This, this is one of my favorite screenshots. That smug look on Bog’s face gets me every time. And just how broad his shoulders are and how skinny his waist is. I love me (1) one dragonfly man :D
“The key thing, Boggy, is to remember to breathe.”
“Bog.”
“Yes, that was a very good exhale. Now breathe in again.”
“Are you positive she’ll like it?” Bog asked. He had asked it at least eight times in the last half hour and he was annoying even himself by doing it but couldn’t stop. “I’m not familiar with your holiday customs . . .”
“Ah! But I am an expert!” Dawn said standing proudly with her chin out. “Anything there is to know about holidays, presents, or general mushy stuff, I’ve got your answers.”
“That’s . . .” Bog hesitated, crossing his arms.
“Which is why I also know the exact right amount of mush for my sister. Through extensive observation I know her level of tolerance to the last detail. Marianne will never admit to it but she likes a moderate amount of lovey-dovey mush. Trust me.”
“Your idea of ‘moderate’ might be higher than that of others, princess. I’d never heard so many romantic songs until I met you.”
“Pff.” Dawn scoffed, “Your tolerance level is too low to argue with my expertise. Now,” Dawn grabbed Bog’s arms and turned him toward the castle, “Go knock her dead!”
“I’d rather find a log to hide under.”
“But you won’t! Because your love is too strong!” Dawn started pushing him forward. Bog’s feet slid a little. “You are the great and mighty Bog King who held up a collapsing castle to save a fair maiden! You will not be conquered by nerves!”
“Get--get off!” Bog jumped away, buzzing his wings to settle them. “I’m going, I’m going!”
“Yay!” Dawn clapped her hands, “I believe in you, Boggy-bear!”
“Save your pet names for the elf.” Bog grimaced.
“Oh, there’s plenty left for him.” Dawn giggled. “I go easy on you, you know.”
Bog shuddered. “Better him than me. Have a good time.” Bog absently patted Dawn’s hand before he took to the air before she could continue encouraging him.
________________________________________________
Bog hovered outside Marianne’s rooms and knocked on the stone arch of her window. It was a very soft knock. Marianne did not appear. Bog wiggled his fingers uncertainly before curling them and rapping with his knuckles again, a little louder.
Marianne popped up so suddenly that Bog dipped down in surprise before he got his wings back in order.
“Hi.” Bog said.
“Hi.” Marianne said. She looked flustered and hurried.
“Did I come at a bad time--?”
“No!” Marianne burst out, making Bog dip down again. “Not at all. Come in!”
Bog did, ducking his head to fit through the window. He leaned his staff by the window. It slid down and hit the floor. He grabbed at it as it fell, missed, and failed to get a grip on it twice before he could pick it up again. The package in his other hand kept getting in the way.
“Here, let me.” Marianne took his staff and put it with her sword. Bog knew there was a spot to put his staff. He always put it there. He didn’t know why he suddenly forgot. He felt terribly unsettled and far too big for the dainty fairy room.
“Thanks . . .” Bog said faintly. He looked around, not really taking anything in. On a delicate table there were bits and pieces of leaves, petals, and twigs, all in various stages of destruction. It looked like someone had been hacking them apart with a blunt knife.
“Just a silly project!” Marianne slid in front of the table, wings spreading out to block Bog’s view, “nothing important! How’ve you been?”
“Uh.”
“How’s Griselda? How’s--how’s the forest?”
“Good. The forest--Griselda--all good. Doing good.”
“Good!”
They stared at each other with fixed smiles.
Marianne’s too bright smile dropped and she dropped her head into her hand. “Ugh. Can I be any more awkward? Answer truthfully.”
“I’m not sure how much is me and how much is you.” Bog said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Marianne ran her hands through her hair and threw her head back. “Why? Why am I doing this? It’s just a day. A stupid day that’s no big deal.”
“Depends on your point of view.” Bog said, looking at the package he was holding.
“Lemme start again.” Marianne pushed Bog back to the window, making him sit down there. She nodded, “Good. Now . . .” she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. He wasn’t surprised but he was still surprised, somehow, and felt himself falling backwards. He caught himself and his wings kept him from falling further out the window while he wrapped his arm around Marianne and kissed her back. They were kept busy for some time.
“Hi.” Marianne said when they stopped, reaching up to rub a smudge of purple from his lips.
“Hi.” Bog said softly, feeling much happier and much less jittery.
There was another break in conversation. Some time later Marianne asked, “Did Dawn send you here to do something mushy?”
Bog laughed nervously, fingers fidgeting on Marianne’s back. “She was actually just sort of a consultant.
“I think you mean ‘instigator’. I don’t see any flowers or chocolates on you so she can’t have done too much damage.” she frowned at the package suspiciously.
Standing, Bog bowed deeply and held the long narrow gift out to her.
“Stop.” Marianne smacked his arm then snatched the gift. It was wrapped up in fresh leaves and tied up with a small strip from a blade of grass. “You really didn’t have to, you know . . .”
“You always want to learn things about the Dark Forest and how we do things . . . it seemed like this holiday was important so I wanted to . . . reciprocate.”
“It’s not important.” she mumbled. “it’s just silly romantic stuff.”
“Everyone in your kingdom are celebrating this holiday . . . I didn’t want you to be left out as if . . . as if you weren’t loved.” Bog knew he was blushing and not making much sense, but he struggled on, “I want them to know I love you and respect your traditions. What’s important is . . . you.”
“Bog . . .” Marianne said softly.
“Please, just open your gift and tell me if you hate it or not.” Bog said quickly.
The layers of leaves fell away and Bog once again beheld his choice of gift and felt a qualm. Marianne held the sword in the last leaf, casting her eyes over it with an expression Bog couldn’t read.
“We try not to make our weapons shiny, that’s why the blade is black,” Bog said, “it’s not old, it’s new, it’s supposed to look like that--”
“Shut up.” Marianne said, still looking at the sword. Her fingers traced over the hilt’s decorations of roses and winding thorns. She tilted it and sharp thin lines on the blade caught the light. “It says . . .” Marianne turned it for a better look, “’A queen as vivid as roses, sharp as thorns.’”
The engraved words shone on the black blade, roses engraved at the beginning and end of the inscription. Bog’s stomach churned as Marianne fell into silence.
“Bog?”
“Yes!” Bog’s shoulders rattled as he stood up straight.
“This is the most--the most romantic thing I have ever been given.”
Bog’s heart fell and was washed nauseatingly around in his churning stomach. “i’m so--”
“I love it.”
“--sorry. What?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s incredible.”
The condition of Bog’s heart and stomach took a turn for the better. “Truly?”
Marianne laid the sword reverently on a table in its wrapping. She turned back around, eyes sparkling and cheeks pink. With one finger she gestured for Bog to lean down. He did so. Marianne threw her arms around Bog’s neck. “I love it. Really, truly.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Bog’s whole body relaxed and he slumped further down, resting his face on Marianne’s shoulder, smiling broadly.
“How am I supposed to meet this standard?” Marianne punched his shoulder. “This is awful! I spent all week trying to--well it doesn’t matter what, because I failed.”
Looking over Marianne’s shoulder, Bog saw the table she had tried to hide earlier, taking in the mutilated flowers. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking. “You were trying to make a boutonniere, tough girl?”
“No!” Marianne pushed his face away from the table. “I didn’t make anything or get you anything because I hate you!”
“Very bold, not playing to your strengths.”
“Excuse me, I need to go break in my new sword. On your scaly carcass.”
Bog just laughed and picked her up, holding her in his arms. “I’ll take your week of suffering as a very touching gift.”
“But that’s so lame. I wanted to give you something--something as wonderful as that sword.”
Bog gave this some thought. “Hm. Well, the moon is almost full tonight, you know. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a flight through the forest?”
“Of course I would! But that’s just another gift for me!”
“Maybe so, but it’s what I want. The pleasure of your company.”
“Fine.” Marianne relaxed in Bog’s arms, “but next year’s gift from me to you will knock your socks off, got it?”
“Socks?”
“They’re--it doesn’t matter. Just kiss me.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Bog said, then granted her request.
(too lazy to think of a world appropriate substitute for Valentines day *peace sign*)
Dawn, Bog and the Sugar Plum Queen try to come up with a plan how to save a lovedusted Marianne.
Chapter index on Ao3
From the small, enclosed landing, an open doorway led into an office lit by orange glowstones and, just now, the Sugar Plum Queen’s own glow. She had settled behind the big, scratched-up desk that faced the other entrance, a proper door, hovering just above the chair set there, playing at sitting in it despite being not bound by gravity.
Bog pulled up two chairs for Dawn and himself, noting that there had been only slight changes in this room. The honeycombed walls were still mostly holding scrolls and ledgers. Aura had merely brought in some small plants that now nested in hazelnut or chestnut shells in some of the cells.
Dawn thanked him with a nod and sat in a studied pose, spine erect and hands on her lap.
The Sugar Plum Queen waved negligently. “So tell me those news. This should be interesting.”
“Sir Roland Green used the love potion you gave him on Marianne. Against her will.”
“Oh well. I’m sure she doesn’t mind right now.” Aura leaned forward, bunching her hands under her chin, and her voice fell into a singsong. “Falling in loooove is such a wonderful feeling.”
Bog scoffed, but it was Dawn who kept talking, her voice now sharp. “But she would mind if she were in her right mind.” Then even a sarcastic tone crept in. “However, if you don’t care about that, you should consider that once being married to the crown princess, or maybe even the queen, gives him the required authority, Roland is going to invade the Dark Forest!”
Aura’s sparkly brows rose up close to her blue crown, and her lips pursed, showing no hint of a smile.
“No love-potion, no marriage. No marriage, no war.” Dawn leaned forward and pointed to Aura with one hand. “We need an antidote!”
The Sugar Plum Queen floated forward until she hit the edge of the table and raised her hands in a harsh gesture. “Too bad there is no antidote.”
“Are you serious?” Bog rumbled.
“Yes. There is none. The potion wears off on its own.” She looked up and her fingers ran through a rippling gesture. “In a fairy… it should take about a year.” Bog gave Princess Dawn a sideways glance. She seemed surprised, too. “The idea is to give a wanted relationship a smooth start, long enough to grow into something more solid than infatuation, you know.”
Dawn bit her lip, looking at the ceiling while calculating. “Marianne has been like this since Midsumer, and the wedding is planned for next Spring.” Her voice rose in pitch, going tight. “That’s too early.”
“Princess, what about exposing Roland? Would Dagda allow the marriage to go forward if he knew the… love was a sham?”
“I tried to tell him, but he didn’t believe me. Marianne acts a lot like just before the wedding she cancelled.”
“A fairy in love cancelled a wedding?” Bog burst out.
“I know, right? Er, that was a wedding with Roland that she called off. On the day it was supposed to happen. She was wearing her bridal dress already and everything. It’s why I’m absolutely certain she does not want to marry Roland.”
“I’m convinced.” Aura spoke quickly. “Considering the threat of possible war, it would probably be best if Bog took back his throne. I’m not much of a war person.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, No?” Aura flitted across the table, leaning into Bog’s face. “You can’t do this to me!”
Bog raised both hands in a warding gesture and spoke as calmly as he could. “I can advise you, and there are others–”
“Forget the war!” She spread her arms and seemed to grow, or maybe grow brighter, her cool blue light crowding out the warm orange from the lamps. “I can’t take the dreariness any longer. Every other thing I need to decide on is petty nonsense, and the paperwork, the paperwork! It’s maddening!”
Bog couldn’t keep a grin off his face, crossed one leg over the other, and folded his hands. Sweetly, he asked, “Isn’t it just? So why would I want it back?”
“Bog… do you really–” The feeling in Dawn’s voice - hurt, disappointment, something - washed all amusement out of Bog’s mood and from his demeanour. He sat up and gestured to her.
“The problem is that I’m not certain I’m capable.” He nodded in Dawn’s direction. “You noticed. Being surrounded by a crowd left me unable to speak for confusion. I don’t know how fast and how well I will, hrm, heal from that.” He shrugged, a gesture that with his pauldrons was particularly eloquent.
The Sugar Plum Queen looked at him, back behind the desk, lips flat and eyes narrowed. “In that case... maybe the easiest way to avoid war would be handing the Amber to Roland.”
“What?!” Bog jumped to his feet and went into a crouch, wings twitching, ready to attack. “Are you mad?”
“I’m just thinking of the good of the people of this realm. A war will cost many lives, and he doesn’t have to conquer what he already owns.”
“I’m not sure,” Dawn piped up, “but I don’t think it’s the owning he cares about. He talks about glorious battles and fights so much…”
“What a lovable character,” Bog sneered, his claws leaving a few more scratches in the desk. With a sound halfway between a sigh and a snarl, he straightened up, then addressed Aura. “Unless things are a lot more different now than I knew them, it would never work. The goblins would revolt.”
“All right all right. Let’s keep it as last option in case everything else fails, maybe. So how to prevent the marriage? Is there someone else she might have been almost in love with?”
“Why?” Dawn’s eyes looked bigger than ever.
“The potion doesn’t work, or its effect is ended early, if the target is already in love with someone else. Failsafe, see?”
“A working antidote would be a better failsafe,” Bog groused. Since the study was too small to pace effectively, he had settled again.
“That would just put the decision about these things in someone else’s hands. Plus, there just isn’t one that works. There have been many attempts, and the only promising ones involved erasing the victim’s whole personality, for ever, and we don’t want that, do we.”
“No!”
“Good. So, candidate for potion-effect-breaking?”
Dawn shook her head slowly. “Really not. She’d sworn she’d never fall in love again.”
“Sounds like a very sensible person, for a fairy princess.” Bog had to let off steam somehow.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re brave. Sensible, I’m not sure about. Consider where you are right now.” Dawn leaned back a little when Bog gestured in her direction with a clawed hand.
Aura rested her finger tips against her forehead and temples. “Bog, I don’t believe I’m saying that to you, but let’s focus!”
“Oh, all right, your majesty.” He gave her a hint of a bow and cleared his throat before continuing matter-of-factly. “I guess there isn’t any chance of getting Dagda to pressure her into marrying someone else for political reasons, is there? You fairies still do that sometimes?”
“Uhh.” Dawn leaned away from Bog again, lips curled in disgust. “Yeah, political marriages are a thing, but not very common. But Roland is third in line for the Duchy of Green Glenn, and the two before him are married or engaged already. Any any other candidates are either kids, or old, or married, or prefer guys, so there is no better match at the moment.” A corner of her mouth twitched up and she gave a courtly nod in Bog’s direction. “Well, maybe apart from the King of the Dark Forest.”
Bog’s eyes went huge, his skin even more gray-green than it was, and his mind absolutely blank.
Aura giggled.
Dawn gave a helpless little shrug. “Anyway, I don’t think Father would force Marianne into a political marriage. He wants her happy.”
Bog muttered, “But forcing her into a marriage using love potion is all right?”
“She does seem happy.” Bog’s distaste must have come through, for Dawn repeated her shrug. “I don’t like it either, it’s just what it looks like if you ignore how much she loathed Roland. She seems just like she used to be before. Father thinks she’s finally come to her senses.”
Aura floated up and got their attention with an expansive gesture. “All right, then. No-one she’s likely to fall in love with for real, no-one to marry her to prevent her from marrying Roland. And her father revoking permission for the marriage just after being told she’s under a spell is out, too, because he already knows.”
“What a father.”
“Shush, unless you have a productive suggestion.”
Bog took a deep breath to tamp down his temper. “Have you picked up on anything else that could convince Dagda that Roland is a scoundrel rather than a suitable groom?”
Dawn shook her head.
Bog harrumped, and after short consideration asked, “How do you feel about assassination?”
Dawn considered for a rather long time. “I don’t think I could actually kill anyone…”
“I meant more generally–”
“That is a cute idea, and Dawn rather looks the part right now, but there are two problems with it. First, if any thing, just the smallest thing went wrong and it came out the Dark Forest was linked to it, we would have a war, anyway. And second, if Roland died or disappeared, Marianne might waste away from heartbreak, or go flitting off trying to find him and get herself eaten by a crow. The love potion is powerful.”
Bog groaned. This was impossible. “So what about kidnapping her and keeping her prisoner until the potion wears off? Same danger?”
“Yes, plus it’s also not particularly conductive to the diplomatic links we’ve been trying to forge.”
“If done right, no-one needs to know where she is.” Bog looked at Dawn. “If someone she trusts lures her away. There are enough secret places in the Dark Forest where a prisoner could be kept hidden.”
“Very risky. If the secret get out, we’re looking at a war, after all.”
“Not that risky. If– sorry, Princess, but, If Dagda found out we had his daughter and heir, he would know attacking the Forest would mean putting her in danger.”
“Even if, that leaves the same risk as before, keeping her away from Roland might break her heart. Someone who is lovedusted is obsessed with the object of their affections, wanting to be close to them, doing whatever makes them happy...”
Bog grumped, and all three of them fell silent for a few moments.
Dawn, who had been chewing her knuckles, spoke first. “Maybe we can use that. If she believes Roland wants her far from him, temporarily...” Her brows knit and face drawn in unaccustomed lines, she slowly laid out pieces of a plan that the Sugar Plum Queen and the former Bog King agreed might just work.
At least they could not come up with anything better.
Bog meets Marianne under more normal circumstances, but has no idea how to court a fairy. Fortunately, this elf seems familiar with their ways, and a little ghost writing is a small punishment for trespassing. Even if Bog keeps having to change edit the frequent references to blue eyes.
Meanwhile, Marianne thinks these letters from the Bog King are nothing but flowery tripe and prefers his salty snark over mock battles. Dawn, however, is completely enchanted, moreso by the idea that such a poetic soul is hiding beneath an unromantic facade. If Marianne doesn’t want him, Dawn will take him!
