Disclaimer: I own nothing of Strange Magic. All belongs to George Lucas and the affiliated parties.

I only claim the storyline and OCs.

Chapter 1

The warmth of the fire seemed far away, like a candle in a dark hallway.

Bog stared at it, his eyes aching but not from looking into the light. He remained motionless, though, not so much following Dai's orders. More so a loss of the urge to do anything. He almost wondered if it was possible to stop breathing and still manage. Even so, breathing with shallow consistency was about the only thing he could do without exacerbating the pain.

It had settled.

The all-encompassing agony of having his wings almost entirely ripped off had died down to an ever-present ache that seemed to spiderweb through his spine and into his limbs, somehow causing damnear every joint in his body to ache with it. Even his wrists and ankles, his fingers and toes. Everything ached. And somehow, he was hot and cold at the same time. Hot on the inside, cold on the outside. The fire did not help any. It occupied his mind though. While he stayed awake, sitting, hunched forward in the chair that kept his wings stationary, yet refusing to sleep and get more rest as he was told.

Because the last thing he wanted was to be unconscious. Not at a time like this.

Even if he was now useless.

He took a deep breath, the pain in his wingbases flaring into a sharp point for just a moment then receding back into a throbbing ache as he let the air out. His eyes never left the fire. He made no other movement.

He just sat there. Wallowing.

Marianne would be back soon, hopefully. She was the only distraction that worked. And while he hated to admit it, he craved her gentle grasp around his hand, her soft fingers running up and down the back if his hand, or along the calluses of his own fingers. The motion and her touch were a pinpoint. It was something easier for him to focus on that made his mind forget about the ache.

He hated to admit that he, the Bog King, the hard-carapaced, thick-skinned, long-clawed, angry, vicious, and ever surviving leader of the Dark Forest wanted so badly the touch of his soft-skinned, just as angry, vivacious, talented, caring, bold and fiery feisty princess of the Green Meadows… but he would. Tens, hundreds, millions of times over, he would.

His mother was a close second.

But he had been told she cried herself to sleep. And he would rather her rest. He knew how much harder this was for her. As much pain as he was in physically, her anguish at seeing this all over again…

Bog took another unwise deep breath. Pain or no pain, he did not want to spiral. And even with the nature of this pain, he knew as well as anyone how to use it to clear the mind.

So, he sat, wallowing once more.

As such, the knock at his door would have had him jumping, but his body was too exhausted to jolt in surprise. Which he surmised was a good thing. He looked to the door, barely turning his head to see it opening a fraction.

Thang tilted his head in. "Hello, sire," he said quietly. With no admonishment or harsh words, he seemed to grow a little braver, and stepped in. "We brought you some snapdragon spice tea," he said with a hopeful note in his voice.

Bog stared. He had no words to say in response. His mind was drawing a blank and he could not seem to fish anything out of the pit that was now sunk into the base of his skull. His gaze faltered away, his eyes hitting the floor.

Thang turned and gestured. Stuff tottered in after him, carved wooden tray in hand, a cast pot, stone mug and saucer, and cream jar settled neatly on the surface. Thang quickly shut the door and hurried ahead of Stuff, both of them stopping a little way in front of him.

He watched without a word as Stuff sat the tray down on the ground. She poured the lily cream into the mug first, up to a third, then proceeded to pour the tea, filling the mug the rest of the way. It was just the way he liked it… on the occasion he did indulge in this treat. Thang then took the spoon from the linen napkin at the side and gave a quick stir. After placing the spoon back down, he picked up the mug and saucer, turned, gave a few sweeping glances over Bog's form, then suddenly turned back and put them back on the tray.

Through the fog of his mind, confusion sprinkled in as he watched Thang look around. The amphine then made an "Ah!" and padded to the wicker stool next to the fireplace. He pulled it from the side, then turned and pushed it towards Bog, stopping it within a foot or so of him, careful not to nudge either of the larger goblin's feet as he positioned it between his opened legs.

Bog blinked dumbly, his mind not yet comprehending what the little goblin was doing.

He felt comprehension failing him even further as he watched Thang ascend the stool, nimbly hopping to the top with a grace that was rather unexpected. Thang then turned back to Stuff and motioned her over. Stuff nodded, picked up the mug and saucer from the tray and walking to her companion. Thang knelt and carefully collected them both from her paws. He turned back to Bog and stood straighter, reaching the mug and saucer out with a hopeful smile.

His gaze drifted from Thang's pale blue-green eyes to the warm orangey liquid swirling in the mug. Several incomplete thoughts rushed him at the same time, but the cacophony of them all jumbling around and smashing into one another within his skull kept him from saying or doing anything.

"Ah, that's right," Thang suddenly said. He turned and waved at Stuff.

Bog was still looking at the tea, so he did not see what she was walking away to do until she came back with the napkin. Thang took it and held it in the main of his hand as he carefully gripped the handle of the mug and lifted it to his lips.

"I'll try to be careful, sire," Thang whispered.

Shock rang through his mind as he realized what Thang was attempting. He was still, trying to comprehend what to do, what to say. By rights, he felt he aught to be insulted. But logically, it would take a great effort to lift his arm. And Marianne had tried to do the same, though with water, and he had refused, quite moodily in fact. Thang and Stuff had not been in the room for that moment, however. Was that ignorance what made them so bold?

Or was it something else?

In the end, the smell of the tea and his dry throat coupled with his suddenly protesting stomach won out. He tilted his head forward ever so slightly, and Thang obliged, angling the cup and carefully touching the rim to his lips. True to his words, Thang was indeed being careful, showing far more stability than he remembered the amphine capable of. The perfectly warm tea, creamy and spicey at the same time, filled his mouth and his eyes drifted closed as he took a grateful swig. And then another. And another.

A sniffle caught his attention, and he opened his eyes… to see Thang sporting a sad smile and large wet eyes.

It was at that moment he realized: This was most certainly no slap in the face to his ability or his pride.

He stopped drinking as stinging ringed his own eyes, warm trails already making their way down his face. Thang met his gaze and his smile wavered before he put the mug back on the saucer. Then his tiny hand lifted the napkin and softly dabbed under his left eye and then his right.

"You do so much for us," Thang said in a small voice. "You take care of us."

Stuff's small fingers curled around his much larger ones, and he squeezed weakly.

"The least we can do is take care of you," Thang murmured.

Bog closed his eyes, more warm tears flowing down his face. He held to Stuff's hand and leaned forward into Thang's gentle touches. He was not sure why this was so unexpected or why it hit him so hard.

But it was so much more than he could have asked for.

"Thank you," he breathed, the words so faint, it was hard to tell he had said them at all.

There was a pause as Thang's hand moved away from his face.

"That was the quietest sneeze I've ever heard."

The tiny hand at his fingers was removed and a fleshy slap rang out into the room. He could practically feel Stuff shaking her head.

A smile came to his face. Which then broke into a grin. And then he was laughing, soft, muted, but laughing none-the-less. A snicker at his knee sounded as Stuff's hand returned to squeeze at his fingers. Thang's nasally giggles also joined the fray.

The pain was still there.

But it stung a little less.

XoXoX

The castle was secured.

Each entrance had three times more guards than average. Civilians were safe in their protected areas. Everyone able was armed and ready.

Marianne took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was now a waiting game.

She was not good at waiting.

Walking down the halls towards the royal chambers, her thoughts wondered back to Bog. He was now awake and talking. But he was not doing well. Which was to be expected. But it was hard to see him, normally stronger and more resilient than everyone else around him, now confined to a chair and barely able to move even an inch for fear of excruciating pain. And while it had only been the better part of a couple hours since the injury, she was less hopeful than she wanted to be about how well he would heal.

He admitted to her that he could feel nothing beyond the pain at his wing stalks. She could only hope that it was simply too soon. That the pain was just too immense to feel through. But she knew it was a far higher likelihood that he literally could feel nothing in his top wings. And if that was the case… then trying to save them would be pointless.

She shook her head, trying to clear her head of the depressing thoughts. Certainly, it was too soon to tell for sure?

Marianne rounded the corner and promptly stopped short. Griselda was awake. And Elder Aguun was also awake. And they were in the hallway. And Aguun was holding Griselda's face tenderly and kissing her on her forehead.

Heat jumped into her cheeks, and she averted her eyes, wondering if maybe she should back away. Though, she was not sure hiding around the corner like a skittish child would be the best idea.

"Princess."

She jolted lightly, her eyes darting back to see Aguun walking towards her. His scarred face held a soft expression and he nodded back behind him, gesturing with his arm. She looked to see Griselda clasping her hands at her front, a sad smile on her face. She took the hint and started forward, sharing an empathetic glance with the elder. When she got to Griselda, the queen mother had barely a breath to say anything before she was on her knees and hugging her close. "Oh, Griselda."

Tiny arms wrapped around her waist and the older woman leaned into her without hesitation. "Hello, leannan," she mumbled, her voice raw. "How are you?"

Marianne could not help a smile despite the stinging in her eyes. "Don't ask me, I'm fine." She leaned back, but still kept a possessive hold. "Are you alright?" A flinch escaped her, but Griselda beat her to it before she could go back on the question.

"I'm better, dear," she answered softly, that sad smile still on her face. "But I'll only be back in fine shape when we see my boy up and around again." She then loosed an arm to flick Marianne's shoulder. "And don't lie to me. A mother always knows," she snarked.

Marianne let out a small laugh and her head drooped. "Yeah… My answer is the same as yours," she said softly. "I just want to see him better."

Griselda nodded and squeezed her arm gently. "Yeah."

Marianne felt a possessiveness overcome her and gripped her close again. She inhaled deeply, the spicy, earthy scent in Griselda's hair so similar but different from Bog's.

"Did he ever tell you?"

Marianne went still but shook her head. Her suspicions were confirmed with Griselda's next words.

"His father… the Brawn King. That was how he died."

She kept her lips sealed, waiting patiently.

"The war started when the purebloods raided the castle in the night. They caught everyone off guard, Brawn and Bog included. They tortured us in the atrium, forced us to watch what they did to each of us," Griselda recounted quietly. "They started with Bog, clawing lines into his face from his eyes. Punishment, they said. For tainting one of their own with his desires. Then broke off my horns in front of them, cracked my arm and my back in the process. They saved Brawn for last." Her words faded and her grip around Marianne's waist grew tighter. "They started to pull his wings out. They were far less clean about it. Ripping at his back plates before snapping the stalks to the side," she whispered. "They weren't able to finish. Eida and the others finally broke through their line."

"Eida," Marianne breathed without thinking.

Griselda let out a soft laugh at that. "Yes. I see he's told you of her."

"Yeah. Not much."

Griselda nodded. "No. He wouldn't." She let out another soft laugh. "For as much as I hated her, she proved herself a hundred times over not to be worthy of it."

Marianne bit her lip. "Oh?"

"Oh yes. That woman fought like a beast, she, and her whole band. They tore those bastards to shreds. But not before too many of them got away. With Brawn." She sighed. "Eida and Bog led the rescue. The purebloods lit half their site ablaze just to stop them. But they succeeded. Mostly."

Marianne waited, running her thumb over Griselda's shoulder in a soothing motion.

"Eida took the hit that would've killed Bog."

Tears sprang to life near instantly. Why, she was not entirely sure. Maybe it was the ingrained memory of Bog's reaction. Maybe it was the blatant recount of Bog's near death. Maybe it was more. Regardless of reason, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, allowing Griselda's words to continue the story.

"He told me how she wouldn't let him save her, told him to run. And run they did, leaving behind Eida and the others who fell. And when they got Brawn back to me, I cried. Not just over what those wretches did to him… but for the fact I would never be able to tell her how sorry I was." Griselda stopped, sniffing loudly as she removed a hand to wipe at her face. "In the end, Brawn died two days after they got him back. There was nothing we could do. His wings gone, his wounds purposely dirtied and made worse so they would become infected… His last days were far more painful than he ever deserved." She shook her head, finally moving to detach from Marianne. "I just don't want the same thing to happen to my boy," she whispered, pulling a cloth from her pocket, and burying her face in it.

"It won't." Marianne gripped her shoulders and thanked the heavens her voice came out stronger than she felt. "We aren't going to let that happen. Not again."

Griselda looked up at her, golden yellow eyes wide and bloodshot, and smiled. "You really are good for him, you know that."

Marianne stalled at the sudden comment but smiled back. "I hope so."

Griselda patted her hand and made to turn. "And I know so, leannan. Now, let's go see how he is."

She remained stationary for only a moment before standing to walk with her. The few seconds of silence were chased by sharp anxiety as Marianne looked to the doors of Bog's chambers and saw a guard missing. "Where's Brutus?" she asked quickly. Before she could panic, Bokah and Bone came to attention.

"He's inside," Bokah answered simply.

Marianne and Griselda shared a glance before gesturing for them to open the doors. And the sight that greeted them left them frozen at the threshold.

Stuff, Thang, and Brutus were in the room with Bog. Brutus was sat near the foot of the bed, sorting through scrolls and books, a small pile of what appeared to be maps closest to Bog. Between Bog's feet sat Thang, holding up a large multi-scroll, several scrolls sewn together at the end. He was dutifully holding down a roll that depicted a map of the marshes while Bog looked on intently. Stuff was situated at Bog's left, sitting on the wicker stool, with another at her side holding a tray filled with tea stuffs, berry slices, seeds and nuts, while in her hand she held a cup that had chopped up snapdragon petals in it. She too was looking at the map but made no moves from Bog's side.

As the silence continued, all four of them soon looked to the doorway, wide-eyed and curious.

"Hey," Bog said simply, brows raised as he looked at the two women from the corners of his eyes.

A laugh escaped her before she could stop herself. "You're looking like you feel better," Marianne ventured, failing horribly at containing a smile.

Bog's expression softened and his lips quirked. "A little." He tilted his hand and gestured his fingers. "You're just in time. I think I have an idea."

"Oh?" Griselda chirped, patting Marianne's leg to goad her in, "Is your head gonna survive it?"

Bog rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Mother."

"Well, someone's gotta make some jokes around here! We can't be doom and gloom all the time."

"Maybe I like doom and gloom."

"Oh, I have a feisty fairy princess right here who might beg to differ."

Marianne raised her hands. "Nope. I'm staying out of it!"

"No fair!"

"HA! Quick learner, this one!"

XoXoX

Smoke wafted through the air. From hazy, barely there clouds to trails snaking around making intricate paths, the smooth-scented essence permeated the room. Funny how he suddenly liked it so much when he never had before. Well, never had the option, he corrected himself.

Roland took a deep breath, letting himself enjoy the smell. With the castle locked down and what everyone was afraid to be an inevitable siege on the way, he figured every little nicety counted. He was sure that was what Chae was thinking as well.

The Silver-Scale had been strangely inviting when he had followed her to one of the common rooms. Why he had felt the need to be within proximity of her, he was unsure. But she did not seem to mind. She even seemed insistent of it, considering her pointed glance when he had waited outside the entryway second guessing himself. Now they both sat in the large mossy chairs, for the better part of an hour, in strangely comfortable silence. She was on a third bowl of her pipe, and he was enjoying the smell.

And thinking.

He knew what he was getting into when he left his dingy dock room to sneak back into Green Meadows. He knew things were probably going to get bad considering the situation at hand. But seeing the Bog King crumpled to the floor with his wings near broken off was not something he had prepared himself for. Seeing Marianne's reaction had been even harder.

He never wanted to see that look of total devastation on her face ever again.

She was her father's daughter. He had seen enough to know this much. She had bested him twice, stood up to Bog in a one-on-one spar with no previous knowledge of his fighting style or skill, honed herself into a good and proper soldier within a year to accomplish those feats… but she was still inexperienced.

And so was he.

Neither of them had seen real battle. Sure, he had been privy to some small disputes here and there, but nothing that truly put his life on the line. And this was Marianne's first real dive into proper combat. Yes, she had gone against him, and yes, she had sparred with Bog, but neither of them had wanted to do her true bodily harm. This was different.

And he could only hope that they would both be able to stand their ground.

"Thi'n real 'ard now, eh?"

Roland froze in his seat but immediately relaxed as he turned his gaze to those light brown eyes ringed in green. She was watching him with a blank expression, pipe end nestled between her lips. He huffed and let his head lay down to the back of the chair. "Yeah," he admitted.

She nodded, looking away and taking in a puff. "Me too," she said, smoke following her words.

He took another deep breath, still watching her. He then tilted his head, a thought occurring to him. "Do you know how to fight?" The smoke stopped flowing, signaling her halted breath. He waited patiently, suspecting he already knew the answer.

"Naw like ye."

He raised a brow, finding that rather unexpected. Thinking about her life up until now, he had a feeling he knew what she meant. "When push comes to shove," he muttered.

"Ye fight dir'y or naw at all," she said quietly.

Roland nodded at that, rolling his head to look at the ceiling. "I'll give you that."

"Ye thin' I'll 'ave teh?"

It was his turn to stop breathing a moment, thinking over how best to respond. He decided straight and to the point was probably for the best. "Yeah," he caved. "I think so."

Silence spread back into the room, broken only by another drag on the pipe and another exhale of smoke.

"Good. 'Bou' time I did."

"You did a different kind of fighting," he said without thinking.

Their eyes met again, and they held each other's gaze for a few moments.

Chae nodded slowly, her own head leaning back against the moss to match his. "Yeah," she said simply.

"There you two are!"

They both jolted in their seats and whipped around to see Marianne in the doorway looking frenzied.

"Uh-"

"Wha' ye-"

"Come on, follow me," Marianne shot, waving them towards her.

They glanced to each other then back to her, wide-eyed.

"Oh?" Roland managed.

"Oh yeah," Marianne answered, grinning, a gleam in her eyes. "We have a plan. And it involves both of you."

XxXxX

Note: Leannan is Scots Gaelic for "sweetheart"

Thank you for the read. Have a good day or night and a wonderful time~*