Chapter Text
Poppy blinked awake, groggy and warm. She wasn’t sure what woke her up, a sound, the breeze through the window? Then she felt it, solid warmth of the troll in front of her, and the startling realization that she was cuddled into his back, one arm flung over his side like it was meant to be there.
Oh no.
Her face burned pink, scratch that, hot magenta. Heart thumping like a drum solo gone rogue. She tried to slide back slowly, but then felt him shift.
Branch was barely conscious, but his hand reached out anyways, just to make sure she was still there. Then he tugged the blanket higher around the both of them before letting himself fall back into a warm doze.
This led to her burrowing into his back even closer with a soft sigh. Almost like a test to see if this was pushing him too far. He hummed sleepily and it rumbled beneath his ribs, a smooth vibration humming through her like it was meant to lull her to sleep. One arm slid around her waist as if it were instinctual, while his head fell back asleep on the pillow.
The guilt didn’t go away though, in fact, she was starting to feel guilty about a lot of things. Being wrapped around Branch, in a way both familiar and foreign like something she hadn't experienced in forever, or maybe never before. How could she want this, want him, so much when she had a whole life waiting back home? It felt wrong, not just because of what was happening physically between them but because of what was unspoken. Something more pure, sweet, passionate, sorta like…
Love.
Did she ever truly love Creek at all, or was it the idea of him, the safety of a title, a crown shared? Because this passion, the quiet trust in simply being together without needing to speak, scared her because it felt realer than anything she’d known. And as the grey troll's breath evened out against her neck, his arm holding her like he never planned on letting go, Poppy realized something.
She wasn’t falling for him, because she already had.
It was selfish to want this when their lives were pulling them in different directions. She took care of the kingdom, responsibilities, and a future already mapped out since birth. He was just…Branch. The troll who lived alone on the edge of the village, who flinched at loud voices and still wore scars, beautiful scars nobody else could see or understand.
And yet, being wrapped around him made her heart ache horribly. Wanting was dangerous, especially now. There were duties and roles in life that came first and above all else, right? But he made her want, in a way she couldn't explain or ignore. Something that went far beyond physical desires.
At this point, Poppy was so caught up in these thoughts that she didn’t realize he’d opened his eyes, not until his gaze caught hers. She expected surprise, or embarrassment, maybe even annoyance, but there was none of that in the look he gave her. Instead, his eyes were dark in the moonlight but she caught a faint gleam of tenderness there too. As if he understood exactly what she was feeling.
"If we’re gonna cross more off the list tomorrow, you’ll need sleep."
“Yeah? Are you trying to say I’m keeping you up?" she teased, still tucked snugly against him. “Cmon, you’re just excited that I let you add fishing to our adventure.”
“Fishing’s not an adventure, it’s survival.” He deadpanned, but his arm tightened around her waist just slightly like he was already picturing the excapade.
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, tough guy.”
He didn’t respond, too tired to argue, but his hand kept rubbing light circles against her hip. It took everything she had to not shiver beneath his touch, instead, she tried to be smart and get the last word first.
"And for the record, you were snoring. So really, who was keeping who up?”
“I do not snore, now you’re just lying so I won’t fall back asleep.” Branch’s hand moved lower to squeeze her ass, and in response all she could do was let out a satisfied hum.
"I’m not lying, I could hear you. Loud and clear."
"Right. As if you weren't mumbling the whole time yourself. Not to mention kicking in your sleep, a lot."
Their playful arguing fell away into sleepy silence, the sky turning light outside their window with the sounds of birds waking up for the day. Poppy's eyes were just starting to close, happy with the steady beat of his heart beneath all that muscle, when he finally spoke again.
“I feel like we need a bigger blanket.”
Maybe, but you're warm enough for me.”
Her voice trailed off as her breathing slowed, her body melting completely into his. Outside, the birds sang louder now, welcoming the morning while the two of them stayed tangled together beneath one of the only blankets still in the beach house, a smaller quilt knelt by his grandmother.
They should enjoy this while they can, after all, nothing lasts forever.
~
Meanwhile in Pop Village, the morning sun rose over colorful treetop homes and glittering bridges. Birds sang in perfect harmony, while many trolls began emerging from their doors with sleepy smiles and wide arms, immediately pulling each other into warm hugs.
Everyone knew to gather before 8:00 a.m. sharp to watch Creek lead them in a song of peace, love, and unity. He was good at it too, the perfect performance of bright smiles and even brighter energy, but something was missing…it didn’t take long for others to realize what or rather, who was missing.
A little toddler, barely taller than Creek's knee, waddled up during the final chorus with arms outstretched.
“Hug time!”
Creek smiled despite his exhaustion and knelt down to accept it.
“You're getting stronger every day, mate.”
All the mothers watching cooed over the sweet exchange, their eyes following him appreciatively. He was charming, in an effortless way that made even the most hardened hearts swoon.
"He’d make for a great father." One of them sighed dreamily, while another nodded beside her. "Look how good he is with the young ones!"
The lavender prince soaked in the attention for a blissful moment, a small smile lighting his face. Then a little voice piped up, breaking the moment.
"Where's Princess Poppy?"
Immediately all eyes were on Creek, the mothers going silent in anticipation. The little troll tilted his head, eyes wide with innocent curiosity. The answer came quickly, almost too quickly.
"She's on a little trip to visit some friends."
There was a collective sigh, an “awww..” at the thought of the princess being away. The little troll seemed unsatisfied though, his tiny brow creasing as he stared up at Creek.
"Oh..well, when is she coming back!?”
“Soon, I promise. Everyone needs a break every now and then. But she’ll be back ready to give you the biggest hugs, ok?”
His smile never dropped, but there was something behind his eyes, something tight and tired that didn't belong in a village built on joy.
King Peppy was there too of course, clipboard in hand and a long list of tasks to tackle. Every once in a while, he'd turn to Creek with some project at hand, or some issue that needed addressing. He didn't even flinch when the little troll asked their princess's whereabouts, he just watched his son in law’s performance with calculating eyes, waiting.
Both men walked up the castle pathway, Peppy unusually quiet beside him. Creek finally broke, nudging him with a smirk.
“Alright, what’s with the look? Like you’re judging my every move.”
”Not judging, just supervising."
“Is there a difference?” He teased, though the lightheartedness didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Peppy stopped walking and turned to face him fully, expression unreadable for a beat too long.
“Do you know when she’s coming back?”
"No, I don’t. And honestly? It’s a little irresponsible not to say anything. She’s the queen, well, future queen. Our people are wondering where she is, as do I. She could’ve at least sent a busy bee.”
“Two weeks.”
“Oh so she told you? How come nobody bothered to tell me?”
They passed through the grand entrance, guards holding open the doors with respectful nods as they passed.
"The purpose of this vacation is for my daughter to have a break, a REAL one, without worrying about every little thing falling apart. And for you to step up. You’ve been dodging responsibilities half the time, running off on 'impromptu tours' without telling her where you go or when you’ll be back. So yes, I didn’t tell you the details because this time, it’s your turn to hold things together while someone else gets to breathe." Peppy gave him a long look, serious but not completely cruel. "You’re meant to be the future king of this village. That means actually leading, not just singing when it’s convenient."
"Those tours are important," he shot back, defensiveness creeping in. "I’m not just a prince but an author! That’s something I took pride in long before me and Poppy took on the kingdom.”
"And that’s all fine and dandy, but being a prince first is a responsibility that trumps everything else, especially a hobby. Doesn't change the fact that my daughter is tired, physically and emotionally. Her own husband has been more absent than present, and it’s starting to show. Most of the village hasn’t noticed yet, but you should see some of the gossip columns.”
"They get paid to exaggerate everything, you put too much stock in that rubbish.”
"I’m well aware of what they do, son, but you'd be foolish to think they don't hold some truths here and there too.”
"Yes, yes, whatever. We've had this argument a million times already. But fine, you're right. Focus on the kingdom. I know it'll be ours one day, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
"At least we can agree on that."
~
So that’s what they did. Peppy and Creek moved through the castle halls with purpose, task after task. First, they met with the joy coordinator reviewing plans for the upcoming hug fest, a village tradition where every troll had to give at least ten hugs before sundown. Creek signed off on new glitter scented tissues because tears of joy were inevitable, though he grimaced at the “extra sparkles” budget line.
The royal tailor squealed and nearly fainted at seeing the two of them.
“Ah, your highness! How wonderful to see you out and about! You must come see the new velvet I received today, it’s the most splendid, rich purple and magenta, you’d look simply divine-“
The king held up a hand, cutting off the hyper troll. “Muse, we came to finalize the adjustments for hug-fest, as well as some new royal attire. Think you’re up for the challenge?”
“Of course, of course! Both of you up, up!” She pointed to two small flower shaped pedestals near the back of her shop. “Step right up, gentlemen. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
Creek ran a hand over the soft cashmere, admiring the intricate designs. Peppy, meanwhile, was less than enthusiastic about his upcoming fitting. He grimaced as Muse poked and prodded his flab.
"Oh, if only the princess were here. I have a perfect design for her.” Muse lamented as she measured his waist. “It says bold, with a touch of glitter. She’s just been giving off such a fierce vibe lately and it’s to die for! Me and Satin were discussing color pallets for it, but I still need Chenille’s opinion.”
While Muse rambled on about color pallets and fabric, Creek found his mind wandering. The mention of his wife brought a faint furrow to his brow. Was he missing something in their relationship, besides the obvious? He thought back to their recent interactions, trying to recall any signs of that fierce vibe everyone else seemed to see.
The more he thought, the more left out he felt. Because he quite literally has talent for reading people, it was how he became a successful author in the first place, but in his own marriage...well, she felt like a novel he only knew the summary of.
Peppy loudly cleared his throat, which snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Excuse me, what were you saying?"
Muse huffed, hands on her hips. “I said lift your arms."
Surprised he'd missed the request, Creek apologetically obeyed, raising his arms above his head while she draped a tape measure across his chest.
Peppy disappeared into a changing room, grumbling as he went. Meanwhile, Muse continued measuring and murmuring to herself.
"You know, I have quite the knack for reading people." She glanced up at Creek while looping the tape measure under his ribcage. "Most trolls tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves..but it’s a lot different for royals.”
He quirked an eyebrow, interest piqued. “So how do you read us?”
"Well, it’s not what you say but how you move when no one’s watching. How you touch things, or avoid touching them." She adjusted the tape slightly with a critical eye. “And the way you hold your smile.”
"I write the same way, show, don’t tell. It’s how you make a character feel real."
"That's the ironic thing about it. Authors like yourself, talented with words but not always so sharp when it comes to your own actions.”
His face remained neutral but he couldn't help but be a little bit offended by that statement.
"I’d like to think I know myself pretty well.“
"Oh, I don’t doubt that." She said breezily, moving to finish measuring his inseam. "But there's still things you miss. Like the way you keep rubbing your wrist when your mind starts going off somewhere else."
He stopped mid movement as if caught red handed. She simply gave him a knowing smile before adjusting her glasses, scribbling on her clipboard.
"What about my wife?" Creek blurted out before he could stop himself, "How would you read her? You know, from one analyzer to another.”
"Poppy?" Muse tilted her head, voice softening just a touch. "Most see her as relatable. She carries herself like someone who’s been smiling for too long, but not because she’s happy. Because she has to. But lately? There's a shift. Lighter steps when no one's looking. Her laugh, real now, not performed. And don’t even get me started on how she hasn't worn anything lavender since last season…color pallet says everything about a troll. She used to wear it all the time.”
Silence settled over them, thick and telling as the weight of what he might’ve missed pressed down harder than any crown ever could.
“And me?”
"You?" Muse stepped back, sizing him up with a glance that felt like it peeled back layers. "You're polished. Always on beat, always ready with a smile or a line because you know how the story should go." She tapped her clipboard. "But your eyes? They drift. Like you’re rereading the same page over and over, skipping back to the fun chapter before the romance gets stale and domestic.“
"You say that as if it's a bad thing."
"Not bad. Just…noticeable." She gave him a small, knowing smile. "And sometimes, the most perceptive authors are the last ones to see their own plot twist.”
Peppy steps out of the changing room, striking a dramatic pose in his new magenta suit, tailored perfectly to his slightly round frame with golden thread embroidery along the collar and cuffs.
“Stunning! The color brings out your inner confidence!” Muse clapped her hands together.
Creek forced a smile, offering polite praise.
“Looks nice.”
"What about you? Let’s see that royal fit of yours." Peppy puffed out his chest, clearly pleased with the results seen in the mirror.
Muse gestured for him to head towards the changing room. She fussed over his suit's fit, adjusting the shoulders and stitching, meanwhile he found himself wondering what other details he'd missed.
The suit fit Creek like a second skin, tailored just right to his lean frame. The dark purple fabric shimmered faintly in the light, threaded with tiny silver accents that caught the eye without screaming for attention. Underneath, a crisp white collar peeked out from the jacket’s edge, giving him a sharp, regal look, more mature than his usual flashy performance outfits.
"Now that...that's future king energy."
"You think so?" He asked, doing a turn in front of the mirror to admire the outfit.
"Absolutely." Muse nodded, "The purple exudes confidence but the white collar gives you that humble, regal look. You're not just a flashy prince, you're the future king of Pop."
"Looks good," Peppy admitted, voice even. "But looking like a king and being one are two different things."
"I know, and I’ll prove I can be.”
…
Later that night, the castle was quiet. The moon hung high, casting soft light through the stained glass windows of the east wing. Creek moved quietly down the hall, glancing over his shoulder before pulling Nova inside him and Poppy’s bedroom. She wasn’t dressed for the media tonight, no bright makeup, no camera slung across her chest. Just a simple dress and loose curls framing her face.
“If anyone sees you-”
"They won’t." She shut the door behind them with a soft click. “I’m literally the pinnacle of troll media, remember?”
But even as he pulled her in, his gaze flickered to a photo on the nightstand. One of him and Poppy at last year’s Hug Fest, both smiling like they still meant it. And for the first time…he didn’t feel cocky or proud. He felt small.
Still, he leaned in. Because some habits die louder than silence.
They made out for a bit, hands wandering, lips hungry and eyes closed. But then Nova pulled away, lips swollen and hair tousled.
“I need to freshen up” she murmured against his mouth. “Then we can enjoy the…royal luxury of your bedroom properly.”
Creek watched her grab her bag, disappearing into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze falling on that photo again. When he moved to put it face down he ended up knocking a scrapbook over in the process.
He cursed under his breath, It was open to a page from years ago, their first meeting at the Royal Banquet. There she was, young Poppy in a glittering pink dress, eyes wide with excitement as he handed her a cupcake shaped like a star. He remembered that night, how charged he’d been beneath the charm, how real her laugh had sounded. His fingers lingered on the photo longer than they should have.
"Find anything interesting in there?"
"You're back." It came out too fast, awkward. Nova raised an eyebrow, eyeing the scrapbook on the bed. "Uh, I was just looking through some old memories." He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant.
"You guys looked so innocent." Her manicured nails traced the edges of the photo.
"Things were simple then.”
"Yeah, well simple gets boring." Nova closed the scrapbook, setting it back down.
For whatever reason that comment made him defensive, though he wasn't sure why.
“Simple isn’t always bad.”
"Spoken like a true prince. But some things aren't meant to be held onto."
Heat quickly took over again, he went willingly enough, stumbling until his legs hit the bed, pulling her down into his lap. But even as she straddled him and pulled his suit off, his eyes drifted across the room. Poppy’s hairbrush, a pair of earrings, her favorite perfume. Those stupid glittery throw pillows. Seeing her stuff didn’t feel right, especially not now.
"Wait, babe, just.." He put a hand on her hip to stop her, heart in his throat, guilt making his skin prick. She pulled back, confusion replacing the passion in her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"I...." He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead, guilt and desire warring within him. "This is wrong, we know it’s wrong.”
"So?" She ran her hands along his bare chest, a smirk curling on her lips. "We’ve never let that stop us before".
"Things are changing." Creek caught her wandering hands, holding them still. “Peppy has high expectations for me to lead perfectly in Poppy’s absence..if he found out about this I’d be fucked.”
"And? Since when do you care about things like expectations?" Nova rolled her eyes, shifting in his lap to get more comfortable. He let out a frustrated sigh. It was hard to focus on anything when she was so tempting.
"It's more than that.”
"And you think sleeping with me would make you a bad king? Everyone has their vices, baby. Even wives who disappear for weeks without telling their husbands where they went."
He didn’t respond to that. Because he knew she was trying to justify it, but also because Poppy left without answers. Still, that photo, the scrapbook page, her dazzling smile.
“I’m not saying I don’t want you, I do, I really do. But not here, in our bed.”
Nova stood abruptly, smoothing down her lingerie with a sharp motion, the playful seductress vanishing like smoke.
“I need to be honest. There’s another reason I came tonight and it makes me feel so horrible to be the one who has to tell you.” She paced once, twice in front of the bed, fingers brushing her cheeks like she was holding back tears. “Because I can tell you still care about her.”
Curiosity got the better of him. He sat up, watching her every move.
"What are you talking about?”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything. I wasn’t even gonna show you..but I have photos you should see, from the last few days.” She pulled out a few photos for him to see. “I told my photographer to back off, that this was a private matter, but he sent them to me anyway.” Her voice softened into something almost sympathetic. “I didn’t want to see you hurt but I can see it’s already happening..and you deserve to know.”
The photos were grainy, but unmistakable. Poppy, glowing in the morning light, head thrown back in laughter. And beside her? A troll with dull grey skin. Not just any troll. Creek’s hands clenched so hard the photos crumpled at the edges. His vision tunneled. All that air in his lungs turned to fire.
“That..fucking freak of a forest troll is who shes out with?!”
She put her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him, but he jerked back. Anger, sharp and violent, rolled off him in waves.
"How long?"
"The photos started coming yesterday morning."
"How long has she been running around with that fucking disgrace of a man?!" Creek roared, shoving the nightstand so hard the lamp crashed to the floor.
Nova crept like a cat watching a mouse, calm in the face of his hurricane. There was no use in trying to calm him down, not yet. He was a tornado of rage, tearing through Poppy’s drawers like a madman. He flipped the closet open, throwing aside dresses and scarves in search of anything: letters, notes, some trace that could tell him when this started.
“That miserable dull fuck! What the hell could he possibly offer her?” He kicked the bed frame, voice shaking with fury. “She’s a princess, She belongs in palaces, not a fucking hole in the ground! He doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as us!”
He didn’t see the irony in violating her privacy while screaming about betrayal, and didn't care. All he saw was red, humiliation burning through his chest like acid. And like clockwork, Nova was by his side.
“News flash! You’re royalty, he’s nothing." she leaned in, letting her hand softly graze the back of his arm. "She doesn’t deserve you, Creek.“
He hated himself for how easily he reacted to her touch, the anger in him cooling just enough to pay attention. His gaze flicked to her hand, fingers tracing his skin and leaving trails of fire everywhere. And right now, he wanted someone to tell him he was all the things he wasn't.
"I can be what she can’t. I’ll give what she's not giving you. Even if it's just in secret. And if you still wanna be king, I won’t let you lose the thrown...just say the word.”
His pulse throbbed where her fingers wandered up his arm. In the back of his mind, he could faintly remember swearing vows to a pink princess in a glittering dress. Then Nova looked up at him, eyes dark with promise.
Their bodies crashed together again, desperate and furious. This time, there was no hesitation, just heat, need, and the sharp sting of betrayal cutting deeper with every kiss. Clothes were torn off in haste, thrown carelessly across the room as Creek shoved Nova onto the bed he once shared with his wife.
The castle stood silent under stars that saw too much. In the heart of Pop Village, where rainbows once danced and laughter rang without shadow, something fractured, quietly.
And Poppy?
She remained tangled in the arms of Branch, far across the sea, her head resting against his chest as waves whispered against the shore. Oblivious to the storm brewing back at home.