*Slowly, loudly, his footsteps echoed off the cold, brick walls. Each block, bigger than he was tall, had been painstakingly laid down centuries ago. Carpets of moss and thick ropes of vines had long since grown over any of the carvings that had been carefully chipped into their faces, their warnings and tales ruthlessly silenced by the encroachment of Mother Nature's forces. Small patches of ivory mushrooms glowed an ethereal blue in the darkness, acting like beacons as he made his way down the corridor. The sound of water steadily dripping down from cracks that had wormed their way through the stonework eons ago accompanied his footsteps*

Hhhhhhhhh-hhhhhhhhhhh . . .

*He paused a the low rasping sound that seemed to snake and writhe through the hall behind him. Whispering to the reliable rhythm of his own breathing, it could hear it practically crawling its way towards him with its sickly, gloom-ridden tendrils. He started walking again, quickening his pace down the corridor. The walk soon turned into a jog and the jog quickly became a run and soon, he was sprinting as fast as he could down the shadowy corridor. His foot slipped as he turned a corner and he fell against the wall, soundly planting his face into a patch of wet moss. Hurriedly scrambling to his feet, he dashed away as fast as he could, just before he heard the rush of phantom tendrils collide with the same wall; if he had to describe it, it would've sounded like a firm breeze meandering its way through the air. Unlike him however, it quickly recovered and rebounded with an almost water-like quality, wildly smashing and crashing into the walls of the corridor in an almost drunken manner.*

Hhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh . . .

*His heart was in his throat now when he saw that the corridor diverged up ahead of him into two, separate passageways. Any signs of means of discerning what lay down either path had long since succumb to the ravages of time and now laid buried behind curtains of creepers and brambles. He skidded to a stop, nervously biting his lip while he frantically glanced down either corridor, trying to figure out which way he should go. Down the hall to the left, he could only see darkness pockmarked by the same patches of bioluminescent fungi that had guided him before. Down the hall to his right, he was met with a different kind of darkness, one that had no beckoning lights that would kindly light his way; as near as he could tell, there was nothing but the pitch, black emptiness of the void*

Hhhhhhaaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaaahhhhhaaaaaaahhhhaaahhhh . . .

*Before he knew it, a tendril of the black, ethereal mist had coiled its way around his ankle. With a strength belied by its vaporous nature, it pulled him to the ground with a sharp yank and began to drag him back the way he came. He instinctively struggled against its cold, clammy grip, furiously kicking his leg to try and make it let go of him. Instead, the fog seemed to intensify its efforts and lashed out at him numerous, additional tentacles that wrapped themselves around his wrists, shoulders, stomach, and neck. He fought more frantically, grabbing onto any of the loose cobblestones he could with the tips of his fingers and straining against the pressure. His grip suddenly gave way and he was freely dragged several feet before he managed to find another foothold. Gritting his teeth, he reached with an outstretched hand for the next stone and, with effort, managed to close his fingers around it. He then reached with his other hand and dug his fingers as deep into a nearby patch of moss as he could. Slowly, but surely, he resisted the mist's attempts to drag him toward what he could only assume to be his doom and made his way back to the fork in the tunnels. If he could just grab hold of a corner . . .*

Yoooooooou leeeeeeeeeeft uuuuuuuussssss . . . yoooooooou abandoned uuuuuuuuusssss . . .

*He squinted his eyes shut. The fog was whispering to him now, trying to chip away at his mind and get him give up. He attempted to push its words out and concentrate on reaching for the next handhold, but he found that he couldn't. With every shaking attempt he made, the fog doubled its efforts with sinister intent, relentlessly assaulting him with guilt-ridden words.*

Wheeeeere did you go . . ? Whaaaaaat haaaaappeeeeened . . ? Abandoned usssss . . . left ussss . . . where are you . . ?

*He squeezed his eyes tightly, holding his grip. He didn't abandon them, or at least, he hadn't meant to. There hadn't been a moment where he hadn't thought about them and what they did for him and what he did for them in turn. He hadn't met to ruin their beautiful relationship . . . things just happened, things he couldn't have fathomed nor things that he could've controlled. He had only met to be gone for a little while . . . just a little bit, that's all . . .*

Abandoned usssss . . . leeeeft us . . . whaaaaaat haaaaappeeeeened . . ? Yoooooou abaaaaaandoned uuuuuusss . . . left usssss . . .

*He cried out as the tendrils tightened their grip, cutting off the circulation in his arms and chest. He could feel it starting to squeeze the very air from its lungs as it lashed out with even more tentacles that latched onto any precipice they could find, the collar of his shirt, the folds of his ears, his cheeks, the creases in his elbows, all with painful precision like that of a hundred barbed wires.*

Leeeeft us . . . whaaaaat haaaaappeeeened . . ? Wheeeeere did you go . . ? Yoooooou abaaaaaandoned uuuuuusss . . . where are you . . ?

Abandoned usssss . . . Wheeeeere did you go . . ? Left usssss . . .

Wheeeeere did you go . . ? Leeeeft us . . .

*With a final, defiant scream of pain, misery, torment, and rage, he mustered all of his strength and staggered to his feet. The ethereal fog tightened its hold tenfold, threatening to give him a stroke as it cut off the circulation to his limbs and extremities with malicious amusement; he ignored it as best he could. His mouth was dry as he panted and took a shaky step forward. An attempt to swallow felt like there was a rock in his throat as he took another. Bit by bit, he struggled against the unfathomable strength of the mist while he made his way toward the divergent hallways. As he did so, his skin began to crackle and stiffen like dried leather, fading to a deep crimson the color of blood. His bones crunched and snapped as they pushed against the confinements of his frail, human body. Muscles and sinew leaped and dove like schools of dolphins between his arteries and veins, granting him renewed strength he hadn't felt in a long time. With a grunt, he gave a mighty tug and managed to tear his right arm free from the fog's grasp. He blinked, his breath tired and ragged when he realized that his field of view had expanded; that hadn't happened since he had four eyes. As his hair receded into his scalp he flexed his now massive shoulders and back and noted with no small amount of grim amusement when a second pair of arms burst out from his mid-section like a pair of snakes hatching from the same egg.*

Leeeeft us . . . Yoooooou abaaaaaandoned uuuuuusss . . .

*He could sense it now. The fog was losing its hold on him, both figuratively and literally. With another, sudden twist of his robust body, he tore his other arm free of its grasp and took another step towards the corridors, his foot slamming down on the ancient stone like a mighty thunderclap. He took another step and it sounded like an avalanche as it barreled its way down the mountain; the tendrils that had roped themselves around his neck snapped. The next step came crashing down like a tidal wave and the fourth with the force of the very earth pushing and straining against itself. Only a handful of the inky, black tentacles remained down, the rest having given way to his strength and resolve.*

Where are you . . ?

YOU LEFT US . . !

*Suddenly, the mist struck with renewed vigor, lashing its tendrils like whips around anything it could grab. Once it wrapped itself around his wrists, it went for his arms, then his ankles and thighs. Soon it was after his chest, then his calves, his neck, his stomach, even his fingers until it had grabbed hold of every conceivable foothold it could latch on to. The pain as the tentacles savagely dug into his tough, red skin was unlike anything he had ever felt, a raw, churning, sensation that made it feel like his muscles were fire while they were painstakingly unwound. It was like pulling the thread off of a shirt's tag until it had completely fallen into a few, wiry strands - except with his own tissue. He grunted and wrestled against his captors, but the newfound strength that had once coursed through him now felt all by useless. He could his feet starting to give away as he was agonizingly dragged by inch by inch.*

YOU LEFT US . . !

WHERE DID YOU GO?

YOU ABANDONED US!

WHAT HAPPENED?

WHERE ARE YOU?

*The words buzzed around in his mind like a nest of agitated wasps, painfully stinging him with their unbearable truth whenever he tried to deny them. He clenched his teeth as he bore through the pain and strained to lift all four of his arms. He took another, shaky step forward, but rather than one of the two hallways that lay before him, he struggled to approach the face of the wall at the center. His breathing was heavy now, the very tips of his fingers just barely grazing the cold stone. He allowed his two right arms to be pulled back by the fog's determination, only to resist once it had reached a certain angle. He could sense its confusion, wondering why he had given it this advantage only to tear it away.*

"I never left," he spoke after a moment, his voice tired and weary, but tainted with a fiery resolve. "I never stopped."

*Then, as if he had spoken the incantations to a forbidden ritual, the space between the fingers of his right hands shimmered and rippled. Enormous, clattering chains caked with rust and barnacles and algae suddenly coiled around his biceps and tightened their hold on him. But this didn't hurt. Unlike the ethereal fog, the chains hugged him like an old friend, gently caressing him as they wove around one another and finally stopped at his palm. That was when a large, metal shaft started to form from an enormous, silver ring that had clapped to the last link in the chain. For several meters it ran until it was easily longer than he was tall. After that, it split into two, divergent forks that began to curve back up. Ancient runes and markings etched themselves into the sea spray soaked steel until a gigantic anchor easily the size of a small house stood beside him like a trusty companion.*

"I just needed some time . . . and a something heavy enough to keep me grounded."

*He suddenly roared a battle cry as he surged forward, effortlessly hauling the enormous anchor from the nest of cracks and rivulets it had left in the cool, stone floor and into the air. With the sound of the tides crashing upon the shore in his ears, he thrust his arms forward and watched with satisfaction as his trusty weapon barreled right into the wall with a mighty KRACK-OOM! Rubble and bits went flying in all directions, grazing and bouncing off his crimson skin as he wretched himself free from the the fog's inky, black tendrils. A sharp shaft of blinding, white light suddenly erupted from the cracks in the masonry, slicing through the mist like a knife. A shrill, high-pitched, almost screech-like sound emanated from it as the light heroically assaulted it, letting him fall loose from its grip as it hastily retreated back the way it had come.*

"Good . . . good . . ." he panted to himself, reveling in the welcoming rays. Reaching into his belt with his lower, left arm, he pulled out a small toothpick and paused to momentarily pry something from his teeth before he bit down and held onto it. A small gesture of comfort, at the very least. "Now . . . let's get started."

Sooooooo . . . too dramatic? A bit edgy perhaps?

Well, all I can say is that this has been a long time coming. If I'm being honest, I absolutely should have done this sooner. Like, in the first few months when I practically dropped off the face of the Earth for seemingly no reason. But, as I'm sure you might've guessed, there is a reason. Several reason actually, which is something I feel you all deserve to know.

For the handful of you who didn't manage to find me lurking within the dark recesses of Deviantart, life basically hit me in the face with a brick.

Okay, a few bricks.

Really a lot of bricks.

Like, maybe even a truckload.

When I lasted updated this story, I was in the final year of my high school experience, an often stressful and unpredictable period in many people's lives as they are finally forced to confront the real world and set out on their own. Many either choose or are forced to go off to college, and I was no different. The classes and workload that I was met with was something I honestly wasn't prepared for but, if I'm being honest, came to enjoy . . . to some extent. If you ask me, mathematics and ethics can kindly go fuck themselves instead of tormenting me with their indecisive answers. During this time, I also had to get a job in order to support myself, which also met that I finally had to get my driver's license . . . yet another stressful period in everyone's life when they're put behind the wheel of a death machine that can weigh as much and hit with the force of a rampaging elephant if left unchecked. Also didn't help my instructors were less than helpful people, but I survived. In addition, I was met with several rounds of unexpected illnesses that no-one could have ever prepared me for - it was quite literally the closest I have ever come to experiencing hell.

But, that's only part of the story.

If any of you go to my profile, you may notice a . . . well, notice at the top of my page. Go ahead, take a moment to check it out. In short, it basically states that I will no longer be roped into collaborating with other authors on stories. Now, I didn't write this to sound rude, so I'll explain myself. While I'm flattered by the love and praise that everyone has given me over my work, it also had the unfortunate side effect of people asking me for advice on their own stories or even my active participation. At this period in my life, I struggled to stand up for myself and simply couldn't say "no" after someone showered me with a few compliments and a couple pats on the head. Thus, I ended up getting pulled into a couple stories. I thought they would be something short and quick, but I found myself be pulled down numerous rabbit holes until several years had passed since I had graced any of my own stories with an update. College leaves very little room for personal projects and hobbies.

One such person who I collaborated with was an author known as Feedbackblast18, who wanted to write a Ben 10 x Monster High crossover of his own. As the quite literal founder of this particular crossover combination, I obliged and thus And The There were Monsters was born. Basically parodying the events of the two-part Time War special from Ben 10: Omniverse, the numerous Bens introduced are replaced by numerous ghouls with Omnitrices - some good, some evil, all battling for the fate of the omniverse and with Nefera stuck in the middle of it all. Of course, I couldn't just let it be a 'replace these characters with these other characters' scenarios, so there are most certainly some original portions thrown into the mix, too.

The other collaboration is with Blazorna Ibara. Now, this man right here is an absolute saint. They asked me to do a crossover between my stories and their story quite literally years ago, back when We Are Monsters was wrapping up. Ever since then, I had made it a bad habit of constantly putting off this crossover between us to update my own stories, and they allowed themselves to essentially be pushed around and let m walk all over them. As you can imagine, the guilt inevitably caught up to me one day and I realized how much they were sacrificing for my own happiness because I couldn't control my own impulses. I decided to put my foot down and made a personal vow to not update ANY of my stories until our collaboration had been finished once and for all. My life was moving and, as a result, theirs had become stagnant. It was only right that I do my part to help them get moving again.

And so, here we are now. Now, I want to make it VERY clear, I do not hold Feedbackblast18 or Blazorna Ibara in any contempt for wanting to work with me or working with me at all. I will not have you go harassing them because they kept me from writing my stories because, when you really look at it, they didn't. I'm the one that's kept myself from writing them, for better or for worse, so if you fell you must yell at someone, go ahead and yell at me.

But now you're probably wondering what this all means. Well, to put it simply, the collaboration with Blazorna is finally coming to a close. We're within the home stretch and I honestly felt it was about time I made a statement for those that didn't (or couldn't) PM me for an explanation or didn't know I had been pulled down the rabbit hole of Deviantart. You're probably asking what this means and if and when we'll get an update. Well, I don't want to burst your bubble on such a (relatively) happy announcement, but it won't be for a while. Like I said, we're in the home stretch - that means the collaboration isn't complete yet and I most certainly do not have an entire chapter for Once Upon a Tennyson ready to post. What it does mean is that there will be an update in the future. This story hasn't been abandoned and quite frankly, I never abandoned the site in the first place. I just continued to under estimate my own abilities for literal years now, but my experiences have thankfully given me a better perspective of myself.

So, when will this update take place? I honestly can't tell you, only that it will happen. By my estimates, the collaboration will, at the very latest, be finished before the end of the year, baring any unforeseen circumstances. After that, I will do everything in my power to bring you the next chapter of Once Upon a Tennyson, but given how it's been literal years since I've updated, I want to give you something that feels like I've put actual effort in it - which means it's going to take some time.

With that said, I'm taking a new approach to how I write my stories, at least my main ones, such as Once Upon a Tennyson. Rather than writing out 100+ pages for one chapter, I'm going to try and write shorter chapters. This will hopefully allow me to update on a more frequent basis than I did before, while also giving me (and hopefully, you all) the illusion that more time has passed during or between events, rather than having everything happen in a single chapter, since that's not really how stories work at all (unless you're the Pokemon anime).

Now, for those of you that can't wait for that next update, I have something that might be able to tide you over for the few months necessary. You remember those collaborations I mentioned? Go and check those out - most, if not all of them are made entirely of my own writing, with my own ideas, or at the very least, with my influence. Those stories are:

And Then There were Monsters by Feedbackblast18 - A crossover between Ben 10 and Monster High that parodies the two-part Time war special from Ben 10: Omniverse by replacing all of the Bens with ghouls that have Omnitrices of their very own. At the same time however, Nefera is conflicted in how she feels about her relationship with her sister until events force her to take up the mantle of the Omnitrix herself to save her and face the dangers of the omniverse.

The Troubles of a Misplaced Hero by Blazorna Ibara - A crossover between Ben 10 and Queen's Blade, an anime taking place in a medieval setting inhabited by various species of monster girls, known as Gal Monsters, all looking to compete in the coveted, titular Queen's Blade for power and glory. A 10-year old Ben has fallen into this world injured, confused, alone, and hunted by just about everyone he comes across. Forced to face dangers beyond the scope anyone - even someone with his experiences and abilities - should face, Ben will have to rapidly adjust both his skills and sense of morality if he ever wants to survive or have a semblance of happiness left. After all, it's not like he can go home . . . there's nowhere to go home to. Creaturemaster's contribution to the story take place in current, later chapters of the story and will require readers to read the entire story up until that point in order to understand its context.

With that said, feel free - please, even - leave your thoughts, comments, and questions in the reviews! Not just about the status of things, but about Once Upon a Tennyson as well! It's been literal years since I've updated, so I feel that any and all thoughts or questions from the last, actual chapter have kind of 'timed out', if you will. Plus, I doubt anyone can or would even remember what they were, it was so long ago.

Hasta luego!

Man, it's been a long time since I've said that.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

You're still here? It's over. Go home!

Oh, you're expecting a sneak-peek of the next chapter because you know or hope that I've been working on to some extent over these past, few years? Well, fine then.

Lizzie awoke with a slow stir, blearily blinking her sapphire eyes in her jaded stupor. With a yawn, she rolled over and snuggled back down beneath the warm covers, attempting to shut out the suffused sunlight that tentatively peered through the curtains of her bed, as if afraid they would be attacked if they ventured too close. The princess almost wished that she could somehow order them away so that she could go back to sleep and never be bothered again.

It was by this point that sensations in the rest of her body were finally beginning to register and inform her of her surroundings despite her explicit desire to remain blissfully ignorant. She was more comfortable than she had ever been in her entire life and there was no way in all of Wonderland that she was going to give this up just because her internal clock demanded she leave the luxury of her bed and go about her day. No, today was the day that she was going to do absolutely nothing but sleep the day away and nothing was going to stop her unless it wanted to come face to face with the horrors of the fiery pit itself. Thankfully, her body quickly got with the program and the internal struggle she had with herself was brief.

A low hum of contentment left her lips as Lizzie nestled back down into the welcoming embrace of her pillow and wrapped the sheets a little tighter around herself, determined to make sure none of the body heat she had accumulated over the night was going to escape. She was just about to take sleep's cordial offering when she felt the comforter suddenly shift and pull in the opposite direction, leaving her significantly colder than she had before.

The princess's eyes snapped open. Hesitantly, as if she were dubious of whether or not her mind was playing tricks on her, she gave an experimental tug of the blankets and wrapped them around herself with a tighter grip. Much to her irritation, the sheets were pulled away from her again a few seconds later, leaving her with even less warmth than before.

By now, the sensations she had once warded off were now coming back and she felt her blood run cold when she felt a firm, strong hand tightly cup her left breast. A bloom of crimson splashed across her china doll face as she hurriedly sat up, a half dozen different possible assassination scenarios running through her-

A hot flash of pain shot up her spine like a lightning strike.

A sudden gasp from her chest.

Her fingers instinctively flew to try and ease the sore spot, only to latch onto the intruder's hand with such vigor and strength that it was a wonder she didn't snap all of their digits like toothpicks.

And that's when the memories came flooding back to her like a surging, crashing tidal wave determined to drown her. She found her chest tighten when she remembered how she had been unable to attend her dear mother's birthday party and struggled to breath when she remembered the horrible, festering cesspool her beloved homeland had become in her absence. Her pulse raced when she remembered the plot of a deeply deranged psychopath against her family. She broke into a cold sweat when she remembered the following battle and how close she had come to having tea with Death itself.

All negative feeling was washed away like muck in the rain when she remembered that he had been there beside her all along, comforting her, protecting her, doing everything in his power to set things right and save the day like he always did. With peace of mind, she lay herself back down when she remembered how the two of them had been joined in holy matrimony after it all, the highlight of what had started out as a blight of a day. A warm, pleasurable feeling coursed its way through her body and she felt her heart flutter at the very thought of the following celebration that had lasted long into the night and well into the next morning.

"Mmmhmmp . . . Lizzie . . ?"

The Daughter of the Queen of Hearts felt the bed shift beneath her while her husband reluctantly joined the land of the living. His bedhead was absolutely terrible – he looked like he had just come out of a fight with a pack of bandersnatches – and his morning breath left something to be desired (then again, she didn't exactly smell much like a breath of fresh air either), but she didn't care. She was just glad that he was there right beside her.

"Good morning, Ben." she smiled brightly.

The brunette mumbled incoherently as he sat up, tiredly running his fingers through his messy hair while he stretched. "I just had the strangest dream . . ." he yawned. "There was this big scheme or something against your mom . . . and this crazy jester that kept hitting on me for some weird reason . . . and then we got into this big fight . . . and we somehow ended up getting married . . . and . . ."

It was at this point that he came to the sudden realization that he wasn't, nor had he ever been dreaming and that he was in Lizzie's bed and she wasn't attempting to behead him for being so.

"This . . . this isn't a dream, is it?" he tentatively asked, blushing a bright maroon when he additionally realized that his hand still had a death grip on her bosom.

The princess smiled playfully and pressed his hand firmly against her breast, like a cat toying with a mouse. "What makes you say that?"

"There would be smoothies. Lots of smoothies."

"Are smoothies better than me?" she asked with a factitious, innocent tone.

"Is that a trick question?"

Lizzie's china doll lineaments turned a bright hue of red when she tightened her grip and pushed his hand deeper into her cleavage. A flirtatious smile snaked across her lips while she leaned and sweetly pecked his cheek, as if rewarding him. "Good answer." she gave him a tactile look.

Not a beat was missed. His free hand tenderly cupped her cheek as he tenderly placed his lips upon hers, capturing them in a passionate kiss that all but immediately made the young monarch go weak in the knees. Their mouths went slack within seconds and Ben went to work straightaway, teasing her lips with the tip of his tongue. He felt her grip upon his other hand release as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss by several degrees. Her oral movements were powerful and precise, her tongue lashing out at his defenses like a striking viper; he responded in kind, expertly blocking her attempts with moves worthy of a duel.

The princess's hands continued to explore his body, invigorated by his heat. Her fingers ran themselves through and grabbed fistfuls of his thick, brown hair every few seconds while her other hand felt up his physique. An examination of his back, shoulders, and chest revealed multiple scars from multiple battles he had endured (some of which she was sure were not even technically battles); needless to say, she was thoroughly impressed, if not a little turned on. She could feel her husband's other arm loop around her back and not-so-stealthily slide down her back until he cupped her rear with his strong hands, massaging her porcelain flesh with his well worn fingers. Waves of delight and titillation ran up her spine, sending chills of excitement all over her body.

She was in absolute bliss when the kiss was eventually broken and allowed a sensual moan most unbecoming of a princess escape her when she snuggled in closer, firmly pressing their bodies together. "That's going to take some getting use to," she purred pleasantly. "You could stand to be a little rougher next time, you know."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Tennyson." Ben chuckled and placed a final kiss upon her temple.

Mrs. Tennyson.

It was almost funny how, between last night's wild celebration, the playful banter they had thrown back at one another, and sharing a bed together, the concept hadn't even struck her full force until now: she was married. To most people, this would have been an absolutely startling and uncomfortable revelation, given the circumstances. Strangely though, it felt like she had known him for years, and they had only courted – if going on a mission to stop a coup could be called courting – for a few days at best . . . and yet, it somehow felt right.

She was Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Tennyson now, and no-one was going to tell her otherwise.

A loud, gurgling noise pulled her out of her thoughts. "Um . . . not that I wouldn't mind catching a few more Zs, but how does breakfast sound to you?" he smiled sheepishly at his angry stomach.

"Breakfast would be lovely." she agreed.

At this, the brunette coughed awkwardly. "So . . . er, do you want me to carry to the bathroom or . . ?"

For a brief moment, the Daughter of the Queen of Hearts was baffled by this question before she noticed the two, useless lumps in the blankets that cowered at the foot of the bed. Those useless lumps were her legs, just as equally useless as the lumps in the blankets they so fearfully hid beneath, as if afraid of facing her wrath. And for a brief moment, she simply starred at them, as if she couldn't believe that they were hers and that she was going to be incapable of moving about on her own for nearly two weeks at the very least – maybe even longer. And for a brief moment she wanted to mourn the loss of her legs and freedom, now dependent on the help of others to even go about her daily business.

Then she remembered that she had someone to help her out and suddenly she didn't feel so upset about the matter. In fact, if anything, she was actually a little excited.

"If you wouldn't mind?"

Ben looked at her imploring smile and outstretched arms before he heaved a sigh and pulled back the sheets. He gently slipped his hands beneath her legs and the small of her back, and lifted her off the bed with a slight grunt.

"I'm not that heavy, am I?" she gave him an accusing look while she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders.

"Bad back, remember? You aren't the only one Courtley beat black and blue."

The princess cringed slightly at the bitter tone and she cupped his cheek with an apologetic hand. Neither of them liked to admit it, but their pride had been dealt a serious blow. In retrospect, perhaps that was for the best – she was the heiress of a family who threatened decapitation at the slightest transgression and he was someone who quite literally carried the power to shape the universe itself on his wrist. It wasn't hard to imagine their egos eventually getting the better of them some day.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

She decided to change the subject. "Breakfast is in thirty minutes."

"Yeah? So? We've got plenty of time."

"In case you've forgotten, my family's home is rather large," she reminded him as he "From here, it would take some twenty minutes just to get to the dining room. And that 's assuming you won't be able to get the Omnitrix to function properly."

He grunted as he shifted his wife's weight in his arms and struggled to nudge the bathroom door open with his foot. "I'm still not following."

"We must bathe together."

Ben nearly lost his footing on the slick, bathroom tile and almost dropped Lizzie when she instinctively tightened her grip on him and dug her knife-like nails into the back of his neck. A string of profanity followed as he caught himself and promptly sat down on the lip of the bathtub, a slightly perturbed look to his now brightly colored face. In all her years and in all the temper tantrums she and her mother had thrown, the princess was pretty sure she hadn't seen that shade of red before.

"A-Are you crazy!?" he stammered, clearly flustered.

A beguiling smile crossed as she caressed his cheek with her silken hand. "What, the Great Ben Tennyson is afraid to see his wife in the buff?" she purred temptingly.

At this, his face turned an even deeper shade of red. "I-It's not that . . . like I said before, we barely know each other and we're already married. I . . . just want to make sure I'm doing things right, you know? It's one thing having multiple girlfriends with their own unique needs and desires, but . . . well . . . having a wife is . . . different." he sighed with frustration; his mouth refused to make the words he had so carefully laid out in his head.

Touched by his timidity, the Daughter of the Queen of Hearts placed a comforting kiss upon his cheek. "Your chivalry is admirable," she complimented him. "But allow me to run this by you: we've been married for less than twenty-four hours and my mother is already pressing us into grandchildren. If we were to take our time bathing separately, what exactly do you think would go through her head if we show up late for breakfast?"

The brunette shuddered at the thought. His recently acquired mother-in-law had not-so-subtly pursued the two of them throughout last night's wild celebrations and made many a suggestion as what to name her future grandchildren. Furthermore, she had not-so-subtly entailed that she wanted grandchildren and had tried everything short of being absolutely blunt about the matter, including a not-so-subtle invitation to join her and her husband at their private hot springs for a night of love and passion. Naturally, he had responded in a not-so-subtle manner and had all but cowered behind his wife while she kindly warded off her pertinacious mother.

What was perhaps most bizarre about the whole incident was that the Princess of Hearts had in no way actually rejected the idea of having a family in the first place . . .

"We're bathing together. No arguments." he said firmly. "But we're keeping our backs to one another, got it?"

A vexing smile split across her lips. "I make no promises."

"That's reassuring."

"Oh, don't pretend you aren't curious!"

Chika-chika.