Title: wrong space wrong time
Fandom: Star Vs. the Forces of Evil
Summary: AU. Toffee's life has been too freakin' weird.
Character(s): Toffee, Eclipsa, Monster Love, Glossayrck, OC's
A/N: Written post-"Just Friends" and after seeing all the episodes before that one; written before season 2 finale. Just starting to go wild with the theories here before the season finale slays me on Monday. Seriously, when I say AU, I really do mean AU. Made up a name and personality for Eclipsa's monster love for purposes of the story being told here. Same for other OC's that will show up.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Star Vs. the Forces of Evil.
i.
Toward the end, sometimes Eclipsa and her love communicated through his intermediary—a magical construct, that could enact his will, speak his voice. It even bore a little of his features—but was largely distorted and fortified (no tail, no snout, too tall, four eyes when there should only be two, the colors were only half right, it had some hair when in reality there was none). It had taken him more time and training to summon this construct than what Eclipsa had done to conjure any of hers from the royal wand; and his still did not equal hers in power. The Mewman queen had respected it, what he could do without a magically superior lineage and royal privilege to fall back on.
Pema had told her more about his intermediary, more than he had shared with anyone else. (And this became one of the things they kept between each other. Both thought it most useful to let others wonder about this apparent third party—even misinterpret.)
And in the end, Eclipsa had left escorted by this intermediary, to meet with Pema one final time, at his clan's temple. To stay.
She would not return to her Mewman king, or their daughter. Not after feeling a familiar weakness and nausea in the morning, and knowing who was not responsible, and who was.
…
As expected, Eclipsa sticks out at the temple. Her formal Mewman dress is modified to the temple's mountain terrain, but not entirely dropped. She will wear sometimes wear a few items more familiar to a monster, gifts from her love—jewelry, scarves, roughly sewn gloves without the fingers. But she is Mewman and Royal and will not forsake her entire heritage. She is literally the only Mewman at the mountain temple (soon to be the only full-blooded Mewman there).
Pema is protective of her, and the baby she carries, and will allow no serious insult or harm. Tension is tolerated though. Tension is to be expected.
…
The elders remember catching Eclipsa spying on them with her all-seeing eye; she had only wanted to see Pema, but still she had witnessed them training Pema and the other youths in old arts, old techniques of seeing, summoning.
Any uproar that caused had died down by now. But the elders still remembered, and many regarded Eclipsa either with irritation, wry amusement, or distaste.
(Distrust.)
…
Though strange—no one at the temple will pretend Pema's love is not strange, just like no one at the Mewman castle could pretend otherwise—Eclipsa is largely respectful, and is an ally at the temple, to the monsters. (They even slowly warm to her.) Eclipsa's union with Pema was not formed only out of affection and unplanned parenthood; in the world both were born into, that would have been largely impossible. Over the course of many years, their goals have long since aligned. Eclipsa is on her love's side, and that is all.
So Eclipsa offers her magic, her skill, all she can to assist her love's kind.
Pema has made his case, and his people came to agree: they needed all the help they could get.
…
For now, Eclipsa has kept the royal wand and the spell book.
Her daughter had not yet been old enough to inherit when Eclipsa had left.
(She has kept the wand and Glossayrck.)
…
Eclipsa and her love sometimes talk about names for the baby, but nothing really comes of it. To be honest, the other things surrounding pregnancy and impending parenthood occupy their time, along with everything else (supply runs, defenses against the Butterfly kingdom, evading the Butterfly kingdom, finding and securing food—just life, just life in general).
…
The Mewman king she first wed—arranged. Loveless marriage. Over the years increasingly vitriol. Obviously in the end, outright hatred.
He won't be missed.
Their daughter had seen them argue many times. (Eclipsa and the king had made some effort to hide those arguments or move them somewhere else—but all too often, the effort was futile.)
Sometimes Eclipsa insanely wonders if her daughter at least feels some relief over the absence of parental arguments. She knows it's a mostly foolish thought.
She is…there is turmoil over her, her only daughter, her Comet. Eclipsa still doesn't even know if she'll hand the wand and the spell book (Glossayrck) over right when she turns fourteen.
She knows this is the least of her worries.
Contrary to what most outsiders would probably think, Eclipsa's love had never pressured her to leave. They had talked of it before, a mutual discussion; but once Eclipsa's daughter had been born, all discussion of that was dropped, and they had even stopped seeing each other for a time, trying to separate again.
That had been their relationship for so long—on and off again; on before Eclipsa's arranged marriage, off when she finally did marry her betrothed; on again after Eclipsa's second year of marriage; off again once she was pregnant, on again when her daughter had turned five. Then, she could not…she just could not stand being apart any longer, nor could he…and the idea of running off together only returned as something to do once Comet was old enough. They had come to think they could live like this until then, seeking each other's company in the shadows, where no one else could find them, and it would just be the two of them…
When Eclipsa learned she was pregnant with a child not fathered by her husband (half-Mewman, half-monster), the instinct to run had ignited. It felt like a need, not a desire. Pema had agreed.
…
Eclipsa sometimes sends her daughter letters. A charm on them lets her know they reach Comet's hands, but she never knows if her daughter opens them.
Sometimes Eclipsa uses the spying spell to see her daughter. Even then, she doesn't see the letters, if they're opened or not.
Seeing her daughter through the all seeing eye spell makes Eclipsa ache in new ways. Sometimes she reaches out to touch, but always draws back.
(First Pema, now her daughter—this spell always for what she loved but could not have. Not both of them, anyway.)
…
More and more, Eclipsa questioned her love for her firstborn. Perfect mothers didn't exist, but she wasn't even a good one.
She cared for Comet, and thinking of her hurt…but if given the choice, she would not change her decision. She would not return.
If she had loved her daughter enough, she would go back, wouldn't she? (She would take her too, wouldn't she?)
But she loved Pema. She already loved the child they were going to have together. The thought of leaving him again, of leaving them—she couldn't.
She loved them more, didn't she?
And it was all wrapped up in her own individuality, wasn't it? She had chosen Pema; she did not choose Comet's father.
She could not agree with Mewni's current trajectory, she could not turn a blind eye to the monsters anymore. Her current efforts to help weren't working; she needed to try something else. Personal circumstances—the birth of her second child—demanded changes.
So did Eclipsa not love herself more, in the end?
It was something to own, not lie about, no matter how cruel a truth it may be.
…
In the morning, Eclipsa is ill again. More than that, she's bleeding.
About time—it's her first thought. She had expected this weeks ago. Her second child was late this time, not slightly early like her first. (By Mewman time anyway. Eclipsa had learned monster pregnancies could vary, just as much as their people could.)
Eclipsa is relatively amused by her love; he's trying to stay composed, and he's doing a fair job of it, but she can still feel the slight nervous tremble in his claws as he grabs and carries her to the midwife. This is his first time, while it is her second, and Eclipsa finds something bittersweet and marvelous about that.
While it being her second time brings some familiarity and a measure of calm—and she does this with someone she loves this time, which helps relieve anxiety—it does not necessarily bring complete ease. Not at all.
(Her firstborn daughter is always in the back of her mind.)
…
The midwives and other attending monsters are unnerved by the Mewman queen remaining entirely silent during delivery, no roar or growl or screech, not a sound leaving her, though sweat matted her dark hair and pain clearly lined her face. (They had only a few herbs to help with delivery, current scarcity had not been remedied in time.)
Pema is there, and isn't that surprised or unnerved, knowing it is like his love, though he does not know the reason.
(He and Eclipsa have not shared every single thing with each other. Eclipsa has not shared the extent of her mother's mantra for emotional concealment and composure.)
…
Eclipsa finally makes a sound, a delighted cry when the baby is out. Though she reminds herself of what some of the healers had told her before during her pregnancy, that not all monsters come out crying like Mewmans, Eclipsa is still a little startled by the child's quiet. But she remembers, remembers, especially when noticing how, though the others (minus Pema) had shown some clear shock at her own silence, they now act as if nothing is amiss with the baby's quiet, examining him with a routine calm. Most of the attending monsters are experienced with this, and Eclipsa has met them before; there are some new ones, and these Eclipsa has met too, and she recognizes one exhaling under her breath in a tone of awe and relief, "He looks like us!"
He is the baby, a boy, her first son, as Pema had breathed in her ear, voice thick with elation. (Were he wholly Mewman, already his right to the wand and reign would be forfeit. Those went to the Queen alone. Mewman kings were only accepted as the primary ruler once they were widowed and if the oldest princess was still too young—or deserted, as Eclipsa had done to hers.)
"He has hair though," another apprentice midwife whispers, and Eclipsa finally notices that he does. Her son is covered in scales, gray like his father's stripes—but only that color, none of Pema's dark rusted red scales that alternate with the gray stripes. There is no pattern on their son's scales, simply a uniform gray. The boy doesn't have his father's horns; he has a tail, claws, a snout like him, already fully lined with small fangs; when his eyes open, they are bright yellow like Pema's. But he has hair like her, dark hair, short strands of it that are at first slicked wet against his skull; but after a midwife dries him off some, they start to curl a little wildly.
It is Pema that passes the baby to Eclipsa, and she holds him, and all she can think is, How adorable.
"Toffee," Eclipsa exhales, her son's tail curling around her wrist. "He looks like a Toffee to me." (And to her royal Mewman sensibility, it felt right.)
Pema nuzzles the side of her face, runs a claw gently through the boy's hair, and agrees. Both ignore the dead silence from the rest of the midwives and attending monsters, all seized by the same thought: the Mewman queen is so strange.
…
But she is Mewman. Mewman. Mewman royalty. A Butterfly. Later they realize how the name she had given her son was more in line with her heritage. That name sticks out among the monsters, just like Eclipsa does.
(At least the boy looks more like them.)
…
Pema loves Eclipsa, and after long indecision over what to call their child, Eclipsa spoke that name with such conviction; and Pema still had no strong ideas for what to name their son—so, first come, first serve. And his love had sounded so adamant about it. And the boy was half-Mewman. But he took after his monster side so rather completely in appearance—his name, at least, could be more Mewman, with respect to his mixed heritage.
…
With scavenged pudding in hand, Eclipsa knocks on the spellbook, and presents Toffee to Glossayrck.
"Good Butterfly name," is all Glossayrck says in between bites, though his eyes don't leave Toffee, who's been staring at him wide-eyed since he first appeared, tail softly wagging. The infant finally breaks off his staring once Glossayrck burps, and Toffee hides his face in Eclipsa's shoulder at the sudden sound, curling tight against her.
ii.
Toffee's eyes sting with humiliation as his older cousin begins to cut his hair. His arms are straight, claws clenching and twisting the fabric covering his knees.
"Toff," his cousin entreats, slight whine in her voice. His cousin Arabella is fifteen and pushy and her voice can still get kinda nasally, but she has been around far longer on Mewni, way more than his four years (at least that's how he sees it). "Toff, after this you'll look more…normal, y'know—"
It makes his face grow more angry red hot, getting that reminder. Toffee can pass among the monsters at the temple, he looks a lot like the part-reptilian ones, his father's clan—but he has his mother's dark hair, and none of them have hair. If they have anything on their heads, they have horns, protruding spines, feathers—never hair. (To monsters outside of the village, Toffee can almost pass off his hair as feathers—until they get a closer look.)
The boy knows his hair rubs a lot of the grown-ups the wrong way. His cousin Arabella's not the first to say he'd look better without it. And even when some of the other kids regard it with more fascination and curiosity and ask to touch it and never tease him about it…deep down, he doesn't like that either. (Sometimes he'll let them, either with a forced smile or pretending not to care, or grumpily or acting really impatient so they'll get it over with faster; sometimes he just won't.)
Toffee thinks it stupid, unfair—there were monsters with fur, hair. There were all sorts of monsters! Just…not that many reptilian ones had fur or hair. Actually, he hadn't seen or heard of anyone else like that. Just him. Only one at the temple. Only half-monster, half-Mewman at the temple. (The boy had heard some rumors, gossip of other half-breeds like him, other monster-Mewman hybrids, a minority scattered across the land. But often he would hear the accompanying remark that they had never heard of one mothered by the highest-ranking Mewman, a Butterfly herself; and then his stomach would clench too uncomfortably, and he would turn away and find something else to do.)
Toffee was pretty sure everyone at the temple knowing his mixed heritage made his hair more of an issue than it had to be. If they didn't know, there wouldn't be so much fuss. (Toffee felt he had clear proof of this; outsider monsters who realized he had hair, though sometimes weirded out, did not make as much of a fuss, probably figured it was due to a scaled monster and a furred monster mixing; only some of them started to stare more and even regard him with some distaste when they learned about his parents.)
"—Toff, I wasn't kidding, you'll get sweets after this, I promise, I stole some with the others on a raid last week—"
Toffee's claws released the vice grip they had on his knees, arms moving up to cross over his chest. He remained hunched over, still pouting, but now more over the prospect of reluctantly being won over entirely by sweets. (And maybe it would be easier, if all his hair was cut off, and he looked more like everyone else…)
"—don't move, I don't want to cut you by accident."
The boy grumbled under his breath, but tried to stay still. Then he started to watch with some fascination and curiosity as he saw cut snips of his dark hair begin to fall on his shoulders, down his chest, on his clothes.
His hair, which had hung down to his shoulders when not held back into a ponytail, was now more level with the top of his snout. It was a new and interesting sight. Toffee's discomfort and humiliation was almost entirely forgotten until his cousin swore in alarm, and he felt some really weird movement and pushing from his head.
"What the hell just happened?" Arabella said, and Toffee stared at his hair—back to hanging down to his shoulders.
"Dunno, you tell me," he snapped, glaring at her. (Feeling angry with her felt better than focusing on how he was starting to get freaked out). "Did my hair just—?"
"Grow back in record time? Yeah," his cousin said, still sounding in shock.
Then she took a breath, grabbed and wound the bulk of his hair as if she was going to wrap it back into its ponytail. The older monster tugged it back, hard enough that it made Toffee yelp and his eyes squeeze shut. Then his cousin cut more quickly and sloppily.
When Toffee glanced back through one eye, he saw his cousin holding a solid chunk of his hair sliced off; it looked like it could be made into a doll for one of their new baby cousins. He noticed his neck was clear of hair again—his eyes widened and his heart pounded when he saw dark hair slide and curl back down, moving like it was some other monster's fur-covered appendage.
"Seriously, what in the actual hell…" His cousin swore, and tried cutting again, and again—for with each attempt, his hair freakishly grew back repeatedly. Her scissors snapped so much, Toffee felt the sound was drilled into his head now. He was grateful she avoided pulling hard on his hair again. The boy felt too nervous to question her stubborn attempts in what was clearly a losing battle; she looked angry, and kinda even a little possessed now. Toffee just stared at the growing amount of cut dark hair that was starting to surround them, and thought there was enough to make a blanket now.
Still dark hair hung to his shoulders, growing back each time.
When the scissors didn't snap again, Toffee sighed, relieved. That turned to alarm when he looked back and found his dad had grabbed Arabella's wrist and looked very mad.
Arabella was frozen in shock, and looking kinda petrified. Though she was really pushy, Toffee hoped dad wouldn't kill her, because right now, it really looked like he wanted to.
His cousin finally found her voice, and Toffee felt like taking back his recent thoughts. "He's doing a weird Mewman magic thing—!"
"You're cutting his hair without mine or Eclipsa's consent," his father said, voice too calm and quiet to be good.
Dad didn't kill Arabella, he just made her go away and said he'd talk to her parents later.
"Did you see, I—?" Toffee asked, almost too nervous to bring it up, but unable to resist. When it was just the two of them, his father seemed more like the good kind of calm, warmly ruffling his now-utterly-freakish hair.
"Yes, I saw enough."
"Is Arabella right, is it—?"
"I would think so, actually. I have not seen that happen with other monsters, and it did look like magic; you do have your mother's hair, after all. But we'll see what she thinks."
Toffee scowled. Haven't seen it with other monsters. Of course. It was always him. Why was it always him?
His father then swung him up so suddenly it made him laugh. Then Pema placed Toffee around his shoulders, and began to walk him to the main temple building.
"I like your mother's hair," his father said. "I like that you inherited it from her."
Toffee didn't respond, just laid his head on top of his father's, right in between his horns.
…
Eclipsa and Glossayrck agreed with dad; the rapid magical hair growth was likely from his royal Mewman, Butterfly side.
"If, deep down, you were truly all right with your hair being cut, it probably would've let itself be cut," Eclipsa later told Toffee in private, when she was putting him to bed.
Toffee's brow burrowed. "I was starting to be okay with it."
"Did you really?"
Toffee started to fidget under his mother's gaze. She was really good at looking like she was viewing him as if he were glass.
His mother then hummed a scrap of a song he didn't recognize, leaned over and kissed him good night, and said his father wished the same, but he was still at a meeting with the elders.
(And before he could really fall asleep, for a worried, panicked second, he wondered if his dad's meeting with the elders was about his freakish Mewman hair magic thing, remembering his cousin's earlier alarm.)
…
Toffee's first instinct when he sees his cousin again is to run, given that she had quite literally last time plucked him up and carried him away to try to cut his hair.
But Arabella just gives him the sweets she promised, and Toffee is really glad Dad hadn't killed her.
A/N: Thank you hollow-kitsune for the specific wording of the line "He looks like a Toffee!" and the theory about Toffee and Eclipsa, linked here on tumblr: .com[/]post[/]157377088132[/]theory-time
I have seen similar theories about Toffee and Eclipsa before, but this one put down some ideas I hadn't seen elsewhere before (but have personally considered in private).
Drew from hug-bees, storyboard revisionist on SVtFoE, saying on tumblr that Toffee did have hair.