Chapter 8/Week Thirteen/Ten Months Left
Chipper chitters nervously from the glade's edge, but Bog pays him no mind as he sits down along the stream's bank, staring pensively at the ancient tree before him. Thang had once told him that the tree's decrepit look was only glamour and that it was magnificent to behold once you crossed the portal to see its true form, a glorious castle fit for the king of the goblins. His father's servant had regaled him with stories about the splendor of the goblin kingdom since he was a toddler and educated him on all the subjects dwelling within. He knew the names and family of each high-ranking and low-ranking noble within the goblin king's court, could cite each crucial law of the goblin kingdom, speak fluently in the goblin language, and could even sing every goblin song that Thang knew of.
And yet, he had never even seen another goblin except for Thang and Stuff. He could faintly remember seeing steel blue eyes in a sharp visage once when he'd woken up in the middle of the night back when he was very young, but his father never approached him and disappeared by the time he became alert enough to realize someone was in the room. It was a disappointment that grew into resentment for his sire the older he became.
It didn't help that Glenndale's other inhabitants used his absent father as a regular taunt, both children and adults openly voicing their opinions on his mother's situation, with him unable to defend her honor. There were many times he detested his parents' bargain as he grew up. None more so than the day Plum arrived in the village.
Clenching his fists, Bog tries to summon his magic and sighs roughly when it still refuses his call. Soft fluttering catches his attention, and he quickly unclenches his fists before turning his attention to the glade's edge to watch Marianne enter the glade after Imp jumps from her shoulder to wait anxiously on top of Chipper's head.
"I had thought that you would have been visiting your mother today," Marianne mentions softly, landing beside him.
"I don't want to risk your mercy as being taken for something else if I were to visit too many times," Bog comments cautiously.
"Is that why you only escape into the Dark Forest whenever I'm not at the castle?" Marianne questions.
"I am your prisoner," Bog reminds, giving her a small smile before returning his attention to the tree. "It wouldn't be right to escape the punishment I chose by doing something I enjoy. At least, too many times, anyway."
"Such silly reasonings from such a clever boy," Marianne teases. "I assure you, had your mother stayed my prisoner, she would have no doubt been freed within the first month by many petitions from those inside the castle. The only reason they're not petitioning for your freedom should be obvious."
"And if Her Majesty could've done as she pleased? What then would have happened thirteen weeks ago?" Bog asks.
"Had your mother been of any other sort, I may not have been so lenient. After all, I did grant her request and more, only for her to steal a flower from my garden on her departure, a cursed flower at that," Marianne comments. "However, I surely would have let her go free by morning. Even in my anger, I knew that she had meant no disrespect and had only been taken by the flower's beauty as she claimed."
"Then maybe my reasonings aren't so silly if even you are being careful not to give others a reason to talk more than they already are," Bog counters solemnly.
Bog groans inwardly at his rash words when Marianne's eyes harden into amber stone. He just had to ruin her rare jovial mood with his own present pessimism, didn't he?
He jolts in surprise when she moves to sit beside him and lets her bare clawed feet join his in the stream's cool waters.
"Your concern for how my subjects view me is appreciated. But, I fear, it is unnecessary," Marianne murmurs. "They already deemed me an unfit monarch the day I was crowned. Sugar Plum only reinforced their belief."
"That's ridiculous!" Bog shouts before quickly continuing at her shocked look. "Not you, of course! I mean about them thinking you're an unfit monarch. In the seventeen months that you've been queen, you've done more than the past three monarchs did for each of their first three years, and you've been cursed for fifteen of those months, shouldering the brunt of the kingdom on yourself with most of the royal court being trapped within the castle grounds. Nothing could have stopped you from just leaving the castle, appointing a new un-cursed royal court, and letting the others to their fate alone. They should be grateful you didn't."
"So that's why you came here. You've heard the newest talk," Marianne sighs.
The reminder causes Bog to clench his fist again as he growls out a series of curses in goblin under his breath, demanding his magic to respond to him. It was another reason he didn't risk going to visit his mother. He'd be tempted to coerce Stuff into performing a few tricks against several nobles within the kingdom. The gobliness would only be too happy to comply.
It's not like he means to eavesdrop on the conversations of others, but he was a half-goblin that inherited their incredible hearing ability. Which, unfortunately, meant that he heard a great deal of things that he wished he didn't.
"It's wrong for them to blame you for this whole mess. All their talk of love being how to break Plum's curse and they're not even concerned that all their scheming to force suitors on you isn't how love happens. You can't force it! Love doesn't work like that and if it does, it isn't real love!" Bog growls.
"Sugar Plum's curse doesn't necessarily require real lo...the real thing. That wasn't the terms she set," Marianne explains, laying a clawed hand over his clenched fist.
Bog blinks when his surroundings suddenly change. One minute he was in the Dark Forest and now he's back in the castle. Inside the Great Hall, if he's not mistaken. But something doesn't seem right about it. He yelps when a normal-sized Princess Dawn walks through him and he can't help panicking when he notices that he's transparent.
How did this happen?!
Looking around frantically, he gapes in astonishment as he watches human courtiers and servants bow as an un-cursed Marianne walks into the Great Hall. It's only then that he notices Plum standing before the throne.
"Greetings, o queen," the glamoured Plum twitters as she curtsies. "I am Sugar Plum, maker of potions, charms, and spells. An expert in all things love and very delighted to be of assistance to you."
"I have no need of your services, madam," Marianne answers calmly. "What other business do you have with me?"
"O dear queen, everyone is in need of my services," Plum giggles. "I've heard a great deal of talk that you, of all people, need me the most. So, I've come bearing a valuable gift that I'm offering to you for free. This is an enchanted primrose. With it, you will be able to experience love..."
"Enough!" Marianne states firmly. "I have already told you that I have no need of your services. If you have no other business with me, then seek out another who may desire your expertise."
"You dare refuse my gift! You foolish child!" Plum screeches, crushing the primrose flower between her fist. "Your heart truly is the hardened stone that was told to me! Such ones as you who play with the love of others do not deserve pity!"
Bog can only watch in horror as Plum throws her hand into Marianne's direction, tattered petals and pink dust falling upon the shocked woman.
"But I am not without mercy," Plum continues with a smirk, her low voice resounding throughout the large room. "This curse will show you the errors of your way. Five months to a petal for twenty-five months in all is how long this spell shall keep its hold and you shall take the form befitting your hard and unfeeling heart, o goblin-hearted one. Only you shall have leave of these cursed grounds and you shall watch your subjects suffer for your heartlessness, knowing it is all your fault that they must despair so. When at last you humble yourself and announce love to another, then the curse will be broken. But should you not before the last month ends, this curse will be eternal, and you'll only have yourself to blame!"
"Bog!" Marianne yells, shaking him with the hand on his shoulder.
Bog shakes his head and blinks as the vision clears from before his eyes. He gives a small smile to the worried woman beside him before rubbing his hands along his lean face, forcing the tension to leave him.
"Bog, what happened? Are you alright?" Marianne asks.
"I'm fine. A bit of errant magic, I think," Bog murmurs, removing his hands from his face to look at them.
"Errant magic? I was going to explain what Sugar Plum said when she placed the curse, but you became as if you had fallen asleep with your eyes open," Marianne mentions.
"I saw a vision of the moment Plum cursed you," Bog explains. "With you thinking about that day, you must have projected it when you touched my hands. Magic can do that sometimes. It happened to me once before when Thang touched me during my lessons to control my magic."
"But I've touched you plenty of times before," Marianne points out.
"I wasn't trying to call my magic forth before," Bog counters, clenching his fists again in front of her to allow her to see the faint shimmer around them before relaxing them. "I thought I might be able to force the portal open, or at least send a distress signal through that would get an answer from the other side, but...but it's not working. Plum...she blocked my magic from me when I confronted her about what she told Angelina."
"That was the curse you told me about?" Marianne questions, getting a nod. "I'd like to hear the story, if you don't mind telling it."
"Since you know what I am, I can tell you that Plum told Angelina that I was a...well, you know, and that my love for her was dishonest since I hadn't told her. That I was deliberately deceiving her by tricking her into falling in love with a false me," Bog murmurs. "Angelina came to me right after, completely believing Plum that I was what she claimed, and I saw no reason to deny it, though I had denied Plum's accusation about me tricking her.
"I'm...I'm not allowed to tell anyone, anyone at all, about my father and my heritage. One of my father's rules. But I was heartbroken over Angelina's anger and, hoping she'd realize that I would have told her if I was allowed, I told her the truth about me being the result of a bargain between my parents. She was, understandably, horrified and ran off screaming."
"It's not that understandable for such an overreaction," Marianne mutters.
Bog's lips twitch into a small smile at the softly spoken words that were not meant for him to hear. A goblin's hearing was sometimes very useful.
"It was fortunate Thang had been nearby and used some of his magic to change what Angelina could remember of what I told her. But I hadn't known it at the time because I was so heartbroken and angry that I immediately went to confront Plum," Bog continues, shaking his head at his foolishness. "It was a foolish thing to do. How could an eighteen-year-old halfling stand up against an elder full-blood? We got into an argument and the next thing I know, it felt like the world was draining away from me and the last thing I could remember was her saying that it was my own fault and I'll soon learn the errors of my way. When I woke that evening in my bed where Thang put me after he found me, I couldn't bring forth my magic anymore, which is very...distressing for a...a goblin to experience."
"Was your father told?" Marianne asks.
"From what my mother said after I awoke, Thang had been searching for me after making sure Angelina wouldn't remember what I said about being a goblin's child from a bargain and found me unconscious with traces of Plum's magic on me. He immediately brought me home and told Stuff, who then went into the fae domain to tell my father what Thang had overheard from my conversation with Angelina and that Plum had cast a spell on me. From there no one really knows what happened, just that my father told Stuff to return to the house to guard Mother and I, and that he'll deal with the matter," Bog explains. "They felt the portal being closed right after Stuff came through shortly after mid-day, so my father must have told the goblin king about what happened."
"The portal was closed by mid-day? Then I wonder what Sugar Plum was doing the whole time until she came to the castle near evening," Marianne comments.
"You...ah...you don't want to know," Bog mutters before wincing at Marianne's sharp look and silent demand. "Thang had gone after her once he got me home and found her...preoccupied with...with your former suitor."
"Son-of-a...," Marianne starts to growl before stopping herself. "That explains what she meant about what she heard of me, that little fairy strumpet."
He can't stop the laughter that bubbles out of him. It didn't help that Marianne had gestured with her hands as if to strangle the mentioned fairy and crossed her arms with a pout adorning her face at the end of her curse. This had to be the most expressive he's ever seen her, even over the past three weeks.
"You'll not repeat a word of what I just said to anyone," Marianne orders dryly.
"Of course not," Bog chuckles. "Didn't we agree three weeks ago that anything either of us talked about outside the castle walls was to be held in confidence?"
Marianne leans her head slightly toward him and he reciprocates the gesture, being careful of her horns as he gently pushes against the top of her forehead with his own. He rewards her blush with a smile before pulling back as a blush rises to his own face.
It seemed silly that a harmless gesture Thang had taught him could fluster him like this. It was just a goblin's version of a handshake, after all, nothing untoward, and yet, it felt like so much more when he did it with her.
Maybe it had been a bad idea to explain it to Marianne when they had ended their visit with his mother and she had noticed Thang and Stuff doing the gesture. They probably shouldn't have tried it themselves, either. And they definitely shouldn't have kept doing the harmless gesture every time Marianne joined him in the Dark Forest after finishing her duties. It's just that since that day Marianne overheard the truth about his father, they started talking more than they had before, and it felt like the perfect way to affirm their agreed secrecy.
Something innocent to seal a pact of silence between them, but it left them both feeling...something better left unthought of. Bad enough that he started dreaming things that he shouldn't even think of.
Bog shakes his head to dispel his musing. He definitely didn't need to be thinking of such things right now. The present silence between them was tense enough and he did not need to accidentally voice those kinds of thoughts.
"What were you like before all this happened? I mean, before the curse and the kingdom became a burden to you," Bog clarifies.
"Naive," Marianne huffs before sighing and splashing water into the air with one foot. "Sir Roland wasn't my choice of suitor."
"He wasn't? But what about...I mean, you looked enamored with him the one time I had seen you traveling through Glenndale several days before the wedding," Bog points out.
"And I was, at the time," Marianne admits. "Not many know this, but I had no choice in the matter. The former queen, my mother, betrothed me to Sir Roland just before her death. Oh, don't look so scandalized, Bog. You're learned enough to know it's common practice to betroth noble children at a young age."
"You would have been ten years old at the time, and I know for a fact that Sir Roland is fourteen years your elder," Bog mutters sourly. "I also know that he would have still been married to your mother's younger sister at the time of the betrothal."
"Most of the kingdom have forgotten that last part. Surely, you haven't forgotten the former queen's edict concerning the exiled one?" Marianne questions.
"Surely, by now, you realize his first wife had good reason to run away, even running to an enemy of this kingdom?" Bog counters, smirking at the resulting laughter.
"I will not admit to entertaining such thoughts," Marianne chuckles before sobering. "Although, I will admit to falling prey to Sir Roland's honeyed tongue in the eight years until I was officially crowned queen. My father had barely managed to halt my immediate marriage to him after the betrothal, for a myriad of reasons that concerned the kingdom's affairs, but I had known that such a thing was inevitable, with the wedding already planned for the day of my eighteenth birthday. I had fancied myself in lo...very fond of Sir Roland by the beginning of two years ago, believing nearly every word he spoke, so you weren't mistaken in your belief of my...delight for him. The day of the wedding, the day I became queen, I realized how much a fool I was. Not just concerning Sir Roland, but everything."
"You don't have to tell me what happened," Bog reassures when she pauses too long to stare into the cool waters before them.
"One story of heartbreak deserves another," Marianne quips humorlessly. "I had ignored protocol and taken a shortcut to his family estate through the Dark Forest to offer my groom a gift to wear to the ceremony. Going through the forest was not only the fastest but it also caused Imp and I to be alone, as no one would follow us because of their fear of the fae."
"You weren't afraid of the forest, even then?" Bog chuckles in surprise.
"To the horror of the castle inhabitants, no, I was never afraid of the forest or its inhabitants. Though, I usually only traveled on the edges so as not to show disrespect," Marianne mentions. "I hadn't crossed paths with anyone that day and came upon my destination far sooner than I expected, catching my groom...in a state that was most unfitting for the morning of his own wedding to another woman."
Only Marianne's waved hand keeps Bog from voicing his rage at the picture her words painted. Knowing the licentious nobleman, he's sure that what she had the misfortune of stumbling upon was more descriptive than what she carefully spoke of.
"I wasn't so naive to have thought that he had restrained himself in the eight years of our betrothal. He was formerly married, after all, and as you've already mentioned, fourteen years my elder," Marianne comments. "But I had believed him when he spoke such pretty words of lo...affection, vowing fidelity to me when I announced my agreement to our betrothal shortly after my seventeenth birthday. His words to his...companion, spoke otherwise. He was too preoccupied to notice my nearby presence and I hastened Imp back into the forest with no one being the wiser for what I'd seen and overheard. I vowed that day, my very life as the guarantee, that I would never again allow myself to be swayed by false respect that covered contempt, or flattering words that concealed self-serving motives, or pretty words that were lies to disguise the truth."
The silence that falls upon them is heavier than before and Bog stares pensively into the stream at their underwater feet. He could faintly hear Chipper and Imp speaking to each other in chitters, but it seemed a greater distance than it truly was.
He had known Roland was a disreputable cad, though that opinion was not shared by any other Glenndale resident except those that Bog had lived with. But even he didn't think the wastrel had done something of that nature until after the canceled wedding. It's no wonder at all that Marianne had returned to the castle and refused her predetermined marriage that was to take place before her coronation.
"How did you manage to call off the betrothal? I mean, not much was known throughout the villages except that you had canceled the wedding, nothing about the reason why. Except for Sir Roland's version, of course," Bog amends.
"I saw no need to tell anyone that I had made the whole journey to Sir Roland's family estate. Instead, I merely told them that I had come across a goblin within the forest who spoke a warning and that I would not marry. That alone caused compliance," Marianne answers.
Bog starts to nod in understanding before looking at her sharply. Her words were far too truthful. Too truthful to hold any semblance of a lie. Coupled with her vow and what he remembered from his lessons concerning making a bargain, there was only one explanation.
"You made the bargain that day, didn't you?" Bog asks quietly, grimacing when she winces. "Stuff said the bargain magic was over your heart, which means it's a powerful bargain, isn't it? A bargain that has an equally high price?"
"I can't tell you, Bog, you know that," Marianne murmurs before turning her head to give him a sad smile. "But I can tell you that thanks to Sugar Plum's curse, when the primroses die in ten months, so will I."
"Not if the goblin you made the bargain with can contest Plum's challenge to their contract and force her to remove her curse," Bog states firmly. "I just have to get my magic to respond enough to disturb the seal on the portal and this will all be fixed."
"Couldn't Thang or Stuff do this?" Marianne questions.
"They wouldn't dare incur His Majesty's wrath unless it was an absolute emergency. I'd probably be punished for it, since doing this isn't permitted, but at least it wouldn't cause my father to suffer a loss of respect in the royal court like he would if they tried it themselves," Bog answers, clenching his fist as he concentrates on his magic again.
Bog gasps as his surroundings suddenly change once more. That's strange. He's sure Marianne hadn't touched him again. He's still in the Dark Forest, except it's not as deep within as the glamoured castle. He's just near the edges with a large manor a short distance farther away.
A harsh nicker catches his attention, and he turns to see a brown and white stallion tied to a tree within the forest, its preoccupied rider's present nearby activities are thankfully mostly concealed by his lover's skirt. Unfortunately, not even the surrounding foliage could spare Bog from the horror of glimpsing Roland's naked buttocks.
The view is blessedly brief, as Bog is yanked away from the scene to fly through the forest behind a galloping white stallion, its wedding dress-clad rider clinging to him with heartbreaking sobs. He can only watch as Marianne spurs the horse deeper into the forest as she cries out the pain in her heart before crying out from physical pain when Imp stops suddenly, and she is thrown into a misty glade by the momentum to land next to the stream in front of the ancient tree.
"Imp!" Marianne cries in anguish.
Bog watches as the tree shimmers slightly and he tenses as a figure starts to appear. But before he is able to see who is coming, he gets pulled behind a large bush next to the trembling horse. Trying to force his way past doesn't bring results and he growls in frustration at being stuck behind the concealing foliage.
"Now, what do we have here?" a male voice questions darkly. "A young queen very much lost on her wedding day?"
"I'm...I'm not queen...just yet," Marianne corrects between gasps.
"It matters not. You wear the ring, so, therefore, you are the one to wear the crown," the goblin huffs. "Why do you trespass here, little one?"
"It...it wasn't my intention," Marianne sniffles, choking down a sob. "I bear no ill to you or yours. I..."
"Show me what distresses you so," the goblin demands softly after she unsuccessfully stifles a cry.
"What? I...I...I don't...understand," Marianne murmurs. "What do you..."
Marianne's soft gasp echoes in Bog's ears and he presses against the barrier restraining him from seeing what is happening. He feels both fear and rage as he hears the goblin growl loudly soon after. Imp paws restlessly beside him but doesn't move from his spot.
"Faithless cad!" the goblin yells. "And in my forest he commits his sordid deed?! Such nerve that not even a fairy would have to do so! Ask of me! What punishment is fitting for your unworthy betrothed? For such as this, I'll not even ask for a fee."
"I...I can't. It...it hurts, but I can't...can't ask for him to be...to be hurt as well," Marianne manages between whimpers.
"Your heart is too caring, little one, and it's going to be taken advantage of," the goblin groans.
"I know," Marianne chuckles watery. "I know it...all too well. But...but I can't help it. It's a...a part of me."
Marianne's soft humorless laughter is broken with sobs and Bog grabs his chest at the pain he can feel resonating in the air. It was too much. The air within the forest is charged with the feeling of her pain. He almost wonders how the full-blooded goblin could have stood it.
"I almost wish...wish that I could ignore my heart...and see the truth...the truth others hide," Marianne mutters brokenly.
"Do not say such things!" the goblin orders with a hiss. "Do not give voice to such thoughts! Not here and not to me!"
"Can you...could you grant...such a request?" Marianne asks.
"It is your hurting heart that speaks so rashly. Restrain your tongue while I feel lenient," the goblin warns softly.
"So, you can grant it," Marianne muses, taking a deep shaky breath. "What would such a gift be?"
"I warn you once more not to say such things," the goblin growls.
"I am to be crowned queen this day. But I am a naive child who believes the words of others. What manner of queen is fit to take care of her people if she cannot see through the lies that are concealed by honeyed words spoken to her?" Marianne argues softly. "I wish to never again be swayed by false respect that covers contempt, or flattering words that conceal self-serving motives, or pretty words that are lies to disguise the truth. I wish to always be able to see the truth."
"Persistent girl," the goblin sighs. "Such a gift you seek is indeed within my power to give. But it is very costly. Since to give this gift would bind my magic to your very heart, the payment would be no less than your very life. Still desiring such a gift?"
"My life? When would it be required to be paid?" Marianne questions.
Bog echoes the goblin's and Imp's groan. Did she really just hear that the bargain would cost her life and only asked when she'd have to die, like it was nothing?!
"Since love caused this bargain's beginning, then love will be its finish. I will give you the gift to always see the truth behind a person's words or actions and the moment you announce love to another, I will own your life," the goblin answers.
Imp's nervous shifting ruffles the surrounding foliage but it's not enough to let Bog see into the glade when silence reigns for several minutes. Whatever is happening must not have pleased the goblin, though, as he lets out another groan before sighing.
"Do you truly understand what you're asking? A bargain made is a bargain done," the goblin states firmly before chuckling soon after. "It means that no matter how long it takes, no matter what has happened in your life, no matter if you regret the price to be paid, I own what you have promised me. There will be no backing out. No changing of mind. As of this day, your end of the bargain is already mine."
Bog winces when Imp suddenly lets out a shrill neigh beside him. He's sure he heard Marianne repeating the oath but it's hard to tell.
"Your horse has more sense than you do," the goblin comments snidely before crying out in pain after the sound of a punch rings through the air.
Cackling freely, Bog lets himself lay back on the ground as the vision dissipates. He barely pays attention as the cursed Imp jumps from his lap to run back to the glade's edge to join Chipper once more.
"You...you punched him?! No...no wonder you...you laughed so...so hard at Mom's...Mom's story!" Bog manages between his laughter.
"What did Imp show you?" Marianne questions warily.
"Sir Roland's naked butt," Bog answers, laughing harder at her look of horror.
"Imp!" Marianne admonishes, glaring at the cackling imp.