Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Both sisters sported almost identically cut short hair, though the elder sister Marianne was brunette, with honey brown eyes, while her younger sister Dawn was blonde and bright like the sun with a pair of light blue eyes that made anyone who saw those bright orbs think of a spring day. They were practically leaning into the driver’s space from the back of the vehicle as they both stared out the front window of the little black cab, watching the vine covered house that they had inherited from their great Aunt Maggie come into view.

At first the young women had seen nothing but acres of trees when Connery had said they were close, though that had only thinned into an endless field of tall grass, wildflowers, roses having a long time ago gone wild, along with hints of a stone fence along an overgrown road. It was approaching the end of summer and the sun had only a couple of hours remaining in the sky as they approached the manor house. The day’s heat gave way to what the sisters hoped might be a cool evening. In the late afternoon sun, the grass looked yellow and bright, as if they drove through fields of gold surrounded by a thick fairy tale forest of trees.

When the house they inherited came into view both sisters gasped, their breath taken away at the sight of the stately home that was now theirs--along with the sizable inheritance that would hopefully be enough to allow the sisters to restore the home to its former glory. Dawn hoped to keep the place for the two sisters to live here, grow here together and maybe even raise their families together in the future. Marianne had explained to her sister that she was set on restoring the house to sell it, get more money, and hopefully by then she would have figured out her place in the world. At least that was Marianne’s hope.

The house and money had come to the both of them at a perfect moment in their lives. Both young women, American born and raised, had graduated college (Marianne had taken a little longer than Dawn since she had changed her major three times), but after graduation neither sister had any job prospects at the moment and their father had recently remarried. While they both adored their new step-mother, it did make things awkward with all of them living under one roof in the small house that the girls had grown up with their father after the death of their mother. (Their father Dagda had met Linda ten years after their mother’s death. She had been a rich part of the girls life, but after the marriage, the girls has felt it was time for them to go, to give their father and his wife space.) So when Maggie Blair, their great aunt from Scotland that neither girl had met, had died and left everything to the young women, it had been a dream and an escape.

Dawn whispered in shock as she stared at the house that wasn’t a house. “That isn’t a house, Marianne! It’s a freakin’ castle!”

Marianne was inclined to agree. “I mean, I thought it looked a little big from the pictures, but the pictures didn’t do the place justice.”

Their cabby was an older man named Connery with a bald head covered by his grey flat hat that he often took off only to replace moments later. He doffed his hat now to rub at his bald head, which was surrounded by tufts of white hair. The man was dressed like he had stepped out of the 1800’s or early 1900’s, Marianne thought. It was hard to tell since he had a timelessness about him. When he smiled, the sisters noted all his teeth were crooked and stained yellow from coffee, but his smile was contagious and his green eyes were bright and merry.

Connery smiled at them as he drove. “I was a bit confused when you ladies said Blair Manor, but when ye gave me directions I realized you meant Blair Castle. This place has been empty for a while, after Miss Maggie got too old to run the place on her own, especially after she broke her hip, and she had to go to that home in the city.” Connery frowned. “Sad business that, never got out again. The place has been empty going on three or four decades or more. After Miss Maggie went off her trolley, everyone sort of forgot about the place. Been empty for a long, long time.”

Marianne nodded. “I heard she was almost 105 when she passed.”

Connery nodded. “Aye, she lived a grand long time.”

Marianne frowned watching the castle loom bigger and bigger as the cabby drove closer on the faded, old gravel drive.

“I never met her. I wish I had. Great Aunt Maggie left us the hou...I mean castle in her will. She was our mother’s aunt. I guess we were the only family she had since our mother had passed when we were kids,” Marianne said softly.

Connery pulled the car up in front of the castle, close enough they could see the gothic shaped, heavy oak doors with sturdy iron handles. Dead leaves and spiders webs adorned the front of the house, giving it the appearance of being ready for Halloween...or a death. It could be a murder house in a movie; either one, Marianne thought with an amused grin.

Connery turned the cab off. “I’m sorry fer your loss, but we’re here we are lassies--Blair Castle. It’ll be nice to see the castle alive again,” he said with a smile. “Now, can I help you young ladies with yer luggage?”

Marianne nodded. “That would be nice, thanks.”

Connery just nodded and got out of the cab to help the girls. Between them, they had six suitcases, four travel-ons and their purses, in addition to two sleeping bags. Marianne helped pull the luggage out of the trunk with Dawn and Connery, setting the cases down on the doorstep. She pulled out the key that she had received with the paperwork for the house/castle/manor when they had arrived in Edinburgh (for the legal part of the inheritance), and walked up to the door. (The key looked exactly like the key one would use to enter a haunted house; iron, big, fancy looking, the kind of key that belonged on a key ring that held many similar keys that all unlocked secret doors to places like Narnia. The key was actually part of a large key ring of similar keys that Marianne had stuffed in her purse at the moment...that was going to be one of the first things Marianne changed, she promised herself. She would add modern keys and locks.) She half expected the key not to work, but the key slid into the lock easily. She turned it and the sound of the lock opening echoed through the ghostly halls of Blair Castle. When she pushed open the door, a loud creak rent the air. The sound was followed by a scattering of dead leaves that danced about as a rush of cold air exited the castle as she pushed the door open wide.

Marianne blinked, a little more startled by the whoosh of cold air than she wanted to let on.

Connery walked up and set the suitcases he had in his hands down at the entrance and looked at the open door at the moment only showed shadows. The darkness inside looked impenetrable.

“I suppose this probably isn’t a good time to tell you girls that this place is supposed to be haunted.”

Connery glanced over at Marianne who still stood in the doorway looking into the castle.

Marianne murmured, “I would be more surprised if it wasn’t.”

Dawn rushed up with a suitcase and a couple of her carry-ons.

“It is? It’s haunted! Cool,” she said with wide-eyed excitement that quickly turned into a bright grin as she stood beside her sister and peered inside, neither sister walking into the cool darkness that waited for them.

Connery frowned, looking at the entrance. “You girls got electricity or water going in there?”

Marianne nodded without looking at the cabby as she spoke. “Yeah, I got that taken care of ahead of time. I think everything is going to have to be updated and rewired, but the plumbing and electricity should be turned on and we were told by the inspector that everything looked good.”

Connery nodded. “If ye have trouble with yer cell phones…?”

Marianne nodded. “I got the landline turned on too.”

Connery smiled with a look at Marianne. “You seem to have thought of everything.”

She turned to Mr. Connery and smiled. “I tried. Don’t worry, we’ll be all right. We should be having a car delivered in the morning, so we won’t be stranded.”

Connery’s brow creased, but he nodded. “Let me go get your groceries for you, smart of you to stop and get food for the night…”

Marianne smiled. “Thank you.”

Connery walked back to his cab. He didn’t like the idea of leaving two young American girls out here alone with the nearest neighbor miles away, but it wasn’t his place to be telling anyone what to do. He went to his cab and pulled out the two large totes that the young women had filled with food from the local grocer and brought them over, setting them down next to the young women’s suitcases.

“All right then, I hope you girls enjoy the castle and the town. Falblair is a five to six mile that way, a good stretch of the legs if ye walk it, which ye can…” Connery pointed north before he pointed west. “And the shore is that way, not as far as the village--maybe four miles. Ye can’t see it for the trees, but it’s there. Now I best be off. Be careful. Oh, and stay away from the old oak that grows out in the back garden, beware of toadstool rings, fairy mounds, and the old willow by the Cranhan Creek that may still have water in it down by Annie’s bridge. Look out for Sprigs and listen fer Banshees! And don’t eat the foods offered to you by the fair folk, no matter how luscious they look, and be careful of the ghosts, don’t let them fool ye.” Connery smiled and tipped his hat at the two young women before heading back to his cab.

Dawn watched him go with a slightly confused expression. “Fair folk? Ghosts?”

“He means faeries,” Marianne said as she picked up the grocery bags and stepped inside the darkened castle. Dawn chased after her sister after grabbing a suitcase. “He wasn’t serious was he? Ghosts? Faeires? Do they have a Scottish Bigfoot?” Dawn giggled.

Marianne searched around on the wall until she found the light switch and flipped it on. The chandelier came to life, and what both women saw made them stop and stare at the large three tiered crystal chandelier covered in dust and spiderwebs, but still maintained it’s grand appearance despite the years of neglect.

“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Dawn said before her gaze took in the great front room of the castle. The walls of the front hall were dingy, covered with dust and dirt, peeling paint and showed some water damage, but the light rose color of the walls could still be seen. There were pictures on the walls, framed photographs, but the images were hidden behind decades of dust and grime. The dark marble floor, also covered in dust and dead leaves, looked to be intact without cracks or damage. Both girls stared at the staircase, a grand staircase with railings that bore intricate carvings. One large set of stairs led up to a landing that split both left and right. Judging by the size of the castle, there had to be more stairs leading to other floors somewhere…

Marianne grinned. “It’s dirty, but wow.”

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, wow.” She turned looking around. To the left was what looked like a library, though it was hard to tell since there was little light. Dawn figured the windows might be boarded up or the curtains were drawn. To the right, she saw a sitting room with a fireplace. From where she stood she could see that both rooms still contained all their furniture. “So, is all the furniture still here?” Dawn asked.

Marianne nodded, entranced as she looked around speaking in a whisper. “I think so. It’s as if Aunt Maggie simply stepped out planning to return, except she never did…” Marianne frowned. “It’s almost like this place is suspended in time.”

Dawn frowned as a thought occurred to her and asked with clear disgust in her voice. “We ah, aren’t planning on sleeping on any of the beds are we?”

Marianne’s spell broke and she laughed. “No, that’s why we have sleeping bags.” She smiled at her sister. “Are you ready for this adventure?”

Dawn grinned. “I’m ready for anything sissy.”

Marianne smiled at her sister. Maybe this was going to be exactly what they both needed.

*

Two weeks later the girls had made a small section of the castle livable with a lot of hard work, sweat, and not a small amount of money spent.

(The young women had heard things in the castle during those two weeks; knocks, the sounds of furniture moving, sometimes a whispered voice, but the two sisters were mostly too tired to put much stock in anything they heard, chalking everything up to jetlag and the amount of work they had both been doing.)

A handful of their things that their father had shipped from the states for them arrived during that time. This mostly consisted of boxes of clothing, some sentimental things like picture albums, Dawn’s massive collection of stuffed animals, and Marianne’s guitar.

The girls had concentrated their efforts on the rooms downstairs, focusing on creating a space for them to live with their focus being on the small castle’s kitchen, library and sitting room. They had purchased two new beds and had turned the sitting room/living room area into a shared bedroom while they worked. They had been able to save a lot of the furniture downstairs. They had made a brief inventory of the upstairs rooms, noting a few things were not worth saving, but a surprising amount of the furniture, knick knacks and even some clothing remained in good shape.

They had worked to paint all the downstairs walls. Marianne was thankful that they had been as fortunate as they were, as the place was structurally sound. They found no black mold, no rodents, nothing really. The place just had cosmetic damage, all of which was surprising to both of them. So far the most expensive thing Marianne had to take care of was the rewiring and some of the pipes in the walls that were damaged, but even the water damage had been surprisingly minimal. It was all rather strange, as if someone had maintained the place for all but the last couple of years, but Marianne wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Now, with the floors clean, the curtains replaced, the salvageable furniture cleaned and restored, Marianne had even managed to get them an internet connection and a new television set with cable! She was going to drag Blair Castle into the 21th century with her teeth if she had to! But, all in all, Blair Castle was slowly turning into their home.

*

Dawn, dressed in a pair of light blue capris and a long sleeve white t-shirt, yawned wide enough that Marianne was surprised her jaw didn’t crack. The elder sister flipped pancakes at the stove while Dawn laid her upper body across the table.

“You wanna go back to bed?” Marianne asked her sister.

Dawn shook her head and sat up, reaching for her coffee. She held the warm cup between her hands and sipped her coffee with pleasure before answering. “Nah, just still tired from finishing up cleaning the staircase yesterday.”

Marianne stood barefoot at the stove. She was dressed in a pair of cut off jeans and a purple hoodie with butterflies dancing across her chest, and nodded. “My knees will never be the same.”

Dawn chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll even get the scent of wood polish out of my skin.”

Marianne laughed. “Yeah, but the stairs look fantastic, don't you think?”

Dawn nodded. “So, are we tackling the rooms upstairs next or the tower?”

Marianne frowned. “Probably the upstairs rooms. I still haven’t found the key to the tower yet. I thought since we’ve been working our asses off since we got here, we might just take the day off today.” She glanced over her shoulder at her sister.

Dawn grinned. “Really?”

Marianne nodded. “Really.”

Dawn made a happy squeal and sipped her coffee, leaning heavily on the new table they had put into the kitchen. It was a solid pine table made by a local craftsman and it was probably the most beautiful piece of furniture Dawn had ever seen, complete with a honey gold finish, shiny surface, and smooth edges. Way better than the old walnut table that had been in here. They had sold the old table to the same craftsman as part of the payment for this table. The other one must have been some antique or something because he was more than happy to acquire it.

“I think I might go explore the gardens a bit today,” Dawn said. “I was looking over the blueprints we got on Monday and I think there might be an old well out there and maybe even a gazebo.”

Marianne set the hot pancakes on two plates and handed one to her sister, who snatched the plate and promptly began to heap butter and syrup onto her pancakes.

“Just be careful if you do. The back is still a jungle,” Marianne said as she set her plate down on the table.

Dawn dug into her pancakes and looked up at her sister, her nose scrunched up. “You know I’m not a kid anymore, right?”

Marianne sat down and began preparing her own pancakes. “I know, but I love you and I worry.”

Dawn smiled. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine! Well, unless I run into any goblins or fair folk…” She giggled. “Then all bets are off!”

Marianne shook her head and cut into her pancakes. “Well if any faeries try messing with you, I’ll kick their asses.”

Dawn grinned. “That’s my big sister, the fairy ass kicker!”

Marianne laughed. “I worry about any fairy that decides to mess with my sister.”

*

Marianne offered to do the dishes, so Dawn took advantage of her sister’s generosity and hurried outside. Summer was well and truly on its way out, Dawn thought with a broad smile. The early mornings in Scotland were chilly and the nights were cool. This morning there had been dew on the windows and a fog on the ground that had since dissipated.

Dawn slipped on her tennis shoes and headed out to look for her lost well and gazebo.

*

The back garden looked like a forgotten fairyland with overgrown shrubbery, rose bushes gone wild, and any number of flowering herbs all grown in excess with small bugs, moths, and butterflies moving freely through the garden along with any number of birds singing songs to one another. Dawn could tell that the garden must have once had an order about it, like all the Victorian gardens a person could see in magazines, all squares and diamonds and symmetry. She could see the ghosts of the lines in small stone borders and the hidden remains of stone fences. She noted some topiary animals, or she guessed they might have been topiary animals. The shapes were now only an illusion, like looking at clouds and seeing the animals hidden within. Dawn much preferred the wildness of the overgrown garden; it seemed more natural, more magical. She knew Marianne would want to cut it all back and try to wrestle the garden back to what it had once been, but she much preferred it as it was now. Maybe she could talk to her big sister into leaving part of the garden wild...

Of course, that would depend on if she could talk Marianne into keeping the castle, their own small Scottish castle. She still couldn’t believe it was theirs and she couldn’t believe her sister wanted to sell it.

She set off on her search for the old well and gazebo, feeling like an intrepid explorer searching for El Dorado as she followed the remains of a brick path, stopping every so often to pull wandering vines off the path, or make her way around tangles of thorny roses and bunches of thick lavender.

*

Marianne hummed to herself while she washed the dishes. She felt pretty good this morning. The castle was coming along, a slow process, yet still they had made good progress. They had a lot more work ahead of them, but she found herself enjoying the physical labor along with seeing the results of her work. She hadn’t told Dawn yet, but she was reconsidering her position on selling the place. She and Dawn had inherited enough money that they could live here in comfort (though not extravagantly) for a long time. Maybe she could take up some of her old hobbies she had let slide, like music, maybe get back into playing her guitar. Today would be a great day for that. Her guitar had come in with the latest shipment of their belongings from their father and it had been weeks since she had played. She could set herself up by the window in the sitting room, which was now their bedroom for the moment…

Yeah, that’s what she was going to do, Marianne thought with a smile. Her smile faded as she heard something upstairs. Marianne went still and listened. It sounded like the soft tread of footsteps, of something walking across the second floor. She had heard it before along with a woman's voice. There was a mirror over the fireplace in the room she and her sister were using as a bedroom and there had been so many times since they had moved in that she thought she saw someone in the mirror passing by, heading toward the stairs. She was pretty sure Dawn had heard things or seen things too, but neither sister talked about it.

Marianne didn’t know if it was one of those unspoken things, where both of them had agreed not to talk about something without ever actually saying they weren’t going to talk about it...or maybe Dawn hadn’t heard anything, or even seen anything. Marianne didn’t know which, but whatever it was that was in the house, it hadn’t been frightening really, hadn’t done anything more than make noises, so Marianne was willing to ignore it, whatever it was.

She finished with the dishes and headed back to their temporary bedroom, noting the sounds of walking upstairs had stopped. Marianne found her guitar, a Cedar Slim with intricate delicate carving on the face that looked like millions of intertwined butterfly wings. It sat where she had left it after unpacking it, propped against the wall on its silver stand in the far corner. She picked it up and walked over to her bed, sat down cross-legged on the mattress and began to tune her instrument with a soft, happy smile on her lips.

*

Dawn came across the ancient oak tree completely by accident. She had been chasing an unusual looking butterfly with red wings and purple and white eyespots on the wings. Dawn had started to follow the butterfly. As if she had been mesmerized, the butterfly had been all she had been able to focus on until it seemed to fade away the moment she stepped into the clearing around the tree. She hadn’t noticed when she stepped past the ring of red topped mushrooms that circled the great oak.

The tree was massive. The old, gnarled trunk was thick enough that at least six adults holding hands would barely be able to circle the tree. It had three massive branches that reached toward the skies with smaller, thick branches (some the thickness of a man’s arm) reaching further up into the heavens. The leaves were green, but she could see a few of the leaves had already begun to turn yellow and red. Dawn stared up into the branches of the tree and gasped in surprised when she saw hundreds of the red wings, butterflies dancing merrily in the branches.

*

Marianne had finished tuning her guitar and began to play an old Scottish tune her mother used to sing to her and Dawn. She sang in a quiet voice, just a little louder than a whisper, her eyes closed.

“Can ye no hush your weepin'

all the wee lambs are sleepin'

Birdies are nestlin' nestlin' together

Dream Angus is hirplin' oer the heather…”

Marianne didn’t see the misty female figure form just to the side of the doorway leading into the room. The figure was transparent; the smokiness that made up its form was wispy, a sudden light breath, a breeze would cause the figure to vanish in an instant. The figure had long, flowing hair, and its dress of mist was long enough to brush the floor before the hem of its train vanished into the air. She laid a hand on the frame of the doorway and watched Marianne play, a whisper of a smile on the lips. But then a loud bang sounded upstairs, loud enough that Marianne stopped playing and looked up at the doorway, saw nothing there, but frowned with a glance up at the ceiling.

Marianne narrowed her eyes. “I know the exterminators said we might have mice, but that sounds like a damn rat,” she muttered setting her guitar aside. “Or maybe a raccoon.” Are there raccoons in Scotland? She wondered.

Marianne hurried into the kitchen, looking though the cabinet drawers until she found what she hoped would be a good weapon, a tenderizing mallet, before she turned and with a determined set to her lips, headed up the stairs.

*

Dawn watched, enchanted as the butterflies flowed and weaved through the thick ancient branches of the oak tree. She stepped closer until she laid her hands against the tree, then yelped as a sharp piece of bark cut into the tip of her finger.

Dawn hissed and snatched her finger back from the tree trunk. Bright red blood oozed from the cut, staining the bark and slowly sliding down her finger. Dawn frowned, sticking her finger into her mouth glancing up at the butterflies only to see that they were all gone. She frowned in confusion, twisting around to see where the butterflies had gone when she heard a sound, like an old wooden door slowly sliding open.

Dawn turned and gasped in surprise when she saw a door now visible in the trunk of the tree. The door was shaped just like the doors at the front of the castle, but this door held delicate, intricate designs, swirls and whorls that danced across the door. Celtic knots and circles covered the entire surface of the door, the center of which was set with a clear white crystal.

Dawn gazed at the door in amazement. She was sure nothing had been there only seconds before, but now…

She reached out and laid her bloody finger against the crystal. The moment she touched it, the crystal turned red, and for a brief second Dawn felt weak, but then the door opened.

With wonder in her eyes, Dawn hesitated for only a moment before she stepped through the doorway.

Chapter Text

Dawn stepped through into the darkness. It was cold, cold enough that she shivered, but she saw a dim yellow light just ahead of her. She frowned, her wounded finger forgotten as her curiosity took over. She moved toward the light even though a little voice inside her head was screaming at her to stop, to turn back…

Leave now…

Before it was too late…

But just as Dawn had begun to listen to her inner voice, had begun to think that turning around would be a good idea, she found herself stepping into the light, and stepping onto a street.

Dawn gasped, her eyes going wide.

The street was a long, dirty path that seemed to stretch out into the distance as far as Dawn could see. Running along the path were trees like she had never seen before, huge trees that rose up into the sky so high that their leafy branches blocked out much of the light while creating a canopy of greens, golds, reds, and oranges, all the colors of autumn. Under the trees, set among the thick roots, stood stalls that held all sorts of goods; from rich colorful cakes, sugared fruit, and rainbow colored macaroons, to crystals that glittered and shone in the autumn light. There were stalls filled with dresses that Dawn would swear came right out of a fairy tale book, with long elegant skirts that dragged the ground, with ornate brocade, and long bell sleeves. The dresses looked to be made from taffetas, cotton velvets, silks in rich vibrant colors of forest green, burgundy, blues, bronze, gold and even silver! Other stalls held jeweled necklaces, diamond rings, and pearls of so many shapes and colors that Dawn couldn’t take them all in.

But the most amazing thing Dawn realized besides the goods available, were the merchants themselves. Fairies! Each and every one of them was a fairy, some small, tiny enough to fit in her hand, while others were her size, all of them with large delicate wings that shimmered and glowed as they moved. The fairies themselves were so beautiful Dawn could barely look at some of them. As she watched, the tiny ones zipped up moving through branches of the trees or swirled among the stalls, followed by the sounds of chimes and leaving a trail of glittering colored dust in their wake. The ones that were her size or taller reminded Dawn of the elves from all those Lord of the Rings movies with their pointed ears, beautiful features and long flowing hair in blacks so black they that hurt her eyes to look upon or blondes that ranged from gold to so light they were almost white. She felt as if everything she had seen in the past had been a grainy, hazy image and now she was seeing with the veil taken away to reveal more color, more clarity than ought to be possible for a human to see.

Dawn stood still, staring in amazement when one of the elegant fairies, a man that was so handsome she had to look away at first. When he came closer, she took a breath to calm herself, and saw that his eyes were the color of rubies while his hair looked to be so pure it could have been spun gold. He wore a robe of light seagreen and a silver circlet on his brow.

“Are you a human? We’ve not been so honored to have a human enter our market in so long!” The handsome fairy showed his excitement in his otherworldly features as he reached out and took

Dawn’s hand, kissing her knuckles. Dawn was too stunned to reply as she stared at the man and felt tears prick her eyes to see such beauty.

He smiled and her heart hurt to see that smile. “Come, pray, tell me your name fair maiden.”

“Ah, it’s ah, Dawn,” she said finally, blinking several times, taking in the fairy’s handsome features.

He smiled at her again and Dawn thought she would do anything to see him smile. “My name, sweet Dawn, is Nyx. And from where do you hail?”

Dawn giggled at the way he spoke as she answered. “Scotland, well Blair castle, it’s near the town of Falblair. Sorry, I know I’m saying those all wrong…”

Nyx simply smiled with comprehension. “Blair Castle, eh? How nice. Well, would you Dawn, please allow me the honor of showing you around our fairy market?” He smiled at her, still holding her hand.

Dawn was numb, felt dizzy at his touch and from looking at his perfect features, but she nodded. “Yes.”

She didn’t see the way Nyx’s smile changed, the edges becoming colder as he wrapped her arm around his. “You do me a great honor beautiful Dawn.”

Dawn giggled, blushing and glancing down before she asked. “Where am I? Is this real?”

Nyx nodded. “Oh yes, this is real. You’ve entered Elf-hame and you are most welcome!”

“Elf-hame…” Dawn said softly, her voice filled with wonder.

Nyx smiled at her. “We’ve not had a human among us in many, many years. All here will be happy to see you.”

“Really? I thought fairies didn’t like humans?” Dawn asked as Nyx began to move her down the path.

Nyx laughed and his voice was musical; his laugh was the most beautiful thing Dawn had ever heard. “Oh my sweet, sweet Dawn, no--we love humans. You have all just forgotten the paths that lead to us, but you, precious sweet Dawn, you found a path, a doorway. And we...I am most delighted.” He smiled at her again and Dawn felt her heart skip a beat, especially when Nyx said softly,

“It would do me a great honor Dawn if you would dine with me. I’m sure your trip was long. A drink of some sugared fairy wine and something to eat, then we can continue our tour. I have so much I want to share with you.” Nyx gently moved his long elegant fingers in front of her face. Dawn saw a slight shimmer effect, like a soft glitter floating in the air. The glitter moved forward and into her eyes. Her blue eyes glowed for a moment as the magic settled in them. Dawn blinked several times, but her face became slack.

Dawn smiled. The little voice in her head that a few minutes earlier had tried to tell her to turn back, tried once more to pull her away, warned her that she knew this poem...she knew the stories...The voice faded as the enchantment settle in.

Dawn smiled, enchanted by Nyx as she said in a soft tone. “Ah...all right.”

Nyx smiled, and his own eyes glowed for a moment as he put his arm around her waist. “Come my precious, let me show you the magic we have to offer you.”

*

Marianne moved cautiously up the stairs and stopped once she was at the top, looking down the long hall that ran one way, then the other. Whatever she had heard had stopped moving. She couldn’t decide if this was a good sign or a bad sign. She shifted her hold on her mallet, the untensil was heavy, but not too heavy. The weight of it in her hand made her feel better while the tiny head of it did not make her feel better. The idea of having to get close enough to hit something with the small head of the mallet made her slightly queasy, but it didn’t stop her from investigating. The thought that something might be running around the upstairs of her new home made her more uncomfortable than hunting said varmint down. She smiled at her thinking of the word varmint as if she was straight out of a looney toons cartoon. She chuckled then went completely still when she heard the sound of movement again down the hall to her left, coming from the room at the end, from the room the sisters had taken to calling the junk room.

Marianne stopped and stared at the closed door of the room, listening. She didn’t hear anything else as she strained to listen. She could see light coming from around the door--probably illumination from the window in the room as it didn’t have a curtain on it. The room was filled with stuff, not junk exactly, just a lot of bric-a-brac, a lot of old furniture that needed to be worked on, some sewing mannequins since the girls had learned that their great aunt sewed. (They had found an entire sewing room with an old sewing machine that had to be from the 1920’s. The room had several sewing mannequins with half-made dresses on them and there were bolts and bolts of material.) There were a few other things in the room, old clothes, and a couple of chests Marianne and her sister hadn’t gotten around to looking through yet.

Marianne chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds before she began walking toward the room again. When she arrived at the door, she put her hand on the knob and waited, but she heard nothing. She frowned and counted to ten, wishing she had called Dawn from the garden to come with her, before she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Most of the furniture in the room had been moved in here before Marianne and her sister took over the place, so a lot of the items were covered in dusty dust covers. Dawn and Marianne had moved a few pieces in here while they were working on the place. Those items--a vanity, some chairs, and a few end tables--remained uncovered. Marianne looked around with a shudder as the idea that she was in a room filled with a bunch of sheet covered ghosts made her blood go cold for a moment. She tried to laugh at the idea, but found she couldn’t muster up the humor. The room was creepy and cold. She shivered looking around.

The window was a large picture window that looked out onto the back garden, letting in a great deal of watery daylight. She frowned, walking slowly across the wood paneled floor, and winced as her steps made the floor creak. She stopped.

That was when she heard it, the soft whisper of a voice.

Marianne’s eyes widened, but she couldn’t move, her body frozen in place. Her eyes darted back and forth, though she saw nothing. The whispering stopped. Marianne’s heart pounded inside her chest as she took another step forward. Maybe it was her imagination…

Another step and she heard the breathing.

Marianne spun around, but she saw nothing there, behind or to the sides.

She started to breath heavier, fear coursing through her veins, her heart hammering hard and fast. Her hand around the mallet handle was sweaty. As she looked around in all directions, she heard the sound of the old untuned piano downstairs begin to play. The music was soft, Chopin, Nocturne No.21 C minor--the only reason Marianne knew the tune was because her mother would sometimes play it on the piano they had in their home for as long as she could recall.

“What the fuck…” Marianne muttered, but this time she was sure someone was in the house and they were fucking with her. She raced down the stairs, fear replaced by anger. She ran through the parlour and into the hall toward the sitting room where the old piano sat. She resisted the urge to call out to warn whoever it was that she was coming. She didn’t want to give them a chance to get away. Belatedly, she wished she had brought her phone with her so she could try and call the authorities, but maybe this was just some local kids who wanted to mess with the Americans. Well, she was going to scare the shit out of them right back!

She could hear the sounds of the piano music playing as she ran from the sitting room through the hall and into the parlor, a richly decorated room with red embossed walls, faded red and gold rugs, heavy wooden furniture, and a Sterling Victorian era upright piano. The moment she entered the room, her arm holding the kitchen mallet raised over her head, the music ceased.

Marianne swallowed, staring at the piano, but there was no sound, and no one there. She turned around slowly. The room had been cold when she entered, but as she stood there, the coolness faded.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked herself in a hushed voice.

*

Nyx led Dawn along the street while fairies gathered around to follow. A mix of flower and fruit scents filled the air around the fairies and Dawn and her escort, along with the beautiful tones of their voices and the chimes of their wings. She moved like a sleepwalker as Nyx guided her to a long table piled high with all the most beautiful and delicious foods Dawn had ever seen. Each item looked delicious and fresh, from the silver bowl filled with plump rich grapes, rich pomegranates, and shiny red apples, next to platters of gold that held lemons of a yellow so bright to be blinding, quinces, cherries, and blood red strawberries. Dawn saw cups filled with mulberries and cranberries next to rich cakes with delicate frosting twirls in soft pinks and delicate greens that sat on a stand made of crystal. Those and much more all looked like the most perfect, most delicious version of that food ever to exist. Butterflies in a rainbow of colors danced over the table with delicate pixies that swirled and danced over the table together.

Nyx pulled out a richly carved wooden chair and guided Dawn into the chair.

He reached over to pick up a goblet of gold with dancing fairies carved into the metal, highlighted with rich rubies and deep green emeralds. He smiled at her as he picked up a flask of pink crystal and poured out a delicately pink liquid that shimmered, as if made from liquid glitter. Tiny pixies brought a plate of gold to set it before Dawn. Nyx plucked the most vibrant of fruits and cakes, setting them on the plate in front of her.

“There, you must be hungry and thirsty my lovely Dawn. Please, eat, drink…” Nyx smiled at her and reached out to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers in a caress so gentle and so pleasant that Dawn shuddered in delight.

Dawn, her voice soft like in a dream, whispered. “But I haven’t any way to repay you for this feast. I saw all these goods for sale…”

Nyx ‘tsked’ and kissed her cheek. “One lock of your golden hair for me to hold will be enough my sweet Dawn--more than enough--and a promise that you’ll return, for my heart would break if you didn’t come back to me.”

Dawn looked over at Nyx. He smiled as he saw the spell he had woven now had a firm hold on the pretty little human. “You want me to come back?” she asked in her dream-like state, her shimmering eyes filled with magic and longing.

Nyx grinned, glancing at the others that gathered around the back of Dawn’s chair; all of them now appeared in their true twisted forms, some of them small and dark, eyes on their cheeks, or other odd places, mouths filled with razor sharp teeth. The tiny flying ones morphed into multi-legged monstrosities with no eyes, but mouths full of hungry, gnashing fangs, all of them ugly and malformed creatures of darkness. Nyx turned back to the enchanted human, his face retaining its stolen beauty, but his eyes had turned a deeper red, as red as the cherries on the table.

“Eat my sweet girl, eat and drink--for me,” Nyx purred.

Dawn reached out and picked up the goblet. At the same time she plucked a grape from the gold plate and popped it in her mouth. Never in her life had she tasted a grape that was so sweet, so filled with rich juice. The fruit flooded her senses...

Nyx smiled wickedly and stole a glance at the others who murmured and buzzed with delight. He cupped Dawn’s chin. At his light touch, she opened her eyes to stare into his beautiful face and he kissed her. Dawn’s eyes rolled closed when his lips pressed against hers, the sweetness of the juice from the fruit mixed with the pleasure of Nyx’s lips, tightening the spell on her.

Nyx pulled back from her slowly, his smile now full of fanged teeth, but Dawn only saw his beautiful face.

*

One of the goblins in attendance didn’t look happy to see the human overcome by the temptations of Nyx and the others. He looked scared and sick. His name was Thang, a small frog-like goblin with mottled brown and green skin with large bulbous eyes and crooked teeth. He was small and easily overlooked--which made him a great spy. And he was a spy, a spy for his king, sent to the goblin market to watch for anything, anything that would alert his king to the movements of the brother and sister who held the throne of the unseelie court, the throne that should, by right, belong to Thang’s king.

Lalnan and her twin brother Liri were both beautiful and deadly, evil through and through. Lalnan had tricked his king, the Bog King, out of his throne with Bog only barely escaping with his life and taking his loyal followers with him, fleeing into the darkness that was the Dorcha Forest, a forest so twisted and vile that even the goblins and other unseelie fey that served Lalnan and Liri hadn’t tried to follow after them.

Of course, they had discovered the forest wasn’t as bad as all that, but Bog kept the stories going, kept the forest’s reputation alive, which kept Lalnan and Liri from pursuing them. The forest was considered too wild and vast, filled with things untamed and many without name, that even the new king and queen of the unseelie court didn’t dare enter into the forest. In the last several years, Thang had learned that the king and queen thought Bog dead since he had made no moves against them, but Thang knew Bog was waiting.

But now this! There hadn’t been a human in Elf-hame in, well...a long time! And now there was one here and she had fallen into Nyx’s grasp. Thang hadn’t known a lot of humans, really only one, a human woman named Maggie who had been kind to them, but she had stopped coming a long time ago. This one was young and innocent and she had made the mistake of eating the poisoned fruit!

Thang slipped away, no one noticing when he fled the market and headed off the path, taking twists and turns through the fields of poppies and into the lands of the stone giants, heading back to his king and home.

*

After the incident with the piano, nothing more odd happened. Marianne checked around the house, but she found no evidence of anyone having been on the property. She had called for Dawn when she was outside, but wherever her sister was, she wasn’t answering. Marianne figured Dawn had probably found herself a nice place to enjoy the weak sunlight and had gone to sleep. Dawn could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, anywhere. It was a weird superpower Marianne thought as she headed back into the house, one she wished she possessed too. She figured if Dawn didn’t show up before it started to get dark she would go and find her.

Marianne figured whoever had been in the house had left, having had their fun--or it was a ghost, but that was crazy talk. Stupid teenagers playing jokes on the Americans she could believe and handle, but ghosts she wasn’t so sure about.

She didn’t believe in ghosts she told herself. (Though that thought made Marianne remember a conversation with her mother from when she was a child. Marianne’s mother had sat her down on her lap and had told a little Marianne that just because you don’t believe in something, doesn’t mean that something doesn’t believe in you. They had been talking about dragons at the time, but Marianne had figured it applied to just about anything.) Marianne decided that she was going to have an alarm system installed, maybe some motion activated lights out front and in the back and she was going to get a dog. The dog she could at least get tomorrow, whereas the lights she had to order online.

Marianne took a deep breath, calming herself, but when she went back to get her guitar, she took the mallet with her and moved herself to the front parlor after locking the other doors that led outside. No one was going to get past her.

*

Dawn woke up confused. Her head felt heavy and she felt a thirst and hunger in her that hurt. She moaned and pulled her legs up, holding herself in a fetal position for a few minutes. The thirst and hunger made her feel as if her stomach was trying to eat itself. That was when the images of the fruit and wine she had tasted came rushing back, so plump, so colorful, the taste so exquisite and then there were the fairies, so beautiful it hurt to look at them...

Dawn groaned in pain. She pushed herself up off the ground to her knees, only to find herself in front of a large tree. She only half remembered finding the tree; her brain felt foggy and she felt leaden. She had been wandering in the gardens, looking for a gazebo, she remembered that…

Slowly Dawn rose to her feet frowning at the tree when she remembered the door, the door that had taken her to the fairies! To the food and drink they had given her and to Nyx! Dawn could almost taste the juice on her lips, feel the soft tenderness of Nyx’s kiss. She let out a cry and ran to the tree running her hands over it frantically, looking for the door that let her into the magical world, but the door didn't appear.

“No! No no no no!” Dawn banged her fists against the tree, but it remained only a tree. “No…”

Dawn cried and leaned against the tree, sobbing painfully as she sank back down to the grass.

*

When it started to grow dark Marianne became worried. She was accustomed to her little sister staying outside until the very last rays of sunlight disappeared. Dawn had been doing that since they were kids, but after the home invasion this afternoon (though a small voice in Marianne’s head kept telling her that she knew no one had been in the house, but Marianne was not going to listen to that voice), she had hoped Dawn would return early.

But as the sun’s light faded Marianne felt sick, worry in her stomach. With a determined set of her shoulders, she set out to find her sister. She started to wonder if whoever had been in the house messing with her had found her little sister and hurt her? Marianne bit down on the fear as she set out into the back garden to find her sister. If someone had hurt Dawn there was going to be hell to pay. Marianne would rain down hell on the nearby village like the horseman of war. They wouldn't know what hit them!

Marianne grabbed a flashlight before she headed out to search for Dawn since the evening darkness was falling fast.

*

When Marianne heard the crying she immediately knew it was her sister--she would know the sound of Dawn’s crying anywhere. Marianne took off at a run following the sounds of her sister’s weeping to find Dawn lying on her side, curled up at the base of the biggest tree Marianne had even seen.

“Dawn! Dawn!! Oh my god Dawn, what happened!?” Marianne dropped to her knees by her little sister, dropping the flashlight and rolled her over. “Dawn! It’s me Marianne! What happened?” Marianne pulled her sister up and into her arms. Dawn wrapped her arms around Marianne continuing to cry.

“I can’t get back! I can’t get back to him!”

Marianne frowned in confusion. “Can’t get back where? To who? Dawn, did someone hurt you?”

Marianne held her sister back and took her face in her hands forcing her sister to look at her. “Dawn, tell me what happened.”

Marianne went pale looking at her sister. Dawn had dark circles under her eyes, which made the skull underneath seem more pronounced and her skin, which almost always had seemed lit from within, looked pale, almost transparent, but the worst part was Dawn’s eyes. Her little sister’s light blue eyes that usually sparkled with mischief and happiness no matter the situation, looked faded, the pupils too large and glassy, like her sister was on some sort of drug.

“Dawn! What happened?!” Marianne gave her sister a slight shake on her shoulders.

Dawn whispered. “The fairies Marianne, I found fairies and they gave me the most delicious food and drink...and Nyx, the handsomest of them all, kissed me!”

Marianne frowned, her expression bewildered and fearful. “Dawn, there are no fairies.”

“No no, Marianne I saw them! They were so beautiful! More beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen and the food...the food Marianne.” Dawn whimpered. “I need more…”

Marianne pulled her little sister to her feet, helping Dawn to stand by leaning her against her and wrapping an arm around her waist. “We need to get you to bed,” Marianne said.

Dawn whimpered. “Marianne, I have to stay! I have to get back!”

“You need rest and a doctor,” Marianne stated as she helped her sister to walk, her heart beating hard and her blood running cold. Something was seriously wrong with Dawn and she had no idea why. What Dawn had just said, that was less believable than ghosts. Maybe she had encountered some poisonous plant, eaten something bad, or...Marianne didn’t know what. As they moved away from the tree Dawn began to cry, her sobs gut-wrenching and threatened to pull the younger woman down. Marianne kept moving, trying to keep herself under control because Dawn needed her.

*

Thang entered the hall panting for breath. He had run the rest of the way, once he was sure no one had followed him. The way through the forest was dangerous, but he had done it a million times, making his way past the deadly spiders, and past the lake where green Jenny lay asleep (she was all right too, he supposed, but she liked to flirt and Thang didn’t have time for that) and into the darker parts of the forest where the caves of the Fachan lived. (Like the green Jenny, they weren’t really that bad, just really talkative and if Thang got caught by them they would insist on tea and cakes and he wouldn’t get away until tomorrow.)

The Bog King’s castle was set in a long dead ancient tree, one of the largest in the forest. The inside of the tre had been carved into chambers and stairs by Bog and his goblins, the opening decorated with the skull of some long dead beast, the name of which Thang couldn’t recall. The guards at the front of the castle had simply waved when they saw Thang, not bothering to make him say the password (everyone knew Thang) and he had rushed into the castle.

He stopped in the hall to gather his breath, his hands on his knees, taking in great gulps of air when his heart nearly stopped at the sight of Stuff waddling down the hall toward him. She was plump and green with tiny black eyes, webbed ears, and a large lipped, beautiful mouth, simply the most beautiful goblin Thang had ever seen! Every time she was near him, he couldn’t speak properly! She made him more clumsy and awkward than he already was and she was the king’s bodyguard, which meant he had to speak to her a lot! Thang had been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out, to take her to the swamp, but he still hadn’t. Spying was clearly easier than asking a girl for time together.

Stuff frowned when she saw him in the hall. “Thang? What are you doing here?” Stuff hurried over and helped him to stand. “Is everything all right? You’re not hurt are you?”

Thang shook his head. “No, no I’m fine,” he said, pleased to at least not stutter in front of her. “But I have news for Bog!”

Stuff frowned. “Bad news or good news?”

Thang looked upset when he whispered, “Bad news.”

Stuff sighed. “Damn it. All right, you better come on, but he isn’t in a good mood. His mother brought another bunch of suitors to the castle...again.”

Thang grimaced. Great, if Griselda brought another group of females to the castle to throw at Bog for his potential queen, that meant the king was going to be cranky. Very cranky.

They made their way down the dimly lit halls, which were strangely vacant, which meant Bog’s mood must be really bad Thang thought. Really, terribly bad. When they were within a few feet of the closed heavy wood doors to the receiving room where Bog’s throne sat, Stuff and Thang heard the loud voices of the king and his mother shouting at each other.

“Mother!! I told you no more suitors!!” Bog King’s voice rang out in exasperation and anger. “I am never getting married!! Love doesn’t exist!! So please let it go!”

This was followed by his mother Griselda yelling. “Oh, relax your thorax! They were all beautiful and perfect for you and you didn’t even give them a look!”

“I DON'T NEED TO!!” Bog shouted back. “I’M NOT INTERESTED!!” Even on the other side of the door Thang and Stuff could hear the dry, harsh rattle of Bog’s wings that fluttered when he felt frustration.

“Bog King, don’t you take that tone of voice with your mother!” Griselda yelled back. “I just don’t want you to die alone!”

Bog snarled back. “Maybe I want to die alone!”

On the other side of the door, Stuff grimaced holding up her hand. “I’m so sorry for what's about to happen to you.”

Thang stared at her. “Uh-oh.”

She knocked. Bog’s angry voice resounded through the chamber and through the closed door. “OPEN!”

Stuff pushed one of the doors open with some effort, letting Thang enter first with her following behind him. Thang saw Bog up on the dais near his throne, pacing back and forth, his wings fluttering in aggravation while his mother sat on her chair by his throne, her arms crossed over her chest and glaring at her son. Bog was extremely tall, slender with pointed ears along with a pointed chin, nose and cheekbones, bright, blue eyes, broad spiked shoulders, and covered in a thick scale-like armor, including the softer layers that made up his hair (which looked more leaf-like) with pale iridescent dragonfly-like wings. Conversely, his mother, in a pale, mildew colored shapeless dress, was short, plump with frizzy red hair, tiny black eyes, not a scale on her, or wings. Thang had heard it said that Bog took after his father, but Thang hadn’t been born when Bog’s father was king.

Bog turned to look at them, piercing both Stuff and Thang with his intense blue eyed gaze.

“What is it?” he ground out through lips pulled tight over his sharp, crooked teeth.

Stuff gently pushed Thang forward.

Thang shuffled forward, his hands clenched in front of him. “Your majesty, I have news from the goblin market.”

Bog frowned and sat down on his throne, reaching for his staff that lay against the arm. He looked down at Thang, his grip tight on the staff. “What did you see?” Bog asked, his voice neutral, but Thang could see the tension in Bog’s eyes.

Thang swallowed. “A human appeared. She…”

“WHAT!!?” Bog sprang to his feet again. “A human?!”

Thang nodded. “A human girl, very pretty, but Nyx was there and…”

Bog dropped back to his throne, his hand rising to cover his face. “Oh no.”

Griselda paled. “Did she eat?”

Thang nodded. “Nyx enchanted her. She ate some fruit and drank some wine...then he kissed her.”

Bog looked up over the top of his fingers, which he had pressed against his face, glancing at Thang before he dropped his hand to lay against the arm of his throne. “That foul bastard,” Bog muttered.

Griselda frowned and addressed Thang. “Is she still here? In our lands?”

Thang shook his head. “I don’t know--I returned here just after she ate the food.”

Bog pressed his lips together. “I need to know, find out where she is. If she is here, I don’t know if we can help her. I’ll try, but if Nyx sent her back, then there is something I can do. Do you know what entrance she came through?”

Thang shook his head, but his eyes lit up a moment later. “Oh, she mentioned being from Blair Castle!”

Bog frowned. “Blair Castle? I thought that entrance long sealed…”

Griselda reached out to lay a hand on her son’s arm. “Bog, you have to send someone to check on this girl to see if they sent her back. She’ll waste away…”

Bog interrupted his mother. “I know...I’ll go myself.”

“Bog, you can’t!” Griselda protested, but Bog shook his head. “This is too important. These were my lands that are now being abused and if this human was hurt because of that, then I, as the rightful king, should extend my offer of help personally.” Bog stepped down from his throne, staff in hand. “It’s only right,” he murmured. “If I had been stronger, none of this would have happened.”

He moved to the doors, stopped to turn to his mother. “I’m going to speak with Plum,” he said before he pushed the large double doors open with ease and stepped through.

Griselda watched her angry son march off with a cold stone of worry in her heart.

Chapter Text

Marianne flicked on the bedside light and laid Dawn down in her bed.

By the time she had gotten her sister into the house, guided her through the downstairs rooms to their shared bedroom, Dawn was running a severe fever. Marianne’s little sister felt so hot that Marianne was sweating from simply holding her as she guided Dawn through the house.

Once she had Dawn in bed, Marianne stripped her sister to her to her panties, pulled on a clean shirt over Dawn’s head, and finished dressing her like she was a toddler again. Adhereing to the old adage of feeding a fever, she wrapped Dawn in blankets. Dawn had began to alternate from sweating to shivering, each condition coming on as quick as Dawn’s next breath. During the entire process, Dawn sobbed, great wrenching sobs that made her slender frame shake.

“Dawn...” Marianne said, feeling helpless as she ran her fingers through her little sister’s sweaty hair once she had Dawn laying down and covered up. Worry creased Marianne’s brow. “What happened Dawn?”

Dawn opened her feverish eyes, which were dilated like she was on some sort of drug, her eyes glowed in the room’s dim light. When she spoke, her voice was soft, a whisper Marianne could barely hear.

“They were so beautiful Marianne, the fairies were so beautiful.” Her little sister’s voice sounded faded to Marianne, as if the life were draining from her Dawn and turning her into a ghost. The thought was chilling after Marianne’s afternoon. She shivered and frowned, looking down at her little sister.

Dawn closed her eyes again. Marianne stroked her face, frowning, and gazing at her little sister. Maybe it was Marianne’s worry and imagination, but Dawn’s skin looked paler, while her bright blonde hair looked faded. Marianne shivered. It had to be an illusion brought on by her worry; Dawn was not actually fading, that was ridiculous. After sitting with her sister for a little longer, and making sure Dawn’s breathing wasn’t labored, Marianne stood up. She hesitated, held her hand to Dawn’s forehead. The younger woman’s skin still felt so hot that Marianne felt certain it would burn her fingers. She sighed and withdrew her hand from her sister’s forehead. Dawn became fitful almost as soon as Marianne was on her feet, her head tossing, and she began to murmur, something about grapes and kisses.

Marianne dragged her hands over her own face as fear mixed with frustration. She had no idea what she should do, no idea what was wrong with Dawn. Was it just a bad cold, maybe the flu? Had Dawn eaten something? Imbibed something? Was it mold maybe? Marianne sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands to force herself not to cry.

There was a doctor in the local town, a general practitioner. They hadn’t actually met the man yet, and Marianne wasn’t even sure of his name, number, or where to find him. The only reason she even knew there was a doctor in town was because she had overheard a couple of older women discussing the doctor when she had been in town for groceries. The two sisters had been so focused on the house that she and Dawn hadn't really met a lot of people yet. Marianne supposed she could simply go in town and ask around, but she didn’t want to leave Dawn alone either. There wasn’t a hospital nearby; the closest one was many miles away. She wasn’t even sure if there was anything like an emergency room or an urgent care center. Marianne cursed at herself under her breath. This was information that she should have had before she and her sister even moved here! But they had been so excited by the house and Scotland that things like doctors and hospitals had been the furthest thing from their minds.

Marianne worried at her bottom lip as she gazed at her sister and decided to wait. Her little sister had a fever and was a little delirious, but that was no reason for her to run around like a beheaded chicken. It wasn’t as if her sister was a toddler--she was an adult. Marianne would just keep her warm--or cool, depending--keep liquids in her, fix her some chicken soup (she was pretty sure they had a can or two in the kitchen) and wait. She would let Dawn sleep and if she wasn’t any better in the morning, then she would drive to town and fetch the doctor. Marianne took a deep calming breath. Now that she had made a decision, she just needed to remain calm. Maybe make some coffee or tea…

She leaned over and kissed her sister on the forehead, feeling the burn of Dawn’s fever on her lips before she made her way to the kitchen.

Marianne didn’t see the wisp of smoke in the corner of the room, just barely holding together the shape of a woman. The figure dispersed as the breeze of Marianne’s passing was enough to break apart the flimsiness of the body, vanishing the shape once more to nothingness.

*

Nyx arrived at the royal court, landing lightly on the dark stone steps. The two redcaps that guarded the outside gate both jumped a foot in the air, making Nyx grin with vicious pleasure. The steps that led up to the castle were slick with blood, which made Nyx sigh. He couldn’t understand why being evil had to be quite so messy all the time. He had no issue with killing, drinking the blood of his victims, sucking their essence away--he just didn’t see why one couldn’t clean up afterwards? He knew partly the blood on the stairs was a warning, a threat, but he also knew that Liri was a slob and Lalnan revelled a little too much in blood. He did miss that aspect of Bog being king; the castle was always impeccably clean.

Nyx walked up the steps, neither redcap guard stopping him. Instead they stared at him from under their blood soaked red caps, their dark eyes wide and frightened, and their sharp fangs quivered. Nyx smiled, he liked when those lower than him knew to be afraid.

Once he had stepped past the gate, he stepped into complete darkness that took even his fairy eyes a few moments to adjust to. After a few moments of waiting, his eyes could pick out the dark purple light that emanated from the magical lights along the walls. Nyx had lived in the castle before, before the twin Queen and King. The castle had always been dark, filled with shadows and moonlight, but there had also been a lightness to the castle. The dark that filled the castle then was the darkness of old forests, moonlight meadows, quiet winter nights, and the soft chill of autumn nights as the world died and slumbered. But since their majesties, Queen Lalnan and her brother King Liri ousted the weak Bog King, King Bog, his cousin, the castle had become a place filled with horrors, the darkness of nightmares, of poisonous swamps, a dead trees, the smell of the grave, with an everpresent chill of death. Twisted creatures roamed the castle halls, the darkness so thick and wicked that even Nyx felt the fear at times, felt the pressure of a hundred blind eyes on his back.

Nyx stood up straight and let a shudder roll through his body. He was in his true form, not the glamor that made him appear as a handsome elven fey. He held his head up, his horns stretched back over his back, curling upward into wicked points, his face narrow and covered in bark-like skin. Fangs filled his mouth and he hunched as he walked. His wings, leathery appendages shaped like a dragonfly’s wings, folded against his back as he walked the halls of the castle.

As he neared the throneroom, Nyx could hear screaming. While he enjoyed many darker practices, torture was not one of them. Queen Lalnan, however, loved torture.

Nyx entered the throne room (again the redcaps on guard duty knew not to interfere with Nyx, the trusted spy for the king and queen) and looked around, his gaze roaming over the royal decor. The throne room was vast, the largest single room in the castle, even bigger than the ballroom Nyx thought as he looked around. Lalnan had made a few changes since his last visit. The room was lit with a pale blue glow that Nyx could see came from a variety of sources, some living, such as the lanterns that held trapped pixies banging their little fists against the enchanted glass that would hold them until their deaths or when they were set free (which he doubted) and the large patches of glowing mushrooms that grew in the corners of the room in large bunches. The old chandelier of twisted branches had been replaced with a new chandelier of bone and he frowned slightly when he saw that Lalnan had gone ahead with her idea of using the bodies of the dead to decorate throne room. He saw not only pinned wings--ripped from the backs of fairies and spread out and pinned like tapestries along the walls of the chamber--but also the crucified remains of the Queen’s and King’s enemies decorating the odd corner along with several large burning braziers.

Nyx sighed, not for the first time wondering if he had chosen the correct side in the fight as he walked into the chamber and headed toward the thrones where Queen Lalnan and her twin brother King Liri sat. As Nyx approached the sibling monarchs, he was once more struck by the contrast of the twins to the darkness of the castle. They both had skin white as newly fallen snow, their hair long and silken, the color of spun spiderwebs. They were both tall and slender, both dressed in white with Lalnan in a long white gown of spider silk that had been woven with clear crystals so that the dress twinkled in the light. The dress fit to her figure showing off her narrow curves. It was sleeveless showing off deceptively delicate arms and had a high collar that rose up behind her in a twist of ivory. On her head she wore a crown of rough crystals. Her brother Liri wore a suit cut to fit his equally slender figure, his long white hair held back from his beautiful face by a crown of bleached bone. The only aspect of their persons that wasn’t white were their eyes. The twins’ eyes were completely black, devoid of white or anything other than black. Looking into the eyes of the twins was like gazing into an abyss.

As Nyx approached, he saw a goblin prostate on the steps to the thrones and begging. “Please oh most beautiful queen, most angelic king, spare this one!!”

Queen Lalnan gave her brother an amused look. “What do you think, my brother, shall we spare it?”

King Liri leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know dear sister. This filth hunted in our forest without permission. Ate meat that was destined for our table.” Liri smiled. “But I feel benevolent.”

Lalnan tilted her head, smiling softly at the goblin. “You are forgiven. Go.”

“Thank you! Thank you!!” The goblin quickly stood up and turned, fleeing back down the steps, so he didn’t see Liri stand up and pull a gold and jeweled hilted dagger from the folds of his clothing. In a swift motion, the king threw it. The dagger struck the goblin in the back of it’s neck. The poor creature looked down in surprise to see the gleaming metal point of the dagger sticking out from its throat just under its chin before it collapsed.

Liri laughed. “Take it and feed it to that criminal’s family! They want meat, then they shall have it!”

The gathered crowd of creatures both noble and common applauded their king. Nyx sighed, but clapped as well. How dull, he thought.

Queen Lalnan spotted him, and quirked a white brow at him as she motioned him forward.

Nyx walked down the center of the vast room, all eyes on him, then took several steps up until he was only a handful of steps from the Queen and King. It was a sign of great trust and power for him to be able to approach this close to their royal personages. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head and looking down at the floor.

“Nyx, you honor us with your presence. It has been a long time since last you were in the court.” Queen Lalnan smiled and if Nyx hadn’t known her better, he would have fallen for that smile, but he did know her.

“I am sorry to interrupt the court, your majesties, but I came with important news.” Nyx didn’t look up as he spoke.

Liri snorted. “What, did the prices at the market fall? Oh, maybe the peaches are extra juicy this year?” Liri sneered and laughed.

Lalnan held up a hand to silence her brother. “What is it Nyx?” she asked in a tone that Nyx thought sounded calm, but which he knew hid impending violence against anyone who displeased her.

“A human came to the market,” Nyx stated simply.

The response was immediate. The gathered court began to hiss, growl and whisper. Liri gasped, eliciting a smirk from Nyx, though he was careful to keep his expression concealed. Thank goodness he was looking down and not at the Queen and King or he might have been in trouble. Lalnan said nothing for a few seconds until finally she hissed. “Silence!”

The court quieted.

Lalnan’s voice was soft, but Nyx had no doubt everyone in the chamber could hear her. “A human?”

Nyx nodded and now dared to look up to see Lalnan’s solid black eyes on him. “Yes, a human woman. Young, very pretty, very alive. She opened the door herself--she must have because she came through the sealed door.”

Lalnan became too still. If Nyx had not known better, he would have thought her a statue.

“Which means she is touched,” Lalnan said breathlessly. “Did you give her the fruit?” she asked with only a slight tremble in her voice.

“I did, your majesty,” he confirmed. “She will be drawn back to us--she will have to come back,” Nyx said softly.

Lalnan looked to her brother, both of them sharing the same identically feral smile.

Nyx shuddered, feeling just a little sorry for the human girl who was now doomed.

*

Bog was in a fouler mood by the time he arrived at Plum’s place located deeper in the woods than even his hidden home. He hated the human world where everything was so...bright. He hated humans, always so loud and always getting into trouble.

He landed on the path, looking ahead where the twist and tangle of thorny vines made flying impossible and put his wings at risk of being torn. He sighed and began to walk, ignoring the mushrooms along the path that he knew would warn the Sugar Plum Fairy of his arrival long before he actually arrived.

Bog had come alone, though Thang had wanted to accompany his king. This mission would rely on stealth and while Bog knew Thang could be trusted, and was stealthy, the fewer of them that entered the human world the better. Besides, he needed Thang to monitor the market, and listen for the movements of the king and queen. Bog could handle his part without protection. He was a trained fighter, knew how to handle staff and sword with equal dexterity, grace, and ferocity. He had confidence in his ability to fight and defend himself (not that he saw any reason for him needing to do either on this mission.)

The other reason he didn’t want Thang with him was that Bog needed the time alone. The pressure of his mother trying to find him a mate, a wife, was becoming...he frowned. Well, it was becoming difficult for him to deal with. Bog knew his mother was only thinking of his happiness, wanting him to have someone at his side, but he just couldn’t do that. He would rather be alone than be hurt like that again.

He didn’t want to make the same mistake again, the one that had given Lalnan and her brother his throne. He had let himself be led astray because he had thought himself in love, because someone as beautiful as Lalnan had convinced him that she loved him...and then she had destroyed him. It was only luck and his mother that got him out of the castle alive. It had taken months for him to recover physically, and years mentally. He would not allow himself to make that same mistake again. Lalnan had laughed his in his face, told him that creatures like him were not to be loved, but to be pitied, at best…

There was still part of him that believed she was correct.

Bog shuddered dropping the dark thoughts from his mind like rainwater from his wings and continued to make his way along the path through the deadly thorns until he saw Plum’s home. It was a large house (that looked far too close to a human home for his liking) sitting against the base of a large oak tree. He could see she was home by the blue glow that shone out from the windows of the house.

Good, he thought. He needed to get going and the sooner he could finish this little mission, the better.

He noticed the mushrooms eyeing him as he stepped up to the door and raised his hand to knock against the wood only to hear Plum’s musical voice ring out. “It’s open, your majesty!”

Bog made a sour face and pushed the door open.

The inside of Plum’s home was like a small vibrant forest all its own. Every corner was packed with green and flowers, ferns, nightblooming primroses, tulips and daisies and rust-colored bushes. Every flora (and small fauna) that could grow in a forest was here in this home. He caught the fleeting sight of a little animal flitting through the shadows or saw the large eyes of wise looking owls watching him as he made his way toward the glittering blue glow that he knew was Plum.

He found her in the middle of her home in a large room filled to the ceiling with wild roses of every shade. In the middle sat a large black cauldron from which more blue glow spilled out as the fairy zipped around it. She hummed to herself and tossed tidbits of things into the pot, making the blue liquid inside shimmer for a moment before settling back down again into a soft blue haze.

“Bog King, the Bog King, King Bog.” Plum, whose entire body was glittering blue, as if she had stolen her form from the clear magical waters of Avalon itself, continued to zip around her cauldron at a dizzying pace.

Bog growled at her. “It’s just Bog now--and will you stop moving? I need a favor.”

Plum stopped and turned to face him from where she floated in the air. She had no wings to keep her aloft. Her body was a shifting, shimmering blue as if she had been made from magic and starlight. She was beautiful in her own way, with an impish face and large, dark blue eyes trimmed with starlight white lashes, but she was annoying, very annoying Bog thought as she focused her attention on him.

“All right Bog…” She said his name in a way that set his teeth on edge. Her voice was high in a way that made Bog wonder if the fey could shatter crystal. “What do you need?”

“I need you to open a doorway for me to Blair castle,” Bog stated folding his arms across his chest while his wings rattled lightly together.

Plum blinked as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

Bog sighed and spoke slowly. “I need you to open a doorway to Blair castle. A human was sighted in the market and Thang said she came from the sealed Blair doorway. She ate the fruit.” Bog frowned.

Plum gasped. “What???”

Bog nodded. “I need to go…”

“But you hate humans! Why would you care about one of them wasting away after being foolish enough to eat at the market?” Plum frowned, an expression that didn’t look right on her pretty little face.

Bog resisted scowling and reached back to rub the back of his neck. “Because, if I had been king, this would never have happened. The young human would have been safe with us. She would have left with pretty dreams...and playful memories rather than wasting away in torment.” His voice had grown quiet.

Plum smiled softly. “Why won’t you admit that you care Bog?”

“Because I don’t. This just shouldn’t have happened and if it wasn’t for my foolishness it would never have happened.” Bog growled. “So, can you open a doorway for me or not?”

Plum smiled and shrugged. “Sure I can, but hold on, you’ll need a way back...I have one somewhere…” she muttered to herself. “Oh, it's been so long!” Plum zipped away disappearing into her masses of roses. He could hear the sound of bottles, at least he thought it sounded like bottles, being moved around. He waited, and waited, until it had been long enough that he was becoming frustrated.

Bog growled. “Plum…”

“I found it!!” Plum came zipping out from another direction, on the opposite side of where she had gone into the roses. She was holding a necklace, dangling from her fingers and held it out from her body. The necklace had a gold chain and from the chain hung an amber stone with thin gold wires wrapped around a large chunk of uncut amber that looked to be suspended in the middle of the golden cage.

Plum smiled, gazing at the amber as it slowly spun around on the end of the chain. “This will get you back. All you have to do is walk to any tree…” Plum stopped and tapped her chin with the fingers of her other hand, looking up at the ceiling of her home. “...though an oak, ash, hazel, maybe a yew, an apple tree would work much b...”

Bog snarled. “Plum…”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “All right, anyway, take this, and don’t lose it…” She gave him a serious stare from her dark blue eyes. “...if you lose it, you’re trapped unless you can find a circle. Now, when you get to a tree--any of the ones I named--just put a drop of your blood on the stone, hold the stone as close to the tree as you can, and say, “Home.” Then...” Plum threw her arms up into the air. “Tada! A doorway. Should bring you right up to your little rebel hideout.”

She held the necklace out and dropped it into Bog’s outstretched hand. The necklace pooled in his hand, the metal cool, and the amber twinkled in the blue light shed by Plum. He took the necklace and draped it over his head, the stone falling heavily against his chest.

Plum smiled and tilted her head at him. “Need any help with your glamour? I know it's been a while…”

Bog growled at her and waved his hand down the front of his body. A shimmer distorted the air and Bog’s usual exterior or rough plates, sharp corners, claws, and dragonfly wings vanished, replaced by a human male, a very tall human male with dark hair wearing a suit of black and white with knee breeches and white stockings that would have been stylish in the 18th century. The only aspect of his appearance that a glamour couldn’t seem to affect was the blue of his eyes, which were startling. Plum had a theory about Bog’s eyes, something to do with his father and the blood of the High Fairy Kings, but now wasn’t the time for any of that.

Plum began to giggle more and more as she looked him over until she was having a fit of laughter spinning in the air. “Oh BOG! REALLY!”

Bog frowned looking down at himself. “What? This coat is quite nice.” Bog turned admiring his work on the coat and the details on the vest.

“Well for one thing Bog, you’re a few decades off!” Plum laughed merrily. “It isn’t the 1770’s out there! It’s 2019!” She squealed with laughter again and Bog glared at her.

“Fine, what would be more appropriate?”

Plum circled around him stopping in front of him with a smile. “May I?”

Bog grumbled. “Fine--yes.”

Plum rose up until she was taller than Bog and with a snap of her fingers, fairy dust began to drift slowly down on Bog changing his clothing--though not his appearance. Bog looked down to see himself now dressed in a simple grey cotton, long sleeve shirt, with a line of six buttons from the collar to the middle of his chest, three of which were unbuttoned. He wore a kilt of grey and black with a silver kilt pin shaped like a leafless tree. He had on black boots, thick black socks, and he could feel the cool metal of sgian-dubh against his calf. He wore no sporran, but Plum had also provided him with a black leather jacket that would have looked at home on any members of a motorcycle gang.

Plum grinned, pleased with herself. “Now, that’s not a glamor at all, those are all real. You’re welcome.”

Bog walked in a slow circle looking at himself and tried to refrain from smiling...but he did smile. The clothing was comfortable, as if it were made for him.

He stopped turning, looked up at Plum who hovered and waited with a smile.

Bog snorted. “It’s different. I...I like it,” he added with a soft sigh of reluctance.

Plum clapped her hands. “Oh, I knew you would. Now, just be yourself, be nice, and I hope you find that poor human before it’s too late.”

Plum began to swirl her arm in a circle, one finger pointed as a light blue light began to appear in the air, forming a circle large enough for him to step through. She spun her arm faster and faster.

“Is there anything else that’s changed beside the clothing?” Bog asked.

“Oh well, watch out for cars, planes--don’t start watching television! It’s addicting! And women wear a lot less clothing...but nope, I think that’s it!” Plum grinned as inside the circle it was early morning. The sky was grey and weak sunlight struggled to pierce the clouds. He saw a field of wildflowers, a field of yellow, white, and purple. In the distance of maybe three to four miles or so stood the castle.

Bog growled turning to glance at Plum. “That’s as close as you could get me?”

“Oh stop! Now go--I can’t hold it for long!” Plum yelled. “Oh wait!!”

Bog raced over, but turned toward Plum when she yelled for him to wait. He only had seconds to respond as she threw a strange bag at him with two straps, Bog caught the bag out of the air.

“Fairy fruit to keep this human alive until you can help her!” Plum yelled. “Now GO!”

Bog nodded and jumped through, Plum stopped her arm from circling and yelled. “Be careful Bog!”

Bog landed in a crouch in the field, turning to watch as Plum’s circle began to collapse. She waved and with a soft popping sound, the circle was gone. Bog saw a large moss covered yew tree that had formed the foundation for the portal, and surrounding Bog where he stood was a circle of red topped mushroom. He smirked, looking around a moment longer, and began to walk toward the castle--hopefully in time to save the foolish human who had stumbled into the market.

*

Morning arrived and Dawn was far worse.

Marianne hadn’t been able to sleep, staying up to make sure she was there if Dawn needed her. The fever raged through her sister all night, and to Marianne's horror, it was as if the fever was burning Dawn away. All her color was gone, her hair had begun to turn white at the roots (Marianne was sure it was a trick of the light, but no matter the light or how she looked at it, she couldn’t make the white roots of Dawn’s hair turn blonde again.)

Dawn woke erratically, murmuring about fairies and fruits again. Marianne had tried to get her to drink and eat some soup, but Dawn threw anything Marianne got into her up again until Marianne finally stopped trying because vomiting seemed to weaken her sister even more. By the time the morning sunlight filtered into the room, Dawn looked grey, her eyes sunken. Marianne dressed. She was exhausted, but she had to go find the doctor. Whatever was wrong with Dawn was only becoming worse. She pulled on jeans and a shirt, pushed her feet down into a pair of boots, and grabbed her jacket. She kissed her sister on the forehead.

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can, Dawn. I love you,” Marianne whispered. “When you’re better, I am so gonna yell at you.”

Dawn didn’t respond. Marianne felt her heart twist in her chest.

She ran out of the house, locked all the doors, and headed to the small garage on the side of the castle. The small building had been added some time in the last few decades and had mostly been used to store miscellaneous items from the castle. Marianne had been surprised to find a 1970 Triumph Bonneville T120 in surprisingly good shape. Marianne had dedicated a third of her time to working on the bike as well as the house. She had been pleased to find that it ran well and that whoever had owned it before had taken such good care of it.

She pulled the bike out, grabbed the old helmet she had found with it, and smashed the helmet onto her head. She jumped on the bike and started it up. The bike had the old rumbling sound that Marianne associated with cars of the same period. It was loud ,but somehow that made it better. She took off, pushed the bike to its limits as she headed toward the town.

*

Bog arrived at the castle an hour and a half after stepping through Plum’s portal. Despite being in the human world, the walk had been brisk and pleasant. He liked the cloudy skies and the flowers, the smell of rain on the air and soft breeze. When he arrived at the castle, he stopped outside the front door and looked up. Bog felt confident that he could help this human and be home in no time, the queen and king never the wiser that they had lost their chance at a human.

Except when Bog arrived at the castle, he found the place was quiet.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected, but it was far too quiet for a castle. He had been too occupied by the pleasantness of his walk to note that he hadn’t seen any humans around the castle as he approached.

Bog frowned with a careful look around, but he didn’t see any evidence of large numbers of humans around. His frown deepened before he reached up and knocked on the wooden door.

*

Inside, Dawn murmured in her sleep, her head tossing from one side to the other.

A white mist occupied the corner of the room where Dawn slept. When Bog knocked at the door, the filmy figure that made up the mist turned toward the sound and disappeared.

The mist, barely visible, reappeared at the locked door. It stayed by the door as if listening, or waiting before it shimmered as if struggling. The misty substance of its body disappeared...then the lock on the door flipped open with a click.

*

Bog frowned, wondering if the human woman was inside. If she had eaten the fruit, she would already be weak, wasting away. She may be dying already, depending on how much she ate and how weak or strong her constitution was…

She might not be able to come to the door…

He lay his hand against the door and jerked in surprise when the door slowly swung open. He frowned, peered inside, but the halls were dark with shadows, and he saw no one on the opposite side.

He licked his lips, feeling slightly comfortable, as if something he couldn't see was watching him, but he simply couldn’t walk away and leave this human to die, or worse.

So Bog stepped through the door.

*

Marianne was angry and scared.

She leaned forward on the bike letting the wind whip at her face.

The doctor wasn’t in town. She had been told by the grocer (thank goodness they opened so early) that he was on a fishing vacation and they didn’t expect him back until Tuesday. A kindly older woman in the grocery store had given Marianne a recipe for some tea that would help with her sister’s fever, but then had suggested the local priest for help because it sounded like a case of fairies after Marianne explained how she had found her sister. The grocer had said she could go to the next town to see their doctor or he could give them a call for her and see if their doctors were available, but it would still be several hours.

Marianne didn’t feel that she had several hours.

Marianne had done her best to be polite, then left with a bag containing ingredients for the tea. All she had to help her sister was tea!

She pushed the bike, trying to focus on the road, not her fear for her sister, not her anger at the situation and her powerlessness.

She pulled onto the lane that led to the castle, driving at top speed and not paying attention until she was almost on the castle when she looked up and saw that the front door was open.

Marianne lost control of her bike for a moment, the front wheel wobbled and she almost pitched over. She yanked the wheel to the side, skidded, but came to a stop just outside her front door.

She was on her feet, her heart hammering in her chest with fear and anger.

Whoever the fuck was messing with her had just done something monumentally stupid.

Marianne didn’t care right now if it was stupid on her part to barge in after someone had clearly broken into her home, but she was sick with worry and angry, plus her little sister was in there, alone and sick. Whoever this person was, they were going to get the shit beaten out of them and Marianne was going to enjoy doing it.

Chapter Text

The castle was quiet. Bog cocked his head to the side with a frown, listening, but he heard no footsteps, so sign of life. The house felt as if it were holding its breath, but then he heard something, the soft sound of a whispered song. He could hear the words and the soft female voice, but only barely, as if the voice and words were being snatched away on a breeze.

“I wandered alone into the forest one night

Led by a music strange to hear

And followed the glow of a shimmering light

That seemed to grow distant as I grew near…”

Bog followed the song, moving carefully through the castle. He knew this could be a trap. His knowledge of humans wasn’t that extensive; mostly he thought of them as troublesome, sticking their noses where they didn’t belong, always asking questions, or touching things they shouldn’t touch. They were worse that young goblins with their need to know and be a part of everything. He sniffed in annoyance, the whispered song fading as he entered the room from where he thought the song had originated. He did not notice the filmy white figure in the corner that faded away into the air when he entered the room.

There, lying on a bed, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks as the young woman burned up, was a human. Upon seeing her, Bog knew that this was the human female who had wandered into the goblin market, the one who was now going to waste away because she was tricked into eating the goblin fruit.

Bog’s annoyance and anger faded away the moment he saw the young woman. She was pretty, almost as pretty as a fey with hair the color of summer yarrow, with a small delicate mouth, and pert nose, but her skin was swallow and dark rings shaded the skin under her eyes. She looked delicate, as if a strong breeze would blow her away. Bog’s irritation was replaced was fear and anguish--no one should suffer like this young woman clearly was as she muttered and tossed and turned on her bed.

Bog stepped closer, crouching down beside her and laid a hand on her sweat-covered forehead. The poor thing was burning, burning hot and bright like a candle flame that could just as quickly be snuffed out.

Bog sighed as he stroked the human’s forehead gently. “Poor child,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to take you home with me if I’m to save you.”

He stood up again, thinking to pick her up and leave quickly when he heard a strange sound, like a roar. He couldn't place what animal could make such a noise, his mind racing through the catalogue of animals he knew the human world had that didn’t appear in his world...elephants? Hippopotamuses? Buffalo?

The raucous sound of the monster was quickly followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running footsteps, and a voice yelling out, ringing through the halls of the castle.

“ALL RIGHT! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU??”

*

Marianne was in the living room by the fireplace, her eyes narrowed in anger as she breathed fast and heavy. She hadn’t planned on yelling like that, but she wanted a confrontation, she wanted a fight with whoever had thought it was okay to break into her home. She had also thought that maybe yelling would draw the punk away from her sister--that is if they had found her...or if anyone was even in the house.

She felt her anger on the rise with each breath she took. She was furious and scared. Her sister was sick and some fucking asshole had broken into her home and…

She turned, something alerting her to a presence, like a strange caress against her cheek only to see a shadow. The shadow moved toward her and Marianne took a step back. The man, it had to be a man, was the tallest man Marianne had ever seen (not on a basketball court). The man was tall, slender, but with broad shoulders that spoke of strength. He held his hands up to show that he was unarmed and as he stepped closer to her into the living room, the light leaking in through the windows showed Marianne that the man had sharp features, high model-worthy cheekbones, a long jaw with a sharp chin, incredibly sexy lips, thick black hair, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen on anyone, ever. The man’s eyes had to be contacts she thought briefly, because no one had eyes that blue.

Marianne took a startled step back.

Bog was surprised when he saw the other woman. She, like the one under the spell, was fey pretty. He blinked and thought that beautiful was a better word for her. Her hair was the color of walnut shells and her eyes were like the warm brown of a fall leaves, framed in lashes so dark they could have been made from the midnight sky. She was tiny like the other woman, petite and delicate looking, but there was a strength about her he could almost feel vibrating on the air around her. Her mouth was a delicate rosebud with a soft purple blush that was begging to be kissed.

Bog was seldom surprised, but this creature surprised him with how he felt, a strange and instant attraction to her that he squashed down deep at the same time. He had no right to feel anything toward anyone he chided himself.

The man spoke softly and Marianne noted the thick Scottish accent that wasn’t quite Scottish, it was and it wasn’t... “Now don’t be frightened caile, I ain’t here to hurt ye, I’ve…”

Marianne snarled and grabbed for the first thing she could get her hands on, which luckily was the fireplace poker from the set she had purchased not long after they had moved in. The set wasn’t the traditional iron color (though the core of it was iron, only covered in copper), but a more updated copper version that she had purchased because she liked the copper color over the black iron. She grabbed it up out of the stand where several other fireplace instruments sat and held it out like a sword toward the tall man with the weird, attractive eyes. “All right buddy, I don’t know who you think you are, but no one comes into my house and messes with me and my sister!”

Bog frowned confused. “Buddy? I am the Bog King and I’ve come to save your sister from the magic that has…”

Bog didn’t get to finish before the young, pretty human woman took the makeshift weapon she had pulled from among other strangely shaped weapons and lunged at him with a battle cry. Bog blinked in surprise and reached down, grabbing a weapon from the small arsenal from which she had pulled her own. The weapon, which had an odd, flat shovel-like end to it, was metal, copper judging by the look of it, but he could still feel the intense cold of the iron that must be at its core.

He hissed, bringing the weapon up in time to block her assault. The cold burned, but not as badly as it would have if he had been touching the iron barehanded, and the weapon felt much heavier than it looked. Nausea washed over him, generated from the iron embedded in the copper, just a hint around the edges. If he didn’t finish this fight with this young woman soon, she would beat him simply because the iron poisoning would soon weaken him.

Bog blocked another swipe of the fireplace poker and pushed her back with one firm hand.

Marianne stumbled back several steps, but quickly regained her footing, holding the poker out like a sword. “What have you done to my sister?!” she yelled.

Bog groaned. “I haven’t done anything to your sister! I don’t even know who your sister is!”

Marianne snarled. The bastard! She let out another yell and charged. Bog threw himself out of the way and was forced to dance across the room, avoiding the human female’s thrusts with the poker as she tried repeatedly to stab him.

Marianne snarled and hissed like an angry cat. The man was too nimble for his size, avoiding her attacks like a jerk!

Bog hissed. “That blonde in the other room--that’s your sister I gather?”

Marianne glared. “You don’t even know her name, do you?” And his words confirmed he had wandered through their home, had seen Dawn.

She lunged again, taking several stabs at him, but the tall man who had called himself the Bog King danced away from her, using the shovel to easily block her attempts at skewering him.

“Why would I know her name?!” Bog yelled at her. “I only just arrived here!”

“Because…” Marianne lunged, their metal weapons clanging loudly in the room as he blocked her at each turn. “...you made her sick or poisoned her!!”

Bog twisted around, blocking her again and again, though the weapon grew heavier and harder for him to hold. His hand was burning with the cold that seeped through the copper coating. He needed to end this before he suffered any permanent damage, but this human was surprisingly good with a blade--or makeshift weapon. She would probably be very dangerous with a real sword in her hands.

Bog groaned. “I didn't do anything to her. She wandered into the goblin market and was tricked into eating the fruit by a nasty goblin named Nyx. One of my spies…”

Bog danced back as Marianne slammed her weapon down at him. He used the shovel to knock her arm to the side.

“Spies?” Marianne growled, driving Bog back to a corner of the room. The man seemed for a moment like he might be pinned, but he gracefully knocked her weapon away and danced out from under her next assault, putting space between himself and the wall.

Marianne growled. “You have spies, you dirty…”

Bog groaned. “Not like...this is ridiculous!! You are being stupid!”

Marianne gasped, which quickly turned into a hiss. “Stupid!! Just like a man! I’m going to beat you to within an inch of your life you asshole!”

“What's that’s supposed to mean! And I’m not a man!! I’m not an asshole! I’m not even HUMAN!!” Bog snarled in anger as his shovel and Marianne’s poker clashed with a loud ringing sound.

Bog twisted his wrist, needing to end this fight. The cold had turned his fingers numb and was working its way up his arm. He could feel already that he was going to have burns, but the longer he was forced to hold this weapon, the worse it was going to be for him. The nausea had grown strong enough now that he felt ready to vomit or pass out, neither of which was a good option.

Bog pressed his attack; he didn't want to hurt the pretty young woman, but he needed this stopped right now. He thrust out and caught her weapon with the shovel end, and with an elegant twist and flick of his wrist, ripped the poker from her hand, surprising himself when he disarmed her.

Marianne yelped in surprise. Her hand had been sweating, the poker becoming slick in her grasp when the bastard disarmed her. He smiled at her, showing off...fangs? Did he have fanged teeth? But the stray thought was quickly forgotten when her poke flipped up into the air.

The poker flew up into the air, just barely missing the chandelier. They both looked up following the weapon’s trajectory through the air...

Marianne glanced at the attractive man. Why was he attractive?? She thought with annoyance, her nose wrinkled and a scowl appearing between her brows. His attention was on the poker, so Marianne took advantage and punched the man in the chest.

Bog yelped and coughed in surprise, a hand going to his chest. He stumbled back from the woman who danced into his place and caught the weapon out of the air, at the same time doing an elegant turn only to bring the poker around, the point of it now under his chin.

Bog looked down at the poker, his blue eyes wide. The cold coming off of the poker sent a light burning sensation along his throat and chin. He glanced at her, their eyes meeting, both of them frowning as something passed between them. They both felt it, like a string drawn tight between them when Bog suddenly yelped in pain and dropped the shovel.

Marianne jumped at the sudden crash of the shovel hitting the floor and frowned in confusion as the man held his palm up and she could see that the skin was red and blistering like he had been burned.

Once more they stared at each other when they were interrupted by a voice.

“Marianne? What’s going on? I don’t feel so good and...and why is there a bug man in the living room? Oohh...he has such pretty wings!”

Both Bog and Marianne turned to see Dawn standing in the hallway, her skin nearly translucently pale, her eyes a feverish blue. Dawn looked between her sister and Bog in confusion just before her knees gave out.

Bog moved swiftly, dashing across the room to catch the fragile young woman and preventing her from hitting the floor.

“Dawn!” Marianne cried out, rushing over to her sister.

Bog frowned looking down at the feverish young woman in his arms. She had passed out again, her eyes closed, looking like a fairy princess under a curse.

Bog looked to Marianne. “We need to get your sister help, and soon.”

Marianne frowned at him, but said nothing.

*

A little while later Bog and Marianne were both sitting near the bed where Dawn lay, looking as if she were fading away. Her skin was pale and sweat covered; even her hair looked faded to Marianne.

Marianne glanced at the tall man as he watched her sister with what looked to her to be concern. The only reason she hadn’t belted him in the jaw and tied him to a chair was because he was so gentle with Dawn. He had caught her sister, holding Dawn gently and asked where he could put her. If he hadn’t been so...gentlemanly...she would have given him a knuckle sandwich or a kick in the crotch. But when Marianne saw him holding her sister, she had suddenly felt lost and alone. There was no one here to help her and now that Dawn was sick…

A part of her hoped maybe this strange man did know something that could save her sister from whatever had happened to her. Dawn--and Marianne--needed help.

Marianne reached over and stroked her sister’s cheek. Dawn’s cheek felt hot. She had laid a damp cloth over Dawn’s forehead, but it did nothing to cool her off; she was burning away like a candle about to go out.

“So, let me get this straight...” Marianne said, her focus on her sister while she spoke. “You are the Bog King, whatever that means. Do I call you Bog, or King?”

Bog gave her a close-lipped smile. “Bog is fine.”

Marianne nodded and continued gazing at her sister. “...and these evil fairies, a brother and sister, tricked you and took your kingdom. Now you live in exile. The jerks are in charge of your kingdom and this goblin market place now, where fairy food that is poisonous to humans is sold and tricked my sister into eating one of these poisoned fruits, right?” Marianne’s eyes finally flicked up to him.

Bog nodded. “Yes. That’s the simple version. Not all fairy food is poisonous, however. Look, it’s complicated...”

Marianne nodded glancing back at her sister. “And you came here to find my sister and bring her back with you to help her.”

Bog nodded. “Yes.”

Marianne frowned and sucked on the side of her upper lip. “Why?”

Bog frowned pressing his lips together while he absently rubbed his long ring finger. “Well, I feel responsible. If I hadn’t lost my kingdom if I hadn’t let that…” He closed his eyes continuing to rub absently at the knuckle of his ring finger, his voice soft. “If I hadn’t let myself think I was worthy of love, then none of this would have happened. The kingdom would be safe, my people would be happy and not living in hiding, and your sister would never have been hurt.” He frowned and glanced at Marianne. “If I had my kingdom, your sister would simply have been welcomed and would have left with a fairy story to tell and nothing more.”

Marianne stared back at him, pressing her lips together, her beautiful brown eyes filled with need.

Bog watched her, could tell she wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but was having a very hard time with the idea of hidden kingdoms, fairies, goblins, and magical poison curses.”

He sighed and rubbed his hands along his thighs. “Perhaps the best thing I can do is let you see through my glamour.”

Marianne glanced at his hands. The fingers were long, graceful, his blue eyes were intense, and she still had to believe it was contacts that made his eyes so blue. Her gaze had dropped to his lips, tracing the sensual curve of them until her attention snapped back to what he was saying. She felt bad for having let her mind wander while her sister was suffering just because this asshole was attractive.

“What do you mean glamour?” Marianne asked with a furrowed brow.

Bog stood up and Marianne realized his height was even more impressive up close. “Your sister saw through my glamour when she briefly woke. That is because of the magic that is in her system at the moment, I believe, but you see me as a human man.”

Marianne smirked. “So, you’re saying that you are a giant bug?”

Bog looked annoyed. “I’m saying I’m not human and I can prove it to you if you would stand.” He motioned for her to stand up.

Marianne narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this a trick?”

“No, I promise it’s no trick.” Bog smiled and Marianne found herself believing him as she stood up.

Bog stepped closer to her, his hands held up, again drawing her attention to the length of his fingers. “I”m going to need to touch you for this...your face, that is. I need to touch your face.” He could see she was about to angrily protest so he quickly finished his sentence before she could attack him because he knew she would. He had a sense this human woman was easily provoked to violence, more so than the average human, but then again, his experiences with humans were very limited.

Marianne stood up, her pretty mouth set in a frown. “All right, but if you try anything…”

Bog nodded. “Yes yes, you beat me within an inch of my life, we’ve covered that. All right now. Close your eyes…” He reached out and very gently cupped her face in his hands.

Marianne glared back at him, but his hands were warm, and his touch made her tremble as that warmth seeped into her skin and moved slowly through her body. Damn it, she liked the way his hands felt against her skin. “Tell me what you are going to do,” Marianne muttered trying to stay annoyed.

Bog sighed. He could tell this woman was going to be exasperating. “I’m going to kiss your eyes, it will allow you to see my true form.”

“Kiss?” Marianne quirked a brow at him and Bog sighed again. “Look, it’s magic, just accept that this is magic so I don't have to stand here and explain it to you all right? Unless you want a complicated explanation of the magical theory.”

(In reality, it was the saliva of a fairy that could allow her to see through his glamour, not the “nicest” thing in the world. Humans probably didn’t like being spit in the eyes. No one liked being spit in the eye he supposed, but a kiss would transfer enough to give her the sight.)

Marianne gave him a dirty look, but she supposed if it didn’t work she was close enough to punch him in the gut--or lower. “Fine.”

Marianne closed her eyes.

Bog took a moment to examine her face. Now that she wasn’t trying to kill him, he could appreciate even more now how lovely she was. Even by the high standards of Fairie, she was beautiful.

Bog smiled, leaning in to lightly kiss each of her eyes.

When Bog’s lips touched her closed eyes, she felt a shiver run down her spine. His lips were soft, like flower petals being pressed to her eyelids, warm and satin soft. She briefly wondered what kissing those lips would feel like. She blinked in surprise at her own thought, opening her eyes to stare at him. He looked into her eyes with those amazingly blue orbs of his, looking so handsome… Then, while he still held her face in his hands Marianne watched in shock as the illusion that covered him rolled away to reveal the same face, but this time darker, the skin a shade of grey. His hair turned into what looked like layers of leaves, his broad shoulders became layered armored plates, he became taller yet and thinner--almost gaunt, yet powerful in appearance. His already amazing eyes became a more vivid blue, his nose sharpened, and his cheekbones grew more pronounced. The top of his ears lengthened to points and around his neck hung an amber pendant. Marianne felt the claws on his hands against her skin. His body looked as if it were made of layers of armored hide, and when he gave her a shy smile, the fangs that she had thought she had seen earlier became more pronounced. She stared in disbelief, but the moment that broke her stunned silence was when she heard the dry rattle followed by seeing Bog’s four, dragonfly shaped wings flare out behind him.

Marianne screamed in shock and punched Bog in the gut.

Bog had the air forced out of him in an explosive cough. He let go of her and stumbled back, holding his stomach.

“Fooking hell! Ma tha! That fookin hurt!” Bog glared at her. “Is hitting some sort of new human greeting or is it just you who likes to fookin hit people!” Bog flopped down in the chair he had been sitting in before, his wings moving to the side so that he wouldn’t crush them.

Marianne had stumbled to the other side of the room after she hit him, her eyes wide staring at him. “You’re a fucking bug!”

“I am not!!” Bog sat up straight looking indignant, his wings rattling irritably. “I’m the Bog King...and I’m half-goblin...I am not a bug.” He muttered under his breath, “The nerve.”

Marianne blinked, his words sinking in. Goblins, fairies, curses, spells...ah shit. “This is all real isn’t it?”

Bog smiled at her, showing off his slightly crooked fanged teeth. “I’m afraid so.”

Marianne fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor, her eyes wide. Bog started to stand, not sure if he should go help her. Was she going to pass out or vomit or…?

Marianne wrapped her arms around her knees, her eyes too wide as she stared at him. Bog stayed mostly still, though he began to rub the back of his neck nervously; being stared at made him uncomfortable. He should have known he wasn’t going to handle this job well. He wasn't the most level headed of people at the best of times. He didn’t know enough about humans either, but he suspected this female was different even by human standards. At least she wasn’t screaming he thought to himself. That was nice.

Bog waited patiently, rubbing the back of his neck occasionally or holding his hands together, threading his fingers, or twirling his thumbs, his wings giving a dry rattle while Marianne simply sat on the floor watching him.

She stared at the man who wasn’t a man now, but a still weirdly attractive...fairy? He didn’t look a thing like any of the fairies she had seen in books, no angelic good looks that made her want to throw herself down on her knees or hide from him. He had wings, not butterfly wings--more like a dragonfly’s--but they were still beautiful. As he sat awkwardly in the chair, his wings held at a funny position, the light coming in through the window made his wings glitter with iridescent color. The more she studied him, her shock slowly lessening, the more she saw him as something beautiful. He was so odd-looking, so different, but there was something graceful and elegant about him too. Marianne realized she would love to see him fly, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over him. Would he feel rough or smooth, would he feel hard or soft...and was he technically naked?

That last thought made her blush.

After a couple of minutes of Marianne staring at him, Bog became uncomfortable enough that he finally whispered. “So, ah, are you going to scream, hit me again, or can we try and save your sister?”

Marianne took a breath and whispered. “I would like to save my sister, please.”

Bog smiled at her (which gave her pleasant goosebumps) and stood slowly as to not frighten Marianne, his wings rattling lightly. “Then we need to find a tree, oak, hazel, yew, or apple?” He tilted his head waiting for her to respond. Marianne slowly pushed herself to her feet.

“Ah...there’s a yew tree at the far left side of the house…at least I think it’s a yew tree...” Marianne murmured. “I remember being told there was a very old yew tree on the property near the house…”

Bog reached over and gently picked up Dawn. Marianne watched him as he eased her sister into his arms. The care that he showed while grasping Dawn brought a smile to Marianne’s face.

Bog turned to face Marianne, holding her sister close to his chest. His wings made a nervous, dry rattle. “Please, lead the way.”

*

Outside in the fading sunlight, Bog looked even stranger. He clearly didn’t belong in this world Marianne thought as she watched him carrying her sister. She couldn’t help but continue to stare, taking in his long legs and long, clawed feet. He looked more dangerous in the sunlight outside than when he was sitting in her home twirling his thumbs. It was odd, she thought, how he could look both dangerous and vulnerable at the same time.

Marianne led him around the house, neither of them aware of the white, ghostly figure that watched them from the upper windows of the castle.

Marianne pointed at a large tree with wide, thick branches that looked much like an open hand covered in green needle-like leaves, like an evergreen with red berries mixed in. The tree was one of the largest trees Marianne had seen, and if she had been a little girl she would have climbed up to the very top of the tree. This tree would have become a secret hideout for younger Marianne, a place to hide away and live out her little girl fantasies of enchanted forests and magical creatures, except she supposed that was all real now...wasn’t it?

Bog stopped in front of the tree, his wings rattling softly as he examined it, which made Marianne wonder if that was a nervous habit since he had done it several times already. The urge to reach out and touch one of his wings became stronger when she stopped to stand beside him looking at the tree.

Marianne waited, watching Bog as he examined the tree before he nodded. “Yes, this will do.” He turned to give her an apologetic expression. “Do you mind holding your sister for a moment?”

“‘Course not,” Marianne said softly.

Bog smiled a little and eased Dawn into her sister’s arms. Marianne was surprised at how light Dawn felt in her arms, too light for a young woman her size. That knowledge scared her.

Marianne watched Bog as he walked over to the tree. “So, ah, what are you going to do?”

Bog smiled at her. “Just watch.”

Bog held his hand up, palm up, and Marianne watched as he dragged one of his sharp claws across his open palm, splitting open his palm. Bog inhaled sharply at the pain. Marianne gasped at the sight of his blood, red like her own. Bog clenched his bloody hand into a fist over the pendant that he held out. Bright red drops of blood leaked from Bog’s fist and splashed onto the amber pendant. She watched in fascination as the blood-soaked into the amber, turning a strange reddish-orange.

Bog turned toward the tree and placed his bloody hand against the main trunk of the tree and whispered.

“Dachaigh.”

Shimmering gold appeared around his hand where his blood touched the tree trunk, while the same shimmering gold was echoed in the pendant he wore. Marianne watched with wonder as the gold branched out and began to run up in glowing lines to form a door.

Bog stepped back, removing his hand from the tree trunk. The glow subsided, leaving a doorway that looked as if he had been carved in the trunk of the tree long ago.

Bog walked back over to Marianne with a smile and gently took Dawn from her. “Ready?”

Marianne took a deep breath and smiled nervously. “I...ah...I guess so.”

Bog turned and led the way, saying over his shoulder. “Just stay close to me.”

Marianne muttered as she followed him. “No problem.”

Chapter Text

There was a moment of dizziness accompanied by nausea as Marianne’s vision became skewed, as if the world had tilted on its axis and she hadn’t moved with it. She stumbled, began to pitch forward when she ran into a warm, firm body. Marianne pressed herself against the body, the scent of warm vanilla, wild woods, and cool midnight washed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments, her hands pressed against the body. She laid her forehead against the warmth, letting the pleasant scents wash over her. She counted to ten, waiting for the nausea to pass before she opened her eyes again.

She found herself pressed against Bog’s back, her face squished against him. He was looking over his shoulder and down his long pointed nose at her with those unnaturally blue eyes, his leafy brows lifted in a quizzical fashion as he said quietly. “If you are going to vomit, please face the other way.”

Marianne narrowed her eyes in a glare at him, about to tell him she wasn’t going to throw up when suddenly the bile in her stomach roiled. She twisted around quickly and dry heaved.

Bog watched her, his face twisting into a frown. He felt a little bad for her; the trip between worlds was always a little difficult for the uninitiated, especially humans.

When Marianne was done, she turned back with a groan, a hand held against her stomach, then glared at Bog when she saw the big, oddly handsome bug watching her. “What?”

Bog shook his head. “Nothing.” He motioned with his head at a bush that was growing at the base of the largest oak tree Marianne had ever seen. “That plant there is mint--take a leaf and place it on your tongue.”

Marianne glanced at him, suspicion in her gaze.

Bog groaned and shifted his hold on her sister. “Really, if this is some scheme of mine to poison you, do you really think I would have gone to this much trouble? I don’t want you throwing up on my feet! Take the bloody plant or not, but if you get sick again I’m kicking you to the side to avoid having myself sullied.”

Marianne glared at him a second longer before she stomped over to rip a bright green leaf from the bush. She shoved it in her mouth.

Bog sighed. “Good, now follow me. Bloody door dropped us farther away than I expected.” He muttered under his breath, “Damn witch,” before he started walking.

*

The forest was beautiful, Marianne thought, as she found herself gawking, spinning around constantly as she gazed at the trees that reached up to the heavens. The trees were massive, tall and thick, covered in multiple shades and hues of green, red, yellow, and even blue leaves. There were vines wrapped around the trees, dripping between the branches like garland. Some of the vines were covered in flowers like nothing she had ever seen, in shades of reds, purples and blues that were too bright and vivid to be real. When she gazed at the flowers, she could see tiny specks of color moving around them, like dancing Christmas lights blinking in and out among the flowers and branches.

“What are those?” Marianne asked in a quiet voice pointing up among the flowering vines.

Bog followed her finger. “Pixies, piskies, sithein--pay them no mind. They won’t bother us unless we bother them first or pick their flowers.” Marianne’s voice was filled with wonder. “Pixies...wow.”

Bog smiled a little, glancing at her. She really was quite pretty, he thought as he moved through the wood. Flying would have been so much easier, but he couldn’t carry both young women, no matter how light the one in his arms was. It would simply be too awkward, but walking, giving this human a chance to see his kingdom, his world, was nice actually. Seeing his home through her eyes was interesting, he realized with a smirk at himself.

Bog motioned with his head toward the pixies in the trees. “Just don’t draw their attention. Little buggers will try to lead you astray, get ye lost in the woods if they can.”

Marianne frowned, still gazing up at them as they walked. “Why?”

“Cause they’re a bunch of little shits who like to get anyone they can into trouble. They think it’s funny.” Bog replied. “You’ve never heard the term pixy-led?” He quirked a leafy brow at her

Marianne wrinkled her nose. “No, and why would I?”

Bog sighed and shook his head “Don’t understand what they’re teaching ye folk nowadays. Of course, I suppose if ye were learning yer fairy lessons, yer sister wouldn’t have gone and eaten the fruit,” he muttered.

Marianne huffed though she noticed that Bog’s accent, which had been mild was thickening. She wondered if that was because they were in his home, his world. “Well I’ll have you know that in my world, my time, we don’t believe in fairies.”

Bog stopped in his tracks to stare at her, looking affronted. “Ye don’t believe in fairies?”

Marianne grinned at him, as if proud of the declaration. “No, we don’t. Are you going to drop dead or do I have to declare my belief loudly to save you?”

Bog muttered. “O' a' th' glaikit hings...what is wrong with yer century and what on earth are you talking about?”

Marianne straightened her back. “We believe in science,” she said before she added. “And it’s from Peter Pan, when Captain Hook leaves poison for Peter, but Tinkerbell drinks it and you’re suppose to shout that you believe in fairies to save her…” Marianne trailed off at the look of complete annoyance on Bog’s face.

“Well that is a bunch of shite,” he muttered. “I do believe in fairies…” He rolled his eyes. “As if we need humans to believe in us to exist.” He snorted with a flaring of his nostrils.

Marianne made a face at him. “Well, it’s a children story and adults, as I said, believe in science.” She finished by putting her hands on her hips defiantly.

Bog smirked at her. “Oh really, then I suppose none of this is happening right now, is it? Yer sister ain’t sick and this isn’t a fairy forest. You must be dreaming, eh? Or maybe yer in a looney bin with the other jack sprat blot-heads? Well, I’ll just put yer sister down here and head on home since you don’t believe in me. I don’t need to be wasting my time.”

Bog made like he was about to lay Dawn down when Marianne shrieked. “NO!”

Bog stopped mid-motion turning the full weight of his blue eyes on her. “No?”

Marianne wrinkled her nose and glared at him. “Fine, you’re real.”

Bog smirked at her. “Thank you.” Adult human, indeed, he thought.

He carefully adjusted his grip on Dawn and continued to walk. Marianne walked beside him, their conversation forgotten as she saw what looked like a cat staring at her from among the bushes.

The cat wasn’t a cat exactly, she realized. It was as large as a dog with thick wild looking solid black fur except for the single white spot on its breast. It’s eyes were also a solid white. She thought it was beautiful and frightening at the same time. The cat-thing yawned showing off, large fangs.

Marianne made a soft sound of surprise drawing Bog’s attention. He glared at the cat-thing. “Be off with ye.”

The cat stared at Bog before it turned and slowly walked into the bushes, completely disappearing. “What was that?” Marianne asked, her voice a whisper.

Bog shrugged. “A Cait Sith--just ignore it.”

Marianne looked in the direction the cait sith had gone then shuddered slightly as she hurried to catch up with Bog.

Bog muttered. “Gonna have to watch ye like a hawk, go chasing off after every damn thing...get yerself killed.”

“I will not,” Marianne muttered only to receive another one of Bog’s smirks. It made her want to punch him again.

*

They had been walking for over an hour, Marianne guessed. It was hard to tell though. The forest seemed to be in a constant state of twilight, she didn’t have a watch or her phone on her (why had she left without her phone?) and she had no concept of time in here. It was all so strange.

“How much longer?” she finally asked.

Bog frowned. “Not sure...damn witch,” he muttered before turning to Marianne. “But we’re headed in the right direction, don’t worry. I’m not lost.”

Marianne pressed her lips together ready to argue with him about that when a short little creature, who might have stood about hip high on Marianne, appeared in front of them. It was wearing overalls of brown leather, a green shirt with the sleeves rolled up and sported a mess of wild black hair under a wide brimmed cap that did nothing to hide its very long, pointed ears. Its skin was a golden brown and the creature’s hands and feet were far too large for its size. It wore no shoes, which showed off the large clawed toes that matched the claws on its disproportionately large hands.

The creature hooked it's thumbs in the straps of its overalls pulling them out as it smiled at him. “Awright whaur urr ye aff tae?”

Bog sighed. “Get out of the way.”

The creature grinned. “Ah ken ye, yer th', yer the Bog King ain’t ye?”

Bog sighed. “Yes and as yer king I demand that ye get out of my way.”

The creature chuckled, looking Dawn over, then at Marianne. “Stealing yersel' a tae o' human girls I see.”

Bog growled. “I’m not stealing anyone, this human ate goblin fruit. I’m taking her home to help her. Now move out of my way--I am yer King!”

The little man, which was how Marianne was thinking about him because of his deep voice, chuckled. “Weel ye ain't na king o' mines. We korrigans hae oor ain king.”

Bog sighed “Yes yes, I know, King Dáin, but he still answers to me.”

The little man shrugged. “Aye, he micht, bit he ain't 'ere sae yi''ll need tae speak tae Garren.”

Bog groaned. “Who’s Garren? We don’t have time fer this! This young woman needs help now.”

The little man walked closer and grabbed Dawn’s hand that was hanging down. He felt her pulse and examined her palm while Marianne gave Bog a confused look.

The little man nodded and stepped back. “She'll be braw, follow me…”

The little man turned and began to walk into the deeper shadows of the woods.

Marianne turned to Bog her eyes wide in panic. “What’s going on? We need to go!”

Bog growled. “I know, but these are korrigan. If they don’t want us to leave they’ll make it difficult for us. It’s better to just follow him, see what this Garren wants. He’s probably the local clan leader who likes to flex his muscles.”

“But you said you were their king..” Marianne protested, but Bog shrugged.

“Only technically. Though I suppose even that isn’t true at the moment. The korrigan are…” He sighed. “Well it's complicated, but if he says your sister is all right for awhile I would believe him.”

Marianne groaned softly. “I already hate this place.”

Bog smiled a little, but said nothing.

*

The korrigan who found them was named Benren. He led them to a clearing where an encampment was set up around a large bonfire, surrounded by several fallen trees that had been pulled around to use as seats. There were several tents set up in varying sizes around the clearing with one tent clearly larger and more grand than the rest.

The korrigan were sitting around, some cooking (the smell was so delicious that Marianne’s stomach growled loudly in response), some playing instruments Marianne recognized: fiddles, flutes, drums and lutes. Other korrigan played instruments that Marianne had never seen with too many strings or that were formed into wildly twisted shapes, all of them making beautiful, cheerful music to which a few korrigan were dancing.

While Benren led them to the largest tent, the other korrigan, Marianne noted, all shared a similar look with both men and women with golden brown skin, wild hair in shades like the color of brown grass, black like shadows, red as fire, or white like snow, wearing overalls and dresses (some of the men wore dresses as well.) Most of them wore versions of the hat that Benren wore while they all danced and laughed to the music.

Benren stopped in front of the tent, grinning at Bog before he pulled the flap aside and motioned them inside.

Bog sighed and ducked in, nearly bending in half to make his way through the tent opening, his great height making him taller than the tent, while Marianne only had to duck her head.

Marianne gasped when she stepped inside. The interior of the tent was far larger on the inside than the outside. Various animal skins lay on the floor of the tent, while chests filled with gold, coins, goblets, jewels, pearls, looking exactly like a pirate treasure chest from any pirate movie Marianne had ever seen, sat haphazardly around. There were large metal candle stands along the edges of the tent nearly covered in wax from the burning candles and at the end of the tent was a large throne of gold and ivory where a little man like Benren sat, except this one had fiery red hair and his beard was long enough that it fell over his ample belly to roll out across the floor like a carpet. This korrigan was wearing bright green clothing in the same style as every other one Marianne had seen, but on his head he wore a gold and ruby crown.

Bog groaned and hissed. “It’s all illusions, the pumped up little shit.”

Marianne looked around then back at Bog. “Are you sure?”

Bog looked down at her like she was a foolish child. “Of course I am.”

The korrigan on the throne was drinking from a large golden goblet, his other hand resting on his ample belly. “Well, well, if it ain’t the dethroned Bog King.”

Bog sighed. “Garren.”

Garren grinned pushing himself up better in his seat. “Ah see yer mither in yer een laddie 'n' yer faither. Ah knew yer faither weel, aye hud time fur some dram 'n' a dance. A'm mighty sorry aboot th' loss o` yer faither. How's yer mither?”

Bog sighed and Marianne heard genuine sadness in his voice when he spoke. “I miss my father too, Garren, but my mother is well.”

Garren smiled. “That's grand. Now how come urr ye wandering th' woods wi' a tae o' human lassies wi' ye?”

Bog motioned with Dawn in his arms. “I’m taking this one to see my mother. She’s eaten goblin fruit.”

Garren frowned and nodded. “Aye, that's ill, bit sin ye'r 'ere how come dinnae ye 'n' th' lassie wha seems fit as a fiddle jyne us fur a dance? It seems ainlie proper that ye gies a dance.”

Marianne blanched. “WHAT? A DANCE?”

Bog hissed at her. “Quiet!”

Marianne’s eyes widened. She was about to tell Bog that she was going to do with her foot and his crotch if he yelled at her again when Bog snarled at Garren. “I don’t have time for this!”

Garren sat up, his jolly eyes turning flat and dangerous. “Yer faither wid nae hae bin sae disrespectful. Ye ken th' laws, Bog King, the korrigans ask ye tae dance, ye dance or we set a curse oan ye.”

Bog’s expression became dark. Marianne didn’t catch everything Garren had said, his accent being so thick, but she got the gist. The korrigan king wanted them to dance or be...cursed?

Marianne looked up at Bog. “Can he do that?”

Bog growled. “Yes, yes he can.” Bog knew he was beaten and straightened his wide shoulders. “I want the girl…” He motioned to Dawn in his arms. “...to be cared for and the woman…” He motioned with his head to Marianne. “...to be exempted.”

Garren laughed “Ah knew ye wur smart lik' yer faither. We'll tak' care o' th' lassie while ye dance bit that yin…” Here Garren pointed at Marianne. “... mist dance wi' ye.”

Bog’s eyes blazed furiously. He opened his mouth to protest, but Gareen held a pudgy hand up. “Ah will hear na mair arguing, it's aboot time fur jiggin!”

Several korrigan women came out of nowhere and surrounded them. Two reached up to take Dawn from Bog, another two grabbed Marianne and began pulling her along with them. Marianne gasped and pulled against the grasp of the korrigan women, trying to get away. “BOG!! What’s going on???!!!”

Another handful of korrigan women were herding Bog as well. “I’m assuming their plan is to prepare us for dancing.”

Marianne yelped as she was hauled out of the tent. “WHAT?!”

*

The women led Marianne to another tent, this one smaller and filled with various wooden tubs of hot water. Once she was inside the tent, which held several more little korrigan women, Marianne was subjected to being treated like a large Barbie doll. The women were kind to her, but they ignored Marianne’s protests. Marianne was stripped and scrubbed with some sort of soap that smelled of roses and almonds until her skin was pink. Her hair was lathered and cleaned with the same soap no matter how she protested (these women were tiny, but Marianne found out that they were quite strong. She was lucky they let her take a pee!) She was then forced into a dress that was a long, medieval-style dress that reminded Marianne of something she would see in a fairytale book or at a Renaissance fair worn by a princess or fairy. The dress felt tight, though not uncomfortable. Its corset had dark bluish-purple ribbons criss crossing in the front and long three-quarter sleeves that dropped into long sleeves. The dress was made of some shimmering material that made Marianne think of the twilight sky; each time she moved the fabric changed colors. The little women put knee high leather boots with laces on her feet and finished with a crown of blue and purple flowers with long ribbons of purple and blue streaming down behind her in Marianne’s hair. Each item fit as if it had been tailored for her. While she was angry about them taking her clothing and forcing her into the dress (all the while babbling at her in accents so thick she couldn’t pick up a word), the dress was beautiful and she loved the boots.

After they were done, the women all stood around her in a circle and stared before clapping their large hands and cheering. Marianne looked down at herself. She did look nice, she thought with reluctance, if impractically dressed for what she and Bog needed to do.

“I really appreciate this, but…” she began, but the little women shoved her out of the tent.

Marianne stumbled outside at the same time that Bog was pushed outside of another tent. He looked much the same, but his armored body shone. Clearly he had been scrubbed clean as well, even his wings were shiny and...beautiful, irridescent in the bonfire’s light.

The women who had cleaned him had also placed a crown of dark blue and black flowers on his head. Marianne stared at the tall exiled monarch. He looked handsome.

Bog glanced over at Marianne and his eyes widened at the sight of her. She looked like a dream, a fairytale princess brought to life. His mouth dropped open.

Marianne blushed when she saw the look on his face. She did a little swirl, holding out the sides of her skirt to show him the dress, as well as hide her face. “Ah, you like it? Not really my style, but they weren’t really interested in listening to me…” Marianne said softly looking up at Bog.

Bog swallowed, continuing to stare. “You look...lovely.”

Marianne smiled and she could feel the blush spreading to her ears. “Thank you. You look...” She struggled for a word but Bog filled in. “...hideous I know. There is only so much that…”

“I was going to say you look handsome,” she whispered.

Bog blinked looking stunned at her. Marianne smiled up at him and that string she had felt between them tightened again, but before she could say another word Garren yelled out “A'richt! a' body jyne hauns 'n' let's hae some jiggin!”

The music began to play and Bog and Marianne were shoved from behind into a circle of korrigan who were gathering around the bonfire. They joined hands with one another, Marianne feeling a shiver when Bog’s hand engulfed hers gently. His long clawed hands looked dangerous, but he held her hand gently, tenderly even. (Bog swallowed when she placed her hand in his grip. Her hand was tiny in his, tiny and delicate, but he could feel the power in her, the strength of her, which only made his stomach flip and his heart race in a way he had never felt before. If she was anything other than human he would have thought she was using a spell.) Marianne’s other hand was grabbed by a young male korrigan with an infectious smile while Bog’s other hand was grabbed by a

Korrigan woman whose hair was littered with green fern leaves. She gave Bog a saucy wink before she began to pull him, Marianne, and the others along in a dance.

The music was an energetic jig dominated by the sound of a fiddle. The crowd began to jump and leap around the fire while the music played. Laughter and the clapping of hands filled out the merry sound along with shouts of encouragement from those not dancing (usually the elderly Marianne noticed, or the very young, but she did see her sister. Dawn had been cleaned and dressed as well in a similar gown to Marianne’s, but in a soft lemon yellow. She had been brought out on a couch that inclined so that Dawn was sitting up. Even though Dawn was still unconscious Marianne was happy to see her out here and dressed so prettily. An old korrigan woman sat on Dawn right holding her hand and speaking to her. Marianne would have to thank her after this.)

As she was pulled around in a circle with the others, Marianne was sure she knew the tune, that she had heard it before…

While she was tugged along, dancing with the others around the bonfire, the tune came to her: Monaghan Jig. She had heard it in the local pub not long after they had arrived and had tried to convert the tune to play on guitar. The music continued, the jig picking up pace as it changed into another tune she didn’t know. The dancers moved faster, laughing the whole time. Bog chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. He glanced at Marianne, his inhumanly blue eyes bright and she felt a tug at her heart. His smile was gorgeous, showing off his crooked and fanged teeth, but she didn’t feel any fear, only a strange pull and warmth that flooded her body. She smiled back at him and laughed as his wings buzzed and lifted him off the ground a little, taking her with him a foot into the air before coming back down to earth.

While they danced, Marianne saw several handfuls of pixies swarm down from the trees to dance around the fire too. This close, she could see more of their forms, shapely but thin little women and dashing little winged men all, of them in bright technicolors. She laughed as she was spun around, the drums beating out the tune while the fiddle music made her feel light.

Marianne felt as if she should be exhausted from all the dancing, but she wasn’t. In fact, she noticed, the more they danced the more energized she felt. She laughed, enjoying herself like she had never done in the past.

Garren’s voice rang out. “A'richt, noo it's aboot time fur th' lovers tae dance!”

Bog and Marianne were released, both of them were laughing softly and trying to catch their breath. Bog smiled at her. “Would you like some…”

But he never got to finish before he was being shoved at Marianne and Marianne was shoved at him. She stumbled up against his chest and Bog yelped, his hands going up in the air to prevent himself from touching her. “Sorry!” he gasped, but one of the two women who had pushed them together, an older korrigan with long hair the shade of fresh snow glared at the two of them.

“Noo ye twa stoap bein' fools 'n' dance? Ah ken yer bound lovers 'n' ah dinnae wantae hear ony sass!” The woman wagged a finger at the two of them before she gave them both a narrow eyed glare and stepped off. The rest of the dancers were milling around for the moment, talking and laughing, though most of them watched Marianne and Bog.

Bog looked at Marianne with a sigh after the older korrigan had walked off at a brisk pace. “I suppose we are still expected to dance.”

Marianne muttered. “They could at least bring us something to drink.”

As if on cue, a young korrigan girl with freckles on her golden skin and thick braids in her hair, hurried over and handed them a large (large for a korrigan Marianne supposed) metal mug filled with amber liquid.

The little girl grinned. “Tis a lovers dram, ye'r suppose tae share.”

Bog frowned at the little girl, taking the mug which looked even smaller when dwarfed in his large hand. The little girl ran off with a giggle as Bog sniffed the drink.

Marianne asked softly. “What is it?”

Bog frowned in thought. “Might be metheglin, but it has something in it that I’m not familiar with…”

“Is it safe?” Marianne asked to which Bog chuckled. “Yes.” He handed her the drink. She looked inside. The liquid looked like melted gold and smelled sweet. She took a tentative sip, looking up at Bog as she did. With surprise in her gaze, swallowed, noting the drink tasted like warm honey and roses, was cool and smooth. She grinned handing the drink to Bog who took a sip and smiled in surprise. “Oh that’s good.”

Marianne nodded and together they finished the drink when the music started again with Garren calling out.

“Tak' yer lover by th' haun, pull thaim claise! Let th' reels 'n' strathspeys shift th' lovers in a circle aroond th' fire. Kin th' goddess o' th' wood bless yer unions!”

Bog set the mug aside and held his hands out to Marianne. “Shall we?”

Marianne took his hands in hers and Bog gently pulled her close to wrap one arm around her waist, taking her other hand in his while Marianne reached up to lay a hand on his shoulder.

A young korrigan woman with wild black hair stood on a log close to the fire and began to sing, her voice a rich, a pleasant sounding tone that carried over the crowd.

“Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile

Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile Mo shoraidh slàn leat 's gach àit' an téid thu…

*

Bog spun Marianne slowly around the fire, the fingers of his hand spread across her back. Marianne found herself unable to stop looking into his eyes while they moved together. He smiled and spun her slowly around in small circles that moved them around the fire. He released his hold on her waist, though he continued to hold her hand, gently spinning her out from his body, and the two of them danced in a wide circle, staring at each other.

*

S tric mi sealltainn on chnoc as àirde

Dh'fheuch am faic mi fear a' bhàta

An tig thu 'n-diugh na 'n tig thu màireach

'S mar tig thu idir gur truagh a ta mi

*

Bog moved gracefully, pulling her back into his embrace, his wings flared out a little, catching the fire’s light and sending a dazzling display of color to dance across Marianne’s face. She felt strange, light, and her heart pounded as she gazed at Bog, lost in the blue glow of his eyes. He was beautiful, both ethereal and unreal, yet familiar and handsome in a way no normal man could ever be. Marianne felt that tug in her heart again...

Bog found it hard to breathe as he gazed at Marianne. The fire’s light caressed her face and hair, making her glow. She moved with him as if they had always been dancing together, neither of them hesitating, never a misstep, as if they had known each other for years. Bog realized as he gazed at her, that he had never seen anyone so beautiful. Not even Lalnan could hold a candle to

Marianne--there was simply no comparison. He could feel the shift in him, tugging in his chest, and it frightened him, but he couldn’t stop himself from gazing at her...

*

Tha mo chridhe-sa briste brùite

'S tric na deòir a ruith o m' shùilean

An tig thu nochd na 'm bi mo dhùil riut

Na 'n dùin mi 'n doras le osna thùrsaich?

*

They swung and danced around the fire together, Bog spinning her out from his body again, brought her back catching her arms behind her back, holding out her other hand. They danced together in a circle, then Bog turned her around to face him once more, pulling her close up against his chest.

Marianne was sure her heart was beating in time to his heart beat as Bog lifted her up. She laid her hands against his shoulders and Bog lifted her by her waist above him. She laughed, smiling into his eyes, but at the same time his wings fluttered and he lifted her into the air with him.

Marianne let out a startled laugh as they rose above the fire, above the gathered crowd of korrigans. A few pixies followed them, zipping around them to create a haze of color.

Bog grinned at Marianne and whispered. “Have you ever danced on the air?”

Marianne giggled and shook her head. “No, never.”

Bog smiled and lowered her, but kept his hold on her waist firm, but gentle, holding her close to him. Marianne wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer still, her breasts pressed against his chest. She glanced down only once, her dress fluttering in the evening air, before she looked back to his eyes. He felt her shiver.

“Trust me. I won’t drop you Marianne,” Bog whispered.

Marianne smiled back at him. “I trust you Bog.”

He smiled and his wings fluttered behind him as he spun them around in a circle, the pixies dancing and zipping around them like colored lights while they stared at each other.

*

Nyx frowned moving relestless through the castle.

The girl should have tried to come back by now. Something was wrong and if she didn't return soon Lalnan and Liri would be demanding to know why.

Nyx chewed on his bottom lip only stopping when he realized he had drawn blood. He couldn’t wait. He needed to go and get the girl and bring her back. There was no other choice, he realized with a scowl. His own neck was too precious for him to chance having Lalnan or Liri cutting it for him.

Nyx took a deep breath and headed back to the market. He hadn’t been in the world of iron in many, many years, not since before Lalnan and Liri became the king and queen. The last time he had been there was just before the fighting began, before his cousin lost the throne, not since he had broken off with her…

Nyx suddenly had to stop and rest his hand against a pillar as he stepped outside. He hadn't thought about her in years, or at least he had tried not to think about her. Her name brought back images of her smiling face, her bright brown eyes, the smell of her skin, her hair tangled in his fingers.

Nyx shook himself and keep moving. She was long dead, dead and dust.

*

When Nyx arrived at the market, business was booming as usual despite the darkening of the sky. Captured pixies lit lamps throughout the market along with trapped will-o-wisps. The pixies, unlike the will-o-wisps, cried and pleaded for their freedom, but Nyx, like everyone else in the market, ignored them. He knew they would stay imprisoned until their light and their lives were extinguished only to be replaced by new prisoners to light up the night goblin market.

It was cruel, but that was life--cruel.

Nyx arrived at the tree, pressed his hand against the bark. He wasn’t sure if this would work, it had been so long, but he murmured in an old, old language before using a fingernail to open a thin line across his thumb. When the blood welled up, he pressed it against the tree and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. The door opened, just enough for him to slip through.

*

Nyx arrived in the overgrown gardens of Blair castle. Night had fallen, so he didn’t bother with a human glamour, instead focusing on his elven glamour, making himself more beautiful than ever before as he headed toward the house, a single light in an upstairs window guiding his way.

He worked his way around to the front of the castle, his plan to simply bedazzle the already muddled human woman, then return home with her. It would be quick and easy.

He arrived at the front door, frowning as he looked around. The castle was quite isolated. He smiled. Perfect for him, easy in, easy out.

He reached out and opened the door, slipping inside as quietly as a mouse.

The castle was quiet, which was fine, but what bothered him was that it also felt dead. There was no life here, he could feel it…

Was she gone then, he wondered. Nyx growled and closed his eyes for a moment. He hoped she hadn't gone to a human hospital--he would never get her back then. He decided the best thing to do would be to search the castle. If he found no trace of her, then he would wait, she had to come back because there was nothing in the human world that would cure her. She would be driven to return to the market and he would be here to snatch her up...and out of reach of the king or queen, at least for a little while.

Nyx focused his attention back on the room, thinking to go upstairs and work his way down when he stopped, his eyes going wide in surprise.

Standing at the head of the stairs was a spirit, a ghost. Her form was milky white and he could see through her. She had no visible legs, but he saw the tattered remains of a dress flowing around where her feet would have been, along with her long hair which drifted out behind her as if she were underwater. Small orbs of light danced around her.

Her eyes were black holes, staring down at him, her mouth opened, and she pointed at him.

Nyx spun around heading for the door. Fairies didn’t have ghosts, so seldom did they stop their dancing that ghosts, spirits were not part of their belief system, and fairies, when they did die, didn't usually leave spirits behind, but humans, human always left remains behind, like sticky sap that clung to places and things.

Nyx had never seen one until now and he wanted to be away from it. But when he grasped the knob to the front door, it refused to open. Nyx struggled against the knob, turning around to see that the ghost had floated down the stairs, approaching him.

Nyx gave up on the door and raced for one of the windows, but struggle as he might, the window would not move. He tried another and another, but none of them would move. He was trapped!

Nyx spun around, his eyes wide, only to find the spirit there, within arm’s reach, staring at him with its hollow, black eye sockets.

Chapter Text

The warm, relaxing scent of pine mixed with vanilla and wildflowers filled Marianne’s senses. She rolled over and wrapped her arms around the main focus of the scent. She snuggled closer to the scent and smiled, easing back into sleep chasing after the dream she had been having only moments ago.

She had been having a really delightful dream about dancing in the air and wearing a princess gown with a handsome prince with amazing blue eyes and a kind smile. Except as the dream progressed, she had realized the handsome prince came with claws and wings, two features which hadn’t bothered her in the least; actually, she had found those features appealing. Marianne had always been partial to the beast in his beast form rather than his prince form in all the Beauty and the Beast stories she had read as a child.

She also dreamed of her sister under a magical spell, craving the fruit of goblins. A man showed up who turned into a...a fairy, and he took her through a tree. There were dwarves and pixies...Marianne’s eyes flew open.

She found herself wrapped around Bog, who was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open to show off his fangs, one clawed hand resting against his chest, the other wrapped around her waist.

He held onto her in a gentle grasp, his claws resting against her hip, sleeping deeply. He even lightly snored, which Marianne found somehow cute!

Her first reaction was to push away from him, panic starting to set in. She didn't remember much after the dance except that she had fallen asleep at some point, and there had been a lot of girlish, goofy giggling on her part. The vague remembrance made her wonder what the hell had been in the drink last night, but she did know that nothing had happened between her and Bog. That she would remember, she was sure of it.

A strange feeling of disappointment washed over her that she quickly dismissed with a surge of anger. Why would she be disappointed?! She frowned, though the feeling did not going away, so she opted to ignore it instead.

She did remember him lying down, telling her that her sister would be all right after a quick nap, but he needed some sleep and so did she. Marianne had said she would, but only a short nap.

He had given her a grumpy look, lifted his arm in invitation, which was weird but she remembered him being unusually smiley…

She recalled curling up against him…

She frowned, looking down at herself in the dress she had been wearing last night and thought with a little heat: stupid fairy drinks, stupid fairies. Stupid...whatever Bog was…

She started to move away from him, thinking to get up and check on her sister, but stopped. She stared at Bog. He was so unusual looking with his sharp features, the layered leaves along his head which now that she was close enough, looked soft rather than rough…

She reached out and touched his leafy head with the tips of her fingers. They were soft! She brushed her fingertips along the layers. They felt like a cross between feathers, leaves, and...something...she frowned caressing his head, and thought maybe hair, but not quite. Still, the sensation of touching them was pleasant.

He was a fey, a fairy, one of the fair folk. He was both alien and familiar at the same time, and that might be the strangest thing of all, she thought in wonder.

Her gaze traveled down his form, taking in the details of his layered, armored body, his wings that were underneath him (she could see just a glint of the iridescence of his wings beneath his body), and the curve of his claws where one hand lay against his chest was fascinating. His claws looked dangerous, but he had held her gently while they danced. She tilted her head to study him.

She liked the shape of his long chin, his high cheekbones, the curve of his lips. She remembered dancing with him last night, staring into his blue, so very blue eyes…

She licked her lips and laid her hand gently against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart, strong and firm under her hand, and the heat of his body. The plating had a strange mix of soft and hard. Her touching him was pleasant, but she could also tell that the bark-like armour was tough.

Marianne glanced down where a hint of his wing was visible near her, she brushed her fingertips along the exposed section of wing. The wing was smooth, it felt soft, fragile even.

Bog shivered and made a small sound, a gentle murmur, shifting slightly when she brushed her fingers along his wings as if they were very sensitive. She quickly snatched her fingers back, but Bog didn’t wake; he continued to sleep deeply.

Her gaze settled on his face once more, his relaxed features, the slight part of his lips showing his fanged and crooked teeth. The urge to reach out and touch his lips felt strong enough that she started to reach for him, her fingers hovering over his lips…

What was she thinking? Her sister was in trouble and she was thinking about touching some fairy guy’s lips??! Hell, she’d already been touching him like some sort of a love-struck mooner! Ugh!

Her fingers moved closer and at the last second Marianne shoved him in the chest, muttering angrily. “Get up!”

Bog muttered, his eyes fluttering open slightly. “What?” he said sleepily, clearly confused only to be shoved by Marianne again, her voice short.

“We need to get moving! Come on!”

Bog’s eyes flew open and he sat up, nearly knocking Marianne over, except she scrambled out of the way while he rubbed his eyes.

“Spirits, woman!” He glared at her. “I’m up! Stop shoving me!”

Marianne growled at him. “We’re wasting time.” She shoved against his shoulder making Bog snarl at her while baring his teeth.

“Will you stop woman!? I’m up!!”

Marianne had to school her features in order not to smile, but the expression on his face was amusing along with the growl in his voice. That wasn’t amusing, but rather she found it to be strangely sexy.

She stood up and brushed off her dress before she glared down at him with no real heat. “We need to get moving. I don’t know why you let these people stop us.”

Bog watched her stomp away and growled after her. “They’re KORRIGANS!! I didn’t have a choice!” he muttered after she had disappeared out of the house.

“Humans…” He smiled then as he recalled the dance last night, the way the camplight had glowed in her brown eyes, and the tender, sweet smile on her kissable lips.

Bog shook his head grumbling. “Stupid Korrigan wine…”

That was the only explanation he could come up with for the strange thoughts in his head. He stood up, still staying bent over as he was far taller than any Korrigan, and stepped out of the tent.

*

The next few minutes were a bustle of the Korrigan taking Marianne, who reappeared only moments later dressed in traveling clothes. They had dressed her in simple brown trousers with fine leather boots that laced up to her knees. She wore a long sleeved light brown tunic with a leather armor corset over that (which made her small breasts quite noticeable Bog saw with a blush.) Over the top of that the Korrigan’s had given her a long-tailed jacket with belts around her waist that held a water skin and, Bog noted with a smile, a dagger.

Marianne caught Bog smiling at her. She wrinkled her nose and muttered. “They apparently burned my clothes or something. I don't know. Either way, they wouldn’t give me my clothes back.”

Bog smiled. “That outfit suits you.”

“Whatever,” Marianne muttered, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling a little.

Six Korrigan came out of the tent, carrying Dawn’s still form on a stretcher. Dawn had been redressed for traveling as well wearing black tights with black knee high boots that made Marianne think of pirate boots, a long, dark orange dress-like tunic, and a belt around her waist. She had no weapons attached to her outfit, but the Korrgian’s had included a long, dark blue cape with a fur collar.

Bog bowed to them. “Thank you.”

The Korrigan bowed in return.

Bog had just leaned down to lift Dawn carefully into his arms when a young Korrigan girl with hair the color of daffodils hurried forward with a couple of large packs, one of which she tossed at

Marianne who barely caught it.

The young Korrigan bowed. “My name is Khederra.” She smiled. “I’m going to escort you the rest of the way, Your Majesty.” She bowed again.

Bog bowed to the young dwarf. “Thank you Khederra.”

The young dwarf smiled and blushed. “Well, if you’re all ready…”

Bog nodded. “Yes…” He glanced at Marianne. “...we’re ready.”

*

The rest of the trek to Bog’s castle took the entirety of the day. By the time they arrived, it was well past midnight, Marianne hazarded a guess. They had only stopped once for lunch which had consisted of water, a bread that tasted like cornbread, and some sort of salted meat that Marianne was not inclined to ask about its origin.

She couldn’t see much of the castle when they arrived, as there were only a few torches to provide only dim light, but she got the impression of a large fanged mouth.

Marianne was dragging when they arrived, ready to drop to her knees. She fancied herself in good shape, but the trek here had been far more physically demanding than she expected. While she was anxious for her sister’s well-being, a bath, food, and bed almost dominated all other thoughts. She shook her head, noting that Bog seemed unbothered by the journey, and all while holding her sister in his arms. Must be nice being a magical being, she thought with a sour twist of her lips.

As they moved closer to the entrance, Marianne could see a couple of creatures under the torches that hung in wall sconces behind them. They looked frightening, one was short with tiny eyes and a beaklike mouth while the other made Marianne think of a large frog.

She could pick up a few more details of the castle entrance; it had to be a skull she thought. She glanced at Bog and murmured. “Might want to rethink that entrance--screams badguy.”

Bog looked down at her with an amused smirk.

The one with the beaklike mouth stepped forward. “Your Majesty, we are all so happy you’re back.” His eyes darted to Khederra and he blushed. Somehow that small gesture made Marianne smile and relax.

Bog smiled. “Thank you Xurt. Is my mother…”

No sooner had Bog spoken when a short goblin with wild red hair and horns on her head (horns that Marianne immediately noticed had been broken), claws, and an elegant green dress came racing through the open doorway of the castle. Unlike Bog, his mother didn’t have wings Marianne noticed.

“Oh thank the spirits you're back!” The short goblin woman rushed over to Bog. “Bring her down where I can see her you giant twig!”

Bog rolled his eyes and crouched as the woman rushed forward and reached out to brush back Dawn’s hair from her forehead as she examined Marianne’s sister.

Torn between amusement at the woman calling Bog a twig and concern for Dawn, Marianne hurried closer. “Is she all right?” she asked.

The female goblin looked up, her grave expression turning bright. “Oh is this…”

“My little sister, Dawn.” Marianne provided. “I’m Marianne.”

The woman smiled. “Griselda, I’m Bog’s mother.”

Marianne bowed her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Griselda grinned for a beat, but turned back to Dawn. “Bring her to my work room.” She looked at Khederra. “Xurt, take our guest here to the kitchen.”

Xurt blushed and nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She turned to the other goblin. “I’ll send out Icks, you fine on your own until then Staaf?”

The big goblin nodded. “Yep.”

Griselda turned and moved swiftly. “Come along.”

Bog glanced at Marianne as he stood, giving her a reassuring smile before he hurried after his mother with Marianne in tow.

*

The journey to Griselda’s workroom was both exciting and a little terrifying. The castle’s halls were lit by torches in the wall or by glass and wood lanterns that glowed with a light that seemed to have no source. The walls were made of rough tree bark and what Marianne was certain were bone. The floors were of rough stone and the castle looked of having been either abandoned and only recently occupied or it had been haphazardly built in a hurry. Either way, it was dark with little decoration.

The dim light and rough, almost claustrophobic halls (she saw the openings to a few rooms, but the lack of light did not allow her to see inside them) were a bit disconcerting. For a moment, it caused Marianne to feel a rush of panic that she quickly squashed. They came in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors, some with wings, some without, many with claws and fangs. Marianne did see a few more traditional looking fey, with butterfly wings, or elegant, beautiful features, but the more frightening ones seemed to dominate the castle.

*

Griselda’s workroom reminded Marianne of a traditional witch’s cottage. The room contained a large wooden table in the middle covered with bowls that held things from small shriveled apples, colorful mushrooms and flowers of glowing blue, to other items that Marianne couldn’t identify, but most of them looked unpleasant. She saw dried herbs hanging in bundles from the ceiling giving the room a mix of fragrances, from sage to dried roses, none of them unappealing, she noted with relief. At least something here was pleasant.

Set into one wall was a large fireplace with a pot hung over the fire from which something delicious smelling bubbled (Marianne’s stomach responded to the smell with a loud and embarrassing grumble.) A few wooden chairs were littered about the room, along with books on several shelves that also held bottles of brightly colored liquid. Covering the floor were several rugs that looked to have once been brightly colored and skillfully woven, but time and the tread of feet had worn the color away.

Griselda motioned for her son to lay Dawn on the table after she had quickly made a spot for her, shoving bowls and pitchers out of the way to make room for the slender human girl.

Bog carefully and tenderly laid Dawn down and stepped back to allow his mother full access to the young woman.

Marianne came to stand beside Bog, resisting the urge to run over to Griselda’s side. The woman didn’t look like a doctor, but Marianne could see a professional at work and didn’t want to get in the way.

She bumped Bog’s arm with her shoulder. “Can your mother help her?”

Bog looked down at Marianne, his expression somber. “I don’t know, I hope so. My mother is a skilled healer in both the mundane and magical ailments--if anyone can, it’s her.” He gave Marianne a reassuring smile. She returned his smile, stepping closer to him; his large and unusual presence gave her comfort. Bog looked down at the top of Marianne’s head in surprise, but he didn’t move away.

They were both quiet while Griselda checked Dawn’s pulse, listened, and smelled her breath, pulled back her eyelids, and picked up her hands to examine her fingers while muttering to herself, too low for either of them to hear. She pulled back Dawn’s lips, examining her tongue. After a few minutes of this, Griselda turned.

“All right, I can’t wake her…”

Marianne made a small gasp, her hands coming to her mouth, but Griselda held a hand up.

“What I can do is put her in an enchanted sleep...think of your human story about Sleeping Beauty, an enchanted sleep will preserve her, prevent the poison in her veins from doing any more damage. The spell will last indefinitely and it’ll give you both time to get me something I need to cure her.”

Bog frowned, looking surprised. “What?”

Griselda sighed, running her clawed fingers through her red hair. “I need something from the Dark Wilds, a mushroom to be precise.”

“Why there?” Bog grumbled and Marianne nodded. The Dark Wilds did not sound like someplace she wanted to go, especially if this tall, dark, fey king didn’t want to hazard it.

Griselda sighed again in frustration. “Because this mushroom has the properties I need to brew a counter to the goblin fruit. It shouldn’t be too hard to find, it’s not all that rare, though not as easy to find...and it only grows in the Dark Wilds. I had a few from my last trip there several years ago, but I used the last during the last winter when the children were all sick with that croaking cough…”

Bog nodded. “I remember. If not for you, we would have lost so many.”

Griselda smiled reaching out to stroke her son’s arm. “You included.”

Marianne looked at Bog and the thought of him being ill seemed odd. To her, in the brief time she had known him, she had come to think that Bog was indestructible.

“So what mushroom are we looking for?” Bog asked, reaching back to rub the back of his neck.

Griselda frowned slightly. “The mushroom you’re gonna be looking for is called a moon cap. During the daytime it looks like a tiny blue mushroom…” She held a hand up to show them how small the mushroom was, maybe about an inch Mariann thought. “...but at night, the mushroom glows a light shade of blue, like starlight. That is when you want to harvest it--not before.” Griselda looked at them both. “The moon cap only glows like that under the light of a full moon and lucky for you, tomorrow night is a full moon. Lucky for you…” she looked at Marianne when she spoke. “...Berliss and his wife Faesys are both here and can take you into the Dark Wilds.”

Bog shook his head. “Marianne doesn’t need to go.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. She has to be the one to pick the mushroom for her sister,” Griselda said only to have Bog growl. “You’re making that up.”

“I am not.” His mother put her hands on her hips. “And don’t accuse your own mother of lying. It’s her sister, hers is the hand that needs to pick the mushroom. It'd be better if the girl had a beau, but since she doesn’t, it has to be her sister.” Griselda narrowed her eyes at her son in challenge.

“Mother…” Bog began, but Marianne spoke up. “I’ll go. I want to go, this is for my sister…”

Bog shook his head. “The Dark Wilds are…”

But they were interrupted when the door to Griselda’s work room opened and a young elf with dark caramel colored skin and a head of wild brown hair stepped in. “Griselda, is Bog back? I heard he was back...Oh…” The elf stopped and looked around. “Sorry…” His eyes widened comically. “Is that a human?” He pointed at Marianne, his voice rising in surprise.

Bog growled. “Pointing’s rude Sunny.”

Griselda smiled at the elf. “Sunny, what did you need?”

Sunny glanced at Griselda, then at Bog, then the human, but then his eyes took in the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His brown eyes widened again as he took an involuntary step toward the beautiful maiden lying on the table.

“Who’s that?” His voice was breathless.

Griselda chuckled softly. “My patient. Her name is Dawn.”

Marianne added though the elf didn’t look her way. “My sister.”

Once he was at the table, Sunny reached out to brush the back of his fingers along Dawn’s cheek. “She’s beautiful. I’ve never seen such a beautiful person in my entire life…”

Marianne smiled. She wished Dawn was awake to see this elf mooning over her, it was like the man had fallen in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her. Dawn would be tickled pink, such a fairytale sort of…

Marianne stopped, her eyes widening a fraction. She was in a fairytale wasn’t she? The blood drained from her face as it came rushing in on her with force: goblin fruit, enchanted sleeps, elves, dark forests, and magic mushrooms, yet she was standing here, accepting all of it as normal next to a tall, handsome goblin...fairy...person...as if she did this every day.

For a split second Marianne felt the edges of darkness around her vision. She closed her eyes and shoved that darkness away angrily. She was not a fainting violet or a wilting rose. Okay, so this was all straight out of a fairytale. Well, she was Marianne Summerfield and this fairytale was just gonna have to deal with her.

She opened her eyes a second later when she felt a light brush against her arm. She looked up to see Bog smiling slightly down at her, his blue gaze understanding, as if he had known what she was thinking. She gave him a smile back that seemed to satisfy him before he turned his attention back to Sunny.

When Marianne turned from Bog she saw Griselda smiling at her in a way that made Marianne feel like the older goblin woman knew something that she didn’t, which was most likely true, but Marianne had a strange feeling like pieces were falling into place.

It was weird.

At the same time that Marianne was having a quick mental breakdown and recovery, Sunny suddenly seemed to realize both what he had said and that he was in the room with the fair maiden's sister, his king, and the king’s mother and he had just rushed over to caress the cheek of the beautiful, strange woman like a complete ass...

“Eh...sorry…” He stepped back from Dawn, snatching his hand back like the limb was on fire and held his hands folded behind his back. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch the lovely young woman again.

“I was just here to, ah…” He seemed to forget why he was here for a moment before his eyes widened and he frowned slightly.

“Yes. Hah, um, I was looking for the king because the scouts came in a couple of hours ago. They found traces of…” He glanced at Marianne unsure of whether he should speak in front of her, but Bog inclined his head for Sunny to continue. “...anyway, you were right, they’re starting to push farther into the Dark Forest. They aren't anywhere near finding us yet, but it won't be long before The Twins push into the forest.” He frowned looking up at Bog. “I think this time Lalnan will kill you Bog.” It was clear to Marianne by the way Sunny said Bog’s name, having not called him king again that the relationship between the two men was more than king and servant; they were friends.

Bog nodded, his expression grim. “I must have finally become unamusing for her.”

Sunny added. “Or Lin’s jealousy has gotten the better of him. He always hated the attention Lalnan gave you, even when she was…”

Sunny frowned, looking up at Bog who added. “When she was using me to get the throne. Don’t worry Sunny, that wound has healed, even if it still stings occasionally.” Bog rubbed a hand over his face before he grumbled. “We need to send out more scouting parties. I won’t have us caught with our pants down...” He glanced at Marianne. “...so to speak--human expression, hm? Thank you Sunny.”

Sunny looked hesitant to go. He glanced at Dawn, then back at the others. “So ah, what happened to her?”

Marianne spoke up. “She found her way to the Goblin Market.”

“Oh no, she ate something then?” he asked, looking at Marianne with sympathy.

Marianne nodded. “Yes.”

Sunny looked back at Dawn, then turned to Bog. “I would like to go with you to the Dark Wilds.”

Bog lifted a brow at the same time he opened his mouth to protest, but Griselda held up her hand to stop him. “I think that is a fantastic idea.”

Bog looked ready to protest regardless, but his mother gave him a stern look. Marianne realized he may be king, but even a king was no match for a mother.

“Fine. We’ll leave right…” Bog began, but Griselda shook her head, interrupting him. “You both need rest. Your sister will be fine for tonight.” She looked to Marianne. “You can’t help her if you wear yourself out.”

Marianne wanted to protest, but just as she started to say she wanted to leave now, she yawned, a jaw cracking yawn that seemed to encompass her entire body. That yawn set off a yawn in Bog whose jaw actually did crack, loudly, followed by him twisting his head and cracking his neck.

A weird, hot twinge rushed through Marianne when Bog cracked his neck, the hot blood settling low in her body and forcing her to look away.

“I’ll show Marianne to a room and…” Bog glanced down at her. “Would you like a hot meal before bed?” he asked. Her stomach embarrassed her with a loud growl in response.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Marianne murmured.

Griselda smiled. “That sounds perfect. There should be some corn porridge brewing in the kitchen.” She grinned. “Always need something hot and ready to eat around here. There should be some biscuits and raspberry jam freshly made, and there might be some oranges in the kitchen too. Make sure you both eat well before sleeping,” Griselda said firmly before she clapped her hands, startling all three of them. “All right, Bog, you take care of Marianne. Sunny, help me move Dawn into a room. You both sleep well.” Griselda smiled before reaching out and cupping the side of Marianne’s cheek. “Don’t you worry dear, I’ll have your sister right as rain in no time.”

Marianne smiled, leaning into the goblin’s woman’s touch, a caress that reminded her suddenly of her own mother’s touch, enough so that the gesture brought tears to her eyes.

“Thank you…” Marianne was suddenly at a loss as to what to call her; King Mother, Griselda…

“Just Griselda.” The goblin woman once more sensed what Marianne needed as she said this last bit with a smile. “Now--off with you.”

Bog looked down at Marianne and shrugged. “I guess you should follow me.”

*

Bog led Marianne first to his castle’s kitchen.

The kitchen was a large room and while the walls and floors were rough, made from stone and bark, the set up was basically like her own kitchen back at the manor. There was a large old fashioned stone stove, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, a basin for water (she wanted to ask about plumbing, but didn’t) with copper and tin pots and pans hanging or stacked everywhere. There were also stacks of wooden bowls, plates and utensils made from wood and metal. There were several long tables as well as a large fireplace, much like Griselda’s, though twice the size. Marianne saw a large black pot hovering over the fire from which the delicious scent of corn wafted into the room. Her stomach decided to make it’s needs known once more.

The king didn’t say a word, but Marianne saw the amused smirk on his face.

Bog had flicked his wrist when they entered the kitchen and a soft yellow glow immediately swelled to life.

Marianne looked up to see strange hanging lights giving off a warm, buttery glow.

Bog glanced back when he realized Marianne had stopped moving.

His gaze followed hers up to the ceiling and the lights. “Magical lights. Everyone is so often going in and out of here that I thought putting magical light in was better than someone keeping a torch lit or always having to relight it.”

“Magic…” Marianne chuckled softly with a small shake of her head.

Bog smiled. “So, we have corn porridge, which is hot, we have butter, bee’s milk, and of course the jam…” While Bog spoke, he pulled bowls down. “I think there might be some chilled strawberry juice, but if you like we have some honey wine, or water of course.” Bog picked up the bowls and walked over to the large pot from which the delicious smell emanated.

He began to fill the bowls full with a warm, yellow creamy porridge.

“Can you get the oranges from that cabinet?” Bog asked her using his shoulder to give her directions.

“Oh sure, of course. “Marianne opened the rough cabinet doors and inside she found bowls of fruit, one containing oranges that were a startling bright color in the dim colors of the room. She grabbed two and hurried back to Bog who walked the bowls over to one of several tables.

He set the bowls down, then grabbed some spoons and two rough looking mugs, lifting a brow at her expectantly.

“Oh juice is fine,” she offered.

Bog nodded and fetched a pitcher, filling their mugs with bright red juice. He next retrieved a platter of biscuits and a small crystal jar with a cloth top filled with brightly colored jam along with a small plate that held a large square of butter.

“There.” Bog sat down with a sigh.

Quietly, they dug into their meal, both of them eating with enthusiasm. The food was better than Marianne thought it would be. The tastes were vibrant, like she was tasting the best version of corn porridge there had ever been, drinking the sweetest juice in the world, and biting into the fluffiest biscuits in creation. She stopped at one point and stared at the food.

Bog looked up from his porridge. “Don’t worry, it’s not enchanted or anything, just basic food.”

“But…” She frowned. “...why does it taste so good, like...better than just average food?”

Bog frowned, setting down his spoon. “Well, I suppose that might be because you’re human.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I haven’t had a lot of humans to dinner.”

“But you’re sure…” she asked and Bog nodded. “I don’t believe in enchantments...at least not anymore,” he said softly.

Marianne scooped up a spoonful of porridge. “Thank you again by the way.”

Bog lifted a brow and picked up a biscuit. Marianne watched as he defty and elegantly split the biscuit in half, buttered it and placed some jam on it, his claws never fumbling. Watching him was also erotic she thought, then very swiftly pushed that thought away. Where the hell had that come from, she thought. Stupid thought.

“You don’t have to thank me. Like I’ve said, it’s my duty…” Bog glanced over at her. Her large brown eyes did something to him, made his heart flutter and his stomach twist in knots.

He swallowed then smiled and his smile made Marianne’s heart tighten. “But I would have helped regardless,” he added.

Marianne smiled and reached out to lay her hand on his arm. “You’re a good man.”

“I’m not a man…” He murmured. “...just male.”

Marianne squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man.” She looked up into his eyes.

For a moment time stood still and everything faded away as they stared at each other.

*

Nyx slowly opened his eyes. He hadn’t been aware that he had passed out. He had never passed out, not since he was a boy and his father had murdered that family of flower sprites in their gardens. He shuddered at the memory, but quickly pushed it away.

The room was dark, but Nyx sensed the presence in the room, a familiar presence, despite the chill that accompanied it.

He sat up carefully and looked around, but he didn’t see it, just felt it. “What are you?”

“Ask me who I was…” The voice drifted on the air, almost inaudible. A human might not have picked up the sound of the voice, female Nyx realized. The voice stirred something in him, a familiarity with the cadence.

“All right spirit, who were you?” Nyx looked around, his elven eyes having quickly adjusted to the darkness, though he could see nothing. Damn humans and the fact that they could do nothing cleanly, not even die without leaving something of themselves behind.

The ghost slowly formed an arm’s length away from him. Nyx watched in horrid fascination as the shape of a woman came together in front of him. The first thing that Nyx noticed was the lack of color; she was a clear, pale white, but there was no true color to her.

The spirit’s hair was long, down past her ankle Nyx would guess, and it moved around her head like it was being moved by water, a soft, slow, flowing dance around her head.

While all of her was made of clouds and fog, lacking color and substance, her eyes were blue, a light, spring time blue and they stared into Nyx’s very soul.

“My love,” she whispered and Nyx nearly dropped to his knees as pain lanced through him, not from her, but his own pain, the loss of the woman he loved, yet…

“Maggie?” Nyx’s voice cracked on her name.

Chapter Text

Interesting.

Griselda cursed her terrible timing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you both, just grabbing some tea before bed. Your sister is all secured…” Griselda spoke as she moved to grab a cup from the cabinets while keeping the annoyance at herself for disturbing them off her face. “I have her in one of the guest rooms. I cleaned and changed her into something comfortable and posted a guard at her door.” She glanced at her son as she pulled a ceramic jar down from the cabinet that held the tea bags. Bog nodded his approval.

“Can I see her?” Marianne asked. Griselda nodded while filling her mug with hot water and dropped two crude looking teabags into it before she came to stand by Marianne. “Of course, though you should finish eating first. Bog can stop by your sister’s room on the way to taking you to yours. Her room will be in the same hall as yours.”

“Thank you for all your help,” Marianne said, meaning every word.

The older goblin woman smiled at her and reached out to lay one clawed hand gently against Marianne’s hand where it rested on the table. For a moment, Marianne was struck by how Griselda reminded her of her own mother, caring to strangers and kind, but firm. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears that sprang to her eyes from the swell of emotion that she felt as she rotated her hand and gave the goblin’s woman’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Griselda squeezed back. “Well, you two should get some sleep--but finish eating.”

She smiled as she left, knowing that whatever moment that had been happening between the two of them had been ruined for the night, but as she made her way down to the hall to her room, Griselda was determined to arrange for another couple of moments between them. Who knew what might happen if they happened to find themselves alone--with a little help from Griselda--on more than one occasion?

She hated that Marianne’s sister was in danger, though Griselda felt confident in her skill to save the girl with the proper ingredients. Maybe Marianne’s little sister stumbling into the Goblin Market had been a gift? Her son needed a queen, there was no law against it (not any real laws anyway. Anything that those two upsurpers came up with were just forms of torture and punishment, not laws that good folk would make.) No laws existed that said Bog’s queen couldn’t be human. It would be fitting really since her boy wasn’t a full goblin either…

Griselda smiled softly. The hope for grandchildren nestled in her heart, a precious dream, her son happy, married, and with babies of his own…

She sighed, slipping into her room.

*

Bog picked up their dishes after they finished off their meals in silence. After he dumped them into a sink he motioned her to follow him.

The halls were quiet as Marianne walked alongside Bog, the halls filled with a soft magically produced light. He finally stopped at a door where a tall, thick goblin with a bald head and very tiny ears stood guard. The goblin wore a uniform that reminded Marianne of something from an old historical based movie set in ancient Rome, all silver and leather. He even held a spear in his large, thick-fingered hand.

The goblin smiled and bowed.

“Your Majesty!”

Bog smiled and inclined his head. “Evening Bung, everything all right?”

“Everything’s going great sir. The little princess is sleeping peacefully.” Bung grinned, showing off rows of thick fangs.

Marianne frowned slightly. “Dawn isn’t a princess…”

Bog gave a curt shake of his head and Marianne closed her mouth while giving him a questioning look.

“Thank you Bung,” Bog said with another smile.

“Of course Your Majesty.” Bung bowed again before stepping aside and letting Bog and Marianne enter the room.

Dawn lay on a bed carved from some thick, polished dark wood. The room looked to be decorated simply, but Marianne saw an intricately woven carpet on the floor and the bedding looked clean and comfortable. Dawn lay in the middle of the bed dressed in a soft, linen gown, the blankets brought up to her waist, her hands folded across her stomach. A number of lit candles had been placed throughout the room to provide soft illumination, while the scents of cinnamon, vanilla, and ginger lingered in the air. The comforting smells relaxed Marianne’s shoulders, at least a little bit.

Dawn did look exactly like a princess from a storybook, Marianne thought as she gazed at her sister. Sleeping beauty, trapped in an endless sleep, except this one was causing her sister to drift away and there was no Prince Charming to rescue the young woman.

Which was why Marianne needed to be the one to save her little sister.

Once they were in the room, out of earshot of Bung, Marianne glanced sideways at Bog and hissed. “Why shouldn’t I say we’re not princesses?”

Bog smiled and shrugged. “Because goblins are a stubborn lot and if they’ve already decided that you and your sister are princesses, then princesses you’ll stay. I just wanted to save you the time of arguing with Bung. You would be wasting precious time and your breath.” He gently laid his clawed fingers against her lower back as he just as gently motioned her forward. “I am no longer a king, but my people keep insisting on calling me King…” He shrugged. “After awhile, you give up fighting with them because they are clearly going to win.” He said this with affection that made Marianne’s heart tighten. Bog loved his people.

“Go kiss her goodnight. We both need our sleep; tomorrow is going to be busy,” he murmured softly.

Marianne walked over to Dawn, stopping at her sister’s bedside to stroke her hand over her sister's hair before she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you well,” she murmured to her sister, reaching out to lay her hand over one of Dawn’s folded hands. Her skin was cool to the touch and Marianne could barely see the rise and fall of Dawn’s chest to indicate that she still drew breath. If she didn’t know better, she would swear that Dawn had turned into an alabaster statue.

*

Bog watched Marianne with her sister, how gently she stroked her sister’s hair. The protectiveness and love for her sibling was clearly translated in Marianne’s every gesture. He liked that about her, her clear soft heart that was surrounded by a...a toughness that he admired.

There was a lot about Marianne to admire, he thought, from her feisty temperament, her sweet heart, to her ability to adjust and accept the strangeness of her circumstances.

Even a fey might have broken under the burdensome experiences that this one woman was dealing with, but Marianne was strong...tough...and dare he think it?

Beautiful.

He turned away and stepped out of the room to give Marianne time with her sister.

*

Marianne noticed Bog leave and smiled.

She could see where he was a good king, treating his people (so far that she had seen) more as a stern father than a ruling figure. His relationship with his mother would be interesting to learn more about. She had seen only a hint of it, but it seemed to her that Bog loved his mother dearly while at the same time felt exasperated by her. She could be completely wrong, but there was something about the way he spoke to the older goblin woman.

Marianne smiled and stroked the hair on her sister’s forehead back. “I think you are going to love meeting Bog when you wake up. He’s a bit...grumpy, or at least he tries to be, but he isn’t so bad. He’s really interesting to look at too, he has these incredible blue eyes and his body is....” Marianne smirked, wondering if he was as interesting to touch and explore as he was to look at?

She blinked wide eyes at her strange thought before she dismissed it as being tired. “Anyway, there is this little guy, short but with pointed ears, no wings...oh did I tell you, Bog has wings!! We were dancing at this gathering we got dragged into and he flew us into the air…” Marianne sighed. “It was beautiful…” She laughed and her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “Sorry, anyway, I was telling you about this elf named Sunny. I think he might be in love with you already. He certainly seemed taken aback by my little sister’s awe inspiring beauty and you’re asleep, with your mouth hanging open and saliva dried on your cheek....” She laughed as she imagined her sister blushing and yelling at her when she realized her sister was lying about how she was sleeping...Marianne pressed her lips together as a hot streak of pain lanced through her heart. If her sister woke up.... “I’m teasing, you look like a fairytale princess,” Marianne said softly. “ I think you might like the elf when you see him; he’s attractive.” She waggled her eyebrows at her unresponsive sister.

Marianne sighed and lay her head against her sister’s shoulder. “This will all be over soon Dawn, I promise. Then maybe I can convince Bog to take you flying…maybe I can convince him to take me again too?” She chuckled softly and caressed her sister’s cheek with the back of her fingers.

She stood up, sniffed and rubbed her hands over her face, trying to chase away the fear, the pain and the worry.

Swallowing, Marianne stepped across the room and out the door to where Bog was speaking quietly to Bung.

He glanced over at her, his expression going from neutral to concerned. Marianne looked pale and he could see shadows and moisture under her eyes.

She had been crying he realized, and his heart seized in his chest at the thought of Marianne being in distress.

He hurried over to her and without thinking to stop himself, Bog gently grasped Marianne’s upper arms. His hold was firm yet gentle.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently. The soft accent of his voice soothed her frayed nerves and calmed the rapid beating of her heart.

“I’m...I’m fine. Just…” Marianne answered, but even she could hear the strain in her voice. She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly, letting herself relax, but her eyes stung with unshed tears that she could feel hovering at the edges of her lashes. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“Yes, I’m fine.” This time she answered with more firmness in her voice, and she was proud of herself for that.

Bog gently caressed her upper arms as he spoke. “It will be fine, I swear to you. We will find the mushroom, my mother will cure your sister, and you can go home. I will do everything in my power to close the door. For good,” he added, though saying he would do that made his throat tighten as he realized he wasn’t sure he wanted that. Bog found Marianne fascinating--a little irritating, too, he thought wryly--but in the short time he had spent in her company, Bog discovered that Marianne thrilled him.

He wanted to learn more about her.

Maybe it would be good for her to go home and him to seal the door behind her.

He didn’t need to allow himself to become distracted with the lovely human woman, especially when he knew that his...feelings...or whatever this strangeness he thought he was feeling...would never be returned.

Then his life could return to it’s sad, depressing normalcy in which he sat alone while trying to save his people any way that he could.

“Thank you Bog,” Marianne whispered, her voice choked.

Bog quickly pushed away his thoughts and instead focused on Marianne. He could see the glitter of a tear in the corner of her eyes. He reached up gently and with the tip of his clawed finger, he delicately plucked the tear away. He held his claw up, the tear glistening on the end. The light danced within the tiny drop of liquid.

“I don’t want you to cry,” he whispered gazing at her tears. He heard and felt himself say the words before his brain could catch up and stop him. “I will do anything in this world and yours so that you would never have to cry again.”

They stared at each other in the dimly lit hall, lost in each other's eyes. Neither of them were aware that they had taken a step closer until Sunny’s voice broke through whatever spell they had been weaving. They both jumped back a full pace from each other.

“Bog! Oh yes, the Princess Marianne! I wanted to ask you if I could sing to your sister!” Sunny, all smiles and carrying a lute, came to a stop in front of Bog and Marianne. (Behind them Bung rolled his eyes. Sunny had the worst timing the large goblin thought. There had been something there between the King and the pretty human. He, like everyone in the King’s court, wanted to see their King married and happy almost as much as the King’s mother did. Bung thought a wedding was what they needed to keep fighting, to see true love conquering all. Princess Marianne would be perfect for that. Being human, if she fell in love with their King would make the statement of a marriage even more powerful, bringing more hope to the people. Yes, Bung thought, the King needed a Queen and some happiness.)

Marianne wiped at her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you Sunny.”

Sunny bowed low to her. “It is my pleasure.”

Sunny bowed to Bog and stepped past them. Bung gave the short elf a dirty look and Sunny looked completely confused by this because he didn’t remember doing anything to Bung...lately. The big goblin stepped aside and let Sunny into the room. A few seconds later Bog, Marianne, and Bung heard the soft sounds of a lute being strummed, followed by Sunny singing to Dawn.

Marianne didn’t understand the words, but the melody was beautiful and Sunny’s voice was a perfect companion. Dawn would have loved to hear him.

Bog motioned for them to move on. Marianne smiled gently and fell into step beside him once more.

“Sunny has quite the singing voice,” Marianne commented as Bog strolled down the dim hall, his wings making a dry rattle every so often as he shifted his shoulders, occasionally rolling them as if they were stiff, though Marianne thought it might simply be a nervous tick.

“Here we are.” Bog stopped at a simple looking wood door with what looked like a simple brass door handle, except this one had been carved to look like a yawning, fanged mouth.

Pushing the door open, Bog smiled. He caught Marianne’s eyes on the knob and noted they widened a fraction when she saw the face. “The doorknobs were part of the castle. They were made by…” He frowned and shrugged. “A grandfather far enough back that I can’t recall how many greats that is...Anyway, he had these doorknobs carved to look like his face in battle.” Bog snickered. “He was strange if you ask me, but one of the goblin maids who has worked for my family for generations stole the knobs when we were forced from the castle. I felt it would be rude not to use them after she went to all that trouble.” Bog grinned and stepped aside so Marianne could see her room for the night.

When the door opened the magical lights popped softly into existence, dancing lazily through the air. The bed, like her sister's, was carved of thick, dark wood that showed brightly in the light despite the dimness. The bedding looked thick and expensive, though Marianne supposed they must be made with magic because she doubted there was a fairy mall around here, or maybe they sewed them? Who knew in this world, but she thought it would be interesting to find out.

The bed called to her. It whispered sweet nothings of mindless, dreamless, good, deep sleep that made her want to sink into it and fall asleep instantly.

A small fire burned in a rough stone fireplace giving the room just enough heat to stave off the evening chill.

Bog motioned to a rough wooden wardrobe in the corner. “There are night clothes there for you and a change of clothing for tomorrow. There are candles in case you want a stronger light, want the heat, or simply enjoy candlelight.” He looked around a bit, then shrugged. “I think that’s it...Oh no…” He walked through the door and crossed the room to a door that Marianne hadn’t noticed until the tall goblin king stood before it. He laid his fingers against the door and lightly pushed.

“There’s a bath and other necessities in here, running water...” Bog stated and stepped back for Marianne to see.

The “bathroom” contained a sunken tub that looked to be carved into and polished from the wood of the tree that made up the castle. There was soft looking moss along the floor and halfway up the walls. There was something in a corner that looked similar to a toilet, and to Marianne’s untrained eye it looked as if the toilet was made from very smooth limestone or something similar.

“Is this...I mean, does the water come into the room through magic?” Marianne saw a faucet-like appendage on the tub and what looked like a handle on a chain attached to the thing reminding Marianne of old toilets she had seen in period movies.

Bog chuckled and lightly smacked the walls. “I’ll have you know goblin and elf engineers have given Castle Bog indoor plumbing.”

Marianne giggled. “So fairies and goblins have...toilets?”

“We’re mythical creatures my dear, not savages,” Bog said with a grin while elevating his long, pointed nose up in the air.

Giggling, Marianne’s eyes twinkled at him. “I need to stick around when all this is over so I can learn about all these interesting little facts about fairies.” She walked over and pulled the toilet chain and was delighted to hear a familiar flushing sound.

Bog chuckled and again his mouth ran before his mind could catch up as he said, “I would enjoy that.”

Marianne blushed, turning to look up at him, their eyes meeting.

Bog’s mouth opened just a bit as he gazed at Marianne. She really was a beautiful woman, he thought, not for the first time. He licked his lips and reached up to rub the back of his neck trying to break the spell.

Marianne felt her breath being sucked away as she stared into his gorgeous blue eyes. His unusual features, though strange, appealed to her. He was downright attractive, which he shouldn’t have been. She should have found him grotesque, shouldn’t she? But Marianne found that she didn't and couldn’t. When Bog licked his lips and reached up to rub the back of his neck Marianne felt a spike of desire.

After a few moments Bog took a step back. “Ah...if you need anything, feel free to find any of the guards, or my room is down the hall to the right, then take a left and you couldn’t miss it if you wanted to because of the huge doors…” Why was he saying all of this?? Bog mentally screamed at himself to shut up.

He backed away a few more steps, his eyes wide with fear Marianne thought before he stopped and bowed to her at the door. “Good night, Princess Marianne.”

He glanced up with a smirk on his lips that made Marianne giggle in response. “Good night, King Bog.”

Bog’s smile brightened and a hint of his fangs showed in just such a way that Marianne felt that heat in her body bump up a notch before he turned and left, lightly closing her door behind him.

Marianne groaned softly as she rolled her head on her shoulders.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked herself as she headed over to the bedside table and opened the rough drawer to find a wooden box of matches inside. She pulled the box open and struck one of the matches, almost dropping it when the matches flame burned a bright blue, almost as vivid as the color of Bog’s eyes.

Studying the flame for a few seconds Marianne muttered to herself. “Getting hot and bothered over a bug man--either you have been celibate for too long or…” She frowned slightly not giving voice to what she was thinking, which was that Bog was a very sexy bug goblin, fairy man... A few of the magical lights bobbed in the air over her head as she walked over to the closet, the burning candle started to fill the air with the warm scents of vanilla and spice, reminding Marianne of her grandmother’s kitchen.

With the candle in hand, Marianne walked over to pull open the wardrobe and found that it was filled with clothing. She pulled some pieces out, from a full-length fantasy dress in shades of purple that would look perfect in a fairy court scene in a movie, to a simple pair of pants and a tunic, and she found that they looked to all be in her size. Each one she held against herself looked as if it would fit her perfectly. There were even some boots at the bottom of the wardrobe. She was going to have to ask in the morning.

She looked around in the closet until she found a nightgown. She would have preferred pajamas, but the material felt almost exactly like cotton, soft and breathable. The gown made her want to put it on and crawl into bed. That could have been magic, but Marianne was inclined to believe that it was just the fact that she was so damn tired.

She quickly stripped naked and donned the nightgown with a sigh of relief. It felt good to be free of her clothing, to be wearing nothing but the soft gown.

She made her way over to the bed and wondered if she should do anything about the fire in the hearth, but she was suddenly hit by a wave of fatigue and couldn’t think about the fireplace; just the bed that called to her like a siren.

Pulling back the covers, which also felt soft and cool, Marianne more flopped than crawled into the bed with just enough forethought to blow out her candle’s flame before she hit the pillows and was instantly asleep.

*

Bog made his way down the hall to his bedroom, his mind a weird tangled mix of thoughts. He liked Marianne, he couldn’t deny that he liked her spunk, but it was more than simply liking her, there was something more there that he wished he could bottle up and put on a shelf to forget about.

Why did he do this to himself?

He clearly was a masochist.

Bog pushed open the door to his room and slipped inside.

Bog’s room was dark. A few magical lights formed the moment he entered, but not many. He didn’t need a lot of light to see by and he knew this room like the back of his hand now. He moved over to the cold hearth, thinking about lighting a fire, but changed his mind. He was just too tired.

Pulling his bed covers back, Bog tried not to think of the pretty human woman as he slid between the sheets with a groan, adjusting his wings until he was comfortable. He stretched out his long length in the bed made to support his long legs and tall torso, except once he laid down, his mind became more active.

Bog laid still, staring up at the dark ceiling. He did not have time to waste thinking about Marianne. He had a small, desperate kingdom to run. He had to think about whether he still wanted to take back his throne or flee with his people deeper into the forest now that Lalnan seemed to be searching for him again. He was headed into the Dark Wilds, a dangerous place at the best of times, but he was taking Marianne who didn’t really understand the dangers of the Wilds. He sniffed with a flare of his nostrils. She didn’t understand the danger of being here at all.

Bog sighed, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath through his mouth, then let it out slowly. But behind his lids he could only see Marianne’s large brown eyes and her rosebud mouth.

*

When Marianne woke up, she didn’t move or open her eyes. She was confused about where she was, but the room smelled comfortable and calm, the bed felt warm and soft, and she just couldn’t seem to recall why she needed to get up.

She snuggled back down into the bed just when she heard a soft knock at the door followed by Bog’s voice. “Marianne, are you awake? Breakfast is ready and our guides are here.” Marianne shot up as the events of the last couple of days rushed back: her sister in an enchanted sleep, the goblin king, a tall creature with gorgeous wings and eyes bluer than a clear, spring sky.

“Ah, yeah, I’ll be…” she started to say ‘right there’ and then remembered she had no idea where ‘there’ was…

As if sensing her confusion Bog’s voice came back from the other side of the door, gentle as he said, “I’ll wait right here and escort you to breakfast.”

“Thank you!” Marianne called.

*

She didn’t bathe, though the tub was tempting. If she had just gotten up earlier...but she did do a quick sponge bath with a mossy sponge that left her skin smelling of peppermint and vanilla.

She brushed her fingers through her hair and searched the magic wardrobe for someone to wear for traveling.

She ended up pulling out a pair of sturdy looking woolen pants, some thigh-high leather boots that laced up the side with buckles (very Dungeons & Dragons looking boots, she thought. She loved them and would try to take these home with her if she could get away with it.) She chose a light, linen tunic that had been dyed her favorite shade of purple, and a hefty brown leather jerkin to wear over the tunic that was sleeveless, hung to her mid-thigh and was decorated with Celtic knotwork. The tunic, or armor (Marianne thought it might actually be leather armor) laced up snuggly in the front, hugging to her figure. She added the leather vambraces she found that matched the jerkin. The leather on the arm pieces had been decorated with the same intricate Celtic knot work as the chest piece.

Marianne flexed her arms and stretched both arms and legs once she was dressed. The clothing felt good as only clothing tailored to a person could feel, and the materials were neither scratchy nor uncomfortable.

Marianne wondered if they would give her that wardrobe, because it rocked! She was now dressed for a fantasy adventure!

For a moment she wanted to run and tell Dawn because Dawn would be so excited, but her little sister was dying because of poisoned goblin fruit and Marianne was here to save her, not to have an adventure and fall in love with a tall, elegant fairy bug man…

Wait, Marianne frowned. Where had that last part come from?

“Are you almost ready or did you get lost?” Bog’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I know this must be a lot for you, but I didn’t think a small room would be…”

Marianne yanked the door open causing Bog, who had been leaning against it with his shoulder and holding a tall staff in one hand that held a large amber stone in the center of a circle at its top, to stumble inside. The goblin on duty (one Marianne didn’t recognize, not that she knew all the goblins in the castle after one night) grinned in amusement when Bog stumbled inside and almost into Marianne who sidestepped just in time to avoid a collision.

Bog stumbled sideways a step then righted himself with the help of his staff and a grin.

“Oh, I see you found the door. Huzzah!” He laughed softly.

Marianne wrinkled her nose at him with an equally soft giggle. “I know I’m only a stupid human…”

Bog stepped over to her smiling. “Never said you were stupid...just thought you might have gotten lost in the wardrobe or maybe drowned in the tub.”

Marianne laughed as they set off down the hall together, Bog’s staff making a light click against the floor. “That wardrobe is interesting. Is it magic?”

Bog nodded. “Yes, but it’s a very simple magic. The clothing inside will conform to the size of the room’s occupant. If you were to spend more time in this room, eventually the magic would pick up on your likes and dislikes and clothing would appear that suits your tastes.”

Marianne looked Bog up and down while he spoke. He wore a loincloth that hugged his sharp hips, held with a belt decorated with rough amber stones, smaller in size than the stone in his staff. The cloth was dark grey, slightly darker than Bog himself and it hung low over his slender stomach of layered, natural armor. On his hips he carried a sword and around his forearms were leather bands that held what looked to be some sort of throwing knives, though the knives shared a similar appearance to Bog’s body. That was the only clothing he wore.

She was going to say something funny about the fact that he didn’t wear a lot of clothing, except when he had been human looking. Her eyes wandered over him, taking in his broad shoulders and chest, his slender but muscled and armored arms, and slowly down his stomach.

When her eyes lingered on the layered armor of his stomach, her fingertips suddenly itching to touch him, to run her hands down his chest and stomach, Marianne’s cheeks suddenly burned red and her eyes shot forward again.

Bog didn’t notice as they began to walk, but he had noticed the boots that hugged her shapely legs and the way the leather tunic hugged her waist. She looked beautiful in a way no woman had ever looked beautiful to him before.

He licked his lips nervously.

To distract himself from her appearance, Bog spoke. “The wardrobe was a gift from some visiting Daoine Sìth during my father’s reign and before you ask, yes the same maid that got the doorknobs got the wardrobe out...and no, I have no idea how.” He glanced sideways at her and grinned showing a hit of crooked fanged teeth that made Marianne’s blood burn with desire for a moment.

Marianne smiled back at him. “Well, I love it! I want one.” She laughed. “Minor magic indeed,” she added with a smile.

Bog smiled at her. The urge to simply give her the wardrobe because she wanted it was strong enough that he had to press his lips together firmly to keep himself from saying it. He decided to change topics as they walked past the door to Dawn’s room. Marianne didn’t stop as he walked by, but he saw her gaze linger, even glancing over her shoulder as they passed by the door.

“After breakfast, we will stop by and see your sister. Then I will take you to the armory to fit you with a sword and a pack before we head off.” Bog smiled at her again.

Marianne beamed. “A sword? Will it be enchanted?”

Bog shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll have to see what speaks to you.”

They arrived at a set of large, yet simple wooden doors. The mastery of the woodworker could be seen in the door's simple, yet elegant design that worked to enhance another of the god awful door knobs that were set in the doors.

There were two goblins on guard duty here. One was short with a beak like a parrot for a mouth, his (or her) skin a mossy green. The other was taller, but looked very much like a large praying mantis without wings, and taller than Marianne, wearing armor.

Marianne had to catch herself from making a squeak when she saw him (or her.) Both guards held spears and both wore the same sort of armor that Bung had worn last night, as well as the guard this morning.

When the two guards saw Bog approach then both bowed low. “King Bog.”

Bog gave a nod of his head. “Good morning Ort, Eahx. How are you both this morning?”

“Fine sire.” Ort--the one with the beak--replied while Eahx smiled (at least Marianne thought it was a smile) as a distinctly female voice replied. “Well my King, my little ones are doing well. They have asked when you will visit again.”

Bog laughed. “Soon Eahx, soon. How is Jufz?”

Eahx smiled. “She is doing well Your Majesty. My mate has been working hard and believes that she and her staff have made enough clay containers to hold enough rice and other grains to get us through the winter.”

Bog nodded. “Good, good. Jufz has always been one of our kingdom's best potters.”

Eahx smiled. “She will be pleased that you said so sire.”

Eahx and Ort reached for the doorknobs to push the doors open for them. Marianne and Bog walked in side by side. Beyond the doors, Marianne saw a large chamber with several hanging, glowing orbs of golden light shining down from above. Marianne could see Bog’s throne across the room, slightly raised. The throne looked to be made from the skull or the jaw of some large predator. For some reason, the throne reminded her a little of the Iron Throne in ‘Game of Thrones.’ She grinned at herself in amusement at that thought, which quickly led Marianne to wondering if dragons were real in this world or not. She wasn’t sure which one she was hoping for.

There were several long wooden tables in here, but only one was occupied, by four people. Marianne recognized Griselda and Sunny, but the other two sat with their backs to them, one of them short and slender, the other tall and broad.

The next aspect of the room that grabbed Marianne’s attention was the scent of delicious food--eggs, bacon, fresh bread, brown sugar…

Her stomach made a responding growl.

Bog smiled at her and his blue eyes twinkled, but he didn’t make fun of her loud stomach. Instead he bowed slightly while he motioned elegantly with his arm for her to proceed ahead of him.

The table was loaded, not just with the food Marianne smelled, but there were fruits, small forest apples, strawberries, and a bowl filled with blueberries so blue and shiny they almost looked to be made from wax.

Griselda, who was pouring what looked to be milk into a mug, saw Marianne and Bog first.

“There you both are!” she called out.

Marianne was proud of herself when she didn’t react to the two new guests.

The tall, broad goblin woman was green all over and wore a light cotton dress with tiny roses printed on the fabric in soft blue, completely at odds with her large, muscled appearance. She was bald with almost nonexistent ears, a large mouth filled with sharp teeth and tiny, solid black eyes. Her male companion was dark, his skin jet black and shiny like oil with long, pointed ears, but his eyes were large and colored a soft shade of green. His smile, though fanged, was sweet and lopsided despite his frightening appearance. He was dressed similar to his partner in that his clothing was not what Marianne would have expected looking at him. Benliss wore a loose brown tunic, darker wool breeches, and no shoes.

Griselda grinned at Marianne. “Meet your guides, Berlisse…” She gestured to the small dark one. “...and his wife, Faesys. Now, you two sit down and let's eat and talk about what to expect in the Dark Wilds.” Griselda grabbed both of them plates and started to pile them with food while Bog pulled out Marianne’s chair for her.

She slipped into the chair while gazing up at him. For a moment they were both frozen again, Bog’s hand on the back of her chair, his body close enough she could run her fingers over his stomach and chest

Staring down at her, Bog’s heart skipped a beat, and his breathing became shallow while he lost himself in her eyes.

Griselda grinned then glanced at Faesys, the two women sharing a silent glance. Griselda had told Faesys about seeing them last night in the kitchen and Faesys hadn’t believed her.

Now there was no denying it. Her son was falling in love and if Griselda knew how to read humans correctly, Marainne was falling for him.

*

Lalnan sat on her throne waiting impatiently for their guest to be brought in.

She hated being made to wait as much as she hated being up this early, but it couldn’t be helped today.

Liri was sitting on his throne, his newest pet, a female faun with golden fur on her legs that matched the long golden hair on her pretty little head, sat on his lap being fondled by her brother. Lalnan narrowed her eyes as her brother kissed the faun’s throat, one hand cupping the young female’s naked breast. The faun looked terrified, but remained mute. He had brought his pet into the throne room without a stick of clothing on her, and he was wearing only a night shirt that did little to hide her brother’s erection as he played with his pet.

Luckily this was a private meeting and no one would else see her brother, not that it mattered. Her brother would sometimes walk the halls completely naked. He had no shame.

Though he was very beautiful she thought with a smile just as the doors opened.

“Finally.” Lalnan ran her hands over her dress the color of candlelight and sat up straight. Liri glanced over, but didn’t stop what he was doing. Someone else would think he wasn’t paying attention, but she knew her brother. He was ever alert.

Four men came down the aisle, and between them walked a blue fairy woman with her arms held in iron chains behind her back…

Lalnan stood, a sinister smile on her pretty face as Sugar Plum was forced down to her knees in front of Lalnan.

Lalnan grinned down at the fey woman. “Ah, just who I wanted to see…”

Defiantly Plum glared back. “What do you want with me?”

The smile that spread across Lalnan’s face was terrifying.

“I want you to make me a love potion.”

Chapter Text

“Now both of you sit down and eat.” Griselda set two plates down side by side across from Berliss and Faesys. “I want you both to eat everything on those plates. I already have your packs ready with food, blankets, miscellaneous gear...” Griselda motioned absently as she took her seat again.

Marianne sat down, with Bog sitting beside her, leaning his staff at the end of the table. She was keenly aware of him sitting so close, the scent of him, warm and spicy, just like the night they danced together.

Bog shifted and his hip accidentally bumped her. “Sorry…” he whispered under his breath.

Marianne smiled at him. “It’s fine.”

He gave her a shy smile in response that Marianne returned.

She turned her attention to her plate, her eyes widening as she took in just how much food Griselda had loaded onto her plate. There were eggs, sunny side up, some sort of heavy bread, toasted, and with butter melted on it. Beans, tomatoes that looked to have been fried, another type of porridge--probably oats, Marianne thought--and some fish (that thankfully didn’t look like something weird or crazy, just normal looking fish. Possible weird fish worried her.) And some fresh berries that did look weird; they had a vague, blue glow to them. Marianne next looked into the two cups. One held milk (from what she wasn’t sure) and the other contained coffee!! She grabbed the cup up and held it to her nose, taking a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance.

Bog snickered causing Marianne to look sideways at him. “You humans really think you invented everything don’t you?” he commented glancing at her hands clutching the cup of coffee.

“Are you telling me that fairies invented coffee?” Marianne looked shocked.

Bog smiled and cut into his egg, which he expertly placed on his toast, letting the yoke bleed into the toast before he picked it up and took a large bite without saying a word, though he gave her a smug look while he chewed.

Marianne smirked back at him as she took a sip of the hot, black coffee only to make a small groan of pleasure at how good it tasted.

Their small group ate in silence for a few minutes before Sunny spoke up, leaning around Griselda to smile at Marianne. “I went and saw your sister again this morning. I sang to her while Griselda brushed her hair.”

Marianne smiled thankfully at him and Griselda. “Thank you…” She looked at Griselda who sat on her left. “Thank you both.”

Griselda took a large bite of fried tomato and motioned dismissively with her fork. “No need to thank me.”

Berliss (who Marianne had learned from Bog was not a goblin, but rather a boogeyman) smiled when Marianne glanced over at him. It was strange, she thought, but the “man” had a charming smile despite how frightening he looked. “I was sorry to hear about your sister. That goblin market isn’t what it used to be…” He frowned, taking a sip of his coffee and added. “...not like when Bog was king.”

Berliss' wife nodded. “When Bog was king, the market was safe for everyone, from the smallest pixie to...well humans.” She nodded toward Marianne.

Bog muttered. “Don’t make it sound like paradise Faesys, because it wasn’t.”

Faesys shrugged. “Nothing is perfect, but things were much, much better under your stewardship. There was fairness, there was safety. One could raise a family in peace.”

Bog said nothing as he sipped his coffee, but he did bow his head in acknowledgement and gratitude.

“How long do you think it will take us to find this mushroom?” Bog asked the pair across from him.

Berliss glanced at his wife while he spoke. “Well, once we get to the Dismal swamp in the middle of the forest, finding the mushroom won’t be hard. Once the moon is out they’ll all be glowing, but…”

Bog frowned slightly, knew what the ‘but’ was about. He had been in the Dark Wilds and he knew what the woods were like. There were creatures that dwelled in the woods that didn’t belong to either court, who didn’t follow any rules, who killed for pleasure, anything or anyone that crossed their path.

He knew Lalnan and Liri had tried to court the things that lived in the Dark Wilds to join their court, but even those two evil bastards couldn’t convince the things that lived in the Dark Wilds to serve them. One small comfort, Bog thought with a soft growl he wasn’t aware he had made.

Marianne glanced over at Bog when he growled.

Faesys murmured. “It’s the breeding season for the forest bulettes…”

“Fuck.” Bog groaned, setting his fork down to drag his hand over his face. “Wonderful.”

Marianne looked confused. “What’s a bulette?”

Bog dragged his teeth over his bottom lip before he answered. “Bulettes are some of the worst creatures out there. Mean little things. They aren’t particularly big…” He held his hands up to show her. Marianne would guess about ten inches from the way Bog was holding his hands. “They have powerful jaws and razor sharp teeth.” He demonstrated with his hands while she spoke, which she found adorable. “They burrow underground and their tunnels also act like traps…” He used one hand like it was a burrowing creature, using his other hand to act like the ground. “...you find a weak spot and fall through…” Bog made two clawed fingers act like walking legs while he spoke. “... those things will be on you in a heartbeat.” Bog closed the claws of one hand over the two fingers he had been using to demonstrate legs and shook his head. “They can shred a person of all soft tissue within seconds if they get a hold of you. And that’s just with a handful of the little buggers.”

Marianne paled. “And, it’s their breeding season?”

Bog nodded. “Seems so…”

“Lovely,” Marianne muttered only to have Faesys add. “Those aren’t the only things out there we have to be careful of. The daytime won’t be as dangerous, but once night falls the danger becomes worse. There are giant wolf spiders, fey wolves, endregas, dryads…” She grinned. “It’s a long list.”

“Yeah, about everything in the alphabet, both human and fairy,” her husband added with a smirk.

Marianne stared at the goblins across from her. “If you’re trying to scare me, it won’t work. I need to save my sister and there is nothing in your world that is going to stop me.”

Faesys grinned glancing at her husband and then Bog. “I like her. We’ll make sure you live.”

“I would appreciate that,” Marianne added with a smile.

“As would I,” Bog stated with a raised brow at Faesys and her husband.

Berliss tilted his head as he gazed at Marianne. “Not to be rude, but can you fight at all? This is going to be much harder if we have to worry about protecting you at every turn.”

Before Marianne could answer Bog replied with a grin. “Oh, she can definitely fight. After breakfast I’ll be taking her to the armory to equip her with a sword.”

Berliss and Faesys both nodded. “Good.”

*

After breakfast the group, headed by Bog, went to the armory located in the basement of the castle. As their group descended several flights of carved wooden stairs into the basement, the halls grew darker until torches replaced the bobbing magical lights. The smell of damp, wet, old wood mixed with the smell of dirt that reminded Marianne of working in the garden.

Marianne walked just behind Bog when Griselda came up beside her. The two women walked in silence for a few seconds before Griselda asked in a whispered voice, “So, I’m assuming you have no husband, boyfriends, girlfriends…”

Marianne shook her head and answered softly. “Nah. My last relationship ended really badly, so I’ve been single for awhile now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that…” Griselda replied though she didn’t feel sorry in the least! That meant Marianne was free--with no complications beyond her current predicament to prevent her son and

Marianne from pursuing a relationship. Griselda resisted the urge to run her hands together in glee. Now she just had to get them together...

“So you’re not courting?” Griselda asked.

Marianne shook her head and said, “Nope.

Griselda’s smile widened a fraction further.

Bog, walking in front of his mother and Marianne, was doing his best not to listen in, but when he heard Marianne say she was free, with no attachments, he felt his heart do a little flip of joy that he quickly smashed like an annoying insect. He couldn’t allow himself to think that way. He needed to focus on healing her sister and sending both young women home.

Besides, he had promised himself that never again would he fall in love because love was a weakness, like a disease that could corrupt and destroy you, throwing one’s life into chaos. His heart had already been broken, and he didn’t want to do that to himself again.

Besides, after they cured her sister, Marianne would be leaving.

So no, he told himself, he didn’t care that Marianne wasn’t attached to anyone because he wasn’t interested, couldn’t be interested.

They arrived at a pair of heavy metal doors, simple in design, guarded by a goblin and a fairy. The fairy was slender, Marianne noted, and beautiful with long blonde hair so light that the strands looked almost like white gold. Her face was sharp and elven with large eyes the color of starlight. The fairy had large, butterfly wings of white and gold in curving striped patterns. Though her uniform looked like the ones worn by all the goblins, the fairy guard looked as if she had stepped right out of a storybook. The goblin next to her was one of the biggest Marianne had seen yet; his head brushed the ceiling and he looked as if he were made solely of muscles.

The two guards were leaning against the wall facing each other, their spears held causally while they chatted when the female saw them coming. She smacked her companion in the chest with the back of her hand and spun around gracefully, suddenly at full attention.The goblin, on the other hand, fumbled his spear. Marianne felt a giggle well up as a few comical moments went by as he tried to keep his hold on the weapon, doing so barely, and caught the weapon with the tips of his claws before he spun around to face Bog and company. At full attention.

Once Bog arrived at the doors the two guards bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Bog sighed. “I’m not…” he began, but his words were cut off by his mother, who had walked up to stop beside him and elbowed her son in the side. Bog resisted yelping (barely) and rubbed his side, giving his mother as she glared up at him.

Bog took a breath through his nose and bowed his head gracefully. “Thank you Edea.” He glanced at the goblin. “Keeg. We need into the armory,” he stated.

The fairy, Edea, nodded with a glance once more at her companion Keeg. Simultaneously they both reached for the handles of the heavy looking metal doors and pushed them open.

Bog led their small group through the doors and into the armory. Marianne found the room to be impressive because it looked like it was right out of a fantasy game. The room wasn’t overly large, but every available space was taken up with weapons and armor of various sizes, styles, and conditions.

Bog waved a hand at the room. “This isn’t what it was, but we make do.” He turned to focus his attention on Marianne. “You can take whatever you need. Touch and handle any of the weapons that draw your attention. Let them speak to you.”

Marianne tilted her head, giving him a quizzical look. “Speak to me?”

Bog chuckled. “Not in actuality, of course.”

“Oh.” Marianne found herself a little disappointed that there wasn’t going to be a singing sword or something. Though she supposed a talking or singing sword would be fun for about half an hour before it became annoying.

“Find the weapon that feels as if it belongs to you,” Bog explained with an accompanying smile and another wave of his hand.

Marianne nodded, shared a little smile with Bog, and began to walk around the room gazing in wonder at all the weapons. She had always wanted to be the warrior princess instead of the fairy princess when she was a kid. Dawn was all about the dresses and wings while Marianne wanted the armor and swords. She wanted to slay the dragon! Rescue the prince, fall in love, and then her and her prince would fight side by side. Marianne smirked at the remembrance. Now here she was in a fantasy world (a real world, she corrected herself, just different from hers) picking out a sword so she could go and save her sister while the handsome goblin king…

Marianne stopped that train of thought. No. No handsome gobins, whether they be kings or not. She was here to do a job and get her sister back and nothing else.

Moving slowly as she examined the walls and racks of weapons, Marianne was impressed with how much they had gathered here, even if the condition of the weapons wasn’t always ideal. There were some weapons that were clearly old, with signs of use and sometimes a little rust was evident, but there were other weapons that looked pristine, as if they had just arrived from Amazon. Marianne smirked at herself. Amazon...hehe. Oh yeah, just drop the package outside the fairy hill.

She saw broadswords, maces, flails, axes, lances, spears, crossbows, and daggers, and more--everything someone would want for a fight. Marianne lifted her brows in wonder at the suits of armor and armor pieces, from metal studded leather jerkins to a suit of midnight blue and silver plate armor, engraved with vines and constellations upon the breast plate and vambraces. She felt comfortable in what she wore now, as it would provide her with protection--if only minimal--but it would allow her to move freely, making use of agility over strength. As she moved around the room, her eyes flitting from sword to sword. She was looking for something light, something similar to a foil she would use in fencing, but not quite…

Her eyes landed on a rapier.

It hung on the wall, the only rapier in the room as far as she could tell. It was beautiful, she thought with a slight nod. The blade and handle looked more as if they had been grown than created. The blade--which looked to be made from wood--had a reddish tint to it that started at the tip of the blade and faded into dark green with vines and thick looking leaves growing around the last few inches of the blade and into the hilt and cross guard. It had interesting, and convoluted twists and layers of vine, leaves, wood, and even flower petals.

When she picked the sword up from where it hung on the wall, Marianne could feel the life in the blade. She examined it, turning the blade one way, then another. The pommel looked like a blossoming dark blue rose; the entire rapier looked to be a beautiful, deadly plant.

Bog watched her, his eyebrows rising a little bit in wonder.

Marianne slipped her fingers around the hilt, and it was beautiful! The blade felt as if it had been made for her, immediately comfortable. She moved almost immediately, dancing slowly with the blade, running through old practices she remembered, but adding little flourishes as she moved, having completely forgotten about her audience. The sword was perfect, balanced, beautiful, an extension of her arm.

She had just finished a lunge when the greenery around the sword seemed to spring to life, layers of wood and leaves suddenly raced up to Marianne’s arm to her elbow to create a beautiful and intricately designed vambrace over the one she was already wearing, except the additional vambrace did not feel heavy or uncomfortable over the other one. The vambrace that was connected to the sword felt...right.

Marianne let out a startled gasp, her eyes wide with wonder. The gasp was quickly followed by a grin as she moved once more with the sword, moving with practiced footwork as her eyes lingered on the blade. She glanced over at Bog, her eyes dancing with delight, her smile wide.

Chuckling, Bog nodded. “Magic,” he said which made Marianne beam with pleasure.

Bog smiled at her, his eyes wide, watching her with the dazed expression of someone realizing that the woman he thought was beautiful was something more, that she was everything he had ever wanted…

Bog may not have acknowledged the feeling completely, but he was in love.

Griselda grinned, watching her son stare at the pretty human woman with wonder in his softly glowing blue eyes. She was grinning too because she was sure her dreams for her only child were going to come true after all.

Maybe, after all this time, Bog’s future wife had finally arrived.

*

After a brief stop for Marianne to kiss her sister goodbye, the four of them stood outside the castle in the dim morning light. (Marianne couldn’t be sure if the lack of bright light was because of the forest, if it was cloudy, or this was just how light worked in the Dark Forest, or in Faery for that matter.) All of them wore packs on their backs (except Bog who wore his bag across his broad chest to leave his wings free), and they were all armed. Berliss was dressed from throat to his bare feet (which were wrapped around the arch leaving his clawed toes free) in black that blended with his skin, making the boogeyman look like a shadow. His large wife now wore a mix of leather and plate armor, with large bladed, short hafted axes on her hips.

Griselda grabbed her son. It didn’t matter that he was nearly three times her height, stronger than her or that he was even the king. First and foremost, Bog was her son.

She grabbed her son, wrapped her arms around his waist, and squeezed while Bog smiled and bent over to return his mother’s hug.

“You have to be careful out there. Don’t you think I forgot about you coming back home last time you went to the Dark Wilds with a ripped up wing and a broken leg.” Griselda choked on her words. “You come back in one piece.”

“I will mother, I promise,” Bog whispered softly, hugging her tight.

When Griselda let go and stepped back, she looked to be on the verge of tears. “You promised me grandchildren, so you better come back in one piece.”

Bog laughed. “I will.”

Sunny stepped forward and put his hand out, Bog took Sunny’s hand, both men shaking. “I’ll keep an eye on things for you.”

Bog chuckled. “Oh you will, will you?”

Sunny grinned. “It’s all part of my evil plan to take over the kingdom with my charm.” He winked at Bog who laughed. “Well Sunny, my friend, you are far more charming than I will ever be. If you take over while I’m gone, please give me one of the nice cells when I get back.”

Sunny grinned. “I promise.”

Turning to Marianne, Sunny bowed formally. “I swear to watch over your sister and keep her safe, Princess Marianne.”

Marianne bowed back. “Thank you Lord Sunny.”

“It’s just Sunny,” he said with a blush.

Laughing, Marianne smiled. “Well, it’s just Marianne.”

“All right--Marianne. You have my word your sister will be well looked after,” Sunny said in a solemn ton.

“Thank you.” Marianne surprised Sunny and herself by reaching out and pulling the young elf into a hug.

When she stepped back, Griselda took Sunny’s place, pulling Marianne into a hug. “You and Bog take care of each other, all right. The Dark Wilds is not a place to be taken lightly. Bring each other back.”

It felt only a little strange to be hugging the goblin woman she barely knew, but it also felt right. Marianne hugged Griselda back tightly. “I will.”

Griselda nodded and stepped back. “Hurry back and bring as many of the mushrooms as you can.”

“We will mother,” Bog said gravely.

He turned and motioned with his staff. “Let’s go.”

Their small group fell into step with each other and started off, heading into what adventure Marianne had no idea. She clenched the straps of her pack staring into the forest around her. She was on an adventure, just like all the books she had read, the stories her mother had told her and Dawn when they were little. Stories about being whisked away into Faery, of handsome fey princes, dragons, unicorns, and great adventure…

Her heart was pounding, she felt giddy, scared, excited. And while Marianne was scared and worried about her sister, there was a part of her that wanted to shout with joy. She was walking beside a handsome, exotic goblin king with a magic sword on her hip!!

She took a deep breath through her nose, smelling the wood, the dead leaves, moss, a cloying scent of something strange but delightful, and it was all so new, strange, and wonderful.

She was going on a real adventure!

*

Adventuring sucked!

Marianne thought this viciously to herself as they continued to trudge through the forest which had lost its magical mystery and wonder about three hours back when she had to piss in a bush and was bitten by a mosquito on her ass! She was going to tell Dawn all about it, which would amuse her little sister to no end Marianne thought just as something jewel colored and buzzing, zipped past her eyes.

Speaking of bugs....

She had seen the regular sorts of bugs; flies, gnats...mosquitoes...the regular bugs, but then there had been...other bugs.

She had seen a few flying monstrosities. Thank goodness they were small, but the insects had too many legs, too many mouths...eww! No unicorns, pixies, or anything else that was supposed to be in a fairytale forest except for Bog and their guides.

Then there was the walking! The endless walking, it seemed. Their small group walked along, climbed over large trees roots, rocks, and splashed through shallow creeks. Marianne’s feet were soggy in her boots, there was sweat running down her back (and it wasn’t even that hot out! The temperature was more along the lines of a warm autumn day than summer, but still she was sweating!) And every muscle--including some she was certain she had never used before because they hurt now--was groaning at her. She thought she was in better shape than this, but after six hours of walking and climbing, she was ready for a hot epsom salt bath and a soft mattress, neither of which she was going to get tonight.

They walked along mostly in silence. Marianne glanced over at Bog, staring at his sharp profile and the layers of natural armor that made up his body. He didn’t seem the least bit affected by the trek. She supposed too that the bugs couldn’t get past his natural armor either. Occasionally he would rustle his wings as if they were becoming stiff, but otherwise he seemed perfectly fine.

He glanced sideways at her and lifted one leafy looking brow.

Marianne smiled. “So, you hike like this a lot?”

Bog smiled. “Not a lot, but I have in the past.”

“Even when you were king?” she asked in surprise.

Bog nodded. “Yes. When I was king, I would travel to the far reaches of my realm to meet and see as many of my people as I could.”

“You didn’t fly?” She glanced significantly at his wings.

Bog chuckled. “Sometimes yes, but not all my people have wings, and it doesn’t do a king any good to be flying above his people all the time.”

Marianne nodded. That made sense, at least if the king was a good and caring person.

She was about to ask another question about what being king was like for him when she heard something rustling in the bushes not far from her. Bog reached out and grabbed her shoulder pulling her closer as they both stared at the bushes. Berliss and Faesys had gone still as well, all of them staring at the mass of green leaves, but after a few seconds when nothing else happened everyone sighed and started to walk again.

“How many things are in these woods that can eat us?” Marianne asked, looking back at the now quiet bush.

Bog shrugged. “I don’t know precisely, but a lot.” He frowned slightly as he glanced down. “How many things in your world can kill you?”

Marianne smiled and pointed at him. “Ah, I see what you did there…”

“I did nothing other than simply point out that while the dangers may be different, they are also quite similar.” Bog grinned at her as his eyes twinkled in the slowly dimming light. (Marianne had noticed over the course of their hike that the sky never brightened more than it had that morning when they had left the castle.)

Marianne nodded her understanding.

*

They had been traveling for another couple of hours after the noisy--and harmless--bush. This part of the trek had been exceedingly annoying, Marianne thought, as they had been forced to climb over several fallen trees. (Bog had told her about a storm coming through several weeks back, attributing to why the trees were down.) And they had come across a wasp’s nest.

Except these wasps had been as long as Marianne forearm, so slicing them in half with her sword had been extra disgusting. Only afterwards had Bog explained to her how dangerous the wasps they had encountered had been, the poison in their stings melting a person from the inside out.

Yuck.

But during that scuffle with the deadly wasps (only a half dozen and killed before they could sting anyone) that Marianne was sure something was watching her from the bushes, following their small group.

She had heard that same rustling here and there that they had all heard earlier while they hiked, but she never saw anything. After a while, she had stopped looking for anything because while she heard noise, nothing ever launched out at her. Marianne was thinking the sound had to be either the wind or just small animals moving around, and after a while, when she heard the noise, she didn’t bother looking for it’s source.

*

A few hours later, it became dark.

Marianne had a hold of Bog’s hand while they hiked, Bog helping to guide her in the darkness, using his staff to move limbs and bushes out of her way while Berliss and Faesys searched for a safe place to make camp. Some ambient light from glowing moss and plants helped to illuminate their path (Marianne had gasped when she had seen the first bits of “fairy-like” light coming from a small field of tiny pink flowers), following the plants that glowed soft blues and rosy pinks, while next came the insects and animals. Marianne saw softly glowing blue butterflies--with wings that looked like living gemstones--drifting through the trees. She saw a glowing, minty colored frog sitting in a shallow puddle, some sort of lizard thing that glowed an angry red as it scurried up a tree, and tiny white glowing flowers, but even with all the glowing lights, it was still too dark for Marianne to walk safely over the rough ground cover without Bog holding her hand.

They had decided against the use of torches because Bog, Berliss, and Faesys were all able to see in the dark and the glow of the torchlight reduced their vision by almost half. They had all decided it was safer to simply let Bog (who had volunteered) to lead Marianne until they found a proper and safe place to camp. Bog’s hand felt warm in hers.

That was Marianne’s most dominant thought at the moment.

Marianne was paying more attention to the feel of his long-fingered hand wrapped around hers than she was to her surroundings. She liked the feel of his calloused skin, though his palm was still also soft. She could feel the gentle touch of his claws, his grip gentle, but firm. She liked that Bog had calloused hands--that meant Bog may have been a king, but he worked. He wasn’t the type to sit around and let others do his work for him, not that she had thought he had ever been that type. Bog struck her as a “take care of business myself” sort of person. Next to her, Bog was keenly aware of Marianne’s presence.

Her hand felt tiny in his hand, small, warm, though he could feel callouses too. He liked that; she wasn’t afraid to work, to get her hands dirty.

While the two of them followed their guides, Marianne’s thought had started to drift a little. After they cured her sister, she wondered if she could convince Bog to leave the doorway open. She had been thinking about that since last night. Did she really want to have all of this (wasps and all) cut off from her now that she knew such a fantastical place existed?

Did she want to have the option to come back?

She had just asked herself that question, her mind searching for the answer when she heard Berliss call out softly.

“Your Majesty, we have a spot--this way.”

Bog groaned under his breath. “Told him not to call me that, especially out here.”

Marianne smirked.

“Come on,” Bog said with amusement in his voice as he led her to their campsite for the night.

Marianne looked back over their shoulder. The rustling sound seemed to be following them again.

*

Groaning from where she sat next to Bog, Marianne stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes in front of the fire. It felt great to get her boots off.

Every part of her, every inch of her body hurt.

They were sitting on some fallen trees around a merrily burning fire. They had just finished eating dinner, consisting of dried meat, dried fruit, and hardtack with some water. It wasn’t the best meal in the world, but after today, Marianne thought it was a feast.

Berliss smiled on the other side of the fire. “Faesys and I’ll take turns keeping watch…”

Bog, who was cleaning his claws with a damp cloth nodded his head. “I will also be keeping watch.”

“But Your Maje…” Berliss began only to have Bog glare across the fire at him. “I said…”

Marianne tensed. There was that sound again!

While Berliss and Bog started to argue about keeping watch (she noticed Faesys roll her eyes and head over to her bedroll, Marianne turned toward the sound, narrowing her eyes. She would have sworn she saw a dark shadows and caught a glimpse of glowing eyes…)

There was definitely something in there…

She reached behind her to grab Bog’s attention when something lunged out of the darkness…

Marianne let out a shriek.