Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Newtopia was once a gorgeous, prosperous city. It had been the crown jewel of Amphibia, the largest country in the east. With such bountiful lands, diverse towns, and lively citizens the country was one of the most beloved in all the lands. And it was one of the most accessible too.

The royal family ruling at the time was much beloved by nearly everyone in the lands due to how revolutionary it was. A country once plagued with inequality among the classes worked to mend itself. After centuries of constant fighting, civil wars, and gross animosity between the three divided classes; agricultural, military, and noble; it all came to an end. Then the sole princess of the land ascended to power at merely fifteen years old, after the tragic death of her parents. Oum Boonchuy, Queen of Amphibia, peace-keeper of a new age, duchess of Newtopia, and the one to start and end new violence.

Just five years later, Oum married her husband; Bee Boonchuy. An average man with a heart of gold and tripped over himself so many times the castle maids refused to see him on principle. But he was everything to Oum; kind, funny, resourceful, and loved her not as a queen, but as a wife. As an equal.

Seven years after marriage, the two had their first and only heir— a healthy, lively baby girl they named Princess Anastasia Boonchuy. The Heart of Amphibia. One loved by all the people, and her parents.

And the family ruled Amphibia with much love. Queen Oum had been ruling for twenty years, fifteen with a loving husband by her side, eight of which with a beautiful daughter. And although Anastasia might not be everything she originally hoped for in a daughter, she was everything she needed and loved. With all her heart.

One night, on the 300th anniversary of Amphibia’s countryhood, the royal family threw a massive celebration. The capital was flooded with people eager to join the festivities. Oum returned that day from royal business in their neighboring country as they were the royals who dealt with foreign affairs. Anastasia and Bee were thrilled to have them home. 

“Mom! Mama!” Anastasia shouted, running up to her mom and engulfing her in as big a hug an eight-year-old could give. 

Oum laughed and hugged her back, giving her daughter a kiss on the forehead and lovingly brushing a hand over her cheek, of which were risen from the wide grin present on her daughter’s face. Once Anastasia was done Bee moved in to kiss his wife, on her temple and lips. And unlike most children, Anastasia didn’t turn away or groan. She merely giggled and grabbed her parents’ hands.

“How was the trip?” Bee asked, walking with his family down the white marble halls.

“Long,” Oum said with a tired sigh. “And exhausting.”

“Mom! What was Los Angeles like?” asked Anastasia, skipping at her mother’s side.

“It’s a lovely city, Anastasia. The buildings are beautiful and the people are so vibrant,” answered Oum.

She then turned to her husband, her delegate face replacing her motherly one. “The negotiations went well, so I was able to have dinner with their Prime Minister,” she added. “Mr. X is pleased to have this trade agreement.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go back so soon!” whined Anastasia. “Mama, please don’t leave again! I miss having you around and dad does too.”

“I’m sorry, Anastasia, but I have to,” Oum said, brushing her hand over her daughter’s head. She tugged at the two curls left by her ears to frame her face while the rest was tied back in a ponytail with lovely bluebell flowers. “This trade agreement is too important to waste. But don’t fret; I’ll be here for two weeks then after the week I’m gone I'll be back for months.” 

As they’d been talking they entered the grand ballroom where all their guests were gathered.

“Fine. Dance with me, dad!” Anastasia quickly dragged Bee to the glittering, polished dance floor while Oum took her seats on her golden throne. Her husband’s throne lay vacant as he was paraded to the dancefloor by their daughter. While Anastasia was too young to have her own throne, when she came of age she would and Oum would make sure it’s perfect for her daughter. 

Bee laughed as he danced with his daughter. Anastasia grinned in delight when her dad spun her around, making the purple skirt of her silk dress float, if only for a few seconds. At times Bee would pick Anastasia up by the waist and spin her around in the air, resulting in many excited squeals and giggles from their daughter. Oum laughed and shook her head endearingly when Anastasia made goofy faces at her behind her dad’s back. 

Then a familiar face showed up. Oum smiled, almost deviously, and beaconed her two estranged family members over as the figure approached. Anastasia ran to her mom and hugged her side. Bee walked over and stood by Oum who awaited the arrival of her trusted friend.

“Captain Waybright! So good to see you’ve returned from your campaign,” Oum exclaimed, stepping forward and shaking the hand of the captain. 

Said man was on the shorter side; leveling off at around 5’5. But what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. The captain was a thick build, brick of a man. He had light brown skin and no hair, but if he did it’d be darker brown. His arms were covered in jagged scars from battle and a long one ran over his right eye, down his cheek, and over his lip, rendering the eye blind. He wore the traditional garments of an Amphibian captain of the time; copper and bronze armor, brown under clothes and heavy brown boots. However, the captain was dressed up for the occasion, adding on a maroon red cape trimmed in black fur and three shimmering metals he’d earned in his years of servitude. 

“Thank you, my queen. It is good to be back,” Captain Waybright said with a bow and pressed a quick peck on the back of her hand. It resulted in three short bouts of laughter from the adults. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a plus one to this party.”

“Really? Whom might this plus one be?” asked Oum while wiggling her eyebrow with a catty smirk. Anastasia giggled and hid her mouth in her hand.

“Come on out,” the captain said, looking down at his leg and holding his cape open. 

A girl, no older than Anastasia, peeked out from behind the captain’s leg. She was different from her father; papery white skin, face and shoulders dotted with freckles, a distinctive mole on her left cheek just under the eye, blonde hair kept up in a ponytail, and sharp, milky blue eyes. The girl wore a simple blue dress going down to her knees where sleek, brown, leather boots were. A silver belt was tied around her waist where a dagger and its sheath were attached.

“Your highnesses, please meet my daughter; Sasha Waybright,” the captain said, Sasha waving from her father’s side. Anastasia waved back, mirroring the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss. Waybright,” Oum nodded kindly. 

“When did you have her, Grime? I wasn’t aware you had a partner,” Bee asked, draping an arm over his wife’s shoulder.

“I adopted her, actually,” said Grime, placing a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Her parents were killed in a raid on her village. Small place on the border of the country. She was one of the only survivors. Other kids made it out, but no adults. The kids were then taken in by family living elsewhere. She was the only one without a family.”

“That’s horrible!” Anastasia said. All the eyes dropped to her and she squeaked, hiding behind her mother’s leg. Everyone chuckled at the shy princess then returned to their conversation.

“I’m glad this young girl has a home now,” Bee said.

“As am I,” Grime smiled, a rare sighting for the generally tough captain.

“Well, now that we've chatted a bit I think I'll head to the dance floor. A certain young princess owes me a dance,” Oum grinned, looking down at Anastasia. She grinned back and grabbed her mom’s hand, dragging her to the dance floor where other citizens were dancing to the quick-paced music. 

Bee grinned, as did Grime as they watched the two women take their place on the dance floor. Anastasia attempted to mimic the dance moves the other guests were doing but, unfortunately, she was far too short. For the next hour the royal family took to the dance floor. Bee and Oum took turns dancing with the ever energetic Anastasia, and also found a moment to dance with each other when the young Sasha Waybright very clumsily asked Anastasia to teach her some dance moves. Anastasia agreed of course and for fifteen minutes the two were off in a corner figuring out how to dance like their elders while being less than four-feet-tall.

But after an hour Oum returned to her throne. Her week-long trip had been exhausting, and in just two short weeks she’d have to return to the grand city of Los Angeles to finalize the trade agreements. Anastasia and Bee, however, still had relentless amounts of energy left from the day. As such, they stayed within the crowd, dancing to their heart's content. As father and daughter.

However, after some time Oum beaconed Anastasia over. The young girl left her father under the promise she’ll return then ran up to her mother. Bee, ever intuitive, knew precisely what Oum was doing and gave the two space, instead talking to fellow party-goers.

“Anastasia, we know how much you miss me whenever I leave,” Oum said, taking her daughter by the arms. “So while we were in Los Angeles, I got you something that might make our separation easier in the coming years.” 

She then let go of Anastasia's arms. Reaching behind her throne  she produced a small bag Anastasia hadn’t noticed beforehand. 

She unwrapped it and produced two things; a small music box and a key on a golden string. The music box was small enough to fit in Anastasia’s hand; golden and holly-green with images of a frog in the tropical woods and an engraved sun design. They key was a golden color, three gemstones embedded in the bow; a pink one on the left, a green one on the right, and a blue one on the top all strung on a golden chain.

Anastasia gasped in delight at the precious gift and took the box in her hand. “For me? What does it play?” 

During this time a girl had sunk in from the kitchens and hid behind the thick curtains which were behind the thrones. The young girl was the same age as Anastasia, but she didn’t look it; scrawny and gangly-limbed with many cuts and bruises adorning her body considering how accident prone she was. But underneath it, she was tan skinned with raven black hair and curious green-gray eyes that watched the royals with interest. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she looked at Princess Anastasia.

However, a butler of the ball spotted her and briskly strutted over with a face conveying no pleasure.

“Marcy, you belong in the kitchen!” the butler whisper-shouted, grabbing the young girl as she silently kicked and squirmed but was ultimately removed from the ballroom.

“Watch,” Oum said, taking the box from Anastasia’s hands then fitting the key into the hole on the box. She twisted it a few times then removed the key. The lid popped open, two small figures; an anthropomorphic blue frog in a golden and white dress and an anthropomorphic green newt in a red suit spinning in an eternal dance together. The music played, soft and calm. Anastasia gasped as she recognized the tune.

“It plays our lullaby!” she whispered in excitement.

“You can play it at night before you go to sleep. And pretend that it’s us singing,” Oum told her. She then hummed along to the music, then sang their secret lyrics.

“On the wind, cross the sea, hear this song and remember,” she sang softly. Anastasia joined her, singing in tune with the lullaby played. Their voices may not match, and Oum may be tone deaf, but it was sweet and melodic all the same. The cadence was even and matching, even if slightly out of tune.

“Soon you’ll be, home with me, once upon a December,” they sang together, Anastasia giggling once they were done. Oum then placed the key in Anastasia’s hand.

“Read what it says,” she encouraged.

“‘Together in Los Angeles’,” Anastasia read off. She looked up at her mother with wide eyes.

“You mean it?” she asked. Her mother nodded with a wide, bright loving smile. 

Then the doors to the room loudly swung open. Anastasia jerked around, her mother abruptly stood up. The music stopped and people gasped as a large figure entered the room. The royal guards dotted around the ballroom drew their weapons in case it was something dangerous. Bee froze, eyes wide, then scowled deeply, a look few had ever seen on his typically smiling face, as he recognized the figure. 

Andrias Leviathan. A former confidante of Oum for many years. His family had close ties with the crown for centuries only for Oum to end it after he learned the Leviathan family had been using their association with the royals to exploit the people of Amphibia. Andrias and his father, the only other living family member he had, had been banished from the capital for over a decade, forbidden from entering the castle under the penalty of death. Yet here he was, the youngest Leviathan descended strutting into the palace on its anniversary nonetheless. And fatherless which likely meant Aldrich was long dead. But his influence clung to his son like a steel chain.

Andrias was a tall man, 6’4 without his thick boots. He wasn’t young either, probably in his late 40s or early 50s though it was hard to tell. The man had brown skin, a thick gray beard and a mane of gray hair kept in a ponytail on the nape of his neck. His eyes were a cunning and deceitful hazel, yet they held pain beyond what words could describe. Pain and loss of a life he could never live. He wore royal colors of gold, blue, and purple as he strutted into the ballroom; hands neatly folded behind his back.

“Well, is this a fine party,” Andrias drawled, his voice sending chills down Anastasia’s back. 

The child had since abandoned her mother at the throne and ran to Bee’s side, holding one of his hands in her own as she boldly watched the massive man walk closer. Oum, however, was faster, strutting down the stairs and standing beside her husband and daughter like an archangel.

“What are you doing here, Andrias?” Oum growled, Andrias faking offense.

“Doing here? Why Oum, I thought we were closer than that! After all, I am your most trusted confidante,” said Andrias, mockingly bowing before the gathered royal family. He eyed the princess with interest to which Bee quickly pushed her behind him. Andrias then righted himself, glancing shortly at Bee like one could look at a moth to stare Oum in the eyes.

“Not anymore. You and your family are not welcome here, Andrias. You’ve been banished for a decade, you dirty traitor. Now leave before I call the guards and order your execution,” Oum said lowly, her face hard, eyes dark, and a scowl present.

“Banish me? Hah!” Andrias boomed with laughter. Anastasia yelped and grabbed her father’s clothes.

“You can not banish me, Oum! Mark my words, your demise is coming. And I for one hope to have a front row seat to watch all you’ve worked for, all you’ve cared about to be ripped away from you,” Andrias grinned almost animalistically.

“Leave!” shouted Oum, tensing his stature to prove he wouldn’t ask a second time. While a relatively small woman, Oum could be intimidating when needed.

“I’ll leave, Oum. For now,” said Andrias, turning on his heels and marching out of the ballroom. 

The doors slammed shut behind him, murmurs erupting between the guests.

“Mama, dad, what’s going to happen?” Anastasia asked, Bee and Oum turning around and kneeling to look at his daughter. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Anastasia,” he said with his calm voice, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you worry.”

He lied.

Chapter Text

Just a fortnight had passed when the castle was attacked. Bee, Oum, and Anastasia worked to get everyone out safely, the staff of the castle rushing to emergency exits as the grand palace was overrun by those who were a part of the coup. Once everyone was out the Boonchuy family worked to escape themselves. Only dressed in their night clothes, coats, and shoes they rushed down the halls while hearing the thunder of boots following them.

“Hurry! This way,” Bee said while Oum held Anastasia.

“Wait! My music box!” Anastasia cried, tearing away from her mother and running back down the hall.

“Anastasia! Get back here!” Oum screamed, the family stopped and chased after her. 

As they were at the end of the hall a man with a musket leaped out. He didn’t look normal. Orange eyes bore on them and a thick feeling of dread washed over the two. Bee yelped and Oum dragged him out of the way. They ran for the hall their daughter bolted down, the attacker right behind them. 

At the end of the hallway, the royal couple hefted the doors closed, right in the assailant’s face. Oum dropped the metal guard and Bee grabbed Oum's hand. Together they rushed down the hall, to Anastasia’s room where their daughter likely was. They found Anastasia frantically searching her room for the music box. Oum closed the door, locked it, and wedged a chair beneath the handle as they heard footsteps approaching. Bee grabbed Anastasia just as she found the music box.

“Where do we go?” Oum asked, flinching as they heard gunshots and doors being slammed open. Crashing and banging as these people ransacked their home.

Then a child —the kitchen girl from the party— rushed into the room from a secret door built within the wall. She grabbed Bee and Oum by the sleeves dragging them towards the wall.

“Over here, out the servants door,” Marcy said, pushing them all in the small door within the wall. There was the heavy sound of boots. They were getting closer.

“Hurry Anastasia!” Oum said, Marcy shoving the girl in the door and accidentally knocking the music box out of her hand. 

“Anastasia! Oum!” Bee cried, being the first person in the door.

“My music box!” said Anastasia. She tried pushing past to grab it, but Marcy blocked her way, shoving her back in by the shoulders.

“Go! Go! Before they catch you!” she urged, closing the door behind the Boonchuys. 

Not a second later and the door burst open. The chair went flying and the handle broke from where it's been screwed in. Men with unnatural orange eyes, dressed in brown coats and carrying rifles, muskets, or swords invading the room. Marcy gasped, blocking the entrance door as the men rushed in. One man spotted Marcy and stormed over, slapping her across the cheek and causing her to stumble into the wall.

“Where are they, girl?” the man spat, Marcy grabbing the closest thing to her —a vase— and throwing it at the man. He dodged it and slammed the butt of his rifle onto the side of Marcy’s head, a new wound opening on her temple and leaking blood.

She yelped, crashing to the floor where she busted her chin. Now bleeding from two injuries, Marcy faded into unconsciousness as the men ransacked the room, her hand unconsciously clasping around the music box and as such hiding it from view.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Boonchuys ran from the castle. Together, they pushed their way through the crowd of fleeing people, or people invading the castle, but made sure to keep their heads down so no one would recognize them. If anyone recognized them they said nothing. All around them people were screaming, crying, and running from the grand castle. Bee led them through the streets to the train depot where a train to Los Angeles was leaving.

The depot was packed full of confused and fleeing people. The train was already setting off, many racing to catch up to escape the mass coup. The family of three ran to catch it, Oum keeping a hand firmly clasped around Anastasia’s wrist as they ran. They shoved their way through the frightened crowd with Bee paving a path for them all.

“Keep up, Anastasia!” Oum said as they made it to the caboose where people were standing. A couple people helped Bee up who in turn held a hand out for his wife.

Other passengers helped pull Oum up, leaving only Anastasia who ran with all she had as the train picked up speed.

“Mom! Dad!” Anastasia screamed, tears in her eyes as she reached for her parents. Oum reached over the railing, holding a hand out for her daughter while Bee and other passengers made sure she didn’t fall off.

“Here, take my hand. Hold on to my hand!” Oum called. Anastasia desperately reached for her mother, the train’s whistle making her scream in fright. She managed to grab it, holding on tightly as she ran with the train.

“Don’t let go! Mama, don’t let go!” cried Anastasia.

“I won’t! Just keep running Anastasia!” Oum choked on a sobbed, trying to pull Anastasia to her.

They kept running, the family desperately trying to get their daughter on board with some help from fellow passengers. Then Anastasia tripped, her hand slipping from Oum's grip as she slapped her head on the hard ground; unconscious.

“ANASTASIA!” Oum and Bee screamed at the same time. Oum tried to jump off the train, but Bee and other passengers held her on. Grabbed at her robe or arm and pulled her back onto the train. Bee and Oum sobbed hysterically as they lost sight of their daughter, her unconscious form swallowed up by the sea of people at the station. Oum wept. She buried her face into Bee’s shoulder as her husband held her close. He too cried at the train pulled out of the station, to Los Angeles.

They made it to the sprawling city in four days. News spread quickly of the coup in Newtopia. There Oum and Bee were met with more heartbreaking news; the castle had fallen, many parts set ablaze by those invading. The home Oum knew her whole life, grew up in, married, and raised her child in, was gone.

But to really rub salt in their gaping wound they learned from the escaped workers —Lady Olivia and General Yunan— that it was Andrias who started the coup, and who drove them from their home. It was also Andrias who crowned himself king now that Oum had been forced to abandon the country and Anastasia was as good as dead.

The broken family cried for their lost loved one. Not two weeks ago and they were joyously laughing and dancing to music. Now the heart of them was dead and those surviving were far from their beloved home.

The prime minister of Los Angeles, Mr. X, who was an old friend, granted the Boonchuys a home in the city. But as weeks passed and Andrias took over, rumors of the lost princess soon took flight. For Anastasia’s body had never been found. No mangled corpse sliced and beaten by trains, no frozen remains left in the snow, no singed mummified skeleton buried in a shallow grave. There was no sign of her which meant there was hope. Whispers all around the world of Anastasia Boonchuy; lost princess and Grand Duchess of Amphibia possibly still out there and alive. 

Oum and Bee still believed their daughter was alive and used the last of their money as royals, some ten million coppers, to make a reward for the return of their daughter.

But as the years wore on and false Anastasias—actresses hoping to get a cushy life or a cut of the reward money— kept showing up, poor Oum and Bee started losing hope of ever seeing their dear daughter ever again. Even when Captain Grime escaped Amphibia after seven years and joined them in Los Angeles, he held no news of their daughter. Just that he too had to leave his daughter, young Sasha, in Newtopia since she joined the military.

It seemed their hope for ever finding their daughter died with the crumbled castle that night.

Chapter Text

It was a cold day in the city. Something that would’ve been unusual if it had been ten years earlier, but in the past seven years harsh winters grew more common. And with it, plague, famine, and death.

People were moving quickly; walking from point A to point B with little to no hesitation or small talk. No one wanted to be in the billowing snow and biting wind for long. Everyone kept their heads down and pulled their coats tightly around themselves, marching against the wind and snow. Frost covered windows of the buildings lining the streets, and piles of snow and sludge were piled high out of the way, or left in clumps on the side of the street. Many were filthy, silt, dirt, gravel and manure mixed in with the snow to create an unsavory concoction lining the streets.

Soldiers dressed in crisp blue, gold, and white uniforms patrolled the streets. The new seal of the king was painted largely on their uniforms for all to see, no matter how much they didn’t want to. Some soldiers stood on street corners watching the people go about their day. Others were standing in alleyways watching for suspicious people while puffing plumes of smoke from cigarettes. Then there were a few patrolling the streets on horseback; most either sleek, well groomed brown, bay or chestnut steeds or thick, heavy gray drafts roamed the cobblestone roads all the while wearing bright blue and gold armor and ribbons. Just to entice even more unease into the people.

Anyone worth their soul steered clear of the soldiers on horseback. While horses wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose their riders controlled them from the saddle. And it's just easier to move out of the way then risk being flattened by a horse. Despite the free public healthcare, few ever got it.

One specific individual was hurrying across the street towards some department and drug store buildings. Unfortunately a soldier on horseback came trotting down the street and rather than stop for the pedestrian he just had his horse bulldoze them down onto the cobblestone. The horse snorted, hooves clicking on the stone as their rider pulled them to a stop to look at the person they’d just knocked over.

The person was relatively young, probably late teens or early twenties. They had rather exotic tan skin in comparison to the pale complexion of those around them, short, choppy-cut black hair, and intelligent green-gray eyes. Their clothes weren’t much; a long sleeved faded shirt, green vest overtop, oversized brown trench coat, thin gray mittens, torn brown pants that looked too small from them, and worn out brown boots. The toss to the ground gave them some new scrapes and tore a few holes into their already poor clothes.

“Watch where you’re going, urchin,” laughed the soldier, the person getting up to their feet.

“Hey! I had the right-of-way! You saw me and purposefully knocked me over!” they shouted.

“Oh, looking for a fight, are ya?” the soldier growled, turning his horse towards the person. “Maybe a few years in the factories ‘ought to teach you respect.”

The soldier reached to grab them, but a silver dappled gray Hanoverian gelding intercepted him. The gelding was decked out in a sleek, well fitting black saddle, expensive black leather reins and bridle, and vibrant blue and gold ribbons tied in his hair. The rider was a woman; pale skin with a scar cutting over her right eye, cold blue eyes, and blonde hair kept in a high ponytail. She wore the uniform of a high ranking soldier; turquoise chainmail and metal chestplate with brown underclothes beneath. Two swords hung from her belt, each with a bird carved into the hilt. 

“Stand down soldier. I’ll take care of this,” the rider said.

“O-oh. Y-yes sir, Captain sir!” stuttered the guard, pulling back on his reins and walking the horse away.

The woman then dismounted her steed, grabbed the reins in one hand and the person’s arm in the other. She then walked them down the street, around a corner to a deserted part of the square.

“Marcy, I know this might be a hard thing for me to ask, but could you please stay out of trouble. For like, one day. I’m tired of saving your ass every time you get snippy,” the woman sighed, releasing the arm of the person.

“Well so-rry, Sasha, that your soldiers are such dicks. I was minding my own business when that asshole knocked me over,” retorted the person, Marcy. “I had the right-of-way too! I crossed on the sidewalk!”

“That’s Captain Sasha to you. I’m still on duty, remember. You’re lucky I haven’t been caught yet. Espionage is punishable by death,” said Captain Sasha.

Marcy barked with laughter. “You? Get caught? Sasha, you and I both know you’re way too smart for that. Trust me, by the time they've figured it out we’ll be halfway around the world, in another country too. They won’t be able to touch us.”

“You really think this plan of yours is going to work?” asked Sasha as she stroked the muzzle of her gelding. “Your other plans haven’t exactly been genius.”

“Hey! I know this plan will work. It's completely foolproof,” said Marcy.

“Yeah, cause it's made by a fool,” Sasha sarcastically replied.

Marcy visibly deflated and blew a huff from her mouth. The warm breath created a little puff of condensation due to the cold air around it. “You have no faith,” she whined with a pout.

“It’s whatever. Listen, I need to finish my patrol before people get suspicious. You march your little ass back to the abandoned castle and stay there until I’m off. And please, for the love of all things good, try not to pick a fight with someone. You always lose and you know it. If you get sent to the factories I can’t do anything to bail you out,” ordered Sasha, remounting her horse.

“Sure thing, oh great captain,” Marcy mockingly saluted. Sasha rolled her eyes and lovingly flipped Marcy off as she trotted back into the crowd of people. 

Marcy watched her leave with a big grin on her face. She then turned on her heels and marched down the street, towards a massive building that once shone like all the stars in the sky and was so enchanting and gorgeous it was called the Magic Center of Newtopia. But times change, kings change, and buildings are forgotten. The castle laid broken and destroyed from the fires that ravaged parts of it many years ago.

Fortunately for Marcy that’s where she’d been holding up for the past five years.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Marcy tossed a new log of wood into the fire. It crackled and popped as the flames ate it up like a hungry dog would a piece of meat. She dusted her hands off then sprawled out on the old couch, Sasha leaning back in a moth-eaten armchair.

They were in the former castle of Newtopia, King Andrias having constructed a new one for himself shortly after his reign began and he destroyed several key parts of the old one. So the former castle was closed down, condemned in the burnt parts, marked off limits and left to collect dust for twelve years. It wasn’t too bad, the place could still be lived in so long as they stayed away from the places touched by the fire. Just don’t mind the animals who claimed it as their haven after many years. Spiders, cockroaches, and insects of all kinds roamed the floors; birds made nests high in the rafters; racoons, opossums, squirrels, mice and other small mammals lived among the walls and ceiling, eating the bountiful food the abandoned castle had to offer.

Technically, no one was allowed in the castle. It had been locked up tight with wooden boards nailed to every known entrance point. But that didn’t stop Marcy from taking up residence in her former workplace. She knew the castle like the back of her hand, and as such she knew all the secret ways in, out, and around the massive building without getting caught. And which rooms could still be inhabited. Ironically, the kitchen, ballroom, and princess’ room remained untouched by everything but dust and age. And Marcy too.

Sasha had gotten off her shift and joined Marcy in the castle as a part-time roommate. While Sasha had a home at the new castle in the captain’s barracks, she preferred staying with Marcy for whatever reason. Ever since they’d met each other at the ripe age of thirteen they’d become fast friends. In fact, it was Marcy who helped sneak Sasha’s father, Grime, out of the capital after he got in deep trouble with Andrias when both girls were fifteen.

“So, Marce, what’s your new genius plan? Become pirates and hope that they take us to Los Angeles? Oo, or how about we join the Amphibian circus. After all, they’re probably looking for a couple of clowns,” Sasha remarked sarcastically, Marcy rolling her eyes.

“No, Sash. This one is going to work,” Marcy said, pushing herself up.

“We’re going to find Grand Duchess Anastasia and return her to her parents,” she then proclaimed in a perfectly even tone. 

“You do know the Grand Duchess is more than likely dead, right? I know you had your little crush on her back when you were eight, but there’s no way she’s still alive. She got lost on the train tracks for one thing, and for another it was winter. She would’ve frozen to death,” said Sasha, looking up.

Marcy rolled her eyes. “No, no, no, Sash. I don’t care about the rumors and bullshit. I’m saying all we have to do is find someone who looks like her, teach her the bare minimum then bing-bang-boom off to Los Angeles for the con of a century! And don’t you dare bring up that crush! Anastasia didn’t even know me, it was more of an infatuation brought on by childish curiosity.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Touchy subject, huh babe,” Sasha smirked widely then continued. “How are you so sure the Emperor and Empress will believe us? They must’ve seen thousands of false Anastasias by now. Its been twelve fucking years.”

“Because we have this,” Marcy produced a very expensive and well crafted music box from her worn coat pocket. “One look at this and the Emperor and Empress will believe us no problem. Trust me, Sasha, I spent days observing the royals, the books in the royal library, and just being a servant. And you know everything there is to know thanks to your father.” 

“You know… this might actually work,” Sasha said.

“Told you,” Marcy smirked, sticking her tongue out at Sasha who, once again, flipped her off.

“Now all we need to do is find someone who can look and act like Anastasia,” said Marcy.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” shrugged Sasha. “There are loads of women in Newtopia, one is bound to look like the Grand Duchess.”

Chapter Text

“Alright kids, you remember the rules whenever we go to town?” an elderly man asked, looking behind him to the back of the wooden wagon. Three people sat back there, ranging in ages. It was also piled high with crates and barrels of vegetable produce they planned to sell at the town’s bountiful marketplace.

The man had heavily sun tanned skin, calloused hands from years of farmwork, and a balding head with wiry gray hairs, once golden blonde, on the side. His eyes were sunken yellow-green, but they still held bright sparks of life regardless of his age. His clothes were dated, probably last worn by the general public thirty years before; a grayish-green waistcoat with a buttoned yellow shirt, a light blue ascot, grayish-brown trousers, and well worn, black work boots caked in mud and dirt.

“Yes, Hop Pop,” groaned the boy, seventeen years of age.

He was lanky; long limbed and slim as a twig. The boy also had sun tanned skin, gray-green eyes, and scruffy golden ginger hair which spilled out from underneath his dark forest green hat with light green goggles. His clothes consisted of white shirt– stained with dirt, a short-sleeve forest green jacket paired with black pants. A red bandana was tied around his neck. His shoes were brown work boots also covered in mud, dirt, and some leaves.

“No running away, no buying anything unimportant, no picking fights, no starting fights, no ending fights, and stay by the stand at all times,” said the youngest of the three, a girl no older than twelve.

And true to all the family she had her farmer’s tan, exotic, bright green eyes, with fire-ginger hair kept in two ponytails with a yellow poke-a-dotted bow on her head. She wore a denim overall that just reached her knees and heavy brown boots. In her lap was a sandy-gray pitbull puppy, missing his front right leg and right eye, but that didn’t stop the puppy from barking and wagging his tail.

“Anne, you’re in charge of watching the kids,” Hop Pop turned his attention to the oldest in the cart besides himself. A woman, age twenty, who was an oddity in comparison to the family. With her lovely brown skin, darker curly brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and brown eyes; she looked rather out of place in the family. But despite it, she still wore similar clothes; light blue denim dress with a sun-bleached orange undershirt beneath, and thick brown boots.

“You got it, Hop Pop,” Anne said, giving the elderly man double finger guns and a dopey grin while the two children groaned.

“Hop Pop, I’m a teenager and Polly is almost one! When will you start treating us like it?” groaned the boy.

“Exactly my point, Sprig,” stated Hop Pop. “You are teenagers therefore your hormones are going all over the place. Why, just a few days ago Anne had to bail you both out after you disrupted the annual cattle drive! You and Polly are impulsive, reckless, and don’t take responsibility. ”

“And Anne does?” Polly said.

“Darn right, I do,” Anne smirked at the youngest.

“Anne has more responsibility in only one of her fingers than either of you two do have in your whole body. In case you haven’t noticed she’s not only an adult, but she’s been helping me run the farm for nine years,” said Hop Pop, twisting around to look at his grandchildren.

“Hop Pop, eyes on the road,” Anne said, Hop Pop tugging the reins so they wouldn’t go off the well worn dirt path.

“Whew, thanks Anne. Now we’re almost to town. I want you two to be on your best behavior, understand?” Sprig and Polly groaned, but nodded. Anne chuckled at her family while the puppy in Polly’s lap barked.

“Hush, Frobo. There’s nothing to bark at,” Polly scolded the dog.

The family traveled down the dirt road. The surroundings were lush with forest life, vibrant shades of green making up the left and right. Occasionally they pass by another farm with acres of land bordered by wooden fences. The closer they got to town the more signs showed up on fences, posts, and trees. Most were the same few phrases over and over again; “Vote Toadstool!” and “Toadstool for Mayor!”. The family ignored the signs as they soon saw the stone archway leading into town. The wooden sign of the town’s motto hung from the arch saying; “ Slow to accept, even slower to respect ” writing on it. Above the sign, carved into the stone itself, was the name of the town; Wartwood.

Their mare pulled the cart through the aged and weathered archway into the town where other farmers were setting up their stands. Neighbors and friends waved and called greetings to them as they passed by. And the Plantars happily returned their wishes of welcome. Hop Pop pulled them up to the Plantar’s vegetable stand, a gold plated sign hanging proudly over the small set up.

“Whoa Bessie,” Hop Pop pulled back on the reins, the family’s mare nickering as she stopped. Everyone hopped out of the cart, Anne walking over to Hop Pop.

“Anne, go hitch Bessie up, brush her down, and give her some water. Once you’re done come help us unload,” Hop Pop said as he unhitched the mare from the cart. Anne nodded and took the reins from Hop Pop. She then walked Bessie over to the hitching post. A few other animals were there; two horses, a mule, and a donkey. She eyed the donkey suspiciously, Marvin well known for his powerful kicks.

“Alright Bessie, here we go girl,” Anne said, tying the mare’s reins to the wooden post. Bessie nickered rubbing her soft pink muzzle against Anne’s arm.

Bessie was an older mare; seventeen years and still pulling all her weight on the farm. But regardless, she was a gorgeous horse; an ink black pinto, patches of black splattered all over her white body that made her look a little bit like a cow. Which is where her name was derived from since it was Sprig who named her as a baby. He took one look at her and said she was a cow horse therefore Hop Pop jokingly called her Bessie which just stuck. No matter how much they tried changing it, she responded to Bessie the most.

Anne followed Hop Pop’s instructions. Bessie was thoroughly brushed down then given a pail of water before Anne returned to the stand where she helped her family unload their produce and set up. Hop Pop barked orders to them and showed each where the vegetables went despite the fact all three had been working on market day since they were six. They then waited for the customers of the day, Anne keeping a sharp eye on her adoptive younger siblings who seemed to be waiting for any chance to run away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hopediah remembered the day Anne came into his life.

It had been a cold day in Wartwood. He’d returned from a business trip to the capitol –visiting his friend Sal and his booming business in the city– only to arrive home and hear the news that there'd been a massive coup resulting in the reigning queen and king being chased from the country entirely and possibly death of the beloved princess. The coup had happened merely hours after Hop Pop left and he’d gone five whole days without knowing his country’s leaders were forced from their own country, and the only heir to the throne was quite possibly dead.

Now Hopediah was never a political man. He had been a former theater major but had to stop in order to take his place on the family farm and raise his new daughter. Never was he one for the needless conflicts and gray morality the political world had to offer. So many times he’s told people, “To be in politics means you’ve sold your soul for money and power”. But even so, he felt the loss as did many. Queen Oum had been the best ruler in over a century, and her daughter had been the heart of the kingdom; their pride and joy. Hop Pop only knew about her from books and the paper, but she seemed like a fine young lady.

With them gone many feared for the future of Amphibia.

Hopediah returned home to his daughter, Lillian, named after his little sister Leif who sadly passed in her late youth, and her husband, Huck (short for Huckleberry), and his two grandchildren; Sprig who was only five years old, and Polly who was nearly one. Lillian and Huck were relieved to see he’d been spared from the attack and Hop Pop had been happy just to be home. On the family farm he was born and raised on, and got to raise his children on too.

He remained in the house for the rest of the day, taking care of his infant and toddler grandkids while Lillian and Huck took care of the farm. Since it was winter they were rationing the food and money, though it seemed they didn’t need to as the harvest beforehand left them with plenty of money and food. They were completely fine that winter.

Now Lillian looked almost exactly like Hopediah, so much the townsfolk often called her the girl Hopediah. She had long, golden blonde hair with a slight bit of ginger to it. She too had sunbaked tan skin, green eyes, and a thick build body from all the farm work. Typically she could be seen wearing a brown and green dress with an apron and mud caked work boots. Lillian often kept her hair pulled back in a long braid, styled after her late aunt who’s personality she seemingly inherited, with a yellow poke-a-dotted bandana tied over her head to keep stray hairs out of her face.

Huck, on the other hand, was much softer than his wife. A historian married into a farming family, it took the man some time to get used to the hard labor his wife’s family was bred for. His formerly pale skin darkened from working out in the sun, but he had the fiery ginger hair both of Hop Pop’s grandkids inherited to some degree. Huck’s eyes, however, were more of a glassy gray-blue framed with a thick pair of glasses due to his constant reading. Most of the time he wore sun bleached shirts under jean overalls. But when he was off on archeology trips or being a historian he typically wore a long sleeved light brown shirt with a animal-hide brown vest, brown pants, sleek black shoes and a black ribbon around his neck he typically tied in a bow.

In the evening, when the last bits of sun left, Huck returned to the house. He showered then took Polly from Hop Pop since she reached for him the second he entered the room.

“Where’s Lillian?” Hopediah asked as he took a seat on the couch, grunting from the day’s work.

“She stayed out. Said she heard something in the woods and wanted to check it out,” Huck said.

“Did she bring a weapon? A lantern? Anything that she could use to protect herself?” Hopediah sat up in his chair, repositioning Sprig who was curled up in his lap; fast asleep. Lillian was always impulsive and often ran head-first into situations without thinking it through. Hop Pop could only hope his grandkids took after their father in that aspect. Huck was much calmer, more collected and tended to think before acting.

Huck chuckled, bouncing Polly in his arms. “She brought the harvest scythe and lantern. If anything’s out there it’ll be sorry,” he said

Hopediah relaxed with that knowledge. Even if Lillian found danger the woman was skilled in defense and was sometimes jokingly called the Plantar’s watchdog because of it. The fire crackled in the hearth as Hop Pop rocked himself and Sprig. Huck cooed at Polly but soon she drifted off to sleep as well in the comforting embrace of her father. Once both children were asleep Hop Pop and Huck took them upstairs where they tucked them into bed, Huck resting Polly in her cradle while Hop Pop set the young Sprig in his bed and pulled the blankets over him.

The two men then walked back downstairs. Hopediah went to the kitchen and fixed himself a drink then offered one to Huck. Huck politely declined the offer.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Hopediah said, looking out the window. “Maybe we should look for Lillian. That girl has a knack for findin’ trouble.”

“She’ll be fine,” Huck waved off.

“DAD! HUCK!” the door aggressively swung open. 

Lillian came running in with the force of a tornado, Hopediah and Huck dashing into the living room to find her setting a small, trembling child on the couch.

“Blanket! Blankets and towels now!” Lillian ordered, both men racing off to do as told. After Leif’s untimely death, Lillian became the woman of the house, so what she said goes. No one wanted their fingers snapped like twigs (yes Lillian has broken fingers of each man. She was pissed off a few times and childbirth is never easy). 

Once back in the living room, Hopediah was able to see the child Lillian found. She was a little girl, dark skin and darker, curly hair that was knotted and tangled with leaves and sticks matted in it. The poor girl had cuts and scrapes all over her arms and legs, the hem of her dress that looked more like a nightgown was torn to shreds and covered in mud just like most of her legs from the knees down. She only had on some boots, one of which missing, a dress, and a jacket along with a rather expensive looking necklace. There was a nasty looking bump on the side of the girl’s head, busted open with dried and crusted blood covering the wound. It was a miracle the thing hadn’t gotten infected. The poor girl was crying, small tears trickling down her face as she winced and whined softly while Lillian disinfected her injuries.

Lillian expertly got the girl cleaned up then leaned back, taking in the whole situation.

“Hello, dear,” she said, gently taking the girl’s hands.

The girl peaked open one eye, her pupil flicking from Lillian, to Huck, to Hopediah.

“H-hi,” she whispered meekly.

“I’m Lillian Plantar, this is my husband, Huckleberry Plantar though we just call him Huck, and that's my father, Hopediah Plantar,” Lillian gestured to each individual. The girl waved shyly then looked back at Lillian.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” asked Lillian.

“A-Anne. I think,” murmured the child. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her wrist. “I-I can’t remember…”

“Alright Anne. What were you doing in the woods?” 

“I-I dunno. I-I can’t remember. I was running, then everything hurt. Then I started walking. I want my mom and dad,” tears reappeared in Anne’s eyes. She sniffed, wiping them away with her small hands.

Lillian looked at Hopediah and Huck. Huck looked very worried about Anne; he always had a soft spot for kids. Hopediah, meanwhile, had no clue what to think. This girl clearly was young, she’d say maybe seven or eight. It seems she lost her memory, and had been wandering through the forest for who knows how long. She was lost, scared, cold, hurting, and probably hungry. 

“Well dear, how about we get you a bite to eat then you can stay here for the night?” offered Huck, kneeling down next to the couch. Anne tentatively nodded, Hopediah hurrying to the kitchen where he fixed a quick sandwich, added an apple and cup of water then returned to the living room.

Anne ate the meal quietly, her eyes curiously roaming the household as she did so. Once she finished Lillian got some extra pillows and blankets then got the girl to sleep. Poor thing was out in seconds. The three then retreated to the kitchen where they discussed the situation.

“Now Lillian, don’t you dare say it,” Hopediah warned, knowing exactly what Lillian was thinking.

“We should adopt her!” Lillian shouted quietly, Hopediah groaning.

“Lillian, the girl probably has a family out looking for her. And we already have two children in the house,” Hopediah said.

“Then what's one more,” said Huck, placing a hand on Lillian’s shoulder. “The girl doesn’t remember anything, she lost her memories, and is scared. She needs a home, someone to look out for her.”

Hopediah pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. These two were always one to pick up strays and those down on their luck. Why wouldn't they immediately want to adopt a girl they just found crying in the woods. Looking at the couple, Hopediah felt his resolve weakening under their pleading eyes.

“We first have to see if she has a family. If we don't find anything then yes, we can take her in,” sighed Hopediah, Lillian and Huck quietly cheering and doing a small victory dance. Hopediah shook his head fondly and smiled. Even at twenty-six and twenty-seven years old they still acted like kids.

For over a month the Plantars searched for Anne’s family, but no one knew anything about her. And she didn’t regain anything despite their best efforts. So after a month she was adopted by Lillian and Huck, making her the newest Plantar family member.

Chapter Text

“And here you are, Ms. Croaker,” Anne said, passing a bag of perfectly picked vegetables over to the elderly woman. 

“Thank you dear,” Ms. Croaker said with a smile. “So kind, Anne. What did this town do to deserve you?”

Anne chuckled, blushing at the complement. Sprig and Polly snickered behind Anne, Sprig nudging his younger sister to which Polly nudged him back.

Sadie Croaker was the oldest citizen in Wartwood, and quite possibly all of Amphibia. No one was sure how old she was, not even Ms. Croaker herself, or if she did she never said. But as such, she was the vegetable stand’s most valued customer. Hop Pop knew her his whole life and she’d been buying vegetables from the Plantars since his grandfather’s time. Anne had developed a sort of role model view for the elder, and upon learning about it, Ms. Croaker started endlessly doting on Anne like she was her granddaughter too. And Anne absolutely loved the attention from a woman she admired.

Ms. Croaker had been a beautiful woman in her youth; tall, slim and curvy with lovely blonde hair she kept short and rich brown skin. But as she grew older she gained soft but well worked, wrinkly old lady skin a brown darker than Anne’s by a few shades, tanned heavily by the oppressive sun she worked in for many decades. Her hair was a curly silver white she kept in a bun on the top of her head. One of her eyes, the left, was blind while the other was brown with a ring of gold within. 

The old woman walked with a wooden cane; she wore ragged, brown patched clothing, with a white scarf around her neck and well worn slippers on her feet. Ms. Croaker was also accompanied everywhere by her small, ink black lapdog, Archie. The dog seemed to be as old as Ms. Croaker himself, but he didn’t show it. Despite being over ten years old no gray or silver hair appeared on the dog’s muzzle and he always was willing to chase Frobo around for hours.

“Well, you take care now, dear,” Ms. Croaker waved, Archie barking at her side. Frobo barked back, tugging at his leash Polly had tied to the stand’s wooden support. The three Plantar children waved back to Ms. Croaker then went about their daily work. Hop Pop, who’d been checking on Bessie, returned to them and the vegetable stand.

“Was that Mrs. Croaker?” he asked Anne.

“Yes, she got her usual vegetables,” said Anne.

“And made sure to butter Anne up like always,” Polly said with a grin.

“She was not!” hissed Anne, flushing from embarrassment.

“Polly leave your sister alone. It’s not her fault everyone in town likes her. She’s just got that kinda charm,” said Hop Pop with a laugh, making Anne blush even more.

“Well, well, well, Plantars,” a pompous voice mused. All four people looked up. 

A man, a pale skinned, portly man with golden blond hair on his head, and a blonde mustache and short beard was walking over. He wore a maroon jacket with dark elbow patches and gold designs on the edges over a white undershirt, a lilac cravat, puffy dark gray pants, and dark brown shoes. On his thick fingers were five gold rings, two of which had red gemstones and one had a light blue alternative.

At his side was a shorter man, still pale but darker than the man who’d spoken. He was gangly limbed, similar to Sprig though shorter by a foot, and had sandy gray hair combed on both sides of his head to give him a butler look. This man wore a formal suit including a white shirt under a black jacket, purple dress pants, and a red bow tie.

“Mayor Toadstool,” Hop Pop greeted with a patronizingly kind smile and raised brow. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

The mayor stopped in front of the stand, leaning on the wooden top. Anne crossed her arms, painting an unimpressed look on her face. Over the years, Anne had her fair share of encounters with Wartwood’s reigning mayor, or dictator, so it seemed, as he continuously got elected despite serving the maximum terms.

For many years they butted heads often; Anne being a family and friendly person while Toadstool was an opportunistic politician. Anne connected well and if someone she liked had an issue with someone else she’d take it just as personally. So when she learned that not only did Toadstool purposefully target the working class for taxes and embezzled the town’s funds, but he was also a greedy, arrogant, and self-centered man she immediately targeted him for her pranks and shenanigans.

When she was young and could get away with it, Anne would kick the mayor in the ankles and knees then scamper off to her family before he knew what happened. It soon passed to her siblings which passed to all the children in town. Soon, the few surviving youths of Wartwood (Ivy Sundew, Maddie Flour and her younger triplet sisters; Rosemary, Lavender, and Ginger Flour) were picking on the large mayor, ganging up on him to hit his ankles with sticks and throw pebbles at him till he ran for cover. 

But as the years passed, and the Plantar parents were murdered in a bandit raid, Anne begrudgingly put up with the pompbus, greedy mayor. And it seemed he too turned over a new leaf after, under his watch, many of his citizens were murdered during raiding. Not only were Anne, Polly, and Sprig’s parents killed, but the Flour wife and the Sundew husband ended up slain in the attack, as were many others. With a widow, widower, and three orphaned children resulting from such a devastating event, Toadstool started taking his job seriously. 

In fact, when Anne was fifteen (two whole years after her adoptive parents died), Toadstool approached her with an offer; help protect and better the town. After promising there were no strings attached to this deal Anne accepted and together they created a better, safer Wartwood. Following they became colleagues, then mutual friends. Toadstool knows Anne would do anything to protect the town and her family, and Anne knows Toadstool truly wants what’s best for the people and was no longer in it for money (though, he never shied away from a copper coin or two). So they were at an understanding.

“Now, now, Hopediah. I don’t mean any trouble,” Toadstool said, raising his hands. “Actually, I’m here with news.”

Anne noticed how Toadstool acted. He was nervous; fidgeting and shuffling his expensive shoes on the ground. Something not akin to the mayor she knew her whole life. Or what she could remember in her life.

“You remember that lil incident we had a few weeks ago, with those Newtopian soldiers?” Toadstool asked.

“Oh lord, don’t remind me,” Hop Pop groaned. 

Anne ran her right hand over her right arm that had only recently mended itself after it was broken by thugs. Horrible Newtopian soldiers who waltzed into town and took advantage of everyone’s begrudging hospitality. Anne, being herself, ordered them out to which they laughed then tossed her to the ground and broke her arm with a barbed club. It hurt like an absolute bitch, but the injury caused a mass frenzy in Wartwood; people rallying together and kicking the soldiers out of their town after hurting one of their own.

“Well, it seems King Andrias didn’t think so highly of our little demonstration,” said Toadstool.

“I sure did!” Polly grinned, jumping into Anne’s arms who caught her after years of practice.

“Hush, Polly,” Hop Pop waved his hand. “What are you saying, Toadstool?”

The mayor sighed. “I’m sorry, Plantars, but the king is sending a small platoon of soldiers this way. They’re coming for Anne.”

The family gasped; Anne’s eyes widened. She was going to be arrested, by order of the king of Amphibia! Why did he care? The king never paid any attention to them to begin with. So why did her skirmish with thugs result in a warrant for her arrest?

“But they’re days out!” Toadstool said quickly. “I just received the letter. The forces are three days away. If you all go home right now, pack up, and leave by the afternoon you’ll miss them.”

“But what about the stand?” Sprig asked.

“Oh don’t you worry about your stand. It’ll be here when you return, I can guarantee it. You four just stay safe, this town wouldn’t be the same without you in it,” said Toadstool.

“Thank you, Toadstool,” Anne said.

“My pleasure, now you better get going. Toadie will oversee your stand’s safety until you return,” Toadstool smiled, nudging the young man beside him. “Once you find a safe place, send a letter. I’ll notify you all when it's safe to return.”

“Yes sir! Your stand will be perfectly fine!” Toadie said.

“Mhm, alright kids, get in the cart. We need to start packing!” Hop Pop ordered, Polly unclipping Frobo and racing to the cart with Sprig while Anne and Hop Pop brought over Bessie and hitched her back up. There was no time to pack up the stand, but by the looks of it, Toadie had it covered.

They waved a quick farewell before hastily starting back to the farm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The trip started out easy. Everyone got their bare essentials, threw them in the wagon and they were on their way. Only problem was, they had no clue where they were going. Only Hop Pop had been outside the valley and he knew very few places they could stay without getting caught. Mostly just inns along traveler’s roads and restops. All of Amphibia’s military would go on a manhunt for Anne once she wasn’t found, so they had to lay low until given the all clear to return back to Wartwood.

“What about Ribbitvale?” Sprig asked while looking at their map.

“Oh hell naw!” cried Polly. “That’s one of the most expensive places to live! We’d be in so much debt after a day we’d have to mortgage the house, like, five times!”

“How about the Dry Swamp?” Hop Pop suggested from the front where he sat with Anne.

“That’ll take us right into the path of the oncoming platoon,” said Sprig.

“Oh,” Hop  Pop muttered, returning his eyes to the road.

Anne hadn’t weighed in on any ideas. Her fingers were busy toying with the necklace she always wore; an expensive piece of jewelry that was her only clue to who she was before the Plantars graciously took her in. It was a strong golden chain with a gold key where three gems of different colors were installed. On the shaft of the key the words ‘Together in Los Angeles’ were engraved into the metal. Sometimes, Anne wondered if her family, the one she’d forgotten, was in Los Angeles, waiting for her. It was a silly thought, but it followed her wherever she went and some nights she’d lay awake on her bed; wondering. Wondering about the potential life she’d forgotten at eight years old.

“What about you, Anne? And ideas?” Hop Pop asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Uhm…” Anne looked down at the key. This was her chance; she’d asked before.

When she was younger and more gullible her mom and dad promised that one day, when all three are old enough, they’d go on a family trip to Los Angeles and not leave until they found Anne’s family. Now Anne knew they were just saying it to have her stop asking, to appease her childish wish, and since they were dead the thought had been shoved to the back of Anne’s mind as she took on the role of lady of the house. But she did ask Hop Pop once, only a year back, and he simply said; “We’ll see.”

“I know, you're going to think I'm crazy, and ungrateful, but what about Los Angeles,” she said slowly. Hop Pop yanked harshly on the reins. Bessie whined loudly and stopped, lashing her tail at Hop Pop and snorting in annoyance.

“Los Angeles?!” Hop Pop cried. “That’s a whole four-weeks long trip by cart! Why would we ever go there?!”

Anne winced, looking away.

“Hop Pop!” Sprig hissed, the elderly man recoiling.

“Oh, right. Sorry Anne, I didn't mean-” Hop Pop tried to amend his error, but Anne stopped him.

“No… no, you’re right. It was a stupid idea,” she hopped off from the cart. They were at an intersection in the road; the left leading to the harbor while the right led to Newtopia where a train for Los Angeles left every three hours. Then a four day long ride to Los Angeles with one train swap at the border.

“Anne I didn’t-” Hop Pop called but she wasn't listening. She just walked over to the intersection and leaned against the pole with arrow signs pointing each direction.

The Plantars hopped out of the wagon to stretch their legs. Frobo raced around with Polly chasing him while Sprig and Hop Pop watched Anne. Hop Pop had remorse in his old eyes. He knew how sensitive Anne was about her family she didn’t remember. She always felt that bringing them up made her seem ungrateful towards the Plantars, and a privileged brat. But all she wanted was to know if she had another family. Biological parents who missed her. Of course family is of choice and not blood, but Anne just wanted answers, or to ask her parents why they left her when she was eight. More so, she wanted closure. She wanted to know if she was someone before the woman she grew up to be in Wartwood.

Anne sat on the ground with her back pressed against the pole. Sprig and Hop Pop were rearranging their stuff to make the trip more comfortable. With a sigh Anne looked longingly towards the direction of Newtopia. It would be a two day trip there, to the city, now that better roads were paved, then a four day trip to Los Angeles by train. 

“Please, if there’s anyone out there, give me a sign,” Anne silently begged. “A clue, anything that could tell me what we should do? I just… I want to know who I am.”

She then slumped forwards, missing the small, black kitten with white paws and curious yellow eyes, that came crawling out of the small forest between the two roads. It was a miracle the kitten was still alive and surviving in the harsh winter, but it looked pretty fat and happy despite obviously being too old to still be attached to a mother. The kitten stumbled over to her, meowing and purring as it rubbed its warm, tiny body against her leg. Anne jumped, looking down to see the kitten looking up at her with big, round eyes.

“O-oh. Hello there,” Anne reached down and picked up the kitten. “What’re you doing out here all alone?”

The kitten mewed. Anne smiled; she had a soft spot for animals of all kinds. When she was little she’d often feed stray animals resulting in lots of stray cats and dogs roaming the Plantar farm. Which wasn’t a bad thing since their mouse population dropped and gophers seemed to disappear overnight. Though Hop Pop wasn’t too fond of all the animals running up to him the second he stepped out of the house. It resulted in a brief scolding for Anne and Hop Pop shooed the strays away.

“Aren’t you a cutie,” she cooed, the kitten swatting at her fingers. Anne giggled, pressing the kitten to her cheek. She –Anne checked– was so soft and warm; vibrating with her purrs. There were barely any mats in her kitten fluff nor fleas or ticks. She was one lucky kitty. The kitten meowed, pawing at a loose curl hanging out from Anne’s ponytail. Anne giggled again. Oh now she’d love to keep this kitten.

“Anne! We’re fixing to leave!” Sprig called. Anne gave the kitten a sad look. There was no way Hop Pop would let her keep the kitten. They already had Bessie and Frobo, and despite being the oldest, Anne wasn’t privileged. While Sprig and Polly could bring home cats and dogs all they wanted in their youth, the second Anne asked for something as simple as a barn cat, it was, “No Anne! Your siblings already have this house overrun with pets and don’t bother taking care of them! We don’t need another animal making a mess in this house!” 

Despite the fact that it usually was Anne taking care of the critters her siblings brought home and the only reason they ran a muck was because there were five of them at a time and Anne had countless chores to do so she couldn’t watch them all the time. And as such they got bored. And Sprig nor Polly bothered helping as they were too young and lacked the responsibility.

With a sad sigh Anne placed the kitten on the ground. “Sorry little one, but my grandfather only lets the cute ones have pets,” she said, walking back to the wagon. Seems like it was a day of bad luck for Anne. First she had to leave the valley because she might be arrested, then she got scolded, and now she meets an adorable kitten who she’ll never see again. And will likely die come the next blizzard, but she tried not to think about that scenario.

She was about halfway to the wagon when she felt a tug on her leg. Looking down, she saw the kitten had hooked her little claws into her sock, tugging and pulling her in the direction of Newtopia.

“Looks like you found a friend, Anne,” Hop Pop chuckled, gesturing towards the kitten.

“Yeah. It seems like she wants me to follow her,” Anne said, picking up the kitten.

“Great, a cat wants us to go to Newtopia,” said Polly, leaning over the side of the cart. Frobo hopped up too and looked down at the kitten with interest, his head cocking to the side.

“Well we’ve decided to head to port. We’ll stay at an inn there until we’re given the all clear,” said Hop Pop, though he sounded unsure. Like it was a last-resort option rather than an active choice.

Anne nearly groaned. She was this close to unlocking the secrets of her past, yet she’s robbed of the chance. Then she paused and thought for a second. Anne was an adult; twenty years old and she’s been running a farm (with her grandfather) since she was thirteen. She had her own coppers, her own bag, and a desire to know.

“I’m not going,” Anne said finally, the Plantars freezing.

“What?” Sprig asked.

“I’m an adult. I have my own money and I want to go to Newtopia to get on a train to go to Los Angeles. I promise I’ll come back, but I need to do this. I can’t wait anymore,” said Anne cradling the kitten to her chest.

“This is my only chance to see if I had a family before you guys took me in. I’m going to Newtopia,” she declared, walking to the wagon and shouldering her bag. 

She then turned her back on the Plantars, her family, marching down the road with the kitten snuggled in the crook of her arm. Anne barely made it past the sign when the wagon rolled up next to her.

“I’m not stopping. And there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind,” Anne said, walking forward.

“We’re not making you stop, Anne. And we’re not making you change your mind,” Hop Pop said as they walked together. “Climb in, we’re all going to Los Angeles.”

Anne stopped which resulted in Hop Pop stopping as well. She looked at Hop Pop, disbelief written all over her face.

“Are you serious?” she whispered in both hope and disbelief.

“Yes. You’re right, Anne. This is a journey you need to go on, but we won’t make you do it alone. We’re a family after all. Now, on to Newtopia,” said Hop Pop, an apologetic smile on his face. Anne hopped back onto the wagon and took her place beside Hop Pop.

“Yay! Adventure to Los Angeles!” Polly cried, throwing her hands up. Sprig cheered and Frobo barked along with them. Hop Pop flicked the reins and Bessie pulled them onwards.

“Say Anne, what’re you gonna name your kitten?” Sprig asked, leaning over her shoulder to see the black and white kitten. Of whom was sound asleep, tucked in Anne’s arm.

“I’m not sure… how about Domino,” she said, watching the kitten’s twitch in her dreams.

“I think she likes it,” said Polly.

“Welcome to the family, Domino,” Hop Pop said.

Chapter Text

“Four tickets to Los Angeles, please,” Hop Pop told the man behind the glass.

They’d made it to Newtopia in two days, stopping at an inn along the road for one night. All the Plantar children were completely captivated by the massive city. While it was cold, and snow, dirty and clean, lined the street the place was unlike anything from their wildest dreams. Hop Pop had said it was even prettier when the former family ruled, that Andrias now had a dictatorship resulting in lots of censorship. But when the Boonchuys ruled the city was exploding with art, music, and theater. It was a wide cultural hub for anyone to pursue their dreams from all over the nation. That’s why Hop Pop had been a theater major, his first trip to the city with his sister (of whom was visiting childhood friends) when he was in his late teens inspired him to pursue the arts.

“Exit visas and passports,” the man held out an expecting hand.

“Exit visas?” Hop Pop echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“No exit visas or passports, no ticket, sir,” the man hung a ‘LUNCH BREAK’ sign on his booth and slammed his shutters in Hop Pop’s face. The entire row of ticket agents likewise did the same. A couple people who’d also been in other lines took surprised steps back, then grumbled in annoyance. Sprig and Polly glared at the windows. Anne scowled.

“Rude,” muttered Hop Pop, turning away from the window. “These people used to be so nice, when I was younger. Always patient to new folk. And they keep changing these things. Exit visas. Passports. Back in my day we had to walk everywhere! We didn’t have these fancy trains and cars rich folk have. It was just your own two legs or a horse.”

“Well now what are we going to do?” Polly asked as the family started walking away. Frobot was walking by her feet on his red leash. Anne followed. Domino was still cradled in her arms, sound asleep.

“Psst,” Anne felt something tug her clothes. She stopped and looked behind her.

An older woman with medium length, grayish-blonde hair and brown skin stood by her side. One of her eyes appeared slightly out of shape, maybe an old shiner that never healed properly. A black hooded dress covered in stitches adorn her, though gold necklaces looped around her neck. In her only hand, as she was missing the right, was a broom, so she was more than likely a street sweeper.

“Uh, can I help you?” Anne asked. Sprig walked over followed by Hop Pop and Polly.

“See Marcy... She can help you get to Los Angeles,” the woman said in a hushed whisper.

“Where can we find this ‘Marcy’ person?” Hop Pop inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

“At the old palace, but you didn’t hear that from me,” said the woman, quickly shuffling off to sweep the sidewalk.

“Sooo… are we going to listen to the creepy old lady or not?” Polly asked, looking at Hop Pop.

“Well, it's either that or we ride all the way to Los Angeles,” sighed Hop Pop. “Come on, kids. Let’s head to the palace.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Marcy sat at an old table, Sasha sitting next to her. Before them was an abandoned stage in an even more abandoned theater. Women in the dozens were gathered for auditions to be Anastasia. Marcy tapped her pencil on the wood, scratching off several names from the list before her, after several awful actors attempted their best impersonation of the missing princess. Sasha groaned and shielded her eyes at the woman on stage.

“And I look like a princess, and I dance like a feather,” the woman said, Marcy quickly scratching out the name. She didn’t even look like Anastasia; pale, blue eyed, and blonde. Honestly, why did she even audition? Was she trying to whitewash their nation’s history? It was the money, and prospect of living as a princess, this Marcy knew all too well.

“Okay, okay thank you,” Marcy said, gesturing for her to leave. Begging in her mind for her to vacate the building. “Next please.”

A woman walked on the stage and Marcy felt her stomach drop, all the way down to her shoes. This lady was half a century too old, had short gray hair, sickly pale, wrinkly skin, sunken green eyes, and she was smoking for god sakes! Anastasia and the royal family in general never smoked. Queen Oum and King Bee knew the effects it had on the human body and refused to even go near a cigarette, much less let their daughter have one.

Both Marcy and Sasha stared at the sight, too stunned to speak. Marcy’s jaw was agape and Sasha looked abjectly modified. The woman dramatically dropped her thick, purple feather boa.

“Mami, papi, it's me, Anastasia,” the woman said, moving her hips in a way that made Marcy want to brush her eyes with her horse’s currycomb. Beside her, Sasha groaned and hit her head on the table.

Quickly Marcy scribbled out the name and dismissed the woman. She dismissed everyone and sumped back in her chair. After a few minutes Marcy and Sasha gathered everything, shut down the place and left. Marcy made sure to lock it all up then descended the small stack of ice-covered stairs.

“That’s it, Marcy. Game over. Your genius plan has once again failed us. Our last coppers are all gone for this stupid fucking flea-infested theater, and still no girl to pretend to be Anastasia!” Sasha snorted, kicking a pile of snow in frustration.

“Hey now, Sash, that’s not a good attitude to have,” Marcy said. “Trust me, we’ll find her. She’s here somewhere, right under our noses.”

They started walking down the sidewalk, passed a wagon pulled by a black pinto mare. Marcy eyed the family of four in it who were busy talking to a random person on the street. Her gaze didn’t linger, she was too focused on Sasha who was still not convinced. But she did catch what the person said to them.

“There’s nothing there. No, no there’s no one living there, go on. Don’t go near that place, you hear. It's dangerous.”

“Don’t forget, one look at this jewelry box and the Empress and Emperor will think we’ve brought the real Anastasia-” Marcy said, briefly flashing the music box. “And before they catch on, we’ll be off spending the ten million coppers on the other side of the world.”

“I sincerely hope you're right,” grunted Sasha as they made their way back to the abandoned palace.

“Yeah, so do I,” Marcy thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Well kids, here we are. The Grand Boonchuy Palace,” Hop Pop said, looking up.

Anne wasn’t sure how to feel. The building before her was breathtaking; tall, sprawling, and once upon a time it probably glowed. But now it was left forgotten. Every door and window was boarded up. Snow and dust laid in a thick layer over the building, completely blanketing it. Several parts of it had been burnt down, completely left to ash and charred remains.

“Looks a lot more depressing than your pictures, Hop Pop,” said Sprig.

“Well no one has lived in it for twelve years,” Hop Pop grunted.

The family had hopped the fence, leaving Bessie and her wagon in a secluded spot where no one would see her. Afterall, according to the man they’d spoken to, the castle was condemned. They cautiously approached the building, taking in the massive columns and grand architecture. They looked for entrances inside, Anne walking over to a boarded up doorway. Domino meowed and leaped from her arms. The quick little kitten slipped underneath the boards, Anne dropping to her knees.

“Domino! Domino where are you!?” Anne called, trying to spot the kitten, but she saw nothing. It was far too dark and the boards were too close together.

Anne grabbed one of the boards and gave it a push, resulting in it snapping and her going tumbling forward with a yelp. Falling through the newly made hole, Anne coughed on the dust kicked up. She shook her head then looked around. Sitting perfectly in front of her was Domino, her kitten tail curled around her white paws. Anne scooped her up without a moment’s hesitation.

“Anne? Are you okay?” Sprig called, the Plantars slipping through behind her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. At least we found a way in,” said Anne, standing up and brushing herself off.

“Alright gang, split up and look for this Marcy person,” Hop Pop said. The four diverged accordingly, Polly following Hop Pop since the castle started to freak her out. Sprig went off on his own while Anne took in the building.

It seemed like she was standing in the entrance of the palace; grand paintings and murals hung from the walls, weathered with age, and columns standing before her like sentries. Anne slowly walked forwards, careful about where she stepped as many places in the grand castle were cracking, or had shattered glass scattered along the floor. There were stairs before her, going up and leading to a second level.  She walked up the stairs, carefully and slowly. Dust scattered in her wake and her shoes left footprints wherever she stepped.

“Hello anybody home?” she called, Domino trotting after her down the hall. Anne entered a partially destroyed room and bent down to inspect half of a broken plate. However the second her fingers brushed it she felt something, like a zap of static and pulled her hand away. The place, the palace, seemed so familiar to her. Like out of a story book, or a dream.

Looking around, Anne spotted a large vase where bears in ballerina outfits were dancing gracefully were painted on it. Behind the vase, on the wall, a tapestry hung where dozens of white horses were galloping through the snow in the countryside.

“Bowls, plates,” Anne hummed, looking around the room. “This place it’s… it’s almost like a memory or a weird dream. Or deja vu?”

Domino meowed as Anne left the dining room, down the hall to a massive staircase. On the wall hung a massive and absolutely stunning portrait. 

It had three people in it; in the center of the portrait, daintily sitting in a chair, was a woman, curly brown hair and wise yet kind brown eyes, light brown skin dressed in a silk, white and gold dress, a piece of fabric going over her shoulder and a blue butterfly pin in her hair. She smiled at the painter, a smile full of love and security and her eyes almost sparkled, even as a painted portrait. 

To the woman’s left, standing behind her, was a man, hand resting on the woman’s shoulder and smiling almost dorkishly. He too was dressed in royal fancy clothes, made of silks and decorated with purples, whites and gold, but he had hazel eyes, skin like Anne’s, and hair slightly darker and redder brown than her’s. 

Finally, sitting on the woman’s lap, perched perfectly on her leg, was a little girl. She couldn’t be older than six, bouncy brown curls framing her face and she too wore a dress to match the woman’s —her mom. The girl had brown eyes that looked like a mixture between the two adults, and she had a sweet, innocent smile that could melt any heart.one you’d want to protect and cherish forever.

“There’s something familiar about this,” Anne muttered. Domino meowed at her feet.

“It’s just… the dancing bears… And the painted wings… they’re like things I almost remember,” she said, turning around to look at the massive ballroom below. It lay empty and abandoned, dust coating the once polished and glistening floor. No lights from grand parties, just little rays shafting in from the crumbling boards.

Once Upon A December

Vaguely, like it had been carried by the breeze, Anne could almost hear music. She could almost see people dancing, a grand party taking place. Expensive gowns, lavished decorations, and music that came from the back of Anne’s mind; the black void where her missing memories remained locked up.

Someone holds me safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm.

Anne could almost feel a warmth embracing her. Like someone, or more than one person, was hugging her. Hold her close to their chest so she’d never feel cold or lonely ever again.

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.

The dance below, the one she thought she was imagining, picked up. People spun and twirled in time with the instrumental music, sliding across the floor with grace and weightlessness to their strides. Like birds flying in the winds.

Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember.

The three people from the painting appeared before Anne. She’d descended the stairs while transfixed by the scene. She wasn’t sure if it was real but regardless, it was beautiful. The man with his bright smile danced with the little girl, spinning her around while the mother watched and laughed from the side.

Things my heart used to know. Things it yearns to remember.

They switch partners. The girl now danced with the woman while the man watched, his bright grin never faded nor flickered. All three were grinning and laughing, a brilliant sparkle in their eyes. The music began to fade. People in the crowd disappeared.

And a song someone sings.

The family stopped. They looked at Anne and smiled like they knew her. The little girl waved before taking the woman’s hand.

Once Upon A December

And they were gone. Anne was alone at the bottom of the staircase of an abandoned castle. Domino rubbed herself against Anne's leg.

“Anne! We didn’t find anyone!” Sprig called. Anne turned around. The Plantars stood at the top of the staircase.

“You okay, Anne? You look a little pale,” Hop Pop asked.

“‘M fine. It was nothing,” Anne said, walking back up the stairs.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?!”

Chapter Text

Marcy had just returned from the failed plan. Sasha had once again sprawled herself out on the couch while Marcy tended to the fire. She then sat back, sighing in disappointment over the plan. She’d been so certain; she couldn’t let Sasha know she was doubting herself. Afterall, Marcy had the box, she had stolen a couple passports and tickets (how many even she didn’t know; she just nabbed them off the first person she saw with them), and all they needed was the girl. Both Marcy and Sasha knew everything about the royal family, so when they had to prove it to the Emperor and Empress' Lady in Waiting, Lady Olivia of the Highlands, they could easily teach the girl everything she’ll need to know.

But they had no girl; a fundamental part of the plan. No Anastasia, no ten million coppers. Marcy had thought she’d finally get to leave Newtopia after spending her whole life there, but no, she’s still stuck.

Sasha broke out their food; two apples and a loaf of bread. It wasn’t much but it was something. They both got an apple then split the bread. Marcy ate in silence, as did Sasha. Each lost in their own little worlds of disappointment.

Then Marcy heard something. It sounded like something crashed, but after no further disturbances she chalked it off as her imagination. But then, after a few minutes, she heard something else. Like… people talking.

“Sash, you hear that?” Marcy asked, standing up.

“Hmm?” Sasha looked up.

“Listen,” said Marcy.

There it was again; muffled conversation. Marcy looked at Sasha. No one else was supposed to be in the castle. It was condemned and only they knew the best entrance.

Quietly, they both left their little room. Marcy took the lead, following the voices down hallways. Eventually, it led them to the grand ballroom. The two women were on the far balcony area overlooking the room. While doing so they were able to see four people below them. One was at the base of the stairs while three others and a dog were at the top.

“Hey!” Marcy shouted. “What’re you doing here?!”

The woman at the bottom of the stairs startled. She whipped around and after spotting Marcy and Sasha she ran up the stairs. Marcy and Sasha raced down their set of stairs and chased after her. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, hold on a minute. Hold on!” Marcy called, stopping at a steppe on the staircase while the woman and her family stopped further up, near the Boonchuy portrait. Marcy panted from the surprise run then looked up, annoyed. It had been a long day and she didn’t need to deal with this.

“Now, how did you get in he-here?” Marcy started but stumbled over her words. Now that she was able to see this woman she was immediately struck by how beautiful she was. Dark skin, darker, curly hair kept in a ponytail with some loose strands framing her face, lovely hazel-brown eyes. Marcy’s heart skipped a beat just looking at her; curse her lesbian heart.

The next thing she saw was the portrait behind her and how painfully similar this woman looked to Anastasia. The evening light shafted from a hole in a boarded up window, illuminating both the face of this woman and one of the most well known paintings of Anastasia.

“Excuse me, citizens, but you’re not-” Sasha started but Marcy held out an arm.

“Sash, do you see what I see?!” she whisper-shouted. Sasha paused, examining the people and the painting, then sucked in her breath as realization dawned on her.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered.

Marcy took a step forward then felt some weight on her foot. Looking down she saw a black kitten with white paws and a spot on its chest looking up at her with intuitive yellow eyes. 

“Hm, a cat,” she muttered, picking the kitten up.

“Are you Marcy?” the woman asked, shielding three people behind her.

“Cute,” Marcy said, then passed the kitten to Sasha who tried refusing but untimely ended up with a kitten in her arms, biting at her fingers and hair.

“Well, I guess that depends,” Marcy then said, putting on her well-practiced con-act, she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back. “Who’s looking for her?”

The woman relaxed slightly and let her hands fall to her side. “My name is Anne Plantar and this is my family,” she gestured to the people behind her. “And we need travel papers.”

Marcy walked up the stairs, Sasha walking up with her while holding the kitten who was swiping at Sasha’s bangs. 

“Someone told us you’re the person to see even,” a very lanky body with light ginger hair said.

“Though we can’t tell you who said that,” whispered a little girl with her ginger hair in pigtails, probably ten or eleven. She held a leash in her hand and on the other end was a three legged, one eyed puppy who sat obediently at her feet.

Marcy smiled and walked around the woman, taking in every detail. It was almost unnatural how similar this woman was to Anastasia. Sure she had more muscle mass and several dozen little scars scattered across her visible skin, a noticeable one on her forehead, partially hidden by her curly chestnut hair. But other than that it was astonishing.

“Hmm, hmmm,” she mumbled, only half listening to the two kids.

“Hey and why- why are you circling me? What were you a vulture in another life?” Anne said, quickly stepping away, closer to her family. The older man also seemed unnerved by Marcy, a deep scowl on his aged face.

“I’m sorry. Uh… Annie,” Marcy started.

“It’s Anne, Anne Plantar,” the woman corrected sternly.

“Anne,” Marcy amended. “It’s just- just that you look an awful lot like… well never mind. Now, you said something about travel papers?”

“Uh, yes, we’d like to go to Los Angeles,” said Anne.

“You’d like to go to Los Angeles?” Marcy echoed, her hopes rising. This was just too perfect.

“Mhmm,” Anne nodded, as did the three other people with her.

Marcy casted a glance at Sasha who winked at her. Sasha then went back to the kitten who seemed to take special interest in her. After gnawing on each one of her fingers, that is.

“Let me ask you something, Anne, was it?” Marcy asked, Anne nodded. “Is there a last name that goes with that?”

“Well as I said, I’m a Plantar,” Anne started, Marcy’s hopes deflating. “By adoption, though it still counts, and, well… I don’t actually know my birth last name. I was found wandering around  the forest when I was eight years old by Lillian Plantar, my adoptive mother.”

“And before that? Before you were eight?” Marcy urged as calmly as she could. However hope did seep in.

“Look, I know it’s strange to say but I don’t remember. I have very few memories of my early childhood. From eight and younger I just don’t know,” said Anne, shaking her head.

“My daughter found Anne one winter night twelve years ago,” the elderly man said.

Marcy smiled then leaned over to Sasha and whispered, “Hmm, that’s perfect.”

“But, I want to see if I can find my birth parents. And I do have one clue that is Los Angeles,” Anne said, playing with a necklace Marcy hadn’t noticed before. It looked rather expensive and she wondered how these people could have afforded it. They looked like farmers who, despite being the backbone of society, were relatively poor.

“Los Angeles,” Marcy echoed.

“Right. So, can you two help us or not?” asked Anne.

“Ah sure would like to,” Marcy said, digging into her coat pocket and pulling out the tickets she’d swiped. “In fact, oddly enough, we’re going to Los Angeles ourselves.”

“But, unfortunately we’re only offering our services for her, Anastasia,” she added, gesturing to the portrait behind them. The family turned around, the supposed Plantars gaping in awe.

“Oh,” Anne muttered. Marcy and Sasha then took Anne by the arms, guiding her up the stairs. The woman stumbled at the sudden movement and whipped her head between Marcy and Sasha.

“We are going to reunite the Grand Duchess Anastasia with her parents,” Sasha said.

“You do kind of resemble her, though,” Marcy said, planting the idea. Now it's time to water it so it’ll take root.

“The same brown eyes,” Sasha agreed.

“The Boonchuy eyes,” said Marcy.

“Bee’s smile,” observed Sasha.

“Oum's chin,” Marcy said, taking Anne’s face in her hand. The action startled her. Anne pulled her head away and ripped a hand free going to swat at Marcy. However, Sasha caught Anne’s arm and started examining her hand.

“Oh, look, she even has Queen Oum’s hands!” Sasha pointed out, Anne ripping her hand away and holding it close to her chest.

“You’re the same age, the same physical type,” Marcy listed.

“What, are you trying to tell me that you think I could be the lost princess Anastasia?” Anne laughed humorlessly. Marcy moved in front of Anne and stared her dead in the eyes.

“All I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve seen thousands of girls all over the country and not one of them looks as much like the Grand Duchess as you do. I mean look at the portrait,” Marcy said, gesturing to the wall. This one another, larger portrait of the royals decked out in even fancier regalia than the first.

“I knew you were crazy from the beginning, but now I think you’re both just mad,” Anne said, shaking her head. She pulled away from them and started walking back towards the Planars who slowly followed them up. The two children glared at Marcy and Sasha while the man watched Anne, his brows furrowed.

“Why?” Marcy asked, crossing her arms. “You don’t remember what happened to you.”

“No one knows what happened to her,” finished Sasha.

“You’re looking for family in Los Angeles,” Marcy continued.

“And her only family is in Los Angeles,” ended Sasha.

Anne stopped, her head bowed. Marcy smirked deviously.

“Ever thought about the possibility?” she asked.

“That I could be royalty?” Anne turned around to face them.

Marcy and Sasha nodding.

“Well I don’t know,” Anne scratched the back of her head and shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to think of yourself as a Duchess when you’re living in a basement, working on a farm, taking care of younger siblings, and trying to make ends meet. But sure, yeah, I guess nearly every girl would hope she’s a princess. It's just kinda a thing, like nearly every boy wants to be a knight, or prince.”

Anne walked back over to them and stared up at the painting. Her eyes lingered on the face of Anastasia. Marcy’s heart clenched; they looked uncannily similar. It was almost disturbing. But there was no way the real princess was still alive; she would’ve been found by then if she was. Andrias had his soldiers everywhere, and the Boonchuys had their reward money.

“Really wish we could help, but the ticket we have is for the Grand Duchess Anastasia,” Marcy said, backing up.

They walked past the Plantars who were on their way to Anne’s side. 

“Good luck, though,” Sasha said, the two turning around and leaving, but not before Sasha set the kitten down. Said kitten bolted to Anne where she rubbed herself against the woman’s ankles. They walked down the stairs, Sasha chuckling.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” she smirked.

“We’ll be on our way to Los Angeles in no time,” Marcy grinned.

Marcy then held up three of her fingers, counting down then pointing backwards.

“Marcy!” 

“Right in the palm of our hand,” Sasha murmured with satisfaction. 

“Marcy, wait!”

They both stopped and turned around. Anne came running down the stairs, the Plantars right behind her. The kitten Sasha had been holding was nestled sweetly in Anne's arm. Though, said kitten stared at them with wide yellow eyes that seemed to bore into their souls.

“Di-did you call me?” Marcy asked innocently.

“If I don’t remember who I am, then who’s to say I’m not a princess or a duchess or whatever she is… right?” Anne said; nervous and unsure. Like she’d been talked into this, rather than her own conscious decision.

“Hmm. Go on,” Marcy encouraged.

“Yeah, and if I’m not Anastasia, the Emperor and Empress will certainly know right away and it’s all just an honest mistake,” she continued.

“Sounds plausible,” agreed Sasha.

“But if you are the princess, then you’ll finally know who you are and have your family back,” said Marcy. “Either way, it gets you to Los Angeles. Then you can search for whatever you’re looking for if this turns out to be a flop.”

“Right!” Anne said with a smile.

She then stuck her hand out. A little taken aback, Marcy hesitantly grabbed it. Anne then squeezed Marcy’s hand tighter than she’d ever felt. Honestly Marcy thought all the bones in her hand were going to shatter. A firm shake almost made her topple over. Anne released Marcy’s hand, the ravenette clutching her bruised appendage.

“Ow,” Marcy responded, Sasha and the Plantars bursting out laughing.

“Anne, you forgot that we’re in the city,” the little girl said.

“Yeah, everyone’s fragile here,” chuckled the boy. “They can’t handle your bone-breaking shakes.”

“Whoops, sorry there,” Anne giggled. Marcy felt her heart shutter. That giggle was too pretty for her gay heart to handle. Light and airy, full of purity and life. Like gentle bells. Sasha was so fortunate; she was aromantic therefore didn’t have this issue. Meanwhile Marcy's heart had already taken flight.

“I-it's all good,” Marcy waved it off.

“Alright, if we want to get to Los Angeles we need to go now,” Sasha said.

“Plantars, we’re going to Los Angeles!” Anne smiled, her family cheering.

Chapter Text

“Tell me, Bog, what did this girl look like?” a deep voice drawled.

“Uh, she was a woman, sir! Probably 5’6, twenty years old, brown skin, curly reddish brown hair, brown eyes,” a man said from where he knelt.

“Did this woman look anything like her?” the owner of the deep voice stepped aside, revealing a portrait. The one he was referring to was a young girl; six years old. She sat in her mother’s lap and smiled brightly for the painter. As if being in the moment was the best time of her life.

“Yes sir! Almost exactly like her, but she had a small scar on the side of her head, and plenty more from just living,” answered the man called Bog.

“Hmm, it seems we’ve found her. At last,” the deep voice chuckled darkly.

“Sir?” Bog inquired.

“Bog, take a troop of your best soldiers. Return to this town and bring this woman to me, alive. If anyone gets in the way, kill them. I need to meet this town protector myself,” ordered the man.

“Yes, your highness,” Bog bowed, then left the room.

“Seems your pathetic attempts to hide from me will be fruitless,” the man said to the painting. “Soon, Anastasia, you will be mine and I will fulfill my promise to my father. I will avenge the family name, by taking away the one thing the Boonchuys love most. See you soon, my dear.”

*****

“Well? What have you to report?”

“The woman Bog said he was in the village has been spotted in the abandoned castle, sir. Our spy says she and five other people are boarding a train to Los Angeles. Two teens, an elder, and two women in their early twenties,” a woman said.

“WHAT?!” roared the man. He slammed his hand against the wall, tiny fractures creeping onto the stone. “Shut down the platform! Stop all trains at their next station! Find that woman and bring her to me alive!”

“Yes, your highness.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, why is your horse named Bastard?” Polly asked the blonde woman.

Anne looked away from the train window.

Everyone was in their large train car. After meeting Marcy and her colleague, Captain Sasha Waybright, they left for the train station. But not before Sasha took them to a stable where they left their wagon and boarded Bessie. While there they got to meet Marcy’s horse; a quarter horse stallion named Joe Sparrow, and Sasha’s silver-dappled gray gelding apparently named Bastard of all things.

Sasha shrugged. “When we first met he didn’t have a name and was still intact. So he acted like a bastard therefore I called him a bastard. Unfortunately he started responding to it so it was too late to turn back. So he’s named Bastard. But, to be fair, he did act like a lil shit when he was intact.”

“Weird,” mumbled Sprig.

“I love it!” grinned Polly.

“Thanks,” Sasha chuckled. “Glad someone finally has a sense of humor.”

Anne slumped farther into her seat. She had her reservations about Marcy and Sasha. They seemed shifty, and deceitful. And she was certain they weren’t telling her everything. But to be fair, she was using them too. She just needed to get to Los Angeles with her family. Then they could start their search, on their own. Like Anne believed that she was the Duchess Anastasia, she only agreed because Sprig and Polly convinced her it was easier than getting their own passports. It was all just some coincidence that they looked similar— like a doppelgänger. There was no way she was royalty; she’s just an orphaned farmer girl who lucky out in finding a family.

She found herself fiddling with the key again. A nervous tick she’d picked up after the Plantars found her. The smooth metal calmed her and the sensation grounded her in reality. Her thumb brushed the engraved words while the other rubbed the three different colored gems. It was her favorite stim toy.

“Stop fiddling with that thing. And sit up straight —remember— you’re a Grand Duchess. Start acting like it,” Marcy, who’d been seated next to her, said.

Anne eyed her but dropped the key and pushed herself up. 

“How is it that you know what Grand Duchesses do or don’t do?” Anne asked, looking at Marcy out of the corner of her eye. “Are you some sort of royal stalker?”

“I make it my business to know,” Marcy answered, Sprig crossing his arms as did Hop Pop. Neither liked the idea of trusting these two, but had been their best shot. From her seat beside Polly, Sasha merely rolled her eyes. Seems even she got annoyed by Marcy on occasion.

“Oh,” she muttered.

“Look Anne, I’m just trying to help. Alright?” Marcy added quickly.

Anne shook her head and sighed. Then looked up at Marcy with big, innocent eyes. Polly hid a snicker; she knew what was coming. This happened all too often to Hop Pop, or even Sprig. A move both girls knew.

“Marcy?” she said.

“Mm hmm?” nodded Marcy.

“Do you really think I’m royalty?” Anne asked softly, feigning innocence and hope.

“You know I do,” agreed Marcy, though it sounded bland; lacking any conviction. She was just saying anything to get on Anne’s good side.

Anne then dropped the facade, locked eyes with Marcy, staring her dead in the soul. So much so Marcy wasn't able to look away, but her eyes widened. Much to Anne’s satisfaction.

“Then stop bossing me around!” Anne hissed and resumed her stare out the window.

She heard her family snicker and giggle. Anne had always been stubborn. Stubborn and clever in some cases.

“Well, she certainly has a mind of her own,” said Sasha with a catty smirk.

“Yeah? It’s annoying,” huffed Marcy. Anne whipped her head around to stick her tongue out at Marcy then turned away before she saw. The only hint was the poorly concealed laughter from those in attendance.

“Well, I think I’m going to see the rest of the train, haven’t ever been on one of these contraptions,” Hop Pop then said, standing up and stretching his old limbs. “Anyone wanna come?”

“I will!” Polly said. She set Frobot down on the seat. Thankfully Domino was curled up in Anne’s lap so the puppy wouldn’t be chasing her around the car. Instead, Frobo just curled up on the cushion Polly had vacated and soon fell asleep.

“I’m gonna go to the dining car,” Sprig said.

“I’ll come too. I haven’t had much to eat in a while,” Sasha stood up.

Everyone left, leaving Marcy and Anne alone in the car. For well over thirty minutes they sat in silence. Anne spent her time watching the train go by, seeing the colors wizz by along with the occasional town they’d pass.  Meanwhile Marcy had pulled out a book, reading over the pages with speed and ease. After five minutes, though, Marcy placed a bookmark on her page then set it down beside her.

“Look, Anne, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Marcy sighed. Anne glanced over at her. Marcy seemed tired, weary even. The girl couldn’t be much older than Anne yet she looked so tired. So, Anne decided to throw her a bone.

“I think we did too. I’m sorry, it's just that these past few days have been hard. We had to run from our only home and now we’re traveling to Los Angeles on the slim, barely feasible chance that I might actually be royalty and not just Anne Plantar; a friendly farmer,” Anne said.

“No, no, I get it. This is a huge change, and I immediately held you to expectations you don’t know. It's all good,” said Marcy with a lopsided smile, one that held regret. Anne smiled back.

“Do you think you’ll miss it?” Anne asked.

“Miss what? Our constant arguing?” Marcy tilted her head. Anne chuckled.

“No silly. Newtopia. That was your home, right?” said Anne.

Marcy noticeably deflated. Her former smile dropped to a frown. She looked away, focusing on anything that wasn’t Anne. Eventually her eyes fell to the other carseat and she defensively crossed her arms over her chest.

“It wasn’t so much a home. More like a prison,” she huffed.

“Oh… how so?” Anne asked.

“Look, Anne, my parents abandoned me when I was three. I was lucky enough to be picked up by the castle where they gave me food, a job and a warm place to stay, but once Andrias took over I lost everything. Again. So forgive me if I’m not weeping because I’m leaving that awful place,” hissed Marcy, turning away from her.

“Oh… I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been orphaned twice,” Anne offered.

“What? Didn’t you say the Plantars adopted you?” Marcy sat up straighter and returned her gaze to Anne.

“Yeah, they did. Lillian and Huck Plantar adopted me when I was eight after they found me wandering in the woods. But five years later, they were murdered in a bandit attack. Hop Pop was gone for the week, on another trip to Newtopia. My parents locked me, Sprig, and Polly in the basement so we’d be safe; they were planning to kidnap children to sell into slavery. The last thing my mom said to me was to protect Sprig and Polly,” Anne ran her fingers over the key again.

It was hard remembering the Plantar parents. They had been so kind and never deserved their fate. But Anne spent every day trying to fulfill the last task her mother gave her. But it was hard, sometimes, being so young herself with so much responsibility placed on her. Not to mention her siblings were crazy; always in trouble, or mischief. If she’d been younger she’d join them, but responsibility was a heavy burden that left little time for tomfoolery.

“That- that's horrible,” Marcy was wide eyed. “I thought your parents were just at home. That your grandfather had taken you three on a family-bonding type trip. I never thought…”

“It’s okay, Marcy. That stuff happened seven years ago. We’ve dealt with it,” Anne waved off. “So what do you plan to do once we get to Los Angeles and we meet the Emperor and Empress?”

“Oh, well Sasha has family there. And I dunno. I kinda thought I’d just travel the world. Hop around until one place feels right,” Marcy said.

Anne hummed in response. Then the door slid open and Sasha returned. Her eyes flickered between the two and Anne saw a smirk form. Why, she didn’t know. Sasha was a weird, secretive woman so she learned.

“Where’s Sprig?” Anne asked.

“Still in the dining car. You might want to get him before he eats the whole buffet,” Sasha answered.

Anne stood up and passed Domino to Sasha. The kitten had taken a liking to the blonde and Anne was not one to deprive her of attention. And the endless affection Sasha showered her kitty with.

“I’ll get him,” Anne said. She then left the car and followed the signs on the wall.

Chapter Text

“So… you and Anne huh?” Sasha purred, playing with the kitten in her arms.

“Hmm?” Marcy raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps… an unspoken attraction,” Sasha hinted, Marcy feeling her cheeks heat up.

“What?! No! We were just being friendly and getting to know each other!” Marcy insisted.

“I only asked a simple question, Mar-Mar. Why so defensive?” Sasha cooed. “Is it that little ‘infatuation’ you had with Anastasia? Does this Anne remind you of her?”

“Just stop!” Marcy whined in annoyance as she was still blushing. She was really glad everyone else was gone and it was just her, Sasha, a cat and a dog. “Look we’re just going to Los Angeles, have Anne pretend to be Anastasia, collect our money, then we’re outta there.”

“Don’t forget; we have to teach Anne how to be the Grand Duchess if we’re actually going to pull this off,” said Sasha. “And by the looks of it, we have our work cut out for us.”

“Water under the bridge. We have three days on this train, we’ll be fine,” Marcy shrugged off.

“I hope you’re right this time, Marcy,” Sasha said.

“Hey, this plan is going great! We’ve left Newtopia and it's only a four day trip to Los Angeles. This is the farthest we’ve gotten,” Marcy pointed out.

“Mhm. What do you think is taking them all so long?” Sasha asked.

Just as she said that the door burst open. Four people rushed in, panting and out of breath.

“We need to get off at the next stop!” Hop Pop shouted, panting.

“What?! Why?!” Sasha yelped.

“Soldiers! Andrias’ soldiers! They're searching every train! They're looking for Anne,” Sprig cried. Polly raced in and grabbed the puppy from the seat and shoved him in her coat. Anne was fumbling to get their very minimal amounts of luggage and passed it to her awaiting family members.

“What?! Why are the king’s guards looking for her?” Marcy leaped up.

“Does it matter?” shouted Polly. “If they find her she’ll be caught, taken to the king and killed!”

“I’m not losing another family member,” growled Hop Pop. “Next stop we’re sneaking off. If you two want to come, fine. If not, don't you dare tell them where we are.”

“Oh we’re coming,” Sasha said, standing up. “I know a way to slip out without them spotting us. We’ll walk to a different town then find a wagon or bus from there.”

Then there was a ping from the radio. The speakers overhead crackled to life.

“Attention, passengers. We will be arriving at Temple Run in T minus 10 minutes. However, when we arrive at the station Amphibian soldiers from the capital will be brought on board in search of a wanted individual, fugitive to the crown. Make sure to have your visas and tickets out and ready when we arrive,” the conductor said.

“Come on, to the baggage car. Once we stop we’ll hop off and slip away,” Marcy suggested, shouldering her own bag carrying the few things she actually owned.

The group started filing out when Marcy stopped. She grabbed Anne by the wrist and pulled her back into the security of their cart.

“Anne, trade coats with me,” she said. “That way you'll be harder to detect.”

Both women removed off their coats and traded. Marcy pulled on Anne's then returned her bag to her shoulder. They then followed everyone to the baggage car which was only a few carts down. Anne made sure to keep her face hidden as they walked, her eyes trained on the floor and head bowed. If anyone saw them Marcy made a gesture indicating she was sickly therefore didn’t want to spread the illness. That fooled enough people for them to make it safely to the baggage car.

“Alright. We’ll be fine here,” Sasha said, setting her things down by her feet.

“Now, care to explain why the king wants you, Anne?” Marcy asked, sitting on a large suitcase.

“Cause she started an uprising in our town,” Polly said.

“There was a group of six Newtopian soldiers who showed up and pretty much crashed wherever they wanted. Forced their way into everyone’s homes. We put up with them for a few days, but after a while Anne told them to leave,” the elderly man, Hopediah Plantar, explained.

“They didn’t like that,” said Sprig. “So they broke her arm using a club covered in spikes”

“Oh my god,” Sasha gasped.

“Yeah, it was a pretty nasty wound,” Anne pulled down the sleeve of Marcy’s coat and showed them the damage. While faded, Marcy saw dozens of small, but thick puncture scars all over the top on her forearm.

“But it rallied everyone together and we gave them the boot!” grinned Polly. “Too bad they came back. That's why we had to run away from our town. They were heading there first for her.”

“Well, we’ll be on our way. If we stay away from major towns and stick to back roads no one will find us. Granted it might take a bit longer,” said Sasha.

“That’s alright. So long as we’re safe, that’s all that matters,” Sprig said with the wave of his hand.

Chapter Text

“We’ve searched every train in Amphibia, your majesty. There was no sign of the woman.”

The man roared with anger. He slammed his fist against the wall, even more cracks crawling along the stone and marble.

“How? How did she worm her way past my soldiers?!” he shouted, the woman below him merely shrugging. Wise enough to say nothing else.

“We have had a report, sir,” she then said. “Scouts spotted a troop of six people, a dog, and a cat making their way to the country’s border by wagon. They’re half a day’s trek, according to their report.”

“WHAT?!” thundered the man. “General, if this girl gets past the border then that’ll make it ten times harder to get her back! It’ll become an international affair rather than internal unrest. Now, order all the troops to converge on her last known location. Lock down all passage between the countries. This girl can not leave Amphibia!”

“Yes, sir,” the woman bowed and then left.

The man leaned back on his throne with a heavy sign. He ran a hand over his eyes then glared at the tapestry hanging to his right.

“You’re a sneaky one, I’ll give you that, little princess,” he hissed. “But mark my words; I will see your death and fulfill my promise to your mother. One way or another.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, I’m guessing we have to walk to Los Angeles,” sighed Polly.

“No, we’ll catch a boat in a city called York. It’s the first major city outside Amphibia, just a few miles from the border. The boat will take us around the continent, about a week’s long journey,” said Sasha.

“Then we’re walking to York?” Anne asked.

“No, your highness,” Marcy teased. “We’re taking a bus.”

“A bus sounds mighty nice,” Hop Pop said with a wistful sigh.

“Hop Pop, we’re not actually taking a bus. Marcy was being sarcastic,” Sprig said.

“Dang it,” huffed Hop Pop.

“Actually, if we can make it to the border I’m sure we can find a bus that’ll get us to port,” Sasha corrected.

“Awesome,” Polly said, Frobo barking at her side. 

Domino was in Anne’s arms, but throughout their walk she’d been bouncing between Anne and Sasha. The little kitten had taken a liking to both of them. Probably because of their long hair; it was fun to play with. But most of the trip she’d stayed with Anne, having formed some sort of connection over the past three days.

After several miles and hours of walking, the group stopped next to a river with a wooden bridge going over it. They set down their luggage, which was really just a bag per person since they traveled light. Hop Pop huffed as he sat down, Polly flopping right next to him while Sprig stretched his back. Sasha sat down on a rock while Anne and Marcy sat next to each other in the grass.

“So Sasha,” Anne started. “Marcy said you have family in Los Angeles. Who might this family be?”

“Oh, my dad. Former captain in the Amphibian military. Five years ago he got in some deep shit so Marcy and I snuck him out to Los Angeles. He’s close to the Emperor and Empress, and Lady Olivia. He’ll be able to help us get an audience with the lady,” explained Sasha.

Marcy’s head shot up. Sasha glanced over at her, but one look at Marcy’s glare made her freeze.

“But I thought we were going to see the Empress and Emperor themselves. Why are we going to see this Lady?” Anne asked, Marcy averting her eyes.

“Marcy?” Anne said warningly, the black haired woman glancing at Anne.

“Oh, Marcy did tell you?” Sasha smirked, Marcy really fighting the urge to flip her off for a change.

“Well,  you see, nobody gets near the Emperor and Empress without convincing Olivia first,” said Marcy, wincing as Anne's eyes widened. She rose to her feet and stepped back.

“Oh no, not me, no!” Anne shouted, starting to pace around, pulling at her hair in attempts to calm her rising fear. Marcy jumped up too only for Anne to turn on her. “Nobody ever told me I had to prove I was the Grand Duchess!”

Marcy raised her hands in surrender, trying to deescalate the situation. Anne was pulling at her hair, eye twitching as she glared at Marcy.

“Show up: yes. Look nice: fine. But lie?” yelled Anne, throwing her hands up.

“You don’t know it’s a lie. What if it’s true?” Marcy defended only for Anne to groan. Sighing, Marcy took one of Anne's hands to keep her from face-planting into the dirt.

“Okay, so there’s one more stop on the road to finding out who you are. I just thought this was something you had to see through to the end no matter what,” she said. Anne stared at her like she’d gone insane and pulled her hand away.

“But look at me, Marcy!” Anne gestured to herself; messy hair full of sticks and leaves, hand-me-down work clothes, and Marcy’s torn-up coat she’d yet to take off. “I am not exactly Grand Duchess material here! I have the attention span of a pebble and the intelligence of a brick!”

“Hey now, Anne,” Hop Pop cut in. “You’re plenty smart. You just need a different type of learning environment than others.”

“Yeah, Anne!” Sprig agreed. “You’re smart in the ways that matter.”

“Hop Pop this is more than just school! This is trying to convince a lady who knows so much more than I ever will!” Anne retorted, falling backwards and laying in the dirt in a starfish position. A pouty scowl was prominent on her face.

“Anne, I’m going to be honest with you,” Sasha said, standing up and waltzing over. “When we first met I wasn’t so sure about you. I thought you were just another country bumpkin just coming into the city for some sight-seeing.”

“Thanks, Sasha. I feel all better now,” groaned Anne, throwing an arm over her eyes.

Sasha chuckled and crouched down next to Anne.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she smirked. “Now I see an engaging and fiery young woman, who on a number of occasions has shown a regal command equal to any royal in the world. And I have known my share of royalty.”

“Really?” Polly asked, Hop Pop shushing her.

“Really. When I was eight I met the whole Boonchuy family, including Anastasia. She taught me how to dance. And my dad wasn’t just a captain, you know. He’d been a member of the Imperial Court,” Sasha said with a smile, the Plantars gasping. Anne slowly peeled her arm away from over her eyes.

“If anyone can shape you into the Grand Duchess Anastasia, I can. And don’t discount Marcy either. She may be slow and lacks social knowledge, but she worked with the Boonchuy family for years and she's read all there is to them,” insisted Sasha, prodding Anne’s shoulder.

“So, are you ready to become the Grand Duchess Anastasia?” Marcy asked, laying down next to Anne, but on her side rather than back.

Anne just groaned again and replaced her arm over her face. Though she tilted her face away from Marcy indignantly. Sasha glared at Marcy who stuck her tongue out at her.

“Look Anne, you have two choices in front of you,” Sasha sighed. “You either continue on this journey to Los Angeles, or you go back to Amphibia where you’ll be caught, thrown in prison, then executed at the gallows. But by all means; the choice is yours.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Anne took a deep, heavy sigh and removed her arm.

“Ladies, start your teaching,” she said, pushing herself up.

Chapter Text

It took two days to get to York. During that time Anne was taught everything there was to know about the Boonchuy family and Duchess Anastasia.

She was given lessons on how to walk, how to stand, how to eat, how to talk, how to do everything . The names of all the royal family still rang in her head from their history lesson. Anne even had to learn horseback riding, of which she already knew and excelled at, and bike riding which was shakier but she got the hang of that too. But by the time they crossed the border and made it to York Anne felt like she was doing great. Maybe not perfect, but it was a good start, and they still had a whole week to truly nail it all in.

They’d walked to the border and had little trouble getting across since Sasha knew a secret place to cross. Then they hopped on a bus and spent six hours going over even more information on the ride. Sasha had been right; she and Marcy knew a shockingly large amount about the royal family and Anastasia herself.

On the massive ship they got to their rooms, there being two of them; one for the Plantars and one for the girls. Anne loved her family, but they snored and insisted on keeping their room boiling at night because they were so used to the humidity. Of which made Anne feel like she was drowning in syrup and her hair spiked up in insane ways. So Anne stayed with Sasha and Marcy which wasn’t much of an issue.

She’d just finished setting her stuff down and feeding Domino when Marcy approached her from the door. Something was very obviously hidden behind her back.

“Here. I bought you a dress,” she said, holding out the ‘dress’.

Anne’s eyes widened and she chuckled in disbelief. Taking it from Marcy and holding it up in front of her, Anne laughed again.

“You bought me a tent,” she said, poking her head inside the skirt. Marcy then popped her head in through the neck hole.

“What’re you looking for?” she asked with an adorable dorky smile.

“The Amphibian Circus. I think it’s still in here,” laughed Anne.

Marcy giggled and rolled her eyes affectionately. They both extracted their heads from the dress and looked at each other.

“Just try it on,” she encouraged, handing Anne the dress then left, closing the door behind her, so she could change in peace.

Now that Anne wasn’t gawking at it, she looked closer at the dress. It was simple really; swamp green skirt with a white shirt part and brown vest tied together with thick brown string. Anne slipped out of her old, well-loved outfit and put the new one on. The dress even came with brown, slip-on shoes. Looking at herself in the mirror, Anne smiled. The dress went down to her ankles, and sleeves were up to her elbows. She did a little spin, the skirt flying up.

“What do you think, Domino?” Anne asked, picking up the kitten. “Do I look like Grand Duchess Anastasia to you?”

Domino merely meowed and swiped at one of Anne’s curls, previously freed from the ponytail she’d kept them in. Anne laughed and gave the kitten some scratches under the chin and between her ears.

“Why thank you, m’lady,” Anne teased, the kitten meowing again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the upper deck, the Plantars, Sasha, and Marcy gathered. Sasha was with the Plantar kids at the railing as they watched the water below, while Hop Pop and Marcy were playing a game of Flip Wart on deck. However, Marcy was noticeably distracted, a pensive look on her face. So much so she didn’t bat an eye when Hop Pop moved his Wart and finished the game.

“Checkmate,” he said, but Marcy didn’t hear him.

A small cough drew their attention away from the board. Anne walked over and oh Marcy’s poor gay heart was going to explode. The dress looked truly beautiful on her, capturing her form and built perfectly. The green brought out her complexion and contrasted nicely with her skin and hair. And her upper portions of hair had been put up in a bun, with the rest freed and spilling over her shoulders and down her back.

“Dang Anne! You clean up nicely!” Polly said, running over.

“Thanks,” Anne smiled.

“Mar-Mar, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies,” Sasha whispered into Marcy’s ear then clamped her jaw shut. Marcy blushed and furiously swatted Sasha’s hand away.

“You looked great, Anne!” Sasha then said. “And now that you're dressed for a ball, you will learn to dance for one as well. Marcy.”

Sasha grabbed Marcy’s arm and pushed her over to Anne. Sprig got a record player and picked a slow dance instrumental disk. Anne held out her arms to dance. Marcy blushed even more and awkwardly positioned herself to dance with her. One arm held Anne’s hand while the other was carefully set on Anne’s waist and Anne put her other hand on Marcy’s shoulder. Sasha counted off them into the waltz and then stepped back to watch with the Plantars.

“That dress is really beautiful,” Marcy said, trying to start up a small conversation so they’d be less awkward.

“Do you think so?” Anne asked.

“Yes. I mean it was nice on the hanger but it looks even better on you,” said Marcy, blushing as she stuttered more. “Yo- you should wear it.”

Anne giggled, her cheeks rosy in the setting sunlight. “I am wearing it.”

“Oh, right, of course, of course, you are. It’d be pretty weird if you weren’t. I’m just trying to give you a-” Marcy stammered, just a blushing mess at this point.

“Compliment?” Anne supplied with a smile.

“Yes, that. Of course, yes,” Marcy nodded.

They danced together, swaying in rhythm with the slow cadence of the instrumental music. Marcy led them through the moves; spinning and twirling together as they danced the evening away into the early night.

“I’m feeling a little dizzy,” Anne said after several minutes.

“Kind of light headed?” asked Marcy.

Anne nodded and made a small noise of agreement. 

“Me too. Probably from the spinning,” chuckled Marcy.

Without realizing it, they'd stopped dancing. Yet neither moved apart. They just stood together, waiting. Waiting for what neither knew. Perhaps something to help make sense of it all, all their swirling emotions suddenly brought forth by a simple dance.

“Maybe we should stop,” said Marcy after a moment.

“We have stopped,” Anne pointed out. 

“O-oh. Right,” Marcy chucked again.

“Anne I-” she started, but the words got caught in her throat. And what was she going to say? ‘Anne, even though we’ve only known each other for five days I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone.’ No, there was no room for feelings in this arrangement. It was simple; get in, present their girl, get out with the money.

“Yes?” Anne asked, looking at Marcy with those big, brown eyes guided by long, beautifully curled eyelashes. Like a little fawn’s eyes, so big, pure, and full of innocence and trust. Marcy’s heart leaped from her chest to her throat and she forgot how to breathe for a second.

“U-h. Y-you’re doing great,” she stuttered, patting Anne’s shoulder and stepping back.

“Oh,” Anne looked down and away from Marcy. The last action Marcy wanted because then she couldn’t see her beautiful face. “Thanks.”

“Anne, that was amazing!” 

Marcy backed away as Sprig and Polly came running over and hugged Anne’s waist. Hop Pop sauntered over and patted his granddaughter’s shoulder with a chuckle. Marcy watched, feeling her heart yearn for that sensation again. That warmth she felt whenever her and Anne were together, mere inches apart just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Just business, huh?” Sasha whispered in Marcy’s ear. “Don’t lie to yourself anymore, Marce. You’re in love and you have it bad.”

Marcy sighed. “I’m so utterly, hopelessly in love.”

Chapter Text

They soon retired for the night. Anne said goodnight to the Plantars who were only next door. Marcy, Sasha, and Anne went to their room and Marcy promptly passed out on a pallet they’d made on the floor. Anne had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders with Domino sitting in her lap. Sasha was braced against the ship’s beams, not weathering the storm well. Her pale face had a green tinge and her eyebrows were furrowed.

“Oh, uh, are you all right?” Anne whispered to Sasha. Sasha waved her hand, bringing the other over her mouth.

“Fine, fine. Just never been a big fan of boats,” she groaned, leaning against the bedpost. She heaved and Anne got ready to grab a bucket or bag, but Sasha shook her head and waved a hand. “Good! I’m all good! Just a little queasy.”

“Well, if you insist,” Anne said with uncertainty in her voice. Sasha gave her a weak, strained smile.

“Look at her,” Sasha then gestured to Marcy who was sound asleep, soft little snores coming from her. “She can sleep through anything. I swear, the moon could crash into us and she’d still sleep like the dead.”

The ship tilted, timbers and walls groaning against the sea. Domino leaped from Anne’s lap and pranced over to Marcy’s bag that the woman was using as a pillow. She slipped inside with ease, knocking it over even more and a small, palm-sized metal box tumbled out. It slid across the floor with the ship’s movements and stopped near Anne. Curious, she picked up the box and inspected it carefully. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t quite place it. Even so, Anne cradled the box gently in her palms.

“Pretty jewelry box, isn’t it?” Sasha said from where she braced herself.

“Jewelry box?” Anne echoed. “Are you sure that’s what it is?”

Sasha shrugged. “What else could it be?”

“I’m not sure. But I feel like it's something else. Something special. Maybe something to do with a secret,” Anne furrowed her eyebrows, running her fingers over the crafted metal. She then squeaked in surprise as Domino jumped back into her lap, little claws digging through her nightgown into her legs. Both Anne and Sasha chuckled, Anne looking over at Sasha.

“Is that possible?” she asked. Sasha shrugged once again as she climbed the ladder up to her bunk over Anne’s.

“Who knows. Seems anything’s possible. After all, you taught Marcy how to waltz, didn’t you?” Sasha said on her way up.

Anne hummed, taking one last look at the box before setting it back down. She then laid back on the bed, pulling the covers over herself. Domino scampered over and curled up next to Anne, purring in utter bliss.

“Sleep well, your majesty,” Sasha murmured from above, Anne snickering.

“Night,” she called up to Sasha. Then she stroked Domino’s back, the little kitten purring in her ear.

“Sweet dreams, Domino,” Anne whispered to the kitten.

She then drifted off to sleep, the sounds of the ship and rocking from the waves lulling her off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anastasia ran through the garden. Her laughter and giggles carried through the colorful and blooming plants as she chased butterflies and dragonflies from flower to flower. They fluttered and buzzed about, some accidentally flying into Anastasia's face causing her to fall into fits of giggles.

“Anastasia!” her mom called from the outdoor dining area. Both her parents were there watching her. Her mom had been doing most of the watching her while her dad was working on a new puzzle he’d found, the one with over 1000 pieces.

“Mama! Mama! Do you see the butterflies?!” Anastasia cried, dashing over to her parents.

“Yes I do see, dragonfly. They're so colorful,” her mom smiled, crouching down to catch the six year old girl. Anastasia threw herself into her mom’s arms, Oum picking her daughter up with practiced ease.

“Yes! They’re pretty like you, mama!” Anastasia grinned, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck and resting her head on her shoulder.

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” chuckled Oum, brushing some hair out of her daughter’s face.

“She’s right though,” Bee called. Oum rolled her eyes a blew a breath from her mouth, causing Anastasia to giggle.

“Mama, how did you meet dad?” Anastasia asked.

“Oh, well dear, your dad and I met when we were just about eighteen. I was going out to the city for some time away from the castle. At the time, your dad was working at a cafe,” explained Oum, walking back over to her husband.

“I accidentally spilled tea all over your mom,” Bee sheepishly chuckled. “I thought I was going to be thrown in prison. But, I guess spilling tea on the queen is how you become the king yourself.”

“Well, you were the expectation, dear,” 

“Dad, how much do you love mom?” asked Anastasia, her parents sharing glances.

“Well, dragonfly, we love your mom very much,” said Bee, then he chuckled. “She’s the one keeping everyone in line.”

Oum snorted and rolled her eyes once again. But Bee just rested his chin on his hands and smiled at his wife. A dopey smile she knew all too well. It was one of the many reasons she fell in love with the dork in front of her.

“Mama, dad, do you think I will ever find someone to love as much as dad loves mom?” Anastasia stared up at her parents with brown eyes shining with curiosity.

Her parents smiled, Bee getting up from his chair and walking over. He knelt next to Oum who’d since taken a seat on the opposite end of the small round table.

“I sure hope you do, dragonfly,” Oum said, cupping one of Anastasia’s round cheeks in her hands.

“But even if you don’t, we’ll always be here to love you too,” Bee said.

“Really? You’re never going to leave?” gasped Anastasia.

“Well, dear, sometime we might leave,” Oum said. “But no matter how long it may be, we’ll always come back for you.”

Oum kissed Anastasia’s forehead, the girl giggling and snuggling up to her mom. She reached her other hand and grabbed a finger of her dad’s much larger hand.

“Mama, dad I love you,” she whispered softly.

“We love you too, dragonfly,” murmured Bee.

“And we always will,” said Oum, bruising some of Anastasia’s hair out of her face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anne sat bolt upright. 

“Mom?! Dad?!” she gasped, choking as tears threatened to spill.

She looked around wildly, trying to find her parents. Her- her parents. Anne stalled. Who were those people? They looked just like the adults in the painting, but Anne had called them, ‘mama and dad’. Or, who she assumed was herself. It felt like her.

Everything was so confusing. Anne choked on a sob, hands moving to her head where she grabbed handfuls of her hair and pulled. The pain barely registered; she was spiraling too fast. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were closing along with her throat. Her eyes burned. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Then warmth. She felt something warm hugging her. For a fleeting second she thought it was her mom, but then she saw the black hair and it registered that this was Marcy. Who she probably woke up with her crying.

“Breathe with me, Anne,” Marcy whispered. “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”

Anne followed the instructions. It was hard, at first. She kept gasping for breath. But each time Marcy helped her, and encouraged her to keep going. After several minutes Anne got her breathing under control. Wiping away the tears, Anne looked up at Marcy.

“Nightmare?” she asked in a whisper.

“N-no. I’m not sure what it was,” murmured Anne.

“Well, you’re okay now, right?” Marcy said, taking Anne’s hands in her own.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was just a dream,” Anne smiled softly, enjoying the feeling of Marcy’s thumbs rubbing her knuckles. It was calming. Marcy was calming. All she really wanted to do was curl up in Marcy’s chest, fall asleep in her warm embrace. 

And she was too tired to question why. She just knew she liked the feeling of Marcy being around her.

Chapter Text

In Los Angeles, nestled in a wealthy yet lovely part of the city, the former rulers of Amphibia sat in their parlor. Their home granted to them by Mr. X, who still reigned as prime minister of the country. A young woman was before them attempting to convince them that she was their daughter. The Boonchuys sat on the couch next to each other, a small table off to the side were floral china set with tea at the ready for them.

“Ah yes, I remember so well. Uncle Yashin was from Ribbitvale,” the woman said.

Standing near the entryway was another woman. She had rich, brown skin and bluish-black hair with some held in a small bun on her head while the rest waterfall down her back and shoulders. A signature style for her. Her eyes were a brilliant brown with small traces of hazel within them. She wore a white lace dress that complemented her complexion nicely, the sleeves falling off the shoulders and the skirt going down to her knees.

“Uncle Boris was from Odessa,” the woman continued. The lady watching had her eyes flickering back and forth between her and the couple. “And every spring-”

“We would take picnics by the shore on Sundays,” Oum interrupted with a heavy sigh. “Whenever I had to leave for business, Bee would take Anastasia star gazing to take her mind off my absence. She’d come up with her own constellations and even named many after us, her family members.”

“Honestly, haven’t you anything better to do?” sighed Bee, putting his face in his hands.

“Oh, oh dear,” the woman in the white dress hurried forward, grabbing the girl by the arm and dragging her away. “Your audience with the Emperor and Empress is over. Good-bye.”

The woman pushed the girl out the door without a moment to complete or get a word in then closed it. With a sigh she reentered the parlor.

“No more. Please, no more,” whispered Oum, sadly shaking her head. Bee wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled his wife close.

“Oh, I must say, your majesties, I’m so terribly sorry. I thought for certain that was the real Anastasia. But it seems I was unfortunately wrong. Again,” the woman said, taking a seat at the table. She gestured to the picture they had; a framed portrait of Anastasia smiling so sweetly at them

“I-it's not your fault, Olivia,” Bee sighed, rubbing his hand up and down Oum's back as the woman stared blankly at the couch cushion. Despondently even, as if she’d lost all hope in life.

“No! I won’t be fooled next time! I swear on my life to think of questions only the true princess would know. Not just ones found in history books,” insisted Olivia, firmly and with vigor, but Oum sat up and held up a hand.

“No,” she said sternly. “My heart can’t take it anymore. I will see no more girls claiming to be Anastasia.”

“You’re majesty?” Olivia gasped.

“It’s just too painful,” whispered Oum, Bee pressing a kiss to her temple.

Olivia sighed sadly. She then stood up and bowed to her rulers. They may no longer live in their castle nor country, but her loyalty to them never waned.

“As you wish, my queen.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anne, Marcy, and Sasha walked down the road. The Plantars left them to purchase rooms in a nearby inn and promised to meet up once done. Anne fiddled nervously with her key, continuously rubbing her fingers over the metal.

“How’re you feeling, Anne?” Marcy asked as they turned into the sidewalk leading to a white house.

“Well, ten days ago I didn’t have any past at all and now I’m trying to remember an entire childhood ,” said Anne.

Marcy laughed. “That’s why you’ve got me.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and knocked on the door. It opened, revealing an older man probably close to Hop Pop’s age. Anne felt like she knew him from somewhere. A book, or maybe in passing. He just looked uncannily familiar. However the thought was banished when the man gasped.

“Sasha?”

“Hey dad,” Sasha said with her wolfish smile. “Thought you could get away from me?”

“Sasha!” that smirk gave way as the two embraced. Anne and Marcy watched the father and daughter reunite. After five or so years apart. They smiled and waited patiently for their hug to cease.

“Come in, Sasha! Bring your friends! This is a momentous occasion!” the man gestured to the entrance. Everyone walked in, Anne nodding to the man who smiled, but did a double take upon seeing her.

They walked down a hall to a paper room; a cushioned couch and two armchairs set up with a small table in front of them. Two women sat on the couch, both having rich brown skin, but one had long bluish-black hair kept in both a bun and flowing down her shoulders while the other had short, clean cut, cream-blonde hair. They had been drinking tea and talking, but it seems their arrival made them pause. Both women looked up upon their entrance, Anne being sure to walk with grace and regal poise; just like she’d been taught.

“Lady Olivia, General Yunan,” the man introduced, gesturing to each woman. “And I’m former captain Grime Waybright.”

“Sasha,” the woman now named Yunan said. “It’s so good to see you’re okay. Your father’s been worried these past several years.”

“Yes, it's nice to see you all,” Sasha chuckled. “But Lady Olivia, may I present; her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Anastasia Boonchuy!”

Olivia looked at Anne and her eyes widened. She set her tea cup down and sat taller.

“Oh my heavens,” Olivia murmured. She gestured to an armchair and Anne took a seat. Sasha stood by her father while Marcy leaned against the fireplace behind Anne. “You certainly do look like Anastasia. But then again, so did many of the others.”

Olivia shifted, turning on the couch to better see Anne. Yunan watched too, but she snaked an arm around Olivia’s shoulders and pulled her close. Looking closer, Anne couldn’t find any wedding bands on their fingers, though they both wore matching choker-style necklaces.

“Alright, where were you born?” asked Olivia, resting her elbows on her knee and chin in her palms.

“The Boonchuy Palace,” Anne answered.

“Correct,” Olivia said before asking her next question. “And how does Anastasia like her tea?”

Anne shrugged. “I don’t like tea, just hot water and lemon.”

And she wasn’t lying. Tea had never been her favorite drink, despite Sprig literally having a girlfriend whose mother owned a tea shop.

Olivia nodded. “Good.”

For the next hour Olivia asked Anne questions. And everytime Anne answered them seemingly correctly. Olivia never said otherwise. Behind her, Marcy’s smile grew and grew. After many questions, Olivia sighed. This was the final one.

“Finally you’ll most likely find this an impertinent question, but indulge me. How did you escape during the siege of the palace?” Olivia asked. Beside Olivia, Yunan also raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Marcy and Sasha looked at each other, worry written all over their faces. They hadn’t prepared Anne for this one. It’d never come up. They were doomed. Groaning silently, Marcy ran a hand through her hair.

Anne, however, remained silent. She was thinking, recalling a moment from her long forgotten past. Searching the deepest, darkest parts of her memory formerly sealed away so tightly she couldn’t begin to pry it open. But now one memory, a vague, foggy recollection, resurfaced after twelve years.

“There was a girl,” she said, breaking the silence. “A girl who worked in the palace. She opened a wall.” Anne reached out, almost like she could see it, like she could feel it.

Marcy’s head raised slowly. She stared at Anne in shock. No one knew about that aside from herself and the Boonchuys. No except… realization hit Marcy. That’s why Anne had felt so familiar. That's why Anne looked almost uncannily like Anastasia. Because she was Anastasia. They actually found her, after twelve years of searching. Trying to process this, Marcy silently slipped outside where Domino had been the entire time. The little kitten must’ve followed them to the house.

“I’m sorry, that’s crazy,” Anne then chuckled sheepishly.

“So?” Sasha asked, leaning on Grime’s shoulder. “Is she a Boonchuy?”

Lady Olivia stood up and brushed off her light pink dress. “Oh well, she answered every question correctly.”

Anne’s face lit up. As did Sasha’s.

“You hear that Anne? We did it!” Sasha grinned, Anne smiling too.

“So, Livi, when are we going to see the Emperor and Empress?” asked Sasha.

Lady Olivia gave Sasha a sour expression after the new, clearly unwanted, nickname, but then she sighed.

“I’m afraid you don’t,” she said curtly.

“Come again?” Sasha asked.

“The Emperor and Empress will no longer be seeing anymore people claiming to be Anastasia,” stated Olivia. “They’ve simply run out of hope. And wish to live the rest of their lives in peace rather than chasing a ghost.”

Anne and Sasha shared sunken looks. After all they’ve done, everything they worked for, and they don’t even get to meet with the royals. Yunan looked between the two then sighed. The long-legged woman stood up and walked to Olivia where she wrapped her arms around Olivia’s waist and rested her chin on the lady’s shoulder.

“Now Via, my lovely sea pearl. Don’t you see these poor people have come so far? And we know Waybright; if she’s saying this girl is Anastasia it's worth checking. Surely you of all people can think of some way to arrange a brief interview with the monarchs,” Yunan cooed into Olivia’s ear, but said it loud enough for all of them to hear. Olivia rolled her eyes and tried to escape Yunan’s arms, but the taller woman held on tighter.

“I refuse to budge till an answer occurs to you,” said Yunan with a smile. Olivia sighed, an unamused expression painted on her face.

“You are unbearable sometimes,” Olivia groaned. But then she smiled, only a bit. “Sweetheart.” 

“Only for you, dear,” purred Yunan, though a fine coat of blush dusted itself onto her face.

Olivia sighed again. Then she perked up.

“Do you like the Amphibian ballet?” Olivia asked. Anne shrugged; she’d never seen it. “I believe they’re performing in Los Angeles tonight. Their highnesses and I love the Amphibian Ballet. We never miss it.” 

Olivia winked and it clicked for both Sasha and Anne

“Ah, right. Maybe we’ll see you there,” Sasha said with a smirk.

“See, dear?” Yunan said, removing herself from Olivia. “I knew you’d think of something.”

“Yes, well, you, sweetheart, are the most convincing of all the women I’ve seen over the past twelve years,” dismissed Olivia.

Outside, Marcy leaned against a tree in the backyard. The new information was making her head spin. She’d been traveling with the real Anastasia for ten days! Over a whole week! She was in love with Grand Duchess Anastasia!

“Marcy! We did it!” Sasha ran out. She then laughed because of it. “We’re going to see the Imperial Highnesses tonight! We’re going to get the ten million coppers!”

Marcy stared at her. After it all, she’d forgotten about the money. No– she didn’t care about the money. The longer they’d been together, the more Marcy just wanted to see Anne happy. The ten million coppers fell to the back of her mind. This was all for Anne, now.

“But Sasha, Sasha, Sasha… she is the princess,” Marcy said.

Sasha nodded, assuming Marcy meant Anne did well in her supposed performance.

“Yes! Yes, Anne was extraordinary. I almost believed her and Olivia,” she laughed.

Anne then came running out with a big smile.

“Olivia offered to take us shopping!” she grinned, stars lit up in her brown eyes. “Shopping in Los Angeles, can you believe this, Domino?”

Anne picked up the kitten who’d run to her feet. Marcy was about to say something, but seeing Anne; her massive grin, eyes sparkling with hope; she chose not to. But Marcy now had a mission; to reunite Anne with her family.

No matter the cost.

Chapter Text

Marcy stood at the entrance to the opera house. During their shopping spree, Marcy had picked out a suit for herself; red and black tailcoat jacket with golden details and buttons, red vest, white bowtie, black pants, and gold and black shoes. Sasha had also picked up a suit; solid white with some silver details. They waited outside for Anne to show up, being aided by Yunan herself with her dress. With the spare time, Sasha pacing nervously near the front steps.

“Sash, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” Marcy said simply. “She’s the princess.”

Sasha waved her hand. “I know, I know-”

“No! You don’t know!” Marcy grabbed Sasha’s arm, pulling her to a stop. 

“ I was the girl, Sasha. The one who opened the wall,” Marcy said firmly. “She’s the real Anastasia.”

Sasha’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. 

“Wait– so that means Anne is hours away from meeting her family?” gasped Sasha. “ We found the rightful heir to Amphiba’s throne. No wonder Andrias was after her! And you-”

Marcy held up a hand, cutting Sasha off. Sighing, she looked down at her shoes. Polished nicely for the special event.

“Will walk out of her life forever,” said Marcy with a puff of breath.

There was a beat of silence. Marcy felt Sasha’s eyes boring in on her, studying her as the blonde so often did.

“Is that what you want?” she asked softly.

Marcy chuckled dryly. “Princesses don’t marry kitchen girls, Sasha. We’re going through with this like nothing has changed.”

“You should tell her, at least, so she knows why,” Sasha implored.

“Tell me what?”

Marcy whipped her head over. Anne stood a few feet away. She wore a thick gray fur coat and had her hair tied up in a bun. There was a butterfly clip in her hair keeping some stray curls back.

“H-how beautiful you look,” Marcy said, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. 

Anne smiled sweetly and Marcy’s heart skipped a beat. Shaking the feelings away, or at the least pushing them aside, Marcy then held out an arm and Anne took it, the two walking up the stairs to the opera house. They mixed in with the sea of people; Marcy guided them over to the coat check. Marcy removed her red coat while Anne went to someone else.

Handing off her coat, Marcy looked up at Anne who was waiting for her and —oh good god Marcy’s gay. Like, really, really gay. And it was showing.

Anne’s dress was a sleeveless, deep navy blue with a clear, glittering cape attached to the dress and flowed behind her. White gloves were on her hands going up to her elbows and a white pearl necklace was strung around her neck. Honestly, she looked like a goddess of the night had descended from the stars before Marcy, who once again, was slack jawed and staring at her like a stunned guppy.

“Marcy,” Anne nodded for her. Marcy shook her head and hurried to Anne’s side. They walked up the stairs to their seats.

They made it to their seats quickly, Marcy pulling out her opera glasses she’d gotten. Looking around, she spotted the Emperor and Empress sitting a few balconies away. Lady Olivia and Yunan sat with them. Marcy nudged Anne, handed her the glasses and pointed. Anne peered through the glasses and whispered something under her breath Marcy couldn’t hear.

The ballet started. The dazzling players took the stage. Marcy was interested in the performance at hand, but it seemed Anne had more important things on her mind. Throughout the entire play her hands tore apart the play’s script until it lay in tiny shreds in her lap. It took Marcy grabbing Anne’s hand and pressing a small kiss to the back of it to divert Anne’s attention. If only for a second.

At the intermission Marcy and Anne stood up. Sasha, who’d snuck in after them, held their seats while sipping what Marcy assumed was champagne. Together, they walked down the hallways, passing many well dressed and wealthy people, toward the royals’ private balcony.

“Come on. I guess it’s time. Relax you’re gonna be great,” Marcy encouraged.

Anne slowed to a stop then turned away, anxiety gawking at her insides. Marcy quickly grabbed Anne's arm and pulled her along.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Marcy cupped one of Anne’s cheeks and looked into her eyes. Those beautiful, wonderful brown eyes. “Take a deep breath, everything's gonna be fine.”

They continued on, stopping in front of the doors. On the doors was a sign that said “ Private Balcony. No not enter ”.

“Wait here just a moment. I’ll go in and announce you properly,” Marcy said, squeezing Anne’s hand. She was about to knock when Anne stopped her.

“Marcy...”

Marcy turned around. “Yes?”

“Look, we’ve been through a lot together, in such a short time too,” Anne started. Marcy nodded in affirmation.

“And I just wanted to say… Well, thank you, I guess. Yes, thank you for everything,” Anne said with a kind smile. “I never could’ve done any of this without you.”

Marcy’s heart squeezed. She smiled back then went into the doors. But she stopped, then looked back at Anne.

“Anne, I-” she started.

“Yes?” Anne encouraged her on, hope in her brown doe eyes.

“I’m... I... Um…” her words caught in her throat. Marcy wanted to explain everything; how she was the girl who saved her, that Anne is the princess, her scheme, everything. But she just couldn’t find the right words.

“I wanted to wish you good luck,” Marcy said with a defeated sigh. “Well… here goes.”

Marcy gave Anne a sad smile then entered the balcony, which wasn’t locked, closing the door behind her. Inside she was met by Olivia sitting on the waiting room couch, Yunan conveniently elsewhere. However the lady stood up upon Marcy’s entrance.

“Please inform their majesties, the Emperor and Empress, that I have found their daughter,” Marcy said. “The Grand Duchess Anastasia. She’s waiting to see them just outside the door.”

“I’m very sorry young lady but the Emperor and Empress will see no one,” Olivia said, holding out her arms to block Marcy. Though Marcy heard the lag in her voice. Olivia was still helping them, despite it all. In hopes of giving her queen and king something she’d failed to deliver multiple times; their daughter.

They must've overheard, because the Emperor and Empress turned around and faced Marcy. Rage burned on the Empress’s face while the Emperor looked near tears. That smile he once had was nowhere to be seen and all the joy formerly in her highness’ eyes had been depleted into nothingness.

“Olivia, you may tell that impertinent young woman that we've seen enough Grand Duchess Anastasias to last us a lifetime,” her majesty hissed with enough venom to flatline a man in seconds.

Olivia flinched at the tone and hung her head. Nervously, she pushed Marcy to the door. The lady must’ve been having second thoughts. She never wanted to hurt them, just to help. But Marcy planned to use tough love if needed.

“Um, you’d better go, Marcy,” she murmured.

“Please, let me just,” Marcy tried pushing past Olivia, but the Emperor and Empress turned away.

“Now if you’ll excuse us,” Bee sighed. “I wish to live the remainder of our lives in peace.”

“Come, Marcy, I’ll see you to the door,” Olivia nudged Marcy along. She closed the curtains accessing outsiders to the royals. Marcy, however, ducked through it and stubbornly sat herself next to the royals.

“Your majesties, I intend you no harm,” she started. The Empress glared at her with blazing brown eyes. “My name is Marcy, I used to work at your palace, twelve years ago.”

“Well, that’s one I haven’t heard, I must say,” hissed Bee, malice in his voice never to be heard before. They both stood up to leave, frustration sharpening their movements.

“Wait, don’t go, please if you’ll just hear me out,” Marcy begged, following them out of the balcony.

“I know what you’re after. I’ve seen it before! People who train young women in the royal ways,” shouted Oum, raising her hands. Bee pulled on a velvet rope summoning the guards.

“But if your highnesses will just listen,” insisted Marcy. She wasn't going to give up. This was for Anne.

“Haven’t you been listening? I’ve had enough. I don’t care how much you have fashioned this girl to look like her, sound like her or act like her. In the end, it never is her!” Oum almost roared, tears appeared in her eyes. Bee grabbed her by the arm and wrapped her in a hug.

“This time it is her!” Marcy shouted.

The Empress merely pressed her face into the Emperor’s chest. Her shoulders shook, and the Emperor rubbed one of his hands down her back.

“Marcy, I’ve heard of you,” Bee hissed, glaring at her. “You’re that con woman from Newtopia, who was holding auditions to find an Anastasia look-a-like.”

Outside, Anne, who’d been listening in, gasped. Marcy… tricked her. She was just using her. Anne was just a tool. A prop to get some money. Marcy never cared for her at all. How could she have been so stupid .

“But your grace, we’ve come all the way from the heart of Amphibia just to see you,” Marcy was running out of ideas. The royals were stubborn, she'll give them that, and they lacked any trust or hope.

“And others have come from the other side of the world,” growled the Emperor.

“No, it’s not that, it’s not what you think,” Marcy insisted, but then two guards entered the room, herding her away from the royals.

“How much pain will you inflict on an old woman for money?” hissed the Empress, glaring as Marcy was dragged from the room.

“But she is Anastasia, I’m telling you, she’s the Grand Duchess. If you’ll only speak to her, you’ll see!” Marcy shouted as she was quite literally thrown out.

She landed at Anne’s feet who stared down at Marcy with a petrified realization on her face. Tiny tears beaded in the corners of her eyes, and one of her hands hovered over her mouth in disbelief. A broken look Marcy never wanted to see was on her face.

“Anne wait-” Marcy pushed herself off the ground.

“It was all a lie, wasn’t it?” Anne asked, the devastation in her voice breaking Marcy’s heart.

“No, no!” Marcy reached for Anne’s hands, but the woman pulled them away.

“You used me,” Anne whispered, looking at the floor. “I- I was just a part of your con to get their money!”

“No, no, no, no.... look it may have started out that way but everything’s different now, because you really are Anastasia, you are,” Marcy insisted. Everything was unraveling. Just when they were so close.

“No… Stop it!” Anne shouted, tears spilling down her cheeks. “From the very beginning you lied! And I not only believed you, I- I actually cared about you!”

Marcy’s heart completely shattered. Anne had trusted her, and even grown feelings for her, only for Marcy to step on them. Toss them away as one would a pair of old shoes.

“Anne, please. When you spoke of the hidden door of the wall opening and the little girl- listen to me that wa—,” begged Marcy. Tears appeared in her eyes too.

“NO!” Anne stepped back, away from Marcy. “I don’t want to hear about anything I said or remembered! You just leave me alone!”

Anne turned, starting to walk away. Marcy once again grabbed her, but Anne stared her dead in the eyes and slapped her across the cheek. Stumbling back and clutching her stinging cheek, Marcy watched Anne disappear into the crowd. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Chapter Text

Marcy stood outside the opera house once again. After Anne stormed out she found Sasha and informed her what happened. Sasha gave her an ‘I told you so’ then left to find Anne. So Marcy waited outside, contemplating all her decisions that led her to abuse Anne’s trust the way she did.

Then she saw the Emperor and Empress. They were leaving the play, walking to their car where a chauffeur diligently waited for them. Stealing her nerves, Marcy decided it was worth the risk, so while the chauffeur held the door open Marcy walked over and slid into the driver's seat. She felt slightly bad about the poor chauffeur she left in the dust, but Anne was far more important. And Marcy was going to prove to Anne she hadn’t been lying.

The car sped off, jolting forwards as Marcy drove them to the place she knew Anne was staying.

“Sir, slow down,” the Empress asked.

“I’m not a sir. And I’m not slowing down. Not until you listen,” Marcy looked back at them, smiling as she saw their shocked expressions.

“You! How dare you?! Stop this car immediately! Stop this car!” the Emperor demanded. 

Marcy just smiled wider as she drove them to Olivia’s house. There she slammed on the brakes and put the car in park. She then got out and walked to the passenger door and swung it open.

“You have to talk to her! Just look at her. Please,” Marcy begged.

“I won’t be badgered by you a moment longer,” stated the Empress, averting her eyes from Marcy and crossing her arms over her chest.

At the end of her rope with these stubborn, stubborn people, Marcy dug into her pocket and produced the small box. She held it out to the couple.

“Do you recognize this?” she asked, holding the box in the palm of her hand. Oum and Bee glanced down then looked away, only to look back with a gasp. Oum took the box, delicately holding it in her fingers while Bee observed over her shoulder.

“Where did you get this?” Oum asked in a hushed voice.

“I know you’ve been hurt,” Marcy said softly.  “But it’s just possible that she’s been as lost and longing as you two?”

The royals looked up at her.

“You’ll stop at nothing will you?” Bee said skeptically.

“I’m probably about as stubborn as you are,” Marcy smiled, gesturing to the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Inside, Anne was packing her bag. This whole trip had been a waste of time. Next day she was finding the Plantars and going back to Wartwood. Who cared if the king was still looking for her. She’ll deal with that later. She just wanted to get away from Los Angeles. To go back home to the safety of Wartwood. It was stupid to even leave the country.

There was a knock on the door and Anne angrily snapped, “Go away, Marcy!”

Even so, the door opened. Anne turned around and instead of Marcy, the Emperor and Empress stood in her doorway. Anne stalled. She didn’t know what to say. Everything Sasha and Marcy said to prepare herself when talking to royalty conveniently removed itself from her memory. So she just stood there like a fish out of water as the royals stared at her with harsh, judgemental eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I- I thought you were,” she stuttered.

“We know very well who you thought we were,” the Empress said, walking in with her husband.

“Now who exactly are you?” asked the Emperor.

Anne looked down, fiddling with her hands. “I- I was hoping you could tell me that.”

The Empress sighed and walked to the window. The Emperor followed. They both had such solemn looks on their faces.

“My dear, we are old and we’re tired of being conned and tricked,” said the Emperor.

“I-I don’t want to trick you,” Anne quickly said.

“And I suppose the money doesn’t interest you either?” hissed the Empress. Anne shook her head.

“I just want to know who I am; whether or not I belong to another family aside from my adoptive one. One that could possibly be your family,” Anne said, nervously shuffling over to the two. She was tall, like them, averaging out between their heights. Taller than the Empress, but shorter than the Emperor.

The royal couple turned to look at her. Even though there is sadness in their eyes, Anne saw them smile softly.kindly, even.

“You’re a very good actress. The best yet, in fact. But I’ve had enough,” the Empress said. Anne looked down as the royals passed her. Then a smell caught her attention.

“Coconut?” she murmured, the Empress looking back.

“An oil for my hands,” she said, holding up her hand.

Anne closed her eyes, memories flowing back to her. The smell of coconut; how it calmed her. She smiled softly at the memory.

“Yes,” she murmured, then giggled. “I spilled a whole bottle even though dad told me not to play with it, because it was stupid expensive. The carpet was soaked. And it forever smelled of coconut.”

She then turned to the Empress who stared at her owlishly. The Emperor looked shocked too.

“Like you,” Anne said.

The royals took a seat on a chair. They watched Anne as she continued reminiscing in her thought to be forgotten memories.

“I used to lie there on the rug and oh how I missed you when you went away. When you came here. To Los Angeles,” Anne recalled, smiling softly. “Dad would take me stargazing, to help me sleep. On summer evenings we’d go to a field and catch fireflies until the sun went down. He’d have to carry me back to bed ‘cause I always fell asleep on his chest.”

Anne shook her head, raising a hand to her temple. Where did all these memories come from? The Emperor gestured for her to sit down, Anne scooting between the two. Oum then noticed Anne’s necklace.

“What is that?” she asked, gesturing to it.

Anne looked down. “This? Well, I’ve always had it. Ever since before I can remember. It's the last thing I have of my family.”

“May I?” asked Oum, Anne removing the chain from around her neck and presenting it to the woman. Oum then took out the music box she’d kept from Marcy.

By then, both Oum and Bee had tears pooling in their eyes, but the Empress talked through them.

“It was our secret. Anastasia's and our’s,” Oum said through her tears, twisting the key in its rightful hole. The box popped open, frog and newt dancing once again, even after twelve years.

Anne watched, humming a simple tune to herself as Oum and Bee stared. She wasn’t sure how she remembered it, but it was almost instinctual.

“ Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remembered ,” she hummed softly to the music.

Tears poured from Oum and Bee’s eyes as they joined in.

“ Hear this song and remember, soon you’ll be home with me, Once Upon a December ,” the three sang together.

Their cracking voices trailed off as they looked at each other and knew that their search was finally over. Bee and Oum choke on a half laugh half sob as they both threw their arms around Anne in an emotional embrace.

“Oh Anastasia! My Anastasia!” cried Oum, pressing a kiss to Anne’s forehead.

Anne laughed and cried as she was hugged by her parents. Her biological parents who did miss her, who’d been searching for her all this time, for years on end. This was a dream come true.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Outside the house, Marcy stood on the sidewalk. She smiled to herself, ignoring the tear running down her cheek. With a final kiss blown to the window, on that only she saw, Marcy walked down the street. She succeeded. That’s all that mattered.

Chapter Text

“General, prepare my things to leave,”

“Sir?” 

“Haven’t you heard?” the man threw a paper at her feet. It unrolled and showed the ever iconic photo of Anastasia on the front page. In bold words it said; “ Lost Duchess Anastasia, Rightful Heir to Amphiba’s Throne, Found After Twelve Years! ”

“The princess has been found. All of Amphibia is saying I should step down and return the monarchy to her; the rightful heir. My soldiers are spread thin trying to combat the riots and protests. So, I’m going to Los Angeles,” he said, turning his back on his general and folding his hands behind his back.

“Of course, sir,” the general then left.

The man looked out the window, watching the massive riot going on just outside the castle gates. It was the third one since news broke out.

“Looks like I’ll have to deal with this issue myself,” he growled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anne had gone to her parents house -er mansion after they reunited. The next day she introduced them to the Plantars. Her mom and dad were beyond grateful to them for raising Anne, showering them with thanks and offering them a place to stay in the mansion. She hadn’t seen Marcy or Sasha for the whole day, but she did see Lady Olivia, Yunan, and Grime. Seems those three still worked for her parents even after all these years. Their loyalty was deeply appreciated.

They were in Anne’s new room, going through boxes filled with old memories. The music box was on her mom’s desk beside an unopened jewelry box. Her mom and dad sat together on a sofa, with a large simple wooden box open beside them. Anne sat on a soft and plush beanbag chair near her parents’ feet. She looked at a formal photograph of her family, touching the face of her dad slowly with her fingertips, tears welling up in her eyes. Her mom noticed and gently took the picture from her hands. Her dad stroked her recently washed hair.

“I remember now,” Anne whispered. “All the good times we had. How you always left me and dad alone which… eh, sometimes wasn’t the best idea.”

“What can I say?” her dad said with his laugh. “I’m a child at heart. Just asked your mother.”

“Sometimes it felt like I was raising two children,” Oum sighed fondly, her husband and daughter laughing brightly.

“Oh look here,” her mom reached behind her and held up a colored picture. It was one Anne had drawn when she was six; a horrible drawn stick person of herself and even worse spelling of the sentence “I’m Anastasia, 6 years old, and I hate responsibility!” her parents laughed. “The drawing you gave me —remember?”

“Yeah, not that I want to,” Anne giggled, looking away from the picture. She was such a brat as a child.

“In your laughter, once again I hear your father’s,” Oum smiled, resting her cheek in her hand. Bee chuckled again, but smiled. His sunshine grin had returned.

Bee took Anne’s hand and they both stood up. He stood with her in front of the grand mirror, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“But you have the beauty of your mother, Empress of all Amphibia,” he said, Anne smiling while Oum snorted behind them. But she stood up too and grabbed something from the jewelry box. She walked over to Anne, presenting her a custom made absolutely exquisite tiara; shimmering silver metal and real diamonds. 

Oum placing it on Anne’s head, the three smiled together as they starred in the mirror.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She’d been paged by the Emperor and Empress. So Marcy arrived in their private office.

“You sent for me, your Graces?” she said.

Bee and Oum stood together next to a desk. Resting near the edge of it was a large box filled neatly with coppers.

“Ten million coppers,” Bee said, gesturing to the box. “As promised, with our gratitude.” 

“I accept your gratitude, your Highnesses. But I don’t want the money,” Marcy said stiffly.

“What do you want, then?” Oum asked with suspicion in her voice.

“Your daughter’s love and forgiveness,” she thought.

“Unfortunately nothing you can give,” Marcy sighed softly. She bowed respectfully then turned to walk away.

“Young lady!” the Empress called.

Marcy stopped. She heard footsteps as the rulers walked over to her. To stand in front of her.

“Where did you get that music box?” Oum asked, looking at Marcy’s face.

She didn’t answer. Instead, Marcy stared sadly at the floor, refusing to meet the queen’s gaze.

“You were the girl, weren’t you? The servant girl who got us out,” said Bee. “You saved her life, and ours. Then you restored her to us, yet you want no reward?”

Marcy looked up at them, eyes glassy from unshed tears. “Not anymore.”

“Why the change of mind?” asked Oum curiously.

“It was more a change of heart,” choked Marcy.  “Now, I must go.”

With that, Marcy left. She walked down the hallway to the stairs where she saw Anne again for the first time in three days. Anne paused upon seeing her, Marcy stopping too. Her breath was stolen all over again. Why did Anne have to look so good in everything?

Her dress was of her heritage (Thai dress), an almost metallic light blue, with carefully embroidered gold details. Sleeveless and with a long fold of fabric on the waist, like a sort of sash, slim, yet moveable skirt, and a long fold of matching blue fabric going over her left shoulder. Golden necklaces, bracelets, and rings adorn her person and her hair had been put up, pearl beads clipped into her curls. Once again, Anne looked like a goddess before Marcy.

“Hello Marcy,” Anne said.

“Hello,” Marcy murmured.

“Did you collect your reward?” asked Anne, bitterness in her voice. Marcy raised her hands in surrender.

“My business here is done,” was all Marcy said, making her descend down the stairs. However, a butler to the manor called up to her.

“Eh, young lady, you will bow and address the Princess as ‘Your Highness’!”

“No that’s not nec-” Anne started, but May held up a hand.

“Please, your highness,” she said, falling into a deep bow. She then righted herself curtly. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

The look on Anne’s face was one of conflict. She looked disappointed, furious, happy, yet sad all at the same time.

“I’m glad you did too,” Anne said, voice small and strained.

“Well, then… Goodbye,” Marcy bowed again, then added. “Your Highness.”

She then left the building, fighting back tears. Marcy went to Olivia’s house where Sasha was. After reuniting with her father Sasha decided to stay in Los Angeles, though she wasn’t joining the military. She was going to school, in the pursuit of education she never got after becoming captain. It was something Marcy expected; she knew Sasha wanted to see her dad again and after being reunited she couldn’t bring herself to leave him again. Sasha was in her own room with Domino, Marcy watching her finish up putting on her armor. Marcy leaned in the doorway, Sasha turning around upon seeing her reflected in the mirror.

“Well if you’re ever in Newtopia again look me up. So long, Sash,” she said, the two giving each other a tight hug.

“You’re making a mistake,” said Sasha as they pulled back, hands still on each other’s shoulders.

“Trust me, this is the one thing I’m doing right,” dryly chuckled Marcy.

Forcing a smile, Marcy cut Sasha off before she could say anymore. She shook her hand and patted Sasha’s new armor plated shoulder. Domino must’ve understood that Marcy was leaving because she meowed sadly. Marcy gave her a few last scratches in between her ears.

“Bye, kitten,” she murmured. Domino meowed again, pawing at her hand. Marcy crouched down to be at eye level with the kitten. “I can’t stay. I don’t belong here.”

She then left, waving goodbye to Sasha. Grabbing her bag, Marcy headed off towards the train station to buy her ticket to Newtopia. And she did her damnedest not to cry on the way there.

Chapter Text

The palace of Los Angeles was alive with a party. Couples in splendor waltzed on the floor while guests whispered excitedly about Anne’s soon appearance. Many of them had actually been at the opening ball in Newtopia all those years ago. Though this time the ball was punctuated by the Plantar family who’d, of course, been invited to the festivities. An empty, cushioned throne sat alone on an empty stage, waiting for the princess.

Anne peered through the curtain at the dancing crowd, giggling at her adoptive family’s antics. But she also kept an eye out for Marcy, even though she knew in her heart she wouldn’t be there. Her parents watched, soft smiles on their faces.

“She’s not out there,” said Oum.

“Oh, I know she’s not, she—” Anne started, but stopped soon after. She'd been caught in the act, so she quickly tried to recover from her mistake. “Who’s not there?”

“A remarkable young woman who found a music box,” Bee said with a slight purr to his words.

“No, she's probably too busy spending her reward money as fast as she can,” Anne said bitterly, looking away.

Her parents said nothing. They just walked over and looked out at the crowd.

“Look at them dancing. You were born to this world of glittering jewels and fine titles, but I wonder if this is what you really want,” pondered her mother.

Anne was taken aback. 

“Of course, of course it is!” she insisted. “I found what I was looking for. I found out who I am. I found you, and I have the Plantars here too. Everything’s perfect .”

“Yes you did find us, and you’ll always have us and the Plantars. But is it enough?” asked Bee, cupping one of Anne’s cheeks and brushing away strands of hair.

“Dragonfly-” Bee started, but paused.

For a moment Bee just holds her. There are tears in his eyes. He knew he had to tell Anne the truth. So he pulled away, looked at Anne, and sighed. Oum walked up to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Anne looked between them; confused.

Bee continued. “She didn’t take the money.”

Anne stared in shock.

“She- she didn’t?”

Oum smiled and moved forwards, cupping her hands on Anne’s cheeks and giving her forehead a kiss. She then pulled away, looking Anne in her eyes. “Dragonfly, knowing that you are alive, seeing the woman you have become, brings me joy I never thought I could feel again. But what is this life worth if the people you truly love aren’t in it?”

The couple then pulled back.

“Whatever you choose, we will always have each other,” said Bee, then they both left through the curtain to talk to guests.

Anne was left alone, a tingling feeling in her chest. She was about to head into the crowd when Domino ran out to the gardens, hissing angrily as she sprinted. Anne quickly chased after her, not about to lose her kitten. She followed the kitten through the garden, passing hedges cut to look like animals of all kinds; horses, bears, lions, elephants, frogs, newts, axolotls; a whole zoo. Made Anne wonder what they were paying the groundskeepers. The sounds of the party fell behind her as Anne ran deeper into the night. Soon her only source of light was from the moon and stars above.

Following the angry meows and hisses, Anne found herself standing on a bridge over a river. Domino was hissing at something in the distance; shrouded in fog and mist rising from the river.

“Domino, what’s wrong?” Anne asked the kitten.

“Why hello there, little princess,” a deep voice made Anne freeze. A shiver ran down her spine and dread pooled in her stomach.

A tall man walked forwards. He was dressed in purple and gold armor, but it looked more for show and less for strength. His golden hazel eyes bore on Anne, making her feel unreasonably small, but also angry. A sick, crooked grin worked its way onto the man’s face.

“Look at what twelve years have done to us,” he said, walking closer. “You; a beautiful young flower, and me; an angry, crazy old king.”

“That face,” Anne whispered, holding her head.

“Yes. Last seen at a party much like this one,” mused the man.

“Mom… dad,” gasped Anne, tears springing into her eyes.

“Ah yes. Your wonderful parents. They tried so valiantly to get you to safety, even making it out of the castle. But in the end you were still lost for twelve long years,” the man unsheathed a sword. The silver blade glinted in the moonlight. 

“Andrias!”

Anne jumped out of the way to miss Andrias’s first strike.

“Andrias! Yes, my dear,” snarled the mad king. “Destroyed by your despicable family! But what goes around comes around!”

Andrias cackled, the thunderous noise making Anne wince. She stumbled back, dodging the king’s strikes and jabs. If only she had a sword. But all she could do was duck, dodge, and stay alive as the mad king pretty much toyed with her. He chased her, like a cat and mouse game. Anne tried running back to the palace, but he blocked her path. She backed up but tripped on the uneven stonework, falling on the cobblestone and scrambling back.

“Stop, no, get away. No, no!” Anne shouted, still scrambling back as Andrias played with her. “Mom! Dad!”

“Your parents can’t hear you out here, princess,” growled Andrias as he stood over her, standing in front of the moon so his massive form was silhouetted by the silver light. “But do not worry. You’ll be put out of your misery very soon. Say hello to my father for me.”

Anne stopped then pushed herself to her feet. Stealing her nerves, she glares at Andrias in all his horror.

“I’m not afraid of you!” she shouted. She wasn’t that scared little girl anymore. This man took almost everything from her. She wasn’t going to let him do it again.

“I can fix that easily!” Andrias laughed, tossing his head back. “Face it princess. No one can save you!”

Andrias brought down his sword, preparing to slice Anne clean in half, but it was intercepted by another sword. The resounding bang rang in Anne’s ears.

“Wanna bet?!”

Blinking her eyes open, Anne’s heart leaped.

“Marcy!” she gasped.

“Anne, catch!” Marcy threw another sword at Anne. She caught the hilt and unsheathed it just in time to block Andrias’ next attack. He’d kicked Marcy away, the woman pushing herself back up to her feet.

“How enchanting, "together again", for the last time!” roared the king, kicking Marcy into the side of the bridge’s stone wall. Anne heard a soft crack and knew that wasn’t good.

“Marcy!” Anne shouted, defecting an attack.

“I’m fine! I’m okay!” Marcy called, pushing herself onto her hands and knees.

“Not for long!” grinned Andrias as he continued to strike. Anne deflected as well as she could, but the king was bigger; stronger. She was being pushed back, stumbling over the cobblestone as Marcy tried getting up.not to mention heels were not good battle shoes.

“Say your prayers, little princess!” Andrias laughed.

Then there was a loud, outraged hiss and Domino launched herself at Andrias, raking her claws over his face. That caused him to shout and stumble, shaking his head and prying the kitten off. He shouted, holding Domino and throwing her at Marcy who miraculously caught her.

Andrias looked back just in time to see Anne swiped, slicing open a wound in her left cheek. Blood oozed out of the wound, running down his chin as he dropped his sword to cup it.

“That was for Marcy!” Anne shouted then slashed his other cheek, the king shouting in pain.

“That was for my parents!” she said, then readied her sword.

“And this is for you!” Anne plunged the sword straight into Andrias’ heart, tearing the ceremonial armor, skin, bones, muscles, and tissue. Andrias screamed, but crumbled to the ground. Anne tore her sword out, blood spilling from the wound. One look and Anne knew he was dead. Or as good as dead.

But that didn't concern her. She ran over to Marcy and dropped to her knees. Hands shaking, Anne cupped Marcy’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“Marcy- oh god- Marcy,” Anne gasped, trying to catch her breath.

Marcy smiled and giggled softly, gently placing one of her hands on top of Anne’s.

“I thought you were going back to Newtopia,” said Anne, looking into Marcy’s eyes. Those green-gray eyes that held so much; intelligence, pain, loss, strife, love, adoration, and endearment all swirled together like a whirlpool.

“I was,” Marcy whispered.

“You didn’t take the-” Anne trailed off.

“I couldn’t,” Marcy said.

“Why?” asked Anne.

“Because… I…” Marcy paused, looking away. Anne sat back on her legs, gently guiding Marcy’s eyes back to her. Marcy looked at Anne, tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Anne,” she whispered. “But I love you too much to see you go again.”

Anne’s eyes widened then she threw herself into Marcy’s arms. She buried her face into Marcy's shoulder, wrapping her arms around the ravenette’s neck.

“And I love you too much to see you leave,” murmured Anne.

They stayed in their embrace, holding each other like they were the other’s only tether. However, they looked up when they heard soft meows. Domino was pawing at Anne’s leg, looking back at the castle.

“They’re waiting for you,” Marcy sighed.

“They’re waiting for us ,” Anne said, standing up and holding her hand out. “Marcy, will you accompany me to the party?”

Marcy smiled and took Anne’s hand. Anne scooped Domino up in her other arm and together they ran back to the castle. Where everyone was waiting.

“Wait, what about him?” Marcy pulled Anne to a stop and pointed at Andrias’ corpse.

“Oh, right, forgot about him,” Anne said, then looked around. “Where’s a payphone?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, where do you think Anastasia is?” Bee asked Oum as they walked through the crowd.

“Hopefully taking our advice, for once,” his wife answered, nursing a glass of red wine.

It had been well over an hour since they’d joined the party. People were beginning to talk and asked questions about why Anastasia hadn’t arrived. Both royals knew very well that Anne had feelings for Marcy, so they could only hope she’d heeded their guidance and followed her heart. Neither were concerned, though, as they walked over to their friends; Olivia, Yunan, Grime, Sasha, and the Plantar family all gathered together.

“Your majesties,” Olivia curtseyed gracefully. “By any chance, do you know where Anastasia is?” 

“Hopefully she’s dealing with her emotions,” said Oum.

“What do you mean by that?” Sprig, the boy Anne saw as a brother, asked, tugging on the collar of his suit.

They didn’t get to answer because the grand doors burst open. There was a loud bang that followed and all noise ceased. Many guests jumped in surprise. The music stopped and conversations were dropped. All eyes were on the one who made such an entrance.

“I’m here! We’re here!”

Anne came running in, Marcy running by her side. They were panting, both having scuffs and scratches Oum made a note to ask about later. But right now she was just happy the two were together, at least hopefully so by the fact that their hands were interlocked tightly. Domino was in Anne's arms, but she soon leaped down and bolted over to Sasha.

The crowd froze, no noise heard. Then there was an uproar of cheers and shouts. The music kicked up, a slow dance. Anne grinned and pulled Marcy to the dancefloor, taking her hand. Oum watched with a full heart and tears in her eyes as the two gracefully swept the dance floor; movement so fluid it was like they were made for each other. 

Other couples soon joined the floor, Bee smirking and dragging Oum out after Sasha offered to watch her drink. 

Together, they danced the night away. But at the end of the song Anne and Marcy had made it to the center of the floor where they shared their first of many kisses. Sprig and Polly made noises of disgust and shielded their faces while Hopediah gasped in delight. Oum rested her head on Bee's shoulder and smiled. She was proud, so proud, of the beautiful woman her daughter grew up to be. She might’ve not been there for much of her life, but she’d be with her from then on. No matter what.

With a happy sigh, Oum watched Anne and Marcy dance once more. They truly were a happy couple. And Oum wouldn’t wish for anything different. Everything did turn out okay in the end.

That was, until, the next week, when they received a letter from Amphibia stating the king had been assassinated the night of the party. And they asked Anne to return as the new queen; taking her rightful place as the heiress to Amphibia’s throne.