"Welcome, your highness."

Creek opened his front door with a big smile. The mushroom had always been located next to the lagoon. The sound of water was relaxing enough for getting into the mood for deep meditation.

This time, though, there were more sounds than usual. Her subjects were happily organizing a party for that evening. The re-coronation party thrilled every troll to the last strand of hair.

"I suggest we have our section indoors. The noise is dis-aligning my chakras."

"Fine by me." Poppy looked at her Hug Watch, counting the minutes there was left to endure the torture.

As usual, Creek first found a spot for himself and she had to sit down in front of him. He had two cups of steaming hot green tea, which Poppy made a mental note to avoid.

"This is our last section, as you know." Creek had his eyes closed and proceeded with the usual routine of gentle smiles and sipping tea between lines. "So it won't be our usual aura reading and meditation."

"I figured as much."

He stared at her. From her toes to her crossed ankles, up to her arms and feisty eyes. He looked genuinely intrigued.

"We've grown so much."

"It's usually what happens when you don't drop dead."

Creek ignored her sarcastic reply and continued.

"If Chef never showed up, do you think we would have gotten together at some point?"

The question startled her. She was taken aback and a million thoughts ran through her head, wondering if he would get into another soul-crushing game about her relationships.

"I cannot say, but I'm glad we were attacked. You wouldn't have shown your true self otherwise."

Creek didn't answer her, instead, he guided her to take six full breaths to relax and allow his aura intuition to spark.

Poppy did as instructed, repeating internally all the instructions Branch had for her before she left.

'Don't accept a regression meditation.' He quoted Dr. Leopold. 'Stay alert, watch if he has a trick up his sleeves and scream as loud as you can if he tries any funny stuff.'

"The usual anger, I see." The guru was used to her temper, so he was unaffected by it. "And anger is the emotion I want to test before I make my final decision." She rolled her eyes, "while your doctor is surprisingly overqualified to treat you, I doubt he saw you behaving under extreme stress."

Rob had forced a kiss once. He ignored her protests when she tried to pull away. Dr. Leopold had witnessed the consequences of that stressful situation, so Poppy thought he had seen her under extreme stress.

"So I will test your nerves if you agree." Creek stood up, opened a drawer that was full of incense boxes, and picked up a blue envelope. "I just want to see if you are 'safe' to live with us."

Poppy snatched the envelope from his hands, angry at his accusations.

"Take your time."

Her idea was to read everything fast and get out of there, finally free, as soon as possible.

But the letter looked familiar. The oval-shaped 'o's were unmistakably Branch's.

The letter was written sometime between the second and the third year she had been gone. The date was smudged in the corner. Her mind started getting foggier and foggier as she tried to make sense of what she was reading.

Branch was informing her he had met someone. She was nice and funny. She loved his survivalist way of life and settled in the bunker for weeks. She was sweet, gentle, and kind, she respected his limits and she actually listened to him.

The letter was to inform her he was giving up on waiting. Her lack of response was cruel and he realized he deserved to be happy.

"The same girl he kissed the night of the fire… can you believe it?" Creek sipped on his tea, calmly. Too calm for someone who had just removed the safety pin from a grenade. "I suppose he didn't tell you that."

'Scream' a voice in her head said, 'scream as loud as you can.'

"It sounds like a pattern, doesn't it? Everyone betrays you. I did, Rob did, and now Branch. Well, technically he betrayed you before Rob, but…"

The blood-chilling scream was heard all over the city.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Branch had kept his promise to stay nearby. He dropped the traps he was whittling, and was the first to knock down the mushroom's door when he heard Poppy's terrified scream.

The scene made him stop.

Creek was calmly staring at the Queen, curled forward, touching her forehead on her knees, screaming hysterically with a crumpled piece of paper in her hands.

A blue piece of paper.

Branch felt like he was going to be sick. The room started spinning and he felt like screaming as well.

Creek was forgotten.

Poppy and the letter were everything he could see.

"Poppy…" he whispered, taking a tentative step forward.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Poppy screamed.

"You were feeling guilty for getting together with Rob about the sixth year you were away…" Creek said, observing the damage he had caused. "But it seemed, Branch's urges made him give up on you around year two."

Trolls started arriving, scared, and worried; they gathered inside the mushroom and outside, whispering among themselves trying to understand what was happening.

"Do you feel an uncontrollable rage, Queen Poppy?"

Blinded and muted by overwhelming feelings, she could only nod. Branch tried to walk to her, but his knees gave out.

The pain was too much.

"Do you feel like you could kill?" Creek asked, coldly, his words had the precision of a skilled archer.

Wailing, Poppy nodded again.

"Did you or did you not burn down Trollstopia, your highness?"

The room was crowded, but not a fly could be heard. All eyes were on the pink girl on the floor, embracing herself, as if she could stop herself from disintegrating in thin air.

"I…" Branch reached to her. He was numb. It was all a horrible dream. He saw her lips trembling. "I t-think I did."

Hell broke loose. The survivalist jumped on Creek, not caring about the witnesses. One punch on the jaw followed by a jab. He was blind and ferocious. Hands pulled him back, and the sounds of his shirt being ripped by the effort of stopping him from killing Creek.

Trolls screamed for him to stop. Smidge called Poppy. There were so many trolls inside the mushroom that Branch sank like he was standing on quicksand. Creek escaped from his grip. Four trolls held him back while he looked everywhere for the Guru.

Too many hair colors, too many voices.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Once Poppy cried to the point of feeling her eyes swelling so much she couldn't keep them open. The burning sensation of tears streaming down her face caused her to reach out and touch the woods to guide herself. The light hurt, and the sounds made her mind throb.

She walked towards the sound of water and found a place to sit on an old fallen tree trunk. The lagoon glistened with the sunlight and she avoided staring at it directly for she could barely open her sensitive eyes.

It was out in the open. Everybody knew her secret. She deserved a proper punishment for what she did.

Exile seemed heavenly. Her love for Trollstopia was killed and smashed along with her trust in her husband. Her eyes burned some more when she thought of Branch.

"You shouldn't have screamed."

Normally, Poppy would have growled in irritation at Creek's arrival. But oddly, she felt nothing. She felt anesthetized. She didn't feel sad. She didn't lose her colors. She felt nothing.

"I didn't think your husband was nearby, it was my fault." Creek placed a hot tea in front of her, which she took, merely because she didn't want to protest. "You'll be dehydrated. You should drink up."

Poppy took a sip; she couldn't taste anything. Green tea, chamomile, or lemon balm. She couldn't say what she was drinking.

"You've been stealing the letters…" she was worn out. The truth started coming together and it felt ridiculous she could fall for it.

"Confiscating, I would say," Creek corrected. "I needed to know if you were a threat or not… like I said, my loyalty lies with Trollstopia."

Yes. Keeping the letters was a strategy to help the miscommunication between Branch and her to grow. With the days solidifying their distance, it was a matter of time until both moved on.

"I don't understand why you didn't let that letter reach me" Poppy scoffed "it would have ended right there. I'd never return."

"Is that so?" Creek gave a small doubtful smirk.

Would she ever have returned if she had read that single letter? Who was she fooling? Poppy was still quite upbeat around year two at Volcano Rock City. The singing and the chat during the shifts were very promising. She still had hope then. But if Branch's letter had reached her at that time… she would have left everything behind to find him. She would have tried to get him back and demanded answers just like she should have done on the night of the fire.

"I wish I could remember that night." The queen looked down at the greenish liquid in her hands.

Creek stared at her for a while, then he sighed and looked to the lagoon. Poppy felt the tip of her fingers going numb.

"It was an accident." Creek didn't look at her, but her head shot up in surprise. The sudden movement made her dizzy. "It was supposed to be a small fire, but it hadn't rained in days and the grass was dry."

Poppy tried to ask what he was talking about, but her tongue also felt numb. It was a similar feeling when she drank absinthe for the first time.

"... only your pod should have burned. But you didn't run straight home and I had to improvise." He ran one hand up and down her arm and she didn't have the strength to pull away. Nauseated, she barely blinked. He lightly touched the side of her head, where the scar was. "It was supposed to have knocked you out for good."

Scared at the revelation, Poppy tried to stand. Her joints felt loose and she lost her balance. Two steps to the right and she fell into the lagoon. Her voice was gone. What was going on?

"Don't look at me like that. I didn't kill anyone. The fire did." Creek stood up and for a small hopeful second, Poppy thought he was going to give her a hand. Instead, he dusted off his clothes. "Like I'm a mere witness of the water taking you under."

The waves crashed around her. The tide was growing and she was slowly pulled deeper until she couldn't reach the muddy ground. She couldn't swim. Her arms were numb, she could barely keep her face out of the water.

"You'll be in the history books. The mad queen who burned her city and drowned afterward. Quite ironic."

He turned his back and walked away. She aspirated water. Poppy tried to kick in a desperate attempt to swim, but once again, she met nothing but numbness. Her legs would only float underwater and so would her arms. Completely paralyzed, she couldn't breathe and her sight started blacking on the edges as she saw the troll she once considered a friend, vanishing without looking back.

She sank deeper, the water covered her head completely. Her lungs burned with the lack of air. Her last coherent thoughts were of Branch. A great relief was felt when she closed her eyes.

Poppy,

I'm writing this to tell you I'm done waiting. I'm not a deluded kid anymore and I understand when I'm being ignored on purpose.

The rock girl who kissed me that day came by to apologize. She's sorry she caused you and me to fall apart. She held her apologies to herself for two years waiting to tell you personally but she realized you're not coming back.

And so did I.

She's funny and she made me smile for the first time since you left.

We kissed. This time we weren't playing a game. She came in and I opened my heart to her.

I have to say I have started to hate you. Love can become hatred quite easily, but I have to thank you for leaving. Otherwise, I wouldn't have met her, I wouldn't have had hours and hours of … well, it's not of your business anyway.

I would still be an idiot, waiting for a Queen who burned her reign and left without looking back.

Guess what? Have a great life. I don't care.

Prince Regent

Branch had hated her.

She could barely recognize him.

It was meant to hurt.

It was meant to punish her.

The glistening surface of the lagoon was unreachable. With numb arms and legs, Poppy couldn't do much but wonder if she was going to be remembered at all.

At least it was going to be over.

"Poppy!" A distorted voice was heard from the surface. A yellow hand was the last thing Poppy saw.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Iron doors swung open with a loud rumbling noise. Branch lost track of time. Sitting down inside a dungeon that had all fun removed, he felt his swollen nose pulsing, clotted with dried blood.

The troll who stepped inside looked gravely at him—not reproaching, but accepting and understanding his actions. He looked away and his neck hurt. Sleeping on the hard floor wasn't like it used to be.

"You are free to go." Smidge didn't move, though. Instead, she sat down next to him. "I'm taking you to have your nose checked." She looked outside, where one of the fuzzlings stood guard.

"Did they find Poppy?" Branch asked, still not moving.

"I did…" Smidge's eyes filled with tears. "She's in the clinic, she's…"

Poppy. Clinic. Unconscious.

It was like that time when he was still excavating his bunker. He had dug a hole deeper than ever, but he forgot he had to reinforce the walls. He thought he was building his house, but it fell on his head. If the pain wasn't enough, the asphyxiation made things worse. It seemed, no matter how hard he fought the dirt, it pumped up, and ended up nearly burying him alive.

The more he fought, the more dirt he had to face.

When he thought he had reached his limit when Poppy found out about his girlfriend, emotional exhaustion crushed him with even more terrible news.

He spaced out, allowing his legs to follow Smidge. Once he realized, Branch was standing in front of a glass wall. Poppy was lying down, looking pale, unmoving, with a heart monitor indicating a weak beeping that scared him. His nose was patched, twice. He had cried and ruined the first one.

"The temporary insanity is confirmed." Smidge sniffed. "Her brain crashes and…"

"What…?" Branch shook his head, unbelieving.

"She was drowning…" Smidge tried to explain, drying her tears.

"No." Branch frowned. "Poppy isn't insane. She wouldn't try to…"

"You heard her saying she caused the fire." Smidge hissed to him, making sure no one was hearing them.

Branch clenched his jaw. With one last look at Poppy, he put a hand on Smidge's shoulder.

"To the bunker. Now."

It wasn't forgotten that the bunker was still wired. Branch looked at an alarmed Smidge before pulling the trapdoor open.

"You just point at the screen that shows the best angle to where you found Poppy. Don't say a word."

Too many emotions made it difficult for him to understand his real motivation, but vengeance screamed louder than the others. He hated Creek. He wanted to prove Poppy innocent. He tried to destroy the Guru's façade to return the earth-crushing feeling he had when his letters were intercepted. He wanted compensation for what they went through for eight years and mostly, he wanted everyone to know Poppy was sound-minded.

Smidge held her breath. There was a wall of screens, blipping and shifting. She seemed lost, from what Branch could observe. The clock on the wall indicated he had been at least fifteen hours locked in the dungeon and his system kept a recording of the last twenty-four hours. They had time to search.

The small helper walked close, from screen to screen, crossing off the ones that were too far from the lagoon. The downtown market, Hard Rock Hollow, Country Corral… they were all turned off, so she could concentrate on the others.

Branch thought he should hurry, after all, if Poppy woke up, he wanted to be by her side. He wanted to shower her with kisses, beg for forgiveness, and thank Hair she was still with them.

"Here." Smidge pointed at one screen and Branch walked closer. The camera focused on a couple of old tree trunks which the kids used to sit down and play with the sand. The waves crashed smoothly from that angle and the survivalist merely nodded.

They returned to the main screen, where Branch clicked on a small icon and opened the camera in a smaller window. Smidge was pulling her fingernails.

"Between four and six o'clock?" The question was vague. He didn't want to give much away and lucky Smidge understood what he meant.

"Five thirty or so."

The clock on the superior corner of the window ran back at a fast pace. Both trolls fell into a deep silence, watching birds flying backward, the water moving like it was returning to the lagoon instead of breaking on the sand.

The clock hit five thirty-seven and Smidge walked backward into the black and white screen. On her hair was a limp Poppy, soaking wet.

"Fudge…" Smidge cursed herself. She felt weak, averting her eyes from the traumatizing scene.

Branch's hand was shaking and he rewound the scene, starting its normal pace at five o'clock.

Poppy stumbled into the camera focus, wiping her eyes and leaning against the trees as if merely standing up required a great effort. About ten minutes passed and she curled, alone, shoulders shaking. Branch's stomach churned, knowing exactly why she was so desperate.

Smidge gasped, making Branch focus on the screen once again.

Creek calming walked into the frame like he was strolling on a warm summer afternoon. He sat right next to Poppy who didn't look nervous or didn't even seem to care that he was there.

"Can we hear what they are saying?"

Branch turned on the speakers and Creek's voice invaded the surveillance room. At that point, the survivalist hoped they were being watched. He wanted Creek to know he was caught.

"I didn't think your husband was nearby, it was my fault. You'll be dehydrated. You should drink up."

"I wish I could remember that night."

Branch's heart skipped a beat and by Smidge's sudden apnea, he figured so did hers.

"... only your pod should have been burned. But you didn't run straight home and I had to improvise. It was supposed to have knocked you out for good. Don't look at me like that. I didn't kill anyone. The fire did."

"Son of a rotten cupcake, I'll kill him!" Smidge yelled, turning around to storm out of the room.

"Shush," Branch warned her. He wanted to see what had happened in its entirety.

They could see that Poppy had trouble keeping her balance. The cup crashed on the floor and she slowly fell into the water. Disoriented, she pulled her hand up, but Creek didn't offer any help. She sank deeper.

"You'll be in the history books. The mad queen who burned her city and drowned afterward. Quite ironic."

"Smidge," Branch took a deep, shaky breath. "Gather everyone at the speech mushroom."