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Chapter Text

The queen of pop trolls sat on her bed quietly.

Her shoulders sagged and her colors dulled just a bit, her eyes were red with tears she shed not long ago. She had no ounce of strength left, she was just done and tired. She felt hurt. No, not hurt. That would be downplaying everything. She felt heartbroken. She felt like dying right then and there. Nothing mattered to her at this moment than the painful thuds of her shattered heart.

Within her grasp was one of the leaf vests of her husband of almost fifteen years. He never gave up wearing those, although the color patterns were more like the greens and blues she wore on a daily basis. No matter what Satin and Chenille were trying to do, no matter the style, all he allowed them to change were the pants he wore but the leaf designs were his thing. He fought them tooth and nail for that. Poppy couldn’t help but let out a painful chuckle, how amused she was at hearing her husband complain about them and their adamant persistence in changing ‘who he was’. But they thought, the newly named Prince Consort had to style up and pop. She actually loved his leaf vests. It reminded her of their youth, of the ragged and rough dashing survivalist he used to be.

Their marriage started out fiery and impulsive, yet laced with the comforts of love and longing. Even after the wedding Branch still took her out on romantic dates at least once a week to get away. Just the two of them. He still read her his poems and serenaded her. He cooked all their meals because he thought she was way too focused on sweets and treats. He wanted them both to be healthy. He would go around and keep their royal pod organized, reel in the chaos that were her scrapbook supplies on a daily basis. It had been the subject of some of their arguments but she still loved him afterwards and he loved her.

Poppy still loved him when their first child hatched. When they clashed about how to bring up their children, then they came to an understanding because they wanted this to work. Or when they accidentally had two more eggs at the same time just years after their firstborn hatched. Well, it wasn’t really accidental, they knew what they were doing but having two at the same time was unexpected. They were a great team, amazing parents of their son and two daughters. She still loved him when they had to juggle parenting and duties, when they had little time for each other. She still loved him when he stopped taking her on dates. She understood, they had their hands full and were just happy they could get to bed after a long day. She loved him when he stopped writing poems and the only songs they sang together were the morning songs. She still loved him when Branch let himself go, morphing from the fit survivalist form to more of a dad bod, so cuddly and welcoming. He wasn’t fat, of course but he did look more like the regular trolls over the years. She still loved him when the fire went out in their relationship, replaced by the warm embers of belonging. She loved their banter, their occasional debates sparked on by their opposing views. It reminded her of what once was.

Her heart was in agony. Recalling all these memories and details made everything so much worse. She knew she was torturing herself but she could not help it, they were just flooding in without her say so.

Her magenta eyes soon lowered to the leaf vest she was holding, still bathed in her husband’s scent. And intertwined within the leaves at the back was a short deep orange hair. Obviously it did not belong to Poppy, neither to Branch or any of their children. Neither would it be so deeply embedded if it wasn’t a prolonged contact. Hair doesn’t just fall into material like that.

At first, the Queen tried to explain it away. Maybe he helped someone with something. But what could he have possibly helped with that resulted this hair to embed itself in this manner? In this location? Then, just hours ago, she remembered the past few months, things that suddenly made sense but puzzled her for a while.

It started with him staying out late. Sometimes he would come back to their pod at bedtime, clearly tired but still perky, sometimes kind of out of breath. He would immediately take a shower before doing anything else. He did this a couple of times a week and if she asked where he was, he would be vague or take his time to answer. He would distract her with passionate kisses she missed from the days they still had that spark.

The kisses, yes. He started to give her more passionate kisses as of late. He would greet her with one in the morning and when he got home. The kind they used to share in the beginning but rarely did now. He would also bring home gifts. Flowers, small jewelry, treats he bought on his way home. Was he feeling the guilt? He was trying to make himself feel better by giving her this treatment and justify what he was doing as not so bad in comparison.

He would hum love songs to himself while he cooked or did something in the kitchen or living room but would stop when she walked in, then talk to her as a distraction.

Then, he started to take care of himself more. He used hair gel again, like when he was younger. He changed the cologne he used as well. She also couldn’t help but notice that he started working out again. At first, Poppy was delighted at seeing his muscles visible, even firm against her touch once again, like they used to. She was positively surprised by this development. She had no qualms about his new dad bod, it made him so much easier to hug and cuddle but she wasn’t complaining. Heck, she absolutely loved it. Once he was positively back in shape like he used to be, quite unique for a forty-two years old troll, she felt she could barely keep her hands to herself. She truly felt like the fire they lost was starting to return into their marriage.

But her brief happiness was cut short. Poppy’s mind kept screaming at her that something wasn’t right. She started to see these sudden changes in such a short time and pieced the puzzle together a while ago already. The way he suddenly stayed out late from time to time, took a shower straight after, changed his appearance to seem younger. This almost correlated with what trolls said about those who were starting to age. How they felt their life was too unsatisfying, when they were suddenly struck with the fear that they could not experience anything new, so they ran headfirst into something idiotic, like making a big purchase or starting affairs.

But she felt she was overthinking things and overthinking was Branch’s thing.

Yet, here she was sitting now, on the edge of their bed, staring at the biggest evidence she will ever find. There was no point in fighting this, no matter how painful it was, no matter how much it hurt. She had to come clean with what she knew was happening.

Branch was having an affair.

It hurt. It hurt so much to admit this. Poppy was already consumed with grief before when she realized this but the pain didn’t dull by repeating it now more clearly. She felt like crying again but no tears were coming, she already shed them in the past hour. She was just numb now.

Poppy flinched when she heard the door open to their pod and she quickly put the vest to the side, into the laundry basket.

“I am home!” She heard Branch shout from the entrance and closed the door behind him. She quickly glanced at the clock. He was late again. She felt a lump form on her throat but she pushed back the urge to just shout at him right then and now.

She looked up when he entered their bedroom with a skip in his step. The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers with that deep kiss he was giving her lately but she barely returned it. She knew where he was. In fact, she almost felt sick from it. How could he kiss her after what he did, after kissing the other girl goodbye?

“Is everything okay, love?” Came his concerned voice, his brow furrowing with worry, his hands still holding her shoulders after their kiss.

“I am okay, just exhausted.” Was her short answer accompanied by a small smile she managed to squeeze out and for a moment she thought he didn’t believe her, his blue eyes scanned hers for a bit but eventually he let her go and made a bee-line for the bathroom.

Poppy already showered a while ago, so she just slipped under the covers, turned away from Branch’s side of the bed and tried to go to sleep. She wasn’t lying when she said she was exhausted but sleep didn’t come easy.

First, her brain wasn’t letting her. It kept repeating the same things she saw, all the evidence she had. That she should confront him right now, give him the benefit of a doubt and let him explain before she decided what to do next. Would she try to save her marriage or demand a divorce? She knew she still loved him and it hurt. But would she ever be able to trust him again? If he came home late one day, would she bring this up? Part of her said she would do her best to believe him and try to work it out… Silver linings. Silver linings, Poppy.

Then, there was her husband, who saw her awake once he returned to their bedroom and attempted to coax her to make love but she refused, saying she was way too tired for that. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine and nausea chocked her. After what he did he still wanted her too? A thought entered her mind as she lay there, listening to Branch’s light snoring beside her. Was she not enough? Did their bedroom really run that cold after almost fifteen years of marriage? She recalled with a small pained smile that in the beginning they could barely leave their bedroom without pulling each other back. Later, it calmed to a once a day, then once their children hatched, especially the two girls, they were delighted if they had the energy for it twice a week. But even then it wasn’t like it used to be. Practiced touches and moves, they knew what the other liked already. And after so many years, she felt it was something they did out of habit, with the passion long gone.

So was this the reason? Who was to blame for it? Was it him for not saying anything? She knew he found it hard to talk about his feelings and his needs, he would rather put her first and adjust to it. Was she selfish for expecting this of him, knowing it might not be what he wanted? She clutched her bedsheets closer to her chest when a realization hit her. When was the last time she did something nice for him? In that way. When was the last time she made herself look fancy and desirable? When was the last time she initiated? Before his new workout, that is. Sure, she called him ‘handsome’ as a nickname but when was the last time she actually called him that? When was the last time she teased him?

It was her fault. Part of it was, at least.

And then, there were the dates. His poems, his songs. Sure, she planned some of these dates and readily serenaded with him, joining in his songs, and yes he always insisted he wanted to do most of the planning because he was a hopeless romantic and felt good surprising her. But when did she decide to plan a date once he stopped doing it? Never. She just let it go. Yes, their duties and parenting itself was keeping them on a tight schedule but she felt she could have done something. What was stopping her from just… cooking dinner for when he came home if she happened to be the first to arrive? Yes, he insisted he was the one cooking in this pod but she could have done it out of love to ease his burdens.

Poppy felt tears run down her cheeks once again but refused to make noise. She didn’t want to wake him up.

She wasn’t ready to face him yet.

So, she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next day, Poppy decided to end this madness.

She was sick and tired of this uncertainty, this pain. Her thoughts kept going in circles, always arriving to the same conclusion. She was getting nowhere. It was eating her up. She didn’t want their children to notice anything either.

“Look at the bright side, Poppy.” The Queen told herself as she walked among the pods late in the afternoon. Her tone cheerful and forcing a small smile onto her lips. “This might just be a big misunderstanding.”

Deep down she knew it wasn’t but she tried to stay positive until the very end. She let herself get carried away in her grief but what if this was all for nothing? She felt her husband’s love in the morning hug and kiss he gave her. She sang the morning song with him in perfect harmony, like always. She felt the warmth in his smile as he said his goodbye for the day before leaving her to go about his duties around the village, while promising to check up on their children during the day after their classes. He also made lunch and cleaned up by the time she arrived home to eat.

Would a cheating husband do something like this?

Yes. Out of guilt.

The Queen of Pop shook her head, trying to get these thoughts out of her mind for now. What she needed was confirmation and she was about to get it. A quick check of her hugtime bracelet told her it was almost time for her husband to head home.

Poppy walked among the pods, making sure to keep to less walked paths, looking for Branch. Someone told her he was helping with their new go-cart racetrack, about to give his Branch Seal of Approval for safety. If everything goes well, the opening will be in five days.

Then, he appeared.

She hid behind a taller bush when she spotted the teal in the corner of her vision. Soon enough, she watched him walk past her at a distance. Nothing too suspicious about him. He was still on time to get home, actually. He seemed to be on his way. But then, he suddenly took a sharp left and walked on. Poppy raised an eyebrow but didn’t think much of it yet. Instead, she abandoned her hiding spot and launched herself up onto the trees above, doing her best to camouflage herself against the bark and the leaves with her hair. Her heart started to beat louder when she noticed he stopped and turned around to wave at someone walking by, then waited for a bit. Only once he looked around thoroughly, including upwards did he make another turn into a tighter street between pods.

His walk was slow and he kept glancing around until he reached a low hanging yellow pod and knocked on the door. Poppy watched from her hiding spot as a female troll with yellow skin and orange hair answered and ushered him inside.

She felt her world was crashing down above her. The orange hair on his leaf vest… It was her. The worst part was that she knew this girl. Well, not exactly by name but she has seen her around. She seemed to be such a sweet troll with such a gentle voice. She remembered talking to her not a month ago. And all this time she…?

What defense would she have? She didn’t know the Prince Consort was married to her? For more than a decade now? Or that he told her they were on bad terms, about to break apart? Everyone knew their marriage was rock solid. She knew it as well. So why would she…?

“No.” Poppy told herself as she lost her camouflage and narrowed her eyes at herself. How could she jump to conclusions so quickly? Yes, she was very distraught last night and let darkness enter her ray of sunshine but she trusted Branch, right? He was here because he was helping her with something. She kept telling herself this. Yes, this was why he was sneaking around for weeks, making sure nobody saw him, only to be basically pulled inside by this other troll who happened to have orange hair, which was tangled with his leaf vest.

She was doing it again.

She had to stop.

Poppy was the one who always reprimanded Branch for having negative thoughts, which would then spiral him into a depressing cycle. She asked him to be positive in everything or most things, to see the silver lining. To break the cycle. Yet here she was, doing the same as him. Nothing was certain yet.

So, she decided to wait for a bit. She probably waited for ten or fifteen minutes but it felt like hours for her. Then, she decided to crash the party. She used her hair to swing down closer to the pod until she landed in front of the door, one of her hands reached out for the doorknob but she stopped, frozen in place, unsure if she wanted to see what was beyond this door. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, her nerves were on edge but she steeled herself. She took a few deeper breaths, then swung the door open.

Poppy froze at what she saw.

They stood in the middle of the pod, in each other’s arms. Branch had his hands on her waist, while the girl had hers on his shoulders. They stood still and looked towards the door, at her with clear shock and mouths gaping open.

It was like her heart stopped beating.

“Poppy?”

She did not answer him.

“What are you doing here?!” Branch asked her, no shouted at her as if she wasn’t supposed to be there. Well, she really wasn’t. She watched as the two of them parted, with him pushing the girl away from him and making his way to her in exchange in a quick pace.

“Queen Poppy…” The girl trailed off as she backed away from her husband, all the while looking between her and him, clearly unsure what to say. “I…”

“Please…” Poppy started in a soft tone laced with disbelief as she stepped back. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like…”

Initial anger spent and stopping a few steps away from her, she watched as the senses returned to her husband, who met the gaze of the girl he was with, then looked back at her. She saw the nervousness in his wide blue eyes, the sweat that was rolling down from his brow. He stepped closer, a hand outstretched towards her. “Poppy… This… This isn’t…” He stuttered.

She heard enough.

Poppy struck her hair upwards and swung away. She heard Branch call her name over and over, shouting at her that ‘it wasn’t what she thinks it was’ but she was done. There was no explaining this away. Her own magenta eyes saw what they did, the way they held each other, they were clearly looking at one another and standing close before she barged in. Had she been a few minutes later…

Suddenly, she tripped on something as she made her way up the nearest tree. That was when she realized her vision was blurry. Tears were streaming down her eyes but she stumbled on and on. She sobbed when she heard Branch call her name from somewhere below her. The Queen wanted to camouflage herself again but she knew there was no getting away from his sharp gaze. So, instead, she climbed on as quickly as she could, hoping to lose him in the foliage.

Eventually, she grasped the last branch and hoisted herself up onto it to sit there quietly. Her arms were trembling and her breathing came out in gasps but she did make it. She no longer heard him call after her, which both calmed her and made her feel cold. He gave up so soon. Almost fifteen years meant this much to him. In fact, he gave up on them months ago.

Although she was sitting there on top of the tree branch, overlooking the entire village and the surrounding forest, with such breathtaking sights around but she was blind to it. She felt like she was chocked by that dark Bergen pot all over again. She felt like she was kneeling on the cold metal surface, her heart sinking, her hope lost. Her colors dulling.

And this time… there was nobody to sing them back.

“Poppy!” His voice sounded close, she saw him climb onto the same branch she was sitting on from the corner of her eye but she did not move. She didn’t even look at him or acknowledge him. “Look, Poppy, I… I didn’t… This wasn’t… She is not… We didn’t!” He stuttered on and on, all the while scooting closer to her, trying to explain himself. His nervousness and the way he fidgeted was all she needed to see.

“Then what was it?” She asked calmly, trying to will herself to feel numb to it all.

Branch opened his mouth to say something but no coherent sound came out at first. “I… I… I… Look,…” He finally said but averted his gaze from her nervously. “I am not… It was not what you think it was!” Branch told her firmly, finally finding his words. “If… If that was what you think. This is not…”

“So then what were you doing?” Poppy asked, not exactly interested in this conversation but part of her wanted to hear what he had to say for himself. What kind of excuse will it be? Did he get lost and instead of going home into her arms, he accidentally walked towards the other side of the village, walked into the wrong pod and embraced the wrong girl? Or did he get a bout of amnesia?

“Just trust me, Poppy…” He pleaded. Even after all these years he was still struggling to convey his feelings and thoughts. She watched his hands shake a bit. He was past nervousness. He was panicking. Maybe she should do both of them a favor and go home now before he got a heart attack. She didn’t want anything to happen to him. No matter what happened just now.

Still, the Queen felt a pang of pain in her chest when he asked her to trust him. Trust him? She turned her tear-stained face towards him and stared at him, giving him a long silent look, then made a move to stand. But Branch grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her back down.

“Y-you were not supposed to see that-…” He finally whispered and she closed her eyes, averting her gaze from him now.

“Of course not!” She interrupted him but it wasn’t her talking. It was her broken heart. “Of course I am not supposed to see my husband of nearly fifteen years lovingly embrace another girl!”

“Poppy!”

“Don’t you think I didn’t notice?!”

“Poppy! Just listen-”

“The way you stay out late, then come back home, hop into the shower right away? How your looks became so important! You even work out again, and use a different cologne, and use hair gel again, how you sometimes hum love songs but stop when I walk in-“

“Rumba!”

Poppy stopped at the outburst and turned to look at Branch confused, who just stared back at her with a desperate look on his face. She couldn’t help but frown. Of all the excuses she expected to leave his mouth, she was not prepared to hear a random word.

“What-?”

“Sunny is teaching me how to dance Rumba.” Branch said calmly, emphasizing each word he said.

Poppy still didn’t understand and shook her head, trying to make sense of this.

“Dance… lessons?” She asked, uncertain, her voice quiet.

“Yes!” He almost laughed, which only made her more confused.

The Queen of Pop felt kind of deflated but also unsure. Was this the excuse he decided to come up with? Was this a desperate attempt to save himself? Now that she thought about it… If it were really dance lessons, which she doubted it was, it would make sense to stay out late but it didn’t explain everything else. She felt she wanted to believe him. Every fiber of her being wanted this to be true. And yet…

“But why keep it from me?” She asked, fixing him with a firm glare, demanding an explanation and boy it better be good.

“Because it was supposed to be a surprise.” Branch admitted after taking a shaky breath and lowered his gaze from her to watch the leaves dance in the wind below them.

“A surprise?” Poppy echoed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes.” Was all Branch said but Poppy did not relent her hard stare as she waited for him to continue, very curious about what he had to say. “Do you… Do you remember, when we were planning our wedding? How you wanted something out of the norm for our First Dance?” Branch finally asked and looked at her. Once the question left his mouth, Poppy’s eyes widened but before she could answer, her husband continued. “You didn’t want to dance the usual waltz. No, my energetic bubbly wife-to-be wanted to spice things up and dance Rumba.” He paused, letting it sink in for a bit, then lowered his gaze again with a sad smile. “Back then I told you I will not do it. I heard of it but I didn’t know a step of that dance. We had like… a week to practice our First Dance and it wasn’t enough for me to learn something entirely new.” She saw him meet her gaze once again and gave her a sad smile. “And you know what? You were okay with it. My comfort was just as important as the fun you wanted to have, so we had our waltz.” He paused and sighed longingly as memories of their First Dance washed over him. “And it was beautiful.”

And it was indeed. Her own heart took her back to almost fifteen years ago when they both glided over the stage with well-practiced steps, completely in synch, entirely in harmony with each other. It wasn’t perfect, though. She remembered her stumbling but he dipped her to hide it, while he made a wrong step and she pulled him to twirl her so nobody would notice. Their dance wasn’t perfect. Not everything in their marriage was perfect from parenting to choosing vacation spots. But that was what made them perfect for each other. They went into this, knowing they will clash and knowing they will love each other through it.

After a sigh, Branch continued. “So… once I realized our fifteenth anniversary is coming up… I wanted to… I wanted to surprise you by learning how to dance Rumba….”

The mind dead set on catching her husband cheating was suddenly flooded with both happiness and pain upon hearing this confession. She could have fought it. She could have accused him of lying. But Poppy knew from the look and smile he gave her that he was telling the truth. Every fiber of her being knew. There was this thing about him, these twitches, the nervous movements of his fingers, the way he held his ears, the way he talked… Branch wasn’t cheating. Her marriage was never in danger and it filled her with relief and happiness. But she also felt the stabs of pain in her chest. Because she didn’t trust him. It was so easy for her mind to bring her to such a cold conclusion, despite knowing her husband.

“I ruined it…” Was the first thing she happened to say as she stared ahead, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks once she realized this. He was trying to surprise her with something so thoughtful. Something he remembered from nearly fifteen years ago when she forgot about it herself. And she… And she really…?

“No, you didn’t.” Came Branch’s calming voice and put a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. He had this way of knowing what to do when it came to her and sometimes it astonished her. “It was my fault. I should have at least told you I am planning a surprise, even if you would have snuck after me to find out what it was…” He let out a small chuckle to ease the tension between them. “So my secrecy would not cause…. this…”

Poppy felt her heart sink again and slowly she leaned towards her husband, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt him shift as he gladly offered the comfort she needed, feeling that one of his strong hands wrapped around her waist to pull her closer to his side.

“I didn’t trust you… But I always trust you… But now I didn’t. I really thought you were…” She sobbed and snuggled into his side more. Here, in the embrace of her loving and understanding husband, with each sob and each drop of tear, the Queen of Pop felt lighter. A heavy weight was lifted from her heart but just barely. The fact that she did not trust the very troll who was ready to give his life for her without a second thought, who went through fire and ice to keep her safe, who faced his biggest fears for her, it made her feel absolutely horrible. “I don’t know what came over me…”

“I am so sorry…” Both of them said it at the same time and they both looked quite surprised at one another. They stared for a while in silence. Then, they both chuckled, their mood lifting ever so slightly.

“This isn’t your fault.” Branch told her again with a shake of his head, using his embrace to pull her flush against him now. “I guess I should have told you about my reasons and try to keep my secret less of a secret. Because now that you told me about what you noticed… Yeah…” He trailed off with a grimace. He was probably seeing things from her perspective now and he didn’t like what he saw either.

“Speaking of which…” Poppy suddenly spoke up and leaned away a bit as she regarded her husband with a confused look. “So what about all the other stuff? Like you humming love songs to yourself?”

“Oh, that…” The troll beside her chuckled and gave her one of his dashing smiles. “I was humming the song we are going to dance to on our anniversary. I was going over the steps in my mind too.”

“And what about you working out again? And the gifts, and the kisses, and the stuff about your looks?” She asked curiously as she placed her head back onto his shoulder with a content sigh.

“That is a longer story…”

Chapter Text

Blue eyes fluttered open.

At first, his vision was blurry but his sight adjusted to the relative darkness surrounding him. From the lack of light and the calls of specific animals coming from the window, Branch deducted that it was still the middle of the night. Way too early to wake up. A quick glance at the clock at his bedside table told him it was four in the morning.

Just knowing it was this early forced a yawn out of him.

He moved to stretch a bit and turn to his other side when he felt a pressure. The reason he woke up. Nature was calling. He quickly got out from under the covers, put his bathrobe on and got up to use the bathroom. Once done, he walked back into the bedroom and stared at the bed with an annoying realization. His eyes have popped awake and he no longer felt like he could sleep.

The teal troll gave the bed one more glance, along with the snoozing shape of Poppy, then walked out into the living room, knowing exactly what would help. He closed the door and flicked the lights on, then turned to walk to the kitchen, where he quickly snatched a carton of milk from the fridge. He turned the stove on, took out a pan and added some milk to warm it.

Warm milk was the remedy used through the generations. At least, it worked on him for sure. Preparing it was quick and easy, with minimal cleaning required afterwards.

As he poured the heated up milk into a mug, Branch realized he overdid on the temperature, so he will need to blow it and wait for it to cool enough to be considered warm milk, not scalding hot milk. His tired mind must be messing with him. How could he calculate the right timing wrong? He was a veteran at preparing warm milk at this point, considering he had been soothing both his wife and their children with the thing.

With a sigh of annoyance, the male troll walked back to the living room and set the mug on the crafting table Poppy used for scrapbooking. It was the closest table to the bedroom and he didn’t want to stumble around once the milk did its magic. He didn’t want the kids to wake up to it and ask him for warm milk as well. He would do it for them half asleep, no questions asked, though.

As the Prince Consort, Branch volunteered to do all the parenting and domestic matters, while Poppy, as Queen, dealt with her royal duties. He would also work on protecting the village and head constructions when they came up. It was a silent agreement between them and it worked for the past fifteen-ish years.

As he sat down, Branch shook his head at the thought of his family.

Their oldest, Fern, was about to turn thirteen and he already knew what the boy will ask for his birthday. His own pod. What the young man didn’t know was that Branch already made arrangements for the construction of it. The boy took after him in a lot of things. He had his logic, his knack for mechanics coupled with the stubbornness of his mother, along with her love for scrapbooking. He was the crown prince and next in line for the throne. As such, Poppy was taking him along on her duties to show him the ropes.

He was a difficult trolling to wrangle as his first attempt at parenting but it was all well worth it. All those debates with Poppy trying to spoil him rotten and him correcting it, all the sleepless nights he spent at his crib and bed when he was sick, all the patience while he helped him study. It all paid off. He was well on his way to become a very efficient and prepared King for their village. However, now that he spent more time with his wife than him, he missed the rascal’s presence during the day.

And then, there were the daughters. Branch chuckled to himself when he remembered how they planned to have one more egg after Fern was born. It all came up when their oldest was still in his egg. They were discussing possible names when Poppy brought up a tradition her family had. All names had two Ps in the middle, then end with a Y. Branch expressed his displeasure with it and produced a finely made list of the best names he could come up with.

During their back and forth, he mentioned how they could name their first child according to the list but they will use that traditional naming on the next egg. Poppy asked him how many more eggs he wanted and he told her he wanted one more. Obviously… not right away. He wanted a couple of years between them. Then, Poppy made him ask her how many she wanted… and she said four. He gawked. Well, as a female troll she had it easy. As a male, he was the one to pop and incubate the eggs.

Despite this, after standing through the test of the years with Fern as a parent, they decided to have another egg. Only this time, it was eggS. Two at the same time, which was rare. So, in a way, they both almost got what they wanted. During gestation, they sapped his energy so much and made him lose his entire belly and half his muscles that he promised himself there would be no more eggs.

Well, obviously, Fern didn’t get the traditional name, but when they saw their two pink princesses, they knew they had to call them Cherry and Blossom. As such, the tradition had taken a backseat but Fern did tell them he wants to revive it once he had his own family.

The two pink girls hatched exactly the same time, one in his hands, the other in Poppy’s. Despite this, the two ended up entirely different. Cherry was a ball of energy, outgoing and a charmer, while Blossom took more after him. Shy, cautious, uncertain but once she set her mind on something she didn’t stop until she fulfilled it. Both turned ten not a few weeks ago.

Branch hummed and smiled, his hand lazily touching the mug to test how hot the milk was. To think, their oldest was already thinking of family and for him, it felt like it was yesterday they all hatched. Like it was only yesterday he married the love of his life.

Something glinted in the corner of his eye when he moved to take a sip from his still hot milk, so he stopped. The troll blinked and noticed it was a picture in a frame, propped up on Poppy’s crafting table. He picked it up and a warm smile came to his lips. It was a photo from their wedding, taken during their First Dance. She was so beautiful and he looked quite dashing, if he could say so himself. They have both aged at this point, Poppy nearing her forties while he was forty-two.

It was a memory he will never forget.

Something else caught his eye, something brightly colored in the shelf of finished scrapbooks next to the table. He carefully put the picture down and reached for the brightly colored book. He put it down and opened it.

Instantly, he was flooded with memories.

It was one of their adventure books, full of pictures from some of their first years as friends, as a couple, then as fiancés. They started a new one on their wedding day.

Branch grimaced and shook his head when he found a couple of images of when he was still grey. Most of them taken without him knowing or against his consent. There were some from their trip to Bergentown as well. He looked so… annoyed and rough. But Poppy told him she liked that about him at the time. Her roguishly handsome survivalist, she called him later.

He flipped a page and saw some pictures after he regained his colors. Still fresh and bright, then some when he faded again but never truly lost them. He saw the glances they gave each other, the small blushes, their first tentative steps towards romance but still unsure. He remembered how nervous… no… terrified he was of confessing his feelings to her. How he backpedaled on multiple occasions. But seeing these pictures again, the way she looked at him and held him, it was clear she loved him deeply already. It was so obvious.

The next pages were during their trip to save the world from Queen Barb, pictures of the party after their success, after their confession. They held hands, their eyes sparkled with love and adoration. They were so young but they were learning. Photos of him taking her to their first dates. How clumsy he was, how absolutely gorgeous Poppy had been, doing her best to look pretty for him but she really didn’t need to. She was… She is beautiful without all that stuff.

Then, pages of pictures after their first kiss. Many more kisses followed. They held each other so much closer, their connection was more intimate, their colors truly glowed. They were just getting started. More dates, photos of him serenading her, of her standing on her balcony to accept it while he sang to her from the outside, under her window. The memory filled him with warmth. When was the last time he serenaded her? She loves his voice. He frowned at the thought.

And then, finally, some pages after he proposed to her. They were both absolutely glowing, almost unable to wait for the two months when their wedding happened. She showed off the proposal band he gave her in almost all pictures. Her smile was wide and happy, their eyes held that spark, that fire, the love they felt for each other.

He brushed a finger gingerly over a photo of them hugging each other close, Poppy holding out her hand to make sure the proposal band was visible. They were laughing and happy. So happy. Their eyes were sparkling with joy.

With a fond smile on his lips, Branch shifted his blue eyes from the photos towards the shelf again and pulled out another album. The one they started on their wedding day. Their adventures as a married couple and as parents. This new chapter of their life warranted the start of a new book. The first few pages were full of pictures of their wedding day. When Poppy’s older sister led him to the altar first. Then, his bride walked to him on her father’s side, clad in pure white with poppy flowers decorating her dress. He remembered how nervous he was up until that point. Then, once he saw her, he was on autopilot. Their party after was something to remember too. So many pictures of them both dancing the night away, along with their friends and her dad.

The pictures that followed were of him receiving his prince crown, then finally, the pictures of their first egg. As he flipped the pages, he saw it all. Their family got bigger, baby pictures took the forefront, some of him sleeping in various places of their pod because he dozed off while wrangling the kids all day. Poppy had a strange taste… Then, pictures with their children, sitting down and standing, smiles after smiles.

They built a cozy life in the village together.

He looked back at the first images in the first album, then back at the latest ones they took. How far they have come.

Suddenly, Branch began to lose his smile as his eyes traveled from the latest photos, then back at the first book, a contrast he didn’t see before revealing itself in front of him. There was something… off.

He saw it in the images as the time progressed.

Beaming grins morphed into warm smiles. Embraces got looser and soon replaced by holding hands or embracing their children instead. Pictures of dates and adventures got scarce and in the latest pages he found none. The lovesick gazes they gave each other were replaced by much calmer smiles towards the camera.

They built a cozy life, yes. But he wondered, as he ran his finger along another picture, where they both gazed into each other’s eyes after his proposal, where the years have gone. And what were they doing with it? His blue eyes wandered the images. They were always doing something. Their eyes were sparkling, their lips were meeting, they held each other so close… The dates, the serenades, the want, the need. The fire.

He realized… He missed it.

Heck, he didn’t even know he lost it up until now.

Yes, their life was perfect right now. Kind of. They had a stable marriage with its ups and downs, they had three beautiful smart children, they ran a kingdom as a team. But with all their duties and parenting… they had no time or energy for anything else. Then, even if they had the time when the kids grew, they were happy to call it a day early. They just… got used to everyday routine. Get up, make coffee, make breakfast, sing morning song, send Poppy to her duties, send the kids to their classes, go out to do his own thing, make lunch, go out again, make dinner, go to bed. That was what they did.

Every. Single. Day.

While his thoughts were reeling, he found his eyes frantically moving from one image to the next. Comparing, seeing, realizing.

His blue eyes wandered to the one picture with them gazing at each other again. When did Poppy look at him like that last? Yes, he felt her warmth and love every time she met his gaze, every time she smiled. But sparkles? Pure awe? Fire? Where is that teasing smile? Her tight hugs? Her touches?

Where did they go?

There was something Branch noticed in all the pictures following their confession. Whenever they posed for just themselves, her hands would be over his arms, shoulder, and especially on his chest and belly. She loved the feel of them. He wasn’t ripped like he wanted to be but he was okay. She would run her hand along his muscles just to feel them when she wanted. He looked at his pictures. How fit he was. Then, he gazed down at himself. He parted his bathrobe to take a look and all he could see was his belly. The muscles were hidden from view and from touch. When did he become like this? When did he let himself go? He touched his belly and frowned.

No wonder the fire died out. Not like he initiated much but he blamed the rarity of their intimacy to them both getting exhausted from their days. In fact, he didn’t take her rejections of his advances to heart either when he did happen to want to make love. He just accepted it. But now that he could compare his current dad bod self with his younger fit self… He wouldn’t want to touch that either. He felt horrible.

Branch sighed sadly and closed the bathrobe.

He became comfortable, he concluded. They both did. They took each other for granted, stopped going out, stopped putting effort into anything, stopped complimenting each other. Their fiery love developed and morphed into a warm cozy feeling. He thought it was perfect. He really did. But now? Now that he was confronted with the reality of their complacency…

His frown deepened.

He wanted it back. He wanted that spark again. That fire. The passion. He wanted that same love they had on their honeymoon. He wanted her to look at him with those sparkly eyes again. He wanted to take her on dates, to serenade her again.

Branch wanted Poppy back.

His sad gaze turned determined and nodded to himself. He closed the books and put them neatly where they belonged, then took a sip of his now cold milk. He grimaced at it, then looked at the clock nearby. Six in the morning. He was having an existential crisis for two entire hours.

Great. Just like old times.

He got one thing right already.

He washed the mug in the sink, then walked back to the table to clean it a bit when he grabbed their framed picture again to set it back where it was on Poppy’s crafting table. Their First Dance was something to remember. Truly a magical thing, their first dance as a married couple, a milestone in their life together. But even that wasn’t all cupcakes and rainbows. His smile faded once again when their conversation from their planning phase came back to him. Poppy wanted to dance rumba with him but he turned her down because he didn’t know the first thing about that dance and they had such a short time left to prepare. In truth, he knew enough to know that it required a lot of flashy hip movement he didn’t feel comfortable performing in front of an audience. She reassured him she was happy to dance anything with him but he felt he disappointed her back then. Even if she didn’t show it.

To think of it… Branch narrowed his eyes at the image and pursed his lips. Their fifteenth anniversary was coming up soon and not once did he take the time to learn that blasted dance. What was stopping him now? He had a couple of months to prepare. All he needed to do was find a teacher who can help him out, then plan a romantic getaway with Poppy and surprise her with it.

He closed his eyes. He could already picture it. Back on their secret clearing, their meetup spot from when they were dating. Set up a picnic. Strew around her favorite flowers, that were not Mittensettia, ask her to do their First Dance again, have Suki make a tape that starts with their music for the waltz, then switch after the first third. Take in her reaction. Dance the night away. Spring that spark. Whisk her home. Pull an all-nighter, making sure to ignite that kindling. He knew he could do better but this was their first date since… since…. How many years?

Yes. Perfect. He concluded before he could argue with himself. He may be forty-two but if the morning songs were anything to go by, he still had his dancing feet and smooth moves. Even if he was out of breath by the end.

Suddenly, his ears perked when they picked up movement from the bedroom. Poppy was waking up. He looked back at their photo and smiled. He didn’t really need to wait for their anniversary to change things. He is going to whip himself into shape before the big day. He is going to put effort into himself. When was the last time he used hair gel? Was he really only using one type of cologne, knowing people get used to it and not smell it anymore? Poppy must be immune at this point. He had an assortment stashed away in his bunker from the time people gifted him some when they didn’t know what to give him. He will think of his wife more, like he used to, surprise her with small things that used to coax out that breathtaking happy smile of hers. He would take her on dates again every week after their anniversary and have Biggie (as the only responsible adult in the village they trusted with babysitting) watch the kids for them. He will serenade her on her upcoming birthday.

Smiling, fresh with a plan, or multiple plans, he walked into their bedroom and once he saw Poppy sit up on their bed, he quickly sat next to her. He leaned in as she said her good morning to him and pushed his lips against hers in a deep passionate kiss. He felt his face flush and his heart thundered in his chest once again. He felt and heard her squeak at the unexpected ‘attack’ but she returned it once the initial shock wore off. They only parted once they felt they were out of breath.

Poppy gazed at him with a surprised, although slightly confused look and he just gazed into those beautiful magenta eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful!” He whispered, still out of breath.

The smile she gave him in return and that glint in her eyes was worth the cold milk and the sleepless night.

Every. Single. Second of it.