Chapter Text
It all began when Stuff and Thang came barreling into the throne room, shouting over each other about something urgent the mushrooms were saying. The Bog King heaved a great, weary sigh as his two aides bounced up and down before him like a couple of sugar-fueled toads. The day had started out like countless others: quiet, still, and painfully dull. Perhaps, as he secretly hoped, they were about to have some excitement around here, but that didn’t mean he would tolerate childishness any more than usual.
“STOP!” He roared in annoyance, thumping his staff against the ground for emphasis.
The bumbling pair immediately clammed up and froze, trembling before their king and his notoriously short temper.
“Now, one at a time.” He growled. “What is it?”
Stuff recovered first, but instead of explaining, she elbowed Thang in the ribs.
“You can tell him.”
“Huh?!” The male blanched. “No, you tell him!”
“He likes you.”
“Really?”
“I’m waiting!” Bog snapped, patience almost dried out.
Thang flinched and cleared his throat.
“The hairy spleen reproaches!”
.
.
.
“What?”
“Okay uh,” Thang gulped, “y-you know how we harvest the spleen of the animals we hunt for extra meat in the winter? Well…sometimes they get hair on them and…um, if you eat ‘em before you clean ‘em……you’ll be sorry…later…?”
An all-too-familiar throb formed right between Bog’s eyes whenever he had to deal with things like this. There was about to be hell to pay. His wings spread and his muscles tensed to take flight.
“I’ll deal with-!”
“No, no, no, you moron!” Stuff scolded her companion before Bog could move. “That wasn’t it! It was ‘the Fairy Queen approaches’!”
“Oh, fer peat’s sake!” Bog spat, rising to his feet. That explanation sounded even more ridiculous than the last.
“No, really, sire!” Stuff pressed. “That was the message! Honest!”
“It’s true, your majesty!” Gus, one of Bog’s soldiers, insisted as he and his lumbering giant of an older brother, Brutus, came into the room with a small group of scouts. “I saw her myself!”
“Me too!” Brutus reaffirmed in his rumbling voice. “And she’s alone!”
Everything grew quiet again as Bog processed the information he’d just received. He felt his face twist with confusion.
Alone?
The Fairy Queen…
…was coming here?
Alone?
Was this a joke?
Was he dreaming?
Bog sat back down and massaged his temple as he tried to make sense of all this. For most of his life, the Fairy Kingdom had meant little more to him than the place that bordered the west-side of his Dark Forest; the side where the blasted Primroses grew. Twenty years ago, he’d outlawed the blossoms and had them cut down every spring. Anyone caught with so much as a petal (goblin, elf, or fairy) was subject to imprisonment and very likely, execution.
If he remembered correctly, the last Fairy King was some portly fool named Daniel.
No, David.
Derek?
Dagda! That’s it! It was Dagda.
Over the years, he heard rumors here and there from the neighboring kingdom: the Fairy Queen giving birth to a daughter, the queen dying giving life to a second daughter, a royal wedding. A new Fairy Queen had to mean that Dagda had passed, but if that was the case, then what happened to the royal wedding? Where was the new Fairy King? Why wasn’t he coming with her? Did he know his queen was marching into enemy territory alone? Did her younger sister or even her subjects know?
Bog had always been taught to think of fairies as wispy, vain and idiotic. The sparse handful he had met in his youth did nothing to change his opinion, but this…
…this was downright insane!
He didn’t know whether to describe this mysterious queen as incredibly spirited, or incredibly stupid. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge what happened to wayward fairies and elves that ventured too far into his domain, but to be fair, that was only if they tried to steal a Primrose or attacked his goblins.
Speaking of which…
“Is she armed?”
“Yes, sire.” Brutus nodded.
Hmm, maybe she wasn’t that stupid after all.
But still, what on earth could she possibly want? It was midsummer; the Primroses were all cut down so his subjects hadn’t been near the border for months. If she had any ideas about negotiating for the preservation of those damn flowers, he’d have her thrown out on her ear.
His free hand left his head to fist tightly over his knee. Had she brought an army, he would’ve ordered them all slaughtered without blinking an eye. But these were special, if not very strange, circumstances. Weapon or no, the fact that she was alone and there had been no report of a scuffle made this…visit…non-hostile. By the crown, he was obligated to let her come to him and speak her piece, whatever it may be about.
Besides, underneath it all, he was shamelessly curious.
“She’s here! She’s here!” A beaky gremlin exclaimed, running into the room and almost making everyone jump.
“What do we do, BK?” Stuff asked, prompting everyone to turn their eyes on him.
“Just…stand back, shut up, an' let me handle this.”
Obediently, the goblins retreated to the far corners of the room to watch the encroaching events unfold. They all seemed to be holding their breath and shaking with energy. After all, technically, history was about to be made.
“Show her in.” Bog commanded the gremlin as he rose again to greet his…guest.
The gremlin took off down the corridor and Bog barely managed to bite back an amused smirk as his imagination depicted a silly, dolled-up blonde fairy lass stomping into the room and fussing over some impractical, fancy gown; all torn apart and soiled by the plentiful thorns and mud holes of his land.
But then how could she be armed?
He didn’t have time to come up with an answer, for suddenly a distinctly fairy form soared around the corner as fast as a hummingbird. The goblins gasped in surprise as there was a rush of air and a glint of purple.
What came flying into the hall and hovered in place before the Bog King, couldn’t have been more different than what he'd imagined.