to cross paths
“I wish you would write a fic where Bog King is the Bog Prince, aka all the missing parents are present, but the canon plot line still happens.” - bifacialler
(Heaven is my OC for Marianne and Dawn’s mother. Read about her here: carnations & chrysanthemums// skies and red strings// drizzle// The Southern Beaches)
It’s on nights like these that she hates the Light Fields. There is no gentle ocean waves to soothe her heart, no salty sea breeze to cool her temper. Trading her shield for a crown was not easy, but when the air remains still and faces do not change, she feels like she’s drowning.
(Which can’t actually happen because she’s the only fairy in the Northern Kingdom who can actually swim. Isn’t it weird to have leathery and scaly wings?)
But it’s nights like these where Heaven, Royal Knight of the Southern Beaches, wonders if she is truly meant to be Queen.
Tossing and turning in bed for the final time, she slips off the flower cushion in search of a tunic and a pair of trousers. In the dark, she dresses and mulls over differentiating traditions from here and from home. Despite what the court ladies keep trying to tell her, ball gowns and dresses just aren’t for her. How can she fight and protect her future King and husband with a full skirt and high heels?
Grabbing her sword from its hanger, she peeks out her door, checking for guards. With a steady breath, she can hear them playing cards a few doors down, the night calm and their boredom apparent. Part of her wants to march right up to them and reprimand them for leaving their posts and forgoing their duties, but another part of her is happy that she can slip out easily tonight.
With silent steps, like how she was taught to move, she glides through the hall to the skylight. Slinking from pillar to pillar, she decides that she really needs to have a chat with the Captain of the Royal Guard–there are too many loose ends in this security.
“Northerns. Go figure,” she mutters to the shadows.
But Heaven grins at how easily she is able to escape the palace as she pushes herself forward into the air, her blue and gold wings beating like gentle waves. Her wing speed increases the higher she goes and for a brief moment, the chains from the aristocracy shatter the closer she is to the sky. The sweet taste of freedom pacifies her soul, making that first breath alone flavored by ambrosia.
“Finally!” she shouts and with a laugh, she is darting through the fields, flying for what feels like the first time in forever.
The Light Fields isn’t the same as the sea she knows, but the moon is still the same, the light reflecting beautifully over the collecting dew on the grass. Her heart cries to hear waves crash upon cliffs, for the spray to mist her wings, but the creek babbles and crickets sing.
It’s good enough, she thinks. There is still music in this land.
Though her night flight must come to end when she reaches the primroses, a sigh escaping her lips as the Dark Forest looms over her. Be careful, she can hear her fiance say, goblins can be unpredictable.
Heaven purses her lips at the thought, realizing that that can be true. Even Xu has said herself, the she-goblin warning her to always approach her kind with caution.
Not all goblins are as friendly as me, the trader warned her many times. But not all goblins are scary either.
Maybe its the act of rebellion that carries her forward and maybe its because the first time since she has been in the North, she finally feels wholly like herself, but Heaven continues forward, daring to see the Dark Forest with her own eyes and make her own opinions.
With a brave heart, courage thumping against her ribs, she dashes through the brambles, wickedness feeling exciting as she does the opposite of what she’s told.
She tries not to giggle as she races through the forest, her eyes absorbing the sights of moss and flowers she can’t name. She sees spider silk webs and hears noises she can’t place. Everything feels so alive, the forest buzzing like a heartbeat and she feels like she’s a part of it.
Now this is living, she thinks, her mind comparing to the unnaturalness of court life, the stiff attitude of the nobles reminding her of rocks.
Yet the forest is loud, life moving as the moon moves higher in the sky, the ruckus more like a day on the port when the traders all come. The music here is so alive.
She hums to herself as she flutters, taking in the sights. Truly, the Dark Forest is beautiful in the way it is to be underwater in the kelp. There is a rhythm and a sway and freedom to dance. She doesn’t feel trapped here and it finally hits her like a blunt blow across her chest that’s what she dislikes about the Light Fields.
She feels too exposed, naked without her armor, chained to expectations of proper etiquette. At court, she feels too vulnerable, like an animal on display.
Her mind is lost to this revelations, things making more sense as seconds tick by. Her heart tears in half as she comes to realize this, chewing the inside of her cheek as she descends to curl on a branch.
How can I be Queen? How can I live that life? I just want the sea and the sky…
The thoughts just race in her head and the once pleasant sounds of the forest seem to loud for her to be. She wants to go home, she misses the sea, she misses her family. She just can’t be Queen.
Red strings aren’t everything…
“Found you!’
Her head pops up from the nestled spot on her knees. Hazel eyes go wide at the sight of a little creature with a sharp nose and sky blue eyes with fluttering clear wings.
She blinks slowly, her erratic thoughts ceasing. “What?”
He flies a little closer, iridescent wings glowing in the moonlight. “I said,” he huffs, his chest puffed out in pride, “I found you.”
She sits up straighter, looking around and points at her chest. “Found me?”
Little sharp teeth grin, “Aye you.” He sticks out a little claw, “C’mon!”
Unpredictable is right, she thinks, but she smiles. Grabbing his hand, she asks, “Who are you, little guy?”
His sharp nails prick her fleshy hand. “I’m not a little guy!” he corrects. She tries not to laugh, but he continues. “I’m The Bog Prince.”
“Bog Prince?”
His wings are buzzing, almost as if he’s sprinting to keep up with her, but his grip never loosens as he drags her in the air.
“Yep! And my pa is The Bog King.”
Her heart hammers in her chest. The Bog King?! Everyone has heard stories about how protective the king is of his son and here she is being dragged by his little goblin self to who knows where.
She swallows thick, fear settling in her stomach. “Does your father know I’m here?”
“Mmmhmm.”
Oh skies. Before she can make a run for it, she hears a deep voice shout from above.
“Ah! Boggy you found her!”
Boggy? Did The Bog King just call his son Boggy?
Yet she can’t even complicate what that means as The Bog King himself flies down to meet them, gesturing for them to land on a branch, landing before her with an open smile. His eyes are just as bright and blue, his expression kind. He looms over her, but she doesn’t feel threatened.
“…you’re unlike any royal I’ve ever met…”
Her eyes go wide as she realizes that she said that out loud, but the King laughs, sharp teeth in a grin like his child’s. “Well, we goblins aren’t like you fairies.” He pauses for a moment, looking at her quizzically. “Though you’re not like the other ones, are you?”
Sheepishly, she fiddles with her long braid. “What gave me away?”
He smirks, “Well, for one you’re in my forest.” Her face reddens and he chuckles. “And your wings aren’t the same.”
She shakes her head and she desperately wishes she knew how to greet a goblin king. Maybe those court ladies were on to something after all.
“I’m from the south….”
The little claw in her hand squeeze her a bit. Bog Prince asks, “Are you the Crown Prince’s intended?”
She looks down at him and sees the rough texture on his head, almost like fine hair. He’s looking at her with such honest and innocent eyes and her heart aches for her baby sister.
She can’t help but smooth a hand over his head and she smiles when he looks happier. “I am.”
The little one blushes and he ducks away to his father’s side. “You’ll make a pretty bride…”
His father laughs and grabs his son close to his side. “You’re too young to be flirtin’, son!”
“Pa!”
But The Bog King looks away from his child and looks back at Heaven. She notices now that he’s carrying a large staff with a pretty stone in the middle, but despite the large weapon, his stance is safe.
“You should be getting home now, lassie,” he lightly scolds. “The Forest ain’t safe for fairies.”
Embarrassment floods her cheeks, “Yes, sir.”
“We’ll take you to the primroses”
They fly slowly for the boy, but despite the comfortable silence, questions spring from her tongue.
“Bog King?”
“Aye?”
“Do you ever feel trapped?”
His eyes soften, his grin wistful. He looks towards his boy again and then back at her. “I used to. Till my wife. Till him.”
The words only sit on the surface of her mind, the answer almost in reach.
He clears his throat. “I hear you and the Prince are a love match. So, don’t worry–love makes you free.”
“But…”
He repeats, his look stern. “Love makes you free.”
Red string, red string, tie me to thee.
Primrose petals glow bright pink over the horizon and the palace isn’t too far beyond. Her mind shifts to Dagda and her stomach squirms, knowing that he’s asleep waiting for tomorrow to see her.
“Thank you for seeing me here,” she says simply.
He laughs again while the boy yawns. “Anything for a new friend.” He motions towards the fairy kingdom, “Now go home and go be with your man. And don’t forget the sky is always open.”
And for the first time, her heart feels the most at peace.
With a wave and goodbye to the king and to Boggy, she flies off towards the fairy palace. Looking over her shoulder, she sees the two goblins becoming smaller in the distance, and breathing has never felt easier.
Being Queen doesn’t mean I can’t be me.