Chapter 3/Thirteen Months Left
Marianne doesn't bother restraining her snarl as she walks briskly down the corridors of her castle, caring not a whit as the other occupants rapidly flee before her. Even Imp didn't escape her surly mood as he runs after her in an attempt to keep up.
She's starting to believe that this day is the truly cursed one. It was such a nice morning, too!
"Your...Your Majesty! Please...please wait!" Felix pants, struggling to keep up. "The peasant...he isn't...in the antechamber!"
"What?!" Marianne growls, stopping to look back at the running steward.
"He...he demanded to be shown...shown where his mother was and...well...," Felix starts before trailing off.
"A particular someone ignored your pleas about protocol and showed him to the dungeons," Marianne continues.
The cringe and timid nod confirm her guess, and she growls loudly before pulling a nearby window open and jumping into the late afternoon air. Cool air wraps around her wings as she glides smoothly around her home to the castle's highest tower, snarling once more as she catches sight of the new growth along the walls. She isn't surprised to notice one of the tower's windows being opened as she approaches, and she takes a deep breath to calm herself as she positions herself to land through the window.
Marianne nods slightly to her father's transformed figure before turning to glare at the tall man clutching the bars of the cell her former guest resides in and her tiny sister perched on his shoulder.
"Crown Princess Dawn! There are rules and protocols to follow! You cannot just ignore them because of a boy!" Marianne reprimands.
"Don't be so cruel, Marianne," Dawn chides. "Boggy came all this way to see his mother and it would have been ages before that happened with Felix having to get you."
"My name is Bog, Your Highness," the peasant corrects with strained patience before returning Marianne's glare.
The growl rising in her throat at the bold silent threat is silenced and she has to cough down a laugh when Griselda reaches through the bars to slam her fist into her taller son's hip hard enough to make him stumble.
"Bog! I raised you better than that! Show respect to the queen!" Griselda growls.
"She threw you into the dungeon. The dungeon! And over a flower!" Bog yells, now glaring at his glaring mother.
"That doesn't make a difference," Griselda huffs. "You will show the queen respect or not even these bars will be able to save you!"
Marianne watches in concealed amusement as the man flinches and seems to shrink in front of the smaller woman. She was right in her earlier assumption about the peasant's formidableness. It's such a pity they had to end their visit on such harsh terms.
"My sincerest apologies for my disrespect, Your Majesty," Bog grits through his teeth as he performs a perfect bow.
An obvious lie...except that it's not, and Marianne narrows her eyes in confusion. Though his attitude and stilted formalness suggest otherwise, her gift tells another story, confirming his apology as real. Here she thought Griselda was a curious being. The brilliant blue eyes rising to stare determinedly into hers announce that the mother was only just the beginning.
"But I must protest," Bog continues firmly. "My mother does not belong in the dungeon, and you have wrongfully imprisoned her."
"She was justly imprisoned over a crime she committed," Marianne states.
"Forgive my crudeness, Your Majesty, but who throws someone into the dungeon over picking a flower, and a simple primrose at that?" Bog questions harshly. "It did no harm to you or the royal family."
"No harm?!" Marianne screeches, snarling violently. "You know nothing! Nothing!"
Forgoing her usual sense in her fury, Marianne stalks forward to grab the peasant's arm and drags him to the window she flew in, ignoring her sister's cry when she's dislodged from her perch. She easily tucks the startled slightly-shorter-than-her man against her side and jumps out into the air. Normally she'd stop to think before doing something so drastic, but she doesn't think, she can only feel the anger, the anger born from the pain, boiling just beneath the surface.
Her wings keep them both aloft and she unconsciously tightens her grip around the peasant's slim waist at his gasp as she flies them toward the scene of this morning's crime. Landing in the garden, Marianne turns them both to face the castle walls and gestures toward the vines growing up it, paying little attention to how Bog doesn't distance himself from her.
"Does this look like no harm to you?!" Marianne asks furiously.
"It looks fine to me," Bog huffs. "One single flower didn't make any difference with how many you have around the entire castle."
"That's the whole point! There isn't supposed to be that many!" Marianne growls in frustration. "These are enchanted primroses, something that should be obvious considering their unusual growth, and they don't die. For every flower plucked, a hundred more grow in its place, and thanks to your mother, the last mostly clean wall is now covered with these wretched flowers!"
"How many flowers did you have in the beginning?" Bog questions uneasily, gawking at the blanket of flowers covering the castle.
"It started with just one of these cursed flowers growing in the castle courtyard and forbidding anyone from plucking another flower was the only way to stop this madness from spreading further," Marianne answers before huffing. "Do you have any idea how frustratingly furious it is to meet a sensible human being, and then they do the one thing that creates chaos in your life?!"
Marianne snarls and bares her teeth in her anger when the peasant beside her starts laughing softly. Turning to unleash her fury, she pauses at the soft sheepish smile adorning his sharp face as he scratches the back of his head with his right hand.
Oh.
Griselda wasn't exaggerating about her son's smile.
Oh no.
"That's my mother alright," Bog chuckles. "But she really means no harm and wouldn't have done it if she had known the trouble it would cause. Can't you forgive her trespass, Your Majesty?"
"I can't just renege on my word because of your mother's ignorance of the matter. The crime has been committed and it would be an injustice if I were to let her go before the punishment was met," Marianne states. "Would you have me mock the other residents of the castle who have been slighted by this as much as I?"
"Surely something else can be done. Another kind of punishment. Please, Your Majesty," Bog pleads. "My mother will not do well confined to the dungeon."
Sighing softly, Marianne turns from the pleading man and faces the royal garden. Truly, she thought the dungeon sentence was too harsh, even for such a crime, but it had been the only way to stop the witch's flower from spreading. Those that thought the flowers had been a funny matter in the beginning had feared nothing else. To change her edict now, though, would only encourage traitorous words to keep spreading.
"As Griselda of Glenndale did not know of the royal decree when she committed the crime, I can lessen her punishment to allow her freedom from the dungeon. But she shall still be imprisoned within the castle grounds until the sentence is served," Marianne announces.
"How long is the sentence?" Bog asks.
"Until the primroses die," Marianne answers.
"You just said these primroses don't die," Bog points out, moving to stand in front of her.
"They will die in thirteen months. Until then, your mother shall be forbidden to leave the castle grounds," Marianne explains.
"But she can't!" Bog groans. "You don't understand. She has to be at home! It's..."
"Your father?" Marianne guesses when he quiets suddenly.
A sharp nod is all she gets in response, and she watches as he clenches his fists, her ears catching the sound of faint growling. He was far more expressive than his mother but also more reserved than her. Such a strange peasant.
"Take me instead," Bog orders suddenly.
"What?" Marianne mutters.
"Take me instead," Bog repeats firmly. "Allow me to take my mother's punishment. Surely that can be allowed since the punishment for the crime will still be met."
"You wish to take your mother's place of imprisonment for the next thirteen months?" Marianne questions.
"Yes!" Bog insists.
She's far too shocked to hide her surprise at the request. Such a thing was lawful in certain cases and there wasn't anything that would suggest otherwise for this. But she had never heard of anyone being willing to do it! At least, not without the one who committed the crime begging their substitute and never for such a lengthy imprisonment.
As if she needs another surprise, Marianne can only watch as the man reaches out to grasp the clawed fingers of both her hands in his and bows before her with his forehead touching the back of her hands. There really is more to this pair than meets the eyes.
"Please, Your Majesty, allow this mercy and let my mother go home!" Bog pleads loudly.
"Clever boy," Marianne murmurs, smirking as she feels his mouth move into a grin. "I would have hardly refused such a request. You didn't need to take such measures by enacting a nearly forgotten age-old custom."
"I figure that if the matter is more to keep from losing the respect of your subjects for being overly lenient, then I shall allow you to pass sentence without such a fear," Bog explains quietly. "Surely this can permit you, Your Majesty, to be as gracious as you were when you assured my mother that you would follow through with what you promised her, despite her crime."
Very clever boy.
Movement from the corner of her eyes catches her attention and she resists the urge to growl as she finally notices their eavesdroppers. Seems most of the castle had come to see the spectacle, some staying safely inside the stone walls and peering out the windows, while others bravely peeking through the flowers and hedges.
Strange that Bog had noticed them before she did, though.
"I shall grant this mercy," Marianne announces, allowing Bog to turn her hands over to kiss the calloused scaley palms and desperately resisting the resulting shiver. "Griselda of Glenndale shall be released of her imprisonment of thirteen months under the provision that Bog of Glenndale fulfills her punishment of the prescribed time. Be warned. Should you not carry out the terms required, then both you and your mother shall be punished most severely."
"I understand. Thank you, Your Majesty, for your gracious generosity," Bog praises, rising from his bow and releasing her hands.