a/n: Welcome to chapter 4, darlingest readers. I think this chapter is longer, which is why it took a bit more time to post – sorry for the delay. The first part is pure Queliot loveliness, to warm shipper hearts. Then, we're off to Fillory! Obvi, I had to retcon elements of what's been happening in the kingdom, since following the S5 teaser simply wouldn't work. :) Enjoy, and pls leave reviews!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the idea for how things play out – characters, etc., are all property of their rightful creators (Lev Grossman, SyFy, etc.)
After his shower, Quentin brushed his teeth and threw on some clean clothes – a plain pair of dark jeans and a navy-blue Henley. He finger-combed his still-wet hair, trying to get it to behave. After a minute, he gave up and decided to call it good enough.
As he headed downstairs, soft voices carried to his ears. Bounding off the final step, Quentin saw Kady, Julia, and Penny huddled around the kitchen island. They were talking to each other in hushed tones.
Julia glanced up and saw Quentin. She made an odd squeaking sound toward Kady and Penny, waving her hand.
"What's up, guys?" Quentin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing," Julia replied, a little too quickly.
"Yeah, cause that's not suspicious at all," he told all three of them with sarcasm.
"Q." The voice came from the other side of the room. Quentin turned his head in the direction of the sound, where Eliot was standing near the floor-length window. He was once again in jeans, this time a faded pair with twin holes in the knees and a small hole on one thigh. He was wearing a plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up part of the way. It was a look that was very becoming and made Quentin's breath hitch in his throat.
"Hey, El," Quentin finally said softly.
Eliot offered a small smile. "Can we talk?" Then, he opened the sliding door leading to the balcony. He waved a hand dramatically through the doorway, encouraging Quentin to step outside. Q obliged him, crossing the room and stepping out into the cool evening air. He stood against the balcony railing as Eliot slid the door closed and stepped up to stand beside him, a few feet away.
A moment of silence passed between them as they both leaned on the railing, looking straight ahead at the setting sun. "So. . ." Quentin began quietly, breaking the semi-awkward silence.
The uncomfortable feeling got the best of Quentin and he spouted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Alice came by. She's the new Librarian. As in, like, replacing Everett."
El cocked his head to the side, looking at Quentin with a mixture of shock and confusion. After a few seconds, a loaded "Interesting," is all he finally managed to say.
"Yupppp," Quentin replied, smacking his lips at the end of the word, hitting the 'p' sound hard and drawing it out. "She accepted the offer. Apparently, she thinks she can change the Library from the inside," Q continued. Seemingly unable to stop himself, he rambled on, "She seems like she's actually. . . happy, about it. I guess she figures that if people can give her a chance at redemption, she can spare the same for the Library."
Eliot was still staring at Quentin with curiosity. He clicked his tongue and said, "More power to her," before turning to look out at the horizon again.
Then, somewhat reservedly, Q said, "We're not a thing anymore." He pivoted to the side, so he was facing Eliot. "Me and Alice, I mean. We're basically—well, not basically, actually. We're totally done."
Eliot didn't look at him. He just stared straight ahead, nodding slowly as if processing the information. He held onto the railing and leaned his body back from the barrier in a thoughtful stretch.
"So, that's that. We're better as just friends—or whatever we are—anyway." Quentin added. "Me and Alice, that is," he clarified quickly.
"Okay," Eliot replied. He was still nodding, making it seem more like a nervous tic now.
Leaning an elbow on the railing and still standing sideways to face his best friend, Quentin sucked in a sharp breath. "You were wrong, you know," he stated, focusing every effort on keeping his voice steady.
Eliot peeked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Never," he quipped playfully.
Q let out a short, soft laugh. Then, serious again, he said, "You were, though. Before. About us."
The words hung in the air between them. Eliot closed his eyes and sighed. "Quentin," he began. But Quentin had already prepared himself for protestation and was determined to push onward, desperately needing to say all that he thought and felt.
"You said that it wasn't a choice," Quentin reminded Eliot. "But that's not true. It was always a choice, Eliot. And I chose you, or you chose me. . ." his voice faltered slightly. Shaking his head to restore his resolve, he continued, "We chose each other. Every day. For fifty years." He paused after each phrase, emphasizing the immense weight of their meaning.
"And you were also wrong," Quentin added, "when you said that we wouldn't choose each other if we had other options."
Finally, Eliot turned sideways, matching Q's stance of leaning an arm against the railing and facing each other head-on. Eliot's eyes were rapidly searching Quentin's face, looking for some kind of tell. But Q's poker-face was perfect – not that he needed it, because everything he was saying was true.
Looking up at the taller man, Quentin sighed. He slowly slid his arm forward across the railing, touching his fingertips to Eliot's. "Because when it comes down to it?" He nudged his arm forward again, resting his palm on the back of Eliot's hand. El's eyes darted down to the physical connection for the briefest of moments, before returning to Q's face.
Taking a step closer, Q finished his thought: "I don't want options. I just want you."
Then, with every bit of courage he could muster, Quentin raised up on the balls of his feet, pressing a kiss to Eliot's lips. The kiss was soft and sweet. . . but very deliberate. When Q pulled his face away slightly, planting his feet firmly on the ground again, he looked into Eliot's eyes, scanning for any hint of misunderstanding or doubt or rejection.
"Q," Eliot whispered, his breath warm and minty in Quentin's face.
"Don't," Quentin whispered back, kindly but with surprising authority. He grabbed Eliot by the shirt collar and, making up the for height difference, tugged to make him lean down. Their lips crashed together again, this time more forcefully. Quentin held onto his fistful of Eliot's shirt. Suddenly, Eliot's hands were on Quentin's waist and he pulled him closer, closing the small amount of distance that had been left between them.
Smiling through the kiss, Quentin ran his tongue along Eliot's lips, begging permission. El consented, parting his lips slightly to allow Quentin's tongue to slide into his mouth. The kiss deepened, and they both maintained their tight grip on each other – Quentin on Eliot's shirt, and Eliot on Q's hips.
When they finally separated, coming up for air, they kept their foreheads and noses pressed together. Eyes still closed, they stood still, just breathing together.
After a minute, Quentin let out a deep breath. "I'm choosing you, El," Quentin told him. "And I will continue to choose you. To have fucking peaches and plums with you. Every day, for the next fifty or seventy or 100 years. If you'll let me."
Eliot opened his eyes and saw that Quentin's were open, too, staring at him with a look of pure honesty. And burning desire. Finally, Q released his death-grip on Eliot's shirt, sliding his hands up to wrap around his neck, instead.
Faces still pressed together, Eliot gulped hard. "Q," he said again, this time with a bit more strength, hoping to keep Quentin from stopping him. "I know that you mean everything you say. And that you genuinely believe everything you think about me." He paused, feeling a swell of emotion bubble up in his throat. "But I cannot for the life of me figure out why." He pulled back to get a better look at Quentin.
"You're not supposed to ask why," Quentin replied, reaching up for a quick kiss, which Eliot allowed.
"I'm not the person you think I am," Eliot insisted. "I'm broken and damaged. I'm insecure and selfish. I can be shallow and a real asshole most of the time."
"I know," Quentin told him. At first, Eliot was going to chastise him for being so cheeky, but then he realized there was no hint of joking in Q's eyes. "I love you anyway," Quentin told him with a shrug, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Eliot sniffled, forcing himself not to let emotions overtake him. "And I have no fucking idea why you do." Quentin opened his mouth to respond, but Eliot silenced him with a hasty kiss. "But I made a promise to myself when I was trapped – ya know, in here," he raised one hand to tap a finger to his own temple.
"I promised to be braver," Eliot stated plainly. "And I think the bravest thing I can do right now," he paused to let out a heavy sigh, "is to let you love me. And to spend every day of the next fifty or seventy or 100 years becoming the person you deserve."
Quentin pulled back, looking genuinely surprised. He planted his hands firmly on Eliot's shoulders, more to steady himself than anything. "So, wait." Q shook his head, almost in disbelief. "You're saying. . ."
Eliot laughed and wrapped his arms around Quentin, fingers laced together at the small of his back. With a gentle tug, Quentin stumbled even closer to him, so their chests and hips were touching, with no distance between the two. "I'm saying," he whispered, craning his neck down to nuzzle his nose against Quentin's. "That I am head-over-heels, undeniably, disgustingly in love with you, Quentin Coldwater."
With a smile, Quentin tilted his head back and planted another kiss on Eliot's lips. "Disgustingly, huh?" he asked, mouth still pressed to Eliot's.
"Mm," Eliot hummed as Quentin rested his head in the crook of El's neck. "Like, sickeningly sweet. People will be grossed out at what a damn cute couple we are."
Quentin's breath tickled El's neck as he spoke, "A couple, huh?"
Eliot snorted contemptuously. "And I thought I was insecure."
Pulling away with a laugh, Quentin looked up at Eliot. "Now what?" he asked, shrugging. The two separated and stood facing each other. "I mean, I only planned out my confession of undying love. Never really thought about what would happen after that. Except making sure I didn't faint."
A devious glint flashed in Eliot's green-and-brown marbled eyes and he gave Quentin a devilish grin. "On any ordinary day," he began, still sounding rather mischievous. "I would throw you over my shoulder, carry you up to my room, slam you down on the bed, and fuck you six ways to Sunday."
Quentin swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "Heh. Re-really? Um. Uh. . ."
The grin faded and Eliot's eyes turned more somber. "But this is no any ordinary day."
"So. . . passionate lovemaking isn't gonna happen?" Quentin asked, frowning but still sounding somewhat hopeful.
"Not today, babe." Eliot sighed, genuine disappointment in his voice. "Because there's something else I need to talk to you about. Of the magical Monster, life-or-death variety."
"Shit." Quentin kicked the ground and let out a frustrated puff of air. "All right. What is it?"
"You better sit down," he said, pointing to the small patio set on the balcony. Q took a seat and Eliot settled in the chair across from him, taking a deep breath before launching into his speech. . .
About ten minutes later, Eliot had finished a long-winded explanation of everything that had transpired since waking in the hospital – from the general feeling of uneasiness to the weird, uncontrolled magical events that seemed to take place all around him, culminating to the roaring fire that was currently burning in his abdomen where some alien source of magic had settled and was threatening to tear him apart from the inside out as it fought for control that Eliot was not willing, or able, to relinquish. He also recounted his conversation with Julia, including her theories. He waited in silence for a few minutes, watching as Quentin stared at his shoes in utter silence and stillness, processing everything.
Finally, Q looked up and gave a single, curt nod, as if accepting the information. "If Julia thinks it feels like magic that's been god-powered, she probably knows what she's talking about," he decided. Then, looking across at the general location of Eliot's wound, he said, "Can I, ya know, see it?"
Eliot crinkled his nose. "Maybe later," he answered apologetically. "Julia re-stitched it and put a new bandage on. And it's been pretty. . . quiet since then. Not using any magic seems to help, too." He rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Gotcha," Q replied. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "A Fillorian Healer might be able to help. But I'm thinking this would be a bit extra, even for them."
"Fantastic," Eliot mumbled with extreme sarcasm.
"Some other magical beings, though? Or someone less traditional? They might know something."
Eliot waited for Q to continue. When he didn't, El patted his hand against the table impatiently. "C'mon, spit it out. Who? Or what?"
"Centaurs?" Q replied, sounding unsure. "Or a witch, maybe?"
Suddenly, the sliding door opened and Julia stepped out onto the patio. "I've got an idea," she announced. Then, her eyes widened and she put a hand to her chest dramatically, only partially joking about it. "You guys have made it to the part where we try to resolve the latest in a long line of magical complications, haven't you?"
"Yes, Jules," Quentin assured her, standing up from the chair. Eliot stood, too, and they both approached the girl. "What's your idea?"
Julia clapped her hands together in front of her and smiled widely as she told them, "Maenads!" Then she spun on her heel and marched back inside, beckoning them to follow.
Inside, Penny and Kady were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, waiting for them. Obviously, Julia—and maybe even Eliot, while Quentin was still upstairs—had filled them in on the magical dilemma at hand.
"I'm sorry, what kind of nads?" Eliot asked, utterly confused.
"Maenads," Julia said again, enunciating the word.
Penny exhaled deeply and folded his arms across his chest. "They're, like, roadies for the gods."
A flash of remembrance sparked in Quentin's mind. "You mean, like Shoshana?"
Julia's eyes softened and she gave a solemn nod. Then, quickly recovering as best she could, she continued, "When we found Shoshana, there were tons of other maenads. I would bet they probably have their own culture, where we could find more of them. And they know everything there is to know about gods and their power."
Kady nodded thoughtfully from the other side of the couch. "Shoshana thought she could help you understand and maybe recover your powers, right, Julia?" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "So, any other maenad should be able to tell us what the hell is going on, and offer some kind of fix for it, right?"
"It took a lot of convincing to get Shoshana to help us though, remember?" Penny chided.
Julia bit her lip. "But, maybe that was because Bacchus had just died. A maenad who didn't just lose their deity might be more. . ." she searched for the word, finally settling on, "forthcoming?"
"Wait." Eliot put a hand in the air. Everyone looked at him expectantly. "Bacchus is dead? Like, dead-dead?"
Penny rolled his eyes, rising up from the couch. "Uh, yeah, the Monster tore a hole through him. Just like he did to three other gods," the Traveler explained bluntly. "Seriously, you don't remember anything from when the Monster was wearing you like a Halloween costume?"
"I was locked in the Mind Palace, far away from any awareness of current events," Eliot stated, matter-of-factly. Then, putting his hands on his hips with an air of defiance, he added, "The lights were on but nobody was even in the damned neighborhood."
Quentin placed a reassuring hand on Eliot's shoulder. "It's probably best that you don't remember. The Monster was a big fan of gore and shock-factor."
"Hey, um, isn't the clock sort of ticking, here?" Penny interjected, tapping his wrist, where a watch would be, for emphasis.
"Right," Julia agreed with a firm nod. "We need to get to Fillory, ASAP." Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, "And we need Josh."
"Okay," Eliot said with an exasperated sigh. "Let's get going."
"About that," Kady started, standing up. "With all that's going on with the hedges and everything, I think it might be best if I stay behind."
Quentin stepped forward and patted Kady's arm comfortingly. "Do what you need to do. Maybe you can manage a kind of home-base for us here?"
Kady gave a confident smile. "You got it. I'll hold the fort down, and we can always communicate by bunny if something comes up." Suddenly, her eyes brightened. "Ya know, Alice seemed pretty desperate to prove that the Library actually gives a shit now. Maybe I can convince her to do some leg-work for us, to share whatever intel the Library's been hoarding."
"Sounds good," Q told her.
Penny grabbed Julia's hand and then looked expectantly at the others. "All aboard. Next stop: Fillory."
Quentin took Julia's hand, then held his other hand out for Eliot to take. With a groan, Eliot glanced down toward his abdomen. "I have a feeling Traveling is going to be very painful." Then, somewhat begrudgingly, he accepted Quentin's hand. In the next instant, they were gone, leaving Kady standing alone in the living room.
~!MAGIC!~!MAGIC!~!MAGIC!~
Margo firmly grasped the bars of the cell and shook, rattling them as hard as she could. "LET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING CAGE, YOU FUCKERS!" She hollered over the clanging metal. After a few moments, she finally stopped and threw her arms down, letting out a sharp, rage-filled scream.
Josh stood silently behind her in the cell, eyes wide. "Margo, maybe we shouldn't antagonize them further?" he suggested, softly and sweetly.
The woman wheeled around to face her kind-of boyfriend. "Are you taking their side?" she asked, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"No, of course not!" Josh exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry. That was probably not the right wording," Josh mumbled, backing up to a corner of the cell.
"Damn straight." Margo put her hands on her hips and let out a long exhale. They heard footsteps and she spun around, her hair – which had all but fallen out from the loose bun she'd had it in – swished around her shoulders. "Tick," she growled through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing into a threatening glare at the new arrival.
"Greetings," Tick said pleasantly, ever the diplomat. "I sincerely apologize for these, mm, less than desirable accommodations." He waved his hands, making a general gesture for the castle dungeon in which they found themselves. "But is there anything I can do for you, at this time?"
"Besides taking a long walk off a short pier?" Margo asked sarcastically. She folded her arms over her chest.
Tick frowned. "I am deeply sorry, Former High King."
The new title only fueled Margo's anger. She shook the bars again and then kicked one. Immediately regretting the action, she dropped to the floor, holding her foot. "Ugh! Shit, shit, stupid, dammit!"
Josh hurried forward, kneeling down and offering a hand to Margo. She waved him away and continued rubbing her foot. Josh stood and looked through the bars. "Tick, c'mon man. All we did was show up. Five minutes later, you're having us thrown in the brig! Is all of this really necessary?"
There was a moment of hesitation, as if Tick was genuinely considering setting the pair free. But he quickly shook away the thought. "A thousand apologies, Master Josh. But the bylaws are undeniable: Everlasting Banishment must live up to its name and anyone who disobeys that is committing high treason."
"Okay, then why can't you just let us go? Turn us out on our asses – we'll leave peacefully!" Josh pleaded, hoping he could appeal to some kind of loyalty or compassion within the man.
Tick sighed. "'Just showing up,' as you so quaintly put it, is offense enough. Her Former Majesty had to be detained. And," Tick bridged his hands together in front of him, pointing them in Josh's general direction. "You, Master Josh, are now treasonous by association."
"Bullshit!" Margo shrieked. She had settled into a criss-cross seated position on the floor of the cell.
Offering a tight, exasperated smile, Tick stated, "Our Allies were clear, and quite insistent. Releasing Her Former Majesty would be interpreted as an act of war."
"Where is Fen?" Margo hissed from the floor. "What, can't she face me herself?"
"On the contrary, High King Fen is in the midst of diplomatic meetings, discussing this very matter."
"Wait, what does that mean?" Josh asked.
"Well," Tick began sheepishly. "As I said, Fillory's Allies are not at all pleased with Former High King Margo's return, as it involves direct violation of her banishment. They feel that imprisonment is not the appropriate response to such. . ." he paused, glancing up as he searched for the right word. "Insubordination?" he finally said, although he still sounded unsure.
Margo stood up, favoring her foot somewhat, but seemingly recovered. "I saved this place – this Kingdom? The people? They are mine," she proclaimed darkly, holding out hope that she could hide her pain with anger. It's not like the anger was totally false, or unfounded, anyway.
"You all would be nothing—scratch that; you'd be less than nothing, because you would've been destroyed. Just, fizzled out until you were all so fucking extinct that it'd make dinosaurs seem like they're only endangered—without me, and my friends," Margo reminded the emissary.
Josh held up a hand, "Hold it for a second, Margo. Tick, what exactly do the Ally forces feel is the 'appropriate' response?"
"Well, the banishment was meant to be everlasting," Tick reiterated. The man swallowed hard before continuing. "It seems, I'm afraid, that they would like, well. . ." he halted, his mouth dry and seemingly incapable of forming the words.
Margo rolled her eyes and pointed a finger at Tick. "I know it's typically impolite, but don't you dare swallow this down. Spit it out," she ordered.
Frowning, Tick complied with the demand: "They are calling for a formal execution."
The two prisoners widened their eyes. Margo spoke up first, "I'm sorry. They want to do what, now?"
"An execution, ma'am," Tick repeated, apparently failing to understand the concept of rhetorical questions. "In fact, there are many who would prefer the execution to be quite public."
"Tick! You should have led with that, man!" Josh exclaimed. "We need to bust out of here," he urged Margo, grabbing her by the shoulder.
"That's what I've been trying to do!" Margo told him, frustration evident. Josh looked at the locked cell door and began running through Poppers, muttering all the spells he could remember that might serve to unlock something.
"Save it." Margo sighed, grasping Josh's hands to stop him. "When I was King, I enchanted these to prevent anyone from escaping. This whole dungeon is basically magic-proofed."
"A brilliant and long overdue idea," Tick praised. Obviously, he was trying too hard.
"Except now it's ended up fucking us over," Margo stated, glaring in Tick's general direction.
Tick opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully, as if waiting for an answer to appear. Then, he held up a finger, signaling the pair to wait a moment, before abruptly turning around and leaving.
Josh quizzically gazed at the spot Tick had been standing. "Um, okay?" He turned to Margo. "So, is he
Just as unexpectedly, Tick returned. This time, he had a huge smile on his face.
"What the hell are you so happy about, Napoleon?" Margo asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.
"It would appear as though some guests have arrived to the castle."
"Whoop-de-shittin-doo," Margo droned sarcastically.
"Visitors, Oh-Banished-One," Tick told her. Then, with a wink—or, at least, an attempt at winking—he added, "Perhaps they will be able to raise your spirits."
Josh and Margo exchanged confused glances. Then, they heard soft footsteps rapidly approaching the dungeon. Fen appeared, also wearing a huge smile.
"You!" Margo shouted, still enraged. "You little crown-stealing, backstabbing shit-stain."
Fen's smile disintegrated. "But, you—you told me to overthrow you! I didn't steal the crown, you gave it to me."
"Not for keeps, Fen!" Margo groaned. "I thought that was implied!"
Before the argument could continue, more footsteps made their way down the corridor. It sounded like multiple people.
"Please don't be an angry mob, please don't be an angry mob," Josh chanted quietly.
Then, two pairs of representatives from Loria rounded the corner. The four heavily-armored men split like the Red Sea, revealing Prince Ess of Loria.
"Oh, what fresh hell is this?" Margo groaned, meandering toward the back of the cell.
Ess approached, wearing a profoundly smug grin. "Is that how you greet your savior?"
Margo scoffed based on principle, but curiosity got the best of her. So, she turned to glance over her shoulder at the prince of the neighboring territory.
"Please tell me you're here to stage a coup," Josh begged.
It was Fen who answered. "I can neither release you nor allow you to stay in the castle." Her voice was even and her words deliberate. "But if you escaped from your cells? Well, I have no control over that. And if you should further happen to make it out of the castle – well, that would actually be good news for me because then I'm no longer liable."
With that, Fen gave Margo an apologetic but hopeful look, nodded to Ess, and whirled around, exiting the dungeon. Tick put his head down and hurriedly followed his High King away from the prisoners and their visitors.
Ess clicked his tongue and jerked his head in the air, gesturing toward the keys that were hanging on a hook on the wall. One of his guards raced forward and grabbed the keys, wasting no time in unlocking the cell.
"We have to hurry. Your King said we have but a few minutes while her guards change," the prince explained as the cell door swung open with a loud screech of aged metal.
Josh and Margo didn't wait to be asked twice, charging out of the confined space. "Now what?" Josh asked, expectantly.
"Now, we get out of here," Ess told them, spinning on his heel to march down the corridor. The escaped prisoners followed him, with his entourage bringing up the rear as they all left the dungeon behind them.
Once back on the main floor of the castle, the group deftly maneuvered through the halls of the expansive structure. Margo gave Josh a questioning side-glance as Ess made an unexpected, sharp turn, leading them down a hallway that was relatively hidden. Margo found herself wondering if they had been duped and were, in fact, being led to the execution Tick had mentioned. If she could avoid that, she certainly would, but at the very least, she didn't want it to be a total shock.
"Um, where exactly—"
Ess responded with a harsh, "Shhhhh!"
Margo leaned toward Josh and whispered, "Did he just shush me?"
Josh only nodded, but stared straight ahead and continued walking. Margo did the same, conceding to the hopefulness of her semi-boyfriend. They trailed behind Ess through a winding series of narrow, dark corridors. Finally, Ess came to a sudden halt. Margo crashed into the back of him, her nose smacking against the man's strong shoulder. Beside her, Josh stuttered to a stop. Almost instinctively, he grabbed Margo's elbow and steadied her after her collision.
"You make a better window than a door," Margo muttered, leaning around Ess so she could see what he was staring at so intently. Her heart sank when she saw that there was nothing but a brick wall. They had reached a dead-end. Either Ess had gotten them lost, or they were about to be murdered. "Oh, balls," she said with a defeated sigh.
"For once in your life, can you please be quiet?" Ess asked, barely glancing over his shoulder. He then tapped his foot on the floor, impatiently. "Come on," he mumbled.
Josh leaned closer to the prince to quietly ask, "Are we waiting for something?"
"Someone, yes."
The vagueness was infuriating. Margo hated being out of the loop of anything – which was especially true of instances that directly involved her. Just as she was about to rip Ess a new one, not caring how much noise she made, she heard a familiar whoosh. Uncontrollably, Margo let out a surprised but satisfied laugh at the sight of the new arrival.
"Penny!" Josh breathed out, allowing the blood to return to his face. Apparently unable to restrain himself, he raced forward and engulfed the Traveler in a ferocious hug. The force almost knocked Penny backwards, making him stumble slightly, before he reciprocated by wrapping a single arm around Josh and patting his friend's back.
"What are you doing here?" Margo asked, genuinely surprised.
"Uh, rescuing you?" Penny said in that typical Penny way as he disentangled himself from Josh.
Margo grabbed Ess by the shoulder, tugging on him so he had to face her. "You were in on this?"
"Don't look so surprised," Ess answered, donning a smile that showed how proud he was of himself.
"Wait. Won't this cause some epic civil war or something?"
Ess shrugged. Margo waited for him to say something else, but he didn't.
Penny sighed. "Okay, wanna stop looking the gift horse in the mouth and get the hell out of here?"
"Yes, please!" "Hell yes!" Josh and Margo exclaimed in unison, nodding fervently.
Margo stepped forward so that she and Josh were on either side of Penny. "Are the others with you?"
The expression on Penny's face made Margo's stomach lurch. "Most everybody," Penny answered. But there was obviously something else lingering there.
Josh must have picked up on the change in Penny's demeanor, too, because he asked, "Uh-oh. What new problem do we have to deal with?"
Penny scrunched up his nose. "You'll see," is all he replied.
Margo looked at Ess, nodding purposefully in his direction as a means of thanking him. He got the gist because he nodded back and even offered a small wave. Then, he turned away, heading back down the hall with his guards, determined to face whatever consequences might be waiting for him with members of the other lands. Margo made a secret promise to herself to right things with the prince whenever she finally manages to fix her banishment predicament.
Then, Penny placed a hand on each friend's shoulder before blipping out of the castle.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .