Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

King Dagda, ruler of the Summerfield Kingdom to the West, paced the sitting room with nervous energy. His wife was in labor in their bedroom with their first child and the physician and nurses had chased him out of the room when his wife's screams of labor had turned to ones of real pain. Dagda hadn't wanted to leave, but the doctor insisted, telling him that right now his presence would only get in the way.

When the continued sounds of his wife's pain became too much to bear—especially when he couldn't be in there with her—Dagda had gone down the hall to the royal sitting room, one of the few royal family chambers that was off limits to the rest of the staff, except for a few trusted servants. He had gone there to pace. The high windows of the chamber looked out onto the city below that surrounded the castle. His people were waiting with baited breath for the news of the baby too. His wife Lily, had been struggling for all the years of their marriage to conceive. She had done everything she could, from potions to wild remedies. They had both even seen a young woman, a traveling hedgewitch for anything that would help them conceive...and it had worked. But now, his wife...Dagda closed his eyes in pain. It would not be worth having an heir if he lost his wife and he didn't want to be forced to choose, for either choice would kill him.

Dagda halted his pacing to lean forward with his hands on either side of the long picture window, the colors from the satin glass above him casting light over his features and along his blonde hair and beard in a rainbow of cheery colors as he prayed, prayed for his dear wife and their unborn child, prayed that some deity would save them both. He closed his eyes in pain when there was a soft knock at the chamber's door.

The door opened a crack and the head of the royal staff, Harold, the royal butler, stuck his head in and said softly. “Sire?” In addition to being one of the king's most trusted aides, the man had been part of Dagda's family for as long as the monarch could remember; he was like a father to Dagda. Dagda turned around, his features pale, his green eyes filled with worry and pain, all of which combined to make him look far older than he actually was, the shadows under his eyes adding years. “Harold?”

The older man smiled, the mass of wrinkles that made up his face seemed to suddenly fall away when he smiled. “King Dagda. You have a daughter, sire.” Harold pushed the door open and walked in carrying a tiny bundle in his arms. Dagda felt his breath leave his body as he walked slowly toward Harold, his eyes large and round as he stared at the tiny bundle wrapped in a blanket consisting of the royal colors, purple and blue. Dagda stopped when he stood in front of the older man; he didn't move at first, staring at the bundle unable to see what was wrapped within. Dagda looked up meeting the older man's gaze.

“Lily?”

Harold smiled. “She is tired, sire, and will need much rest, but she is fine. She insisted I bring you your daughter.” Harold put his arms out toward Dagda, holding the tiny bundle. The king delicately took the bundle from Harold, his arms shaking slightly as he did so. “My...my daughter?” he asked looking from the bundle to his butler. The man smiled encouragingly.

The tiny bundle in his arms began to squirm. Dagda pulled the blanket away from the baby's face and felt his breath leave him once more as he looked at the most beautiful, sweetest face he had ever seen in his life. The little baby was chubby, with big dark blue eyes, a tiny mouth with wisps of dark hair around her nearly perfect round head. The baby screwed her little upturned nose and began to make little noises of discontent. Dagda reached down a shaking hand and stroked her little fat cheek. The baby moved toward his hand, chubby little hands reaching for him blindly. Dagda moved his finger closer and she grabbed on, her little mouth finding his finger and started to suck happily on the tip of her father's finger.

Dagda had tears running freely down his cheeks, but his smile was wide. He continued to stare down at his daughter while she vigorously sucked at the tip of his finger.

“Look at her Harold...she's perfect.” Dagda's voice was full of awe.

Harold smiled. “Yes, she is sire. Queen Lily would like to name her Marianne, after her mother.”

Dagda smiled, his eyes never leaving the baby's face. “Marianne...my little Marianne.”

Marianne started to fuss when she realized there was no milk coming from the thing she was sucking on so vigorously, but the fussy sounds were the most beautiful sounds the king had ever heard.

Dagda grinned. “Let's go see momma, my little Marianne.”

*

Six months later Lily was sitting on the throne dressed in a bright purple dress of silk and satin, her rich brown hair styled around her diamond crown, though at the moment she was breast feeding their daughter. The throne room had been cleared of petitioners, courtiers and other members of the court not deemed neceassy when the little princess became fussy and hungry so that the Queen could feed their daughter in private.

While everyone waited for the princess to be fed, Dagda sat on his throne reading over the papers sent by Queen Griselda of the Dark Forest Kingdom far, far to the north. “Lily darling, Queen Griselda just sent us the most interesting proposal.”

Lily was smiling down at their daughter when she looked up. “Yes dear? Oh Griselda!! We haven't seen her and her son in ages!!”

“Well, Griselda's letter actually involves her son,” Dagda said with a grin.

Lily gasped. “He's all right isn't he? He's only what...four now?”

Dagda laughed. “Oh the boy is fine. According to Griselda's letter the boy is tall for his age and smart as a whip though terribly shy. And he just turned six...the same day that Marianne was born.”

Lily gasped. “Oh my goodness, I completely forgot! We did send a gift didn't we? I was so involved with the pregnancy I didn't...”

“Yes, yes Lily, all that was taken care of. Dear that is why we have staff,” Dagda said softly with an amused smile.

Lily made a face at him, switching Marianne to her other breast. “So you said she has a proposal?”

“Yes, yes she does. She suggests here that we marry our children together to unite our kingdoms.”

“What? I don't...” Lily started, but Dagda's easy smile calmed her down. “Not like that...I mean what she is proposing is that we get the children together, during the summer months when Marianne is old enough we send her to spend the summers there—with you accompanying her of course,” Dagda added in comforting tone. “And let the children get to know each other and see what happens.”

Lily frowned pondering over the idea. “But we wouldn't make her marry? She could marry someone else for love if she didn't fall in love with Griselda's boy, correct?”

“Of course dear, but what if she did fall in love with the boy? Just imagine what that could mean.”

Lily smiled, glancing down at her tiny daughter. “Well, I've only met little Bog once or twice. He seems like such a smart little boy with such serious eyes, especially after his father died. But you know Marianne, I do believe you would like him, maybe even bring a little happiness to him.” She smiled stroking her daughter's cheek before she looked up at her husband. “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

Dagda grinned. “Perfect! I'll let her know when she and Bog arrive for the official naming ceremony!”

*

Between the arrival of Queen Griselda's letter and the naming ceremony, the king's councilor, Rothbart Knight, who had been blessed with a son a year earlier—a birth from which his wife died—had developed a plan. With the birth of the baby princess an opportunity had been presented to him. If he could arrange a formal engagement between his son and the princess now while they were infants, it would provide him with the perfect opportunity to take over. The kingdom would be his...as regent of course, when the King and Queen died under tragic circumstances, leaving the two small children destinied to be married, but too young to rule...

But when Rothbart approached the King to put his plan into motion, it was the Queen who had blocked his plan. It was the Queen who had him investigated behind his back, and it was the keen-minded, perceptive Queen who had him and his son, Roland, ultimately banished. But he was a patient man, he would have his revenge...in time...

*

Two months later, the castle was filled with people all here to celebrate the naming ceremony, the day that Marianne was recognized as a true princess of the kingdom. Prince Bog, a shy, awkward little boy of six, walked beside his mother, dressed in his finest clothing and hating every moment of it.

“Why do I have to wear this?” Bog muttered in his little voice for the hundredth time since they had left the ship. He was dressed in his finest kilt of blue, black and grey, along with a long linen Highland shirt and a short jacket the same plaid as his kilt with short hose and polished leather shoes. His black hair was combed, though one rebellious lock kept falling across his forehead. Bog held a richly decorated package in dark purple and whined, “Mam, the jacket is itchy! I donna wanna give her a present; she's a baby. Baby's stink and they cry all the time.”

“Bog, hush now. You can change after you meet the princess.” With her red hair pulled into an intricate, curling style on her head, Griselda wore a plaid dress of the same colors as her son's kilt, patted him on the top of the head (which Bog hated.) He hated being shorter than everyone else!

“I donna want to meet a stupid princess.” Bog pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate princesses.”

“You do not.” Griselda stifled a laugh before she continued. “Bog dear, she might be your future wife.” Griselda smiled down at her son only to see him stick his tongue out and shake his head with a... “Blah!!! I don't wanna ever get married!!!”

Griselda chuckled. “Bog hush now.”

Bog wrinkled his tiny sharp nose. “Love is stupid and girls stink.”

“They do not.” Griselda said giving him a light tap on the shoulder while struggling not to laugh.

Bog would not be deterred. “They do too!”

Griselda sighed while they stood in line waiting to process into the castle. They were honored guests, to be certain, but there was quite a bit of logistics and ceremony involved to escort them into the castle.

“What about Stephanie? You play with her and Theodore all the time. Does she stink?” Griselda asked lifting a brow at her son.

Bog made a face. “Stuff doesn't stink and she ain't a girl.”

“Don't say “ain't” Bog, and yes she is.” Griselda smiled down at her son. Watching his little mind work was a delight. If only his father had lived to see his little boy turning into the spitting image of him, though his features still carried some vestiges of the roundness of baby fat, she could see where he would have his father's sharp features and had also inherited his father's bright, summer blue eyes. Sometimes it hurt to look into her son's eyes, they reminded her so much of her late husband.

“No she isn't. She doesn't wear dresses and she likes to get dirty and she can beat up anybody!” Bog grinned.

Griselda pressed her lips together trying not to laugh. “Yet she is still a girl Bog, and destined to be one of your bodyguards.”

“She ain't a real girl,” Bog muttered with stubborn determination.

Griselda chuckled. “Oh sweetie, you'll learn that there is a lot more to being a real girl than dresses. And don't say “ain't” sweetie.”

“Yes Mam,” Bog groused sullenly.

*

Before long, Queen Griselda and young Prince Bog were escorted into the castle. The throne room had been decorated for the naming ceremony in white and soft shades of pink. Roses were the dominant flower in all the displays, creating a soft perfume of fragrance throughout the room. The king and queen sat on their thrones, dressed in complementary shades of purple. The royal crib, decorated in soft pink and white flowers along with gentle draping, sat between them, holding the young princess.

Griselda stepped forward with her son, inclining her head just before her face broke out into a huge smile. “Oh Lily! I'm so happy for you!”

“Griselda! I'm so happy you could come!” Queen Lily stepped down from her throne to hurry over to the other woman and embrace her. Dagda smiled at the two queens, then turned his gaze to Bog. He motioned the young prince forward. “Would you like to see her?”

Bog first response would have been a sullen “No,” but he remembered his manners and did his best not to make a face as he mounted the steps to the frilly crib. He had to stand on his tiptoes to look inside, the king standing beside him and hand settled gently on the young prince's back.

Dagda smiled. “Her name is Marianne.”

Bog looked into the crib. Inside he saw a round, pink baby with big brown eyes and a curls of soft brown baby hair around her head like a halo, playing with a silver toy rattle that reminded Bog of primroses that grew everywhere back home. She was sitting up in the crib shaking the rattle. But then her attention was quickly drawn to the little boy looking over the edge of the crib. When she saw him she immediately gurgled happily, dropping the rattle to reach for him. Dagda patted Bog on the head (which made Bog grumpy, stupid tall adults. Someday he would be taller than all of them he thought, then no one would pat him on the head! He would get to pat everyone else on the head!) But then the king stepped away to speak with Bog's mother.

Bog looked around to make sure none of the adults were watching before he reached in a hand toward the baby princess. Marianne grabbed one of his fingesr then surprised Bog when she used him to pull herself up into a standing position. Bog didn't move, letting the little princess get to her feet. She then wobbled dangerously before her other hand caught the edge of the crib. She made happy gurgling noises, drool running off her chin. She was wearing a little pink and white dress that seemed to be made of all ruffles and ribbons. This close to her, Bog could see that there was a tiny rose ribbon in her hair. She reached up and surprised him again when she grabbed the end of his nose.

Bog yelped. “Hey.”

He eased her hand off his nose, which made Marianne laugh. She smiled brightly, her little eyes twinkling as she looked at the little boy, reaching for him with one hand. Bog frowned then stuck his tongue out at her, which sent the baby into a squealing laugh of delight. Bog grinned, putting the baby's present down by the crib and put his hands over his face then opened his hands again with a softy spoken, “Peekaboo!”

Marianne gurgled and giggled, smacking her little hands on the crib's railing. Bog's smile widened and he did the same maneuver again which had Marianne laughing loudly with delight. Bog giggled. He supposed she wasn't too bad—for a baby...and a girl.

*

Griselda was laughing as Queen Lily told her some anecdote about Dagda being a new father, when she glanced over and saw Bog playing with the little princess and the delightful baby noises coming from the princess who was laughing hard enough and sweetly that nearly all the court's attention was on the two children. Lily noticed Queen Griselda's attention had turned and she followed the other queen's gaze to the children. She squeaked in delight smacking her husband on the shoulder and pointing.

Dagda frowned and turned to see the two little ones playing.

Dagda grinned with a look at the two ladies. “This might just work out.”

*

Three years later, Queen Lily gave birth to another miracle, another daughter, a little beam of sunshine they named Dawn, and three years after that, Princess Marianne left with her mother and baby sister to spend her first summer with Prince Bog King.

*

Marianne sat in the coach on one side of her mother, dressed in a pale lavender dress, her long brown hair braided down her back, wearing a little flowered headband with a long pale lavender veil that covered her hair down her back. She was sticking her legs out and kicking her shoes together while her little sister Dawn, her blonde hair just brushing her shoulder and wearing a similar dress but in pale blue, sat on her mother's lap playing with a gold chain that hung around their mother's neck.

“I don't wanna spend the summer with a boy.” Marianne said picking up the end of her dress and flopping it up and down.

“Marianne stop that. A lady doesn't flop her dress around,” Lily said softly with a gentle smile. “You might like him.”

Marianne stuck her bottom lip out. “No, I won't.”

“Now Mari, what did I tell you?” Lily looked down at her daughter with a stern gaze.

Marianne sighed. “A princess judges people by their deeds, not their looks.”

Lily smiled. “That's my little princess.”

*

Standing by the gate with his mother, Bog wore a dark blue and black kilt, a white shirt with full sleeves and a dark blue Ren vest over the top of that with his socks and a pair of well worn boots. (His mother had tried to get him into some nicer shoes, but the boy had thrown a fit. Griselda had decided to choose her battles and had let to boots go.) Now twelve, he stood a head taller than his mother. He was tall and only getting taller. Griselda smiled. By the time he was fourteen she expected him to be towering over her. She elbowed her son gently in the side. She noticed he was slouching again. He was self-conscious about his height; being tall for a boy his age, everyone noticed him (beyond being a prince), and it wasn't just his height. Bog was also skinny and the sharp angles of his face were just beginning to make themselves known, with a mop of thick unruly hair, and large long fingered hands, Bog was shy and awkward. He didn't like to talk to people much, usually spending his time with his two best friends and bodyguards-in-training, Thang and Stuff who still went by their nicknames from when they were very small.

Griselda saw the coach approaching and did a quick inspection of her son. “Stand up tall Bog.”

“Mam...” Bog whined. “I don't want to spend my summer with a little girl tagging along!”

Griselda put her hands on her hips, giving her son a withering look.

Bog frowned then sighed under his mother's glare. “Fine.”

“Good, now behave yourself.” His mother licked her thumb and wiped some invisible dirt from his cheek, making her son groan. He feared that she would perform her “mothering” until he was old and grey.

The coach came to a stop and two guards quickly moved around to open the door. Princess Marianne stepped out first. Griselda gasped. She was only six, but she was already becoming a beauty with big brown eyes and rosebud lips. The little princess walked out and curtsied perfectly. Griselda smiled then smacked her son on the back, shoving him forward. Bog pressed his lips together and sighed, giving the little princess a formal bow.

“It is a great pleasure to have ye here, Princess Marianne.” Bog spoke carefully making sure his accent and words were clear.

Marianne replied in her sweet little voice. “Thank you Prince Bog. I am happy to be here.”

While the two children greeted one another, Queen Lily descended the stairs of the coach with her youngest daughter on her hip. She smiled, her hand out to Griselda who hurried over, the two Queen's embracing.

Griselda beamed. “Oh look at you princess Dawn!! You've grown so big!”

Dawn giggled shyly, then suddenly lunged in for a hug. Griselda laughed scooping up the tiny princess. “She is so sweet!”

Lily laughed. “Dawn is very affectionate.”

The two women looked over to where Bog and Marianne were standing side by side, both looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Griselda chuckled. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

*

A few days later, Bog was dressed in a black kilt, Thang wearing a red kilt and Stuff wearing a green kilt. They were running through the castle halls with a very angry Marianne in hot pursuit. She had her skirts pulled up and tucked along the band of her dress as she ran. Bog and his two friends raced down the stairs with the little princess in hot pursuit. “Ye'll never catch us because yer a big old girl!” Bog yelled back. Thang, a short boy with straight brown hair which he had shaved on the side, and big green eyes, snickered. Stuff, a tall heavy-set girl with brown hair cut in a boyishly short style, looked slightly annoyed, but not enough to do anything about it as she ran with the two boys. It was really starting to annoy her that Thang and Bog didn't see her as a girl. They acted like she wasn't one at all because she could wrestle them both to the floor. Plus, over the last few days she was starting to like Princess Marianne. Stuff thought she was funny and tough; she liked tough. And on top of everything else, it annoyed her that Thang didn't see her as a girl. She really, really wanted him to see her as a girl...because she...kinda liked Thang. Just a little.

Marianne shouted. “You stink BOG!! You're a big old cockroach!”

Bog stopped in his tracks turning on her, his kilt twirling with him. “You take that back.”

Marianne stopped on the last two stairs. “No,” the princess said defiantly.

“Take it back!” Bog snarled. The insult hurt. Bog was insulted a lot by the other children...the other nobles' children usually. It didn't matter that Bog was someday to be king to them; right now he was an awkward too-tall prince with an ugly face. The staff's children were the only ones who were kind to Bog, which was why he preferred their company to the children of the nobles, but to hear the little princess say it, the one his mother hoped he would marry someday, hurt. A lot. Bog felt the sting of tears in his eyes, which made him angry. He viciously wiped the tears that were threatening to fall away and glared at the tiny princess.

Princess Marianne was surprised that her words had hurt him. She could see it in his blue eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt him with her words, but now that they were out she wasn't going to back down either; Marianne narrowed her eyes. “Make me.”

Bog narrowed his eyes back. “Stupid princess.”

Marianne let out a tiny little roar of frustration. She sorta liked Bog. He didn't act like the other noble children back home, too uppity-up to get dirty, or they were too in awe of her to really play with her. Bog didn't seem to care at all that she was a princess really, but he was so frustrating! Marianne could tell she had hurt him with her words, but she was too angry to stop herself, and so threw herself at Bog. He was much taller than her, older than her, but he was skinny and she didn't care. She ploughed into the older boy, hitting him in the middle with a shoulder hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs, bowling the two of them over over to the floor. Bog yelped in surprised as his breath rushed out painfully. Marianne whaled on him with her little fists. “You're a big ugly cockroach!”

Bog threw his arms up to block her assault, trying to remember why his mother told him not to hit princesses, because right now that seemed contrary to his continued well-being, but Bog just continued to hold his arms over his face to prevent the pint-size princess from hurting him. Stuff and Thang shared a look, having no idea if they should help or not considering it was a fight between a prince and a princess. They both silently decided that it was best to let royalty work it out for themselves.

“MARIANNE!!”

Marianne stopped, her little fist in the air. Bog kept his hands up trying to protect his face.

“That is enough!” Queen Lily came sweeping down on her eldest daughter while holding Dawn's hand, the little girl running to keep up with her mother. Lily grabbed Marianne firmly by the arm and pulled her off of Bog. The Queen dropped down to her knees despite the silk gown she wore, releasing her youngest daughter, who ran to Bog with a shrill and happy. “BOGGY!”

Just before Dawn threw herself into his arms, Bog, who had just sat up, barely had time to catch the little princess. Dawn hugged Bog tightly, her little arms around his neck.

Bog smiled slightly—at least Princess Dawn liked him.

For some reason the littlest princess had taken an instant likeing to the tall, awkward boy.

Bog slowly stood up taking princess Dawn with him. He held her while the little girl rubbed her forehead and nose all over his chin and cheeks with happiness.

Lily sighed. “Marianne, why were you hitting on Bog.”

“Because they wouldn't let me play! And they kept calling me princess.” Marianne pouted, her bottom lip ticking out.

Her mother pressed her lips together on a smile. “Darling, a princess doesn't not beat up others; instead she tries to reason with them.”

That was when Griselda joined them. She and Lily had been walking together when Lily saw her daughter beating up on Griselda's son. Griselda was proud of her boy for not hitting the princess.

“Bog's a stupid head. He's a big smelly cockroach,” Marianne muttered sullenly.

“Marianne!” her mother exclaimed, but she brought her hand up to cover her mouth and hide her laugh. Griselda grimanced. Lily pointed a finger at Marianne. “That's enough young lady.”

Queen Lily stood and firmly turned her eldest daughter around. “You will apologize to Prince Bog now.”

Marianne looked down at the floor, her hands behind her back. She didn't look up as she muttered, “Sorry Prince Bog.”

Bog looked between Queen Lily and his mother. His mother encouraged him with a thrust of her head. Bog didn't want to forgive Marianne, he was still sore at her, but he sighed and reluctantly muttered while he held Dawn, her little head tucked under his chin. “It's fine. I accept your apology. I'm...I'm sorry too.”

Marianne smiled up at him then. “Thank you Bog.”

Bog shrugged then sighed again. “You...You want to come with us? We're going horseback riding.”

Marianne frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yes...if you want to go, then come on.” Bog turned and started to stalk away, at the last moment he realized he was still carrying Dawn and quickly came back to hand the little princess to her mother. Dawn pouted reaching for Bog, who smiled at her and played with her hand for a moment, swung it back and forth. Marianne frowned; Bog was always really good with her baby sister.

Marianne looked up at her mother who smiled. “Go on dear.”

Marianne grinned running up to Bog. Bog sighed and then motioned at her. “Come on.”

Dawn whimpered, watching them go. “Go!”

Lily bounced her daughter on her hip “You can have tea with me and your Aunt Griselda. She promised there would be those little cakes you like.”

Dawn squealed with a clap of her little hands. “Cakes!!”

*

The summer that Bog was fourteen, Marianne was eight and Dawn was five was the summer that Marianne broke Bog's arm. When the coach carrying Queen Lily and her daughters arrived that summer, Dawn, a whirlwind of blue and gold, burst from the coach slamming into Bog who was waiting for them with his mother and yelled merrily.

“BOGGY!!”

Marianne peeked out the window, carefully moving the curtain of the coach window aside. She frowned. Bog had grown even taller; he now towered over his mother even more. Actually Marianne thought, he towered over everything!

Queen Lily smiled. “Stop peeking dear and go out to meet him.”

Marianne sighed, dropping the curtain with a slight pout, and followed her sister, but at a slower pace and with a scowl on her little face. She glanced toward Bog who was busy with her sister. He was tossing the five year old up into the air and catching her. He was deceptively stronger than his skinny frame would suggest. He happened to glance up just as Marianne stuck her tongue out at him before her mother could catch her. Bog stuck out his tongue in response over the head of Marianne's little sister, who had her face buried against his shoulder, her arms around his neck.

Bog had been standing next to his mother, wearing a kilt and vest in a shade of blue that made his eyes stand out in startling detail. Marianne's frown deepened. She didn't remember his eyes being that...blue. His features had become sharper since last summer, she also noted. She was a little startled at how Bog had changed since last summer. His acne had cleared up and he now had a smattering of facial hair. He still slouched though, she noticed with smug satisfaction.

Bog ignored Marianne, but smiled at Dawn and danced in a circle with the little princess, who was so excited to see Bog her entire body wiggled with joy. Marianne felt a little stab of jealously.

“How's my Princess Dawn?” he asked with a grin placing the tiny princess on his hip.

Dawn wrapped her arms around Bog's neck squealing. “BOGGY WOGGY!!”

Bog blushed. “Bog, it's just Bog.”

Dawn would not be persuaded and started to happily sing, unwilling to let go of Bog. “Boggy Woggy, Kingy Wingy!!” Then she hugged him tightly, rubbing her cheek to his cheek. “I missed you!!”

Bog chuckled giving her a squeeze. “Missed you too, Little Sunshine.”

Marianne walked next to her mother, glancing over at Bog, but he ignored her. Marianne decided right then and there she was never going to marry him.

*

It was later that same summer; Bog was outside practicing with his sword (which was covered in padding to make sure the young prince didn't accidentally cut himself) against a practice dummy while his two bodyguards-in-training were nearby going through their own practice routine. Marianne had wandered outside bored. When she was bored, she liked to annoy Bog, so she had gone looking for him. When she saw him practicing, Marianne grinned. She had found an opportunity to annoy him, but she was also startled at how he looked. Tall, lean, dressed in his kilt and just a shirt, competently swinging his sword. He looked so...mature. Marianne felt an intense wave of annoyance at him. He shouldn't look like that...the jerk, she thought. So she hurried over to pester him.

She stopped near Bog, observing him for a few minutes with her arms crossed over her chest. Bog glanced over at her. “What do you want?”

Marianne smiled thinly at him. “I can do that better.”

Bog had just performed a series of lunges and a few swipes. He was good, Marianne thought, but she would never tell him that. Instead she decided to poke at him. She wasn't sure why she wanted to annoy him so much when he had pretty much left her alone all summer...just like she had claimed she wanted. Or, she realized, maybe that was the reason she was annoyed...because he had actually done what she asked. But ultimately it didn't matter; she felt like needling him, so here she was pestering the prince.

Bog turned to glare at her. His nose too long for his face, and his hands and feet seemed too large too, but he was also somewhat...cute. Marianne's turn of thought just annoyed her more and made her want to pester him even more.

Bog spoke with a sneer. “No you can't.”

“My papa is letting me learn to sword fight.” Marianne said, putting her hands on her hips, which was the truth. Dagda was letting her learn. Bog frowned at her. She was cute in her pink dress, her long hair loose to her waist, the slight breeze catching the long locks and causing them to drift around her...cute for a little kid he thought—a stupid and annoying little kid.

Bog laughed. “Bah, I don't believe it.”

“Scared I'm better than you?” Marianne made a face at him and stuck her tongue out.

“I know you're not better than me.” Bog reached up to pull down the skin under one eye and stuck his tongue out at her.

“Fine, then let me try.” Marianne put her tiny hand out for the sword. Bog hesitated then shrugged walking over and putting the sword in her hands. The weight surprised her and Marianne nearly toppled over, but Bog's snickering gave her the determination not to fall as she struggled with the sword. It was also far longer than she thought as the wrapped blade hit the ground. Bog continued to snicker.

“Oh yes Marianne, your skills are unmatched!” Bog laughed.

Marianne wrinkled her nose in annoyance struggling to pick up the sword. Bog sighed and stepped closer, figuring he should stop this masquerade before she hurt herself.

“Here let me...”

“No! I can do it myself!” Marianne snarled, lifting the sword. She was about to attempt to swing it when she lost her balance, the heavy blade yanked her to the side. Bog raced forward to try and help, not wanting the little girl to hurt herself, but Marianne lurched away and the padded blade swung heavily to the side just as Bog came over to help her. Marianne lifted the blade higher in the air, lost her balance, and the sword blade dropped to slam into Bog's upper arm accompanied by the sound of a loud snap. Bog fell with a yelp of pain grabbing at his upper arm. Marianne gasped dropping the heavy sword.

“Bog?”

Bog groaned in pain, tears in his eyes. “Get my Mam! I can't move my arm!”

Marianne yelped and took off at a run, lifting her skirts, tears running down her cheeks as she ran into the castle.

*

An hour later, Marianne came to see Bog in his room. She had told her mother everything and Queen Lily had told her daughter that the right thing, the good thing to do, would be to go apologize to the prince. So here Marianne was with a bouquet of flowers she had gathered herself to ask him to forgive her.

When she arrived at Bog's bedroom door, Queen Griselda was just stepping out. “Oh Marianne! Your mother told me you would be coming. Oh, what lovely flowers!” she exclaimed.

Marianne nodded. “You think he'll like them?”

“I'm sure he will. Right now he's asleep from the medication the doctors have given him. He is in a lot of pain, but feel free to go in and see him.” Griselda stepped out of the way to allow Marianne to enter the room.

Bog's room was not what Marianne was expecting. His walls were decorated with tapestries depicting images from famous literary love stories, such as Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde and even Odysseus and Penelope. He also had models of swords on the walls, and so many books! The bed was a large dark wood canopied bed with large fluffy pillows and blankets and laying there in the middle of the bed was Bog, looking lost among the pillows and blankets, his arm held up in a cast that covered his entire arm. He looked pale, and even skinnier to Marianne. She felt a wave of emotion wash over her as she gaze at him. She felt sick for having hurt him so badly in her need to prove herself.

Marianne stepped closer and she could see that he was sleeping. Marianne walked over to the side of his bed, away from the cast, placing the flowers on his beside table. Bog didn't react to her presence. Marianne thought about turning around and leaving, but instead she came closer reaching out to brush her fingers over his hand.

“Bog, I”m so sorry for what I did. Can you ever forgive me?” Marianne sighed, her voice low, before she leaned in and kissed his cheek. She stood there for a moment more before leaving the room. Bog opened his eyes after she was gone, a little smile on his lips. He touched his cheek then whispered to the empty room. “I forgive you.”

*

It was the last week of summer when Marianne and her family left. Bog was standing by his mother looking pale. His arm was still in a cast that stretched from his shoulder down to his wrist with a sling across his body holding the arm to his torso. He was feeling well enough to move around, though he complained about how heavy the cast was to carry around. The doctors had said his arm would heal just fine, but Marianne still felt awful for what she had done, though there was a bright side to Bog's injury.

She had spent the rest of the summer doing her best to make it up to Bog. They had played cards together and board games. Marianne had taught him how to paint and he had taught her how to sing (he had a surprisingly beautiful singing voice she had thought, though she would never have told anyone that.) They had spent late afternoons having tea and reading together in Bog's room, and Marianne had even read to him when he was in bed after the doctors had given him pain medication, sitting on his bed next to him, reading from Bog's favorite book and staying with him until he had fallen asleep. They had spent more time together this summer than at any other time. Marianne was a little regretful when the summer came to an end...as was Bog. He was actually sad to see her go.

Even though Bog had seemed to forgive her, Dawn had refused to talk to sister for weeks until Bog had intervened on her behalf. Marianne had been grateful to him though she never said anything. Her feelings toward Bog had become very muddled by the time she was with her mother and sister boarding the coach.

Just before they were supposed to load up into the coach for the drive to the docks, Marianne turned around and dashed back to Bog. She stopped right in front of him.

“I had a wonderful summer. Thank you Bog.”

She pressed a kiss to her fingers then hopped up and surprised Bog when she pressed her fingers holding the invisible kiss to his cheek before she dashed back to the coach and climbed inside closing the door.

Bog frowned, looking slightly dumbfounded as he touched his cheek.

His mother simply grinned from ear to ear.

*

The summer when Marianne was seventeen and Bog was twenty-three was when everything changed.

Dawn, dressed in a lace and satin blue dress was sitting in the coach annoying her big sister as she spoke non-stop about Bog. It wasn't that Marianne didn't like hearing about Bog...secretly she did, but her little sister's clear hero-worship was a bit much. Especially in the confines of the coach where Marianne couldn't escape her bubbling swooning.

“If you don't marry him, I think I will!” Dawn said cheerfully placing her hands in her lap and smiling, proud of her decision.

Their mother, Lily, who wore a dress of soft lavender and white, glanced up from her needlepoint; the rolling and rocking of the coach didn't disrupt her work in the least. She was quite well aware of her eldest daughter's budding interest in the young prince as she was of her youngest daughter's crush on him. She smiled, lifting a brow watching Marianne's reaction. Marianne had her nose in one of the books that Bog had given her last summer. She was wearing a light empire-waist dress of dark purple, her hair piled up in a Grecian-style, ringlets framing her face, a dark purple ribbon woven throughout. Lily had noticed that her daughter had taken extra care with her appearance before they left the ship for the coach, but she had made no comment to her daughter about it.

“You don't want to marry him,” Marianne said without looking up from her book. Marianne wrinkled her nose pushing back one of the ringlets that framed her face. Dawn wore her long blonde hair loose, falling in golden waves down her back, with a simple blue ribbon tied in a bow at the top of her head, looking like a sculpted cherub as her hair formed soft curls around her angelic face.

“And why not?” Dawn asked giving her big sister a serious look.

Marianne muttered without looking up, “Because he's annoying.”

Dawn giggled. “You're still sore he beat you at archery last summer.”

“Well, I beat him at sword play.” Marianne replied with a grin glancing up at her sister.

“Yeah, but he beat you with that staff of his that he started to carry around.” Dawn pointed out. “Oh, he was so dashing!!”

Marianne started to say something, but her mother interjected. “Marianne, really, do you dislike Bog that much. Now be honest.”

Marianne blushed closing her book. “No...I suppose not. I mean, he did give me all those books last time...”

“And you know, when you both were practicing with swords last summer, he didn't hold back. You won fair and square...he treated you as an equal, did he not?” Her mother asked. “He even seemed proud of you didn't he?”

Marianne glanced down. “Yes...he did.”

Her mother smiled, ready to say something else, but that was when the coach came to a stop. Lily moved the curtain aside smiling. “We're here.”

The coachman dropped down and came around to open the door. Before the man could set down the steps for them to exit the coach, Dawn hopped out before her mother could stop her. Trying to teach Dawn to act like a princess was a constant effort. Marianne smiled at her mother when they both heard her little sister's squeal of delight.

“BOGGY!!”

Which was followed by the accented voice that was clearly Bog's. “Bog. It's Bog...”

Marianne felt her heart do a little flop at the sound of his voice, deep and mature...Marianne pressed her lips together feeling as if her cheeks were burning bright red for everyone to see.

Lily motioned for her eldest to step down out of the coach. Moving at a more refined speed, Marianne stepped out of the coach taking the coachman's hand to guide her down the stairs. She looked up and saw Bog and her eyes widened.

She would swear he had grown another inch or two over the winter months. She only vaguely acknowledged that Queen Griselda was standing next to him in a dark mahogany dress. He was tall and thin as usual, but there was a muscular set to his arms and shoulders that hadn't been there last summer. He was wearing a kilt as usual, in the King family colors. His black hair was slicked back from his sharp featured face, his eyes bluer than the summer sky above them. The kilt showed off his rather nice knees Marianne thought, and she could see that while his legs were still thin, they were muscular thin, not skinny and he was smiling, a bright smile. She could see his crooked teeth...teeth she had teased him about when they were younger, but now looked to her to be rather attractive. She felt a strange stirring in the pit of her stomach. There was something more...well just MORE about him Marianne thought. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what had changed since last year, but there was certainly a change in him.

Bog was smiling down at Dawn. The little princess had her arms tight around him and was talking a mile-a-minute about what had happened over the winter.

Bog glanced over at Marianne, his blue eyes meeting her warm brown one's and he simply stopped moving. Marianne was beautiful, he thought. No, more than beautiful, he realized. There were no words to describe her. His heart tightened in his chest and his hands becamse clammy as he gazed at her, all other sounds around him falling to the background, everything around him fell away leaving only her in his sight.

They stared at one another, then Bog walked slowly over to her. Dawn let him go watching her sister and Bog. She grinned a little as they reminded her of lovers from one of her romance novels.

When Bog was close enough, he reached out to take her hand, just the tips of her fingers really, holding her fingertips with the tips of his own fingers.

“Marianne, it's wonderful to see you,” he greeted, his voice warm as he brought her hand up and kissed the knuckles of her hand.

Marianne stared at him as she mumbled in response. “It's nice to see you Bog.”

Both of them continued to stare at each other, unwavering and unaware of the others around them, never noticing their mothers smiling or Dawn's look of confusion. Their eyes were only for each other. Bog smiled and wrapped Marianne's arm around his own. “Would you care for a walk?”

Marianne smiled and leaned close to him, her other hand gripping his arm. “I would love to Bog.”

*

Queen Lily grinned and put her arm around Queen Griselda's shoulders as they watched the two young people.

“I think our plan is now out of our hands.”

Griselda chuckled. “Oh I think we might have a wedding to plan!”

Chapter Text

Bog walked into the garden with Marianne on his arm, leaving their mothers and one little sister behind. The young couple was unaware of the rat among them: Roland Knight, son of Rothbart, a tall, handsome young man with thick blonde hair, green eyes and a smile that had the women of the castle throwing themselves at his feet. In a way, he had more power than the stupid ugly prince, Roland thought to himself as he watched the two royals stride past him and into the garden. Roland made a face behind their backs as the prince and princess walked by, careful that Bog's bodyguards Stuff and Thang didn't see him. He wasn't worried about Thang, dismissing the smaller man, but Stuff was a big woman with a pretty mean left hook he had actually seen in action. Roland frowned with narrowed eyes. Women loved him, and he knew that women found the prince ugly. He would feel sorry for the tall royal, but Roland's feelings did not extend to anyone but himself.

Roland grinned standing straight and watching his bride-to-be walk with the ugly prince, thinking to himself that, really, he was the good guy in this scenario. He would be rescuing Marianne, giving her a handsome prince to marry and his father would run the kingdom. Roland would then have the ability to do whatever he wanted without consequence, and she wouldn't have to be saddled with the cockroach of a prince—it was a win-win situation.

Roland had become part of the royal guards on his father's suggestion. He was just one of the mindless grunts that worked in the castle, but it was a position that gave him access to everywhere. His father had put him in the castle to watch and learn. He had only been in the castle the last three years, but he knew all he needed to know; Bog, was the ugly prince, the ugly duckling that had stayed ugly, and he was a virgin...at his age! Roland stifled a snicker just thinking about it. The other thing that Roland learned was that a lot of the women of the castle were fun for a romp, the other guards were a bunch of simpletons (stay away from Stuff) and that was about it. While Marianne was the beautiful princess who had started as an ugly duckling (at least according to his father), she had turned into a swan, his swan, the princess he was going to get, as he deserved, just as his father had always told him. He would get the princess and the kingdom...along with his father, of course. Then he would have all the money and freedom to do whatever he wanted without the obligaction of actually running a kingdom.

Roland grinned. Thank goodness she had grown to be beautiful, otherwise he would have had a hard time stomaching marrying her. After all, beauty was the only thing that was important! He supposed he could arrange a tragic accident if she were ugly, but now he wouldn't have to worry about that. A beautiful bride, a kingdom, money to do whatever...perfect. There was nothing else in all this wretched world that was as important to him as beauty. It was the only reason to saddle himself with the princess...oh and a kingdom!

*

The gardens where Bog led Marianne were a vast Baroque garden with painstakingly carved fountains, landscaped rows of hedges twisted into intricate and varied shapes, and so many flowers. Marianne had made it her goal to count all the flowers in the royal garden one summer, but she had lost track when she reached over a thousand. Right now they were all in gorgeous bloom filling the air with their heavenly scent. She and Bog had come down to the gardens every summer to play hide and seek, to sword fight or to just walk and talk about the books they had read over the winter. This place held so many fond memories for her. Bog led her over to the lilac bushes that circled one of her favorite fountains. It was a large marble fountain of a swan, his wings spread out circling the water that sprang forth in a beautiful slow rain.

Marianne smiled shyly when she glanced up at Bog. How had he, over the winter months, grown so...handsome? She had always been aware of his sparkling blue eyes, the sensual shape of his lips, the way his face lit up when he smiled, but for some reason they were just so much more compelling now. He was so tall, muscular, that smile, those lips...or maybe she had simply chosen not to notice until now.

She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder. She could see Stuff and Thang, Bog's bodyguards, doing their best to keep their distance while still remaining close enough to provide protection. She grinned and waved over her shoulder at them. Thang was dressed in simple leather armor, a plain grey shirt, leather boots that reached to his knees and leather breeches, his sword strapped to his hip. He hadn't managed to grow very tall over the years, but he was good with a sword, almost as good as Bog. He waved back with a grin. Stuff was quite tall, with Thang only reaching to her chest, and broad shouldered. She wore an armored half vest, her thick arms and muscled stomach exposed with a heavy leather skirt and thick boots. Her long hair was pulled up in a mohawk style, the long braids combined with dreadlocks and beads in her hair ran down her back to her hips. Instead of a sword, Stuff carried a heavy axe. Stuff smacked Thang on the shoulder for waving, causing the little man to stumble forward a step or two. Thang blushed rubbing the back of his head as he turn to look up at her. Stuff was always more professional than Thang. Stuff looked away and Marianne almost didn't catch the look of complete devotion in Thang's eyes when the little man glanced at Stuff. Marianne grinned; she guessed Thang finally saw her as a woman...now she wondered if Stuff saw him as a man yet. Marianne returned her attention to Bog. She glanced up at him again, studying his profile. For some reason he wasn't the same as last summer. Her heart swelled looking at him. She guessed she had known she was in love with him, had been the last few summers, but today...her feelings had hit her, as if cupid had aimed an arrow at her chest, and struck her fair in the heart.

Bog was working to avoid trembling. He was stiff as a board as he walked beside her, he felt like he had a rod in his back as he struggled not to look like the fool he thought he was...the tall, gangly cockroach that Marianne had called him when they were children. He never felt he had grown beyond that, but Marianne never seemed to notice or care that he had remained ugly and awkward. He glanced down at her. Marianne was petite enough that she didn't even reach his shoulder. He had always known she was short; hellfire, they spent every summer together, of course he had known she was tiny, but she never seemed that way to him. Marianne was bigger than life, beautiful, smart, strong....he guessed he had always known that he was in love with her, but today, his feeling had come rushing in on him like a great wave; but why was it now that he was so damnably aware of her? She looked so different. Bog pressed his lips together; he didn't know what to say to her. He kept going over words in his head, but they all sounded stupid.

They walked in silence next to each other, her arm in his when Bog said softly.

“I think our mothers are expecting a marriage proposal soon.” He swallowed nervously. “And I...I would ask you, but I would never assume that your heart didn't lie somewhere else Marianne. I mean,” he paused, took a breath, and started again. “I know our parents have been throwing us together every summer in the hopes that we would...but we never talked about it when you visit every summer...and I never brought up whether or not you had someone you were sweet on. I just assumed you did and that you didn't mention it because you just didn't want to discuss things like that with me, but...”

“Bog, there isn't anyone.” Marianne interrupted softly. “There never has been.” She blushed glancing at the flowers of the garden, but not really seeing them. She was acutely aware of his arm, the heat of his body, the way he smelled, the way that one lock of hair fell across his brow. Bog blinked looking down at her and his eyes widened slightly before he turned away to pretend he was looking at the garden.

“So, if I were to ask you to marry me, what do you think you would say?” Bog asked looking straight ahead.

Marianne blushed prettily. “I would first ask why?”

Bog stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, his expression earnest as he grasped her by her shoulders his blue eyes filled with emotion. “Marianne, I love you. I didn't realize that I loved you until the moment you stepped off that coach, but I know I have always loved you for as long as I can remember. I love you because I grew up with you and I know you like I know no one else and...and yer my best friend. I've seen you when you were sick, ugly, when you were being mean, when you beat me up and called me names...” Marianne turned beet red smiling, her lips pressed together. She remained quiet sensing that she needed to let Bog finish speaking or he would never be able to say what he wanted to say again.

Bog grinned at her, showing a hint of the crooked teeth she knew he had and continued. “I've also seen you at your kindest, I've seen your courage, your humor, the way you laugh, the moments you cried. I've seen you at your worst and your best. I've seen your heart Marianne and no one I know has a heart more beautiful than yours. I think I started to started to fall for you the summer you broke my arm...”

Marianne gasped. “Oh Bog!”

He chuckled. “It's true! That was the summer I really was able to know you beyond the little princess who bothered my solitude every summer. That was the summer we started to become friends, and every summer after that I didn't realize I was falling in love until today. If you don't love me I understand Marianne. I would never expect you to love me in return. Something like that cannot be forced, but I hope, no matter what happens, no matter how you feel about me, you will always be my friend, my best friend, because all I want is your happiness.” Bog let out a breath, his whole frame seeming to sag.

Marianne's answering smile was brilliant. Bog felt his heart constrict. Here it was, the moment she told him no, the moment she blurted out how she could never have feelings for him. That he was that ugly prince she was forced to spend summers with and that she would be glad when it was over and she never had to see him again. He steeled himself for the blow, the blow he knew would break him.

Marianne took Bog's hands in hers. She stared down at his hands as they rested lightly against her own. His fingers were long and calloused, but graceful, tender. She had watched him nurse a rabbit one summer, a small thing he had found in the garden, wounded by a predator. She had seen him cry when the poor thing had died anyway. These were the hands of the man who had carried boxes of books to the ship for her, the hands of the man who had pulled her hair as a boy, but who had also braided her hair for her the summer she had been ill with chicken poxes, telling her that any scars she would get would just be cute on her and how he had made her laugh. The hands of the man she had fallen in love with.

“Bog, I would love to be your wife. I love you. I loved you from the moment you took me horseback riding and my love has grown steadily since that moment and I will continue to love you far longer than forever.”

Bog's lips trembled. “Is...is that a yes?”

Marianne smiled with an emphatic nod. “Oh Bog, yes! It's a yes! I would love to be your wife.”

Marianne threw herself into Bog's arms. Bog lifted her up off her feet and kissed her, their first kiss, that melted naturally from just a press of the lips to something so much more.

*

Roland, who had been crouching behind some bushes, stood up in shock when the princess threw herself at Bog and KISSED HIM!! Roland was sure he was going to vomit in the bushes! That had not happened! He looked again...they were still kissing!! He paled. This meant they would have to use his father's plan. Roland grimaced as he turned and left the gardens swiftly, ignoring another guard who called out to him. He left as quickly as he could, racing to the stables to saddle his horse.

He road as quickly as his horse Chipper could run, ignoring the panting and sweating of his steed to get to his father, to the ruins deep in the woods. He was in shock. He couldn't believe it! Princess Marianne had agreed to marry Prince Bog!! That had to be what the kiss meant! How in the bloody hell how that happened? Beautiful women didn't fall in love with ugly frogs! They fell in love with the handsome prince in disguise, the prince who was going to sweep them off their feet. What happened after didn't matter, that was how the stories went! He was the handsome one, he got the princess!! The kingdom, the money...everything!

Roland rode through the woods until he found the trail that ledto the castle where he had grown up. The castle was barely a castle anymore, more a ruin of what had once been something grand, set near a great lake, surrounded by the remains of arches and statues. The castle itself was a large ruin, while a tall tower dominated the center of the castle grounds, the top of which was crumbling away. The walls of the castle were now little more than simple piles of stone and the rest of it was mostly a toppled ruin as well. Only the main hall remained intact and that was where Roland had grown up with his father, listening to the stories of Roland's eventual greatness.

Roland jumped off his horse just as he reached the ancient oak doors and rushed inside.

The inside of the main room was lit by a roaring fire in the stone fireplace, the largest feature of the room. There was little comfort in the castle; no tapestries on the walls to warm or decorate the interior, there were two straw cots and a few chests that contained clothing and this father's magic supplies. (He had tried to train Roland in the dark arts, but his son had no propensity for them.) The chamber had always reminded Roland of a cave. He had sometimes wondered how different it might have all been if his mother had lived, but he never wondered or dwelt on her for long; nothing would change what had happened.

Roland rushed inside and found his father in his great winged back chair of deep purple, so close to the fire that Roland would worry that he would catch himself on fire with the way the sleeves of his robe seemed to swing dangerously over the flames. Rothbart was bent over the cauldron that sat among the flames like a large fat spider. From the depths of the black iron cauldron something foul was brewing; the castle was redolent with the odors of brimstone and sulfur. Rothbart didn't bother to look up as he hissed at his son:

“And why are you here?”

Roland stopped in his tracks. “I...father...I came to tell you. Prince Bog asked Princess Marianne to marry him and she said yes!”

Rothbart looked up in surprise, though irritation creased his brow as well. “I thought you had said there was no scenario in which the princess would marry the ugly prince charming? That once she refused him, you would easily be able to sweep in and get the girl?”

His father turned to look fully at his son. Roland felt the chill that he usually felt when his father looked directly at him with his small, penetrating black eyes. Roland shifted a little under his father's intense gaze. “Well..I was wrong.”

Rothbart sighed and nodded, as if he had expected this outcome all along. “Then we shall have to go with my plan.”

His father stood up, unfolding from the chair like a great bat as he flung out his arms, the long arms of his robes snapping out like wings. “Yes, my plan,” he purred softly.

“What plan is that?” Roland asked. They had always talked about his father's plan, but Roland never received any details. His father only smiled motioning him forward.

“Come here my boy and let me tell you.”

*

That summer seemed to rush by. Bog and Marianne were inseparble the whole of the season, slipping off to steal kisses, giggling together, their heads close, the fingers of their hands intertwined. They would dance in the garden under the summer moon with no music except what they made themselves. They would ride horses together and practice the blade, laughing and joyful. Lily and Griselda were in heaven..Dawn was a little jealous, though she couldn't help but be happy for her elder sister. Bog was perfect for her. Their last night together Bog and Marianne sat outside in the gardens alone while the end of summer ball took place behind them. Marianne was dressed in a white and gold ballgown that exposed her shoulders; a design of gold leaves and flowers caressed her shoulders running down the edge of the gown and over the top of her breasts. The waist of the gown accentuated her tiny waist with gold flowers and diamond leaves; the white fabric of the gown was like a fine silk reminding Bog of thin white draperies that would dance in the summer breeze. Her hair was up except for a few curls that danced enticingly along her throat and shoulders. She now wore a ring on her finger, a purple diamond, the ring he had given her, a promise.

Bog held her hands, his thumbs caressing the back of each hand as he gazed at the moon. He had removed his jacket and was dressed in just a simple white shirt and black vest over his kilt of blue, black and white, his black socks up to his knees with a pair of favored boots instead of dance shoes. She liked that about him, the one thing he never compromised on was his boots.

Bog finally looked at her. “I wish you didn't have to go.”

Marianne sighed sadly. “Me too. But...but soon I will never leave.” She smiled at him.

He blushed and squeezed her hands. “I know I'm being selfish, but I still wish you could stay. Though yer father would tan my hide.” They both chuckled.

Bog lifted her hands and kissed them both, then put them down gently on her lap before he reached forward to glide the tips of his fingers along her jaw. Marianne closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, then the press of his lips against hers. Bog dropped his hand, his fingers tracing sensually along the line of her dress, caressing her shoulder, then lower, skimming the edge where the dress met her breasts. Goosebumps raced over her skin and she moaned softly. Bog moaned as well in response.

“Marianne...I love ye so, Marianne.”

She opened her mouth inviting his tongue and he answered willingly. Her hands reached out, grabbing the front of his vest, pulling him toward her. Bog groaned against her mouth scooting closer, his hands coming up to gently cup her face.

*

From just inside the castle Roland watched the two of them from the veranda while hiding behind some potted plant, and gagged. He shook his head and started to turn, heading back into the castle when he saw Stuff standing behind him with her hands on her hips glaring at him. She wasn't dressed for the ball, wearing her usually half armored top, her stomach muscles on full display above her iron skirt and heavy knee-high leather boots.

She narrowed her eyes more, giving Roland a disgusted look through slitted eyelids. “Aren't you supposed to be by the doors instead of peeping?”

Roland swallowed coming to attention. He would never admit it aloud, but Stuff frightened him a bit. He was pretty sure she could lift him over his head and break him over her knee. She was the one woman in the entire castle he couldn't seduce..nor did he want to.

Roland saluted. “Yes ma'am.”

He hurried off with Stuff watching him go, her eyes riveted to him just as Thang, dressed in a leather kilt, white dress shirt and leather vest that also doubled as armor came up and shyly handed her a crystal glass. “Wine?”

Stuff frowned. “Thang, we're on duty.”

“I...I know...I mean we're always on duty, but I thought just a little.” He smiled at her and Stuff felt her insides turn to mush. He had the sweetest smile and the biggest most soulful eyes she thought. She sighed. “Fine.”

She took the glass, taking a sip of the wine smiling at him. Thang blushed from his cheeks to his ears standing beside her sipping his own wine watching the prince and princess wondering how he could tell Stuff how he felt and whether she was sock him in the nose for it.

*

The next morning as Marianne and her family prepared to leave, Bog and Marianne stood in an alcove, hidden by the shadows just outside the main entrance. Marianne held Bog's hands. She was blinking back tears, but they kept falling, running down her cheeks. “I'll be back before you know it. I'll be here for spring instead of summer.” She smiled, but the tears weakened it. Bog swallowed nodding and squeezing her hands.

“I...I know.” He smiled. “I love you Marianne. I love you just so much, I will count the days and write to you.”

Marianne smiled. “Oh Bog.”

He pulled her into his arms holding her tightly against him and resting his chin against her head. She closed her eyes, her head pressed against his chest, her arms tight around his waist. “I love you Bog,” she whispered back. “I will write too.”

He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead, gently tipping her head back to capture her mouth with his own in a deep passionate kiss.

*

Near the coach, Queen Lily, who had been directing the coachman on the their bags, turned to see her oldest daughter and Prince Bog locked in a passionate kiss. She smiled glancing to Griselda who was hugging Dawn goodbye. Griselda glanced over and gasped, smiling as her hands came up to hide her smile. She looked to Lily and clapped her hands silently. The two Queens were more than thrilled that events had turned out the way they did, that their children were clearly deeply in love. Both queens were eager and pleased to start planning the spring wedding for their eldest children. The correspondence would be flying back and forth this winter as the two Queens worked to put together the most spectacular wedding either kingdom had ever seen.

Dawn walked over to her mother, turning when she saw her mother looking over toward the castle entrance. She made a little squeak, blushed and turned around, but she was all smiles when she saw her sister and Bog.

*

Bog kissed his fingers, throwing out his hand to Marianne with an adorable awkward smile, his blue eyes twinkled, but Marianne could see that his eyes had tears in them. She swallowed her own tears and pressed her hand to the window, watching him as the coach pulled away, pressing herself against the window until she could no longer see him standing by the entrance. Queen Lily watched her eldest daughter with a smile. It also hurt her to see her eldest daughter so distraught over leaving Bog. Young love, she thought with a sigh, so sweet and so desperate. She pressed her lips together on a smile. She was so happy Marianne had fallen in love with Bog, she couldn't have chosen a better prince—a better husband—for her daughter than Bog. Lily loved the boy like he was her own. She smiled softly to herself thinking how grandchildren would be coming in the next few years. She wished her daughter the same happiness that she felt with their father for both her daughters.

Marianne sighed and flopped back in her seat, crossed her arms over her chest and wiped her eyes trying to be angry instead of upset.

Lily sighed with a small smile. “The winter will fly by, I promise.”

Marianne sniffled and wiped her eyes smiling. “I know...I just...it hurts so badly mother. Like part of me is missing. Is being in love supposed to hurt like this?!”

The queen leaned over and patted her daughter's knee. “I know dear. I felt the same way with your father. And yes, sometimes love can hurt like nothing else can.”

Marianne bottom lip trembled. “I hate it.”

Lily laughed softly. “Oh sweetheart, no you don't.”

Marianne sank lower in her seat with her mother chuckling. “Marianne, a princess doesn't sit like that....”

Dawn piped up, giggling happily and clapping her hands. “This is going to be so much fun!! A spring wedding will be so pretty!! You are going to be the most beautiful bride Marianne! And I'm going to be the prettiest maid of honor! And all the boys are going to fall in love with me!”

Marianne laughed. “Yes you are, and Dawn, you're a terrible flirt.”

“I'm not a flirt...I just like boys...all the boys...” Dawn grinned. “Until I find my prince charming.”

Marianne giggled. “What if he's a frog?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Dawn stuck her bottom lip out.

Marianne giggled, distracted from her pain by teasing her little sister. “You know...like in the stories, you might have to kiss a lot of frogs...”

That was the moment that there was the sound of a beast's roar, so loud, so terrifying, that the coach shook, the vibration rattled the heavy wood and made the glass in the windows shake, one of them cracking and spiderweb. The sound seemed to echo from the sky above. Dawn screamed, covering her ears. Her mother grabbed her youngest daughter, who had been sitting next to her and wrapped her arms around her to protect her. Marianne covered her ears, her eyes wide.

The coach shook and the horses let out tortured sounds of fear. The Queen and the princesses could hear the shouts of their guards, the yells of combat, the clash of metal, the screams of men dying, and the horrible sounds of horses being killed.

Queen Lily held Dawn, but Marianne reached for the door. “Marianne NO!”

Marianne turned. “Mother I have to...”

But her mother shouted, the words lost when Marianne had flung the door open, the sounds of fighting, the roar of some horrible beast ripped through the air again, then something heavy hit the coach. All of them screamed as the coach was knocked over sending them tumbling through the interior of the coach as the heavy wood structure began to roll.

Dawn was screaming and crying. Lily cried out holding onto her youngest daughter protectively and yelled for her eldest. Marianne cried out. She hit the ceiling hard, knocking the air from her lungs, preventing another scream. She was slammed to the side of the coach and felt one of her ribs pop; the pain flashed through her side taking the rest of her breath. She fell out the open door hitting the forest floor hard enough to rattle her teeth, her body rolling uncontrollably for a few seconds, the rough roots and brambles scraping and cutting into her.

Marianne continued to roll until she finally slammed into a tree, halting her descent down the hill.

She gasped painfully trying to draw air into her lungs.

Marianne shakily pushed herself up onto her hands with a wary look around. She could see the coach, watching as the coach rolled away from her. She could still hear the screams of her mother and sister, then something flew over her, a great shadow passed over blocking out the light and a heavy wind slammed her to the ground. Marianne cried out when she saw it. It was a frightening beast that for a moment reminded her of a hippalectryon, except the head was that of a great wolf flashed through her mind...the monster swept down on the coach slamming into it, it's great claws tearing into the wood. The monster crushed and splintered the coach under it as the monster continued to tear at it.

She screamed. “NO!!!”

She struggled to her feet, holding her side when she heard a voice behind her. “Oh now, don't worry about them buttercup.”

Marianne turned to see a handsome blonde man in armor who looked vaguely familiar. “Do...do I know you?”

The man grinned reaching up to twist a lock of his hair. “Oh you will buttercup, you will.”

That was when the great beast landed behind her, the ground shook causing Marianne to fall over, her feet sliding out from under her. She turned in a panic to see the beast rise up over her and flap its great leathery wings followed by a roar, but then blissful darkness took her.

*

It had begun to rain. Bog sighed making a moved on the chess board. Thang, who was sitting across from his prince, frowned at Bog's move. Bog usually massacred Thang at chess, but tonight he wasn't paying attention. Most of the evening, Bog just looked...forlorn.

Griselda sat by the fire in a large comfortable chair wearing a rich robe of faded red and an old pair of slippers and reading when she glanced up to look at her son when she heard Bog sigh again. She smiled at her son. When he finally realized he was in love, the poor dear fell hard.

“Bog sweetie, you can still write her you know? Why don't you work on a letter; it might make you feel better.” His mother said softly with just the slightest smirk.

Bog had been staring at the chess board, one finger idly moving his queen back and forth on her square, looked up, his whole face brightening. “I could, couldn't I?! Thank you mother! That's a wonderful idea!”

She smiled turning back to her book. “Anytime dear.”

Bog had just stood up to rush to his room to write when there was a knock at the door before it opened and the head of their guards, a large man named Brutus stuck his head in. “Your majesty, Prince Bog...we have a problem.”

*

Their small group was escorted to the castle's infirmary. The infirmary was a set of rooms that occupied the older part of the castle keep. The old keep—which was maintained to the highest standards—was used as a barracks for soldiers and guards, while the infirmary was located here as was a kitchen and a school room for the guards' children. Queen Griselda, Bog, Thang and Stuff followed Brutus through the rainy yard to the old keep and inside to the basement were the infirmary was located.

There they found the royal physician, a woman name Aura Plum. She was a little eccentric, but had proven again and again that she was an excellent doctor. With her white hair piled on her head and held in place by a variety of utensils, from quills to strange doctor's instruments, the doctor looked up from her patient when their group entered. She turned and bowed low to her queen and prince. Aura was dressed as she usually was in a long, shapeless light blue tunic and full pants with sandles (no matter the weather). “Your majesties!”

Bog stepped forward. “What's wrong? Brutus said something had happened involving Queen Lily's entourage.”

Aura nodded and stepped aside. Behind her was the patient she had been looking over, a young man that Bog recognized...one of the guards from Marianne's house, it took him a moment to remember than the young man's name was Aidren. Bog stepped closer. The man's torso was wrapped in so many bandages that his form couldn't be seen through them, but the white was stained angrily with blood, the red harsh against the white. He was breathing, but his breath sounded wet, the air seemed to rattle with a liquid, wheezing sound in his chest. Aura stepped closer to Bog leading the prince forward.

She spoke in a hushed voice. “He doesn't have long. He used what strength he had to get here; he wanted to speak to you Prince Bog.”

Bog nodded and dropped down to his knees next to the guard, taking the young man's hand. “I'm here,” Bog said softly.

The young man opened his eyes. He was pale, his body covered in a fine sweat and Bog could already see the light fading from the man's eyes. He grasped Bog's hand with as much strength as he had, his voice barely a whisper, as if it were taking all the young man's breath that was left in his body to speak. “A...a great animal came, it...it attacked us...it...it took the Princess Marianne.”

All color drained from Bog's features. “What?” He blinked and shook his head before he spoke again. “The Queen, Princess Dawn...did it take them too?”

The young man shook his head weakly. “No...no...dead...all dead...the great animal...it took her...”

With those last words, the young man breathed his final breath and went limp, his hand slipping through Bog's fingers.

Bog stared at the young man in horror before he stood, his legs weak for a moment, but he steeled himself and turned to his bodyguards. “Stuff, Thang, we're going.”

Griselda, who had turned as pale as a ghost, didn't try to stop her son, but she did reach out and place her hand on his forearm. “Bog, be careful.”

He patted his mother hand. “I will mother.”

*

Soon Bog, his bodyguards and a squad containing nine of the castle's best men and women soldiers, all armed to the teeth, set off to follow the trail that Marianne's coach would have taken back to the port. They rode hard for over an hour before they found evidence of the attack. As they brought their horses to a stop, Bog leapt down pulling his blade in a smooth motion the moment his feet touched the ground.

The now muddy path was littered with the remains of a battle, the rain doing its best to destroy what evidence remained. The dead were scattered everywhere; men, women and horses alike. For a moment Bog just stood there staring in horror. He had seen death before, but this—this was a massacre. He felt Stuff and Thang come up on either side of him. Thang was the one to speak as he pointed with his blade. “There sir, there is evidence of the coach, there in the mud.”

Bog turned to follow Thang's gaze. The ground had been ripped up and there was a wheel from the coach on the ground. Bog jogged over to the wheel, looking down the hillside. The rain was picking up, which was obscuring evidence as well as his sight, but he spotted the coach down below in the darkness, smashed against some trees, the horses lying dead near it.

Bog took off at a run down the hill toward the coach. Thang and Stuff ran after him, keeping pace with their prince. When Bog arrived at the smashed remains of the coach, his heart sank—no one could have survived. But that was when he heard a faint moan of pain. He turned to his guards with wide eyes. “Hurry!! Someone is still alive in there!” Soon all of the soldiers were down the hillside with Bog, everyone working to remove the shattered remains of the coach. After a few moments of tearing through the debris Bog saw the hints of clothing.

“Faster!!” Bog yelled.

Soon Bog saw her, the bloody and broken body of Queen Lily.

“Oh no...” he whispered mournfully.

He checked her pulse though he knew what he would find. Bog's bottom lip trembled as he fought to control his pain. Queen Lily was dead. Bog gently reached out and brushed his fingers along her face. She was like a second mother to him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered but then he heard the moan again. Bog blinked back his tears. The sound seemed to come from under Lily. He quickly, though gently, with the help of Thang and Stuff, moved the Queen's body to find Princess Dawn lying under her mother.

“Dawn!” Bog gasped he dropped down to ease the tiny princess into his arms. “Dawn? Oh Dawn please.” Bog couldn't stop the tears now as he held the delicate little princess who was just as much a little sister to him as Queen Lily had been like a mother.

“Dawn, please answer me.” Bog pleaded. Dawn's face was covered in blood, one of her arms looked to be broken and maybe one of her legs. She was battered and bruised, but she was still breathing. Dawn's eyes fluttered open, when her gaze focused on Bog she cried. “BOGGY! Oh BOGGY!” she curled her entire body into him. “Oh Boggy.”

Bog stood up, he was trembling, but he held Dawn securely to him. “Check the rest of the coach for Princess Marianne. I know Aidren said she was taken, but I want the coach checked to be sure. Find any evidence you can. I'm taking the princess back to the castle.”

One of the soldiers, a tall young woman with green eyes nodded. “Yes sire. It will be done.”

Bog inclined his head in thanks before hurrying to his horse.

*

Two days passed before Dawn opened her eyes again. Neither evidence was found of the great animal nor was Princess Marianne found. Bog spent the two days at Dawn's bedside unwilling to leave her. Her left arm was bound in a cast as was her right leg. She had broken several ribs and hit her head, though Aura had taken Bog and Griselda aside after tending to Dawn's wounds, her voice hushed. “If Queen Lily hadn't used her body to shield her daughter, Dawn very well might have died too.”

Griselda, wiped her tear stained face. “Lily would be so thankful.”

Bog squeezed his mother's shoulders, giving what comfort he could.

That second night after Marianne's disappearance, Bog was sitting at Dawn's bedside. She was not kept in the infirmary, but in the bedroom she usually occupied when she spent the summers here. Aura had thought it might be a good idea for Dawn to wake in familiar surroundings. Bog had brought in several candles as well as flowers, making the room warm and inviting for Dawn. He wanted her to wake to something pleasant. That evening he was sitting in a chair by her bedside reading out loud to her unconscious form from a book of fairy tales that he knew she loved. Dawn was always pestering him to read to her because she said she liked the sound of his voice. Bog would always give her a hard time about it before he would always give in and read to her.

“'Now it so happened that on one occasion the princess's golden ball did not fall into the little hand which she was holding up for it, but on to the ground beyond, and rolled straight into the water. The King's daughter followed it with her eyes, but it vanished, and the well was deep, so deep that the bottom could not be seen. On this she began to cry, and cried louder and louder, and could not be comforted. And as she thus lamented, some one said to her, "What ails thee, King's daughter? Thou weepest so that even a stone would show pity." She looked round to the side from whence the voice came, and saw a frog stretching forth its thick, ugly head from the water...”'

Dawn's voice said softly. “I always thought that was a lot of fuss over a ball.”

Bog nearly dropped the book. “Dawn!”

He hurried to her side, dropping to his knees to take her hand. “You had me so scared Dawn,” he said softly rubbing her hand.

She smiled weakly. “Boggy.” She sniffled, tears immediately running down her cheeks. “Oh Boggy it was terrible! A monster came! It ripped Marianne away...my mother...”

Dawn tried to push herself up groaning in pain. “Mother?? Where's my mother?”

Bog squeezed his eyes shut on the pain, his voice hushed. “Dawn...”

Dawn stared at him, then began to cry in earnest. “No...no no no no...”

Bog stood up and sat on the side of the bed, gathering Dawn into his arms and held her. She held on desperately to him sobbing until she had no breath left and fell into a fitful sleep much, much later.

*

Two night earlier.

Rothbart and Roland stood on the edge of the lake near their home watching the beautiful swan swim slowly. Roland hadn't seen what had happened to Marianne. His father, transformed into a monster, had swept in and taken the princess. When he had arrived home the princess was nowhere to be seen. When Roland had asked his father, Rothbart had just told him to wait until that evening and all questions would be answered.

So, here they were by the lake watching a stupid water fowl swim.

“I mean, it's a beautiful swan and all father, but...what about princess Marianne?” Roland groaned looking around.

Rothbart chuckled. “Roland my son, be patient, just watch.”

The full moon was high above them now, its beams gliding across the lake causing the water to shimmer and dance. Roland watched, frowning as the swan began to shimmer as well, the moon's light made the birds wings sparkle, then glow. A fountain of water rose up slowly, gracefully covering the swam for just a blink of an eye, then as the water flowed back down into the lake, Princess Marianne stood in the swan's place.

Rothbart smiled at Roland. “That's how the spell works. Every night when the moon rises she returns to her human form, only when she is on the lake that is, the moonlight has to touch her wings while she is on the lake.”

Roland blinked in astonishment.

Marianne turned to glare at them walking across the water until she met the shore. “What do you want from me?! Where is my mother and sister!”

Rothbart chuckled. “I want your kingdom princess and I do believe your mother and sister are dead.”

“What? No...no you're lying!” Marianne's voice sounded desperate...then she hissed, tears at the edges of her eyes threatening to fall. “You can try taking the kingdom. My father will fight you the moment you try.”

Rothbart grinned. “Why lie? The truth is so much more...painful.” He grinned at her. Marianne was trembling in pain, her sister...her mother. She felt a great darkness opening in her heart, the place where her mother and sister dwelled—the pain was almost too much.

Rothbart ignored her obvious distress and continued. “Well see, there's the rub princess. Once you steal something, you spend your whole life fighting to keep it. But, if you marry my son Roland here....” Rothbart gave Roland a shove forward. Roland grinned giving her his best “come hither” smile that made her insides want to revolt. Marianne narrowed her eyes, now that she looked at him... the young man from the wood...she remembered him...then it dawned on her where else she had seen him... “You work at Bog's castle...one of the guards...”

Roland grinned. “Ah, yes, you got me.”

Rothbart smiled. “Now see, you marry my son...then I can rule through the both of you, legally without worry about anyone trying to take the crown from the true heir...the Princess Marianne. Just have to kill your father, but that part is easy.”

“I'll never marry your son!” Marianne yelled and took off at a run toward the woods. Rothbart laughed. “Oh Princess Marianne, where are you going my dear? As soon as the moonlight leaves the lake...you return to a swan. No matter where you are...a voiceless, defenseless swan.”

Marianne stopped in her tracks, her eyes going wide. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she felt the truth of her situation fall in on her, but she refused to turn around and let them see her cry.

Chapter Text

The first night of Marianne's captivity under the curse, she had spent her time hidden away on the water, then when the change overtook her, she had found a quiet place in the nearby woods to hide and cry herself asleep until she woke as a swan again. She had awakened on the second night angry with herself for giving in to despair, scolding herself. She could not give up hope. Bog loved her and she loved him. There had to be a way.

That second night, as the moon began its slow rise into the sky, Marianne was swimming slowly on the lake, her mind working as she tried to formulate a plan to break her own curse. She had no idea where she was or even how far this place was from Bog's castle. She reasoned it had to be relatively near—considering they were ambushed on the trail—but the woods were dense and wild looking. One could easily hide an entire castle in the forest. She sighed. There could be miles and miles between where she was and where Bog was, and in any direction. Her head sank in despair and she stared at her reflection; the gaze of a white swan met her eyes in the water. She knew she was brooding when she heard that annoying whistle. She had heard it last night, but she had chosen to stay hidden from him. Tonight, she needed to see if there was a way she could garner some hints to her location. Marianne looked up to see Roland.

He stood on the edge of the lake, leaning against one of the huge, ancient trees that surrounded the large lake like old guardians. He was grinning, a large, perfect, white tooth smiled. She hated it.

Marianne narrowed her eyes when she saw him. He made a motion with his finger for her to come closer. As he leaned against the tree trunk, with his thumbs hooked in his belt, he leveled a grin at her and waited until the moment the moonlight danced over the lake and caressed her wings. Within a heart's beat of time, she was human again. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at Roland as she walked across the lake to the shore, the magic allowing her to glide across the water even in her human form.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Roland cooed and winked at her. He looked like a storybook prince charming in his dark green knee-length tunic trimmed with gold thread that was stitched around the collar and cuffs of the tunic in intricate flowers, a thick leather belt around his waist and knee high leather boots. His blonde hair curled across his forehead and the moon's light made his hair shimmer like gold. Any woman could fall for him if they didn't know better or weren't already in love with a real prince charming. Roland looked the part, but unlike Bog, he would never be a real fairytale prince. Marianne did her best to keep her complete and utter look of disgust from showing in her expression, as well as the pain she felt. Thinking of Bog brought tears to her eyes, she could feel them stinging her. The image of his face fading away from her as he stood watching her leave, combined with knowing that if they had just stayed...her mother and sister would still be alive, still with her. Marianne swallowed down her pain. She simply stared at Roland, the snake, a horrible evil snake. She could only control herself so much.

“What are you doing here?” Marianne hissed, momentarily proud of herself for not shouting.

“Well I came last night too, Buttercup, but you seemed to have hidden yourself away. But, I thought I would come by again tonight and ask you to marry me princess.”

Roland smiled broadly, showing all his teeth.

Marianne narrowed her eyes in irritation. “I will never marry you.”

“But Buttercup, don't you want to break the spell?” Roland looked confused. “I mean, look at me! Any woman in your place would be throwing herself at my feet.” Roland smiled and spun in place to show her all of him.

Marianne's lip curled in disgust, but then she blinked as a thought came to her.

“Why? Is that the only way to break the spell? Marry you?” Marianne asked, her voice light as she walked away from him to stroll along the edge of the lake. She ran her fingers through her hair, letting it fall down her back. She was using the gestures to hide her nervousness, but also to (she choked down the threat of bile) flirt with the bastard. He seemed the type to like to hear himself talk. Perhaps getting him to tell her how to break the spell would not be difficult...

She grabbed the side of her dress, a soft lavender charmeuse and lace dress that she could feel was now partially enchanted by the magic, the way it flowed around her more part of her than not. She moved the hem of the dress just enough to show a bit of her calf. She glanced over her shoulder smiling slightly as she saw his eyes were on her legs. Idiot, she thought.

Roland hurried to catch up, wanting to show off with how much he knew and blundered on. “Well, no. My father said that your true love could break the spell if he declared his love in front of the world. But that's not ever going to happen. I mean really, first he would have to know what happened, which he doesn't, and then he would have to be your true love, which I seriously doubt he is. Seriously, Marianne. Bleh...I still can't believe you kissed him. A beauty like you kissing a beast like that?!” Roland shook his head, but then smiled at her clearly thinking he had given her a compliment or some such that would please her.

Marianne's hands balled into fists when he spoke of Bog. She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to snap back or to attack him. A calming breath and then she let a slight smile brush across her lips as she thought about breaking his nose, but no. She couldn't be sure his father wouldn't do something worse to her than he already had. She just had to make Roland think she was considering his proposal until she found a way to get to Bog...a way to tell him she was here.

She swallowed and refrained from responding to what Roland said, choosing to ignore his remarks about Bog, telling herself that she would get her revenge...she would make him pay. But for now, she had a part to play.

“So if I agree to marry you, your father will lift the spell?” Marianne stopped and turned on the water to ask.

Roland grinned. “That's all it takes, Buttercup. Just say yes and my father will lift the spell, we'll get married and everything will be wonderful! We can live large, buying clothes, eating sweets, and my father can run the kingdom.”

Marianne turned. “No.”

Roland stopped in his tracks, staring at her in confusion. “What?”

“I'll not marry you. If you want my hand, then you have to work a lot harder than this.” She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin in defiance.

Roland's mouth dropped open. “But...”

“Just because I'm cursed doesn't mean I have to make it easy for you.” Marianne sneered. “Now go away.”

Roland frowned as he watched her walk away, but then he grinned. A challenge! He would just have to dig up every ounce of charm and woo her. Yes, that was what he needed to do! Woo her! Roland grinned hurrying away; he loved to play the wooing game! The chase was the best part he thought to himself as he wandered back to his home.

*

Three weeks passed. A pall had settled over the castle, everyone felt it, a depression that seeped into every aspect of life at the castle. Queen Lily's body was sent back to her home, but Dawn was unable to travel. Her father sent several guards to Bog in order to help with protecting his youngest daughter, but he had also put them in Bog's hands to use as he needed to find his eldest daughter; it seemed that King Dagda was the only one who believed that Marianne might be alive besides Bog.

Griselda had watched her son turn into a stranger, a single-minded man who no longer had time for the things that he once enjoyed: horse-back riding, piano, drawing...all the things that brought him pleasure, all the things he had shared each summer with Marianne. Now Bog had only one passion—training. Bog had divided his time between research for hours in the royal libraries, searching for any reference to a great animal, and training...constantly pushing his body to the limits.

She had watched him spending hours on end practicing with his sword, fighting with his bodyguards and other warriors, learning different techniques, styles, and maneuvers. Stuff and Thang trained just as hard as Bog, pushing their prince to his limits. If Bog wasn't doing one of those two things, he was spending any other free moments with Dawn. The only time Griselda ever saw her son smile now was when he was with Dawn. Their relationship had given her an idea. Perhaps, just perhaps she could convince Princess Dawn and Bog to marry...they cared about one another even if it wasn't love, not like what he had shared with Marianne, but they could still be happy together. Yes, it was more a brother and sister bond, she could see it when they were together, but maybe it could slowly grow into more. They cared a great deal about each other, but they were not in love. Regardless, it could bloom eventually when they both came to grips with the fact that Marianne was lost. If an animal had taken her, then...

Griselda closed her eyes. She was sitting by the fire with her book, though she wasn't reading, instead she had been staring into the flame, all these thoughts tumbling through her mind. She didn't want to say anything, but how long should she let this go on? The boy needed to mourn, but he wasn't allowing himself. Rather, he was hanging on to a false hope that Marianne was alive, out there, somewhere, waiting for him to find her, and the longer it went on, the worse it would be for him when reality came crashing in on him. She had seen men and women crushed under the weight of such grief.

Griselda opened her eyes again, wiped away a few tears that threatened to fall. As she stared into the fire, an idea formed. A party...a grand ball. She could invite other princesses from far and wide. Maybe, if not Dawn, then maybe someone else would catch her son's eye...

*

The fall chill was in the air despite the morning breaking clear and sunny. Bog had brought Dawn outside in a wheeled chair so she could get some sunshine. She had also asked to watch Bog train. She looked small and frail in her long white nightgown and a soft blue robe over that with blankets piled on her legs and around her shoulders, but she was smiling, which was a nice change from brooding. The young princess's smile always made Bog feel better.

Stuff and Thang both were standing a little distance away, their weapons out. With her hair pulled back and twisted on top of her head, held in place by two small daggers, Stuff looked menacing as usual in her armored and leather gear and large weapon, Dawn thought. Even with the cooling weather, Stuff was dressed in an thick leather breastplate that only seemed to enhance her breasts and show off her heavily muscled stomach and arms. She also wore a skirt of thick leather and armored boots, but chose to wear no other protection. Next to her, Thang looked small, though it was clear the man was quick. Unlike his counterpart, he was covered from head to toe, wearing an armored breastplate, vambraces, and epaulets over a thick brown tunic, leather pants, greaves, and armored boots.

Bog wore a dark blue kilt and a simple linen shirt, over which he had donned a thick leather breastplate studded with metal. He wore thick black leather boots with greaves protecting his legs and gauntlet covered his forearms. Dawn was impressed with Bog. They had already gone three rounds, with Bog soundly beating his own guards. She could tell Stuff was actually annoyed, but Thang was thrilled with Bog...which she found really sweet. But Dawn also took notice of how Thang kept staring at Stuff when she wasn't looking...and Stuff was doing the same to him. Dawn smiled at that. She had very little to do but brood between the times that she wasn't with Bog or Griselda; perhaps playing matchmaker was something she could do to get her mind off her sister...

Bog snarled. He was sweating despite the morning chill, his muscles straining as he demanded, “Again!”

Stuff held her axe in one hand, taking up a fighting position (all weapon edges were covered to prevent any fatal injuries despite Bog suggesting that they fight realistically). She narrowed her eyes at her prince. She wasn't use to being bested, by anyone, but her prince had become, steadier and steadier, better than her. He was fast, strong and deadly. She acknowledged silently that she would have died at least twice just this morning if Bog wasn't holding back. It simultaneously infuriated her and made her proud that she and Thang had made their prince so deadly that he really didn't need them.

Stuff glanced at Thang and nodded. The shorter man grinned up at her with big puppy dog eyes then just as suddenly his face turned stern and he and Stuff charged Bog. Dawn watched in awe as Bog, moving with speed and grace, blocked each of their blows. He twisted and turned like a dancer, keeping Stuff and Thang on the defensive. He separated Thang from Stuff's side with a series of rapid sword blows, impressively fast footwork, and a few kicks, driving the smaller man back before he twisted and landed what would have been a fatal blow. Stuff rushed at Bog's unprotected side, but he ducked and spun so quickly that she blinked in confusion as his sword arm extended in such a way that he would have sliced Stuff's legs out from under her.

All three of them stood, panting. Bog growled. “Again.”

That was when his mother, who had been quietly watching from the shadows of the doorway, interrupted. “I think that is enough for today Bog. I need to speak with you darling. You and Dawn.”

Bog frowned wiping his brow. “Fine. For now,” he relented.

He motioned at Stuff and Thang. “Go bathe. I'll be with my mother in the study.”

Stuff nodded, turning to smack Thang on the back with a smirk. “Come on.”

Dawn watched them go as Bog walked over to turn her chair around and wheel her inside. His mother held the heavy wood door open for them. Once in the hall, Griselda strode ahead of them leading them to the study. Her long maple colored dress made a soft rustling sound as its hem dragged along the stone corridor.

Dawn waited until Griselda was out of earshot before she leaned her head back to look up at Bog. “Bog...would you help me with a project?”

Bog smiled looking down on her as he pushed the chair. “And what would that be sunshine?”

She giggled at his choice of nickname for her and her proposed plan. “Stuff and Thang, they like each other right?”

Bog frowned in thought. “I suppose so.”

She giggled again with a roll of her eyes. “You are so blind. Anyway, I want to get them together. It's clear they fancy each other.”

Bog furrowed his brown, leaning down to Dawn as he pushed. “What are you getting at?”

Dawn grinned. “Matchmaking!”

Bog chuckled. “Oh no. Yer trouble sunshine.”

She smiled contently. “Love is in the air and I'm going to get those two together!”

Bog chuckled. “All right,” he said with a tiny shake of his head. “I'll help ye.”

Dawn clapped her hands. “Yeah!”

*

Bog pushed Dawn into the study where his mother had a fire going in the fireplace. She had already taken her seat next to a large oak table where she had some tea and cakes waiting for them. Bog pulled a rag from his belt to wipe his face after he had settled Dawn by the fire. He leaned by the fireplace wiping the sweat from his face. “So what do you need mother?” he asked simply.

“Well, I'm thinking about having a party,” Griselda explained as she poured the tea and handed a cup to Dawn.

Bog frowned at the notion. “What?”

“Just a little party, son. Something to chase away the gloom.” The queen smiled reassuringly. “Something for Dawn to get dressed up for.”

Dawn frowned with a hint of her bottom lip jutting out. “I won't be able to dance.”

“Well, it wouldn't be for another few weeks. Perhaps by then you might be able to dance a little. But I could have the court seamstress make you a lovely dress...” She glanced at Bog. “A new kilt for you, music, laughter. It's just...the castle needs something after all the pain...” Griselda sighed. She realized she did actually need this party too. Losing Marianne had been like losing a daughter, whereas Lily's death felt as if she had lost a sister. Just thinking about it brought tears to Griselda's eyes, and suddenly the whole idea of finding her son someone else to love didn't seem right. She just wanted to see some happiness again...

Bog walked over to where his mother sat and leaned down to hug his mother tightly. “Fine, we can have a party. Just as long as it doesn't interfere with my training.” Griselda returned her son's hug, but she asked softly, “Have you learned anything new?”

“I found a book that referred to a great animal being a spell...a spell of transformation that the caster could use to be any animal it wanted...” Bog said, softly taking the cup of tea his mother handed him.

“Anything at all? How on earth would you know?” Griselda asked.

Bog pulled a chair from the corner to sit next to Dawn and face his mother. “I don't know mother, but...something took Marianne. I know in my heart of hearts she's alive. I...I can't explain it, but I know—she is waiting for me to find her.”

Griselda reached over to touch her son's knee. “Bog, what if...”

As Bog stared back at his mother, she could see the pain clear as day in his blue eyes. No woman in all the world would take his heart...it was completely Marianne's...she sighed. “Just promise me Bog...don't let this consume you.”

Bog smiled softly. “I'll try not to mother, but I have to get her back...I have to. And I will find her.”

*

It was dark, the morning sun an hour or two away yet. A light fog rolled across the surface of the lake as Marianne swam lazily on the water, gliding among the lily pads, her mind on her problem. She was frustrated. She had no idea where she was or how to find Bog. She could fly as a swan, but fly where? She could fly for hours and be going the wrong direction. She needed to find a map, something to tell her where she was in relation to Bog's home. Marianne sighed softly, fighting back tears when she heard a voice.

“Are you a real princess?”

Marianne made a honk, her wings snapping out and flapping against the water nearly capsizing herself in her startlement. She turned around where she saw a small frog sitting on a lily pad staring up at her. As frogs went, he was a handsome frog with shiny green skin and a red patch on the top of his head. And she couldn't be sure, but the frog looked to have...freckles? Marianne frowned then softly asked as she examined the frog.

“Did you just talk?”

The frog seemed to grin. “Sure did.”

Marianne squawked in surprise again, her wings splashing the water for a moment as she jumped back. The frog put his front feet up. “Whoa, whoa, sorry princess!”

Marianne took a few calming breaths. “Sorry...just...” She giggled. “I don't know what I'm so shocked about. I am a swan after all.” She giggled again.

The frog stood up on his back legs and took a bow. “My name is Sunny, traveling minstrel.”

Marianne smiled and bowed her head. “Princess Marianne. Ah...so, how did a minstrel turn into a frog?”

Sunny shrugged. “Came to the wrong castle looking for work. That dark wizard Rothbart decided instead of just sending me away, this punishment for disturbing him was more appropriate.” Sunny sighed sadly. “I've been this way now for...a year I suppose?”

Marianne gasped. “A year! I'm so sorry.”

Sunny shrugged. “Could be worse. I could be dead. Though...I'm beginning to like the taste of insects, which is not something I thought I would ever say.”

Marianne swam closer, leaning her long neck down to look Sunny in the eye as she spoke. “So, are you like me? Cursed?”

Sunny nodded. “Yes. The only way my spell can be broken is by the true love's kiss...from a princess.”

“Oh,” Marianne said softly.

Sunny nodded. “I know. My chances of that ever happening are about as good as my being asked to play for Queen Griselda's court as I am right now...the frog minstrel. I'm doomed to be a frog.” Sunny sighed sadly, but then he smiled at her.

“Do you change back to human when the moonlight touched the lake?” Marianne asked tilting her head.

Sunny shook his head. “No, I stay this way, day in and day out...until a princess falls in love with me.”

Marianne frowned. “I'm so sorry Sunny.”

He shrugged and smiled. Marianne liked him instantly. Despite his situation, he somehow managed to maintain a little cheer...a lot like her sister, she thought.

Sunny ribbited then asked. “So princess...how is your curse to be broken? I mean, besides marrying that ninnyhammer?”

Marianne giggled softly. “My true love must declare everlasting love...in front of the world.”

Sunny frowned. “Oh.”

“Yes.” Marianne said softly. “I do have a true love though...and I know he would do it...if he could find me.”

Sunny ribbited. “Excuse me. Ah...does he live around here?”

Marianne looked up to the sky. “Yes, but...I have no idea where I am. I wouldn't know where to begin to find him.” Her voice softened as her tone conveyed her sorrow. “I...I feel so hopeless...”

Sunny frowned, but then slowly a smile formed across his little green face. “I bet Rothbart knows where your true love is.”

Marianne shrugged her wings. “I don't think he would tell me...and I don't think even Roland is that stupid.”

Sunny chuckled. “Well, I don't know about that. But...what if Rothbart has a map? He's sure to have something in that dusty old castle. This place wasn't easy for me to find, so I would guess that he might have a map of the area, his relationship to the castle...this is Queen Griselda's kingdom, if he's been here plotting, you have to know where your enemy is so that they don't find you. At least if I were an evil wizard...I would like a map.” Sunny gave a froggy shrug.

Marianne frowned and pressed her beak closed in thought, then said softly. “It's worth a try. I can't think of any other options. But how do we get in there? I don't think he's going to let a frog and a swan that he cursed come waltzing in and search for a map.”

Sunny smiled. “We'll just have to be careful. Do a little quiet search. You could fly us in, then swoop...” Sunny made a motion with one of his webbed feet. “Fly us right back out...” His wide mouth broadened into a grin.

Marianne nodded. “I have to do something. I can't just wait to be rescued...I have to help myself.” She nodded again with more determination.

*

The morning sun had risen, casting a soft glow over everything as Marianne and Sunny crept closer to the castle. They had thought about waiting until night had fallen, but Marianne had said that Roland would show up...as he did every night, so they decided for a daytime break-in.

Marianne and Sunny gazed up at the castle. Though a ruin, the castle still had a presence about it, like an old soldier on his last legs, still strong though slowly weakening over time. Marianne and Sunny stopped in the shade of an overgrown oakleaf hydrangea watching the castle. Marianne's gaze moved up the stone wall to a couple of windows. One had crumbled along the edges, (though there was still a ledge she could land on) providing a wider opening than the other one.

Marianne pointed with one wing. “There, you see that window...there's no glass in it. I could fly in through there. Hop onto my back Sunny.”

Sunny frowned. “I'm not too keen on flying.”

Marianne looked down at him. “I'll be careful, I promise. And,” she added. “It was your idea.”

Sunny grimaced, but nodded. “Okay princess.”

Marianne smiled and lowered her neck to give Sunny better access to leaping onto her back. Sunny crouched down, wiggling his backside. He whispered to himself. “You can do this Sunny...flying's not so bad. Yeah...might be fun...” Sunny jumped and landed on her back. Once there he struggled for a moment as he did his best to hold on with his froggy limbs. Marianne poked her head out from under the shadows of the plant and glanced around. She neither saw nor heard any movement, no voices...she stepped out quickly and with a great flap of her wings, she propelled herself up toward the window. She struggled just a little; flying was such an odd sensation. She wobbled back and forth for a moment, then, just when she didn't think she was going to make it, she suddenly straightened out and flew!

Marianne was so pleased, she was doing it!!

She made her way to the window without too much dipping and wobbling (though Sunny yelped a few times and promised that if he vomited, he would try to miss her feathers) when she finally made the window. She landed on the edge, lost her balance before she toppled head first into the room.

Marianne barely stifled her squawk when she tumbled inside. Sunny leapt clear of her, landing on the remains of a stool, sticking to the furniture's leg as Marianne tumbled across the floor in a twist of wings and webbed feet coming to an ungraceful stop at the crumbling remains of a dresser. Sunny looked around hurriedly. No one in the room, and after holding his breath to the count of ten, he heard no movement or reaction to Marianne's less than graceful landing.

Sunny frowned slightly. “You all right princess?”

Marianne pushed herself to her feet and shook her head. “Yes, yes, I'm all right.”

She turned around to look at Sunny. “So, where do we look?”

Sunny narrowed his eyes in thought...then turned to Marianne. “This is a bedroom...there might a study which would be the most likely place for a map...I suppose. I mean...I don't know, but...”

“No, no you're right,” she agreed. “Let's go!”

They made their way out of the crumbling remains of the bedroom, the rotted ghostly remains of an old wooden door hanging on its rusted hinges led out into an old and dusty hall. Marianne looked around slowly. The hall was long, the floor covered in the faded remains of a carpet, holes showing the stone floor underneath. The walls held the molding and fading tapestries hung on the walls along with faded and deteriorating paintings. Marianne waddled slowly down the hall with Sunny at her side. The hall had several doorways, maybe four or five rooms to investigate. Marianne sighed. “Looking through all those rooms is going to take a long time...”

“Maybe we should split up?” Sunny asked softly.

Marianne shook her head. “No...let me think... the study would usually be the room that would get the most sun...so...the that means the southern most room.” Sunny made another disheartening realization while looking down the hall. “All the doors seem attached to the rest of the rooms...how are we going to open any of the doors? Neither one of us has hands...or the strength to open them.”

Marianne frowned as best she could with a beak. “We'll...we'll figure out something,” she said softly, trying to hold back mounting despair.

Together they made their way down the hall, heading to what they hoped was the correct room just as they heard Roland's grumpy sounding voice drifting up from below.

“Why do I have to go get it?”

Rothbart responded. “Because I'm your father and if you want to be king, you will do as I order. Now go get the book!”

“FINE!”

Which was followed by the loud stomps of feet on stairs somewhere behind them. Marianne gasped. “Come on!!”

They raced down the hall toward a doorway only just realizing as they came up to the oak door that they had no way of opening it! Marianne cursed. “Bejabbers!”

Sunny gasped in surprise at hearing the princess curse. She grabbed him and they pressed themselves against the door hoping the shadows of the alcove were enough to hide them. Seconds later the loud stomps of Roland's booted feet on the floor came echoing down the hallway accompanied by his muttering. Marianne held her breath, praying that Roland was as clueless and blind as he seemed to be. And within a couple of tense heartbeats...Roland walked by them, muttering under his breath. “Stupid old man. When I'm king I'm going to throw him in the dungeon...”

He headed down the hall, opening the farthest room, down the hall on their left. Marianne narrowed her eyes...he was up here for a book...that had to be the study!! Roland was in the room for nearly a full minute before he came out again carrying a book and still muttering. Marianne would have clenched her teeth if she had them as she watched Roland coming down the hall hoping that he would pass them again and was rewarded when the bitterly muttering young man walked past without ever noticing them.

Marianne hissed at Sunny. “Now, come on before the door closes!”

The two enchanted people hurried as best their animal forms could managed, slipping into the room just as the heavy oak door made its slow way closed, catching Marianne by her tail feathers just as she slipped into the room. Marianne stifled a squawk of pain as several of her feathers were pulled out by the door coming close on her tail.

Marianne blinked back tears looking back at her tail. It was almost like having her hair pulled from her scalp.

Sunny, who had moved quicker than the princess, arrived in the room ahead of her and turned. “You okay princess?”

Marianne nodded. “Yes...just not accustomed to having a tail.”

Marianne smiled as she looked around the room, shaking off the pain. The room was filled with wall to wall books, but what really made her smile was the tapestry map that hang on the wall over an ancient looking fireplace.

“Sunny look! There!” She pointed with a wing.

Sunny looked up and grinned. “It's a map!”

Marianne hopped up, her wings lifting her up and helping her to land on the fireplace's mantel in order to look at the map. After a series of hops, Sunny landed next to her, both of them gazing at the intricately detailed map. Marianne grinned, her voice soft. “It's a map of the Dark Forest Kingdom...Bog's home.”

“Bog?” Sunny asked.

Marianne blushed. “Prince Bog...my fiance. His mother is Queen Griselda...on our marriage he would become ruler. This...this is it!” She pointed with her wing. “Right there is the castle...and this...”

She pointed again. “I can't be completely certain, but I think this is where we are...there is the road from the castle to the docks...” Marianne murmured more to herself than to Sunny. “We were ambushed along here....so that would mean that this ruin should be located around here...” She motioned to a large section of forest. “I can't be positive...but I think if I fly this direction...I should find Bog's home.” She sighed. “I just can't be sure.”

Sunny turned to look at Marianne with a smile. “It better than nothing at all, princess.”

She nodded. “You're right. It's a start and it's hope...something I didn't have before.” She looked back up at the map and whispered softly. “I'm coming Bog.”

That was the moment the door opened behind them and Roland came walking in muttering loudly. “Not the right book Roland! Are you stupid Roland? Can't you read Roland...wait...WHAT? Marianne?”

Marianne and Sunny turned to see Roland staring wide eyed and mouth hanging open at the two them. His expression would having been comical Marianne thought, under different circumstances. Marianne hissed at Sunny. “Hop on!”

Sunny didn't ask any questions or hesitate, leaping onto the princess's back just as she leapt from the mantel and flew herself straight at Roland's face. Roland squawked in a comical way bringing his hands up and letting out a very undignified string of curse words.

“GET OUT OF MY FACE YOU SARDING CUNT!” Roland screamed as Marianne's wings beat into his face, but Marianne also took the opportunity to use her beak, slamming the hard edge into his face, hitting his nose and cheeks. Roland yelped and fell away, leaving the door open. Marianne burst through and flew with all her might down the hall heading for the bedroom they had entered the castle through. She slammed into the wall when she tired to turn, flapping her wings as she struggled to keep herself airborne just as Roland came out of the study. “Marianne, come back!”

She heard the voice of Rothbart from below. “Roland, what are you doing?”

Marianne gasped falling into the bedroom as she lost control, tumbling head over tail into the room only to smash against the wall right under the window she needed.

Marianne wobbled to her webbed feet with a gasp. “SUNNY?”

Sunny muttered. “Still here...I think.”

Roland slid across the floor in the corridor, stopping in the doorway to the bedroom. His face was covered in angry red peck marks. “MARIANNE!” he yelled.

She yelped, leaping into the air and flapping her wings as hard as she could. She made the ledge of the window and fell out just as Roland lunged for her. Sunny let out a loud, “WHOOP!” of excitement when Marianne grasped the air with her wings, turning her long neck back to see Roland leaning out the window staring after her, his mouth hanging open.

Sunny chuckled. “That was amazing princess!”

Marianne grinned and said, “Let's go find Bog!”

*

It was late afternoon when Bog, flanked by Stuff and Thang, headed out to the stables. Thang frowned as the three of them walked swiftly. “But sire, if the great animal can change into anything, how will you know when you find it?”

Bog frowned. “I'll...I'll just know.”

Stuff glanced at Thang and shrugged.

*

A couple of hours later the trio were in the woods near where Marianne had disappeared. The three of them rode in a line, following a hunting trail into the thickest parts of the forest. Bog frowned as he peered around slowly. The leaves were just beginning to change color here and there, a few fluttering down silently on the breeze that blew lazily through the branches with the occasional sound of a bird echoing through the trees.

Bog frowned, studying the forest, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to the location of the creature he was hunting.

Thang asked quietly looking over his shoulder at Stuff. “These woods feel haunted, don't they?”

Stuff grunted. “Don't let your imagination get the better of you.”

Thang nodded. “I know...but don't you feel it?”

Bog turned to glance back at Thang. “No, you're right Thang—I feel it too...”

*

Marianne groaned softly. “I think I need to land for a little bit. Flying is a lot harder than I would have ever thought!”

Sunny, who was still sitting on her back and holding on for his life nodded. “That sounds nice. The ground sounds really nice.”

Marianne smiled slowly, easing herself down toward the woods. Water would be the ideal landing plac, especially since she was still struggling with her landings, but she felt confident enough that she could land on the ground—despite the trees below—without planting her face in the dirt, or worse. She began her slow descent, letting herself glide on the breeze past the trees and swooping rather elegantly (if she did think so herself) through the branches.

She had just made her way through the thick branches, heading toward a hopefully soft landing when she heard a voice among the trees.

“Sire? I thought I heard something over that way.”

“I heard it too Stuff, it came from over this direction.”

Marianne lost control of her descent when she heard the sound of Bog's voice among the trees. She tilted too far, one wing coming down too low, brushing a branch. She was thrown off her course, causing her to fumble her landing just as Sunny yelled. “WATCH OUT!”

Marianne crashed headlong into a small pile of leaves before rolling and stumbling into a bush. Her head popped out a couple of seconds later, spitting leaves. “Sunny!! Sunny!! That was Bog!! I heard him!! He's here!”

Sunny came hopping out of the bushes looking annoyed. “Princess I don't mean to be rude, but you really need to work on your landings.”

Marianne yanked herself out of the bush looking around. “Bog's here Sunny! He's here!”

Sunny frowned hopping closer to her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes! I heard his voice!” Excitement made her reckless as she immediately started to take wing again. Sunny took a large hop landing on her back just as she took to the air again.

*

Bog frowned as a flash of white in the distance caught his eye. He motioned for Thang and Stuff to stop moving; they all went silent, the only sound that could be heard was the breath and occasional shifting of their mounts. Bog narrowed his eyes. The white was coming closer. Bog frowned as the sunlight shifting through the branches danced along the feathers of...a swan.

Bog looked confused. A swan? In the forest? The great animal? The wizard or whatever it was...could it be...? Bog slowly pulled his blade watching as the swan flew closer. Part of his mind told him something was different, strange about this. A swan in the forest with no lake or pond nearby...but why would a shape-shifting creature choose an animal that would stand out in the forest...something that couldn't do much damage. Why not a bear or a wolf? But on the other hand, a swan, alone out here was unusual enough that it had to be something....enchanted.

Bog slid off his horse taking a few steps past his steed, his blade ready.

Thang and Stuff both pulled their own weapons, dropping down from their saddles to back up their prince.

*

Marianne saw him...Bog...she couldn't believe her eyes. He stood there, sword drawn, dressed in his kilt and leather vest, his blue eyes seemed to stand out in startling contrast to the rest of him...she felt her throat tighten with tears...Bog...

She flew faster when Sunny ribbeted. “Why is his sword drawn?”

“What?” Marianne asked in confusion, at first not hearing her froggy companion. Sunny's eyes widened. “Why is his....LOOK OUT!”

Marianne only realized her mistake as the sunlight through the trees glinted off the sword, just as Bog swung.

Chapter Text

Bog narrowed his eyes, his left eye twitching as he watched the swan with an intensity that was frightening. His lip curled and his grip on his sword tightened; the leather wrapped around the hilt creaked under the strain.

Marianne, her heart hammering in her chest, flew with all her strength. She simply couldn't believe it was him! Bog was more handsome than she remembered. His blue eyes caught the light sprinkling down, making the blue glow brightly and she was certain that he was more muscular than the last time she saw him. She was drawn to him, pulled toward her love when at the last second Sunny yelled.

“TURN MARIANNE!! TURN!! HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!!”

Marianne didn't quite understand what Sunny was saying, her thoughts were so focused on Bog, on feeling his arms around her, on feeling his lips, on hearing his voice that she didn’t react until the moment the sunlight glinted off Bog's blade...only at that moment, when the light of the blade flashed back at her did she realize Bog was armed and she was his target.

Marianne let out a squawk, twisted in the air, her wings flapping wildly as she spun in the air. She nearly lost the distance she had gained with the turn, barely avoiding crashing into a tree; the tips of her wings brushed against the trunk, but she kept herself from crashing, barely.

Sunny was holding onto her tightly enough that Marianne could feel the pull of him against her feathers as Sunny yelled. “NO NO NO!!!!”

Marianne banked, her wing brushing against the trunk of another tree. She flinched, pulling her wing in away from the tree trunk and began to fall. She struggled, hissing to keep herself in the air, tilted wildly, almost slammed into another tree and dived down. Some of her breast feathers skimmed across the top of a thorn bush, but she flapped her wings down hard, putting all her strength into the effort and achieved some lift. Marianne nearly hooted with relief when she started to gain speed and distance.

Behind her she heard Bog call out. “DON'T LET IT GET AWAY!!”

Marianne flapped as hard as she could, steadily increasing her speed and gaining altitude. She was focused on ascending, finding space between the branches of the trees, looking for someplace she could break through to gain some clear sky and put on additional speed. She was struggling to resist the urge to look back at Bog.

Her voice shook as she yelled back at Sunny. “Just hold on!! HOLD ON!!”

Sunny was praying out loud. “I don't wanna die like this!! I don't wanna die like this!!”

She could hear Bog behind her, breaking loudly through the forest in pursuit. She chanced a look despite being scared. The urge to see him was a combination of fear and blind love, if she was going to die at his hand, she wanted to see him one last time.

Catching a glimpse of Bog rushing after her, his face set in a snarl of determination, she couldn't help but admire him. He was running for her, dashing with ease through the trees, his long muscular legs cutting through the space. He was much faster than she would have guessed otherwise and the look in his eyes was dangerous. And exciting, she admitted, as his blue eyes flashed with determination. Even though she was currently the focus of that determined bloodthirsty look in his eyes, Marianne felt a thrill run through her of pure want, mixed tightly with her love for him.

Sunny yelled. “Stop making eyes at him and looking like a love sick maiden and FLY!”

Marianne snarled back at Sunny the best she could with a beak. “I AM a love sick maiden you BLOODY FROG!”

Marianne broke through the trees, gaining the clear sky and flew for all she was worth back to the lake. The moon would be full tonight. If she could get him to the lake...get him there to see her transform...before he killed her that is...Marianne pressed her beak together and put on a burst of speed.

She flew faster, but Sunny was looking behind them and yelled. “Okay I hate to say this, but you need to slow down! He's fast, but you're gonna lose him!”

Marianne hissed to herself then dived down toward the trees again giving Bog a chance to catch up with them.

Sunny was yelling, “CAREFUL!!”

Marianne hissed back. “I’m trying!! I’m still new at this whole flying thing! You’ve had a year to be a bloody frog!”

Sunny chuckled despite everything. “You have a foul mouth for a princess.”

Marianne smiled--inwardly--just a little though she was doing her best to ignore Sunny and focus on her flying. It was taking a lot out of her to fly like this; she was swiftly wearing out, each stroke of her wings becoming a struggle. When she was sure that Bog had her in his sights again, she once more directed herself upward, though slower than before.

She kept a steady pace, dodging through the trees, keeping herself moving, but with less urgency, slowing her pace enough for Bog to follow, but not so slow that he could launch an attack. She was happy that Bog was not armed with a bow. Marianne thought, judging by how far back Bog had fallen, that she had enough of a head start that she could ease back a little. Her wings were aching and she was breathless. Her whole body hurt!

Marianne turned her head to see if Bog was still following when she let out a horrible sounding honk of fear when she realized that her husband-to-be was closer than she thought! Bog was right there, right behind her. He bared his teeth and slashed at her with his sword. His accent was thick with rage as he yelled. “Stop running!! Facke me great animal!”

Marianne honked again. Bog swung, the tip of his blade slashing through her tail feathers. Sunny let out a ribbit and Marianne squawked in fear. She lost control and fell, hitting the forest floor hard. Her beak drove into the ground, her long neck twisting just as she rolled in a somersault. She hit the ground on her back only to see Bog bearing down on her. Marianne squawked again, twisting her entire body as Bog brought his sword down, missing her by only inches though his blade yanked several of her feathers out from one of her wings. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but Marianne didn’t have time to cry. She flapped her wings struggling to put distance between her and Bog as he spun with his blade in hand. (She couldn't help but admire him. He was so handsome, his eyes flashing, teeth bared in his rage. He swung the sword with skill and elegance…) She let out a startled honk having twisted and rolled onto her back. Bog’s sword stabbed down once more, the point striking the dirt in front of her hard enough that the blade sank deep, dirt flying up to almost blind Marianne. She looked at him once before she was able to right herself, saw that his blade had caught in a tree root; he wrenched at the blade as she turned and flapped her wings with desperation, pushing herself swiftly into the air again.

*

Bog was stunned for a moment watching the swan take off again. For a moment there had been something so...familiar about the creature's eyes. He didn’t understand, but there was something about the way the swan had looked at him. Bog frowned and shook his head...it had to be magic, sorcery. That was the only explanation, trying to befuddle him. He wouldn’t fall for that! He was too determined; he would not be swayed from his mission.

*

“Sunny, you still there?!” she asked in a panic, her wings flapping as fast as she could make them while at the same time trying to twist her neck around to see him. She caught a glimpse of the little frog, holding on for dear life, his already large eyes were bulging with fear and excitement.

“Yes, yes I'm still here. OH MY GOD GO MARIANNE!” Sunny ribbeted.

Marianne turned and saw that Bog was right there again. How could he be so fast?! She couldn’t believe how quick he was. She was scared of what he might unwittingly do to her while at the same time she was so proud of him! But she didn’t have time for thinking about that! She had to fly!

She yelped and flapped her wings for all she was worth, trying to not focus on Bog and his sword. She lifted up much faster and easier this time, gaining more air just as Bog took another swing and yelled at them.

“I WON'T GIVE UP BEAST! I’LL MAKE YOU GIVE HER BACK TO ME!”

Marianne stayed among the trees this time, flying, twisting and dodging, alternating between flying high and low, trying to keep enough distance between her and Bog that he couldn’t catch her, but close enough that he wouldn’t lose sight of her.

She glanced up only once to see that the sun was starting to sink. Maybe--just maybe--she could get to the lake as the moon rose and Bog would see that it was her before something horrible happened! She fought back her tears of frustration and focused on flying and hope; those were the only two things she had right now, but she was going to hold on to them tightly. Sunny turned around on her back keeping Bog in his sights and yelling directions for Marianne to avoid the tip of her lover’s blade. She could hear Bog crashing through the forest behind her, his breath coming in hard pants as he rushed to keep up...she could hear the sounds of Stuff and Thang, yelling for their prince to stop or slow down until their voices dropped away and Marianne realized that they must have lost Bog in his wild pursuit of her. They were going to be very upset with themselves for losing their prince, she thought to herself with a small smile.

Just when Marianne was sure her wings were going to give out and she wasn't going to make it, after what felt like forever, she spotted the stone remains of the ruins that circled her lake just as the last beams of golden sunlight brushed across the ancient stone.

Marianne broke through the trees, heading for the water. She was going too fast and in too much of a panic to stop herself. She was coming in hard and she need to slow down, but it was too late. Marianne hit the water head first, then rolled across the surface in a ball of wings, long neck and webbed feet. She slowed down a little, but only because she went under for a moment and if she didn’t get herself under control she was going to drown. She sank hard, struggling to get back to the surface before she let her swan instincts and form take over; she cut through the water and up toward the surface. For a moment all she saw was the last rays of sunlight across the surface of the water before she burst through with a gasp of air.

Marianne immediately began twisting this way and that yelling. “Sunny? SUNNY?!”

She swam around in a circle diving down under the water, then came back up. “SUNNY!!”

“Here!! I'm over here! I jumped just before you hit the water,” Sunny yelled.

Marianne turned to see him, his small froggy form on one of the lake’s lilypads, waving a webbed foot, a large grin on his green face.

“Oh thank the stars!! I thought I had lost you.” Marianne sighed in relief swimming over to Sunny.

The little frog chuckled. “That was some amazing fl…”

He didn’t finish as the quiet of the lake was shattered just as Bog came crashing through the trees. He was running so quickly, his long legs cutting the distance that he was barely able to stop himself abruptly at the shore of the lake. The toes of his boots hit the water as Bog came up short, waving his arms to keep his balance.

Sunny motioned at Marianne to swim over to him. They could both see Bog searching the lake, his eyes narrowed. He hadn’t seen them yet in the long twilight shadows, but it was only a matter of time. Marianne didn’t think he would simply turn around and leave after that chase.

Sunny hissed. “Now's your chance! The moon is rising!”

Marianne turned her head toward the sky to see that Sunny was correct. Night had almost completely fallen during her frantic flight through the woods. Now the moon's light flowed down in the darkening sky and soon the silver light would caress the water. Marianne found that now that the time had come, she was nervous. What if his feelings toward her had changed? Yes, he was hunting for her, but...maybe...

Sunny motioned at her with his webbed feet. “Go on.” Marianne could see Bog, snarling and panting for breath at the edge of the lake glaring daggers at the water and the surrounding area. She glanced at Sunny who was motioning at her, giving her a reassuring smile. Slowly, she glided out to where Bog could see her. The moment she was within view, his blue eyes landed on her. His expression became murderous as he started to step into the water, his face set in a hard expression, his sword held above the water. She watched him for a few seconds in shock as he pushed deeper through the water.

Marianne turned to look up at the sky. The moon was just hitting the mark where the light would touch the lake; she had to hope it would happen before Bog swam out to her...

Sunny looked slightly scared, watching Bog cut through the water, but he turned back and gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. “Go.”

Marianne swam slowly toward the man she loved. Even as she was terrified that he might kill her before the moon's light hit the water, her heart thumped hard in her chest at the sight of him. He looked rougher than she remembered. There were lines around his eyes, shadows that haunted the summer blue. He looked harder, the soft youngfulness around his features had hardened into sharp corners, maturing his face. She could see he wasn't getting much sleep, but also there was a hardness to his eyes, as if the warmth had been sucked from them. He looked thinner too, leaner and dangerous, a deadly man bent on deadly purpose. He had changed much in a short time. But she could see the man that she loved with all her heart in his face. Her Bog was still there, she could see him. Marianne felt her heart swell with love for him. The feeling was almost painful in its intensity. She had dreamed about him, thought about him all these weeks and finally he was here...her Bog.

She swam closer, moved slowly and carefully hoping that if she didn't make any sudden moves that Bog would hold his sword back long enough for her to change. She moved steadily, trying to hold his gaze.

Bog snarled. He was waist deep in the water; his prey was so close!! He almost had the creature!! Maybe if he killed it, destroyed the monster, Marianne would be free to return to him...He knew that the smart thing would be to capture the beast, make it show him where it had taken her, but his aching heart wanted to destroy it as the monster had destroyed him. That thing had taken everything that was good in his life, everything he loved. There…it felt like there was nothing left for him without Marianne...no love...no future...nothing. Bog started to move further out into the lake, his eyes flinty, his sword gripped tightly in his hand, as he glared at the creature disguised as an elegant swan.

For a moment he wondered if the monster would let him drown...maybe he would let himself drown...Marianne’s disappearance...just the thought that maybe he was wrong, maybe she was dead…that finding the beast that had taken her from him would solve nothing...that Marianne would still be gone. A part of him just wanted to give up...to let the water take him, let the monster kill him. He couldn’t see his life without her in it. Part of him, the more rational part, knew he hadn’t let himself grieve and that he needed an end, a cathartic moment. There was a side of him that felt he couldn’t go on anymore...he was in so much pain. Bog didn’t know how he got up each morning and faced another day without Marianne...half of him wanted to die...wanted to let the monster take him too.

He adjusted his grip on his blade as his nostrils flared in anger. No! He would have it from the creature--either its cooperation or its death, he didn’t care which. He took a step closer to the beast.

But that was the moment the moon's light chose to brush across the water’s surface. Bog stopped moving, the water up to his waist...he could feel the magic dancing on the water around, light shining on the surface around him like tiny chips of moonlight glittering across the water.

The magic shimmered and danced toward swan until it brushed across her wings. Bog watched in shock. The glow that flowed over the swan looked like liquid gold, the shape of the creature lost as the magic enveloped it.

Bog couldn’t look away. He watched the magic guide the water and wrap itself around the swan. The water seemed to move and flow around the creature mixed with the magic rising up toward the moon like a tower, reaching toward the moonlight like seeking fingers, then just as swiftly the water spout came crashing back down, water and magic bursting back into the lake. Bog had to turn away for a moment or risk swallowing lake water, but when everything settled, Bog turned back...to see Marianne standing on the water's surface.

Bog simply stared, his mouth hanging open as he blinked.

She smiled softly, her long hair loose around her shoulders, her hands folded in front of her.

Marianne spoke gently. “Bog.”

Bog stood there unmoving, the water lapping around his waist, his eyes round with wonder, his mouth hanging open, his sword raised, ready to strike, but he didn't move. It was as if he couldn't move. He started to shake ever so slightly.

Bog whispered her name. “Marianne?”

Marianne continued to smile, took a hesitant step toward him, the water moving out in slow rings from where her bare foot delicately touched its surface. “It's me Bog. It's me, Marianne.”

Bog swallowed, his eyes started to burn, tears rolling down his cheeks as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Is it...is it really you?”

He swallowed, the shaking intensifying. “Are you dead? Am I dead?”

She could feel the pain in his voice, the same pain she shared. He was crying freely now, the tears would not stop as he slowly lowered his sword into the water. “Is...is it...is it really you? Or am I dreaming? I’m dead aren’t I?” Bog’s lip trembled. “I don’t care Marianne...I've been so lost without you.” Bog dropped his sword, the blade sinking to the bottom of the lake as he started to reached for her, but hesitated. Marianne could see his long graceful fingers, now calloused and rough, the moon’s light gleaming off the royal signet ring on his left little finger; his hands trembled as he held his arms out to her her.

“Please, please don't be a dream.” His voice broke, his face contorting in an agony that was as much physical as emotional. “Please Marianne.”

He still hadn't moved, his arms out, trembling. Marianne stepped closer still until she was in front of him. For some reason the magic allowed her to walk on the water; she stood above him looking down as Bog stood still, not moving, as if he were afraid that moving would break the spell. She crouched down, reached out to brush her fingertips along his sharp narrow face.

“Oh Bog,” she whispered.

He stared up at her, tears flowing freely. The whites of his eyes were red which made the blue glow in the moon’s light as he whispered. “Marianne…”

Marianne caressed his face, her fingers brushing tenderly along his lips. “I’m alive Bog. I promise you. I’m alive.”

Bog’s voice trembled. “No one...none of them believed me, but I knew...I knew you were still alive.”

Marianne smiled, her own tears starting to fall. “Oh Bog! I've missed you,” she said her voice soft and breaking.

Bog suddenly grabbed her, yanking her body against his, pulling her down into the water and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He held her so tightly that she couldn't breathe, but Marianne didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his neck holding on to Bog. He swung her around in the water, laughing softly though he was still crying.

Marianne laughed too, holding on tightly, afraid to let him go when Bog kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers, his lips tasting of sweetness and the salt of his tears. Bog stopped moving, holding her tightly, their kiss shifting from sweet to passionate. They held each other tightly, soaked to the skin, their mouths unwilling to break away, sharing each other's breath, their tongues slowly caressing each other. Bog moaned softly, a sound filled with all the pain of having lost her and now--he had found her again.

Marianne responded with a moan filled with longing, loneliness and happiness to have his arms around her once more.

Bog released her slowly, running his hand up her back to tenderly hold the back of her head, his fingers threaded through her long hair. He stared into her brown eyes, on the verge of saying something to her, but instead he kissed her once more.

Marianne laughed softly against his mouth, returning his kiss passionately until Bog finally pulled away from her mouth to speak.

“Marianne.” He said her name so tenderly that it broke her heart. “You are real, alive.”

Marianne closed her eyes, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “Yes. I’ve longed to see you Bog...I’ve wanted to find you…” She pressed her forehead to his. “I have so much to tell you Bog. But...You...you can't stay here Bog. You have to leave--and soon.”

“Come with me! I can bring you home!” Bog grabbed her hand and turned, pulling her through the water with him.

Marianne allowed him to pull her along until they came to the lake’s shore. Once they were on land she refused to let him drag her any further. Bog tugged, but stopped, when he realized she was struggling against him. He didn’t let go of her hand, but Bog stepped closer, reaching out to take her other hand and holding them both to his lips.

“Marianne?” His blue eyes were filled with confusion and hurt.

“Bog no! You can't stay and I can't go!” She pulled her hands away from him. She tried not to, but she started to cry again. She felt weak and silly for crying...but to have him so close to her, right here and not be able to leave with him hurt down to her very core.

Bog stopped, the hurt in his eyes broke her heart further. “But...Marianne...don't...don't you..? I love you. I thought you loved me.”

“No...I mean...Yes, I want to go Bog. Oh Bog I do love you! More than I can ever express and I want to be with you, but I can't...I'm...I'm cursed,” Marianne said softly hanging her head. Her long brown hair fell forward to cover her face but the moon's light caught her tears as they fell.

Bog stepped closer and wrapped her in his arms pulling her against his chest. He stroked her hair tenderly, kissing the side of her head and whispered. “Tell me how to break this curse Marianne, tell me how to free you.”

Marianne choked on a sob, wrapping her arms around his waist, her face buried against his chest. She took in his scent, his warmth, his love and wrapped them around her. She hadn't realized just how scared she was until this moment when she suddenly felt safe, safely wrapped in the warmth of Bog's arms.

Bog continued to stroke her hair with his fingers, his touch soft, gentle and whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Tell me everything.”

Her voice was slightly muffled as she spoke, her cheek on his chest. “It's this evil man...this wizard named Rothbart. I...I remember the name from when I was a child...whispered about by the servants, the guards. They said his name like he was some sort of evil spirit, a ghost. I thought he was a story mostly, told to scare the new servants or to discipline children. He used to be part of my father's court. He...tried to hurt my family, but was banished by my father. He wanted my father's kingdom. That is what all this is about--he is trying to force me to marry his son Roland, so that he can have the kingdom. He did this to me...turned me into a swan. The swan you chased here.”

Marianne stopped. “Bog...my mother...my sister...He...he killed them.”

Marianne burst into tears, hot and stinging. She had been holding her sorrow in check, staving off thoughts of her mother and sister, not allowing herself to grieve until this moment. Just mentioning them...and seeing Bog...she let her fear and pain go. Bog pulled her into his embrace even tighter, holding on to her while she cried. He stroked her hair and pressed tender, loving kisses to her head until he picked her up into his arms and carried her to one of the trees where he sank down against the bark. Bog gathered her close onto his lap, his arms secure around her and held her, rocking her gently.

“I'm so sorry Marianne. I'm so sorry about your mother. But Dawn is alive. She is safe at the castle with my mother. Marianne...your sister is alive.”

Marianne looked up at Bog, her eyes bloodshot with tears.

She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Dawn...Dawn is alive?”

Bog nodded, he smiled softly. “Yes. She was hurt badly, but she is recovering.” He chuckled. “She is even trying to play matchmaker between my bodyguards.”

Marianne laughed as a fresh bout of tears overcame her, but she was smiling. Dawn...her baby sister was alive!

Bog gently pulled her head back to his shoulder, stroking his fingers through her hair once more. Marianne held on snuggling against Bog and closing her eyes to listen to the rumble of Bog’s voice as he spoke. “She suffered some broke bones and a head injury, but she is recovering swiftly. If not for her I think I would have fallen into complete despair. Dawn has kept me going, making me laugh...smile. She is my little ray of sunshine. The baby sister I always wanted.” He kissed the top of Marianne’s head as he spoke.

Marianne laughed softly through her tears. “You always did call her your sunshine.”

Bog smiled down at Marianne brushing his nose against hers. “Wait until she hears you’re alive.”

They kissed again, this time completely losing themselves in the moment. Bog held the back of her head gently, his other arm tight around her waist. Marianne reached up to caress his face, returning his kiss with deep passion when someone cleared their throat.

They both turned to see a frog gesturing at them.

“Marianne, he’s coming!!! It’s Rothbart and Roland!”

Bog blinked, stunned. “Did that frog just talk?”

Marianne leapt to her feet. “Quick! Bog, you’ve got to hide!”

Bog shook his head and dismissed the frog. “No! I’m not leaving you Marianne! I’ll kill them both!! I won’t leave you…come back with me!” Bog started, but Marianne pulled him to her and kissed him. Marianne went weak with Bog’s kiss, but she had to clear her head. “Bog, please, hide...you can’t break the spell like that...when the moon sets I’ll be a swan again! I don’t have time to explain! Please!” Marianne grabbed his hands, squeezing tightly. “Please Bog.”

“There must be a way to break the spell!” Bog brought her hands up to kiss them.

Marianne nodded. “A declaration of everlasting love, made in front of the world.”

Bog looked confused. “The world?”

Marianne was shoving him toward Sunny. “Yes the world!”

Bog let Marianne shove him, but after a step he stopped and turned. “I know!! My mother is throwing a ball! Everyone will be there from far and wide. I’ll make the declaration there! In front of everyone! It’s in two weeks, but I know I can convince her to hold it sooner. It wouldn’t take much...everyone will show, even on short notice...”

That was when they both heard Roland’s voice. “Buttercup!! Where are you??”

Bog was grinning like a fool. “In two days Marianne...I’m going to do it in two days.”

Marianne stared at him and she couldn’t help the smile on her lips. “Oh Bog.”

He grinned. “Two days Marianne. I will declare my love in front of the world.”

She giggled and motioned at him. “Go!”

Bog grinned. “All right. I’m going! I love you.”

Marianne blushed. “I love you.”

Bog started to move then stopped again. Marianne groaned. “Bog!”

He hurried back over to her and pulled a ring from his pinky, grabbing her hand and laid the ring on her palm. “I love you Marianne.”

She stared at him, but the moment was once again broken by Roland yelling. “BUTTERCUP!”

“Go Bog! Please,” Marianne urged.

Sunny motioned at Bog. “Follow me!”

The frog took off, leaping and hopping quickly.

Bog kissed his love’s hand before he hurried after the frog and muttered. “I can’t believe I’m following a frog.”

Just as Bog and Sunny had moved out of sight, they heard the sound of someone moving through the forest and the muffled sound of voices.

Roland and his father Rothbart broke through the trees. Tonight Roland was dressed in white and silver, his hair combed just so. The leather of his brown boots shone with the moon’s light as well as the white glow from the sphere of light that hovered near his father’s head.

While Roland was smiling and winking at Marianne, Rothbart looked angry.

He snarled when he saw her. “My son tells me you broke into my tower Princess. What were you there for?”

He advanced on her, but Roland grabbed his father by the arm. “Father, please. She didn’t get into anything. She was just there to see me, weren’t you buttercup?”

Marianne looked confused. She couldn't decide if Roland was covering for her, or if he really believed that, but she decided to take advantage of Roland’s excuse.

“Yes...I was...rethinking my situation,” Marianne said softly.

Rothbart narrowed his eyes. “Then why peck my son?”

Marianne blushed and frowned. “The instincts of a swan are...strong.”

Roland walked closer and pulled Marianne into his embrace. She stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Ah Buttercup.”

Rothbart didn’t look convinced and then he hissed. “I thought I heard voices.”

Marianne pushed herself out of Roland’s arms. “Voices? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Rothbart tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

Marianne panicked. She didn’t know if Bog was still close or if he had left so she did the only thing she thought might distract the evil wizard. “I’ve...I’ve decided to marry your son.”

Roland blinked. “Really?”

Marianne swallowed. “Really.”

Roland leapt into the air. “Yipee!”

Rothbart smiled. “That’s wonderful my dear. But, you wouldn’t happen to know who this belongs to, would you?”

Rothbart rolled his fingers. Marianne could see the spark of magic, then suddenly, Bog’s sword, the one he had dropped in the lake, was in Rothbart’s hand.

Marianne gasped. “NO!”

Roland looked confused. “What?”

Rothbart stomped toward Marianne his eyes narrowed. He walked right up to her, close enough she could smell his foul breath.

Rothbart spat at her. “Stupid princess. This is my lake, my realm...do you really think I didn’t know the moment that “prince” stepped foot here?”

Marianne didn’t move. She balled her hands into fists at her sides, refusing to let him intimidate her. She didn’t move, didn’t take a step back in retreat, didn’t let him see that she was scared. Instead, she hissed right back at him.

“Bog loves me. He is going to declare his love to the world and I am going to marry him. You can’t stop me,” Marianne hissed. “You’ll have to kill me.” She dropped her voice to a deadly whisper.

Rothbart laughed. “Oh my dear. You forget…” He grabbed her hand where she held Bog’s signet ring, concealed in the palm of her hand. He painfully pulled her fingers back and ripped the ring from her grasp, tossing it to Roland who barely caught it.

Rothbart laughed. “I don’t have to kill you...just him. You just sealed your prince Bog’s fate. I will make sure you have a front seat to his bloody and painful death. And my dear...two days? This silly ball that Bog spoke about? Really? Did you forget...there will be no moon in two days.”

Marianne’s eyes widened in horror.

Chapter Text

Griselda paced the halls in worry. The skirt of her long dark blue dress made a soft sound against the stone floor along with the gentle tap of her shoes. It was late, very late, and on top of that it had started to rain as night had progressed. Bog’s bodyguards had returned without him, both of them panting, drenched and exhausted saying he had found the great animal and was giving chase when they lost sight of him…

She chewed on one of her nails, her finger bleeding slightly, but she hadn’t noticed. The fear of thinking she might lose her son...after her husband, Bog was all she had. She stopped for a moment, placed her hand against the wall as the pain rushed over her. She would never forget losing her husband, holding her small son in her arms as he cried the tears she had not been able to show...Bog had become her world after that, her precious son. She swallowed heavily as tears sprang to her eyes. She had been so happy when she had learned that her son and Marianne were in love. She had so much wanted that for him, true love, happiness, a family. She had feared he might end up alone, but Marianne...she pushed herself upright and turned, holding her folded hands against her stomach.

Griselda stepped back into the family room where Dawn was waiting by the fire. She was in the wheeled chair, her leg stretched out before her covered in a thick blanket. She was wearing a white nightgown, embroidered with pink roses along the hem, her long blonde hair braided in a thick, loose braid down one shoulder. She looked so young, so frightened; her already pale skin looked almost translucent, all color gone as she stared into the fire with her hands folded together in her lap. Griselda felt a rush of shame and selfishness for focusing on her own loss...Poor Dawn. She had lost her sister and her mother, and now Bog. Griselda was old; she was...no...they were in this together. No one's loss outweighed the others. The older woman had just walked over to the princess, thinking to offer comfort to Dawn when they heard a loud crash, the sound of one of the doors leading outside (which were heavier than the doors within) banged loudly as it was thrown open, followed by the sounds of the wind whipping through the halls, followed by the sound of boots racing up the stairs.

Both Dawn and Griselda turned toward the doorway just as Bog, soaked to the bone, his boots and clothing muddy came bursting into the room. His dark hair was plastered to his head, long locks in his eyes dripping water everywhere as he stopped in the middle of the room, staring at his mother and Dawn.

“SHE’S ALIVE!” he burst out, his eyes wild, but he was smiling.

Griselda glared at her son. “Where have you BEEN??!! I thought...Bog...Oh…” His mother began to cry.

Bog stood there confused for a moment as his mother barreled into him to wrap her arms around him and nearly knocking the air from his lungs as she cried against his chest.

Dawn wheeled herself around fully to glare at him. “You had us worried!! Stuff and Thang came back without you and then it got dark and you still didn’t come back!”

The young maiden burst into tears.

For a moment he looked utterly confused by their reaction. It slowly sunk in. Bog frowned only now seeming to realize he had frightened them. “I’m sorry Mam...Dawn...I...Marianne...I found her! She’s alive!”

Both women looked up at Bog with confused expressions.

“What?” they both said in unison.

“I found her!!! She’s alive!! She’s under a curse, but alive!” Bog grinned from ear to ear.

Griselda looked shocked, grabbed her son’s face and stared into his eyes. Had he gone mad she wondered? She swiftly checked his forehead to see if he was feverish.

Bog grabbed her hand. “No, no--it’s true mother, I’m not crazed or feverish! I found her. She is coming, two days. We have to have the ball in two days!” Bog stepped out of his mother’s grasp, his eyes dancing and his smile contagious. Dawn wheeled closer, her voice low as if she were afraid to speak too loudly and have everything Bog told her be a lie.

“She really is alive?”

Bog nodded vigorously. “She is under a curse. She’s been turned into a swan…”

Dawn and Griselda both gasped in shock. “A swan.”

“Yes and I can break the spell!! I just have to declare my love for her in front of the world! You said everyone was coming to the ball correct?” Bog looked at his mother, his eyes a little wild.

“Well yes Bog, but not for another few weeks! Two days...I just…” Griselda muttered, but Bog grabbed her shoulders. “Mother...you must...please...I’m begging you.”

Bog looked at his mother with desperation.

Griselda stared back at her son. She smiled softly. “I’ll...I'll make it a royal command…”

“Thank you mother!!” Bog yanked his mother into his arms and kissed both her cheeks as he lifted her off the floor. Griselda laughed, but she was crying at the same time.

Marianne was alive.

*

The sky had opened up and rain was falling thickly, making it hard to see in the darkness. Only a sliver of moonlight still danced across the lake, and she knew it would be gone soon. Marianne struggled yanking and dragging her feet as Rothbart yanked her away from the lake, away from his tower and deeper into the woods.

“Let me GO, you monster!!” Marianne struggled, but the aging man was surprisingly strong. His grasp on her wrist was like a vice, so tight that she could feel her fingers going numb. She yanked back with all her strength, but he simply ignored her, dragging her behind as if she were no more than a child having a tantrum. Further hampering Marianne’s movements, the rain was turning the ground into mud, causing her to slip and slide as she was dragged.

Roland tagged along behind jogging to keep up with the two of them and called out.

“Father? What are you doing? You’re not going to hurt her are you?” Roland frowned in confusion. He knew his father was ruthless, but...even he had never seen his father quite this angry.

Rothbart ignored them both for a few more minutes as he dragged the young woman along. He yanked Marianne into the middle of the forest, stopping only when he arrived in front of a large leafless oak tree deep in the forest. The tree’s trunk, looking as if four younger trees had at one point grown together to create a monster of a tree big enough that it would take at least twenty men to circle the trunk of the tree completely. Three large branches, as thick as four men twisted and clawed into the night sky. The trunk of the tree of was dark, almost black with age and there was something unworldly about the tree that brought Roland up short; something about the tree made him take several steps back from his father and Marianne.

“Father?” Roland asked staring at his father who stood in front of the tree, staring at it as if he were evaluating the tree, but Rothbart ignored his son.

Marianne snarled, pulling with all her strength against the sorcerer’s grip. “What are you doing?? Let me go!!!”

Rothbart ignored her, his grip maintained painfully, and closed his eyes, took a breath. He thrust his right hand out while tightening his grip on Marianne’s wrist with his left.

She gasped in pain, dropping her to knees as Rothbart began to speak.

“I bind you on this night. I bind you. I bind you from above, I bind you from below. I bind you so that you may not know love or life.”

Marianne clawed at his hand, but Rothbart swung her toward the tree to slam her back up against the bark of the tree. Marianne screamed as the tree seemed to open up around her; she could feel the cold chill from the trunk as she was sucked backwards followed by the bark of the tree growing around her. She screamed until she was hoarse as she was held in place, the trunk of the tree growing around her torso, holding her arms, the bark wrapping around her wrists until only Marianne's head, hands, part of her chest and feet were visible.

She struggled, fighting back her panic, but she tears started to roll down her cheeks as she tried to move, to pull free, but the tree held her fast.

Rothbart grinned. “There, now. One more...well, actually, three more things I need from you my dear. Just hold still.” The older man laughed at his little joke. “Well, it's not as if you can do anything else now, is there?”

Rothbart pulled out a dagger. Roland’s eyes widened in shock and worry, but he didn’t move as his father stepped close to Marianne. She struggled, but her body barely moved--the magic had bound her tight within the tree, making her struggles futile. Besides moving her head sideways or flapping her hands--the extent of her movements--showed that Marianne could do nothing to stop Rothbart.

Rothbart took the blade and grabbed a lock of her hair, yanking her head up until she cried out. He pulled the long brown hair out straight and cut several strands from her, thick enough that he could tie the hair into a knot before he shoved the locks into his pouch. From the same pouch, he pulled out a small crystal vial with a gold clasp lid. He held the vial under her palm. Marianne looked confused, but before she could close her hand into a fist, Rothbart sliced the same blade he had used on her hair across her palm.

Marianne let out a cry more from being startled than pain as her blood started to flow, bright red, from the wound. Rothbart smiled, filling the crystal vial with her blood.

Once filled, he deposited the vial in his pouch where he had put her hair.

Marianne glared up at him. “You’re a monster.”

Rothbart laughed and met her gaze with a sneer. “Oh, you have no idea my dear.”

He grabbed her hand, the one he had just sliced open. Marianne stared at him, struggling to no effect, but he pressed his thumb into the cut in her palm causing Marianne to cry out in pain. Just as he pressed his thumbnail into the wound, he brought the dagger up and sliced off her little finger at the first joint.

Marianne screamed as Rothbart released her hand, catching the fingertip before it hit the ground. He held it up in front of her eyes. Marianne was gasping for breath, her face stained with her tears. “Thank you for your contributions tonight toward your own death and the death of that idiotic prince of yours.”

He pocketed her finger into the pouch along with her hair and blood.

Rothbart grinned. “All done. Now, this will hold you even when you…”

The rain lashed down as Rothbart spoke, the sky now fully covered in clouds. The moon’s light was cut off from the lake somewhere behind them, and Marianne shifted her form despite the tree holding her.

Rothbart laughed. “As I was saying. This spell will hold you even when you transform. Now…” He smiled, stepped closer, but Marianne snapped her beak at him. Her wing, trapped where her hand had been, was bleeding, the white feathers stained a deep crimson. Rothbart, who had been reaching out for her face, yanked his hand back with a laugh.

“Still feisty I see. Well...your little plot with the prince has thrown my simple plan into chaos...so now...I shall simply have to take both kingdoms. Really, I was content with just yours...revenge and all--but now…” The sorcerer shook his head with a deep chuckle. “I shall have your prince declare his love to another...which...Oh I guess I didn’t tell you this part of the spell, did I?” Rothbart frowned. “You know dear I simply don’t remember.” He chuckled. “Once he declares his love to another...you die...but don’t be sad my dear, so will he because my son will kill him. You can be happy in knowing that you both shall be together in death. Now...enjoy your stay...you have two days.” He smiled and turned away from the trapped princess, but Roland spoke up.

“But...father...I thought I was going to marry the princess and…” Roland stuttered, but Rothbart shocked Roland as he backhanded his son. “That’s enough Roland. Plans change. This little trollop has put a bend in the original plan...I wanted the throne legitimately, but she had made that impossible. So now I shall just kill them all...much bloodier, true, but I suppose a lot simpler in the long run. The peasants maybe not like it...and neither will the nobles...but if I have to kill a few more to keep them in line...who cares?” Rothbart chuckled.

Roland watched his father walk away in stunned silence. He turned to look at Marianne. Her dark swan eyes stared back at him, but he quickly turned and ran after his father through the downpour.

*

Roland said nothing to his father as they made their way through the forest and back to his father’s tower, but Roland felt cold. A deep cold that settled in his chest. He hadn’t really been upset by the accident and the death of the soldiers when they had taken Marianne. Those men were...well soldiers, guards--they knew that death was part of their job. And he didn’t really care about killing Bog. He hated him. He hadn’t really felt anything about her mother or sister. But Marianne? He didn’t feel right about that…and he felt like he was losing something that was by rights his...Marianne was supposed to be his...his own princess.

Roland did his best to put the thought from his mind as his father shoved open the door and stomped into the tower.

“Father, how are we going to get a fake Marianne? I mean...I don’t know anyone who could…”

“Shut up boy,” Rothbart snarled. “Be quiet and watch--perhaps you’ll learn something.”

Roland followed his father as he moved through the main room into what Roland always considered his father’s private study. It was a room filled with old books and things…lots of things that Roland had no idea what they were for. On shelves were skulls and animal bones, jars and vials of strange liquids. All of it filled him with foreboding. His father made his way across the room to the wooden door in the floor. Roland knew all about that room, or at least as much as he ever wanted to know. He had only been down there once, as a child, sneaking down there when his father was away one evening…

He had lifted the latch and sneaked into the darkness with only a torch, his childish curiosity driving him forward. He had often seen his father disappear down the trap door which would be followed hours later by strange smells, lights and sometimes voices. He had seen shadows moving in the room when he had gone down there and something had whispered his name. He had come rushing back out of the room just as his father had returned.

Roland had never been beaten as badly by his father as he had that night…

But now, his father was willingly leading him down into the room and Roland wasn’t sure he wanted to go…

Rothbart snapped his fingers as soon as he started down the stairs into the darkness before creating several glowing and bobbing balls of light. The room, Roland noticed, looked almost exactly as he remembered it from the night when he was small. There were odors--the smell of rot, decay, death...sweetness, coppery. And the shadows seemed to be alive. As the balls of light danced further into the room and his father started to bustle about lighting candles around the room, the light revealed the room in more detail. There was a worn, red rug that had once been trimmed in gold and decorated with black embroidery, but whatever the image had been in the rug, it was long faded. There were shelves, with jars of things on them, things that moved and glowed. There were more bones, pieces of animals, a leg here, a wing there, a skull here...and books. There were so many books. Roland thought of the room as controlled chaos, alive and waiting to unleash its menace.

His father had a desk and several tables down here as well as tall metal candle holders. The surface of anything flat, when not occupied by some strange dead thing, was occupied by a book.

Roland held back near the stairs, ready to make a hasty retreat as his father hurried about the room. The sorcerer yanked up the rug revealing the naked stone floor beneath.

His father hurried over to the desk, knocking books and other miscellaneous things about until he found was he was looking for, a stick of charcoal. He hurried back over to the middle of the room and began to draw a circle, muttering to himself as he did so. After he drew the circle, his father hurried over to a dark corner of the room, followed by the sound of his father dragging something heavy, metal scraping along the stone.

“ROLAND! Get over here and help me!” Rothbart snapped.

Roland yelped and hurried over to his father. His father was trying to haul a large, black metal cauldron out of the dark corner.

“Pull it to the center of the room,” Rothbart snarled.

The two men yanked and pulled until they had dragged the cauldron, big enough to hold a man, into the middle of the circle. Rothbart grinned. “Good, good...now…”

His father rushed about yanking down jars filled with some sort of viscous fluid, the colors melding from a sort of rotten vegetation green to a thick, tar like black. Rothbart dumped whatever “thing” was in the liquid. Roland heard the wet, meaty sounds of “things” he couldn’t quite see or name, hitting the floor. Sometimes these “things” were accompanied by squeaks or hisses only to be squashed by the wet sound of his father’s booted foot putting whatever “it” was out of the its misery. Rothbart, who had gone back to muttering, filled the metal tub until he had emptied a number of vessels that had held many sorts of liquid.

His father held his hands out over the liquid in the cauldron. He closed his eyes and muttered. Roland couldn’t understand anything that his father was saying, the magical speech of sorcerers. The only thing he understood was that the liquid--the thick, foul smelling liquid--had started to boil, even though there was no fire around it. His father continued to mutter and slowly dropped the parts he had taken from Marianne into the foul liquid.

First he pulled out her lock of hair. His father held the hair up, uttered a few words and the strands of hair began to glow. He dropped the lock of hair into the liquid where it sank slowly causing the roiling fluid to sputter. Next his father pulled out the vial of her blood, speaking more words as he sprinkled the blood over the surface of the water. The liquid inside boiled with greater intensity in response.

Lastly his father pulled out the tip of Marianne’s finger. Roland felt his stomach rebel when he saw the digit in his father's hand. Rothbart held it over the cauldron, his eyes closed and he whispered something in that strange, torturous tongue that made Roland’s skin crawl. The liquid changed colors again, turned a reddish pink that bubbled and roiled, moving with purpose as it began to roll in on itself. His father held the finger up and smiled.

“To me my puppet,” he hissed and dropped the finger into the liquid.

That was when there was an explosion.

Roland let out a yelp, almost a scream as something rose up out of the liquid. He hurriedly backed himself up against the wall, his green eyes bulging as something rose out of the gunk. At first all he saw was a skeleton, its skeletal fingers reaching, pleading into the ether. Just as suddenly, the thing plunged back into the constantly swirling mixture. His father started to sway and the smile on his face drained all the blood from Roland’s face. He started to back toward the stairs when something bursts once more from the liquid. This time the figure inside was covered in muscles, bits of flesh, half a face, one brown eye rolled wildly in its socket turning until the eye’s gaze landed on him. Roland screamed as lips formed across the face and the half thing smiled. Her--Roland realized in revulsion that it was female--body was forming as he stared, the naked flesh covering the exposed muscle slowly as she...the other Marianne reached for him. Roland screamed again, high and loud until his voice gave out completely. Just as the thing that looked like Marianne finished completing itself, she crawled out of the cauldron, one slime covered foot touching the floor. She stared right at him, her long brown hair sticking to her slim, goo-covered body. She was at least now covered in flesh, albeit naked, and her brown eyes looked empty, but she was focused on him and only him.

Roland started to hyperventilate as the creature brought her other leg out, stepping toward him. Roland was still screaming, but nothing was coming from his throat except strange dry whistles. She walked closer, her slimy fingers reaching for Roland. When she was right in front of him, she reached out and touched his face, the cold slime stuck to and rolled down Roland’s cheek...and he passed out, crumpling to the floor.

*

Marianne hung her head. She was sure she had passed out, her blood dripping down the bark of the tree being washed away with the rain water. She felt light headed, nauseous, and terrified. Bog...she needed to warn Bog. She squeezed her eyes shut, the pain of her missing finger was inconsequential when she thought of the possibility of Bog dying...because of her.

She couldn’t cry probably as a swan, which hurt even more. Tears wouldn’t fall from the eyes of a swan.

“Marianne?”

She lifted her head to see Sunny, just barely visible in the darkness, his large eyes catching what little ambient light there was, which wasn’t much in the rain. He was hiding in some undergrowth across from her. He looked both ways before he slipped out from the green and hopped over to her.

He frowned looking up at her. “Oh Marianne.”

Marianne’s beak trembled. “Sunny, they are planning on killing Bog. What am I going to do? I’m trapped here...I...I don’t know what to do.”

That was when a soft voice spoke.

“You poor child.”

Sunny let out a startled ribbet, but Marianne was too weak and distressed to do more than look up as best she could into the branches of the oak tree where she was imprisoned.

Sitting among the large branches was a woman. She was shorter than Marianne when Marianne was in her human form. She had long dark hair that seemed to be streaked with blue, twisted within the brown, her hair twisting and rolling over her shoulder like a waterfall. In the darkness, her skin looked pale but with a shimmer of blue under it like moonlight when it was on the lake. She had pointed ears, and a brilliant smile.

“Who...who are you?” Marianne asked softly her voice filled with wonder.

The woman smiled and hopped down from her branch, a set of wings opened behind her as she did so, landing silently in front of the Marianne. Marianne gasped, her swan eyes widening in shock. A fairy.

She knew the stories like everyone did. Fairies, dryads, all sort of magical folk lived in the forests. That was why you never went out after midnight, never ate strange fruit from strange men, and you never stepped into the middle of a ring of mushrooms. You never fell asleep under a fairy tree and you never danced with the fairies or you would never come back.

“Me...Oh I’m nobody important…” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You can call me Aura or Duir or….oh well I have a LOT of names.” She giggled and tilted her head sideways. “That nasty wizard did mess with my tree.” The fey stuck her bottom lip out. “And you...you bled on me.” She grinned and said wistfully, “The blood calls to me. You need help, don’t you little bird? Under a magic spell? A prince who needs your help? Well lucky for you...I’m the fairy of this oak and your blood was taken as a gift...so here I am!” She twirled into the air stopping just above Marianne with a wide smile. “I can help you.”

Marianne raised her long neck looking at the fairy. “You can?”

The fairy smiled. “I can, but...your blood was a gift to awaken me, BUT I’ll need something else, another gift...for a favor...to help you.” The fairy smiled. “You know, tit for tat...that sort of thing.”

“Anything!” Marianne honked in her swan voice.

Sunny ribbeted. “Marianne no!! No! You can’t trust fey! Don’t you know the old stories?”

Aura frowned at Sunny. “Hey Frog, mind your beeswax.”

Marianne looked from Sunny to the strange fairy.

“I don’t care what it is, I’ll give it willingly.”

Aura grinned, her smile turning from what Marianne thought was cute, to slightly frightening. “Anything?”

Chapter Text

Marianne stared at the fairy, her tone frantic. “I agree. Anything you want, you can have.”

Sunny let out a groan, smacking himself in the face with one webbed foot. “Oh Marianne.”

The fairy ignored the frog and grinned wide, only then did Marianne notice that her mouth was filled with fanged teeth.

“Oh goodie,” the fairy cooed with delight.

The fairy dropped down in front of Marianne, her feet making no sound as she touched the ground. She reached out to caress Marianne’s feathered head and spoke in a gentle tone.

“Now, this is what you must do. On the night of the ball, you will change briefly into a human as the moon’s light dances along the water before the clouds once more cover the moon’s face. The transformation will be swift and it will be brief...what I want at that moment is your vanity little princess. Give me that and I will free you from my tree at that moment.”

“My vanity?” Marianne looked confused. “I don’t understand?”

Aura frowned staring at her then turned to Sunny. “You know what I mean?”

The frog shrugged and Aura groaned loudly. “What is wrong with you people nowadays??? You just don’t deal with us like you used to...sad really. Fine, I’ll spell it out. For the brief moment, when you are human, I want your hair.”

“My hair?” Marianne tilted her head to look at the fairy in confusion.

The fairy rolled her eyes and flopped backwards onto...nothing and floated there, her forearm draped over her eyes in dramatic fashion. “Oh spirits of the forest save me from humans!” She sat up then. “Yes your hair. I want all your hair. Give me that and I’ll free you from the tree.”

Marianne looked shocked and pleased. “Just my hair? But why?”

“Yes.” The fairy smiled and blinked slowly. “And that’s for me to know.”

“Will I stay human?” Marianne asked.

“No, sorry little princess, can’t help you there. I can’t break the spell the sorcerer has you under. Not only is it one damn fine curse, I can’t really tamper with human magic. The only reason I can free you is one…” Here she started to count on her fingers. “Is that he used my tree. Now if he had used any of the hundreds of dead trees around here, I couldn’t have helped free you, BUT like the fool human sorcerer that he is, he used my living tree, AND two, you bled on me, which awakened me from my slumber...and...Well...there you go. I can break his binding spell...but this…” She pointed at Marianne’s swan form. “Sorry, nothing I can do. That’s for you to do. Oh wait! I can do this...”

Aura reached out and laid her hand over the bloody wing. Marianne gasped in relief as the throbbing pain of her missing finger eased.

Aura grinned. “There. I can’t give you your finger back...well I could, but I don’t think you want to pay that price…” Aura giggled. “It’s very, very steep. Anyway, there you go, I healed it and eased your pain at least.”

Marianne sighed. “Thank you.” She tilted her head at Aura. “So I will turn human, you’ll take my hair and free me, but I’ll return to being a swan?”

Aura nodded. “That’s it. For your hair I can give you freedom, but from there princess, breaking this curse is up to you and your prince.” She shrugged. “I would help if I could.”

Marianne smiled. “Then you can have my hair.”

Sunny made a sound of protest.

Aura smiled brightly twirling in place for a moment. “Good...now...until then sweet princess...good night.”

With that the fairy faded away; the air where she had stood shimmered until that was gone as well…

Sunny whispered. “Marianne...I don’t know if that was a good idea...dealing with fey creatures...it’s always bad. ”

Marianne looked mournfully at Sunny. “But what choice do I have?”

Sunny nodded with a small croak and a sigh… “Not a lot.”

*

Roland was in his room, lying on his bed wrapped tightly in the blankets. Sitting on a chair straight across from him was that...thing--the duplicate of Marianne. What he had seen his father do had chilled him to the bone. He had created a duplicate of Marianne, a hollow creature with no heart or soul, yet it was alive!! He shuddered again. The other Marianne sat in the chair in his room, her hands crossed on her lap. At least now she was wearing a soft, light blue dress. Her long hair was braided over one shoulder, and her feet were bare. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing...he didn’t think she was, yet she was alive, crafted from magic Roland didn’t think ought to exist. He shuddered. She was wearing the signet ring that Bog had given Marianne on her finger. The dying light in the fireplace caught the ring, and somehow the light reflected in her weird brown eyes. The false Marianne couldn’t speak either, it seemed, but she would occasionally make horrid mumbling moans...Roland squeezed his eyes shut. She looked just like Marianne…and she kept staring at him. It was all rather disturbing.

Roland had tried all day to think of her as “it” or “thing,” but most of the time he found himself thinking of her as...her. Try as he might he simply couldn’t stop himself from thinking of her as her. Not Marianne, certainly, but her--the thing--he needed to figure out what to call her because he couldn’t call her Marianne! It was too strange! His father had bound the creature to his son so that she would follow Roland everywhere, follow his every command...except that also meant he couldn’t get away from her either. EVERYWHERE Roland went...she followed! Even to the water closet!

On top of the monstrosity, his father now wanted him to kill Bog. Roland sighed. That was going to be difficult. Roland was beginning to wonder if his father cared one way or another if Roland survived or not. His father had told him not to worry, he was going to put a masking spell on Roland...once he had stabbed Bog, all he had to do was mix into the crowd, say the word that triggered the spell and he would have a new--if temporary--face. Maybe it would work, he decided.

Roland opened his eyes. She was still watching him with an eerie quiet.

This was not what Roland had been hoping for when his father first revealed his plan...

*

The next two days passed slowly. Time seemed to crawl by, making each hour seem like days, each minute like weeks.

Sunny brought Marianne food, berries, insects and water.

Roland focused on teaching the strange homunculus how to move, to dance to flirt and smile...everything she would need to fool Bog, everything except speaking.

Bog spent his time readying the castle for the moment he could declare his love for Marianne.

Finally, the day of the ball arrived.

*

Rothbart sighed in annoyance at his son. “Roland. Just listen; it is not that hard to say.”

Rothbart said the word for the fifth time. “Mutatio.”

Roland watched with morbid fascination as his father’s face seemed to turn to putty, morphing and changing so quickly that Roland wasn’t sure what he had seen before the man standing before him was no longer his father.

“Now you try,” the stranger that looked like his father hissed.

Roland glanced at Mari. He had named the homunculus Mari instead of Marianne. In the two days since her creation, she still hadn’t learned to speak. He didn’t know if she just wasn’t capable or if it was part of the magic, or if she was refusing to speak, but regardless of the reason for her silence, Roland found he didn’t like it. She still followed him around like a lost puppy, but he had managed to teach her to dance, to curtsy, to give lovelorn looks (which had been difficult and annoying) and he had taught her how to eat and drink (though she didn’t seem to need either).

Mari simply watched him, giving him an encouraging smile. She had become more animated in the last couple of days, smiling, grinning, frowning, looking sad…she made him uncomfortable because while she looked like Marianne, she didn’t act like the real Marianne. She did little things for him too, like bringing him glasses of wine, or she brought him his boots...it was strange and uncomfortable. When Roland had asked his father what would happen to her after, well, everything, his father had been vague at first, then Rothbart had made an off-handed remark about “it” would die just like everyone else. Roland sighed and decided it was best to focus on his father’s plan and not on her.

Roland took a breath. “Muto.”

Nothing happened.

Rothbart groaned. “How did I raise such an idiot?? Now listen closely. Mutatio.”

Roland sighed, but he tried a little harder. “Mutatio.”

That was when he felt the magic that his father had cast over his face begin to work. All his skin from his cheeks to his nose, from his chin to his forehead, began to itch.

Roland started to reach up to his face, but his father smacked his hand away with a hiss. “Don’t touch your face while the magic is working dolt!”

Roland grimaced and resisted the urge to scratch. The transformation only took a moment, but in that heartbeat the itching was almost unbearable. And then just as suddenly, it stopped.

Rothbart smiled. “Perfect.”

“How long does it last?” Roland asked just as Mari hurried over and touched his face, her brown eyes wide with concern. Roland swatted her hands away.

“It should last long enough,” Rothbart explained with a smile.

Roland muttered. “What if I want to dispel it sooner?”

Rothbart flopped into his chair staring at his son for a moment before he said. “Say, demutatio.”

Roland muttered. “Demutatio.”

He felt the itch again, but also the sensation of cool water washing over his face. Roland shuddered just as Mari threw her arms around Roland when the mask was gone.

Rothbart wrinkled his nose.

“You really need to make sure it doesn’t react like that during the ball.” He pointed at Mari.

Roland pushed her off. “You’re the one who made her attached to me. I can’t help it if she acts all...strange.”

“Well just make sure it plays its part son. I put a lot of magic into that creation and I don’t want the planned spoiled because you can’t control that sarding puppet.” Rothbart snarled. “Now go and get it dressed. We have a ball to attend.”

*

Bog was walking through the halls of the castle dressed in his finest clothing. He wore black pants, black leather boots that reached up to the middle of his thighs, and a black and silver leather and velvet doublet. He had opted for a simple silver crown circled in sapphires; it rested on his brow, the stones brought out the deep blue color of his eyes, and a sword hung at his hip while he hurried down the hall to the main ballroom. He was intent to inspect everything. He wanted every detail to be beautiful, to be perfect when Marianne returned. He would have liked to have ridden out to the lake to fetch her himself, but being the prince, his mother really needed his help to organize this blasted ball. Besides, he supposed her making a dramatic entrance would be amazing! Everyone who had thought her lost all this time would be standing there staring with their mouths hanging open when Marianne made her grand entrance.

Bog scolded himself as he picked up his pace. It was not a blasted ball, it was his chance to prove his love and break the spell that kept Marianne and him apart. He sighed and wished that breaking the spell had required him to fight a monster instead; it would have been less stressful than a ball. Bog hated these kinds of social events...all the people, the loud noise, the feeling of the over crowded spaces. Bog stopped and leaned against the tapestry covered wall for a moment. He smiled remembering a time he and Marianne had escaped to the gardens during one of his mother’s summer balls…

They had been children, still did not like each other much, but they had been willing to put their differences aside to help each other escape outside. They had wandered down to the fountain in the middle of one of the gardens where they had splashed and played, ruining their evening clothing. They had played in the water, splashing each other, jumping and laughing, until they both looked like they had been drowned.

Bog chuckled remembering Queen Lily trying not to laugh and his mother groaning and muttering when the two of them had been found. His mother lamented that she had raised a barbarian instead of a prince.

Bog sighed. He would love to run away with Marianne and play in the fountain with her...he blushed. Marianne wet, her dress sticking to her now…her smile...her laugh...

Bog pushed himself from the wall where he had taken a moment to reminisce. He smiled, took a deep breath and told himself that he needed to focus on the ball. Soon he would have Marianne in his arms again…

*

Marianne sighed. She felt weak. Two days trapped in the tree she had drifted in sleep. Her dreams had been plagued by both good dreams and bad. The good dreams had been beautiful. She had dreamed of Bog, his long fingered hands so graceful, so tender reaching for her, cupping her face as he pulled her closer, his lips over hers, the soft feel of them as he pressed his mouth down on hers. The soft, sweet caress of his tongue in her mouth followed the feel of his body as he tugged her closer...the warmth of his body pressed against her...his hands wrapping around her...the kiss deepening before he would pull back and whisper:

“I love you Marianne.”

But then the dream had dissolved into something horrible…

Bog gasped in shock, the point of a blade appearing in the middle of his chest. He would start to cough up blood...it would be so red, like no color of red Marianne had ever seen. The blood would dribble off his lips and down his chin. Flecks of blood splattering her face. Bog would reach for her and she would try to grab him, try to help him, but he would fall to his knees, his fingers sliding down over her chest leaving streaks of blood on her breast of sudden white feathers.

Marianne would be the swan again, honking and flapping her wings as Bog died in a pool of blood. She had been unable to do anything, unable to help her love...she had been forced to watch him die. Bog’s death in the dream would be followed by Rothbart’s laugh.

Marianne only woke at the moment she felt herself losing control of her mind, as her eyes lost their human gleam and Marianne would fully become the swan.

*

Night had fallen around her when Marianne woke with a gasp, tears running down her eyes. She struggled against the tree for a few seconds in desperation until finally she screamed in frustration.

Only then did she realize she was human once more.

Sunny, who had stayed with her, looked up from his position, nestled between the roots of the tree. “Hey Marianne.”

For a moment the princess was confused. “What day is it?”

Sunny gave her a froggy frown. “It's the night of the ball...the night that fairy promised to release you.”

She looked around frantically, turning as much as the her prison would allow. “Aura!!! Fairy!! Where are you??!!”

The air in front of Marianne shimmered and Aura seemed to form out of nothingness. The bluish fairy smiled.

“Hello my dear. I see the moon has done its work. Are you still willing to give me my boon?” Aura’s wings moved lazily. Marianne wasn’t sure if the fairy actually needed the wings to fly; she seemed to move by will alone.

“Yes!! Yes! Please!!” Marianne struggled against the tree.

Aura frowned motioning at her with her hands. “Calm down.”

Marianne stopped, but her tear stained face still looked desperate. Aura closed her eyes and held up her hands, her fingers spread.

“I release you,” was all she said.

The tree groaned softly. The sound reminded Marianne of walking in the woods and hearing the sound of tree branches moving against other trees, the haunting whisper of trees moved by the breeze, a soft moan of creaking wood…

The bark pulled back from her body slowly, as if the tree was caressing her skin in a sweet farewell. Just as the bark pulled back from her, Marianne stumbled forward and dropped painfully to her knees, then her hands, her long hair falling over her face, there were bits of bark and sap trapped in the long locks of her hair. Marianne’s dress was torn in places and sticky with sap as well. She remained like that for a few seconds, catching her breath, her eyes looking down at her hand with the missing tip of one finger.

She frowned.

Aura clapped and flitted around with delight, but Sunny hurried over to Marianne, hopping closer to her face.

“Marianne? Are you all right?”

She nodded, slowly pushing herself up and tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked up at the fairy. “Thank you.”

Aura smiled. “No need to thank me, just give me your hair.”

Marianne nodded. “Of course…” She stood up shakily. “How...how shall I cut it?”

Aura flew closer and held out her hand, on the palm of the fairy’s hand lay a blade. The blade was long and curved, and seemed to be made from wood. The wood of the blade was so dark that it almost looked black to Marianne. The hilt was a lighter shade of brown wood, and there were intricate patterns carved into the hilt. Marianne couldn’t see them perfectly, but the patterns reminded her of flowering vines.

“Cut your hair with this,” Aura whispered as she hovered closer.

Marianne swallowed and took the knife. It did indeed feel like a piece of wood in her hand. She brushed her long hair over her shoulders, brought the knife blade up to just over her ear. She closed her eyes. This was far harder than she thought it would be, to cut her hair, but she would give up anything to save Bog. Anything for him...she loved him more than life itself.

With that she yanked the blade across her hair. Though the knife was wood, it was clearly magical and sliced through her thick locks easily. Marianne gasped when the blade cut through her hair so easily. She glanced once at the hair in her hand before she simply held it out to the fairy.

Aura squealed with delight flying around in a circle so fast that neither Marianne nor Sunny could see more than a shimmering blue blur for a few seconds. The fairy shot out, snatched the hair for the princess’s outstretched hand, then flipped and fluttered into a blue blur once more. When she finally stopped in her erratic flight, holding the thick, long length of Marianne’s chestnut hair in her hands, she gazed at the long strands of brown hair as if she had been given a gift of precious jewels.

“Oh this is so lovely! Thank you!!” Aura wrapped the hair around her shoulders with a grin, holding Marianne’s locks to her cheeks and smiled. “Oh you made me so happy.” With that the hair disappeared into nothingness.

Marianne reached up touching her hair, or lack thereof and it felt so strange. Her neck felt chilled and she felt light. It was such an odd sensation, almost as odd as when she changed into a swan or being trapped in a tree.

Aura grinned brightly at her. “Well, you better get going my pretty goose.”

She pointed up. Through the branches of the trees, Marianne looked up just in time to see the clouds moving over the pale face of the moon. At the same time she felt the tickle of the magic, it wouldn’t be long before she changed into a swan.

Marianne scooped up Sunny, tossing the frog onto her shoulder, trusting him to hold on and started to run in the direction she hoped led to Bog. She would take to the air as soon as the magic allowed.

“Wait!!” Aura yelled holding her arm up and hurrying after them, the blue glow emanating from her body shimmering slightly in the evening darkness.

The two figures turned around; Marianne looking frantic to keep moving.

Aura grinned. ‘Here, take this--you’re gonna need it.”

A tiny ball of light, almost the size of Sunny appeared in the fairy’s hand. She bounced it a few times with a grin. “You’ll need a little light, it’s about to get a whole lot darker out there.” She bounced the tiny ball toward Marianne and Sunny. They both flinched thinking it was about to hit them, but the tiny ball of blue light stopped right at the tip of her nose and hovered here. Aura grinned merrily. “It will follow you until you reach the castle.”

Marianne stared at the ball of light then whispered. “What do I owe you?”

Aura smiled. “Just go.”

Marianne smiled and nodded, taking off toward the castle.

Aura watched her go just as the moonlight disappeared.

“Good luck little princess.”

*

The ballroom of the castle was decorated in pink and purple primroses and peonies decorated every surface while garlands of green mixed with the flowers decorated and encircled every doorway. Nobles and royalty from all over milled around the ballroom as light stringed music played softly. Tables were filled from edge to edge with desserts, all of Marianne’s favorites. Servants moved among the guests with glasses of the finest wine and punch while others carried trays of appetizers. Bog had made sure they were all Marianne’s favorites (though he made sure to include everything his favorite ray of sunshine Dawn would love too).

The colorful dresses of the ladies and the colorful to somber clothing of the men mixed with the soft, fancifulness of the room. Candlelight danced against crystal, and all the precious gems worn by the guests made the light in the room dance and would have reminded Bog of fairy lights if not for how worried and nervous he was right now. Bog’s heart was beating hard in his chest as he paced the edges of the ballroom while he waited for Marianne. He fretted, his hands moving from folding his fingers together, to rubbing the back of his neck, to fiddling with his tunic. Dawn was sitting nearby, her broken leg up, and watching him with a slight frown. She looked beautiful in a long pale blue gown with a matching blue overcoat with bell sleeves. The whole dress was highlighted by silver thread that was woven throughout the dress in intricate flower and vine designs, with little silver birds here and there hidden in the pattern. The overcoat of the dress had flower shaped silver clasps that resembled tiny silver flowers that matched the silver hair pins in her long blonde hair. Her hair was half braided and pulled back, while the rest of her blonde fell loose around her shoulders. Next to her sat his mother, watching her son with equal concern.

Griselda was dressed in sleeveless gown of rich gold and bronze embroidery. Her hair was styled up in an intricate pattern of twists and braids, kept in place by golden dragonfly pins and a golden crown circled with clear white diamonds. She watched her son nervously, wondering if perhaps he had been wrong about Marianne after all. It was possible that he was suffering from a delusion brought on by being lost in the forest, maybe...and it hurt her to think this, maybe her son was having a breakdown…

“Bog...perhaps…” Griselda stood and reached out to her son. She gently brushed his arm. “Perhaps you only thought…”

He turned on his mother, his blue eyes desperate with pain and hope warring for dominance. “She’ll be here mother...she will.” His voice broke. “She has to be here.” Bog pressed his fist to his chest. “I can’t...I love her...I just...she has to come…”

Griselda reached up and stroked her son’s face. “Oh darling…”

*

Marianne had transformed only minutes after she had left the fairy behind. She was now flying as fast as she could. She was weak and tired, however, which was making it difficult to stay above the treeline. She was breathing heavily, she felt slight tremors beginning to shake her wings, and she was trying to remember how to get to the castle from the map she had seen in the dark. It was so dark, the moon covered by clouds, and no stars, though the blue will-o-wisp of light that followed them helped save Marianne from running into anything.

Sunny was holding onto her back speaking words of encouragement when he yelled and pointed with his froggy hand. “There!! Marianne!! The castle!!”

Marianne, whose head had been drooping, looked up. It was still a long distance away, but she could see lights.

She hissed. “We can make it Sunny!”

Sunny grinned happily.

*

Roland sat nervously in the carriage with Mari beside him, his father sitting across from him. Both of them wore their magical masks, except Mari of course. Her long brown hair was styled in a soft braid with white larkspur woven throughout. Her dress, also white, had a white gold embroidered corset and long flowing skirt that shimmered and moved like water when she walked. She had simple white slippers on, and the signet ring from Bog on her finger. Roland and his father were both dressed in white and silver as well, but unlike Mari, their clothing was another of Rothbart’s illusions.

His father was smiling as they pulled up to the castle. The last to arrive.

Rothbart leaned forward when the carriage stopped. “Are you ready boy?”

Roland nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Do not fuck this up boy.” Rothbart narrowed his eyes at his son. His expression and demeanor were cold.

“I won’t father,” Roland said quietly before he nearly jumped out of the carriage. He reached in, took Mari’s hand and led her out. Rothbart followed, but with another stern look at his son, he walked away to wait.

Roland sighed then looked at Mari. “Remember what I told you.”

Mari only smiled.

Roland sighed. “Come on.”

*

Bog had just decided that he would ride out to the lake. Something had gone wrong when the doors at the end of the hall opened.

Bog turned to see Marianne standing framed in the doorway. She looked beautiful he thought, almost unreal as she stood there. Her brown eyes scanned the room until they found Bog. She smiled. If the smile seemed odd, if her expression didn’t reach her eyes, Bog didn’t notice. He started to move toward her like he was under a spell.

The room had gone quiet, the low murmur of conversation stopped as the crowd instinctively parted to allow the princess a path to the prince.

Dawn gasped out loud, her hands coming up to her mouth in shock as she whispered, “Marianne.”

Griselda had gone still, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Marianne...but something seemed wrong. There was something unnatural about the way the young woman moved...and her expression. Griselda couldn’t be sure what it was, but something seemed...wrong.

Bog rushed across the room to meet Marianne, grabbing her hands. His smile was wide, his blue eyes brimmed with tears of happiness. “You’re here!! Oh Marianne!!”

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in his embrace. “I was so worried Marianne, but you’re here!”

He didn’t notice that Marianne didn’t react to him, she neither embraced him in return nor did she say a word, but Bog was too overjoyed to notice her odd behavior.

He lifted her off her feet and spun around and that was the moment the crowd broke into applause. Dawn reached for Griselda, her smile at seeing her sister transforming into a slight frown. Something seemed very wrong with her sister. She couldn’t be certain what it was, but that didn’t seem like Marianne...not precisely.

“Griselda?”

Griselda looked down at the young princess. “You see it too?”

Dawn nodded. “I’m not sure what it is, but Marianne looks...wrong. Everything feels wrong somehow...”

Griselda nodded. The air of the ballroom had turned...chill. It was the strangest sensation.

*

Roland frowned watching Bog and Mari. He moved along the edges of the crowd, no one noticing the plain looking young man in white; all eyes were on the missing princess and the prince. Roland’s fingers seemed to itch, forcing him to reach down and touch the dagger that was hidden at his hip.

*

Panting, Marianne crashed when they arrived at the castle in the same instant the will-o-wisp disappeared. Her landing was less than spectacular as she hit the ground, crashing into the garden. She yelped and rolled several times before finally coming to a stop against the marble edge of the garden fountain. The pain that radiated through her took her breath away and she struggled to get to her feet.

She looked around frantically. “Sunny? Sunny!”

She heard something move in the water of the fountain and turned just as Sunny jumped up on the edge. He gave her a froggy grin.

“Sorry Marianne! I jumped when I saw you were going to crash.” Sunny gave her an apologetic smile.

Marianne sagged with relief. “Oh thank goodness you’re not hurt. Come on!”

Sunny nodded and jumped onto her feathered back. Marianne flapped her wings. From here she could see the castle windows. With so many guests in the castle, and all the lit candles, the ballroom would be stuffy; several of the windows were open to let in the fresh night air. Marianne aimed for one of these windows. She took a few steps, jogging toward the castle then lifted into the air and flew through a window.

*

Bog stood with the princess at his side, the entire crowd watching and waiting. Bog smiled looking sideways at Marianne.

“I love you,” he whispered. He frowned slightly when Marianne only smiled at him. She didn’t say a word and only now did he notice that there was something odd about her eyes. He shook the strange feeling off deciding they were both just nervous.

Bog smiled back at the crowd. “Everyone…” He looked across the room to Dawn and his mother.

“Mother, Dawn...my little sunshine…”

*

Dawn hissed at Griselda. “Something isn’t right...you need to stop him. Do you feel it?”

Griselda frowned and nodded as she began to take a step forward.

*

Marianne burst through the window. She looked around frantically. She knew this hall, the ballroom was just to the right. She took off flying down the hall. She smiled to herself as she burst into the ballroom.

*

Bog smiled at the crowd. “Tonight, everyone...Marianne has been returned to me, tonight I have been given a gift.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

*

Roland tensed himself, ready to strike. Mari turned to look at him, her face lighting up when she saw him. She started to move away from Bog. Roland glanced around frantically and motioned for her to stay put.

*

“I make a vow to break all vows. I make a vow stronger than all the powers of the earth. I make a vow of everlasting love to Marianne.” Bog turned to her, taking her hands, his face alight with happiness.

Across the room, Marianne had just flown through the archway leading into the ballroom at the moment that Bog had uttered his vow. She flapped her wings, letting out a mournful cry that was heard by the crowd as a honk. “BOG!”

One of the guest saw the swan and let out a scream. Immediately confusion erupted into chaos at the sight of a large, white swan in the ballroom.

Bog turned at the sound and saw the swan. His eyes widened in horror…

“Marianne?” Bog mumbled in confusion.

He turned toward the Marianne standing next to him just as a strange man rushed up to Bog.

The man hissed. “You made the wrong choice.”

Bog, confused, looked at the man just as the blade pierced through his tunic and into his side. Bog gasped in pain, reaching out and grabbing the man’s shoulders.

*

Dawn screamed. “BOG!”

Griselda was looking frantically between her son and the sudden appearance of a swan.

Someone in the crowd yelled. “Get that swan!”

Griselda was confused, but she yelled out a command.

“NO!”

*

Rothbart chose that moment to enter the ballroom with a wicked laugh escaping his lips.

Chapter Text

The ballroom was in chaos, people running and screaming as Rothbart made his grand entrance.

The sorcerer smiled as he walked, a slow self-assured demeanor obvious as he moved along the center of the ballroom as guests scattered. A few guards were able to gather themselves enough to form an attack, placing themselves between this man and their injured prince, but Rothbart simply tossed his hand as if he were swatting flies; an invisible wave of force sent the guards flying into the walls of the ballroom. The men and women of the guard collapsed on the floor, unconscious or dead.

Roland, after stabbing Bog, had immediately released the spell on his face and quickly mixed into the crowd, but Mari--seeing Roland reveal his true face--quickly followed him as Roland hurried to leave the ballroom. He held the bloody knife inside his tunic, hidden from view and crouching and forcing his way through the crowd who were all headed in the same direction, the opposite direction his father had just appeared. Roland nearly became dizzy with relief when he saw that the exit wasn’t guarded at the moment, that people were simply fleeing the castle in droves. He stopped and turned to look behind him. He looked down the hall and into the ballroom, the blood draining from his face.

*

Bog was still kneeling in the middle of the ballroom, blood soaking the front of his tunic, his pants, and his hands. Bog’s attention wasn’t on the blood slowly flowing out of him, but rather was focused on man who had entered the ballroom. Roland saw the prince’s bodyguards rush to defend their prince, one on either side, weapons drawn and the queen rushing toward her son without heeding the danger that Roland’s father imposed.

Roland felt confused, conflicted. This isn't how any of this was supposed to happen. Yes, a forced marriage...but that happened all the time in politics, some money exchanged here or there, maybe a favor bought and sold. But this--murder…

A frown settled over Roland’s face. His father’s plan had turned into a bloody mess and he was now being forced to flee, after making an attempt upon the prince’s life...even if he was sure no one saw it was him...and now poor, innocent Mari was involved too. None of this was what Roland had wanted...none of it.

Roland glanced at Mari who had been forgotten in the chaos. She was grasping his upper arm looking around in panic. She glanced at Bog down the hall, then back at him and Roland felt a stab of shame in his chest.

“I’m sorry Mari,” he muttered to her reaching over to cover her hand with his own. He was pleased that her touch was like that of any living person. “You didn’t ask for any of this…”

Roland took a deep breath and decided to focus on one thing; he needed to get Mari out of here before things settled down and she was hurt. Roland reached around and grabbed the homunculus’s hand. She looked at him with what he felt was an earnest expression. He gave her a reassuring smile before they raced toward the exit--and hopefully escape.

*

Griselda watched as time slowed. The moment her child was hurt would repeat itself in her mind forever, just like all the times when Bog had hurt himself as a child. She felt every pain her little boy had ever felt as if those pains were hers.

But now, watching her son--her only son, her little boy, her child--fall to his knees holding his side, his fingers covered in blood, Griselda’s eyes opened wide in fear and horror. It took only a heartbeat from the time that Bog dropped to his knees before his clothing was stained with blood, drops like crimson jewels falling to splash upon the ballroom floor. She noticed in that instant, her son’s blood was so bright, the brightest color in the room she thought. The blood hit the floor, tiny drops of blood burst up from the spilled drop that splattered to the ballroom floor…

It took a moment for her mind to catch up...her son was bleeding.

Griselda was moving before she realized it, everything speeding up as she grabbed up her dresss and ran across the space, shoving guests and guards out of her way to get to her son. She cried out reaching for her child.

“BOG!”

Bog looked up, his face pale, and his expression conveyed his confusion. His two bodyguards, Stuff and Thang, who had been nearby during the announcement, now stood with their weapons out, standing between the stranger who had boldly entered and the prince.

Thang turned his head to look at the queen. “Your majesty!”

But Griselda wasn’t listening as her arms went around her son’s shoulders.

*

Across the room, temporarily forgotten and confined to her chair, Dawn cried out, her hands snapped up to her mouth in shock at seeing Bog hurt and her “sister” turn and vanish into the crowd. People were rushing everywhere, there was screaming, guards doing their best to maintain some sort of order…

Dawn had seen the swan burst into the room almost within seconds of Bog’s declaration...at the same time Dawn had felt her stomach drop, she had simply known instinctively that something had gone very wrong in that moment, the moment when Bog’s declaration was suppose to have broken the spell that held her sister.

Dawn, grabbed the wheels of her chair, eyes were darting everywhere trying to understand what was happening.

Hadn’t Bog said something about Marianne being cursed to be a swan...So why would a swan just show up? Unless, she thought...the woman who looked exactly like her sister, but who had felt wrong to Dawn, wasn’t in fact her sister. And it would make sense if the odd Marianne was something or someone else and that swan she had seen was in fact Marianne...

Dawn had thought something seemed odd about her sister, especially when she didn't even acknowledged her. She knew Marianne was in love and cursed, but she would have thought her sister would have at least shared a look with her, a smile, some acknowledgement that she was there...Dawn cursed at herself wishing she had given her own misgivings more thought!

Dawn bit her bottom lip trying to figure out what she could do! Bog was hurt, her sister was gone and she was unable to do much.

Just as she started to try to move her wheeled chair closer, ready to fight her way toward Bog and Griselda, looking around frantically for the swan she had seen only moments ago...when a frog jumped onto her lap.

Dawn’s exclamation was more of surprise than fear as she looked on stunned at the frog on her lap, her hands still on the wheels of her chair. Of all the things she thought might happen as she tried to get to Bog, a frog jumping on her wasn’t one of them. When the frog didn’t immediate attack or turn into anything, Dawn paused.

“A frog?” she whispered in shocked surprise.

The frog, which was staring back at her...really staring at her with strangely, almost human eyes pointed over her shoulder. Dawn lifted a brow at the frog and turned. She really didn’t see much at first, just a lot of people running, but for a moment she thought she caught a glimpse of a bird, white feathers over the frantic heads of the guests who were fleeing.

Dawn looked back at the frog. “Is that Marianne?”

She had no idea why she was asking a frog…

The frog nodded.

Dawn let out a squeak of surprise. She blinked several times but quickly decided that she was not going to question an intelligent frog, who at the moment at least, seemed to want to help, so as strange as her conversation was Dawn asked.

“Where is she going? What’s going on?”

The frog frowned and shrugged making a soft sad ribbit. Dawn caught her lips in frustration watching the frog intently, clearly that was more than a frog could answer. Dawn hissed in frustration, her attention divided between wanting to pursue her sister and to help Bog...but she was stuck in a chair either way. The frog waved at her, drawing her attention back to it. The frog made a gesture, placed its webbed front feet together then made a wave with its tiny frog arms.

Dawn blinked having no idea what the frog was doing and starting to doubt whether the frog was actually communicating. The notion was ludicrous, Dawn had to admit.

The frog sighed, dropped its shoulders in frustration, and vocalized a ribbit again.

*

Sunny had leapt toward the only safety he had seen available to him when Marianne made a sudden turn in the air, surprised him, and he lost his grip. He had twisted in the air and aimed for the young woman who, unlike everyone else in the room, was stationary. He wasn’t sure why he chose her, only that she seemed like a safe bet in the chaos that followed Bog’s stabbing and Rothbart’s entrance.

He had called after Marianne when she turned and flew out of the room, but she hadn’t responded to him. He could only guess she was returning to the lake. Whether it was the magic compelling her or her broken heart, he couldn't know, but that seemed to make sense to him. So many things were happening at once that he didn’t know what to do, but when Sunny had landed on the tiny blonde’s lap, something deep inside him told him she could help.

She was the only chance he had at the moment and since she hadn’t backhanded him off her lap as soon as he tried to communicate, he figured he had a pretty good chance of getting help from her...if they could only understand each other.

Dawn let out a startled squeak as one of the royal guards suddenly grabbed her chair and wheeled the young princess around. Dawn struggled to turn to see who had her. It was a young woman...that looked exactly like her sister. Next to her was a young man, blonde...good looking...who seemed vaguely familiar, but Dawn couldn’t place…

The young man didn’t smile as he hissed, “Just shut up, we’re getting you out of here and outside, okay?”

Dawn nodded mutely as the woman, who looked exactly like her sister, smiled at her and pushed Dawn’s chair along.

(Sunny didn’t know what to do. He knew exactly who had Dawn, but no idea how to tell her. And oddly, for the moment, the two seemed to be pushing the princess away from the danger...but before Sunny could perform any possible action. He was scooped up by the princess and held in her hands as she was wheeled down the hall away from the evil wizard.)

*

Griselda whispered to her son as he struggled to stand. He was pale, covered in a fine layer of perspiration and still bleeding, leaning heavily on his mother. Griselda didn’t know what to do except to implore her son: “Bog don’t…

Bog turned toward Rothbart. The interloper stood as bold as brass in the middle of the ballroom grinning from ear to ear, his hands settled on his hips in confidence. Bog on the other hand, kept one hand on his mother’s shoulder, the other on his wound, but he still stood tall as he faced his adversary.

“Who are you?!” His voice--despite the pain he was clearly in--was booming and clear.

“Pledge your love to another.” Rothbart chuckled. “How stupid.”

Bog looked around frantically, everything had happened so quickly that he hadn’t realized Marianne had disappeared...but...there had been that swan. His mind and his heart twisted in confusion and even though he asked the question of the man in front of him, Bog knew the answer already. “What have you done with Marianne!”

Bog took a step, blood dripping onto the stone floor, his hand dropping from his mother’s shoulder.

Rothbart laughed. “Oh, you thought that was Marianne, did you? No, no...that was just my doll, my puppet. No, no...the swan was your true love, prince. Which I have to say, I give the girl credit, she somehow freed herself and showed up here, at the ball...I really am quite impressed with your princess. But, none of it matters: your love, her determination, all of it was for nothing. You both failed.” Rothbart tilted his head back as he laughed. “I’m sure the magic has compelled her back to the lake where she can die on the water.” He laughed, higher pitched this time, clearly amused with the unfolding events.

Bog started at the man, his voice low, taking a step toward Rothbart. The prince growled and his blue eyes flashed dangerously. “It’s you...you are the one that killed the Queen! You hurt the Princess Dawn and cursed Marianne.”

Rothbart bowed with both arms out wide, the smile on his face showed the man was clearly pleased with himself. “Yes, yes indeed I did. This was not my original plan, dear prince, I only wanted Marianne to rule her land through my son--legitimately too. But you and the princess changed my mind, forced me to think bigger...two kingdoms are better than one. Though I am sad to hear that Princess Dawn isn’t among the dead. I’ll have to fix that after I’m king.”

Bog snarled. “You’ll not lay a hand on her you monster!”

Rothbart laughed. “Oh and who is going to stop me Prince Bog? You?” the sorcerer asked with a curl of his lip.

Bog put his hand on his mother’s shoulder as she moved up beside him again. He pressed his other hand tighter against his wound, sweat running slowly down his face. He looked confused and in pain as he hissed. “But...I made a vow of everlasting love...to Marianne.”

Rothbart laughed. “You fool, you made it to the wrong princess!! You made it to a creature of my making. Now princess Marianne is going to die. You are going to die...and I...well I get everything!”

Stuff and Thang shared a look without words before Stuff turned to Bog and Griselda.

“Your majesties...Bog...go and get to Marianne...don’t let her die. If what this dark wizard says is true...don’t let him win,” Stuff said earnestly. “True love has to win the day, correct?”

Thang grinned at his friend and king. “Go get her, sire.”

Bog reached for them both with his bloody hand. “But…”

Thang and Stuff reached out at the same time and grasped their majesty's hand, his blood smearing their fingers, the three of them sharing moment.

Thang giggled. “Better to die fighting for love, huh Stuff?”

Stuff smiled at him. “If we live Thang, you’re mine. Got it?”

Thang grinned. “Got it.”

Stuff and Thang glanced one more time at Bog, released his hand, and rushed toward Rothbart.

*

Bog cried out. “NO!”

There was a burst of light, but he couldn’t see what was happening as the sudden glow blinded him. Griselda turned her son around, holding him up the best she could, considering their height difference.

“Bog, listen to me. I’m going to bind your wound as well as I can in a few short moments. Then you have go son. You’ve got to go and save Marianne.”

Bog nodded. “Yes...I will…” He kept looking back toward his friends, but his mother was doing her best to rush him along.

Griselda’s heart was hurting. She didn’t want to see anything happen to Stuff and Thang; they were more than her son’s bodyguards, they were his friends. And she in many ways had seen the two as hers as they grew up together...but now was not the time for such worries. The two were doing now what they had trained for, what they had devoted their lives to, defending their Prince.

Griselda got her son into the hall just as the sounds of fighting began. She shoved the young man up against one of the tapestries, grabbing the hem of her gown and with a strength born of desperation, Griselda tore at her dress. Bog was barely standing, his legs shaking and ready to give out. The loss of blood and the shock of the wound itself and the possible loss of his love made him dizzy, though the pain had long faded to a dull coldness as his mother used the torn lengths of her dress to bind his wound. She pressed a wad of cloth against the wound, hoping it would stop the bleeding, and wrapped the cloth as firmly as she could around her son’s middle. It wasn’t a good bandage, but time wasn’t on their side.

Once she had his wound bound, Griselda grabbed her son’s face, forced him to look at her. “You come back to me Bog--you hear me?”

Bog smiled. He looked too pale, suddenly too thin, and too young...Griselda’s eyes stung as she leaned her forehead against her son’s chest. She was sending her only child into something she didn’t understand...

Bog reached out and cupped the back of his mother’s head, his voice soft as he said. “I’ll come back Mam...with Marianne. I promise.”

She looked up at her son, tears falling down her cheeks. She didn’t want to be crying when she sent him off--a queen was supposed to be strong--but she just couldn't halt the tears.

“Bog, I love you darling. I have always been proud of you. Your father…” she swallowed. “He…” She wiped angrily at her eyes, frustrated with herself but she couldn’t stop the blasted tears from falling. “He loved you so much sweetheart. Your father loved you.”

Bog smiled and wrapped his arms around his mother, hugging her tightly. “I love you too, Mam. I’ll come back. I promise.”

She sniffled and nodded against his chest silently. “You better. I want grandbabies.”

Bog chuckled weakly and nodded. “Yes Mam. I promise.”

She stepped back, gazing up at her son and whispered while touching his face, her fingers bloody from tending to his wound. “Go Bog, save your princess.”

Bog smiled and kissed his mother on the forehead before he stepped away from her. She stood watching him, her heart aching as her only child disappeared from her sight.

*

Rothbart snarled at the two fools who dared to stand before him. “You two want death so easily?”

He threw out his hands, fingers spread to cast a spell of blinding light. Stuff turned her shoulder to the old man, but then gasped as a bright flash disoriented her. Thang, who had been slightly turned away from the first blast, only caught a little bit of the light spell. He wasn’t completely blinded--there were still flashes of lights, a few shadows in his vision from the magical blast--but he could still dark shapes, a shadowy figure in front of him.

Rothbart had cast the spell and thought himself protected by the light’s blinding blast as he pulled his sword from his sheath and moved toward Stuff with the slow deliberate walk of a dangerous cat ready to cut her down, then Thang saw him move.

Thang moved past Stuff, throwing himself and his weapon in front of his partner, his sword clashing loudly with Rothbart’s. The two men snarled, their blades pressed together.

The wizard grinned. “Anxious to die, aren't you?”

Thang hissed. “No one hurts my prince and lives.”

“We’ll see about that.” Rothbart shoved pushing Thang back.

The two men didn’t hesitate, moving at each other again. Thang spun, his sword held high as the smaller man spun around, leaped into the air. But Rothbart was surprisingly agile for a man his age and easily deflected Thang’s sword. Thang hissed when he landed. He was in motion again as soon as his booted feet hit the stone. He twisted around, leaping into the air once more and snapped a leg out at the sorcerer. Rothbart snapped one arm out to block the kick with his forearm, but the tip of Thang’s cut a thin line along the wizard’s cheek.

Rothbart stumbled back reaching up to touch the wound in shock. “You cut me?!”

Thang grinned. “I may be short, but I am one of the Prince’s bodyguards you old fool.”

Rothbart’s eyes narrowed and his expression changed from smug amusement to hatred.

The two men came close again for a few exchanges of blows, metal clashing against metal. Thang wasn’t sure if the wizard wasn’t using his magic right now because of pride, but so far he hadn’t tried to blast Thang with magic. Thang grinned. Pride was his friend in this fight…

*

Stuff blinked several times, her vision slowly coming back to her. She could hear the sounds of steel striking steel. She had worked with Thang long enough that she could recognize his movements, could pick out his breathing without seeing him and she knew he had engaged the wizard. She wrapped her hands more firmly around her weapon, blinking until she finally saw shadows moving not too far in front of her. The small, swiftly moving swordsman had to be Thang. She smiled with pride as she saw Thang leaping and swinging. He was good, very good, but just as she readied herself to come to his aid she saw something that made her heart stop.

The two shadows rushed toward each other, the shorter one, the one she knew had to be Thang lunged, his legs wide, the stance like an arrow, his sword an extension of himself…

The taller shadow--the wizard--lashed out with his sword aimed high...chest high. Stuff couldn’t see clearly yet, and the two shadows had turned into one. She took a step forward.

“Thang…?” Her voice broke as the smaller shadow crumbled.

*

Bog staggered out into the yard pushing himself pass guests still trying to flee as he made his way to the stables. His focus was narrowed to only one thing, finding Marianne. He didn’t care about anything else. He stumbled to the stables pushing his way past guests and the castle help as he concentrated on finding his horse...the animal wasn’t saddled, but Bog didn’t care. He guided the animal out of the stable, the horse was a testament to her discipline and training that the chaos outside didn’t cause her to fight him or to kick any of the frightened guests. Bog grabbed hold of her mane and lifted himself onto her back.

He groaned in pain, leaning against the animal’s neck, brushing her mane and cooing softly.

“I need your help,” he whispered. “I need your strength…”

His horse forced air through her nose before turning and taking off in the direction of the lake hidden deep in the woods.

*

Marianne could feel the compulsion of the magic pulling her toward the lake. She tried to fight it, but the spell refused to let her break free. Her will was tangled in the claws of the evil magic that Rothbart had used to curse her and she could not fight it any more than one could fight the coming of a storm.

She gave up trying to fight against the magic and just flew. Her heart was breaking. She knew Bog hadn’t betrayed her, she saw the person to whom he had given his vow...it had been like looking into a mirror. If she had been human...the woman was her...Bog had been fooled by some sort of magic.

Marianne choked on a sob as she flew through the night. No, Bog hadn’t betrayed her at all; her heart was breaking because for a moment, she really believed that they would win, that she and Bog would have their happy ending after all…but they had both been wrong...magic was stronger than love...

Chapter Text

Aura sat among the branches of her tree singing softly to herself while she braided the hair she had received. The hair was wrapped around the tree, shimmering in the ambient light that emanated from the fairy herself. She was excited; there was so much magic she could do with this hair. Aura grinned, running her fingers through the thick brown hair, braiding the fine strands, her fingers moving to the gentle cadance of the song.

“Tá bó liom ar a' sliabh, is gan éinne beo 'na diaidh

Ó chailleasa mo chiall le nuachar,

Á seoladh soir is siar ins gach áit a ngabhann an ghrian

Ó mhaidin go dubh an tráthnóna.

Nuair a fhéachaim féin anonn san áit ina mbíodh mo rún

Sileann óm' shúile deora,

'S a Rí úd thuas na n

Dúl, nach mór an donas dúinn

Gur bean dubh a bhuaigh faoi bhrón mé….”

She stumbled over the last words when she caught the erratic movement of something in the dark night sky. She frowned as she peered upwards, searching for what had caught her attention. Aura’s bluish hair moved with a wind that wasn’t there, drifting around her head and shoulders as she searched the sky, until she saw the shadow again, zipping and dipping...it took the little fairy several moments of intense scrutiny before she frowned in confusion...the swan? She thought to herself it couldn’t be the princess, she was off getting her prince wasn’t she? Unless…

The fairy drifted up higher until she was above the embrace of her tree and she could see more clearly just as the swan crashed through the branches and onto the still waters of the lake, shattering its surface like glass.

Aura swooped down, racing toward the water. The swan was lying on the top of the water, floating lifeless, her wings spread out on the lake’s surface. She could see the shadow of the swan laying across the surface not moving. Aura swooped closer, reaching out to stroke her fingers along the swan’s throat.

“Princess?” The fairy brushed her fingers along the unconscious princess’s beak. “Sweet princess you have to wake up, the story isn’t done yet, I promise...please.”

Aura looked around in confusion, as if she would see something or someone who would make sense of the situation. Something had gone terribly wrong. She eased the swan into her arms and carried her to the lake’s edge.

“Princess? Marianne?” The fairy stroked her fingers through the young bird’s feathers. She could feel the life fading in the young woman as the magic sparkled and began to fade.

“Oh no…” the fairy murmured.

*

Bog held onto the horse’s neck with all his might. The jostling and bumping of the horse as she plunged through the forest caused his wound to bleed more; the hole in his side seemed to hurt worse with each stumble run over rocks and branches, with each leap of the horse as Bog tugged gently on her mane to move her one way or another, until blood was dripping from Bog onto the coarse mane of the horse and down her neck. Bog, with sweat covering in his face, struggled to hold onto his mount’s mane and ignore the pain in his side. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of the spell Marianne was under, but he knew enough about magic in fairy tales to know that his vow--given falsely to another--would have dire consequences for Marianne. He couldn’t let that happen. He would rather die himself than let anything happen to the woman he loved because he had been an ignorant, excited fool, letting his own happiness and pleasure blind him to what Marianne had really needed from him.

Bog ground his teeth against the pain and urged his mount faster.

*

Griselda rushed back into the ballroom. As queen, she had to do all she could to protect her people; as a mother, she needed to give her son time to save Marianne. It wasn’t a difficult choice.

As she raced back toward the sounds of fighting, she stopped along the way when she came upon the body of one of the very young guards. She dropped to her knees beside him, feeling for a pulse. Her heart hammered against her chest, her fingers cold, and just when she thought she wouldn’t find anything she felt a beat against her fingertips at the young man’s throat. He lived.

She checked swiftly though not thoroughly for any wounds, but the young man seemed to have been simply knocked unconscious either during the initial stampede of guests leaving or maybe by Rothbart’s entrance, who could say. But as Griselda looked the young man over she saw his blade at his hip, a heavy sword, but not too heavy for her to handle. The aging monarch pulled the blade out of its sheath and smiled with a glance back toward the wizard. It had been several years since she had used a sword, but it was not something a queen forgot how to do.

*

Rothbart laughed, standing in the middle of the ballroom, gloating and bloated on his own power. Stuff held her axe in both hands, her eyes narrowed while her heart beat painfully against her sternum. She could see Thang, lying on his side, with a small pool of blood under him. She couldn’t see the damage, how severe or what exactly the wizard had done to him, but knowing Thang was hurt...she trembled. A low growl started low in her throat that blossomed into a full battle cry as she brought her weapon up and charged the sorcerer.

Rothbart smiled watching the large woman come toward him. Fools he thought, always letting feelings interfere with their goals. Power, true power required sacrifice. That was exactly what Rothbart had done. He had sacrificed his wife, his child, all of it just so he could have a moment like this...where he was the absolute power. And soon, all of this, two kingdoms, would be his for the taking...fools like this woman moving toward him, so short-sighted, focused on love, family, friendship...that was why they would always lose.

Rothbart’s smile widened as he called his magic to him. He wasn’t an endless reservoir of magic, but he would easily have enough power to defeat this woman. Stuff rushed the wizard and then while she looked as if she was going to come in high to attack, she dropped to her knees at the last moment, sliding, (thanking the commander who had insisted on the knee high boots for all his guards) and brought her axe in low.

Rothbart, who had this hands held out in front of him, thinking to stop her weapon with a ray of frost, was caught by surprise when the woman suddenly dropped to the floor and slid. His spell when too high, completely missing the woman while he barely danced out of the way of her axe. Her swing had enough power that he actually heard it slice the air where he had only been standing a heartbeat before.

Stuff swung, turning and gaining her feet at the same time. She let out a snarl as she rose to her feet and swung the axe in a wide arc, almost caught the wizard in the back, but he spun around throwing what looked like a handful of small, sharp blades of light at her. She used her axe to block a handful of the magical projectiles, but several of them made it through her guard, cutting deeply along her face to leave long and bloody wounds on her cheeks and neck.

Stuff winced in pain, but realized the wounds were not life threatening and threw herself to the side, rolling out of the way of the wizard. Her body slammed into Thang who lay motionless on the floor. This close down beside him, she could see what had happened to her friend, the man she loved for so long…

Thang was breathing, and she could see that he had been burned along his neck and part of his face, but he also had lacerations on his hands and torso. A deep cut had ripped through his armor. Stuff could see the flesh underneath, cut and bleeding.

She snarled again and rose to her feet as the sorcerer grinned at her. “Ignorant woman, do you really think you can defeat me?”

He raised his hands only to be knocked to the side by the swing of a sword. The sorcerer stumbled, nearly falling. He turned with a stunned expression on his face to see the queen standing behind him with a sword in her hands, her red hair falling around her face in frizzy red curls, her dress torn.

Griselda snarled. “Get away from my son’s guard!”

Rothbart laughed at her. “Ohh ho!! You two foolish women!! Even together, do you really think you can defeat me?”

Griselda looked at the wizard, her lips twisted into a derisive sneer. “I don’t have to defeat you Rothbart, I only have to hurt you.”

She let out a battle cry that made Stuff proud. The queen lunged, and her blade thrust forward so swiftly that Rothbart was once more was caught off guard by the woman’s strength. The point of Griselda’s blade cut through his garments and bit into his flesh. Though the wound was only superficial, the wizard hissed in pain.

“You bitch!”

He threw out both hands and a blast of lightning struck the queen, throwing her back against a stone wall. She screamed in pain as the white hot current of magic ripped through her, but somehow, Griselda maintained her grip on the hilt of the sword.

Rothbart’s full attention was on the queen rather than on the fallen guard. Stuff leaned over and kissed Thang’s pale cheek with a whispered, “I love you, don’t you dare go anywhere Thang.”

She leapt to her feet to race to her queen’s rescue.

Stuff gripped her axe with both hands, putting as much power as she could behind her swing and slammed the axe into the back of the wizard’s knee, the blade driving deep into soft flesh. The wizard screamed.

*

Dawn was left outside. The strange man and the woman who looked like her sister had pushed her around, leaving the main part of the castle behind as they turned her toward the gardens. They arrived at the middle of the garden where the large swan fountain was located, when the blonde man finally snarled as he grabbed the handle of Dawn’s chair.

“Okay Mari, she’s safe--let’s go!” Roland grabbed the young woman’s arm. “We need to go!”

Mari frowned at him, but she stopped pushing the chair. Dawn turned to look around at the two of them. “Who are you? What’s going on? Why do you look like my sister?”

Roland hissed. “Look, you’re safe, just stay away from my father. Mari come on!”

He grabbed at the duplicate of Dawn’s sister.

Mari frowned reaching out a hesitant hand to run her fingers slowly over Dawn’s hair. Dawn stared at her. “Marianne?”

But the duplicate of her sister only smiled, caressing Dawn’s face as if something was pulling her toward Dawn. Roland grabbed Mari’s hand and quickly pulled her away from Dawn.

“We need to go Mari; we need to go now.”

Mari looked at Roland then back at Dawn. She dipped down and kissed a surprised Dawn’s cheek before she let Roland pull her away. Dawn watched in confusion as the two strange people retreated into the darkness. Dawn turned to look back toward the castle. She could still see people moving and the sounds of fighting. She could hear the sounds of horses, people...but it seemed so far away. She looked down at her lap where the odd frog still sat, curled close under her hands.

Dawn whispered, her voice soft with fear. “I don’t understand any of this but I’m scared.”

The frog hopped a little closer to her and leaned against her stomach. Dawn frowned then whispered softly.

“Are you trying to comfort me?”

The frog looked up and smiled at her. Dawn smiled back reaching down to run the tip of her finger along his head. The frog leaned into her touch. She grinned at the strange frog, then looked back toward the castle, her smile fading.

*

Bog was lying across his horse, his eyes closed. He was no longer hanging on, so that when the equally tired horse, struggling to keep up her pace, hit a root, she threw her rider. The prince simply collapsed to the ground at the moment the horse stumbled. He hit hard, let out a pained grunt as his momentum caused him roll until he stopped and slammed against a tree, a loud groan escaped his lips as his back crashed against the tree and knocked the air from his lungs.

Bog lay there unmoving, his face covered in sweat and blood from his bleeding nose and lips. He tried to summon up more strength. His eyes were closed as he tried to find his breath. It hurt to suck in air, each yelp was strained, each intake of air burned his throat and shot pain through his side, but he couldn’t stop, he had to keep moving.

Bog had to find her, he had to find and save his girl, his princess...his Marianne. He loved her too much to let her die because of his foolishness, his ignorance.

Bog rolled himself forward until he could push himself up on his hands and knees. His head hung down, blood dripped from his nose, and more from the wound at his side.

He could taste blood and felt weak, jittery, but he had to keep moving. He used the tree to pull himself to his feet, his fingers spasming against the bark, his eyes still shut against the pain of moving. Bog took a few more steadying breaths before he pushed himself up. He opened his eyes and smiled. There...he could see the horse as she milled about confused, and beyond her he could see the lake.

Gritting his teeth, Bog started to move, one step in front of the other, making his way to the lake.

*

Griselda screamed. Rothbart held her down, the magic holding the queen in place. She had her arm stretched out, the sword just inches from her fingertips. All she could think about was her son, her son, hurt and alone…

Rothbart hissed. “Why won’t you die old woman!”

Griselda could feel herself fading, the spell crushing her. As her vision began to darken at the edges, the spell suddenly snapped, the recoil so harsh that Griselda, weakened as she was, passed out.

Rothbart cried out in pain and rage as a burning, terrible pain ripped into the back of his leg. He spun unsteadily around to see Stuff standing there, her axe blade tainted with his blood. The woman grinned at him.

Rothbart hissed again. “I’ve played with you long enough. I have a prince to kill.”

Stuff held her weapon tight and moved, taking a step forward just as Rothbart snapped his hands out toward his foe. From the wizard’s outstretched palms, a blast of ice struck the large woman hard enough that she was thrown off her feet to slide across the ballroom floor. She slammed against the wall, the breath forced from her lungs; she could do nothing as the ice raced over her, freezing her to the wall. Stuff struggled against the bitter onslaught, but the ice formed too quickly for her; the ice burned as it sealed her against the wall, taking her breath, chilling her skin and muscles. It was a fight just to draw in a breath.

Rothbart dropped his hands with a smile. He glanced over at Griselda who wasn’t moving, Thang who hadn’t moved at all, just lying in a pool of blood, and not this woman, sealed in ice against the wall.

“Fools,” he muttered. “All of you fools. Don’t you know? I’ve already won.”

Her teeth chattering to the point she could barely speak, Stuff inhaled sharply and whispered.

“You won’t win. They will defeat you.”

“They?” Rothbart looked confused, but Stuff only smiled. “The prince and princess, they will defeat you…”

Stuff shuddered and closed her eyes, her skin fading to a white icy blue.

Rotbart narrowed his eyes. “No one can defeat me, not now.”

He turned away from the slowly dying guard with a snarl, one eye twitching. “Now, to find that prince…”

*

Aura held the princess, whose breath came in soft shudders, glancing up just as the clouds parted, as if sensing the magic coalescing, ready to act. The trees of the forest arched their trunks, opening up to allow the moon’s light access to the scene below.

Aura looked back down at the bird in her arms, watching the shimmer of moonlight that danced over the swan, causing the white feathers to glimmer like crystals just as they faded away, smoothing and blending into the soft porcelain skin of the Princess Marianne.

Marianne was pale, her breath ragged, still clothed in the sap stained dress from before. Aura stroked the princess’s short brown locks with a frown on her inhuman features. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to end she thought, this wasn’t right. Love always conquered. Aura smiled softly and moved her hand down the princess’s body, changing the gown she wore into something brilliant, a dress of midnight blue, interlaced with the moon’s silver threads so that the young princess looked to now be dressed in starlight.

Aura smiled. “More fitting of a princess,” she whispered. “If you are going to die my sweet swan, then it will be as the princess you are.”

At that moment a rustle of branches was followed by the sounds of heavy breathing and the stumbling sound of someone struggling to walk. A moment later, the prince staggered out of the woods, stopped, grabbed a tree, and used it to help him stay on his feet. Aura could see the young man was barely able to stand, his side covered in blood, his skin so pale that the moon’s light made him look ghost-like. The poor boy was barely standing, held a bloodied hand his side. More blood stained his face from a fall, his nose bleeding, and his pale, bloodless lips were flecked with drops of blood. Even from where she sat with the princess, the fairy could see the feverish fear in his eyes. Aura frowned, but she flowed back from Marianne, leaving the princess exposed on the ground, her natural fairy light bursting bright for a moment then fading as the light and the fairy both vanished, leaving the princess lying on the ground, alone.

*

Bog spun around, nearly toppling over with the force of his turn. A light had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, a light that swiftly vanished leaving him thinking of will-o-wisps from childhood warnings given by his mother; but his attention was quickly drawn to the figure on the ground. Bog’s breath caught. Here she was, his Marianne, the love of his life, lying unmoving, death-like. He took a step in her direction, her unmoving form, his hand stretched out toward her.

“Marianne?” His voice broke.

She didn’t respond. His heart twisted in his chest, felt leaden and heavy. “Marianne…” he said her name like a plea.

Bog walked slowly toward her, stumbled a few steps, but recovered, his vision on one single point--Marianne. Bog continued walking slowly toward her until he collapsed to his knees at her side. A wave of vertigo washed over him as the pain in his side spiked, but he clenched his teeth, took a shallow breath, and focused on his princess.

“Marianne…” His voice was soft, laced with deep, intense pain. He struggled to gently lift her up onto his lap. He didn’t want to cover her in blood, but he couldn’t help it; every touch stained her with his blood.

He swallowed hard staring down upon her beautiful face. He smiled softly, ran his fingers along the side of her face, catching a lock of her short hair.

“You cut your hair,” he whispered.

He reached down to bring her hands up and lay them gently on her chest, then noticed with horror the missing tip of her little finger. Tears began to fall freely from his eyes. “Oh Marianne, what did he do to you…”

He caressed her face tenderly, his tears dropping onto her cheeks like a gentle rain.

“Marianne?” He murmured her name again. “Don’t leave me Marianne…I don’t want to live in his world without you my sweet, tough girl...my princess...my future queen.”

He held her close, cradling her head against his chest, tears continuing to slowly fall down his cheeks. “What have I done to you…” He sobbed pulling her up, burying his face against her. “Forgive me Marianne.”

Once started, Bog couldn’t stop. Sobs wracked his damaged body, the tears falling hard and fast to mix with the blood and sweat. After a few intense moments of heart wrenching sobs, Bog’s face buried against her chest as he held her close in trembling hands, he eased her back down to the ground. Bog carefully joined her on the ground, lying on his side beside her, the pain of his wound secondary to his feeling for Marianne. He rested his head on his arm and reached out with his other arm to wrap around her. He pulled her close to him until their noses were touching. He could feel the barely there light breath of her swallow breathing. Bog smiled as they lay in the dirt and leaves of the forest, both of them slowly dying.

Marianne’s eyes slowly opened. Her voice was barely a whisper; if he had not already been so close to her, the prince would not have heard her as she whispered. “Bog?”

Bog’s bloody lips curled into a smile, his heart beating harder, fresh tears appearing in his eyes. “I'm here Marianne.” His voice trembled and he pulled her closer yet.

“Marianne…”

She smiled softly before her brow wrinkled. “I feel so weak Bog.”

“Don’t go Marianne.” Bog leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m so sorry. My vow, my vow of everlasting love...my vow was for you, only you Marianne.”

Marianne’s voice was fading more. “I know Bog...I know.”

She laid her hand against his cheek. “I love you Bog. I’ve loved you all my life.”

Bog’s lips trembled. “I love you Marianne. I’ve always loved you--I always will.”

Bog heard the sound of laughter, heartless, soul-crushing dark laughter that contained no humor in it.

“Oh, now isn’t this sweet, a prince and his princess dying in each others arms. How romantic and tragic.” Rothbart smiled. “Who am I kidding? I think it is glorious.”

Bog pushed himself upright, his legs unsteady, shaky and weak as he pulled the blade at his hip. “I am going to kill you.”

Rothbart laughed. “Why, when I can give you what you want! Your mother is dead, your friends are dead, your young love--all dead. Why prince, I can send you to be with them...I can make you happy.”

Bog trembled his rage, his pain and anger fueling him giving him a last moment of strength as he stood up tall, all signs of weakness disappearing. “You lie.”

Rothbart giggled walking closer. “Why lie prince, the truth is so much better? I’ve killed everyone you love, everyone you care about...all of them are dead.”

Bog snarled. “I will kill you, you foul beast.”

Rothbart chuckled. “Well dear boy, you are welcome to try.”

Bog let out a roar and charged toward the wizard just as the wizard’s entire body morphed, magical light engulfing him. The light was so blinding that it forced Bog to halt his charge; he threw his arm up to shield his eyes.

The transformation only took a few seconds before the monster before him no longer looked human, but had morphed into something terrible.

The creature in front of Bog was huge, larger than any creature he had ever seen, with a monstrous body covered in black fur. Instead of arms and legs, the monster had paws like a great cat, each armed with long, dagger-like claws, but the back feet were the large, wicked claws of a raptor. The head had changed into that of a giant wolf, with a long, unnatural snout full of razor sharp teeth. Its tail was thin and whip-like and from the back of the creature sprouted large black wings that were a mix of dark feathers and stretched, coarse, leathery skin.

The creature flapped its great wings, taking to the air and flying toward the wizard’s tower.

Bog looked back at Marianne, torn between staying with and killing the monster in the vain hope that its death would bring her back to him.

Aura chose that moment to emerge from the darkness of the forest.

Bog took a step forward to protect Marianne from this strange, new threat, but the fey smiled. “Go on Prince...you kill the monster, you will save the girl.”

The fairy knelt by Marianne, and eased her head onto her lap.

Bog stared hard at the fey creature before he declared, “If I don't come back...tell her she was my world and to promise me she will live.”

The fairy nodded. “I will good prince, I will.”

Bog swallowed, his gaze lingering on Marianne before he turned and took off at a run toward his certain death.

*

Roland, sweaty and panicked, with Mari, who was calm and curious, had reached the tower only moments ago. The young man was racing through the place searching for anything they would need, mostly money, trying to pack a few things so that the two of them could flee the kingdom, flee his father...vanish.

Mari stood watching him, held a bag open for him while Roland grabbed things and stuffed them down into the sack while muttering to himself.

“Must be quick! Must be quick!”

Suddenly the entire tower was rocked with an impact. Roland stopped moving, his hands out for balance, his eyes looking upward.

“What the sarding hell was that?” Roland’s voice trembled.

*

Bog raced to his horse; the blessed beast still stood among the trees as if waiting for him. Bog murmured to himself.

“I hope when you get back to the castle you are treated to a bath and the best oats the castle has to give.” He smiled, patted her on her neck and kissed her nose. “If I was going to be there girl, I would make sure of it, but I don’t expect to make it home.” Bog closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the animal’s neck for a moment as if gathering himself before he grabbed her mane and hauled himself onto her back.

Bog gently kicked his heels against the horse’s sides. “Let’s go!”

They raced toward the tower. Bog could hear the roar of the monster, its unnaturally loud cry causing the trees to shake around him. The trees, as if commanded, seemed to move for him, easing their branches back as he raced toward the beast.

Bog saw the monster in the moon’s light. The monster held on to the side of the tall, crumbing tower like a great, bloated tick, roaring when it saw Bog racing toward him.

Bog narrowed his eyes, his lips twitched and his hand tightened around his sword hilt.

The sound was gargled in a mouth not designed for speaking. “You will die prince!!”

Bog narrowed his eyes. “Then you will die with me!”

The monster dived toward Bog. It swooped low, knocking Bog from his horse, it’s needle sharp claws cutting through Bog’s clothing and leaving long, bloody lines along the prince’s back.

The young prince hit the ground hard and rolled, slamming into the crumbled remains of a stone gate that knocked the air from him, the wounds along his back burned and bled.

The monster turned and dived for him, but Bog, who had stumbled to his feet, threw himself out of the way of its wickedly sharp back claws. As he sidestepped the beast’s attack, he lashed out with his sword to land a hit that cut across the monster’s belly. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was a smart enough blow for Rothbart to realize he was not invincible.

*

Marianne’s eyes fluttered. She felt so weak, so drained that she was surprised when she found the strength to open her eyes. She frowned when she found herself looking into the face of the fairy. She thought she had heard Bog...but maybe he had only been a dream...

“Bog?”

Aura smiled. “Your prince, he’s gone to fight the monster.”

Marianne struggled, the dark wizard’s magic slowly draining her life from her, but she fought it as she sat up. “Monster?”

“The wizard, the human sorcerer, he changed himself into a creature, a creature of rage and darkness. Your prince has gone to fight him...gone to save you.” The fairy smiled with a tilt of her head.

Marianne gasped struggling weakly to her feet. “He...but…” She turned to the fairy. “Will he win?”

“Your prince...like he is now...hurt, dying...no. He is going to die.” Aura flowed upright as she smiled at Marianne as if waiting.

Marianne reached out to grab the fairy’s hands. “Tell me, what do you want for your help?”

“I can’t slay the monster for you princess...but I can give you something to help you fight with your prince...though you too are dying. The sorcerer’s spell...the magic, the vow...all have backlashed to kill you both...the sorcerer will win.” Aura frowned in thought, then smiled. “But I can give you a weapon….a weapon to help you. It won’t last long, only five hundred beats of a heart…” Aura knew that was all the time Bog had left...five hundred beats of his heart...his blood that had covered Marianne had told her the length of his remaining life. “You kill the wizard, your life will be saved, the spell will be broken.”

Marianne put her hand out. “Please, what do you want for the weapon?”

The fairy grinned. “If you die, I get not just your spirit, but your prince’s as well. If you survive I want you to dedicate a pint of your blood to my tree on every full moon from now until the end of the year.”

Marianne didn’t hesitate. “Agreed.”

Aura giggled. “Oh, didn’t even think that over, did ya? All right my dear.”

Aura disappeared into the branches of the trees only to reappear a few moments later carrying the long lengths of Marianne’s severed hair in her hands. She smiled as she came to rest in front of Marianne. The weak princess watched as the fairy slid her hand along the hair in a gentle caress, leaving behind a weapon that shimmered with a bronze color. There was no break between the hilt and blade, the three foot sword seemed to grab the light of the moon and hold the light, trapped within the blade.

Aura held the sword out to Marianne. It was light and as she looked closely, she could almost see the strands of her hair that formed the weapon.

“Now go princess, break the magic and save your prince. Oh and before I forget, your prince said he loved you and that you were to keep living. I assume without him, you know...because death.” The fairy smiled cheerily.

Marianne felt a surge of strength, a focus of will. She would not let Bog die to save her. She gave the fairy a smile and turned, dashed into the woods and toward the tower.

Aura’s smile widened as she whispered to herself.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in centuries!”

Chapter Text

As Rothbart turned in the air, his great wings stirred the branches of the trees that circled the tower, his tower. He could see the young prince down below. The insufferable young man had pulled himself to his feet, holding his blasted sword in his hand like he was some sort of sarding hero!

He would tear the boy’s guts out and make Bog watch while he devoured them right in front of him. Rothbart grinned to himself. Yes, tear out his guts, then rip his beating heart from his body and take the body back to the palace where he would display his eviscerated corpse for all to see. Let everyone see what challenging him would lead to! With that happy thought in his mind, Rothbart dived, claws extended.

*

Bog stood, though his knees shook--not from fear, but from pain and blood loss. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid, he realized. He was, but he was afraid of failing Marianne more than he was afraid for himself. He looked up at the monster twisting in the air above him as sweat rolled down from his brow over his temple and down his jaw. He focused on his training and tightened his grip on his sword. He would not back down. He would not fail his princess, even though it would mean his life.

Rothbart dived into the clearing, his wings beat down the trees on the edge and the disrupted air produced tiny whirlwinds of leaves, dust, and other debris that forced Bog to shield his eyes.

Rothbart laughed deep in his chest, the nearly human sound, misplaced in the monster’s mouth.

“You are going to die boy--and I promise to make it painful and slow.”

Rothbart swung his body around and Bog brought his sword up ready to strike and defend himself. Rothbart stepped to the side and his wing caught Bog, flinging the wounded Prince across the clearing and into the side of the tower like a ragdoll.

The shock of the impact with the stone tower knocked Bog’s breath from his lungs in a painful whoosh. The pain radiated through his entire body accompanied by the snap of two of his ribs. He gasped as he fell to the ground. Somehow he kept a hold of his sword as Rothbart lunged at him again with snapping jaws.

Bog stumbled to his feet breathlessly and threw himself forward. He rolled, coming up on his feet and turned just as he painfully sucked in a breath of air. With both hands on the hilt of his sword and his booted feet sliding as he swung, his sword cut into the monster’s hind leg. The cut wasn’t life threatening, but it was deep and it was painful. Rothbart let out a roar of pain and rage. He whipped his monstrous around to face Bog, his eyes flashing red.

“I am going to kill you!” Rothbart roared.

The monster dropped to the ground and rushed at Bog, surprisingly quick on four legs. The monster lunged again his jaws snapping at Bog. Bog rushed forward to meet the monster only to leap upward at the last second, the fangs missing him by inches. Bog’s booted foot hit Rothbart on the snout, but the wizard’s beastly head snapped upward to launch Bog into the air.

For a moment, Bog felt suspended in the air. His arms pinwheeled as he was tossed; too high, he thought. The thought that he clearly had no idea what he was doing ran through Bog’s head as he fell forward then to land on the monster’s back, once more having the air knocked out of him. Bog struggled to keep a grip on his sword while holding onto the monster at the same time. This close to the vile wizard, Bog could smell a foul combination of sulfur and a heavy order of animal mixed with human. It was a strange scent, half wet dog and body odor, that made Bog wretch as he struggled to hold onto the monster.

Rothbart felt the weight of the prince slam onto his back as he twisted and turned. He snapped his fanged jaws at the man as he tried to catch a limb and pull the annoying prince off his back.

Bog gripped the monster with his legs as he rose up, ignored the snapping jaws as he let go of the beast with his free arm to grab his sword with both hands. He raised the blade up and plunged it down with his remaining strength. The blade stabbed deeply into the monster’s back.

Rothbart screamed.

*

Marianne burst through the trees, her bare feet cut and bleeding, but she barely noticed the pain, her focus on following the sounds of battle. She stepped out into the clearing, the full silver moon shining down on the scene before her just as Rothbart reached once more behind him. This time, the monster was able to sink his teeth into Bog’s shoulder. Bog struggled to hold on, his grip on his sword so tight that his knuckles were white, but the monster proved far stronger and ripped the young man off his back, taking the sword with him. Marianne watched helplessly as her prince’s body was tossed across the clearing to slam into some trees. She screamed in horror and anger and disbelief as his body fell to the ground like a broken doll.

“No!!” Marianne turned on the monster whose head snapped around at the sound of her scream.

She saw the creature’s eyes widen in recognition, then focused hatefully on her. She pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowed as she gripped the sword.

Marianne murmured softly to herself.

“I call the light of the moon’s silver rays

I seek protection thus,

I pray for spirits of the forest at my side

fairies, sages, spirit guides or creatures of the forest

Those who walk with cunning skill

Come to my aid!

Come at my will!”

It was an old prayer, one she had heard her mother speak many times, a prayer she had learned as a child and now, she hoped it would give her strength to save the man she loved even as the magic from this evil man tried to take her life from her.

Marianne charged.

Rothbart laughed and the gargled unnatural sound sent a shiver down Marianne’s spine, but let out a grunt as she swung her weapon. She had a little skill with the blade, mostly from her playful, and not so playful lessons from Bog who taught her the proper way to hold her blade, to use her strength and dexterity to her advantage, and to watch her opponent. She was no knight, but she was a very angry princess.

Her blade was light, easy to utilize, more an extension of herself than a foreign object. The tip cut across Rothbart’s chest, leaving a thin bloody line through the fur and flesh of his body. The monster snarled in anger, one paw lashing out knocking Marianne and her blade to the ground. Marianne rolled while yanking the blade out from under the paw of the monster and rose to her feet as he snapped at her, jaws catching air. The princess slashed with the blade, caught the creature once more, this time in the shoulder, but Rothbart backhanded her with one huge paw. Marianne tumbled backwards, the taste of blood flooding her mouth as pain lanced across her face.

*

Inside the tower, with a large sack over one shoulder, Roland grabbed Mari’s hand as the very walls shook. They had made it from the second floor to the first and were standing in the main room when they heard the unearthly roar outside. Roland felt a chill; he knew that sound. Roland, still holding onto Mari’s hand, ran to the entrance of the tower and stuck his head outside. He had seen the monster as it twisted and snapped at the prince. It was the beast, the one his father had transformed into that day they took Princess Marianne, but this version of the beast was larger, more frightening. There was something more unnatural about it than before, or maybe Roland thought to himself, he was truly seeing his father for the first time. Roland felt a cold feeling crawl over him as he stood in the doorway, staring at his father as he fought with Bog.

It was at that moment that Roland truly realized how evil his father was and had always been. Roland stood there, fixed to the spot watching the fight between his father and the prince when Princess Marianne appeared. He caught sight of her as she stopped at the edge of the woods. She looked so different now. Her hair was short, she was carrying a sword...the look of determination on her face was so unlike the woman whose hand Roland currently held that they couldn’t possibly be the same. But seeing Princess Marianne had finally prodded Roland back into action. He squeezed Mari’s hand and ducked back into the tower.

They had two options as Roland saw it: try to make a run for it and hope that his father didn’t see them (or if he did, Roland could hope that Rothbart didn’t decide to simply take his son and the homunculus out together)...or take their chances with hiding in the tower.

Roland stood still with indecision when Mari cupped his cheek and turned his face to hers. Roland turned to look at her. He could see the subtle changes that had occurred in her appearance over the last few days. She was no longer a copy of the princess now, but something else. No, Roland corrected himself, she was someone else. She smiled and leaned close, pressing her lips to his. Roland squeezed his eyes shut, a small tear forming at the corner of his eye. She pulled back, her smile still there, her eyes light and trusting.

Roland stared at her and whispered. “I won’t let anyone hurt you Mari. Ever. I promise.” He looked back at the doorway, then at her. “Okay...we can do this Mari. Just…”

He took a deep breath. “Just follow me.”

Roland kept a firm hold on her hand as the two of them hurried back inside. Roland didn’t want to go into the basement, but it might be the safest place for them as he kicked back the worn rug to reach down and pull the hatch open.

*

Marianne gave out another cry as she swung her sword, using her entire body as she threw herself down to slide across the ground, ripping up her dress and knees, but her blade nearly cut completely through the monster’s leg.

Rothbart screamed in surprised agony, stumbling to the side as one of his fore limbs suddenly gave out. He let out another cry of anger and whipped his wing around to knock Marianne backwards. She hit the ground and glided across the dirt, rock and grass. She could feel the burn against her skin, but she pushed herself up, rolling as Rothbart tried again to smash her with the weight of his wing. She rolled to her hands and knees and scrambled to her feet, running toward the tower.

She didn't know what she was doing. It was as if holding the sword in her hand was guiding Marianne, focused her thoughts on the fight, on Bog, on putting down this foul man who had tried to take everything from her. Once she was close enough, she slammed a foot on the tower and used it to flip herself up and over just as Rothbart lunged, snapping his jaws at her, but only succeeding in crashing his snort against his own tower.

Marianne, sweaty and bloody, landed on her feet, but she stumbled to the side and fell on her knees. She cried out at the pain that radiated up from her knees, but she lurched to her feet before Rothbart turned to slash at her. She had almost made outside of his reach when Rothbart swung around and one of his raptor clawed back feet snapped out. The claws ripped along Marianne’s hip as she tried to get out of the way. His attack sent her stumbling again, but this time when she fell, she landed hard on the ground. When she pushed herself up on her elbows she realized she had fallen next to Bog.

Bog was lying on his side, his face pale, all color gone. He looked almost like a marble statue lying so still. She couldn’t be sure if he was breathing. His hair was dark against his brow, his lips discolored with the dark stains of drying blood. Blood, too bright against his pale skin, dripped from his nose, but he didn’t move; nothing gave any indication that Bog lived. Marianne’s heart twisted in her chest.

Marianne’s voice cracked. “Bog!”

He didn’t move, didn’t respond in any way. She wanted to touch him, to see if he was breathing, to see if he yet lived, but Rothbart was coming and if Bog lived, the evil wizard would be happy to make sure that Bog was most definitely dead.

The wounded princess forced herself to her feet and turned away from the man she loved. She had to lead the monster away from Bog. She put on a burst of speed, running away from Bog’s body and leading Rothbart away...back toward the lake.

The beast roared. Marianne could hear it's loud, stumbling pursuit behind her. She held onto the blade and ran with what little strength she had remaining, her thoughts only on leading the monster away from Bog. She ran, her lungs burning, her breath coming in short pained gasps. The moon’s light guided her, allowing her to avoid the worse of the landscape, rocks too big to jump over, a fallen tree, or a small hole that might twist her ankle, until she saw the light dancing across the lake. She wasn't sure what she was going to do when she got there, but she would figure it out, as long as Bog was safe.

She was nearly to the water’s edge when she felt a hot wind at her back. She risked a glance over her shoulder and screamed.

Even with a nearly severed leg, the monstrous Rothbart was close enough she could feel the exhale of putrid air from his lungs.

Rothbart’s lips pulled back from his fangs in a grin at her and lunged. Marianne spun, turning her entire body around and thrusting the sword out at the same time in the blind hope that...

She didn't know how she was going to kill him, what she could do without magic. All Marianne knew was that she was deeply in love with Bog and she would do anything to save him.

Her sword thrust out and she stumbled backward as Rothbart, his mouth wide, impaled himself on her blade.

For a moment, time stopped. It was perfectly quiet. Marianne stared into the hateful eyes of the monster, but in the blink of her eye, she was looking into the shocked face of Rothbart.

His hands were wrapped around the sword’s blade as he stared at her. Even as he was dying, Marianne felt the moment the spell she was under break; it wasn’t loud or spectacular like she thought such things might be, but rather, it was quiet, like the popping of a bubble, thin, transparent...and gone. Even as Marianne felt the spell break, she could see that Rothbart was dying, the light going fading from his eyes. He stepped closer to her, the sharp blade sliding further into his body, its point already protruding from his back.

“You little bitch.”

Marianne smiled. Her lips bled from a cut along her bottom lip, the blood smeared across her chin and teeth. As she leaned forward, her weight forced the blade to penetrate into the wizard’s torso until the crosspiece stopped against his chest.

“Love wins,” she hissed.

Rothbart made a sound that Marianne knew would haunt her, a gasping, gurgle, his eyes wide as he stared at her until the last breath left him like a whisper. The evil man was dead.

Marianne yanked the sword out of the dead wizard’s body as she took a step back. The moon’s light caught the drops of blood as they were flung into the air and held suspended for a moment, ruby red blood against the moon's pale light. Rothbart crumbled at her feet.

Marianne stood over him as she held the blade. Her entire body trembled as the pool of blood grew around him. Her grip on the sword was tight enough that her fingers ached and the tremble in her arm increased. The stress and physical demands of the battle, mixed with her fear, the knowledge she had taken a life, yet a life taken not in revenge, but in defense of those she loved. Everything was beginning to crash down on her.

Before she could give in to the feelings, Marianne had turned from the body, ready to go and find Bog again when the sword in her hand began to glow. It was a soft glow, more a shimmer. As Marianne looked down at the blade in her hand, covered in the blood of her enemy, the weapon began to unravel itself; the long locks of hair began to come free and drift away from her only to vanish in the moon’s silver light like mist. She held her hand up watching in wonderment as the blade reverted to her hair. The hair glowed and twisted around her arm. The locks moved with a life of their own, caressing her arm like serpents, saying goodbye to the one they were part of before they vanished in the moonlight until there was nothing left, a if the blade had never been. Marianne gazed at her fingers where one strand of her hair was tangled around her fingers. She stared down at the lone strand around her fingers before the moonlight washed over it and the hair faded away.

She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Marianne stared at her hand for another second before her weary head snapped up; she didn’t have time to contemplate the magic… Bog.

She rushed through the trees back to the clearing around the tower. She searched the area quickly until she saw the place where he had been lying. She rushed over when she saw the tall, thin shadow, still lying in the same position, unchanged.

Marianne dropped to her knees, ignoring the pain to grab for her prince. “Bog?”

She struggled, weakened from the fight, and every movement became a struggle. She worked to move him until she had pulled his head onto her lap. She brushed her fingertips over his pale face with no response.

“Bog? It’s me Marianne.” Her voice was laced with pain as she caressed his sharp features. She looked down at the knife wound in his side; there was so much blood that his tunic looked almost black around the wound. Her blood ran cold in her veins. That wound, the way Rothbart had thrown him, each could have easily killed him...she pressed her lips together as tears gathered in her eyes.

Marianne leaned over him kissing his forehead, his eyelids. He wasn’t breathing, she barely felt any heat from his body...he was too cool, his skin unnatural, clammy.

“Please Bog...please don’t leave me.”

She ran her hands over him, her fingers coming back sticky with blood. “Bog...I love you Bog...I love you so much.”

Marianne’s entire body rocked with pain. She pulled him up, shifted her weight to her hip and eased Bog’s body up with the last of her strength, resting his back against her chest, his cheek to hers, holding him close. Then the princess truly let herself cry.

*

Aura sat among the branches of the trees. She sighed softly. She had hoped the story would have a good ending, but it had seemed doomed to a tragic ending from the start she supposed. She sighed listening to the young princess cry as her prince died slowly in her arms.

“Humans, always so very fragile,” she murmured and faded back into the shadows of the forest.

*

Roland and Mari eased their way outside. The sounds of fighting had stopped. Roland stumbled outside looking around to make sure the coast was clear when he heard the sounds of crying...no, not crying--what he heard were the sounds of deep, soul aching pain.

His better judgment told him to leave it; the crying didn’t concern him. He just needed to go before the royal family found him--or his father decided to look for him--but when he tried to walk in the other direction, Mari wouldn’t budge. Roland turned to look at her to find Mari staring off toward the sound of crying.

Roland opened his mouth to protest, to tell her how they needed to go, how it wasn’t safe for either of them here--especially here--but when Mari turned to gaze at him, her eyes filled with such pain that Roland’s heart broke and he realized he would do anything for her, anything this strange and wonderful creature wanted.

Roland sighed. “Fine, let’s find them.”

*

Marianne looked up when she heard the sound of footsteps to see Roland and her doppelganger standing in the tall grass watching her.

Marianne wiped angrily at her tears. “What do you want? To kill me now?”

Roland frowned, looking at Bog then back to her. “My father?”

Marianne smiled viciously. “He’s dead.”

Roland’s whole body sagged with relief. “Thank the spirits.”

Marianne looked confused, but then her copy was yanking on Roland’s hand trying to pull him toward Bog’s body. Marianne held Bog tighter.

“What is she doing?”

Roland sighed. “I have no idea, but I think she wants me to help.”

“There is nothing you can do. He’s gone.” Marianne caressed Bog’s face, but Roland came close anyway, setting his bag down beside him, and dropped into a crouch. He started to reach out to touch Bog’s throat, but Marianne’s hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you touch him!”

“I’m checking for a pulse!” Roland exclaimed. “He might still be hanging on! If that’s the case--I might have something that will help.”

Marianne stared at him. Her grip, Roland noted, was far stronger than her appearance would have had him believe...or at least it was at this moment.

She slowly eased her hold on him and Roland touched Bog’s throat. It took him several tries, adjusting the position of his fingers slightly, but he found that Bog did have a pulse, weak, very slow, but still there; though not for long. Roland wasn’t an expert on life and death, but it didn’t take an expert to know Bog would be dead soon.

Roland grabbed his bag and started to look through it. When they had been hiding in the basement, Roland had decided to go through several of his father’s potions. He only knew what half of them did, but they might be worth a lot of coin. Roland was well aware of what the blood red potions were, however; they were healing potions that he had watched his father craft. They were not easy to make and Roland knew they were extremely valuable. He had six of them in his pack...now he was about to have five. Roland pulled the lightly glowing red potion out of his bag and held it up for Marianne to see. “This is a healing potion. I can save his life, but I want something in return.”

Marianne narrowed her eyes, but she whispered. “Anything.”

“I want Mari and me to be able to leave the kingdom without pursuit, no prices on our heads, no mention of us. We will vanish and you will never seek revenge on us,”

Roland said quietly, his tone firm.

Marianne stared back and said through stiff lips. “As long as you swear to never set foot in my homeland or Bog’s kingdom again.”

Roland nodded. “Agreed. Hold him still--this is going to be violent.”

Marianne wrapped her arms tightly around Bog, his head balanced against her shoulder. Roland leaned forward and began to pour the thick, red liquid onto Bog’s lips when

Marianne said in a quite, serious tone. “If you lied to me and he dies, I will kill you.”

Roland smiled humorlessly. “I know princess.”

He poured the liquid onto Bog’s lips. For a moment the liquid that Roland claimed was magical just sat there. Marianne started to reach for Bog’s face, but Roland grabbed her hand.

“Wait,” he said.

After a couple of seconds longer, the potion began to glow brighter and to move on its own, reminding Marianne of a slug. The substance pressed pass Bog’s lips and disappeared, but the flow could be seen coming from inside his mouth. Roland stood up, taking a step back.

“Hold on tight,” he warned Marianne.

That was when Bog’s body started to thrash violently. Marianne yelped and grabbed hold of Bog tighter as his body went into a fit of seizures. Roland grabbed up his bag and grabbed Mari’s hand the two of them taking off at a run.

Marianne yelled. “STOP!”

Mari turned around and waved at her, a small smile on her familiar lips. Marianne frowned, but her attention was drawn back to Bog. His body arched, bowing back painfully in her arms.

“Bog...oh Bog!” Marianne held tightly.

Just as suddenly as the seizures had started, they stopped and Bog’s body went limp in her arms. Marianne was trembling. “Bog?”

She shifted him around, his head lying on her breasts as she looked down at him. She stroked his face staring at him. “Bog…”

Marianne’s heart hammered inside her chest. He looked no different for the longest time, too pale...deathly pale but then, just as she was about to lose hope, she saw a hint of color. Marianne stared as the color of his cheeks began to change. Pink flooded his cheeks and seemed to burst, blooming like a rose to spread throughout his features...the color of life.

“Bog!”

His body ached as he sucked in a breath. He collapsed back into her arms, but now, he was breathing, breathing deeply enough she could hear him, breathing normally, and his color had returned. Marianne began to sob.

“Oh Bog...Bog...I love you.”

She kissed him, pressing her lips against his much cooler lips, but she could feel the life in him. She was about ready to pull her mouth away when she felt the pressure of a hand against the back of her head, followed by the caress of a tongue in her mouth. She smiled and kissed him passionately as Bog cradled her head returning her kisses, his mouth moving against hers. Marianne couldn’t hold back the tears that ran down her cheeks as she held Bog tightly and kissed him.

*

Bog stood at the end of the long walkway next to the priest, trying not to fidget. He was dressed in light grey pants, with thigh high boots of a light grey leather. His tunic was white, decorated with silver brocade fabric accents on the front and sleeves. The silver trim design was of stylized swans, flowers and trees. His sword hung at his hip in a silver filigree decorated sheath on a black leather belt and a silver crown that seemed to be carved of branches sat on his brow.

He glanced down the aisle while soft lute music played as he looked over the crowd. The small space, was filled to overflowing not just with flowers of white, white and silver ribbons and dancing candlelight, but with people. From where Bog stood, he could see Thang and Stuff sitting in the front row of pews. They were both healing still, but would soon be back as his guards. He grinned at the two of them. Stuff had her arm possessively around Thang’s shoulders and the much shorter man looked extremely happy.

His mother sat on a small, portable version of her throne, dressed in a long elegant gown of silver, her red hair woven through a silver crown. She grinned at her son, then put her hand on her stomach and sat up straight. Bog chuckled and stood up straighter.

Next to his mother sat his soon to be father-in-law. Dagda was all grins, almost giddy with happiness as he sat between Griselda and his youngest daughter dressed in his finest surcoat of emerald green, his own heavy crown on his head.

Next to Dagda sat Dawn, radiant in a drop shoulder dress of lemon yellow. He grinned at his soon-to-be sister, her long blonde hair gone, cut short like her sister’s, a tiny gold crown on her head. She waved grinning brightly. Next to her, softly playing the lute, sat the young man, whom both Dawn and Marianne has assured him had been a frog and a minstrel. The young man was much shorter than the little princess, with dark skin, large friendly brown eyes and a wild mop of brown hair that refused to be tamed. He was dressed in a white tunic with a surcoat of dark, midnight blue, embroidered in gold, and black boots.

The young man, who claimed his name was Sunny, played beautifully, and while Bog was unsure of the frog part of the story (though at this point he was willing to believe anything) the young man played like an angel.

Bog rolled the ring he held in his hand trying not to fidget, but he couldn't help it. He was excited, scared, nervous, happy...so many emotions he couldn’t name them all.

He was trying his best not to chew on his bottom lip, or shift his feet, or run his fingers through his hair when Sunny’s playing changed.

The priest said softly. “Ah, there she is.”

Bog, who had been staring at the toes of his boots for a moment, looked up just as Marianne stepped through the doorway.

She was dressed all in white. The dress had a snug bodice, enhanced her bosom and was decorated in silver to match Bog’s tunic. The sleeves of the dress were dropped low on her shoulders, into full bell sleeves, her exposed shoulders emphasized her delicate neck and the soft smoothness of her shoulders. From the end of the bodice, the dress flared out into a full skirt, the front of which continued the delicate silver pattern.

She didn’t wear a crown, though her short brown hair was decorated with a few delicate white blooms of baby breaths. She held a bouquet of white peonies and primroses. Marianne’s smile bloomed across her face as her brown eyes met Bog’s blue ones across the room. Bog stood tall as his heart hammered hard inside his chest. Never in his life had he seen anything more beautiful than Marianne. As she walked toward him Bog felt his nervousness melt away, replaced by a calm happiness.

She walked slowly down the aisle toward Bog. Her heart beat with such happiness she was surprised her body could contain it!

Marianne glanced at all the people she loved filling this small space, all here to watch her marry not just her childhood friend, but the love of her life. When she reached the altar, Bog extended his hand for her. She took his hand, taking the step up to stand next to her husband-to-be.

Bog grinned hard enough that all his crooked teeth were showing. Marianne giggled and smiled just as widely at him.

“You look so beautiful Marianne.”

She giggled softly. “You look so handsome.”

Bog squeezed her hand as the priest leaned forward. “Why don’t we get this part over with so the two of you can run off for some alone time?”

Bog and Marianne both blushed and giggled as the priest, a wide smile on his face, began in a booming voice.

“Blessings and merry meet. Gentle lords and ladies, their bans having been published, we are here today to join the fair Princess Marianne and the noble Prince Bog together…

*

It was very late, though the party inside the castle seemed to be going strong still. Music, light and laughter could be heard outside in the gardens where Bog and Marianne had escaped together for some time alone.

Bog pulled Marianne into his arms and kissed her, dipping her back slightly. His mouth moved softly over hers, their tongue danced their own slow dance.

Bog pulled away from her mouth, laying his forehead against hers.

Marianne closed her eyes and smiled before she opened her eyes to look into his blue ones. “Will you love me forever Bog, until the day I die.”

Bog chuckled kissing the tip of her nose. “Oh no, much, much longer than that, in this life and into the next. I will always love you. Much longer than forever Marianne...so much longer.”

She giggled as he lifted her up wrapping his arms under her rear and danced around with her for a few moments and yelled at the top of his lungs.

“I LOVE YOU!!”

Marianne looked down at her husband, stroking his hair back from his face smiling even as tears formed in her eyes.

“I love you.”

Bog slowly lowered her back to her feet, her body sliding along his. He cupped her face between both his hands staring down at her. She gazed back.

“I love you Marianne,” Bog whispered.

“I love you too Bog,” Marianne murmured.

He pulled closer to kiss her, a kiss filled with a love that would last forever.