As I mentioned in my most recent oneshot, I listen to lots of Taylor Swift music. And I've noticed that tons of her older songs all work for Poppy and Branch. This is going to be a collection of ideas I've gotten from her songs. The first is the song "Enchanted," which obviously I do not own. Also: this takes place five years before the movie. The Trolls Wikia page says Branch is 24 and Poppy is 21, so that's what I'm going with. Maybe I shouldn't trust it, but how else am I gonna come close to being in canon? Anyway, enjoy! Please read and review, but no flames!

Nineteen-year-old Branch looked at the invitation again and groaned. He'd been hoping to somehow see it differently this time than all the other times, but nope. It remained the same, even the part he hated the most: the part that read, scrawled in King Peppy's handwriting, All Trolls must come to the princess' sixteenth birthday party. King's orders. No exceptions.

Even if it didn't specifically mention his name, Branch knew the message was aimed at him. No other Troll would even consider not going to a party, ever, and King Peppy knew that Branch would only listen to orders from the current monarch if not to himself. He was very self-sufficient that way, but he wasn't disrespectful. He wasn't so much of a rebel that he'd deliberately disobey the king.

Maybe the worst part was that he didn't even know the princess—at least not personally. He'd heard she was a party Troll and led most of the loud songs and dances around Troll Village, which meant she was recklessly putting her people in danger, but he'd never cared enough to actually cross paths with her. Which he now regretted, since everyone else at the party would know her and be her best friend, considering Troll culture.

With a sigh, Branch turned back to the mirror. He wore a purple button-up vest instead of his usual leafy one, which hung open for convenience in crafting it, but at least this deep, rich purple was still patterned as though it was made from leaves. His shorts were a silvery-black instead of brown with green patches, but otherwise, they were the same. He didn't get any fancier than that.

The only good thing about this party was that it would be more formal than most of the Trolls' parties, so it wouldn't have any bright lights or loud noises that would attract Bergens.

That didn't make him dread it any less.

With one final look in the mirror and sigh, he tucked the invitation into his vest and set out for the ballroom pod. Surprisingly, King Peppy had made the card instead of his daughter, and Branch wondered why the heck he didn't bristle at the thought of handing it over to get into the party. Princess Poppy had started leaving party invitations at his bunker door a long time ago, and even though he always waited until after she left to claim them (didn't care to meet her with her reputation as loud party Troll), he always kept them. At first, he wasn't sure what it was that made him unable to bring himself to throw them away, but he'd soon realized that it was just so touching that she was kind enough to continue to invite him to her parties even when he didn't come. He hadn't had that kind of kindness aimed at him since . . . since . . . well, the incident.

But the king had shown him the same kindness in making this invitation, and he was more than fine with giving it away. It baffled him, to be honest.

Soon the big, multi-colored ballroom pod came into view, and he took a deep breath before flinging himself up to the branch it rested on, handing over the invitation, and walking in.

As he'd thought, it was already filled with Trolls, all in extravagant party clothing. This was already torture for him, and that was before he got himself a glass of water and a pair of twins, conjoined by the ends of their hair, came over to him.

"Oh. My gosh," said the twin on Branch's left, who was pink with a blue nose, lips, and eyes. She wore a long, sparkly strapless dress.

"Is that really Branch?" said the twin on Branch's right, who was the opposite of her sister in appearance—light blue with a pink nose, lips, and eyes.

"Um, yeah," Branch said, already hating all the attention. He nervously swished around the water in his cup. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, not personally," said the pink twin.

"But most everyone's heard of you," enthused the blue twin.

"Not many Trolls talk about you—" started the pink one.

"Except Poppy!" finished the blue one excitedly.

"Yeah, Poppy's been talking nonstop about you for days."

"She's so excited that you're finally coming to a party of hers!"

"She's the one who made her dad put that 'king's orders' thing on the invitation!"

"You stay right here—we'll go get her!" With that, both twins rushed off to find the princess.

Branch stared after them. Were they kidding? Poppy had made him come, not her dad? This was another come-to-my-party scheme of hers? He was going through all of this because of her? This was ridiculous! And he couldn't even leave till it was over, even though he knew what was going on!

He took a sip of his water, because what else could he do? He was stuck in this torture for the rest of the night. If he was back in his bunker by now, imagine what he could be doing! He could be graffiti-ing another dark message on his walls, to remind himself of how important it was that they were protected from the Bergens. In fact, he would do that as soon as he was back—he would need a reminder after a night of being surrounded by these crazy party Trolls—

His thoughts stopped in their tracks when he saw the pink silhouette across the room, heading toward him.

Her red dress billowed out around her in graceful ruffles that he might've considered silly dress-up on any other Troll in the room, but on her it looked angelic. Her hair was tied up in a pretty ponytail that began to fall over itself at the very top. That meant she had long hair, certainly longer than his. Her headband emphasized her hairline, right where her bangs fell to the sides of her face, which were dotted with freckles made of glitter. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a sweet, yet spunky and slightly sassy, smile.

She drew closer and he noticed that his heart beat faster with every step she took. It wasn't anxiety, he thought, mentally running through everything that could cause a heart to do that, and it probably wasn't a heart condition, considering how healthy he kept himself. Did he have a cold? No, it was the middle of the summer, not at all flu season. And he got enough sleep, didn't he? He didn't consume all that much caffeine or sugar, so it probably wasn't that either. That left . . . no, it wasn't a crush. Crush symptoms were more than a racing heart, like sweaty palms and blushing, neither of which was happening to him.

"Oh, cupcakes!" Princess Poppy swore in amazement, grinning at him. "Branch! I can't believe you're really here! I've heard all about you, but I can't believe I've never really met you!" She laughed, the prettiest laugh Branch had ever heard. "I mean, I've met everyone else in Troll Village, but not you? What kind of a Troll princess am I?" Then the princess gave him a big hug.

He didn't return it—he never returned hugs, because a) they were a silly waste of time, and b) in Troll Village, hugs were meaningless. You could hug your worst enemy and your best friend at the same time, and it would mean nothing because Trolls hugged all the time.

Poppy pulled back a moment later, not looking at all discouraged by his not returning the hug. "So you're pretty much a loner, right? You spend all your time in that bunker of yours, and you never come to my parties! Not that it's a bad thing—I just want to know you better."

Branch raised an eyebrow, an emotion he hadn't felt in a while stirring inside of him. Amusement. "Well, you might have a hard time with that, little princess. As you said, I'm a loner."

"That doesn't mean you can't confide in anyone, does it?" Her words might have sounded naive or immature or both, but they were accompanied by a small smirk in his direction that he didn't miss.

"Oh, didn't you know? 'Loner' and 'secluded' go hand in hand. But since you don't have any experience in that area . . ." He shrugged, sending a provocative look of almost-pity in her direction.

She raised an eyebrow, too. "I don't, do I? But you know what? Here's a secret." Her voice dropped to a whisper and her pink lips leaned in to graze his ear. "I almost . . . don't want to." When she pulled back, her smirk had only grown, waiting for his response.

His smirk matched hers as he replied, "Princess thinks she's so smart, does she?" This was maybe the most childish conversation he'd ever had with anybody, both of their comebacks remarkably lame . . . but somehow, it was still tons of fun.

Poppy opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by her DJ friend's voice over the loudspeakers. "Time for our slow song of the night, folks! Pair up and feel! The! Love!"

Poppy's grin lit up her features. "Oh, hey, Branch, dance with me!"

He dropped his self-satisfied expression and shook his head. "No."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!"

He crossed his arms and shook his head again. "No."

"Why not?"

"I don't dance."

"You also don't party, and here we are!"

"That's different." Branch waved her off. "I had to. 'King's orders,' remember? Though according to your twin friends, it's more like 'princess' orders.'"

She ignored his last sentence. Instead, she batted her eyelashes, stuck out her lips in a perfect princess pout, and looked off to the side. Lifting a hand to the side of her mouth, she singsonged, "Oh, Daddy!"

Branch rolled his eyes. "Does your precious Daddy gives you everything?" he said in a baby voice.

She shrugged delicately. Still using a spoiled princess tone, she said, "No. Only a pet cuddlepup, five hundred new dresses every week, a big bedroom, lots of shoes, and hairstyles and crowns for every occasion."

"Right. Almost nothing at all."

"Oh, and I forgot. He also makes secluded loner Trolls dance with me."

Branch hesitated, considering. He didn't want to have to face King Peppy if not dancing would actually make the princess upset. "What kind of dancing?" he asked cautiously.

Princess Poppy glanced back at the other Trolls, who were still pairing up. "The waltz, I think."

Branch hesitated. For some reason, he knew the waltz, and this might be the only time in his life he could put those skills to good use. Besides, for whatever reason, he didn't want to make Poppy upset.

After a moment of mulling it over, he relented. "Okay, fine. One dance and that's all."

She lit up again. "Yay! Thank you, Branch!" After giving him a quick hug, she grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor, which was starting to fill up with other couples.

Branch blushed at the sudden thought. Couple? No no no. Him and Poppy weren't a couple. He'd just met her tonight, for goodness' sake! And—oh, gosh. The waltz was a couple dance. Why had he agreed to couple dance with this girl he'd just met only minutes ago? He'd only just made the decision, but it seemed a million years away.

He realized at that moment how silly it was to be arguing with yourself about something as petty as a thought, and forced the blush off his face. It didn't matter anyway; just like the hugs in Troll Village, this dance was meaningless.

They took their position, arms around each other's shoulders and upper back. The music started, and Branch glided across the room with her for a few wonderful minutes. Then the dance ended, and they parted.

"Ooh, that was fun!" Poppy said, clapping her hands cheerfully. "I should waltz more often!"

"Well, I'm done dancing for the night," Branch said, making his way back to the snack table, just to be out of the dancers' way. Surprisingly, instead of finding someone else to dance with, Princess Poppy followed him. "You know, uh, just 'cause I'm done doesn't mean you have to be," he said, awkwardly glancing at her.

Her cheeks colored slightly. "Oh, yeah, I know. I just already know everyone out there, and not you."

"I guess that makes sense," Branch said, taking another sip of water. The two watched the next dance in comfortable silence for a moment.

Then Poppy broke the silence when she said, "Branch? Who do you love?"

He gave her a funny look. "Well, what do you mean?" He didn't show it on his face, but he really hoped this didn't get too personal for comfort, not with the incident . . .

"Oh, sorry, I guess that was weird wording. I meant, do you have a girlfriend?"

Not about his grandma, then—but still not a normal question, not that he was an expert on social cues. "No, I . . . I told you I'm a loner." He was a little taken aback. "Um, why?"

"No reason," she supplied quickly and smoothly. "Just an icebreaker."

"Alright, then, do you have a boyfriend?"

She blushed. It didn't stand out against her already-pink skin, but Branch noticed it all the same. "No."

"Whatever you say, Princess," he teased, but he believed her when she said no—and it scared him a little, how willing he was to believe that. Especially when he usually trusted no one but himself and King Peppy (but mostly himself).

"Oh, Branch, you're here!"

Speaking of the king . . .

Branch and Poppy turned around to see her father. Poppy smiled and hugged him. "Dad! You're here!"

"Did you really think I'd miss it, my princess?" He smiled down at her, and Branch knew that he was the embodiment of the word "fatherly" in that one moment.

Then the king turned his attention to Branch. "Branch, I'm so glad you came!" he said with a jolly smile. "You know, Poppy begged me to make you come to this party. She promised if I did it now, she'd never ask again."

"So I heard," he said, thinking of the twins. "Poppy's twin friends told me."

The pink princess rolled her eyes good-naturedly, still by her father's side. "Satin and Chenille are such gossips. I love them anyway, of course."

"Well, I'm glad you're here. Are you enjoying the party?" King Peppy asked Branch.

"I wouldn't say 'enjoying,'" Branch replied. But it's not half as bad as I thought. He clamped his lips shut before he could say that. What was wrong with him tonight? It was actually somewhat fun to talk to the princess that he'd never met before in his life—not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, at least not in this lifetime. He was Branch, for goodness' sake! He didn't do "fun."

"Well, I would, and I'm going to!" Princess Poppy said with a grin, then looked at her father. "Dad, Branch is definitely enjoying this party."

"Oh, good. I'm glad," King Peppy said, then yawned. "Well, I'll leave you two to it, then. I've had a long day. Being the king is tiring, you know." He kissed his daughter on her forehead. "Goodnight, my princess."

"'Night, Dad. Sleep well!" Poppy waved to the king as he retreated out the door, back to the royal pod. Then she looked back at Branch. "He's nice, isn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed. "Um, what do we do for the next few hours of the party?"

Princess Poppy laughed. "You really don't understand parties, do you? We're s'posed to just dance, mingle, talk . . ." She trailed off, and he must have been making a face that portrayed how stupid he thought that was, because she laughed again and said, "You know what? I know you didn't want to be here, and the party doesn't end for another three hours, so I'll let you go home now. I've gotten to know you better, which was really my main goal for this party. If you want, you can go back to whatever it is you do in that underground bunker of yours."

"Wait, really?" he asked, surprised that she was letting him leave. She was the one who'd wanted him here, after all. "You'd let me leave?"

She nodded, looking nothing but sincere. "Yeah. O—only if you want to, though! I'm not forcing you to leave!"

"Thank you," he said, genuinely meaning it. He set down his cup of water. "I guess I'll be going, then."

She smiled and nodded. "Promise I'll see you around the village?"

"I don't think I'll be able to avoid you, Princess," he said, giving her a little half-smile.

"Good." Before he even knew what she was doing, she'd leaned in and was giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Branch."

"U—um, yeah. Bye, Poppy," Branch said, turning away before she could notice the bright purple blush that arose on his face. He made a beeline for the door, not giving any other Trolls the chance to notice it, either.

Once on the plush ground of Troll Village, he began to walk back to his bunker. Try as he might, he could not get the blush off of his face or the princess out of his mind.

Even once he got back to his bunker, he could barely remember what he'd wanted to do here. All he could think about was the warmth of her lips on his cheek, even if it had been chaste and short.

Branch didn't even bother to change out of his party clothes before going straight to his stash of her invitations that he'd kept. This was insane, wasn't it? He'd kept her invitations without even knowing the girl who'd sent them, and now that he did know her . . . he'd do it all again.

He got all the invitations out of their little cabinet in the wall, spreading them out across the table. There was the first one he'd received: an invitation to her fourth birthday party. He'd been seven at the time, having only lost his grandmother four years before. He'd dismissed her, but she'd followed him all the way back to his bunker (even now, she was the only Troll who knew where it was, beside him and King Peppy), asking him why he wasn't coming. He'd snapped at her in response, retreating into the secluded depths of his bunker before she could pester him any more.

It wasn't until he was back inside that he noticed—he was still holding her card.

And for some reason, he could never bear to part with it, nor any of the cards that came after.

So technically . . . yeah, he realized, bringing the memory to the front of his mind. He had met the princess before now. He just barely remembered it.

But what he did remember?

He hadn't felt like this at seven years old.

Try as he might, he couldn't lock away this emotion as he'd always done before, with hurt over his grandma. How was he supposed to get rid of it, then?

Branch's eyes landed on an empty notebook.

Writing might help, right?

He crossed the room and grabbed the notebook and a pencil, making room on the table to write without harming any of the invitations. He began to write, almost completely checking out as his pencil flew across the paper, lost in memories of Princess Poppy that fueled the words coming off the tip of the pencil.

It wasn't until a solid fifteen minutes later that those memories finally faded, giving way to the vibrant colors of the cards against the dull colors of his bunker. He'd filled seven pages already, he realized—and with what, he had no idea.

So Branch flipped back to the first page of the notebook and started to read.

They were all poems. He was capable of writing poems? Selfish, gray, emotionless him? Who knew?

And . . . as he looked closer . . . they were all love poems.

Did he love the princess?

His heart beat faster, giving his mind a simple, one-word answer that was full of meaning: Yes.

Yes.

Yes!

And even now, he knew . . .

His life would never return to the way it was before he'd had this epiphany.