Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun rose high over Trolls Beach, turning the golden sands into a glowing path that stretched beside a sea of glittering turquoise. The air shimmered with heat and happiness, and each gentle wave that rolled onto the shore sang like a lullaby composed just for the moment.

Poppy’s pink curls were tied up into two playful buns, and she wore a flower-patterned sundress that fluttered in the ocean breeze. Branch walked beside her, a rare smile gracing his usually reserved face. He wore teal swim trunks and a short-sleeved shirt Poppy had picked out for him — covered in tiny pineapples.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to a whole day at the beach,” she teased, giving his hand a gentle swing.

Branch chuckled, squeezing her fingers. “I still can’t believe you tricked me into thinking we were going to a ‘survival training retreat.’”

Poppy gasped dramatically. “Hey! I said it was emotionally restorative.”

He laughed — a soft, warm sound that only Poppy got to hear these days.

Their fingers stayed laced as they strolled barefoot along the shoreline, waves lapping gently over their toes. Seagulls swooped above them, and in the distance, a pod of colorful dolphin-trolls jumped from the sea like living rainbows.

As they walked, Poppy paused to collect pretty seashells. Branch helped her find the ones with pearly blue swirls, the kind she said reminded her of lullaby clouds.

After a while, she sat down on a sun-warmed rock, placing the shells into a small woven pouch.

Branch knelt beside her. “Do you remember when we were younger and we used to race along the cliffs above the sea?”

“Yeah,” she said with a giggle. “You always won because you cheated.”

“Strategically outmaneuvered you,” he corrected smugly.

Poppy leaned her head on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her. “I’m glad we’re here now, just… being.”

Branch rested his chin lightly on her hair. “Me too.”

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in the rhythm of waves and heartbeats, the sun soaking their skin and the closeness of each other grounding them like anchors in the sand.

After finishing their walk, they found a perfect little cove tucked between two glittering rock formations. Poppy squealed in delight. “This is the spot! Look, the sand is all glittery! It sparkles like confetti!”

Branch set down the picnic basket he’d packed—though Poppy had helped. Well, “helped” in the way only Poppy could: mostly by adding sprinkles and flower-shaped fruit.

They laid out a blanket beneath a giant pink umbrella made of palm fronds, and as they unpacked the food, Poppy pulled out a surprise: two matching shell necklaces she’d made earlier that morning.

“One for you,” she said, looping his around his neck, “and one for me.”

Branch looked down at the seashell that now rested against his chest. “We match,” he murmured.

“We belong,” she corrected, smiling brightly.

They shared sandwiches, fruit, and coconut slushies while the waves rolled in, giggling as a tiny crab tried to steal a watermelon slice.

Then came Poppy’s favorite part.

“Time to build the most epic sandcastle Troll Village has ever seen,” she declared, grabbing a small pail and a glittery shovel.

Branch raised an eyebrow. “You do remember the last one collapsed because you put a flag on top that was taller than the whole castle.”

“That was artistic expression, thank you very much.”

This time, they worked together more carefully. Branch focused on building solid foundations and straight walls, while Poppy added turrets, heart-shaped windows, and moats filled with seashells and seaweed “water.” She even made tiny trolls out of sand and gave them kelp-hair.

“It’s… incredible,” Branch admitted, brushing a few grains off his hands. “Looks like a royal castle.”

Poppy beamed. “Maybe it is a royal castle. For a queen and her brave knight.”

Branch tilted his head. “You think I’d make a good knight?”

She turned to him, brushing a speck of sand off his cheek. “You already are. You’ve protected more hearts than you know — especially mine.”

His breath caught. For a second, the world faded. Just her eyes, the sun behind her, and that feeling in his chest that he used to be afraid of — now, it was everything.

“Come on,” Poppy whispered, voice suddenly gentle. “Let’s go cool off in the water.”

They ran, hand in hand, laughing down the shoreline before splashing into the waves.

Poppy dove under first, popping back up with a sparkle of water on her lashes. “Come on, Branch! The water’s amazing!”

He hesitated at first — then ran full speed, cannonballing in with a splash so big it soaked Poppy head to toe.

“Branch!” she squealed.

He grinned. “Oops.”

“Oh, it’s on!”

What followed was a joyful water battle — splashing, chasing, diving under and surprising each other with sneak attacks. Poppy’s laughter echoed over the sea, wild and free, and Branch’s rare but sincere chuckles chased after it like wind catching a kite.

At one point, she swam up behind him and tugged him under, only for them both to come up laughing uncontrollably, their arms wrapped around each other.

“I’ve never seen you have this much fun in water,” Poppy said, brushing wet hair from his eyes.

“I’ve never had a reason to,” Branch replied, looking at her like she was the reason the sun was shining.

The moment lingered. Their faces inches apart, waves gently rocking them, sunlight glinting off the surface of the water. Slowly, Poppy leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For letting me in.”

Branch blinked, and then smiled — that real, vulnerable smile only she got to see.

“I think you were always in. I just didn’t know it.”

As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in glowing streaks of tangerine, lilac, and coral, the two Trolls returned to the sand. They wrapped themselves in a shared towel and cuddled close beneath the umbrella.

Poppy rested her head against his chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” she murmured.

Branch looked down at her, his fingers gently tracing circles on her arm. “I hope so. I want this. Not just the beach, not just the perfect day — you.”

She lifted her gaze, eyes shining. “Then it’s a promise. You and me. No matter what.”

They linked pinkies — their way of sealing sacred vows — and then sat in silence, watching the waves roll in, content just to be together.

Later that night, as the stars emerged and fireflies danced around them, Poppy strummed a small ukulele Branch had secretly packed. The song she played was soft, dreamy — about days that feel like forever and hearts that hum in harmony.

Branch, sitting beside her, added his voice — low and sweet — blending perfectly with hers. It was a quiet duet, just for them, sung to the stars and the sea.

When the final note faded into the air, Poppy leaned in and pressed her forehead against his.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Branch smiled. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything.”

They kissed, the ocean as their witness, the moon casting silver over the sand.

And in that moment, everything — every glittering grain, every echo of laughter, every heartbeat between them — felt exactly right.