Branch smiled goofily at his wife. She was wearing the usual yellow bathing suit, looking happy with sand on her feet and flushed cheeks.

Her glitter freckles were back. Branch didn't even know if Poppy noticed them, but once they completed six months together, he woke up to find those adorable sparkling dots back in place.

The city seemed to grow in its happiness as well. There were so many parties lately that he had almost given up surveilling all of them. Poppy was a great help, always attending to each one to suggest fun games so everyone would stay upbeat.

New Year's Eve was just around the corner and they still hadn't decided the party theme. Poppy decided to spend the day cooking their heads under the sun to inspire him to agree with a beach themed party. Branch tried to build a sand sculpture of Gary and someone hit a colorful ball right into it. After three attempts, he gave up and just sat down to watch Poppy having fun.

"Prince Branch, I'm sorry to bother you on your day off," he turned from drooling over his wife to find Gia Grooves and her husband Aspen Heitz looking at him a little worriedly, "We have a problem and we're not sure who we should address this subject to."

"I figure it's Queen Poppy because it concerns her father," Aspen completed quickly, "but we're not sure if she's still sensitive about him, so we thought you could help with a more objective point of view."

Branch was already waiting for bad news. Usually when trolls came to him with a rehearsed speech like that one, it meant he would need to work his way around a serious matter. If it concerned King Peppy, then things would be complicated as well.

"Go ahead," he replied, making sure Poppy was away from the hearing range.

"As you know, our second egg is about to hatch." Gia opened her hair to show him a blue glittered egg, "and we need to redecorate our pod. We need more space so we're thinking about adding an extra room."

"Okay," Branch indulged her to continue. He understood enough about construction, perhaps he could be more helpful than he initially thought.

"But we share the same tree branch as King Peppy's old pod." Aspen cut in, explaining the real reason behind their story, "and we're afraid it might crack with the extra weight."

The old royal pod was untouched since the King had passed away. Not even the most curious troll would step closer knowing that it was watched at all times. Branch didn't have the heart to remove the king's belongings and he still hadn't talked to Poppy about it.

He was so worried about making her happy, seeing her slowly returning to her old cheerful self, that he postponed the subject indefinitely. He was certainly discouraged during King Peppy's memorial a day after she had returned.

That day, Poppy stood coldly, not saying anything nor shedding a single tear. Her hard rock wall was solidly in place and her reaction - or lack of - scared most trolls who were expecting their bubbly queen to be sad.

"All right," Branch gave in, "I will talk to Poppy about the Royal Pod and I'll start removing everything from inside once she allows me to."

It felt wrong to go through the King's things. Branch sat on the sand as the sun went down. Poppy was playing beach tennis with Smidge while Biggie cheered from them both at the same time.

Most trolls were going away, returning to their homes to rest. The snack pack remained, with Tiny burying Cooper in the sand and DJ rehearsing an experimental track with Guy Diamond's autotune. It felt like nothing had changed.

It was almost sinful to force Poppy to face unhappy memories. So, Branch made up his mind: if she allowed him to, he could get rid of everything by himself.

The tennis ball rolled next to his feet and his wife bounced her way close to him. The sun was behind her back giving her a heavenly vibe. She bent down to take the ball and inched close, giving him a hot kiss that didn't go unnoticed by their friends.

"Get a room!" Guy Diamond playfully yelled. Poppy giggled shyly, breaking their kiss.

"We will. Soon." His wife whispered in his ears, making goose bumps raise on his skin.

That night he invited her to share the bathtub. She washed his back, massaging his tense spots while she was puzzled at how stiff he was after a day off. Sensing that he was oddly quiet, Poppy planted a soft kiss on his spine, feeling his muscles move under her lips. Another kiss on the spot above and Branch sighed in defeat, relaxing against her.

Wrapping her arms around him, he felt Poppy pressing her cheek against his wet back. Usually her hand would reach underwater, teasing him until he jumped her and they made a mess in the bathroom. But this time, her hands remained on his chest, caressing him tenderly.

"We need to remove your dad's pod." He said at once, not being able to hold it in another second. Poppy didn't respond, but he felt her arms tightening the embrace even more. "For safety. The weight…"

"I understand." Poppy interrupted him. "It cannot stay there forever."

From time to time Branch caught a sight of Poppy standing on the green grass underneath the Royal Pod. Behind the safety of his screen, Branch saw her rehearsing several attempts to go inside only to give up on the last second. If she wasn't ready to revisit old memories it was acceptable.

"If you want me to, I can do it by myself." He offered, but another kiss on his back made him understand that she wanted to be part of it as well.

"They are my memories. I should go with you. Maybe there is a toy or two I want to keep." She replied.

He didn't object to that, but her reply - not at all gloomy or depressing as he had expected - was a good sign that she was slowly retrieving the positiveness that had been present during her queen years.

Resilience was one of Poppy's strong points that Branch immensely admired. Along with her talented fingers that were rubbing circles on his back, untying the tension that he had built the last hours by pondering about her possible bad reaction.

"Did you talk to my dad? While I was gone, I mean." Poppy sounded a bit far away, as if she was trying to imagine the scenario itself.

"He was my guide." A smile always seemed to show up when Branch recollected the memories with King Peppy. Funny and somewhat mysterious, the old troll was practical and assertive.

In the first years of being in charge of Trollstopia, Branch found it challenging to be respected. His argumentative ways distracted the crowd during speeches. He tried to explain why he had reached a certain conclusion to raise a democratic debate about his decisions. But many slept while he explained his point of view and others started small talks with their friends and never heard what he had to say.

It was King Peppy who stepped up and gave decisive orders. 'Bridges go there', 'walls will be built in that direction', 'security is a priority from now on'.

King Peppy explained that being a Prince meant he gave orders. The debates could be held with his closest friends. When it was time to be the leader, Branch had to have an iron fist.

"We had coffee every week. We talked about the city and… about you." Branch winced when he felt a painful knot coming undone.

"Gossiping about my childhood. Shame on you." She playfully nudged him, showing she was done.

Standing up from the bathtub, Poppy reached for the towel. Branch leaned back, barely suppressing a smile. He loved watching Poppy getting into her nightly ritual.

She would apply moisturizer on her skin and brush her hair while she naturally dried. Then she would apply a different cream on her face and brush her teeth. Since it was a warm night, she chose to leave the bathroom in a simple night shirt.

It wasn't much later, Branch walked into their bedroom, where he kissed her without asking for permission. After all, when he tried to get an excuse to touch her lips she often replied "I'm yours, you don't need to ask." Obviously, getting annoyed by his hesitation.

Branch was immensely happy to see Poppy smile and surrender to him. A small dark thought inside him still questioned if she would have ever left her first husband if he hadn't died and what Rob had done to conquer her heart in so little time.

"I love you." Branch said, caressing her back while he trailed kisses down her neck.

She never answered when he said he loved her, though.

It was okay. He could wait.

"Are you ready?" Branch adjusted all the empty trash bags he was carrying in his arms. Poppy nodded, at his side. She was willing to do it, but the silent shield to hide her true feelings - especially when they were negative - was in place.

"I'll work on the Haircraft supplies," it was a good plan, Branch thought. King Peppy used the second floor to store all kinds of hair for his hobby, while his bed and personal things remained on the floor below. Poppy would have privacy to explore while he was close. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Quietly, Poppy stepped inside. Carefully she waited until Branch disappeared on the floor above to take a deep breath.

The bed where her father had passed was in the middle of the room. The heaviness of it pulled her close like a magnet. She didn't touch the mattress, pillow or blanket. Somehow her hands were tied, but her eyes were fixed, glassy, with fantasy and memories mixing into an image of her dad laying there. Asleep.

King Peppy's scrapbooks were all piled up on shelves. She had seen most of them, being her father's first reader. The scrapbooks would be the starting point of the cleaning. Mentally, Poppy went through the strategy: she would separate the ones she knew and send them to the library. The ones she didn't know would be taken to the bunker for inspection.

The clothes were easier to sort. At Volcano Rock City there was a shelter for homeless trolls - many ventured out of tribe's grounds, looking to be free from any kind of imposition and ended up lost in the forest. Once they returned, they needed some time in the shelter to rebuild their lives. The king's clothes would be a good donation.

And there were domestic things that needed to be reviewed. The oven was broken, the table, chairs and even the bed itself - Poppy only looked at it, without getting any closer - were too old. They could be recycled to something useful.

A drawer had a couple of letters shared with other leaders. Poppy didn't read them, but placed them with the pile of scrapbooks to be taken to the bunker.

Avoiding the bed, Poppy turned to the only place that was intact: the closet under the staircase.

Expecting to find cleaning products or bed sheets inside, Poppy had to cover her nose at the stench that pulled her out at once.

Her nose stung with the smell of burned metal.

She had to raise her dress up to her nose to protect herself from the unbearable odor. On the ground, she saw a piece of fabric covering the gap under the door, stopping the horrid smell from spreading through the whole pod.

The origin of the stench, however, was a couple of buckets that were on the floor. The sticky contents were never cleaned and the burn marks made her freeze in place.

Poppy barely had time to process what she was seeing before Branch hurried downstairs, immediately recognizing the smell. He stood next to her, as surprised as she was.

Her old dress, covered in blood, her fluffy rug, - stinking as much as the buckets - and a broken hug watch were also thrown inside the closet.

It was all the evidence that King Peppy had collected from the night of the fire, and secretly kept them away to spare his daughter.

"I'll take care of it." Branch closed the door before Poppy could blink. Strong and overprotective, the survivalist led her outside so she could breathe in some fresh air. "Nobody will ever see it."

"Scrapbooks…" Poppy whispered wearily. Branch leaned closer to understand what she was saying. "I'll take a pile to the bunker. The rest may go to the library."

She was numb, Branch noticed. The shock from seeing everything that confirmed that she, indeed, had destroyed everything she had loved the most had thrown her back into the loneliness of her mind.

Branch was suddenly furious at King Peppy. He thought the old troll had destroyed everything. It was stupid and reckless to keep it all inside a closet. Anyone could have walked in and seen it. Years of talking with the retired King, years of taking care of him, delivering food and asking for advice. The admiration Branch had felt melted away, revealing frustration and even a hint of hate.

When Branch blinked away from his wonderings, he noticed that Poppy was gone.

His eyes were fixed on the screen for hours.

After emptying the pod from everything that would be saved, Branch personally unwrapped it from the tree, not accepting any help from curious trolls who watched him carrying more weight than it was reasonable. The pod and the evidence were taken outside the gates, where waste was piled to be recycled.

His anger progressively subsided as he watched the pod being triturated. A small relief was felt when he heard the noise of metallic parts being ground to small and unrecognizable residues. Poppy's secret was safe and even if they never found out what had happened that night, even the best investigators wouldn't be able to accuse her without substantial evidence.

When he returned home that afternoon, Branch thought he would find Poppy there, reading or scrapbooking to settle down the uncomfortable feelings. Instead, he met an empty bunker, with everything as they had left that morning. Even the dirty cup of coffee was still on the countertop.

Worried, he went straight to the surveillance room. Fear crept his stomach as he reminded himself - as it became a routine in the past months - that he had agreed to keep her without a tracking badge. She was the only troll that couldn't be traced inside the city grounds and while he respected her wishes, it was a moment he cursed himself for giving in.

Frustration, anger and helplessness seemed to shift inside him while he searched from screen to screen any traces of pink that could indicate where she had gone to. It was only after half an hour searching - a half an hour that felt endless - he caught sight of her on a screen that he rarely looked at.

She was immobile, sitting down like she wanted to merge within the background. If her skin wasn't so pink, she might have succeeded.

His frown melted into sadness at once. Poppy stood up from arranging flowers for a deceased friend, then moved to another.

Branch knew where she was standing. That part of the old graveyard was where he had determined where the victims of the fire would have their resting place. He had expected Poppy to visit them sooner, but it didn't surprise him when she didn't.

It also didn't settle down well that they hadn't talked about the casualties.

It wasn't going to be pretty when she returned.

The sunset painted the sky in orange and purple. She had spent the entire day there and Branch didn't move from his chair. No food, no water. He was worried Poppy had permanently lost her appetite.

Finally, when it was dark enough, he saw her leaving. He followed her back from screen to screen and was already considering to bake cupcakes full of sprinkles to offer her for dinner, but when she didn't return to the bunker, he grew puzzled. Apprehensive, he saw her arriving at some random party at Hard Rock Hollow, where she stayed for hours.

It was odd sleeping without Poppy by his side. Branch drifted off into a superficial sleep, while his ears were fully alert. His body craved for rest; his muscles ached with all the weight he had carried that day. The effort made him sore; back, arms and legs, it seemed he couldn't move without wincing in pain.

Finally giving up, he allowed exhaustion to take over and he slept a non-restoring sleep.

Hours later, his eyes opened when he felt the mattress dipping beside him. His nose caught the smell of her fresh shampoo, soap and toothpaste. Poppy was lying down with her hand over her forehead, eyes scrunched close and obviously fighting the sensation of spinning walls. There was no shower or hygiene routine that could hide her drunken state from him.

"Can I get you some water?" Branch asked quietly, seeing - as expected - her wincing beside him, knowing she had failed miserably at her plan of fooling him.

"I'm fine." She turned her back to him.

"Painkillers then." He offered and she didn't answer. "So, we talk in the morning."

A corrosive silence fell between them. Branch was aware that she wasn't asleep, but making an effort to be as quiet as possible. She was tense and he could see it from the way the muscles on her back flexed, trying to get comfortable, uselessly.

He didn't move and he didn't look for the clock. The sensation of time seemed to make seconds turn into hours and it was only much later that Poppy finally turned to face him. Eyes glassy and a frown that could compete with his own.

"I wish you'd have told me."

Branch didn't have to ask what she meant. She obviously was talking about her lost friends. It wouldn't be helpful to try to defend himself. To say he was trying to give her time wasn't going to make it look better. He was a coward hiding behind a noble excuse to spare himself.

"Laguna is gone, Branch. I thought she had returned to Techno Reef with Synth, but…" Poppy's eyes filled up with tears. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her shoulders shaking at each sob. "Cybil, Laguna, Priscilla …"

He couldn't bring himself to say soothing words. Branch was as sad she was and from years of experience, he knew kind words didn't make the pain go away. On the contrary, it was better to feel everything, not masking or concealing the feelings. Accepting them was the first step to cauterize the bleeding.

"I cannot stay. My friends died because of me." Her fears returned with full strength. Branch held her even tighter, immobilizing her as if he could restrain her thoughts as well. "I don't trust myself to stay."

Panicking, Branch bit down his tongue. A metallic taste invaded his senses when he realized he was biting too hard.

"It won't happen again." He choked, realizing the absurdity he was saying. "I will watch you night and day if I have to."

"Branch…" She half laughed at the bitterness of his offer. "... you do realize that if I had all those buckets with me… it meant I premeditated everything."

Until that moment, Branch hadn't doubted her. He hadn't considered another hypothesis for the fire. Hearing those words, however, made an enormous red flag buzz in his mind.

"... things escalated. I'm even more insane than I thought…" Poppy continued, but Branch wasn't listening anymore.

He was sure she had burned the village.

Until that point.