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Elody wasn’t a Queen.
That was a title frustratingly out of reach, despite the fact that she absolutely was the one running the kingdom. It was her war plans that brought them victory. It was her rationing that kept their meagre people fed on meagre scraps. (It was her that made the decision to evacuate the kingdom and send the children away. It was her idea for Gerard to go with them)
Elody was monarch in everything but title.
And so, Elody was a Princess.
And didn’t that turn out to be a blessing in disguise?
Elody was a Princess. And that meant she had to follow rules.
Princesses were quiet. Princesses were kind. Princesses knew not to get pondweed and grass stains on their lovely dresses.
Princesses said please, Princesses said thank you, Princesses didn’t talk back or they went to bed hungry.
And - above all - Princesses did not fall in love with frogs.
(Alright, maybe that was just her.)
Elody woke up.
The tent around her was familiar in the way your reflection in a cracked mirror was familiar. Even the people outside in the war camp were familiar, if on a tilt.
It had worked. It worked!
Something heavy settled in Elody’s stomach as she threw herself into the strategy meeting. Cinderella was still a day or so out, she knew, and they were still trying to manage their retreat while they waited for word on a meeting site.
Elody took a steadying breath. Her plate was weighing heavy on her, she could feel it like an albatross desperately trying to pull her down to her early grave. She could feel the shackles of grief every moment her eyes opened and she expected to see a familiar face standing next to her. The sharp, stabbing jolt when she awoke alone in a bed meant for two constantly threatened to overwhelm her.
She didn’t have time to grieve. That had to come later - there was too much danger to lose herself to the ever-hungry, gnawing pit of guilt and regret she felt bubbling inside her.
Elody had plans to make.
If you asked, she couldn’t tell you why she barely talked about her husband to the other Princesses.
Maybe Elody thought he had died whilst evacuating the children and couldn’t ever voice that fear so she kept his memory buried securely in the centre of her ribcage (somewhere under the lilypad emblem she’d designed during a quiet, candle-lit night listening to her lover snore softly)
Maybe Elody feared the fairies had taken him and didn’t want anyone to think he was on their side (he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, that wasn’t her Gerard).
Either way, it didn’t matter.
Gerard was gone, and Elody had work to do.
They were 7 now, and it felt like the work was endless.
Elody was alone in the war tent with the large map they had spread out on a haphazard mix of whatever tables they could scavenge and spare. They had been using old toys as troop markers, passive-aggressively using the most broken and the most defaced for the Kings and the Fairies.
It had been days since she’d arrived and Elody kept studying the map. She kept reading and re-reading every scrap of information and correspondence they’d received, searching for every last fragment to translate into movements on the board.
This was where her talents lay. Elody was intelligent, and precise, and willing to take calculated risks if she had to. She was good at this. If she was cursed to be raised a Princess, then she may as well try her hand at being a General.
There had been a commotion outside a few moments ago but Elody paid it no mind. There was no shouting, so it wasn’t an attack. There had been noise, so not an ambush, and the background humming of soldiers were still there, so not an assassination.
Whatever it was, it could wait.
Eventually, people began to trickle into the tent with her.
Most were already engaged in their own conversations so they were happy enough to leave her be. Someone gently pressed a warm mug into her hands and Elody barely registered what they’d said, or what she’d responded.
The meeting began and ended swiftly. There wasn’t time for introductions beyond the new Princesses but Elody barely registered it. At some point during the day, she’d picked up one of the tokens from the board and kept idly busying it between her fingers.
When it was her turn to speak, Elody calmly, precisely and gracefully walked everyone through the developments from the last day or so. She only stumbled once when gesturing to where some troops had been spotted and suddenly realised it was toy-less. And that the toy they’d been using to mark those troops was the small, hand-carved frog Elody had been worrying all day.
And so Elody continued talking, and she didn’t relinquish the toy in her hands, and everyone else was too kind to mention it.
When her turn was over Elody didn’t listen. She knew what was being said. Instead, she let her eyes wander over the crowd.
There were mostly familiar faces - people she had travelled with and those who she’d traded letters with for months. A few new ones mingled in (Princess Rosamund and Princess Mira weren’t what she expected, but then again who amongst them was as expected these days).
Elody amused herself by categorising the faces around her as Snow White did her best to catch newcomers up to date.
The little girl practically drowning in her bright red cloak kept surreptitiously looking over at her. She was a slight little girl but the way she stood so protectively in front of her companions was both endearing and a little worrying. She looked too innocent for this war, with her big bright eyes and incisors almost too big for her jaw to house. (Elody idly wondered if the poor girl needed braces before this war threw them into chaos.)
There was another child in the group - a little wooden boy in need of a gentle varnish to scrub away the moss he’d collected - who kept whispering something to the girl to get and keep her attention on something.
They stood behind Princess Rosamund near the other side of the table and Elody knew there were a few more people in their party. She’d heard enough to know that the older gentleman stood beside Princess Rosamund was in charge of a book like Scheherazade. Which meant he was vitally important. Another risk to manage.
Elody’s eyes scanned more of the crowd and she felt the world rip into fragments around her.
The large golden mace (crafted from that precious, precious toy from her long-dead childhood) clattered noisily to the ground. It narrowly avoided falling on a prowling little black cat, who promptly yowled in fright and annoyance, but Elody was already moving.
People suddenly rushed back or rushed towards their weapons, thinking the worst or fearing an attack.
She ran towards the newcomers, who parted to clear her path.
Except for one, who saw her a moment too late.
Elody threw her arms are the thick, slightly clammy neck of a man she never thought she’d see again.
His arms closed around her and he effortlessly (since when was his strength effortless? ) lifted her in a tight spin so they didn’t crash to the ground. As odd as it was, he still smelled of the flowers by their pond and for just a brief moment, Elody let herself drown in it.
In another world entirely, someone cleared her throat and it was Gerard who loosened his grip first. He tried to step back but Elody didn’t let him go far, catching the hand that ran down her side and clutching him, terrified that if she let go for even a second, he would disappear in front of her very eyes.
“Elody?” That was Snow White’s voice, cold and expectant.
“Do you know him?” Cinderella asked. She was wearing her armour too, but she had kept her weapon in her hand and one eye on the door this whole meeting.
“Hi,” Gerard said awkwardly, seeming almost to shrink into himself under the weighted gaze of everyone else.
“This is Gerard of Greenleigh. My husband,” Elody said, finally looking back to the quorum. Her tone doing its best to silence any coming opposition. She squeezed Gerard’s hand, and a heartbeat later he squeezed it back.
Their shock was palpable but Cinderella recovered first.
“It’s nice to meet you, Prince Gerard,” she said diplomatically, “Sorry for the surprise, but Elody never mentioned she was married.”
“I didn’t know who I could trust with that information,” Elody said bluntly, as cold as Snow White. Her grip was strangling Gerard’s wide, webbed hands, but he matched it best he could. She felt like she was shaking.
“We’ve been at this for a while,” Princess Rosamund piped up, temporarily drawing the attention onto her, “Maybe we should take a break for a while and reconvene?”
“I like that plan,” Princess Mira quickly scribbled on a spare piece of parchment, holding it up and showing it to the people around her.
“Alright, let’s take a break, we should check on the camp and make sure the sentries are set up,” Cinderella said, the dismissal clear.
People began to stream out faster, throwing more than a few curious looks in her direction. But Elody didn’t care.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The last person left (that young girl had to be shepherded out by her friends, who made no illusion of the fact they were going to be eavesdropping) and Elody pulled him into a tight embrace again.
This time they let themselves linger for longer and Elody let herself melt into her husband’s shoulder. She could feel him adjust his grip to avoid touching her directly, cringing when her cheek brushed his, and for a sickening moment worried he found her repulsive now.
She was a Princess, his wife, she shouldn’t be leading armies. That wasn’t good Princess behaviour.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard whispered, finally. His voice had the slightest croak to it that might have been frog and might have been tears.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Gerry,” Elody promised.
“I do though,” Gerard said, straightening up but not pulling away, “I left you,”
“Gerard, I thought you’d died!” Elody’s voice cracked on the word and that heavy weight suspended in her chest finally crashed to the floor, “I sent you away with the children and then you never showed at any rendezvous point, and- and then there were rumours about a fairy and-”
She had to choke off her words before they undid her. She could feel tears begin to spill down her cheeks and down her neck against her will. Gently - like he was afraid to touch her at all - Gerard wiped them away, holding her face in his inhuman hands.
“I- I’m sorry, Ellie. I kinda did die,” Gerard said, gently wading into the bad news with her, “And then I came back, and things were worse and I didn’t know how to find you, or if you even wanted me to find you. I’m sorry I didn’t look for you. But honestly, a lot of fucked up things have happened and I’m kinda glad you weren’t around to see that.”
Elody cut his ramble a little short with a watery hiccup of a laugh.
“I can’t believe you said a full swear,” she teased, watching the slightest amount of tension leave his shoulders, “I’m sorry I stopped looking for you,”
“You thought I was dead, it’s okay-”
“It’s not okay, Gerry. I should never have sent you away. I should’ve tried harder-”
“This isn’t your fault, I was too much of a coward to even accept that a war was going on-”
“But I kept pushing you away! I never listened -”
A few shouts sprung up a short ways from the tent and Elody tensed, instinct kicking in as she tried putting herself between Gerard and the ‘door’. She realised after a heartbeat that what she did was foolish - her weapon was still lying on the floor on the other side of the tent - and she let the adrenaline begin to fall once no threat appeared. Elody had the apology halfway to her lips when the rest of her perception kicked in.
Gerard was standing just behind and beside her, his eyes also focused on the door. He had a sword in one hand and the other gripping the back plate of her armour, ready to pull her backwards to take her place. Slowly, afraid of breaking whatever this moment was, Elody turned in place to face Gerard again.
“I see you’ve been studying sword forms again,” she said, half a joke and half a question.
“I- I’ve picked up a few things on the road,” Gerard admitted, shyly.
Elody reached up to hold Gerard’s froggy face, impulsively pressing a kiss to his temple before he could pull away from her.
“As much as I want to hear about everything that happened ‘on the road’, I think you’re friends outside are getting impatient,” Elody said, glancing at the door just in time to see a little wooden boy duck out of sight.
“We have time,” Gerard said.
Elody hoped, more than anything, that he was right.