Chapter Twelve: If only...
The clothes slid across the clothes rail one by one, from left to right, under analytical magentas eyes. Everything was white. Satin and Chenille provided the type of clothes she liked: with a lot of glitter, whimsical, full skirts and floral patterns; dresses that basically would make her be spotted miles away, especially if she was escorted by her friend Guy Diamond.
But tonight she didn't want to wear anything like that. She had more than twenty dresses right in front of her and they had belonged to her mother. It felt right to try one of them. They all seemed too simple - that much was true - but once she had heard Nova Swift saying that 'less is more', which basically meant, the less details, more naturally beautiful she'd be. Now she couldn't agree more.
Poppy liked glitter, of course, she loved to shine like a true Queen. But as she picked a dress and slowly put it on, zipping it up and watching how the light fabric hugged her curves in the right places, making her exude royalty and refinement, she knew a nice dressmaker could change history with its design.
Staring at herself in the mirror, the Pop Queen saw somebody else in there. She didn't look like her childish self; instead, she looked slender, her back seemed straighter, her shoulders were backwards, puffing up her chest with a certainty that seemed to dress her with equal pride and beauty as she wore the fancy fabric.
"Are you ready, Poppy?" Branch called from the armchair by the glass window. He had gotten dressed much quicker than she had, having only shorts and leaf vests that he had brought. He heard someone knocking and tried to hurry the astounded Queen that had disappeared inside the closet more than half an hour ago.
"Just trying something different with my hair. Be right out." She replied and Branch stood up to open the door for a scrawny old lady that stood outside.
"I was instructed to attend the Empress's needs," she said, bowing respectfully at him.
"Hm… hi. I'm Branch." He wasn't used to having servants. He didn't really know how to act around them. "I think she already helped herself."
With a surprised look, the lady dashed inside with an urgency like that her job depended on it.
"Oh… you look exactly like our dear Lily," Branch heard the woman say, with Poppy politely replying that she didn't need assistance. Of course, everything was in vain because the woman insisted on fixing her hair.
Branch heard them talking some more and decided to inspect the only place he hadn't taken a closer look: the bed. It was way too big for a single troll and he couldn't help but think about all the explorations they could do in there. He could hardly wait. The mattress was even softer than the one she had given him. He bounced like a kid to try it out and a smile plastered his face. There were many pillows. He chose one and laid his head on it. His eyes wandered upwards at the structure from where the bed veil was hanging and found something square-shaped with faint colored reflexes.
"Let's try the crown…" he heard the maid saying inside the closet and Poppy protested a few times before giving in. Branch took the opportunity to get the object. It was a book. A blank book written "To Poppy" on the first page, with round letters that seemed to be made with a quill.
Was this the gift?
He heard his girlfriend gasping and he hid the book under her pillow before standing up. Her timid steps clacked across the floor, making Branch notice that she had some shoes on, even if he couldn't see them.
His jaw dropped at the sight before him. The hem of her dress just barely brushed the floor. It went up in an endless and fluid line up to her waist. Her back was completely exposed and the fabric hung loose in the front. He wondered where she had hidden that figure, and how blind he had been not to see it before.
The crown on top of her head was equally as magnificent. It was made of rough gems, with pearls and silver chains forming a round arch that looked like it was made by mother nature itself. Branch recognized all the crystals and moonstones that decorated it. It looked RIGHT on her head and it scared him. If dating a Queen was already a big thing, he wondered how it would be like with an Empress.
"Do I look silly?" Her self-consciousness spoke for her. Branch couldn't think of a proper answer where he wouldn't blab and make a fool of himself. His body didn't respond to his thoughts. He felt his feet leading him to her until their fronts were touching. His hands wanted to wrap her in a tight embrace, but he didn't want to ruin the preciousness of her dress, so he reached for her face and kissed her long and lovingly, pouring his heart and his answer by his actions, hoping that she'd understand that he saw a stunningly beautiful woman standing in front of him and nothing less.
They heard the maid sniff and saw her avert her eyes in a mix of emotion and embarrassment. For an eternal instant, Branch didn't care about being discreet. His heart was beating wildly as if telling him that he was kissing Poppy goodbye and the Empress hello. His insecurities started to run wild, but she seemed to make him feel that he was the only one to capture her full attention when her lips parted and caressed him in an intimate and strawberry flavoured dance.
"We should go," he breathed, leaning his forehead against hers. With half parted lids he saw her smile widening. She was trembling under his touch and her body seeked shelter in his, where she felt protected, where she felt safe.
They opened the door and Branch felt Poppy hooking her arms with his, like he was escorting her to a fancy ball. The hallway outside was filled with guards that didn't mask their surprise at the new arrivals. Most of them were old enough to have met the previous Empress and were never allowed to look her in the eyes, for her looks were treated like a forbidden fruit in Eden. Everything was new, for the royal girl and for the staff. They would have to adapt to each other.
They walked down the staircase where the Prime Minister waited for them with a serious look. If he was affected by Poppy's appearance he didn't show it, instead, he seemed to be eager to talk business and get the castle working in its full glory as it was before.
"Your Grace," he bowed exaggeratedly, making Branch nudge her playfully, almost getting a chuckle from her lips. "The kitchen staff is arranging the dinner table, so I invite you for a brief tour through the rooms."
"We'd be delighted." Poppy made sure to stretch the pronoun, so the older troll would understand that Branch would always be with her. Once again, the silent treatment from a vexed Prime Minister was inviting enough for them both to follow him around, room after room while he explained the history of each painting and each chandelier.
"You see that mirror carved in moonstone was a gift from the first suitor of your great grandmother. Very bold young fellow, but he couldn't guess her name and had to accept his fate." The said in an exceedingly excited voice, as if he took pleasure in saying that every Empress was successfully condemned to loneliness. "That room over there is the drawing room. We use that to arrange private meetings with leaders that are invited and require a more intimate atmosphere."
"Do you have a library full of fairy tale scrapbooks?" Poppy seemed delighted with the amazingness of the interior decorations, even if it was minimalist due to lack of use over the years, but the stones themselves made everything shine.
"Scrapbooks, no; we have real books. Each Empress had their glorious story written down in detail. Every song they inspire is meticulously described in their pages."
"Songs…?" Poppy and Branch echoed. The teal troll felt the need to understand exactly what an Empress was supposed to do. Their days would be incredibly boring if they were supposed to just stand there and look respectable. The Prime Minister found the question quite impertinent, but seeing that Poppy had also questioned it, he had no choice but to answer them.
"The Empress of Music's job is to create inspiration and blow them to the reigns."
"Wait, what?" Branch half laughed. "To create inspiration? Uh…" He exchanged an amused look with Poppy. "When the Strings got destroyed we learned the music comes from our hearts."
"Ah… yes." The Prime Minister frowned, "those Strings were convenient enough to inspire the tribes to have a willing heart. But the inspiration itself is created the traditional way."
To illustrate his explanation, he pushed open another door, on the west wing, to reveal a great room with several instruments on display. It looked like a conductor's dream store. Cellos, piano, violins, tubas, drums, guitars… even unknown instruments like bamboo whistles had their place. At their awe-d expressions the old troll continued. "She transforms the songs she receives to be suitable for troll's ears by composing them and sending them to the right tribe. This is her creation room."
"This is amazing!" Branch said. It was like finding a treasure, only it was much more valuable than gold. The possibilities of endless inspirations to compose countless songs was a gift to any troll. "Where does she get the songs from?"
"The Moon." The Prime Minister's eyes gleamed when he said that, causing Branch to sober up, as if he wasn't buying the story.
"I've never seen a place like this…" Poppy hadn't moved from her position. Her eyes were taking in the size of the place and her hand flew to her heart to feel it opening to the world of possibilities that just unfolded right in front of her.
"This is all yours, Your Grace," the Prime Minister said, eyeing Branch who was clearly distracted. "Would you accept a gift?"
"Wow… this place alone is a better gift than I could ever ask for." She tightened her hand on her boyfriend's and then looked back down, seeing that the Prime Minister had clapped twice. Immediately a maid approached with a small velvet box.
"What is this?" Poppy asked curiously.
"This…" the Prime Minister said, opening up the box to show her a small and delicate ring. It looked smaller than the one Branch was carrying around and the gemstone was purely white. The golden band had four carved drawings: each a phase of the moon. "... was your mother's ring." With a little hesitation, Poppy picked it up in her hands, carefully studying its shape and size.
It looked like her mother had the same sized hands she did. The whole situation of coming to where she had lived, to what she dressed in and her routine dawned on Poppy that, the woman she had never known, had been happy and found love here. She understood why Branch was so eager to follow in his dad's footsteps. It was not just a journey to the past, but also a way to connect to their history. They were standing on their roots.
She slid the ring on her middle finger, seeing how perfectly it suited her. A sniff made her turn to Branch, who seemed to be more sensitive to the whole situation than she was. He had such a big and brave heart. She was there because of him. There was nothing she could do that would match his thoughtfulness.
The gem gleamed for a second and both pop trolls stared at it in amazement. It was enough to miss a subtle and contended nod from the Prime minister.
"Like I predicted. It suits you well," he said, turning around and leading the couple back out to the halls. "I believe dinner is served."
"Ouch." Poppy looked down at her hand, seeing the ring on her finger curiously.
"What's wrong?" Branch asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Oh nothing, probably a bug bit me."
Still too shaken up to manage their own thoughts, Poppy and Branch followed their guide back to where they had come from, to find out that the dining room was big enough to fit more than fifty people comfortably, sitting next to each other. Not that the room had ever been used to its full capacity - perhaps back a thousand years when the Empress required to be amused during fancy dinner parties - but it was at their disposal if anyone needed to throw a party.
Only three plates were placed at the end of the table. Even the ceramics had silver decorative ornaments painted with round edges. Everything seemed to live and breathe the moon. Branch pulled a chair, helping Poppy to sit down with his chivalrous techniques and getting a grateful grin from her.
A troll dressed as a butler walked in and opened a bottle of white wine, which was poured first for the pink queen, inflating her ego quite a bit. Then, he turned to Branch, but before he could pour a single drop, the teal troll raised his hand, stopping the servant with a halt.
"I don't drink. Thanks."
"Since I'm working, no drinks for me either," the Prime Minister immediately added, sending the butler out of the room.
"Oh well. Looks like I'm drinking alone," Poppy giggled, sipping on the wine to try it. Her surprised face made Branch grin at her. She loved the taste and would have to hold herself back from drinking the whole bottle. "Would you mind telling us more about this place?" she said, taking another generous sip.
"There's nothing much to tell… we've lived here since the beginning," the Prime Minister began, as another butler walked into the dining room, serving a small amount of ceviche as an entrée. Branch willingly accepted the dish and was salivating at the appetizing smell before he even took the first bite. The Prime Minister continued. "Like a matchstick, if inspiration doesn't ignite the right heart it fades before being useful. Creating sounds and whispering them into the right tribe's direction is the Empress's job."
"So… you're saying the first creational impulse comes from this place?" Poppy asked, amused.
"No… it comes from the moon, through you," he patiently explained, watching her sip on her drink some more. "Since we've been without an Empress, the tribes have fallen in a swirl of remixes and reinvented songs. Nothing too original has been created in the last twenty-five years."
"Of course it has!" Poppy blurted out, "Our creative process may lack… many instruments… we don't have rooms like yours…" The explanations sounded oddly farfetched to Poppy's ears.
" - like yours, your Grace," he corrected her and Poppy took another sip, feeling an energetic spur taking over her. Branch watched the argument like watching a tennis match, with his mouth full of ceviche.
"Whatever," Poppy continued, "anyway, my point is: we all inspire each other, the tribes all live in harmony now. A lot has changed."
"How many original songs have you heard lately, if you don't mind me asking?" the Prime Minister queried.
"A lot-" Poppy started, but this time it was Branch who cut her off.
"Hm… I think I sort of see what he is trying to say, Poppy," he swallowed another bite. "Not all of us can create songs as easily as you do. You have a special talent." He reached for her hand and squeezed it in a supportive way.
"But Branch…" she replied quietly, eyeing him with uncertainty.
"It looks like you've been using your powers even without knowing, your Grace." The Prime Minister's food was untouched and he played with a small olive on his plate. "The new era is blooming."
"Oh… about that." Poppy laughed awkwardly, looking at Branch for backup. "You see… I haven't decided if I want to stay here."
"I have no doubts that you'll see that you belong here," the Prime Minister replied, watching her intently, leaning forward like a dangerous wild cat that was about to attack its prey. Branch frowned and clenched his free hand in a fist under the table, getting ready for whatever was going to be revealed. The Prime Minister lowered his voice. "We can be very persuasive."
"The place itself is amaz… ing." Suddenly Poppy let go from Branch's hand and placed her palms fully spread on the table on each side of her plate, as if she had been hit by a dizzy spell. "But… I have a kingdom to run…" she continued, closing her eyes and opening them several times, as if she was trying to focus on something in front of her but wasn't being successful..
"I'm sure your boyfriend will be flattered to run it for you," the old troll replied, finally grabbing a small tomato and chewing it with appreciation.
"Frosting…" she cursed under her breath, raising a hand to her forehead.
Seeing this Branch switched straight into protective mode. He stood up, dropping the chair behind him with a loud noise. His heart seemed to be beating in his throat.
Poppy's face had gone extremely pale as she looked up at him.
"Branch..." she stammered, "I don't feel well..."
Poppy tried to stand up too, reaching for him, but she stumbled on her own chair while trying to take a step. Branch caught her just before she collided with the floor. Her eyes focused on him for a second before rolling back in her head and completely passing out.
"Poppy!" Branch called in fright. He quickly checked her pulse. Her heart was beating, she still had a bit of color on her cheeks, even if her lips were deadly pale. Branch swung around to the Prime Minister in a panic. "Do you have a doctor?!" he screamed, but the troll at the table just looked at him serenely, watching the scene unfold in front of him.
"She's going to be fine," The Prime Minister replied, standing up.
Branch growled, almost like an animal, curling his body over Poppy's, caging her in his protective arms. The Prime Minister sighed. "Let go of her and stand back, please."
"You're insane if you think I'm leaving her!" Branch scooped her up in his arms, scanning the room for doors and windows to which he could escape. He never thought she would feel so light or perhaps, in his despair, he had gained some unknown strength. Either way, he could easily manage to run towards the huge double doors with his hands protectively around her.
"No, Branch…" The Prime Minister calmly lit up a pipe, smoking up the room with a terrible smell. "You're insane if you think you can escape this Island, with our highly trained army guarding our Empress's best interests."
And as if confirming his point, the doors Branch was running to, spun open and several white armored guards ran inside, forming a circle around him with their swords ready to slice their way to their beloved Empress. He was trapped. There wasn't a way out.
"Put the Empress on the ground and step back," the distasteful voice echoed in the room again. "You may live if you do so."
"You can't force her to stay!"
Branch decided that convincing this Prime Minister that Poppy would be the wrong choice of a leader would be more useful than battling with his bare fists. Even if he could stand some cuts and knowing that he was able to inflict damage on the guards, he couldn't risk getting Poppy hurt.
"She doesn't want to. She wasn't born to fit in here."
"But you see… she fits so well." The Prime Minister walked towards them, approaching from behind the guards. "She has all qualities of an Empress. Tell me if I'm wrong: she speaks with her eyes and listens with her heart."
Branch bit his tongue from a comeback. He didn't want to admit it, but what the old man said was true. The Prime Minister smiled. "I know that she will understand with time."
The guards moved forward to retrieve Poppy, but Branch held her tight to him. Branch's futile struggle ended with a gash in his right arm and Poppy violently being teared from him. The scene that followed seemed to play in slow motion. He heard the swords singing as they were sheathed, his arm stung when he was held mercilessly on his deep wound, staining the guard's uniform with blood. Branch fought with the last surge of energy he had. He kicked, he bit, he blew those trolls away with his hair, but he could do nothing but watch Poppy's limp form being carried out of the room, with the crown still in place and the ring shining on her finger.
After that four guards jumped on top of him and his strength diminished to the point of having to concentrate to breathe. They were crushing his lungs and slick blood formed a small puddle on the ground.
"Poppy…" He choked.
It had been a stupid idea. He had brought her on a dangerous trip, he put her on the front line and now she was being held hostage by some people they had only read a scrapbook about! King Peppy had been right. It was a stupid fantasy version of the real place. How could he think that a court that killed the Empress's suitors was a nice place to visit?
"Do we take him to the room?" one of the guards asked and the other answered him.
"No, we have specific orders to get rid of him."
The weight was lifted just when Branch thought was about to pass out. His sight darkened and he was pulled from the floor standing, wobbling on numb feet. Maybe he had lost too much blood.
He was captured, two of the guards grabbed him by his arms and legs. Branch didn't have any fighting spirit in his body anymore. He felt, half awake, as warm air became cold and clear light became dark. The marble ceiling was replaced by a starry sky and the Moon seemed to laugh at his uselessness.
Branch wished he had been a better boyfriend, a better friend… if only he had the chance to do it all again, he would be Poppy's best friend from the start, while they were still innocent kids running on top of a tree playing freeze-tag. He played the scene out in his head as the guards dragged him into the night..
She would giggle with her childish voice and use her short hair to try to reach for his ankle. He would laugh back, knowing that her efforts wouldn't pay off, after all she was a couple of years younger and her short legs wouldn't compare to his older, leaner ones.
But she wouldn't give up and would fiercely chase him around, freezing all their friends along the way, but never taking her playful eyes off him. He'd avoid and tease her, sticking his tongue out to make her mad.
And then, she'd slip in the green moss and fall down with a yelp. She had been such a clumsy child so she'd probably cut her feet or sprain an ankle. Because everybody else was frozen, it would be up to him to rescue her with all the courage a five-year-old could muster.
The corner of her wide eyes would burn with tears, but she would fight them to show him how brave she was. He would immobilize her feet with a twig and tear a piece of his shorts to tie them together.
Then he would carry her to the nursery pod, on his back, supporting her all the way to the doctor. While she would wait for her dad to arrive and take her home, he would kiss her cheeks and tickle her tummy, making her laugh to forget the pain.
"Branchie…" she would say in a tiny squeaky voice. "You're my best friend."
"You're my best friend, too, Poppy."
"Will you always be there for me?"
"I promise." he would reply, finding her drama very amusing.
"Don't forget me, Branchie."
Branch felt his body being violently shaken and opened an eyelid to see what was going on. The guards had placed him in a sitting position.
How could he ever forget her? Even after his grandma had been eaten, he curiously watched how the King would show the Princess around and he was entranced by her colors. She was such a funny baby, so chubby that he couldn't help but want to play with her.
His arms were jerked in front of him and he felt a rope being tightened around his wrists. The dried blood cracked as he was moved and the wound reopened. Thick warm liquid ran down his arm once more.
And her first kiss wouldn't have been such a bad experience. He'd be the one to claim her lips and the one to protect her from nasty rumors. He'd show her how to dismiss opinions that didn't favor her spirits.
And her virgin lips would feel heavenly against his. They would be timid, coated with all the uncertainty that a first time would have. She would be nervous about her looks and she would think herself silly for putting on a different dress to get his attention. But he wouldn't care because he'd think she would always look lovely.
He felt his ankles also being tied up, placed together in a way that he was unable to move. He was covered in sweat, his teal skin was aching with bruises from the blows he had gotten and whenever he'd inhale he could smell the faint strawberry perfume that lingered on his skin.
He'd cup her cheeks adoringly and trail his hands down to mold her body against his. She wouldn't be scared at his forwardness because she'd have known him all her life. She would know that he had been in love with her since he realized what love was. His embrace would be gentle and familiar.
It would all happen at her prom dance; it was going to be a memorable night and not one that she'd choose to isolate herself from, to avoid the thoughts of not having a date. He'd be her date. He'd choose her, always. He would be there from day one. He would be there from the first Hug Time and he'd only leave when she'd fall asleep at night.
He wanted to be the one to make love to her.
He wanted to be the father of her children.
He felt himself being lifted once more and closed his eyes tightly. It was coming to an end. Several hands carried him towards a place where the sound of waves crashing against rocks grew louder. He quieted his mind and waited.
The next thing Branch felt was a ghostly kiss on his lips and the faint smell of her perfume seemed to envelope him in a kind spiritual embrace. He wasn't afraid. His stomach lurched when all the hands let him go at the same time.
He felt his body falling several feet. He hadn't had such dizzying experience in his whole - and brief - life. The air was knocked out of his lungs when he crashed against the surface of the water, feeling like a thousand knives had pierced his body.
It was too cold.
He kicked his legs and jerked his arms, but it was all futile. He couldn't breathe and the surface became distant as he sank deep into the dark ocean.
The last thing he saw before completely losing consciousness was the rippling reflexes of the moon dancing its victory through the water, and a trail of red blood that stained the crystalline depths.
END PART ONE