Wendy Corduroy was not your average princess in the tower. Upon her arrival to The Green Court, when told the truth of her mother's identity, Wendy asked to be taken to see her. Denied access, she spat at her grandfather's feet, earning her a direct trip to her chambers, or "deluxe dungeon," as she referred to it. As the granddaughter of the Green Man, she was technically royalty, but she scoffed at the notion. She certainly didn't want to be associated with someone who would steal his own daughter away from her husband and children.

"Hey, Bork," she called, summoning the young brownie who had been assigned as her personal servant, "How's it coming on getting me a blade?"

"He says 'no,' mistress," simpered the brownie, his voice child-like, as he trotted to her from her antechamber where he had been sweeping fallen leaves into a pile.

"Ugh, you asked him?!" cried Wendy, smacking her forehead. "You weren't supposed to askhim, Bork! You're such an idiot."

"I apologize for my ignorance, mistress," said Bork, his lower lip quivering. "This is my first assignment out of the kitchens. I was trying to make sure I did everything right."

Wendy sighed. "Don't cry, Bork, damn. I didn't mean it." She rubbed her eyes. "I'm just so frustrated right now. And I keep telling you, you don't have to call me mistress, okay? It's just Wendy."

"Miss—Wendy," said Bork, his gleaming, cocoa-colored eyes wide, "I want to do as you ask, but the Green Man," as he said this, he glanced around the room, and his voice became a whisper, "he is a harsh master. I do not want to provoke his wrath."

Wendy crouched down to Bork's level. "What kind of wrath are we talking about?" she asked quietly. "Like, a slap on the wrist, no dessert for a week, type of wrath? Or like…evil magic dungeon type of wrath?"

"The second type," said Bork, looking down at his hands.

Wendy put a hand on his shoulder. "Has he hurt you, dude? Cause if he has—"

"No, no, Mi—Wendy," assured Bork. "Not me. But many of the palace servants are brownies… being as small as we are, we see things that are often hidden from others. For instance, that birch tree in the inner courtyard—"

There was a soft knock at Wendy's outer chamber door, and Bork's mouth snapped shut, as he rushed to open it.

"Nah, man, let me get it," said Wendy, her long strides quickly carrying her past Bork on his tiny legs. "I'm not used to having someone doing everything for me."

Wendy pulled the heavy door open, and was met with a visibly nervous child-dryad. Her periwinkle eyes were wide, cherry blossoms tangled in her platinum curls.

"Mistress Wyn Dahlia," the girl said, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. "H-he requires your presence at His court at the d-dinner hour tonight… w-wearing appropriate d-dress, and b-behaving in a m-manner appropriate to your rank." The child quickly looked down, bright red spots appearing on her pale cheeks.

"Uh, are you afraid of me?" Wendy asked. "Cause I'm not gonna hurt you, kid."

The girl backed up slightly, shaking her head. Then she turned on her heel, and ran down the corridor, cherry blossom petals trailing in her wake.

Wendy glanced to her left, at the member of the Green Guard posted by her door. "Do youknow what that was about?"

The Green Guardsman continued to stand at attention, and said nothing.

"Ooookay then," said Wendy, shutting the door firmly. "Bork, do you have any idea why that little girl was absolutely terrified of me?"

The brownie attempted a smile. "You did cause quite a scene at court when the Green Guard first brought you in," he said. "No one ever stands up to the Him in that manner. Not since—well let's just say it's been years, and it ended badly for the one who dared disobey Him. I suppose there are some that are worried that if they get too friendly with you, He will take your behavior out on them."

Wendy sniffed derisively. "If he does that, he's a bully and a coward."

Bork wrung his hands anxiously. "Please, at dinner, do not say things like that. He is very powerful, and is not used to being disobeyed."

"Well," said Wendy with a chuckle, "he had better get used to it. Because I'm not very good at obeying. I'm a flipping Corduroy."

/

The seasons in the Green Realm most certainly did not align with the seasons in Gravity Falls. Where it had been dreary, drippy, and miserably cold in Oregon, it was abundantly sunny and warm in the Green. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, as the motley group of travelers made their way in the direction of the Green Palace. Dipper and Grenda walked at a comfortable pace, while Bacon, whose short legs precluded him from keeping up with the others, rode on the back of Fenris.

"Really, dog," complained the clurichaun grumpily. "Must ye stop and piss on every tree we pass? Where does all the piss come from anyhow?"

Fenris grumbled and shook his whole body, causing Bacon to have to hold on to his fur to avoid being flung off into the verdant canopy.

"Cripes, Fenris! Fine, whiz wherever ye like," pouted Bacon.

Fenris barked happily.

"So, Bacon," said Dipper casually. "When were you going to try and teach me how to use my magic?"

"I volunteer to be sawn in half!" shouted Grenda.

"Sorry sweetcheeks, but that'd be right messy. It's not that kind of magic," said Bacon. "That sawing in half nonsense is an illusion." He paused thoughtfully. "Well, actually, I guess… if Dipper here has the same kind of magic as that arse of a trickster god, he should be able to do glamours, which are essentially illusions. Sort of." Bacon belched, and scratched his stomach. "It's complicated."

"Well, uncomplicate it for me," said Dipper, crossing his arms, as they continued to walk.

"I'll do me best, Goat Boy," Bacon replied. "But keep in mind—while I have some minor magic of me own, I don't have full-blown god magic. This might be a lot of trial and error. Quite a bit of error, actually."

Dipper sighed. "Oh, good."

Bacon cleared his throat, and sat a little straighter on Fenris' back, swaying slightly with the dog's gait. "Right. Lesson One: Creating a physical item out of, essentially, nothing. Now, this isn't one I can do—if I could I wouldn't have to resort to stealing bad whiskey from ogres. This is, as far as I'm aware, just something gods are capable of. I'm not sure I'd call ye a god, but apparently Puck gave ye more than normal satyr magic, as ye've already seen this ability manifest—that map of yours is proof."

Grenda raised her hand. "So, um, do we know why Dipper's map looks like it was drawn by a second grader?"

"Yeah," agreed Dipper. "I mean, it's pointed us in seemingly the right direction so far, but for actual information about where we are or where we're going, it's useless."

"I'm not one-hundred percent certain," said Bacon, stroking his beard, "but I think it has to do with your familiarity with the object being conjured. Also, practice."

"So, you're saying I should just reallyfocus on something I'm familiar with to make it appear?" asked Dipper, skeptically. "Because I tried that already. With pants. I was unsuccessful."

"Look, friend, ye said ye were only turned satyr-god-thingy a couple days ago," replied Bacon. "Maybe your magic's just takin' its sweet time settling in. Or maybe ye had to be in the Otherworld for it to become functional. Who knows? God magic—and trickster magic, in particular—is known to be fickle."

"Wait, Otherworld?" Dipper frowned, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "We're in the Green Realm."

"Och, I forgot ye're not all read up on mythologies and gods and fae and whatnot," sighed Bacon. "The Green Realm is part of the Otherworld. There's lots of realms. The Realm of the Dead is another." He paused. "I don't recommend visiting that one. Ugh. That was a bad day."

"Okay," said Grenda. "I think there's a story there we need to hear."

"Darlin', I'm going to need a hell of a lot of whiskey before I can relive that," said Bacon with a shudder. He suddenly turned to Dipper. "Say, ye don't happen to be a hobbyist whiskey aficionado, do ye? I'd love ye to conjure me some of that sweet, sweet nectar."

"Dude, until two days ago, I was thirteen years old," laughed Dipper.

"So, that's a 'no,' then?" Bacon said sadly, as Dipper nodded his head. "Well, what is somethin' ye think ye're sufficiently familiar with so as to be able to try conjuring it?"

"Erm… Journal Three?" Dipper supplied. "It's a book one of my great uncles wrote that—"

"Don't tell me about it, kid," interrupted Bacon. "Showit to me."

Dipper closed his eyes, which was not the best idea, seeing as he immediately walked into Grenda. "Maybe we could stop to rest for a bit, so I can concentrate better?" suggested Dipper hopefully.

"If ye want to, sure," said Bacon, shrugging. "I'm in no hurry. I'm just along for the ride. Ye never even told me where ye're headed that's so important."

"We're going to the Green Palace, to save Dipper's girlfriend, (who is also apparently a dryad), from the Green Man!" explained Grenda cheerfully.

Fenris paused in his tracks, and whimpered.

"Wait, what?" asked Bacon, dumbfounded. "Ye're going up against the bloody Green Man himself? Are ye daft, boy? How're ye planning on 'saving' her from him, then?"

"Uh, well," said Dipper, nervously licking his lips, "I thought maybe if I asked nicely—"

"Or violence!" shouted Grenda.

Fenris wuffed softly.

"I agree, Fenris, old boy. They're insane, the both of 'em," said Bacon, shaking his head.

"Look, I haven't really planned that far, okay?" said Dipper, defensively. "This all happened kind of suddenly. I just want Wendy back." He angrily wiped at the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Yeah, I'm in over my head. Yeah, I have absolutely noidea what I'm doing. All I know is that the girl I love was kidnapped and is being held against her will—and I'm going to do everything in my power to save her."

Bacon held his hand over his heart. "Fenris, did ye hear that? That there's true love."

Fenris yipped, his tail wagging.

"Dipper, Grenda… ye're both absolutely bonkers." Dipper opened his mouth to protest, but Bacon hushed him and continued. "Ye've no idea what kind of power the Green Man wields. However, if ever there was a reason to do somethin' stupid, that reason would be love. We'll continue on with ye…and gods help us." He sighed. "Now let's find a spot to settle for a tick, and learn ye some magic, son."

Fenris walked up to Dipper, and nudged his wet nose against the satyr's hand.

"Thanks, Bacon. And you too, Fenris," Dipper said as the group made their way off the road. "I just hope I can master enough magic to be helpful by the time we reach the Green Palace."

From behind him, Grenda piped up happily, "And if you don't, there's always violence!"

/

Mabel sat up in her bed slowly, yawning and stretching. She blinked, and wiped the crust out of the corners of her eyes. Glancing over at Dipper's empty bed, she sighed. Waddles, having been awoken by Mabel's movement, oinked softly.

"It's so weird to think he's in a completely different dimension," Mabel said absently, scratching her pig's head. "He didn't bother to make his bed before he left. Looks almost like he just got up early, and he's downstairs eating breakfast with the Grunkles right now." She frowned. "Except that the Grunkles aren't even here either. Oh, Waddles, I don't like this! I don't like it at all!" She scooped the pig up, and held him close, burying her face into his soft, pink skin.

A knock at the bedroom door startled her, and she dropped Waddles back on the bed.

"Mabel, can I come in?" asked Melody through the door.

Mabel quickly wiped her eyes. "Yeah, door's open."

Melody entered the room, her curly hair still disheveled from sleep. She hugged a fluffy, pink dressing gown around herself.

"So, um, your new little friend Arden is here," she said, sounding confused.

"What? What time is it even?" asked Mabel, looking at the sky, black and star-filled, and tinged with just a hint of gray light, through the bedroom's triangle-shaped window.

"6:45. She's awful chipper for so early," Melody said, a small scowl on her face. "Must be one of those fabled 'morning people' I've heard about."

Mabel's eyes widened. "So the legends are true?"

Melody grinned. "In all seriousness, though… you maybe should tell her to wait until like nine if she's going to come over in the mornings. Do you want breakfast? I can make pancakes."

"Pancakes sound fantastic," said Mabel. "Don't they, Waddles?" she asked, poking her pig in his belly. He oinked.

"You heard the pig," said Mabel, flashing Melody a grin. "Pancakes it is."

One quick shower and change of clothes later, Mabel found herself seated at the kitchen table with Arden.

"So, you're an early riser, huh?" asked Mabel as she poured a lake of syrup onto her small stack of pancakes.

"It would appear so," said Arden, as her pale cheeks flushed in her embarrassment. "I am used to being up at dawn. I did not consider that others do not also rise when I do. I am sorry for my rudeness."

Mabel flapped her hand at Arden, while she chewed a mouthful of her breakfast. Swallowing, she said "Don't even worry about it. I had actually just woken up anyway. Only—maybe text me before you come over next time?"

Arden, who had been ripping off pieces of her pancakes and feeding them to Waddles, looked up at Mabel with confusion.

"I am sorry, text?"

"On your cell phone," said Mabel, pulling her own phone out of her pocket and waving it at Arden. "Send me a text message. Give me your phone and I'll put my number in."

"I-I do not have a pocket phone," said Arden, her cheeks turning crimson once again.

Mabel simultaneously narrowed both eyes and raised one eyebrow. "What are you, Amish? Where did you say you were from, again?"

"I didn't," said Arden. "I have lived all over western Europe. I don't call one particular place home. I just go where my tribe takes me."

"Your tribe?" Mabel said, cocking her head to the side like a confused dog.

"M-my people. My family," said Arden, becoming flustered. "This topic of conversation is making me uncomfortable." She ducked her head down, her raven curls spilling over her face.

"Sorry Arden," said Mabel, patting her new friend's hand. "I won't pry. But since you don't have a cell phone, how about we say you wait at least two hours after dawn before you come over for a visit?"

Arden smiled up at Mabel through her curls. "I can do that."

"Good," said Mabel with a grin, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up. "Let's get to the gift shop now. Paz should be here soon. Despite the fact that she now has a disgusting crush on my brother, I kind of like hanging out with her."

/

"So, Bork, what does a well-bred dryad maiden wear to a dinner at the Green Man's court these days?" Wendy asked, sarcastically. She looked down at the tattered remains of the forest nymph costume she was still wearing. "I'm guessing not this."

Bork's lips quivered, as he suppressed a smile. "No, indeed, not that. Follow me, I'll show you your wardrobe."

Wendy walked slowly behind Bork as he trotted to a door set in the far wall that she had not yet noticed. As he pushed the door open, Wendy gasped in awe. She was not a materialistic person. Unlike many other girls her age, she did not collect fashion magazines to ogle over the newest looks every month. However, the sight before her left her breathless.

"Dude, these are all for me?" she said softly, as she walked amongst the vibrantly colored dresses, fingering the soft silk, velvet, cotton, and linen fabrics. Instead of being arranged by color in the tradition rainbow scheme, the dresses were all separated by season. Spring's dresses were all bright yellows, pinks and greens, while summer's wardrobe seemed to capture the warmth of a sunny day, with sheer sky blues, warm golds, and verdant, jewel greens. The winter dresses, all icy whites, dark blues, and black velvet, were beautiful as well—but Wendy's favorites were the autumn dresses: colors of soft golden hay, deep russet browns, and the various yellows, crimsons and oranges of fallen leaves.

Bork grinned with pride. "They are all for you, Wendy. Brownie made, down to a stitch. They will all fit perfectly as well, even though you were never measured. I cannot tell you how, though. Brownie secret." He winked. "Do you see one you would like to wear to dinner?"

Wendy scanned the group of autumn dresses. "This one," she said, grabbing a dress with a deep brown, sleeveless, plunging V-neck bodice, embroidered in golden Celtic knotwork, its floor length underskirt the same brown, topped with an overskirt made of wide strips of sheer fabric, the colors of fall leaves.

"That will look wonderful on you, especially with your hair washed and fixed nicely," commented Bork.

Wendy touched her hair, feeling a somehow simultaneously frizzy and greasy texture. "Gross," she muttered.

"Do not worry," said Bork brightly. "We will get you looking presentable in no time."

Wendy slung the dress over her shoulder, and followed Bork out to her bedchamber, where she tossed the garment down on her bed.

"Let me show you your bathing area," said Bork, motioning Wendy to follow. In the corner of the room was an alcove, blocked with a carved wooden screen. Peeking around it, Wendy saw a small pool, being fed by a waterfall. There were cloths for washing and drying laid out, as well as a small jar of what appeared to be liquid soap of some sort.

"Huh," said Wendy, "the Green Man may be a prick, but he does offer nice accommodations, for a kidnapper."

She stepped behind the screen and undressed, sticking a foot gingerly into the pool. The water was pleasantly warm, and the soap smelled like lavender. As she began her ablutions, Bork spoke to her from behind the screen.

"You—you are not going to say things like that at dinner, are you?" he asked, fear creeping into his voice. "He will not react well if you do."

"Relax, Bork," said Wendy, as she splashed in the water happily. "I will be the verypicture of propriety."

"From your tone," said Bork, "it sounds like that propriety will not be sincere?"

"You are correct, my friend," said Wendy, as she vigorously scrubbed her hair. "I figure, if I can get dear old grandpato think he's won me over, he'll give me more freedom. Maybe even allow me outside the palace. More freedom means more opportunity to escape this place and get back to Dipper and my friends and family."

"You mentioned this 'Dipper' before, when you were first brought here screaming," recalled Bork. "Who is he?"

Wendy smiled, as she floated on her back in the pool, rippling her fingers lazily through the water. "He's my boyfriend. More than that, really. I tried to deny it for a long time, because he's three years younger than me… but I think, if there is such a thing as a soulmate, Dipper Pines is mine."

"He must be special," observed Bork. "This is the first time I have heard true happiness in your voice since meeting you."

"You better believe it," said Wendy, closing her eyes, and thinking of the passionate desperation of his kisses on Christmas Eve. "He's smart, and kind, and handsome in an adorkable sort of way. He's everything I never realized I needed. He's probably back in Gravity Falls, beating himself up because he couldn't save me from the Green Guard. If pure humans could enter the Green, he'd probably be on his way to me right now. He's the best person I know."

"But is he worth risking the wrath of the Green Man?" asked Bork, his reedy voice worried.

Wendy's was quiet for a moment. "Yes," she finally said. "I'd risk anything to be with him again."

"For what it is worth, Wendy, I will help you return to your Dipper in any way I can," Bork said sincerely. "You sound like you really love him. The Green Man was wrong to rip you away from him, and your home and family."

"That's awfully sweet, Bork, but I don't want to get you in trouble with Him," said Wendy, as she climbed out of the pool and began to dry off.

"I think I will take a page out of your book, so to speak, and try to not care what He thinks," Bork said, his voice shaking slightly. "I have been raised to be an obedient household servant, but I have enough personal autonomy to disobey when I think my master is wrong. And he is wrong."

"Well, I don't even really have a plan yet, except to become a complete brown-noser, so you don't have to worry too much right now," said Wendy, squeezing water from her sodden hair.

"Then I will continue to perform my duties as assigned—to serve you, and help acclimate you to the customs and manners of His court," said Bork, confidence returning to his voice.

"That's fantastic, Bork," said Wendy cheerfully, still behind the wooden screen. "In that case… do you think you could find me some underwear?"

/

An afternoon of magic training left Dipper exhausted. After an hour of intense concentration, he was able to conjure a plastic butter knife. He had been trying for a sword. Another half hour led to slight progress—a steel letter opener.

"It at least looks like a sword," said Grenda, trying to be helpful. "And even though it's blunt, it could do real damage if you poked someone in the eye with it!"

"Thanks, Grenda," said Dipper glumly. Fenris laid his head on Dipper's knee and whined.

"Your brobdingnagian friend is right, Dipper," said Bacon, patting Dipper's other knee. "Keep trying. I bet each not-sword ye make will be a bit more 'weapony' than the last. And if all else fails, hey! You'll have a nice selection of cutlery at your disposal!"

"I don't have timeto keep trying," complained Dipper. "Grenda and I have already been in the Green Realm for nearly two full days, which means for Wendy, it's been three. Who knows what's happening to her at the palace? I doubt she's earning any stickers for 'playing nicely with others.'"

"Plus, winter break will be over in…" Grenda counted on her fingers, "one, two, three, four, five days. My parents know where I am and why I've gone, but your parents, Dipper? I doubt they'll buy Mabel's story that Wendy was kidnapped by tree-men and you had to turn into a mythological beast in order to enter another dimension and save her."

Bacon frowned. "So ye've got a bit of a deadline, then. Ye didn't mention that. We better get moving again. I know of a good place to camp only a couple hours from here…should be about nightfall by then."

"I guess if we get attacked, I can always poke the bad guys real hard with my letter opener," said Dipper with a sigh, standing up.

Fenris grumbled, and pawed at Dipper's leg.

"Fenris is right, Dipper," said Bacon. "Ye'll just need to try and concentrate with your eyes open, so ye can keep practicing while we travel."

"Do you really speak dog?" asked Grenda, skeptically.

"Well, I can't be giving away all me secrets, now can I sweetheart?" said Bacon, with a wink, as he hopped up onto Fenris' back.

"Fine, let's just go," said Dipper, swinging his pack onto his shoulders.

As the afternoon sun sank slowly toward the horizon, the group continued toward Bacon's camping spot, leaving a trail of semi pointy, nearly sharp objects littering the path behind them.

/

Bork stood back from Wendy, admiring his handiwork. "I daresay you might actually be presentable at His court now," he said, grinning.

Wendy stood in front of the full length mirror in her wardrobe, and had to admit, she agreed. The dress fit as if it had been custom tailored for her, and Bork had wound and coiled her hair into an intricate style she could never dream of attempting on her own. She wore no jewelry, save for her mother's pendant around her neck.

"Well," Wendy said, turning to face Bork, "Phase one of plan 'make Wendy fit in so she can get out' is complete."

Bork giggled. "That plan name is quite a mouthful."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "You think you can do better, tiny man?"

"How about… Operation Red Freedom?" suggested Bork.

Now it was Wendy's turn to giggle. "Dude, that either sounds like we're liberating the commies, or like a horrible name for a feminine hygiene product."

Bork winced. "Ew, no. Hmm… Project Heartache to Jailbreak?"

"I like the rhyme," admitted Wendy. "But it's still kind of a mouthful."

Bork opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a sharp knock on Wendy's outer chamber door.

"Oop, time to go to court," said the brownie. "You might not see me, but I will be there with you the whole time."

"Yeah, you're going to be with me the whole time, alright," said Wendy, as she bent down and picked up a protesting Bork, sitting him on her shoulder. "Right there."

As Wendy strode to the door, Bork wobbled, gripping her neck and shoulder tightly. "I thought you were planning to be the picture of propriety?" he said nervously.

"Don't worry, I'll pout prettily at grandpapa, asking him if I may pleasekeep my only friend in the whole Green Realm with me. I mean, it's not even a lie." Wendy put a hand over Bork's dangling legs to steady him. "If I'm a good little princess in all other aspects, I doubt he'll refuse me this one eccentricity."

"I hope you are correct," murmured Bork, as Wendy opened the door, to be met by her escort from the Green Guard.

"Hey, fellas," she said, grinning. "Take me to your leader, or whatever."

As they made their way down the hall, Wendy heard a soft voice next to her ear whisper "Oh, dear."