"The Spring Ball!?"

"Yeah, this says - "

"My father sent this?"

"Well, here's the Fairy King's - "

"I can't believe this!" the fairy did the tenth circle around the throne room, ignoring the Goblin King that was trying to show her the piece of paper.

Bog stopped trying to reach her and watched her thinking face with a cold feeling on the stomach. Why was she so shocked? And serious? Was she worried that this was going to be bad?

Was she mad because he would go?

"Should I... Should I refuse?" he asked with a tiny voice, his insecurities screaming in his ear that of course she didn't want him in this Spring Ball, that he would be too out of place there, that he would ruin it with his presence.

"What?" she asked, finally looking at him. Bog gulped.

"Is this something bad? Some kind of trap?" he breathed in and tried to think more rationally about this. Maybe it was something cultural? "Is the Spring Ball so important?"

"What? No, no… it isn't a trap or any kind of weird fairy custom. It is a stupid party the Royal Family throw near the beginning of Spring. It's kind of useless, and only fairies are invited because we are racist like that, but the fact that Father himself wrote the invitation is weird."

"Why?"

"He... ," Marianne sighed and put her hair behind her ear in a pensive gesture. "He was one of the people that are most against my idea of peace. He had been laughing at my plans my whole life, telling me that it was all childish dreams. After all he did to stop me, suddenly he is all in with my ideas? Something is going on."

Oh, so she suspects that her father wants to hurt our relationship, he thought, suddenly noticing the phrasing. Our kingdom's relationship…

"Or maybe he is actually trying to help?" he ventured, but was silenced by his friend's piercing glare.

"Or maybe not. Look," she sighed and put a hand in her hair again, visibly anxious about the whole thing, "fairies are… pretty racist," she made a face when she said that, "and proud. My kingdom has plenty of variety of race and customs, but only the fairies' ones are the 'official'. And even if elves and pixies are invited, we aren't very welcoming of them. Or they aren't," she murmured as she looked elsewhere, uncomfortable by her race's behaviour. It was left unsaid that it was even worse with goblins.

"So…"

"So," Marianne grumbled. "I don't know why father decided to suddenly change his mind after decades of systematic racism. I'm afraid that this is a plan to humiliate you for being a goblin."

"Tough Girl, look at me," Bog gripped his staff with a little more force than was necessary when she did. People looking at him so directly always made him a bit nervous. "I'm used to it. If they are going to be like that, then let them. If they are going to try to make me mad to break the treaty, I won't do it. I'm stronger than that. Have a little faith in me."

Marianne felt a knot in her throat and a tingling sensation on her eyes. Looking at Bog like this, vulnerable but yet stronger than her, knowing about his insecurities about his looks, she couldn't do anything but respect him. He was braver than she was, capable of keeping the composure in a situation that could potentially hurt him. She wanted to be able to do the same.

"Okay," she smiled and put a hand on the hands tensed around the staff. "I'll trust you."

"Thanks."

"I understand then that you are going to accept?"

"Of course," he smiled that lopsided smile of crooked teeth that made him ten times cuter. It was a side of him that she had become acquainted with recently, but that she liked very well.

"Ok, then. This is what you need to know…"