inexperienced hunter, he had injured himself, his leg caught in a specialised trap. The sharp shards of metal pierced his flesh and bit down to the bone. The pain had been so intense, he remembered blackness eating away at his vision as blood oozed from the wound. 

Fearing for his life, he had frantically tried to open the contraption until his fingers bled. Somehow, miraculous, he freed his leg, pulling it out just as the trap snapped shut a second time.  

While some of the puncture marks were small in size, the metal had pierced the flesh so that it was not simply a hole, but rather a long, jagged, bleeding tear. 

Bog searched the undergrowth around him, patting on the ground carefully, not wanting his hand to be ripped by teeth of metal. He stopped his panicked search when he found a small, dry branch and a rusty needle and thread that had previously fallen from his person. He sat there, panting and sweating as the blood that dripped from his leg mixed with the dry leaves that scattered the ground. 

Placing the dry branch in his mouth, Bog began to stitch up the seeping cut. The needle pierced the skin and dragged the thread with it as it went through the wound and came out the other side. The pain was unbearable, Bog could feel himself become lighter, his vision blurring with every movement of the needle until finally, the gash was closed. 

Bog spat out the branch, the damp taste had lingered in his mouth for weeks after that, the limp stayed for longer. Now a scar ran in an uneven circle on his calf to his shin, a reminder of a procedure he never wanted to do again. 

Yet here he was. 

Princess Dawn’s handmaiden told Bog of how she tried to stop the bleeding, using only what she had to hand. As Bog peeled back the remaining sodden linen and fabric, he realised how dire the wound was. Washing the blood-stained skin revealed the small yet gaping incision, the skin turned up at the edges where the weapon must have been hastily removed with force.  

Bog dropped the rag back into soak in the bucket beside him, the flora still floating on the surface. The herbal remedy was rumoured to soothe and heal, although Bog was reluctant to believe it, he wanted to do all he could to ease Muuh’s pain.  

Selecting the needle and thread, Bog readied himself. He asked Dawn and her handmaiden to hold down the arms, while Shiv the legs - in case Muuh arose from her unconscious state and thrashed about. The princess paled she steadied herself, turning her head away from the gore before her.  

With a calming breath, Bog pierced the skin and slowly began to knit the wound closed. Blood seeped through the gaps between the stitches, but much slower than it had done before. Once the incision was sealed, Bog tied off the thread, securing it and using a clean knife to cut off the excess.  

Ringing the cloth out, bloody water dripping back into the bucket, he wiped down the area once more, careful of the fresh stitching. He secured a gauze over the top, wrapping another bandage around Muuh’s torso to hold the stitching and protective gauze in place.  

“Is it done?” Dawn asked quietly, her fingers running smoothly over Muuh’s wrist and palm. Bog noticed how the princess tried to avoid looking at Muuh's body, not because she was bare, but for the shocking injuries she bore.

“I have done all I can... for now. The sooner we get to the forest, the better.” 

Dawn nodded, but Bog knew she did not understand.  

“For now, we should let her rest.” Bog said, stretching, the bones in his back cracking as he did so. 

“Have you got anything to cover her?” The handmaiden whispered, still embarrassed by Muuh’s nude state. 

“Just the thing.” Griselda exclaimed as she approached, carrying a pile over towards the table. She set it down on a nearby chair, removing a sheet and carefully laying it over Muuh, who remained expressionless on the table, her chest rising and falling to a steady rhythm.  

“Preparations?” Bog inquired. 

“Warm clothes, all the food we can carry... I am not happy with the fact Tien keeps mentioning weapons.” 

“He is right, we will need them. If only for protection and nothing else. The forest is far safer than here, yes, but there are still those who wish to kill us.” Bog took his mother by her shoulders, dropping down so he could be at her height. 

“I never wanted you to be in any danger, that is why I wanted you here with me after father died. I always felt that I could have done more to save him... if I had been quicker, smarter, more aware. I did not want to lose you like I lost him, not like that. If I could, I would have you sent far away, but I do not know who, where or how many enemies there are, and I cannot risk your safety.” 

As he spoke, he saw how truly old his mother had become. Her rich red hair now grey, soft auburn appearing only faintly at the frazzled ends. Her eyes had sunk inwards and surrounding them was deep-set lines brought on by years of worry. 

But, her same old smile was there. The smile that had known hardship and heartbreak and yet, never seemed to falter.  

She smiled now as her eyes filled with tears. 

“Just like your father.” She sniffed, pulling Bog into an embrace that he did not fight. 

He did not know what the future held, but if he could achieve a future where his mother, Muuh, the forest and the Royals were safe, then it did not matter what his own outcome was.  

“Before we go, I’ll make some food.” Griselda said when Bog resumed his fall height, a good couple of heads taller than his mother.  

Before he could argue, his mother finished. “The journey will take a while and we do not know when we will next have a chance to stop, rest and eat. From what you’ve told me, I think we will need all the energy we can muster.”  

He looked around him. Dawn still stood with her handmaiden, worryingly watching Muuh as she lay asleep on the table. Shiv stood to the side, she had gotten a few blood splatters on her clothing, not that she noticed nor cared. Behind his mother, the King stood with the tall, tanned man known as Pare. While the messenger, his son, walked silently up to Dawn and took her hand, a tender moment between them going unnoticed, because with everything that was happening, who knew when they would next get the chance.  

*** 

As the others prepared last-minute inventory checks, Dawn sat down by the table, the small bowl of liquid bringing warmth to her hands.  

The bounty hunter’s mother had not only provided her with a meal, but also with a change of clothes. Her engagement dress had been ruined, not that she cared about the garment, there were much more pressing matters to focus on. 

Dawn quietly tilted the bowl to her lips, letting the soup warm her throat. She was grateful that she had already eaten that evening, prior to the attack at the castle, but she felt shameful that Griselda was sharing the little she had. 

The new dress she had been gifted was one of the most comfortable items of clothing she had ever worn and while it may not have been much to look at, the ability to move and stretch felt so foreign to Dawn, as normally she wore restricting corsets and heavy fabrics. 

Her old dress had been folded and hidden in the earth behind the house, the pendant Roland had gifted Marianne sitting neatly on the top. Her father’s clothes, along with valuables from inside the house were also underground, so if anything did happen to the homestead, at least these items were somewhat retrievable.  

Resting the bowl on her lap once more, she subconsciously ran her fingers over her left hand, feeling the ring that still sat neatly on her finger. Without hesitating, she pulled it off, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.  

Bog had raised the question of Roland earlier; did he know of Sciurus plan? Or was he nothing more than a pawn and he was somewhere imprisoned or worse, dead. 

Dawn had never grown fond of the lord, while she mourned her sister’s death over the years, she noticed Roland’s sinful taste for the fairer sex and increased appearance within the royal court. The news of their marriage had destroyed the little happiness she had left in her heart and with the wedding, the last of her innocence would be put to rest. But after everything that had happened, what would the future hold? When the fires stopped raging and Sciurus was stopped, would she and her father return to their kingdom?  

The fires that ravaged the castle still haunted her mind. Earlier while fleeing, she had looked over her shoulder and saw the flames licking the sky, the palace she had called home for so many years, falling in defeat. 

Then, a negative thought whispered in Dawn’s mind. What if Sciurus was not stopped? What if he found them, tortured them? The destruction of the castle was a public distraction, Dawn knew that. She was certain that Sciurus was aware of her location and that by the time the fires even got to her body, her heart would have already stopped beating.

 A shudder ran down Dawn’s spine. 

She was afraid. 

Afraid, angry, upset and confused. Dawn wanted nothing more than to throw the ring into the fire that burnt dimly in the alcove, let it sit there until it melted or the embers swallowed it. But, no matter how hard her heart pleaded with her to do it, her mind was made up.  

The future, hers, Fairon’s, it was all uncertain and there was a possibility she was to return and continue her mantle, whether or not that meant marrying Roland. For as much as she wanted to believe he was a traitor to the crown, there was no evidence as of yet and a war with neighbouring kingdoms, after an uprising and coup, was something she wished to avoid.  

For a few more moments, Dawn sat there in silence, bowl still on her lap, the warmth now all but gone. The sound of the low, crackling fire and her sister’s steady breathing was her only company. Rotating the ring in her fingers, she decided to keep it safe but placed it on her opposite hand, to show she was not loyal to Lord Roland Highworth, but to her Kingdom and her home.  

“Dawn?” A voice whispered from across the room, the sudden new sound almost surprising her.  

“Sunny.” She replied, picking up the bowl as she stood and setting it down on the chair.  

Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapping around her back and his face pressing into her collarbone. The familiarity of it all stung at her heart. 

Sunny pulled back, his hands finding Dawn’s and their fingers intertwining.  

“I watched you come down the staircase at the celebration, I pretended, that at that moment, you were walking down towards me and you were happy. Happier than I have ever seen you before. Smiling like you used to when we were children, all three of us.” 

“Sunny...” 

“But- but I was ushered along, scolded for not performing my duties and led into a room, locked up for being a nuisance. It was not until my father and Lizzie joined me that I knew something was not right and when the explosion happened... I thought you died. It was like at the announcement, watching you fall and knowing someone wanted to assassinate you. I felt so useless because the one job I wish to succeed in is knowing you are alive and happy.” 

Sunny gripped a little tighter, the warmth of his palms was nearly a sweat, but Dawn did not mind. 

“Then Marianne found us and she... she...” Sunny glanced over at the table, Marianne still had not moved, her face peaceful as if she had not been stabbed and nearly died as a result. 

“I tried not to think what had happened to you, but it did not help, I feared the worst. Then when I saw you, I wanted to hold you, to apologise for not being there with you, for not being more understanding of your status and responsibilities. I wanted nothing more than to hold you like Lizzie was, but I could not bring myself to do so. The rules did not faze me, it was... the fear, that you did not feel the same as me... anymore.”  

Sunny swallowed, his eyes worryingly wandering over Dawn’s face for an indication to cement his concerns. 

“You,” Dawn started, pulling him into an embrace, “will always be my sunshine.”  

“I did not want to die, I'm scared of death because it would take me somewhere that you would not be, and even if I had to watch you and your children grow old that was a far better life than being without you completely. Love is a sacrifice after all.” 

“Love is a sacrifice, my heart belongs to my kingdom and I sacrificed my happiness to secure its stability and future, but I love you and even if we cannot be together, that will not change, regardless of what happens.” 

“You always were the more sensible one out of the both of us.” Sunny mocked with a smile, his hand cupping Dawn’s cheek before letting his arm drop down to his side. “I am sorry... that all this is inappropriate.” 

“Nonsense,” Dawn started to say when the table groaned with weight behind her. Turning, she saw her sister writhing, her fingers' spasming.

“Marianne?... Marianne!” 

Dawn ran to her side, placing the back of her hand to her forehead as she had been instructed to do.

She called for someone, anyone, to help.

*** 

Distant voices echoed far away, near enough to reach out for, but not close enough to grab. 

A soft twinge of pain pulsated on her stomach’s side. 

Muuh recalled the blade piercing her, her attempted escape, Bog’s face before she fell into the darkness, but she could not remember the pain itself. 

As feeling came back to her, she could feel her chest, heavy and sore. She pushed out her fingers, her skin feeling tight as she moved her muscles.  

The voices had become more erratic now, and as Muuh tried to move they intensified. 

Feeling filtered through her face, she tried to open her mouth to speak, but only a mumble escaped her lips, a groan from the pit of her stomach. 

Her eyelids ached, their surface underneath dry and sore. Muuh blinked them open, finding herself in darkness still. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the gloom kept alight by a naked flame.  

As she turned her head, it was as if she was swimming through a thick swamp, her bones fighting against a greater force.  

The bounty hunter was next to her, his eyes level with hers. The oranges of the flames adding something softer to his eyes that perhaps she had not seen before. 

“Muuh?” He whispered softly into her ear, to which she replied with a low grunt.  

He smiled for a second, then the smile was gone, instead replaced with the face of a man who was too proud to show his fear.  

“I am taking you home.”  

Chapter Text

The hasty repetition of gallops and strides caused nausea to overwhelm Muuh’s body, the need to release it was great. 

She stuffed another mesh of dried leaves into her mouth, the bitter taste helping to keep the sickness stay at bay. 

“So, you are the lost princess after all?” Bog had asked just after dawn had broken, the sun brightening up the sky and the land that lay before it. 

Muuh had slept for a majority of the journey so far as they headed towards the forest, Bog keeping an eye on both her, their mount and the rest who followed behind on stolen steeds. 

She had felt exhausted when she had originally come to, lying on a table with Bog by her side, Dawn standing behind him, eyes filled with so much emotion.  

By the time she was fully dressed in her traditional clothing of cloth and hide, her body felt drained, ready to resume slumber in the dark void she had become somewhat accustomed too. 

The muscles in her legs felt tight and painful and a step resulted in a near collapse. Bog had carried her to the horse and she sat slumped on the creature’s back, her fingers entwined into the mane. She whispered, best she could, into the horse’s ear that she was thankful, to which the horse neighed merrily. 

The rest of the horses, now ridden by both Bog’s family and the royal entourage, had been stolen by Tien from somewhere within a rough area of Fairon. He had commented proudly he had done the horses a ‘solid deal’. Shiv laughed, stating that she thought she was the thief. 

Muuh swallowed the last remaining fragments of the leaf and pulled another organic clump from her pouch, the berries, now long dried up combined with the thick grass reminded her of the forest as she chewed. She thought of Bog’s question as the clump disintegrated under her tongue.  

As she thought, memories of Plume came to the forefront of her mind. Memories in which Plume taught her how to swim, climb, to run, walk without being seen. How, as a child, other Fae had once feared her for being different and kept their distance, all except Plume and Impian. Now, they talked to her in their tongue, called her one of their own. She belonged there, that was the home she had always known. 

But now? Everything was different for she could recall fragments of her broken youth. Once she had had a family, who too loved her, who had mourned and grieved for her loss. 

Though she looked like them, she was not like them. 

She was neither human nor Fae. 

So, where did she belong? 

“I am.” was Muuh’s answer. 

Bog remained silent for a while as if he was thinking about what to say next. Muuh realised that this was common practice for him and wondered if that was why he was such a talented hunter. For he understood the importance of patience and precision.  

“Shall I call you Marianne?” He asked hesitantly as if the word felt strange on his lips. 

Muuh shook her head. While her true name had always been on the tip of her tongue, it did not feel as if it belonged to her anymore. As if the true Marianne had died scared and alone all those years ago and Muuh was nothing more than a ghost of that little girl. 

Time passed and gradually Muuh found herself sinking back into sleep, the ease of it almost frightening.  

As she slept, horrifying scenes played in her head. 

It began with her walking in a stream, the water cool against her bare ankles. She laughed at this feeling of pure bliss, kicking freely with her feet so the water sprayed upwards into her face.  

Then, as she laughed, some water landed in her mouth and it tasted off and of iron ore. 

Shocked, Muuh looked down and saw how she was now standing in blood and it seemed to be coming from two wounds on her torso, the red thick liquid running down, dripping and adding to the stream. 

The blood felt as if it was rising, threatening to smother her. Soon she was submerged in her own blood, drowning, the darkness filling not only her vision but her lungs as well.  

From above she heard a distant voice calling her name and instinctively she stretched out her arm as best she could in the congealing ooze.  

With brute force, she was pulled upwards and Muuh could feel the strain on her arm, the bones threatening to break and muscles beginning to tear. As she broke free and pulled onto dry land, she coughed and spluttered, letting the air rush into her lungs. 

She looked up to see Plume, the familiarity of her features causing a surge of emotion in Muuh’s chest.  

Plume opened her mouth to speak, her fangs twinkling in the shadows of her mouth, and then, her neck opened up, a slash dragging across her blue skin as she gurgled on her own blood.  

Blood squirted from the wound as Plume fell to the ground. Her skin started to peel and crack, forming flakes which rose into the void that surrounded them. Underneath her once blue hands, pale knuckles emerged. The white hair that had always touched the ground as she kneeled now shrank back into her scalp, darkening as it did so.  

With shaking hands, Muuh dropped down beside the body, her palms and knees coated in the fresh crimson dampness that soaked the earth around her. She nudged forward, placing her hands on either side of the corpse’s head, lifting it slightly. She dropped it instantly as her birth mother’s dead eyes stared blankly back at her. 

Muuh covered her face with her bloody hands, trying to hide the body from her sight but the image was etched in her mind. She wanted to escape from this place, this tainted memory. 

“Make... it... stop.” Muuh pleaded, clutching at her hair and pulling hard in the hopes it would release her from this hell.  

Mari... Marianne... Mar...  Muuh ... Ma...  

Muuh stopped tensing and listened to the collection of voices, drifting as if they were floating carefree on the wind. 

“Who is there?!” She called out, refusing to remove her hands away from her face. 

We have missed you... missed you... so much  

As the voices called out for her, Muuh felt the urge to look upwards but the terror of the bloody corpse kept her rigid. 

War is coming...  

The voices warned and Muuh slowly parted her fingers. Through the gaps, she saw nobody, just darkness consuming her. She let her hands drop and raised her head upwards, up to where the voices were calling from. 

You are home.  

With a pained gasp, Muuh awoke, the familiar rocking of the horse providing unexplainable comfort.  

“You are awake.” Bog summarised, looking down at her, his eyes drifting to the path ahead and then back down to her in the silence that followed. 

“Voices,” Muuh started with a croak, “was that you?”  

Surprised Bog raised an eyebrow, “I have not spoken a word since you were last awake.”  

Before Muuh could question the things she had heard or what she saw, Bog pointed out ahead of them. It was difficult to see in the gloom of the night, but the start of large trees erupting up from the ground could be seen in the near distance.  

“I am home.” Muuh whispered into the wind, the low breeze whirling through her ruffled hair as if it seemed to agree with her.  

*** 

As the horse’s hooves crunched along the dry earth, Dawn could not settle the knot that twisted in her stomach.  

Her entire life centred around one tragic event that transpired underneath this vast canopy. She thought of her mother, travelling with Marianne in the royal coach before the incident. Her mother would have possibly been staring out the window, watching the trees as they passed, perhaps she too had seen figures dance and weave between the leaves and wondered what lay beyond the thick bramble and bush. 

The group was silent, the only sound being the horse’s rhythm as they entered the narrow track, trees knitting together overhead, blocking out the sun so that only a few rays found their way to the forest floor.  

The feeling of unease continued to grow, a raising anxiety that Dawn was concerned she could no longer ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

Dawn had tentatively watched Marianne and the bounty hunter as they rode ahead on their steed, trying to piece the last few layers of the mystery together. Since returning home to Fairon, Marianne had not been at ease. Dawn noticed the purple hue underneath her eyes from lack of sleep, she also noticed the dried blood inside Marianne’s nose. With the bounty hunter, her sister seemed at mildly relaxed and there was a twinge of jealousy within Dawn.  

But, as she watched her sister, draped in animal skin and hide, she wondered if the ruralness that was within Bog’s blood was the reason they bonded, for he was a man of the wild too. 

These thoughts kept Dawn preoccupied while keeping the darker ones at bay. As she rode, a small gust of wind rustled through her hair, the smell of bark stinging the tip of her nose. Now sunlight was barely breaking through the thick, low branches overhead, the horses’ once speedy gallop was now a slow-paced trot.  

“We need to be on foot.” Bog called over his shoulder, reigning in his steed and turning to face the others.  

“What will we do with the horses?” Someone asked as they clamoured down, but Dawn was not paying attention to who it was. This had been her first-time riding and she was sure that in any other circumstance, she would have been able to enjoy herself and the newfound freedom being out of Fairon’s limits brought with it.  

Her fingers entwined in the horse's mane as she stroked the beast. The horse let out a soft neigh in response to her touch, and she feared for the horses if they were left here. 

Death was following them after all. 

“There is a neighbouring settlement on the other side of the forest if I remember correctly from the castle's maps. If the horses follow the track, then they shall be safe there.” Dawn exclaimed, still focused on the horse and the twitch of its ears.  

Nobody argued nor commented, probably due to the heavy mixture of fear and tiredness that enveloped them all.  

Once they grabbed their supplies and readied themselves on the border to the forest, the horses were released from their reigns and urged to go onwards. As if sensing the approaching danger, they did so, their hoofs leaving indents in the sodden earth as they went. 

As the others turned their attention to the forest, Dawn watched the horses go for a moment longer and secretly wished she could go with them. 

*** 

The forest, from its proportions on the maps she had glanced over, had always covered a large amount of the parchment it was drawn on.  

Dawn knew that it was indeed vast, and she often wondered while she traced her fingers over the depicted fir trees just how vast it really was. 

Now, she climbed over thick roots that soared upwards from the dirt before plunging back into the soil and watched the stray beams of sunlight dance along the forest floor.  

Her fingernails filled with earth as they travelled deeper into the forest, the hem of the dress gifted to her by Griselda was now torn and tattered. Though her feet ached, she felt pity for Bog who had carried Marianne on his back, refusing anyone’s request that they take her weight and let him rest. 

Dawn watched the others, her father struggled with the venture, his breath shallow, cheeks flushed. He had neglected his health for years, it seemed to be catching up with him. Pare, although himself injured supported the King.  

Sunny aided his father but occasionally threw a look over his shoulder to check that Dawn close by. She always returned a smile, as she knew this would keep him at ease.

Lizzie fluttered nearby, finding fellowship in Griselda, their voices were low but a comfort nonetheless. 

Dawn turned her attention back on her sister, who was semi-awake as she clung to the bounty hunter. Bog’s two companions, Shiv and Tien were beside him, muttering back and forth as if in deep discussion. 

Curiosity continued to eat away at her thoughts as did the fear that made her neck sweat when she thought about the royal advisor, about her fiancé, people she was supposed to trust, yet wanted her blood spilt. 

Dawn’s thoughts began to spiral, she heard something a crack from behind her and her heart lurched as she turned, certain it would be a guardsman, spear ready to plunge into her.  

In the sudden surprise, she twisted too fast, lost her footing and fell hard onto the ground, her foot twisted between raised roots as she did so.  

The pain was fresh but gradually died down as she seethed through gritted teeth. Tears surprisingly pricked at her eyes, and through her blurred vision, she could see a small group of birds fly off, soaring upwards through an opening in the branches.

In her moment of blind panic, Dawn had not noticed the others veer off.  

Her heart began to beat faster. Dawn scrambled to her feet, her sore ankle bruised but thankfully not broken. She staggered forward, frantically looking for anyone, but all she could see was tree after tree as if they were embracing overhead, their branches knitted together in union. 

She was about to call out when another louder crack startled her, but she barely had time to move her head when a hand, skin as ice-cold as her favourite stream in winter, covered her mouth. 

*** 

“I can walk.” Muuh groaned as her arms limply hung over Bog’s shoulders. 

“Not in your state.” He countered, knowing that if she applied pressure too soon the stitches would not be able to hold the wound together.  

They continued for a few more steps in silence before Muuh piped up again. 

“I have not had the courage to tell them the truth... of who I am.” 

“From what you told me, it would seem you are not lying anymore, nor were you ever. Your memories were just... buried.” 

“If I told them, told her... they would look at me like a savage.”  

“By now they will know you are something more, regardless of what you tell them, they are your kin.” 

Muuh stayed quiet as she mulled over Bog’s comment. From behind them there was a call, and it was not until Muuh made an inquisitive noise that Bog turned around to see a frantic Sunny, calling out into the wilderness behind them. 

“What are you doing?” Bog hissed, making his way back towards the group. “If someone was following us, they will know our location now-” 

“Dawn, it’s Dawn!” Sunny exclaimed, panic prominent in his dark eyes. “She... she was behind us and... now... oh god, oh god.” 

Worry spread like a wildfire among the group. Dawn's handmaiden, Lizzie, scolded herself for not keeping a closer eye on the princess. An equally concerned Pare and Griselda trying to reassure her.

A knot began to twist and fold in Bog’s stomach, he was so focused on his goal that he had not been paying attention to those who hardly ever ventured outside the city’s walls. Of course, someone would get lost in this vast landscape, he should have been more prepared for that. He should have never allowed the royal company to come with him, it was far too dangerous and if Sciurus had indeed followed them, a war would as well. No one was safe.

Bog tried his best to keep everyone calm in the wake of the youngest princess’ disappearance. As he was instructing the group, he heard Muuh in his ear. 

“Something is here.”  

He stopped instantly, putting a finger to his lips for the group to see. Although they were clearly worried, the sudden instruction to make no noise frightened them. 

There was the distant sound of a branch snapping, silent footsteps edging forward on the mossy earth.  

They had been followed. 

All around them, figures emerged from the undergrowth, their weapons raised, ready to strike.  

Bog held his breath. From where he stood he could see the others not daring to turn around, Shiv and Tien however slowly reached for their weapons, their eyes fixated on Bog, waiting for the command to strike. 

It was then Bog noticed the familiar blue taint of their skin, the stealth in their strides. The Fae. 

One walked forward with Dawn held in a tight headlock, she moved obediently with her captor. Her face was drained of colour, the wetness of her cheeks visible to Bog’s eye. 

He regretted not telling the group about who exactly they would encounter in the forest as he watched the horror unravel on the King's face.

The one holding Dawn grunted, sending the other Fae to take a hold of those they believed to be trespassing.  

“Nobody more nor attack, they are friends.” Bog said sternly when he spotted Sunny also reaching for his weapon. Muuh tried to climb down from his back, but Bog held her firmly in place.  

“Stop moving, you will injure yourself.” He hissed to her, but never took his eyes of the blue figure in front. 

“I know you.” Called the Fae who clutched Dawn. “The bounty hunter, who killed his own to aid the Fae.” 

Bog nodded, to which the Fae responded by removing the large wooden mask that covered its paint coated features with one clawed hand.

A familiar face poked out from underneath, the large eyes, similar to that of an owl if an owl had eyes like scarlet, stared into his.  

He remembered her differently than how she was now. He recalled her, tired from using her strength in a devastating fight and exhausted from carrying her fallen Fae’s weight. 

“Laminae.” 

A faint flash of fangs indicated a smile, before fading back into a stern straight line.  

“What became of Muuh?” She called out to him, still keeping a distance.

Muuh groaned from up on Bog’s back, a thin trail of blood now oozed from her stitches. 

Instructing another Fae to take hold of her captive, Laminae ran over, her hand holding Muuh's back in support as she observed the wound.  

“Did... humans do this?” Laminae asked in a hushed whisper, though it seemed she already knew the answer. 

Bog hesitated, “Yes, by a man who now wants to destroy the forest. We have come to warn you.” 

At the mention of we, Laminae quickly checked over her shoulder, as if realising the intruders were not as dangerous as she had once thought.  

“The forest warned us of intruders. The winds picked up and it was like the trees were crying. It is the sound of approaching death – of war.” 

“Muuh needs to be healed. The others need to know what is coming. Please, Laminae, take us to Nemus.”  

With a heavy sigh, Laminae raised her hand and preformed a gesture which resulted in the Fae’s dropping the humans from their grasps, Shiv snarled as they did so. 

"Some of us wondered if she would ever return, none of us thought it would be like this." Laminae told Bog. "Caput Plume will be furious at your return, you should prepare for the worst."

"Do not worry." Bog stated as he tightened his hold on Muuh so she would not slip, "I already have."

Chapter Text

Laminae fell silent as they crossed through the thick undergrowth, vaulting over roots and branches with ease. 

She led the group, a mix of tired humans and anxious Fae, back towards Nemus. Every so often, she would throw a concerned look over her shoulder at Muuh who drifted in and out of sleep upon Bog’s back. 

At intervals during their route, Laminae would scuttle up the nearest tree, using her claws to dig into the tree’s bark and climb to the highest peak. She told Bog she did this to see if they were being followed, and as of yet, there were no signs of intruders in the forest. 

But both of them knew it would not stay that way for long. 

While they had stopped to rest their feet, Bog laid Muuh down against a boulder, checking the stitches in her wound and giving her something to drink. Laminae jumped down from an adjacent branch, a few leaves twirling down after her as she descended. 

“How is she?” Laminae asked, squatting close to Muuh placing a clawed finger tentatively to her cheek.  

“She’s... holding up. How much longer until we arrive?”  

“At a good pace, it should be before the sun sets.”  

Bog nodded, though Muuh was weak, she was at least stable, a few extra hours would not kill her. He hoped.  

“The humans,” Laminae began as she pushed her short, white hair away from her eyes and tucked the loose strands behind her elongated ears. The small rocks that hung from them jingled as she did so. “Did Muuh trust them?” 

Bog was unsure if she did, for that was her knowledge and feelings alone. But he knew the King and Princess Dawn cared for her deeply, after all, they were her flesh and blood. For the others, there must have been some attachment, as Bog had seen them protecting her at the castle, carrying her as she stumbled into the grand hall. 

“She did. The eldest is her father, the youngest - her sister.” 

Laminae’s wide eyes blinked in rapid succession. “Her... family?” She muttered before letting out a small and abrupt noise of astonishment. “Everyone knows of the story behind Muuh’s arrival in the forest, I was a mere infant Fae at the time, but my brother told me of how they gathered at the pool’s edge, watching Plume carry a human in her arms.” 

“Forgive my abruptness in asking, but, if Plume hates humans so much... why did she save Muuh?”  

One of Laminae’s small fangs bit into her bottom lip and she thought over the question. “What sins have an infant committed?” She asked, “after all, when Muuh arrived she was said to be coated in her own blood, injuries so severe that it was a miracle that her heart could even beat. There is a rumour about Muuh, about... why she is what she is.”  

“Why she is what she is...?” Bog repeated, “what do you mean?”  

“She is not human, and yet, she is not Fae. No human can climb, run, survive, as she can. But her skin is pale, her eyes amber.” 

Bog looked at Muuh who peacefully slept against the boulder, the soft rise and fall of her chest was a minor comfort.

“This rumour?” He pressed, interested. 

“They say the reason Muuh survived was because the forest gave her a piece of its heart.” 

“A piece of its heart?”  

Laminae nodded. 

“What do you mean its heart?" Bog inquired, wondering if it had a connection to what Sciurus was searching for. "What is this heart?” 

“There are things that even you will never be able to truly understand bounty hunter. While you may differ from other humans, you are still one. Do not dwell on this, it is simply because we are unalike. However, I shall explain best I can to you." Laminae took a pause, before reaching out to the tree beside her, her palm pressed up against its trunk.

"Every living being has a heart, be it bird or tree. The forest is a living being, made up of all living beings that surround us. It is said that the first Fae was born from the Great Tree that nestles by Nemus' pool, we ourselves owe our lives to the forest. There is something greater than all of us, something we must protect and give our thanks. The forest is our heart, it gave us life. The water that flows under this earth courses through our veins. The heart is everything. It is the wind that whistles through the leaves, the warmth of the earth, the rain. A piece of this is said to have allowed Muuh to live again, perhaps this is what keeps her alive even now with a wound so severe.” 

*** 

As Bog ventured deeper into the forest, he thought of Laminae’s words. 

Muuh had always been special, there was no denying that. From the moment she was born she was brought into a world of wealth and status, but that was all stripped from her as a child when she vanished, presumed dead. Laminae had said of how Muuh had been discovered coated in her own blood, her injuries severe, it was a miracle that she survived. But what if it was not just simply a miracle? After all, Bog had witnessed it first-hand himself. 

He had swum in that bottomless pool, his wounds should have taken months if not years to heal and yet, here he was as if the initial fall to the forest floor had never taken place. 

Had the forest felt pity for a young princess clinging to the last dregs of life? Had the injuries caused amnesia? Or, was it the forest, believing it better to make her forget the human world she had once come from in favour of this new world where she would be safe. 

These were questions he knew he would never get answered, because just maybe, Laminae was right and that there was something greater than them after all. 

*** 

For the duration of their journey, Bog had said little to no words to the rest of the group, focusing solely on Muuh and his destination.  

As they grew nearer and nearer to the outskirts of Nemus, Bog battled with conflicted feelings. He had initially tried to advise the royal party not to follow him, believing what was coming was too dangerous for them, and yet, in a fear of losing his only family, Bog made his mother join him.  

He knew Griselda had been watching him, he had felt that familiar gaze all his life. He had often wondered what it meant. Was it anger? Regret? Sadness? Now he understood it was simply raw worry. 

Not only did he fear for his mother, he was concerned about Princess Dawn, who after her encounter with the Fae had remained especially quiet. 

They all had. 

It was to expected, a factor he had ignored in his small thoughts. When he first laid his sights on the Fae, he had acted in a similar manner. 

“How do you know them?” A voice asked from beside him.  

Bog jolted slightly in surprise, not noticing how the Princess had fallen into step beside him. 

She hobbled with each step she took, her breathing slightly heavy. 

“I came across the Fae when you sent me to search the forest for your sister.” Bog answered truthfully, seeing no reason to hide anything anymore. 

“The... Fae? Is that what they call themselves?” 

Bog nodded. 

“I have never seen anything like them. Are they... gods?” Dawn asked, whispering the last word as if she was embarrassed by the notion.  

“No, they believe themselves to be more like protectors of the forest.” 

“I see.” Dawn acknowledged, trailing off and getting lost in her own thoughts. After a few brief moments, she spoke. 

“Marianne was not living alone was she? When she was out here.”  

“No.”  

“So, the Fae found her. They... raised her?”  

“Yes.”  

“That explains... an awful lot.” Dawn said with a weak grin. “There is still so much about her that I do not know.” 

“I feel that it is not my place to tell you, it is hers.”  

Dawn nodded understandably. “Yes, but who knows when that chance will be? After all, war is coming, as much as we wish that was not so.”  

“I am sorry.”  

“Why are you apologising? No bounty hunter is supposed to be apologetic.” 

“I am sorry that grief has followed you all your life, yet you got no say in which road you walk.” 

“Grief follows everyone Bog,” Dawn explained as they approached to where Laminae had stopped just short of a dense thicket, “it is whether or not we let it slow us down while we walk, that matters.” 

“I hope you become Queen one day Dawn, Fairon would be better off with a ruler like you.”  

Dawn looked up at him, her blue eyes seemed tired, but nevertheless shimmered as he spoke those words.

“I hope so too.” She whispered. 

*** 

Bog could hear the gasps of his fellow comrades as they pushed through the undergrowth and were greeted with the exotic view of Nemus.  

Though Bog knew he once walked on this mossy earth, it felt like a distant dream, like such a place could not exist.  

Muuh was coming too upon his back, her eyes flickering before adjusting. 

“We made it.” Bog whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

She smiled weakly and managed to mumble a grateful 'thank you’. 

A gathering of Fae could be seen on the opposite side of the pool that marked the centre of Nemus, the water was still and reflective as if it was made of glass. 

As they approached, Bog could make out a few, familiar faces. 

The large Fae that had once carried him when his injuries had made him unable to walk stood beside a fierce looking hunter whose scowl was prominent in the flickers of setting sunlight that broke in from overhead.  

Along with Augu and Bruta, Wrenn, the young female Caput, stood watching the newcomers' approach, her weapon was fasted to her back, her claws calmly by her side. Behind her, Caput Bruta grew more agitated.  

Wrenn took a step forward, her stride wide and intimidating. “Laminae, you have returned with humans. We received your message from the runner you sent, the elder Caputs have been notified and are awaiting their arrival.” 

Laminae bowed her head respectfully.  

“Is it true Muuh is with them?” Wrenn asked, her tone unnervingly calm. 

“Come forward.” Laminae instructed to Bog, who broke away from the group and stood in front of the authoritative Fae. 

“The bounty hunter...” Bruta growled in the background, but Wrenn promptly ignored him. 

Without saying a word, Wrenn inspected Muuh’s wound, noting the makeshift stitches and the small amount of bleeding that had occurred en route.  

“Plume will be able to heal her, she did so once before. Come, we must hurry.” Wrenn turned and lead the way into the clump of knotted roots that lay at the base of the colossal tree that towered up from out the earth.  

As Dawn and the others obediently followed, Laminae and the Fae that travelled with them stayed behind, awaiting orders from Bruta, before he too, ventured underneath the tree.

The space underneath the tree was cool and it took a moment for Bog eyes to adjust to the gloom, the flora that thrived in the earth emitting their pale glow, highlighting the markings along the walls. 

As they approached, they saw Plume standing on the painted circular spiral that covered the entirety of the floor. Her lengthy, white hair fell behind her and her piercing crimsons eyes found them in the dim light.  

Impian was seated behind her, his withered face barely noticeable in the strands of white that cascaded from his scalp.  

“Bounty hunter.” He greeted, rising to his feet.  

“Let me see her.” Plume commanded, taking Muuh from Bog’s back and lying her on the floor. Though a part of him felt anger towards the elder Fae, he knew she was the only one who could heal Muuh, though, after what Laminae had told him, it was not Plume’s doing, but the forests. 

They waited in silence as Plume examined Muuh’s injury, tracing the stitches with a clawed hand as if she was thinking of cutting the wound open once more. 

At one point, Muuh who was still in her dosed state reached up and grabbed a single clawed finger. The flash of emotion on Plume’s face was enough to know that the two shared a deep connection. 

“Impian, I must take her to the water.” Plume stated.

Impian gestured in acknowledgement, the stones tied into his mane clanking as he did so. 

“Wrenn, come, we must prepare the clay.” With a bow to Impian, Wrenn scooped Muuh into her arms with ease and followed quickly on her elder’s heels. 

“Where are you taking her?” Dawn questioned, concern easy to read on her face. Griselda in an act of comfort placed her aged hand on hers and whispered something reassuring.  

The chamber once again fell quiet before Impian beckoned them closer. 

“As the trees grow older with each passing year, so do I. With age, my sight becomes less keen, yet my sense of smell is as strong as the Great Tree itself. Though my tired eyes may fail me, I can sense who you are. I once smelt loneliness from you hunter, now, it is something else, something sweeter, something pure. The others, the fear, the worry, the longing, the desperation stings at my nostrils, and yet...” Impian let his gaze fall on Dawn, whose hand was now wrapped tightly in Sunny's grip, “I sense hope.”  

“War is coming.” Impian continued, sinking back into his throne of twisted branches and leaves, “the forest whispers its fears with each new gust of wind. It feared your arrival, but still it let you pass. As much as I do not want this battle to commence, the forest knows it must be so. It spoke of you all, a leader and heir of a falling kingdom and their supporters. It also spoke of a distant memory it hoped it could forget, of how a young girl fell to its floor, her blood soaking its earth. The forest told me the true tale of Muuh, of who she truly is, and the consequences that she would enviably bring upon us all.”  

“Do you know when they will come?” Bog asked, referring to Sciurus and whatever men he had managed to band together to wreak destruction. 

“When the moon sets in a days' time, they will bring fire and burn Nemus to the ground. We tried to keep our existence as a distant myth, but, it seems it was a hopeless endeavour. The man who brings the fire is the man who seeks the heart of the forest and he too was once saved by it."

“Sciurus?” Sunny queried to which Impian nodded. 

“The forest traveller!” Dawn exclaimed, surprised even at herself. “The man who lost himself in the woods and vowed that he was being watched by creatures with red eyes.”  

“The Fae have longed kept themselves hidden, but this is not always the will of the forest.” Impian commented, “I remember the dweller well, while I could sense the curiosity, it was the stench of loneliness I truly remember.” 

Bruta, who had remained so quiet that Bog almost forgot he was present, spoke up. 

“This Sciurus is why humans should not know of us, they pose danger, their greed consumes them.”  

“For years we believed this Bruta, but perhaps... we have been wrong.” 

“With all due respect Impian, what do you mean?” 

Impian lifted a darkened, clawed finger and extended it towards Dawn.  

“Come forward, Princess Dawn of Fairon.”  

Dawn let her hand drop from Sunny’s after a moment of hesitation and stepped forward to stand in front of the two Fae caputs. 

Bog watched as the princess bit her lip, her eyes hovering between the Fae's faces. He wondered if she was frightened of them, if she was, he was certain Impian could smell it off her. Perhaps she was not, for now, she knew that these ethereal creatures had cared and raised her sister, and it was them she owed thanks. 

Bruta narrowed his eyes at Dawn, staring at her intensely before shifting his gaze to look at Impian who sat beside him.  

“Do you know who this is Bruta?” Impian inquired. 

Bruta frowned as if sensing this was a trick question. At the lack of his answer, Impian chuckled softly, which turned into a mellow cough.  

“She is many things. An heir, A noble, a dreamer. More importantly, she is Muuh’s blood sister.”  

Bruta’s eyes widened, “So, Muuh, this whole time... heh.” Bruta trailed off into a chuckle, crossing his arms and leaning backwards. “The bounty hunter was right after all.” 

Bog felt a smugness overcome him but refused to let it show.  

“Dawn,” Impian began, “The forest sensed great woe within you, the loss that you carry in your heart, for your fallen family, your freedom-” 

As the aged Fae spoke, the King, who had been overwhelmed by all he had seen until this point looked to his youngest daughter, the daughter he had left behind in his bitter despair. He had failed to watch her grow into the young woman she now was as he withered away behind closed doors. The old, wrinkled, mythological being had only met her for a moment, and he had seen more in her than her own father had. 

Ashamed of himself, the King hung his head. 

“While you may feel sorrow, it is within you I sense the greatest amount of hope, and that is what we need, for whatever the outcome of this war will be.”  

Dawn slowly nodded and stepped back into the group, she caught sight of her father, his eyes glassed over with fresh tears and without a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him and he did the same, cradling her head like he had done when she was a small child. 

No words were exchanged, but the gesture spoke loud enough.  

“Bounty hunter,” Impian chimed. “While I know you will fight alongside us, I cannot let these humans risk their lives for a battle they will surely die in.” 

“We cannot just do nothing!” Shiv countered, speaking out for the first time. Her annoyance splattered on her face for all to see, she marched up to Bog, ferocity in her eyes. “I owe you my life, I have followed you and worked with you since you freed me. I could have left at any time, but I did not. I will not leave you now either, not when you, this... place need us. You sometimes have to fight for those who do not have a voice.” 

“What happens if they do burn the forest? We will all die too.” Sunny added, “I will fight.” 

His father, Pare, put a stern hand on his son's shoulder. “You will not. If your mother was still alive she would have beaten you for saying something so stupid. You will not risk your life out there, not when there are...” He glanced at the princess, “...others who need you.” 

“But I will go if you will have me bounty hunter, I have seen many a good, warm summer. If it is my time, so be it.” Pare said with a distant yet optimistic smile.  

“I am honoured you would want to fight by my side, but Impian is right, the risk is too great. Though we do not know our enemy, yes, they for certain do not know this terrain. The Fae will be fast and fierce, if we can surprise them, then we could have a victory. Besides, not all the Fae will be capable of fighting, some will remain, they will need protection.” 

“The second line of defence.” Shiv muttered before sighing, “well, at least it means my knife may see some action.” 

“Let us hope it does not come to that.” Bruta acknowledged, rising to his feet, the ceremonious stones softly swaying from his ears. 

Impian joined him, slowly getting to his feet, his skeletal features illuminated by the fungi and flowers that sprouted from the earthy walls. “There are many preparations that need to be made. Bruta, gather every able-bodied Fae and prepare them for the oncoming battle, the rest will seek refuge alongside the humans here, within the Great Tree.” 

“When they ask of what is happening, what shall I tell them?” 

“Tell them, we are at war.” 

*** 

In an instant, her body became light, the heavy pain that had once burned her side now eased as she sunk beneath the crystal surface of the water.  

Even though her eyes were closed, Muuh could feel everything that surrounded her. The sheer quietness of the watery void in which she slowly drifted down into, the wound on her side opening up. 

She did not need to open her eyes as even in the darkness she could sense the stitches fraying, undoing and coming away from her wound, until it was free and stayed afloat in the water, speckles of blood joining it as Muuh continued to sink.  

It was then the Forest spoke to her.  

Chapter Text

The air was still and stagnant as if all life was waiting for a war that would change all they had ever known. 

Bog could only hear his heartbeat, pulsating loudly in his chest. It rung in his ears, the rhythmic thump surprisingly steady.  

Undeniably, he felt fear. It pricked at his fingers and itched his feet, but he dared not move from his position on the ridge.  

Joining the King’s Guard was supposed to bring him meaning and purpose, to bring pride to his family and name. Yet, he had not felt like a man within those ranks, just another nameless face sent to do the bidding of those who did not care for anyone but themselves. 

A thought crossed Bog’s mind as he waited on the border of the forest. If life had turned out differently, would he be just another guard in the royal army currently marching into a bloody battle? 

Bog tried to not let his mind become overwhelmed, but thoughts of young men who believed they were serving a purpose, were marching towards them and their blood would soon be split. Mothers would cry for the loss of their sons, wives would grieve. All because of one man’s greed. 

“Are you scared?” Laminae whispered from her position next to him. 

“No.” Bog answered. He was not sure if this was a lie or the truth. His feelings were conflicted, but this battle was worth it, now he had something, or someone, to fight for. 

“Death is simply a part of life; the forest has already decided the outcome for this battle.”  

Bog turned to look at the young Fae, who was decorated like each of the Fae were who lay ready on the front line.  

In preparation for the War for the Forest, all able-bodied Fae were coated with blue markings; swirls, lines and patterns on various parts of their bodies – all protective charms. Their clothing was made from thick animal hide, which they hoped would repel arrows long enough to get in and make a kill before succumbing to any devastating injuries. 

Their weapons, a collection of daggers, spears and axes were sharpened on the very rocks they were formed from. The infamous wooden masks were pulled down over their faces, the thick bark added another protective layer while the carved eyeholes allowed the Fae’s red irises to glisten in the darkness, a fear tactic for when their position was given away and the battle had commenced. 

Over his shoulder, Bog could hear the soft approaching footsteps of Caput Bruta, who was leading the assault. Caput Wrenn, acting as a second in command was overseeing the Fae positioned on the North West side of the forest, while Bruta’s warriors waited on the northern bank which looked down into the valley below by only a small drop. 

While Sciurus had attempted reconnaissance missions by sending scout parties out into the vast woodland to record the outer perimeter and other details, it would seem they did not have as much information as they might have wanted, due to the men either being spooked or killed by the Fae in self-defence. Bog was grateful they had, something greater, on their side. The forest knew both when the army was coming and from where. But aside from that, the rest was up to them.  

Bruta took a knee near Laminae, his kin not even flinching at his sudden, quiet appearance. 

“Sightings have begun, the flicker of fire can just be seen upon the horizon. When they reach the bottom of this valley, we shall attack, allowing Wrenn and the other Fae to surprise from the back.”  

Laminae nodded and gripped her spear a little tighter. 

The act of waiting had been a part of Bog’s life since he was a child. Though he was stubborn and hot-headed, his craft required patience. You could not hunt a rabbit if you did not wait until the right moment. However, for him, knowing that soon an army, with death on their minds and blades at the ready would march and unleash destruction, made him feel uneasy. He wondered how the others would feel, how scared they must be.  

When the fighting Fae were preparing to leave Nemus, Bog had stolen a last, longing glance. He could see a small group, made up of infant Fae, barely tall enough to reach his knee and a few elderly Fae, their white hair swaying around their ankles as they were ushered into the base beneath the Great Tree along with his mother and comrades. 

He had also seen Plume, who sat by the water’s edge. A clay-covered Muuh nestled beside her, her clothes remained on but her feet were bare. 

Now, Bog too gripped his own weapon, the sound of heavy footsteps and the clanking of shields and metal grew closer. He lay in the earth, the thick bushes and shrubs hiding him from sight. To his left Laminae waited, perfectly still watching the movement in the valley below.  

The sky was moments away from daybreak, the flicker of the sun beginning to stretch up from the horizon. It was then Bog saw the first signs of both enemy and fire. A horde of King’s Guards marched as one, their weapons unholstered and aimed.  

Their royal crests gleamed in the sun’s new rays that broke across the landscape. With the light, Bog could see now that only some wore the King’s symbol, while some had mismatched armour as if they had not known they were being thrown into a war. 

Some of these men did not even have helmets, their hair flowing behind them as they marched onwards.  

Bog shifted his eyes to see Laminae readying herself, her body arched over and ready to pounce on the unsuspecting men. The Fae to his right doing the exact same.  

A gentle gust blew through the tree’s above him, causing a few leaves to fall from their branches. As if the forest had issued its order, Bruta roared from behind and the Fae leapt onto the men below.  

The Fae were fast and agile and by the time Bog had gotten to his feet, the battle had already begun. He tightened his grip on the spear he was gifted, still longing for his trusty crossbow and jumped. The drop to the battleground floor was short and as he hit the floor he rolled, getting to his feet and sprinting.  

Screams and shouts filled the air and his ears felt as if they were burning. A heavily armoured man ran at him with weapon raised, thrusting the sword forwards which Bog narrowly dodged, driving his own weapon into the man instead. Combining a pull with a kick, Bog pulled the spear out and pressed onwards, smashing into a few troops as he did so.  

He had not run more than a few yards when he was rammed in the side. The heaviness of the solid shield sending him off his feet and slamming backwards, rolling over bodies that now lay lifeless on the floor. Dazed, Bog scrambled to his feet just as a spear was plunged into the ground where he once was. Taking the opportunity while the soldier was trying to free his weapon, Bog sent a fist into the man’s exposed temple, who crumpled, smashing into the dirt by the fatal blow. 

From where he stood, Bog now had a clear view of the horizon and the catapults that were positioned there, waiting - ready to fire.  

Fear took a hold of him, he had not thought that the enemy would use catapults, he was not even aware that Fairon had such weapons at its disposal. If those were loaded, coated with fire and aimed directly for the trees, the flames would quickly spread and Nemus would fall. The catapults had to be stopped. 

Frantically, Bog looked around the battlefield and he saw Bruta’s mask amidst the choas, the heavyset Fae driving off several attackers in the distance. Snatching up his fallen weapon, Bog ran for the Caput, leaping over fallen bodies of both humans and Fae.  

“BRUTA!” Bog bellowed, trying to get the attention of the hunter. 

Hearing his name, the Fae looked over, a splatter of blood glistening on his leather-bound arms.  

“THE CATAPULTS!” Bog pointed to the horizon, “WE NEED TO STOP THE CATAPULTS FROM FIRING!”  

As soon as the words left Bog’s mouth, a large segment of rock flew through the air and smashed into the earth just shy of the tree line, flattening whoever was unfortunate enough to be underneath it.  

Without wasting another moment, Bog raced forwards. It seemed the Fae had managed to overpower the first line of attackers, but the second wave was incoming and they had heavy artillery.  

Arrows whizzed past Bog’s ears as he dropped to his knees to avoid being hit. As the archers reloaded, Bog and the rest of the Fae warriors ran to meet them, driving their knives and axes into their enemies' throats. In the panic, some archers released their grips and arrows fired at random, one piercing the mask of the Fae in front of Bog, sending them back onto him.  

As he was knocked back onto the earth, the air rushed out of his lungs, the weight of the Fae on top of him slowly smothering him. Using his upper body strength, Bog managed to push the Fae off of him, to see that it was an unconscious Laminae, segments of broken wooden mask scattered around her. 

“Laminae!” Bog cried, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently in a bid to get her to wake up. The young Fae’s eyes flickered before slowly opening, a dazed expression on her face. 

Her eyes then widened with fear and she screamed as another boulder hurtled towards them, narrowly missing them and plummeting to the earth behind, dirt and debris spraying up into their faces. 

“Can you stand?” Bog coughed, wiping mud from his eyes and helping Laminae to her feet, handing her a spear that he pulled from a nearby corpse. 

“I can fight, that is enough.” 

“Head for the catapults. We need to stop them before those boulders are coated with fire.”  

Laminae nodded to show she understood and pulled free a stained shield that lay dented on the ground, presumably for added protection now that her mask was gone.

Drawing nearer to the catapults, it was clear Wrenn’s assault was a success, the troops towards the back were either slain or deserting. The men manning the catapults were slowly becoming overpowered by the sheer ferocity the Fae fought with.   

Reaching the base of one of the catapults, Bog tried to figure out how the contraption worked and if he could use one to destroy the others. But there seemed to be no way to turn it without manpower and Bog knew he did not have time to do that. Ropes were in place to secure the catapults down to their positions, if the rope could be cut, it would topple the construction, sending it into the one next to it and create a chain reaction.  

Using his spear’s tip, Bog frantically sawed away at the rope’s thickness, the rope only fraying slightly. 

From behind him, he heard a roar as an unarmoured man raised a knife and brought it down, the blade skimming Bog's cheek and into the wooden beam that held the secured rope excess.

The blade was stuck in the wood for only a moment until the man pulled it free, splinters falling to the ruined earth.  

He charged at Bog, who readied his own weapon, but the blow never came as a spear went through the man’s chest in one clean sweep, his face looking down at the tip that penetrated out from his abdomen before he stopped moving altogether.  

As the man hung suspended just slightly off the ground, Bog recognised the now lifeless face. He was one of the ringleaders Bog had jailed when he had brought down the criminal ring that had kidnapped Shiv when she was just a child. It seemed Sciurus wanted the numbers within his army raised and used those within Fairon’s cells to do it. 

“Too slow.” Laminae grunted, pulling free the spear before throwing Bog the man’s knife which had fallen to the ground. “We must cut the ropes?”  

“The weight should send this one falling, they cannot operate on their side.”  

Together they slashed wildly through the rope until one after the other began to snap at the weight of the catapult which slowly tilted before falling rapidly, crashing into the one positioned nearby. For a moment Bog thought the weight of the catapult alone would not be enough to set off the reaction, but the impact broke the ropes and sent another construction toppling over. 

Shouts and cries filled the air as heavy weapons of warfare fell, laying waste to whatever lay underneath them.  

The catapults were rendered useless, but it was too early to celebrate. As Wrenn’s Fae’s clambered over the toppled towers, they helped drive back the remaining men on the battlefield. Wrenn too joined them, bleeding from her lip with a couple of bad open wounds on her right shoulder, but the Caput was still able to fight, using her claws to slice open the skin between a man’s helmet and chest plate. 

Laminae and Bog joined too, weaving and dodging numerous attacks. With spear in one hand and dagger in the other, Bog was able to block and attack up close. As more men fell, he felt as if victory could be possible. As he ran forward to aid other Fae in battle, he was pulled off his feet by a man who Bog had believed to be dead. The man grinned as he rose to his full height, his mouth full of blood that dripped down his chin. He had clearly gone insane.  

He kept Bog pinned as he reached for his sword, Bog kicking free just before the man swung. The blade swiped at the air as Bog pulled himself backwards, struggling to get away. The man continued to slash away with his sword, the blade slicing down into the ground inches away from Bog’s feet.

Bog pushed himself upwards, managing to get onto his feet before dodging another erratic blow that sent him falling over the countless bodies that now littered the landscape. 

The Berserker went for him, grabbing the hilt finally with two hands and reading a strike, aiming for Bog’s head when a figure stepped in front and took the blow. 

At first, all Bog could hear was the high-pitched scream Laminae shrieked as she jumped onto the man from behind, driving her dagger repeatedly into the man’s eye, causing him to finally fall down to the ground – dead. The figure who had taken the hit buckled at the knees and crashed to the ground. 

Bruta’s spear lay broken, slashed in two beside him. 

Along with his arm. 

Bruta had tried to defend both himself and Bog with the spear, but the sword had split the wooden handle with ease and cut through Bruta’s skin and bone just as easily. 

In shock, Bog crawled to Bruta, who lay bleeding out. Laminae screamed, using her own hands in desperation to stop the river of blood.  

Bog barely heard Wrenn who now knelt beside them.  

“Go.” She commanded Bog, but he refused to move. He couldn’t move. He had seen many a horror before but it should have been him that lay on the floor, and yet, Bruta had taken the blow for him and was paying with his life. 

“Before the battle, I was given the word that a small group of humans were sighted entering the forest from the East, I have not heard from the Fae I positioned there since. There is nothing you can do here, but go, find them and stop the humans.”  

Bog looked down at Bruta, who was still conscious, but presumably not for long. 

“Go, bounty hunter!” 

And so, he did. 

*** 

“Blast this bloody woodland!” Captain Daymond cursed as he cut through the dense leaves and overhanging branches with his sword. “It all looks the same, it would be easier just to burn it down.” 

The few men that had been selected by Sciurus himself for this trek into the forest mumbled in agreement. 

“If you burn the forest down while we are still inside, how do you suppose you will get out alive, Captain?” Sciurus asked, no expression showing on his face. 

“The troops are using fire, they have bloody catapults to hurl boulders of flaming rock, those are bound to hit the forest eventually.”  

“If you kept a closer eye on your military inventory Captain, you will know that we do not have the capability to light the boulders on fire, the fires the men are holding are merely a scare tactic. You would be aware of this Captain if you performed your job efficiently.” 

Shamed, the Captain grunted to himself but pushed onwards nevertheless. 

A few times he stumbled, losing his footing to the roots and rocks that scattered the earth.  

Sciurus took great pleasure in watching him struggle. 

“Careful Captain, would not want to break that nose of yours again.”  

The Captain of the Royal Guard had always had a short fuse for when it came to people challenging him, but Sciurus was in a higher position of power – and a madman.  

“Some advice or direction as to where we are going would be incredibly helpful Sciurus.” 

“Straight on Captain.”  

“Straight on has got us nowhere! At this rate, we could fall off of-” 

One of the men from their troop let out a wet gasp before falling face down into the earth, a spear embedded in his back.  

Daymond leaned closer to get a better look, “what in the-” 

Something leapt from the trees above and drove a weapon into another of Sciurus’ men before jumping back into the darkness of the thicket.  

The three who remained all instinctively took a step backwards, their backs nearly touching.  

Beside Daymond, the man who survived began fumbling with a chain around his neck and muttered a ramble of several phrases.  

It was then two piercing screams echoed out from around them as from two sides they were attacked. The muttering man did not last long as Daymond dodged a blow, the knife striking the man and sending him crashing down to the floor where he lay with his fallen comrades. 

Daymond brought up his sword to block and drove the attacker back with full force. From behind him, Sciurus was too being attacked, but he had managed to gain the upper hand. Driving a small concealed knife into the attacker's side, as they stumbled from the shock, the attacker’s knees buckled and they hit the ground, barely conscious.  

The Captain’s attacker was fast and fierce and with a lucky blow, Daymond managed to slice open the attacker’s stomach, a fatal hit that caused his attacker to move no more. 

“Brilliant. Now my sword is stained.” Daymond moaned, inspecting his kill and realising... it was not quite human.  

Cautiously he pried off the wooden mask that concealed the face, only to drop it moments later at the sight of a blue corpse, red eyes open but glazed over. 

“I-I, What- What is this?”  

“It is what we have been looking for Captain.” Sciurus calmly stated behind him. The Captain whipped around to see Sciurus leaning over one of the creatures who tried desperately to crawl away from him, only for Sciurus to gently press his foot on the creatures’ free arm that was not holding its bleeding side. 

“Where is the heart?” Sciurus asked, his voice eerily still.  

The creature screamed and tried to pull its hand away from beneath Sciurus’ shoe, but as it struggled, Sciurus applied pressure, the bones beginning to snap. 

“I have always hated asking twice. The heart?”  

Still, the creature gave no response, its cries were becoming weaker and more desperate. 

“I am disappointed, and here I thought you were immortal fearsome beasts.” 

Surprisingly, Sciurus took his foot away from the creature's arm. At its second of freedom, the creature crawled forward before pulling itself up and began to limp away.  

Sciurus watched the creature for a moment before turning to Daymond. 

“Captain, your sword.”  

Without hesitation, Daymond handed over his tainted weapon. With composure, Sciurus took two strides, catching up to the wounded creature and forced the sword through its back, piercing its torso and emerging from the other side. As the creature fell, Sciurus pulled free the sword, letting it dangle from his grip, a quiet demand for Daymond to take back his weapon. 

Cautiously Daymond reached for the sword but dared not put it back in its sabbath. “It's blue... it's not human...” 

“For once Captain, you are quite right, these are not human. They are a minor nuisance that are in the way of our goal. They will, however, lead us exactly where we wish to be.”  

“How can they lead us anywhere if they’re dead?”  

“The thing crawled forward did it not? A wounded animal will always try to retreat to someplace safe, and for these-” Sciurus kicked the body with his shoe, “that safe place is where we want to be.” 

Sciurus began to walk forwards, a fearful Daymond following him. The mad advisor had promised him riches, the likes of which he had ever seen. He wondered if that was what he had also promised Lord Roland, he could not remember the last time he had seen the young noble. 

In the distance, a clearing emerged. It was different compared to the rest of the wilderness they had ventured through, more open with tree’s blocking out the overhead sky entirely.  

A large body of water sat in the centre and it was this that made Sciurus smile. 

“Finally.” He purred, but then caught sight of a figure who was kneeling beside the pool, looking longingly into the water. “Captain, you still have your crossbow, correct?” 

“Of course.”  

“Then use it to dispose of that vermin.”  

Daymond obeyed his orders. He did not care for these creatures, even though they were like nothing he had ever seen before. Inwardly, he only cared for himself and did not want to end up like Lord Roland or worse, the royal family. Sciurus was already displeased with his performance at the castle, now was his chance to impress and survive. 

He pulled the crossbow from his back, inserting a metal bolt and lining up his sights on the figure. The creature, older than the ones they had slain earlier, sat so still that with this one shot, Daymond would be able to fire and pierce the small gap right between the eyes.  

Daymond waited a moment, letting his chest rise and fall, and then, as he breathed out, he fired.  

*** 

“First blood has been spilt.” The forest echoed through the water as Muuh continued to drift in the abyss. 

She looked to her side and noted that her wound was slowly healing, the skin knitting itself back together but still she sunk. 

“More come.” The voiced warned. 

Muuh could not speak, for if she did water would fill her lungs and she would surely drown. She lacked the energy to swim, so all she could do was listen to the strange, familiar voice and sink down and down.  

“He is coming.”  

Muuh felt her eyelids sting, the encroaching darkness enveloping her. 

“ Muuh , he is coming.”  

She was sinking, further and further and further... 

“MUUH!”  

The voice’s aggression knocked her out of her trance and in her sudden shock she gasped, the water flowing down into her. With a splutter and need for air, Muuh kicked her legs and swam upwards, pushing the water behind her as she reached out for the light that glistened through the surface of the pool.  

When she broke the water, her body stung but not like the pain she had felt before. As she inhaled, the clean air she once knew was replaced with the stench of death.

Of iron, of blood.  

Plume, who was waiting by the bank, rose to her feet and took a few steps forward, relief washing over her face as Muuh raced towards her.  

The voice had warned her that he was coming, she had to warn Plume, warn the others- 

Above her head, a metal bolt flew through the air. 

It found its target. 

The bolt struck Plume who let out a piercing screech, the impact sending the elder Fae tumbling to the ground. 

Chapter Text

As soon as the bolt collided with Plume's blue skin, Muuh was racing to get to the pool’s edge.  

Finding the strength within herself to close the distance, Muuh splashed frantically in the water, kicking her legs in a desperate attempt to get to Plume who had now fallen to the forest floor.  

Plume’s initial screech had been ear piercing, but now, she was silent - writhing on the ground with no sound escaping her lips. 

As she approached the pool’s edge, Muuh threw herself upwards on the small ridge using the new-found strength in her arms and clambered to her feet, running the rest of the short distance, her hair soaking wet, sticking to the sides of her face as she sprinted. 

Muuh slid next to Plume, falling to her knees in dismay. The bolt had pierced Plume’s shoulder but had not gone through. Plume, her fangs biting down into her lip, had already grasped at the metal with her clawed fingertips and with a final inhale, she pulled out the bolt, its tip soaked with her blood. 

Instinctively, Muuh placed her hands to the wound to stop the weeping. As she did this, another bolt pierced the ground just shy of them. She glanced to where the weapon was aimed from and spotted a gleam in the tree line just in time. Jumping backwards, landing on the balls of her feet, Muuh had missed the third bolt, which had instead struck the ground where she once kneeled.

Muuh turned her attention back to the motherly Fae, hooking her hands underneath Plume’s armpits, the action causing the elder Caput to hiss in pain. As fast as she could, she dragged her behind a tree that was large enough to provide them with cover.  

Unhooking her bloody hands from Plume, she positioned her against the thick trunk.

Plume’s breathing was erratic, her eyes manic and long white hair tangled. 

Risking a look, Muuh edged her head away from the safety of the tree, a familiar glimmer shone in the tree line and another metal bolt struck the trunk, a faint string of cursing could be heard across the quiet green.  

As she turned back around, Muuh could see a few red eyes in the shadows beneath the Great Tree, not far from their hiding spot. With caution the Fae stepped forward, beckoning both Plume and Muuh too them.  

But Muuh shook her head. 

She knew that whoever was firing at them from the treeline had them in their sights. If both of them attempted to make it to safety, there was a chance that either, or both of them, could be killed. 

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Muuh squatted beside Plume and took the knife that was secured on her aged belt. As she pulled the sharp dagger free, a cold, weak hand rested on top of hers. 

Plume did not have the strength to speak, after all, she had fought hard in her youth, an elder Fae, if they were to make it to such a grand age, were used solemnly for wisdom and guidance. Such injuries like hers now were difficult, sometimes impossible, to recover from.  

Instead, she looked into Muuh’s amber eyes with hers. There was a flicker of sadness, a silent request not to risk her life yet again, but also a flicker of pride, that Plume, even though she had not been her birth mother, was proud to call Muuh her daughter. 

Muuh placed her other hand on top of Plume’s and learnt in to gently kiss her forehead. Although her skin was like ice, Muuh could feel the warmth her kiss had given her. 

She turned to face the Great Tree, noting Impian standing half in shadow, he gave her a solemn nod. He knew what she was about to do. 

The dagger felt heavy in her hands, her bloody grip staining the pelt that was wrapped around the sharpened stone. She waited a moment more, listening for any movement on the far side of the clearing. Then, she ran. 

Her legs felt weak as she used them to run, but she soon found her strength. Her feet barely touching the moss beneath her.  

Circling around the clearing as she had done as a child, she snaked through the trees and vaulted over the roots. At first, she was not as nimble as she had once been, her side aching and in a moment of fear Muuh touched her side subconsciously to see if the wound had re-opened. But as she ran her hand over her skin, she realised there was only a raised scar where Sciurus had stabbed her. 

She took a moment to catch her breath behind another tree, throwing a glance back to see the Fae emerging and approaching Plume, ready to carry her back to safety. She pressed onwards, keeping low and quiet as she approached where the shots were fired from.  

With dagger at the ready, Muuh crept closer. Upon pulling the thicket out of the way and preparing to plunge into a fight, Muuh found the spot deserted.

Still keeping low, Muuh took a cautious step forward and noticed the footprints that were slowly being erased from the mossy earth. Someone was just here. 

Then, the unsheathing of metal and Muuh rolled, narrowly avoiding a swipe from a small knife. Its owner standing behind her, smiling manically. 

Sciurus. 

He swiped and again Muuh dodged, her feet finding their balance and her own knife blocking his. Knowing her mistake last time was relying on full frontal aggression, Muuh pushed back to gain some distance. Sciurus continued to smile. 

Aware that she had changed tactics, Sciurus changed his. With a murderous glint in his eye, he lunged forward, driving his dagger through the air at Muuh. It caught the skin on her arm, but nothing fatal.  

Swerving she brought up her own weapon, but felt her side go weak at the sudden jolt. Sciurus used this opportunity to kick her hard in the chest, sending her backwards, through the thicket and into Nemus. 

“I almost did not recognise you, your highness.” Sciurus purred as he emerged in the clearing. “To think that you survived not only once, but twice thanks to the heart.” 

Muuh got to her feet, her side ached but she ignored it, not letting her eyes drift away from Sciurus.  

He took her lack of voice as a prompt to continue. “I am known to be a clever man, I simply put two and two together. No wonder you are such a savage if this is where you have been these ten, long years.” 

As he closed the gap between them, Muuh realised that Sciurus only had a knife for a weapon, nothing capable of firing the thick metal bolts.  

A mixture of fear and panic swirled in her chest, as from the corner of her eye she spotted the Captain of the Royal Guard stalking towards the Great Tree and the small group of Fae, now including Plume, who had taken refuge inside - all except Impian.

She could see the Captain raising his crossbow and without thinking she shouted as loud as she could, turning her attention away from her foe.

But it was too late. 

The shot was fired and it pierced through Impian, hitting a tree behind him, embedding itself in the bark. 

The elder Fae placed a hand to his stomach, the blood already seeping to the floor. Across the way, the Captain drew his sword. 

Muuh placed a foot forward in an attempt to run but was knocked off her feet with Sciurus, he held her to the ground, pulling her arms back behind her with one hand, the bones threatening to break and muscles tear, while with the other, still grasping the knife, he wrapped a few fingers in her short hair, yanking her head upwards so she could watch the approaching death of her beloved leader. 

“Watch.” He spat, “Watch and see just how immortal these vermin claim to be.” 

Tears sprung from Muuh’s eyes as she helplessly struggled.  

The screams and cries from the Fae’s hurt her ears, her nose stung from the stench of blood that still hung heavily in the air.  

Impian took his hand away from his wound, the blood had stained his white hair and his face had lost all its colour. With closed eyes, Impian threw back his head, facing the sun that continued to shine above. The small beams of light that broke through the canopy brought warmth to his dying body. 

Impian’s grey skin began to glow, the water nearby doing the same. A heavy wind bellowed through the clearing as the sky overhead was blocked and the world around them plummeted into a dark gloom.  

The ground beneath Muuh rumbled as the large roots that surrounded them retracted, as if being pulled back into the earth, only to break the ground in front of the Great Tree moments later. The roots soared upwards, twisting around each other and the tree itself.  

As the pool’s shimmer began to die, so did Impian. But he did not fall, instead, he began to evaporate into starlight. His fingers turning into a fine dust that was carried away by the forest’s wind. The Captain who wore fear and confusion on his face like a uniform raised his sword in a final attempt to finish off his kill, but Impian was no more and his sword struck the twisted roots that now protected the entrance to the Great Tree. Those inside were now safe.

Sciurus, having witnessed such an event eased up his grip on Muuh, allowing her to twist and free her hands, just in time to see Bog throw himself at Daymond who desperately tried to free his sword from the embedded trunk.  

They crashed to the earth, throwing repeated punches and kicks at one another. Daymond struggled to free himself, blocking the relentless hits Bog was delivering.  

Daymond kept his arms raised to block Bog’s punches to the best of his ability but upon seeing an opening, he threw a fist into Bog’s face, causing the bounty hunter to roll off of the Captain and onto the ground beside him. Daymond scampered to his feet, barely getting up off the ground before Bog threw himself at the Captain once more, wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling him down.  

In the heat of the fight, Bog did not pay attention to what was occurring behind him, he failed to hear the soft splash of two people, struggling against one another, fall into the clear water that marked the centre of Nemus.  

The Captain kicked hard, the heel of his boot driving upwards into Bog’s chin, the taste of blood almost making him spit in pain and dismay. Still, Bog held tight, his fingers digging into the Captain’s dirted military uniform.

The Captain strained under Bog’s grasp, spotting the crossbow bolt he had fired earlier, pierced into the ground, he edged closer, dragging his arms across the moss and grass in an attempt to get ever closer to the potential weapon. The Captain flexed out his fingers, but Bog’s hold was still strong and there was no way Daymond could reach the metal bolt. With another swift kick to Bog’s face, Bog relented for only a mere second, coughing on his own blood, before tightening his grip once more.

That was all the time Daymond needed. He had managed to wriggle forward a few centimetres and that was enough. His hand tightly gripped the cool metal and with a solid yank pulled it free from the earth. With a demonic, twisted smile he turned, contorting his body enough to get a good angle on Bog and plunge the crossbow bolt into his shoulder. 

Bog hissed at the sudden pain, his fingers unclenching as the blood began to pour from his wound. Daymond reached out to try and pull the bolt free, ready to use it again, but Bog pulled away, falling backwards which caused his shoulder to erupt in newfound agony. Through gritted teeth, he wrapped his fingers around the mental and pulled quickly. The bolt came free, dripping in Bog’s blood.  

The Captain, still on the ground began to back away, shifting his body and kicking his legs in a frantic attempt to gain the high ground once more, but he had just lost a weapon and only the sword remained. 

Bog rose to his feet, grunting with the pain in both his face and shoulder. Slowly, he came forward, bolt in one hand clenched tightly so that his skin, though smeared with red, was pale in complexion underneath.  

Finally getting to his feet in a blind panic, Daymond pulled and yanked at the sword’s hilt, but the blade was firmly stuck deep within the thick roots that protected the array of watching eyes of those who lurked in the shadows beyond.  

Daymond almost screamed as the red eyes grew larger, sharp talons escaping through the small gaps where the roots had not completely crossed and ripping at his uniform, seeping into his flesh – holding him in place. 

The once proud Captain was now reduced to a sobbing mess as he tried to pull free, frantically slapping at the blue hands so that they may release him.  

He craned his neck, eyes wide with terror, the sweat mixing with the tears that now fell on his stubbled cheeks. 

But it was too late for him, Bog had pierced his stomach with the metal bolt. The same place where the Captain had impaled Impian. 

“That,” Bog spat as he pulled free the bolt with force, “was for Impian and the forest.”  

“This,” Bog drove the bolt into the Captain’s shoulder, “is for me.” 

Bog paused before he said his next words. 

“This is for my father.” 

With a single thrust of the bloodied bolt to his head, Daymond was killed instantly. 

The Fae retracted their hands from the dead body, letting it fall to the ground unceremoniously.  

From behind the roots came a hoarse voice, a low growl that called him by his name. 

“Bounty Hunter, you need to save her.” 

“Plume?” Bog asked, kneeling down and peering between a small gap to see two red eyes pleading with him. “Plume, where is Muuh?”  

With a weak, clawed hand Plume pointed through the gap to behind Bog. Without needing instructions, he took off running towards the pool, knowing that beneath the surface, Muuh was drifting down.  

The water had begun to turn stygian, the once crystal-clear lagoon was now gone, tendrils of black streaking out just below the surface.  

Without hesitation, Bog threw himself in. 

Watching the scene unravel from behind the safety of the root wall Impian had constructed before his death, Plume leant against the bark, praying to the forest for Muuh’s safe return. 

She prayed for Bog too, asking a question that had been on the tip of her tongue since she had first seen him with Muuh. 

Bounty Hunter, she wondered, can you save the girl you love? 

*** 

As soon as they made contact with the water, Muuh lost her grip on Sciurus.  

Now, as she focused her eyes, she could see his robes trailing after him as he descended down towards the murky nothingness. 

Muuh had swam within these waters more times than she could note, but the pool had never felt like this. The normal crystal-clear colouring was becoming thick and cloudy, the pressure heavier.  

Diving down, Muuh battled against the water’s resistance, her vision becoming entangled with the fabric from Sciurus as she reached out and grabbed a handful of the material. The sudden force made Sciurus jolt mid-swim, he lashed out, firing a fist into Muuh’s stomach, causing her to take a sharp intake of air, the bubbles that escaped from her lips disappearing almost instantly in the gloom.  

Muuh could feel the water filling her lungs, but unlike the mouthfuls she had happily drunk as an infant, the taste was now bitter. It burnt at her tongue and her insides felt as if they were dying. 

She knew that somewhere above her was the surface, however she knew she could not risk Sciurus escaping, but if he stayed down here, continually sinking, he would drown. 

Follow.  

Follow him.  

Follow him now.  

Obeying the chorus of panicked, ethereal voices that spoke in the back of her mind, Muuh continued down, fighting the rising tide of panic as her lungs burnt at the lack of air and tainted water. 

Reaching out her hand, fingers outstretched, she could feel the flickering from Sciurus robes as they wrapped around her fingers, but as she went to hold them, they were gone. 

Her vision grew worse, she could not see her hands that drifted out before her, the force of the pool pulled Muuh down continually into a potential watery grave, there was no escape now.  

She had lost him. 

And now, she was going to drown. 

Muuh squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the stinging sensation that burnt away at them but to no avail.  

Muuh ...  

She could barely hear the voices now, whispering like a distant and forgotten memory. 

Whatever you do  Muuh ...  

… 

Do not leave the water.  

*** 

As Muuh broke the surface, she forgot at that moment to breathe, but as she felt the air hit her face, she gasped, letting the air pour into her, causing a fit of coughing and splashing.  

Her eyes stung but as they adjusted, she could only gaze in wonder at this world that surrounded her. 

While the environment looked exactly the same to Nemus, everything had a hue of blue, from the drooping trees and their flora to the glimpses of the sky overhead that seemed to be harvesting thousands of tiny stars, impossible as the sun was high above her only moments ago. 

Muuh circled, treading water lightly to keep herself afloat. Her hair, soaking wet, stuck to the sides of her face and forehead and as she pushed the wild strands from her eyes, she noticed flowing robes in front of her, cascading along the water’s surface. They belonged to Sciurus who stood perfectly still on top of the lagoon from which she had just emerged. 

Cautiously, Muuh placed a hand on top of the water, the wetness just skimming the palm of her hand and fingertips. She expected that as she brought her hand down, it would simply go through the water and create a ripple, but instead, her hand met resistance as if the water’s surface was made of clear glass.  

Just as she placed her other hand down, Muuh was about to pull herself up onto this strange, new surface, but remembered the warning – Do not leave the water.  

The voices, Muuh thought to herself, though sometimes speaking in riddles and clues, had been right thus far. Letting her feet kick freely under the surface, Muuh brought her arms down beside her, now being able to feel the cool water against her hands.  

Keeping her head just above water, Muuh approached Sciurus, who had begun walking slowly towards the edge of the pool, enticed by what lay beyond. 

Then Muuh saw it too. 

She saw a beautiful woman, ethereal and regal in posture as well as stance waiting for Sciurus just at the water’s edge. Her gown, decorated in tiny glistening jewels, flowed to the ground, the hem gathering upon the dark, dewy grass that covered the earth.  

The woman wore a headdress embedded with ornate gems, her hair cascaded around her pale, ghostly shoulders. Her features were sharp, but most prominently was the torn skin that she wore around her neck like a pendant, the dried blood drenching her front. 

Muuh recognised her from visions, dreams and a life she had once forgotten. 

It was the ghost of her mother. 

Like everything else in this new world, her mother’s skin was also blue. Unlike the Fae’s however, it was paler, as if the skin itself was transparent and faintly luminous. The queen’s gaze hovered with Sciurus for a moment longer, before drifting down to Muuh who remained in the water behind him. 

Muuh’s heart swelled, ignoring the gore and reminder of her horiffic death, highlighted by the deep, almost black, crimson that ran down her, it was still her mother – a woman she had loved and in her own way, missed deeply. She wanted nothing more than to hold her, to feel an embrace that was perhaps familiar when she was a child.  

It was more compelling than she realised, as if she was drawn to the ghostly apparition, her body unknowingly swimming forward, ready to clamber out of the water and onto the surface.  

It was when Sciurus turned to her that she stopped, his twisted expression of horror and greed stopped her almost instantly.  

Turning away from Muuh once he had dismissed her as a threat, Sciurus let his eyes fall one more on the Queen, the woman he had killed. Muuh could only watch as he took a step forward, and then another across the water, his feet gliding along its surface with ease. 

She wanted to follow, the urge growing desperate but her mother’s eyes were still on her and with the small gesture of the ghost’s head, Muuh knew not to proceed. 

More ghostly figures stepped into view, these creatures were the ones Muuh was most familiar with – they were Fae. They wore their battle wounds proudly, but it was the sight of Impian, with a wound to his chest, that caused Muuh’s heart to wrench.  

Sciurus was not far from dry land now, his step quickening as he greedily stalked towards the ghosts. The words he muttered to himself merged with the faint buzz that filled Muuh’s ears. 

“The heart... mine... mine... they are not real... distractions... dead... dead...she's dead...” 

As soon as Sciurus’ foot touched down on the mossy earth, all the spectre’s heads turned instantly to face him, their movement was both unnerving and inhuman. The sudden jolt of their features caused Sciurus to panic, he stepped back but the hands of dead Fae reached out and grabbed him. He screamed, desperately trying to pry their hands off him but to no avail. He swatted furiously, but his hand slipped through theirs, this world was free from logic and reason. 

He reached for his dagger, but more ghosts began to swarm him. Holding him in place as the Queen and Impian glided towards him, they reached out in unison and covered Sciurus face, who in one last attempt to flee, released the most piercing shriek that rang through the whole ghostly forest. 

The wind howled, causing leaves to hurtle off the trees and branches to snap. The water rippled violently and it was in all the ensuing chaos that Muuh was pulled under the water. 

Her world was dark once more.

Instead of floating, Muuh found herself in an embrace, a body pressed against hers, one arm strongly pinning her in place. Though her eyes were sore, she pried them open. She looked above, her hair suspended in the water, each strand behaving differently as she moved. But her legs were stiff and rigid, and it was the one holding her who was propelling them both upwards. 

The water had once more returned to its clear state and Muuh could now see Bog, who used his free arm to navigate the waters, bubbles dancing around them as they soared. 

From above, she could see the surface racing to meet them, the sunlight breaking through the water as if to guide them. 

The future of the forest and Fae were uncertain, but for now, at least – they were safe.  

Chapter Text

When she was an infant, Dawn would often wonder about what life would be like when she was older. Her entire life was paved out for her, she would marry a nobleman but not become Queen and in theory, or rather as she was told so often enough she believed it to be true, be happy.  

Dawn could remember the simple days where she played happily with her sister. She could recall the feeling of the stream against her dress and bare calves, her sister’s laughter and the ease of their life at such a young age.  

It would seem, however, that life did not care much for notions and plans, events or aspirations.  

After everything she had witnessed and experienced, Dawn doubted that her life would ever be simple, but at least now, it could be somewhat hers. 

She placed the quill back in its inky holder, the parchment before her was signed and completed, but it was one of many and at this stage, she had forgotten how many of the blasted things she had scribbled on.  

With a hefty sigh, she rose to her feet and walked to a nearby window, whose view showed the bustling courtyard below.  

Tentatively she fidgeted with her fingers, her hand feeling the engagement band she still wore on her left hand, now only in place as a precaution and her newly placed one on her right.  

From the window, Dawn observed the variety of people going about their business, carrying everything from livestock to linens. In the two years since the coup, attempted assassination and the war, the future and prospects of Fairon were at an all-time high. The scars, however, from these horrific events, were worn in remembrance. 

A rasp, rhythmic knocking pulled her out of her dream-like state and with her order to come inside, the door flung open to reveal a red-faced Lizzie. 

“I have been informed that the carriage is prepared and they are awaiting you for departure.”  

“Thank you, Lizzie, what would I do without you?” Dawn said as she pulled her handmaiden and close friend into a tight embrace.  

“Do not start, or I will not be able to hold back the tears.” Lizzie commented with glassy eyes, placing a stray, blonde curl behind Dawn’s ear. “I am so proud of you, we all are. Your mother would be too.”  

“Do you think Marianne would be?” Dawn found herself saying. 

“Your sister’s choice was difficult, she understood the responsibility she was handing over to you. She would be immensely proud of the fine ruler you have become.” 

Dawn blinked away the tears to the best of her ability. “Right, well, I best be going. The Eastern Isles will not take too kindly to their new Queen being late to an arranged meeting.” 

With confidence in her stride, Dawn made her way through the castle hallways. The repairs had only recently finished in this section of the castle, others where the fires burned bright and the bricks turned to dust would take much longer.  Nobody was allowed into those sections of the castle, they were far too dangerous, one slip would result in sudden death from such a fall. This had been a royal order, and Dawn had used that to her advantage.  

Arriving back in Fairon after the Battle for the Forest, she, like her family and friends were unsure of what they would be greeted with. They did not know how deep Sciurus’ hatred and lies were sown. As they entered the city perimeter, people flocked in their masses to see the royals they had been told were deceased.  

In his wake, Sciurus had left a devastating mark on Fairon, corrupting most of the King’s Guard and using the criminal underground and those within the jails to his advantage. Defences and stations were left unmanned and without the protection from the crown, people grew cautious of another catastrophic riot. Thankfully, the goodness of man won and young men and even woman took it upon themselves to patrol and keep the peace. Though a few of Sciurus supporters had stayed behind in the safety of the city walls, they were met with resistance from the citizens who demanded to know what happened to their King and Princess. 

Approaching the castle grounds on their first day back in society, Dawn could see the youth who patrolled the outside perimeter, they had no armour, though some had comically fastened pots to their chests. A woman, slightly younger than Dawn with a heavier build later explained they had feared looters, though the concept of what treasures that laid within the destroyed castle did seem tempting, they felt it in their duty to their kingdom and King to keep it safe and untainted. 

Dawn was not sure if this was what ignited the spark within her father, the hope and good within people, but as they walked through the smoke-stained halls, he did not cry at the destruction of his home, instead, he took Dawn’s hand and together they spoke of memories. Dawn recalled a time when she and Marianne played hide and seek, darting about in the hallways in an attempt to not be seen. The King described how he and Dawn’s mother danced in the ballroom, the room swaying but all they could focus on was each other. It was that night that she pulled him to the balcony and told him she was with child.   

They had spent so many years grieving, the castle had been full of woe and sorrow and now, with its gaping holes, it could finally be able to enjoy those memories, ones that were once too painful to be told.   

Within the first month of returning home, Dawn’s world had been chaotic. Both herself and the King gave public announcements explaining the uprising and events that had transpired, though they never mentioned the Fae, that was a promise they had agreed to keep upon leaving the forest.  

Sciurus' treachery and death, along with Captain Daymond's and most of the Royal Guard, became public knowledge and the neighbouring settlements soon sent both word and aid – while the Eastern isles became increasingly concerned with the whereabouts of its own Lord Roland Highworth. The month was difficult not only for the stress but because Dawn had to declare that her sister had died in the ensuing battle. She told of how Princess Marianne had fallen for both her kingdom and her people, protecting what she loved the most – family. There was not a single person in the crowd who did not weep that day, mourning in their masses as a second funeral was held for the deceased Crown Princess, whose grave lay next to the Queen's, the two, in the coming months, would be covered daily with flowers and offerings. 

Only a handful, who had endured the warfare, knew the truth. That Princess Marianne was not dead, she was very much alive. But she was not Marianne anymore, but Muuh, not quite human and not quite Fae but something far more special and indescribable.  

It was within this hectic, first month that Dawn found herself escaping to a disserted and decimated area of the castle. The strong oak door that had once marked the entrance had been badly burnt, the heat had warped the wood and melted the iron handle. Only a ghost of the door itself now remained and with a gentle push, the door gave way completely, falling onto the charred floor sending up a cloud of ash. 

The rooms Dawn trekked through were wrecked, tapestries were only recognisable by the metal poles they had once hung from, tables and chairs had either crumbled into nothingness or fell apart into broken, bent beams. In one of the rooms, a large gaping hole replaced two once-strong stone walls. As Dawn stood in the vast open space, the air whipped around her, threatening her closer to the edge where below all of Fairon could be seen.  

Her hair and gown were both buffeted by the wind and although Dawn was tempted, she did not cross the comfort of the somewhat stable floor. Though destruction surrounded her and filled her senses, she felt a strange presence of peace up here where all she could hear was the distant murmurs of her world below and the air as it howled and made the little grey puddles of ash dance at Dawn’s feet. 

In the present, as Dawn made her way to the carriage, she wondered if that particular room would ever be truly able to regain its former glory or if it even should. It was the castle’s scar after all, and as much as you try and hide a scar, be it with powder, clothes or confidence, they still remain.  

Passing through the refurbished corridors, the positioned guards bowed their heads in respect, their uniforms clean and glistening.  

Inspired by the kindness and integrity the youth of Fairon showed during his impromptu absence and potential regret at his act to appoint Sciurus and let his Kingdom slowly crumble, the King took it upon himself personally to reinstate a new Kings Guard. Since only a few loyalists to Sciurus had remained behind, these were quickly gathered up, questioned and promptly jailed for treason in the newly refurbished jails, which had largely remained untouched by the destruction, but still suffered from smoke damage.  

But the lack of a presence had unnerved the King and not wanting to repeat past mistakes he announced he would be holding an event for those interested in the service. The proposition of good pay, good food and a home away from home seemed like reasons to join and within the first day, new faces filed into the castle grounds.  

The King was surprised at the number of people willing to pledge allegiance to the crown, but he was more surprised at the amount of red-checked, determined women who stood proudly between the ranks with the men. Dawn had noted his uncomfortableness and queried him on the matter.  

“We have never had women wish to join.” The King explained to his youngest, his hands twitched nervously, a tick he had only recently developed. 

“Perhaps they were never given the chance.” Dawn countered, “You saw first-hand that a woman could fight just as well as any man, if not more ferociously. Marianne included.”  

“Marianne had... years of experience. These women will not know how to use a spear.”  

“I did not know how to use a Halbert and I was quite efficient with one during the coup.” 

Her father had paled at the memory. 

“Besides,” Dawn continued, “The men joining up will not know either, they are all starting fresh. They will all learn together.”  

The King sighed with defeat, he knew his daughter was right and he had vowed as he left the forest to pay more attention to both her and her voice. “Now it is just a matter of who will teach them.” 

Captain Daymond was deceased, his body had either been buried or thrown into the small lake, along with the rest of the dead. Dawn could not recall what had happened to him after his death, she remembered the thick roots crawling back into the earth and the Fae known as Plume smiling as two people broke free of the water's surface. 

Initially, Bog crossed Dawn’s mind as a candidate. She knew of his history with the Guardsmen and he had proved himself a thousand times over to be reliable, trustworthy and fierce. But the Bounty Hunter had settled on a different path, though promising he would see them soon, they did not know when. Then a firebolt of an idea came to Dawn and it was with that, that Pare, though grey-haired but still sturdily built would teach the new recruits. 

He took to the role like a dog with a bone and the results were promising and men and woman were eager to learn. The task, however, was difficult by one's self, Pare was a talented teacher and he had found his calling, but he could not do everything by himself, he needed help.  

It was the King who sought out Bog’s mother and companions. After the battle Griselda, Shiv and Tien had returned to their small shack just outside of the city to find it ransacked, the herb garden trampled but thankfully most things had remained. Items of worth, either because of their price or memory, had been safely buried in the earth behind the house, including Marianne's pendant Dawn had hidden.  

The stable was in a surprisingly good state and once the horses had been collected from the neighbouring settlement they had wound up in, their steed was more than happy to be home from such an adventure, greedily guzzling up the oats and grains laid out for him.  

When the King visited, he was greeted by a tired but somewhat cheery Griselda. He stated that he needed someone with Tien’s skillset and Shiv’s weapon experience to aid him in a new age of Guardsmen. Griselda was thrilled at the idea, thankfully Tien and Shiv were too, now that it seemed that their Bounty Hunter days were over. Shiv even commented herself that the Crown was not as bad as she had thought after all. 

Tien and Shiv were given housing quarters within the palace grounds, close to where the recruits and guards slept. In the first couple of weeks since their move, Griselda often visited them, having grown quite attached during those years at the shack.  

On one of these occasions, Dawn inquired about Griselda’s living condition, to which Griselda opened up about how lonely she tended to feel. 

“I am an old woman, I have had my time. I was always complaining that Bog needed to quit such a terrible business and settle down and now, well, I got that wish. I am happy that he found someone who could make his soul sing, I just miss the hustle and bustle that’s all.” 

“There is plenty of hustle and bustle here.”  

“Here?”  

“Well, now that Lizzie is a married woman she has her fair share of duties without running after me all the time. Though not being biased, I will always be Lizzie's favourite but Pare is a close second.” Dawn took Griselda’s hands in hers, “what I am trying to say, is that I could always use an extra pair of hands if you wanted to-” 

“Of course!” Griselda beamed her infamous toothy grin, “though I have some requests.”  

It was from that point on that Griselda became employed by the crown, her favourite thing to do was to help Dawn pick out her clothing for the day and she nearly fainted when Dawn insisted that she could take home some dresses for herself. Griselda's one request was that she remained at the little shack, insisting that someone needed to tend to the garden but Dawn wondered if the old woman was waiting for the day her son returned from the forest.  

Though, thankfully she did not have to wait long for his first visit. 

Dawn finally made it to the courtyard where a carriage was awaiting her, the horses were eager to make headway, their hooves clattering against the cobbled stone floor. Pare stepped forward to greet her, in the last two years he had not aged but his hair had grown grey and wispy. As he spotted Lizzie who emerged behind Dawn, he smiled, his cheeks reddening to a pinkie hue.  

“Your Majesty.” He said with a bow. 

“Pare.” Dawn greeted, “are the guards ready?” 

“The New Queen’s Guard is always ready.” Pare remarked with a grin.  

“More importantly, is he ready?” Dawn retaliated with a smile. 

“Your fiancé is seated alongside your father, best hurry, my son has a tendency to babble when nervous.”  

Holding back an unprofessional giggle, Dawn stepped into the carriage. Her father smiled as the door opened and she entered, Sunny did the same, but he looked far more anxious.  

The King placed a firm hand on his shoulder, “there is nothing to fret about lad, this is merely protocol.”  

“The Eastern Isles are not exactly on the best terms with us.” Sunny sighed, pulling the sleeves of his new tunic. 

“The signed treaty has held up for over a year, it will hold for many more. Besides, Lord Highworth is currently away with his betrothed, though he has sent us well wishes.” Dawn explained to comfort Sunny, who was always apprehensive when it came to royal matters, but he was improving.  

Dawn recalled a time where she thought that a union like this, between a royal and a servant, was impossible. Even as she had left the forest on foot, leaving behind Marianne, Bog and the Fae, she thought it could never be. It was not until a small group of men bumbled into Fairon, crying in desperation for food and pity, that her thoughts began to change. 

The newly appointment guards brought them straight before the King and Dawn, explaining that they were found with blood on their clothes and dirt smudged on their faces. As the guard was speaking, one of the men’s eyes shifted nervously, his body language a large indication that he did not want to be near the royals at all, none of them did.  

They had been deserters from the Battle for the Forest, men made up of convicts and guards who simply fled when they saw the ferocity the Fae had fought with. They were the only men who remained from the battle, the ones who knew the Fae’s secret. 

Since they were traitors to the crown, they were tried and found guilty, sentenced to jail and soon they believed the things that had witnessed were merely figments of their imaginations.  

All except Roland. 

During the trials, it was revealed that one Roland had been one of the deserters, forced into fighting by Sciurus who threatened as well as drugged him in order to place him into a suit of armour. The young lord recounted the whole thing as he stood on trial. He explained that on the night of the coup, he was pulled to one side and when he questioned where Dawn, his fiancé was being taken, he was brought in front of Sciurus who, with a small splatter of blood on his robe, explained that the young lord should merely stay calm and not take action. Roland was furious at this upfront notion of being told what to do and when he rebelled, Sciurus threatened to reveal the lord’s treacherous behaviour. 

Lord Highworth argued and questioned what behaviour, and as if he predicted this turn, Sciurus waved a document underneath the lord’s nose, signed by his own hand as well as the King’s. The parchment was a will that stated that upon the King’s death everything would fall to his alive kin. This included sons-in-law and grandchildren.  

Sciurus then waved another document, similar to the will but in this decree, it stated that the betrothed of the King’s heirs would be counted as kin also, even if the marriage had not yet taken place or consummated. If, for example, when the King passed and there was no immediate family the betrothed of the heir that would have taken the throne would be classed as the next of kin, therefore obtaining status and wealth.  

In the case of Roland, if the King died, Dawn too and he found himself at death’s door, his advisor, Sciurus would obtain everything, clearly stated in the Lord’s personal will, made when he turned of age, years before. 

As Roland stood on trial, Dawn believed his innocence. His eyes glassed over and he looked as if his knees would buckle causing him to collapse in a fit of despair. Although she had never warmed to him and dreaded the thought of marrying him, she could understand his position. He was only a child himself when he was brought to Fairon and it was already pre-arranged he would marry into the royal family, all his life he was told what to do and who to be by his advisor, who in turn it was revealed, wanted him dead. 

Now he was labelled as a traitor and among deserters, some of whom were known, hardy criminals.  

She spoke with her father and upon an agreement, they deemed Roland not guilty of his crimes. However, instead of a jail sentence, he would have to sign a treaty – detailing that he lost his privileges within the Fairon court, return to the Eastern Isles and perhaps most importantly, be unable to marry Princess Dawn. Upon signing with an eager hand, Roland had agreed that trade and travel would be the same as it had always been between the settlements and no coup, war or threat could be issued against the reigning heir.  

The Eastern Isles’ court was bewildered to see the young lord return, though still shameful about the whole affair with Sciurus, who had fooled them also. Dawn heard no more from Roland or the Eastern Isles for quite some time, until a few months later, she received an invitation to attend Lord Highworth’s wedding the following summer.  

The invitation had ignited curiosity within Dawn and for hours she poured over old textbooks and parchments, reading up on the law that had forced her hand all her life. Finally, after hours of slaving away reading cursive ink, she found a loophole.  

Practically throwing herself down the corridors, Dawn had run like a mad woman searching for her father and located him, strolling the grounds, letting the sun soak into his crinkled skin. Explaining her situation with as much calmness as she could muster, Dawn was thrilled when her father nodded in agreement. With that, she took off flying once more, but she did not need to search for this particular item, she knew exactly where it was. 

Dawn found Sunny sitting in his usual spot, a small secluded section of the garden, home to roses that were still in bloom. Sunny jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her, they had not spoken much since returning, the tension still hurt and emotional wounds still ached.  

She clenched at the item she held behind her back, her palms beginning to sweat.  

A mix of fear, rejection and desperation caused her to spit out her question even before Sunny spoke.  

Sunny said yes.  

When he commented that he did not have a ring, Dawn pulled her arms from behind her back, opening her hand to reveal her mother’s engagement ring nestled in her palm, the gemstones glistening beautifully in the sunshine.  

It was this very ring Dawn now played with as she stared out of the carriage, Fairon growing distant in the background.  

The valleys swept past her window and it felt bizarre to think she was once fleeing on horseback across this very terrain.  

Minutes staring out the carriage turned into hours and Dawn did not even feel herself slip into sleep. She awoke later, the stars shone in the sky and the outside world was dark. Her fiancé and father were sound asleep, their snores combining in an unevenly pitched melody.  

The last time she was out here, she was a scared Princess, now – she was a Queen.  

Her coronation had taken place only a few months prior, her father had stepped down and with Dawn being the surviving, eldest heir, she took up the mantle. As part of the loophole she had found, she had a time period of a year in which to be married after she officially became the new monarch. That was more than enough time for her plan to be put into notion, to alter the law and make it void for future generations who came to rule. 

For a law to be changed, all the neighbouring settlements had to agree with said law and sign parchment indicating this. So far, all neighbouring settlements had signed, all except the Eastern Isles and it was them that Dawn was now travelling to.  

The coronation was attended by thousands, their faces all beaming up at her with pride and hope. Her father replaced her crown for his and kissed her forehead for good measure. She knew this day had been coming for some time, but it still felt obscure. As she scanned the crowd, taking in the array of people she had invited, from officials and lords to blacksmiths and bakers, she hoped that this occasion marked the beginning of something new for Fairon and the neighbouring kingdoms.  

As she glided down the aisle, a long cloak flowing behind her, Dawn had spotted the Bounty Hunter, a small smirk on his face as he clapped along with a chorus of thousands of hands. It was one of his rare visits to the kingdom and while he did venture outside the forest, Marianne however, did not. She had explained it to her family before they left, stating that she did not belong in that world any more than they belonged in the forest. She could never be the young girl she used to be, she could never truly forgive humans for what they had tried to do, to themselves, to each other and to the forest. 

After an emotional farewell, Marianne had said that maybe one day she could step back onto those man-made floors, not as a princess, but simply an observer, by then, everyone would presume that she had truly died and she would fade into a tragic memory. 

It was this remark that had made Dawn double take at a cloaked figure who stood near the back of the congregation, their hood was up but they too clapped along in celebration. As Dawn passed, she caught a flash of amber and a proud smile and knew exactly who was underneath the heavy cloth.  

From what Bog had described in one of his trips into the kingdom, it would seem that not only Fairon had been affected by the whirlwind of events. He had travelled to see his mother, but often he lesioned often with the crown, both as a friend but also on behalf of Marianne. 

It was on one of these travels that Dawn presented him with the necklace that Roland had gifted Marianne over a decade ago, kept safe by Griselda under their homestead. The jewel was cracked, but it still shone with brilliance when the sun hit it at a certain angle. 

“It is Marianne’s and should be with her.” Dawn explained as she handed it over to Bog who took it without question. “Not that she will need it, but, it still feels right that she should have it returned to her.”  

Bog nodded in agreement, slipping the pendant safely away in his tunic.  

It would turn out that her sister would at first be undecided at what to do with the gift. It held too much significance for such a small, splintered object. Later, she would find the perfect place for the necklace.

In the clearing of Nemus, a sword stuck out of the ground, its aged hilt covered by vines, leaves and moss, and like the many reminders of the war, marked the resting place of someone deceased. In honour of Impian, it was here that Muuh hung the necklace, the cracked gem settling against the mossy blade of the sword. 

Days later, the necklace would too be covered, vines weaving between the chain, securing it in place and small buds beginning to bloom amongst the leaves. 

Many would visit the shrine, including Plume who had taken Impian’s role as leader of the Fae and Bruta, who had survived his ordeal but now only had a stump where his arm should have been. He and the Bounty Hunter had become, in Bruta’s eyes, equals and though he was not the headhunter of the Fae anymore, a role in which his sibling, Laminae, now held as well as a Caput title, he would spend his days gathering herbs alongside his mate, Wrenn.  

In the encroaching distance, Dawn could see the beginning of the forest coming into view. There were no signs that a devastating battle had once taken place, except the boulders, now covered with a thick moss. Once in their meetings, Dawn had asked Bog what had happened to the fallen, for her memories had surely altered as when she left the forest, she could not recall a single corpse. Bog had explained that the forest had taken them, their bodies now deep within the earth. 

Looking out on the wilderness, Dawn believed that within the next hour, they would pass through the heavy trees and with a few more days be approaching the Eastern Isles' border.

She wondered if she would see the flicker of movement between the trees as they travelled, see the familiar gleam of red eyes in the darkness, though the night was easing up, the sun would soon be stretching over the horizon. There was limited travel via this particular route they were travelling, a law that Dawn herself had implicated. It was one of the many acts she had in place to protect the forest and all of its inhabitants for the ensuring future.  

The sky was clearing up, the stars dying out as they retreated back into dim orbs of light and the world slowly becoming more visible. The route through the forest was up ahead, the carriage now jolting on the uneven track. It was then that Dawn caught sight of two figures in the trees, barely noticeable.  

Positioned on a high branch, with their bodies intertwined perched a tall slender figure and someone of smaller physique, who seemed more at ease with the height.

The first rays of sun emerged across the sky and as the brilliant oranges snaked across the landscape, Dawn could see the that the two were curled up with one another in their own moment of peaceful bliss. 

Dawn smiled to herself as the carriage slipped underneath the interlocking branches, continuing on its journey. She knew that for them, they did not need declarations, nor did they need someone from their respective worlds to interrupt. For Bog and Muuh, each other's company and the emotions they expressed in secret, would be more than enough.