33 Apocalypse Ave, Saturday Morning

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

High King Margo the Creator had gone to sleep last night, disappointed that Josh's magical meringue cake-- still hadn't held the right composition to take them all back to Earth. It had been fourteen years since she'd last laid eyes on her home planet, and while New Fillory had been kind to her, there was still an ache that wouldn't go away.

Oh well.

She stretched, yawning, the details of last night's disappointment only slowly seeping back into her consciousness.

"Deamouse? High King Mommy needs a cappucino."

Silence. Normally the little mouse was unflinchingly punctual. Especially about the caffeine.

"...Deamouse?"

She opened her eyes. Slowly.

"... huh."

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[existencemisspent]

"Oh fuck," Eliot grumbled when he woke in his room down the hall. "Where the hell did I pass out this time?"

He stumbled to the mirror, quickly cast the illusion spells he used to gracefully minimize his gray hairs and crows feet, then wandered into the hall.

"Hello? Fellow overindulging party guests? . . . Host?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Wait.

Wait.

That voice.

Margo’s mind jumped back to Josh’s meringue. Her gaze skittered all over the room.

She sat up instantly.

“El?!”

[existencemisspent]

Oh good, he was hallucinating again. This place did look rather familiar, now he thought about it.

"Bambi?" he called back. "Is that you, or did someone slip the wrong mushrooms into the faculty kitchen again?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo shoved her bedding away and almost stumbled, stark naked, into the hallway. But she was High King, and so she caught herself in time, redirecting herself towards the closet. There, she found a fluffy if hopelessly outdated robe, which she quickly pulled on around herself.

Then she burst into the hallway. “Eliot, is that you?”

[existencemisspent]

His hallucinations didn’t usually involve a lot of audible bumbling around. He usually hallucinated her more grand and graceful than that.

But really only the barest portion of his mind was focused on that. The rest of him was staring at Margo like she was an utter vision.

“Margo!”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo was grand and graceful. She was a king.

She was also barreling down the hall to hug him.

Fuck grace.

[existencemisspent]

Fuck Grace indeed.

“Bambi,” Eliot said, hardly over a whisper.

Hallucinations never hugged.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"New Fillory," Margo mumbled against his chest, "Trying to beat the multiverse into submission so I could come find you."

She didn't care it had been 14 years, or that she had a whole life back there. She'd never given up.

[existencemisspent]

Eliot let out a pained laugh.

“I’ve been at Brakebills. Trying to find you.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"Josh made me a magical meringue," Margo gasped (was she crying? Fuck, she was crying). "Guess it worked."

[existencemisspent]

Feelings were gauche but occasionally necessary.

“Well. That or Fandom hosting a reunion. Which I hadn’t actually been sure about attending. . . .”

He had never been so glad to get randomly transported.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo smacked him in the arm. It was better than focusing on the water that kept leaking from her face.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she gasped. "Asshole."

[existencemisspent]

“It’s not as though I knew you’d be here too!” Eliot pointed out. He let out another tight laugh. “You haven’t changed a bit, Bambi.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo wrapped her arms around his neck as best she could. "I don't know about that," she whispered, voice strained.

[existencemisspent]

“Well, you look just as beautiful as you do in my dreams.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo huffed out a breath that sounded snottery and weak. "Asshole." She smacked his chest.

[existencemisspent]

“Your very own,” Eliot agreed, his own voice watery.

Surely it was just particularly dusty in here.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"We should... game plan this out in a minute," Margo mumbled. "Figure out how to use this to... fix... something."

They would. The second she managed to pull her face away from his chest.

[existencemisspent]

“Find each other,” Eliot agreed. “Once Fandom’s fine with us.”

He was definitely not clinging. He would never.

“I‘ve been an utter wreck without you, Bambi. Henry keeps threatening to make me dean.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

"Oh no," Margo muttered. "Tell that old fart to just vanish down his bottle already and leave you alone."

[existencemisspent]

“Repeatedly, yes,” Eliot agreed. “He’s ceased listening to me. I think I need a proper High King to yell at him in my name.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo snorted. "Oh, I had that one down on day one," she said. "Fogg won't stand a chance."

[existencemisspent]

“I remember it fondly,” Eliot said, stroking her hair. “I knew at that very moment I was watching royalty.”

He’d been trying not to gnaw on his fingernails over the blatant magic of it all while she demanded answers from Fogg before taking the exam.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo let out a soft huff.

"Right," she said, smiling as she pulled back. Pretending she hadn't just cried whatever remained of her mascara off. "Enough sentimentality. Let's game this shit out, figure out what's going on magic-wise, okay?"

[existencemisspent]

“As best as we’ve ever been able to figure out Fandom,” Eliot agreed (though his hands lingered at her waist as she pulled away). “I challenge the knowledge kids every year to try to map Fandom’s nexus properties and not a one has managed to do it.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo was likely to spend the next few hours half-draped over him as they made their plans. She got it. "Figure anything else out worth knowing about?" she asked.

[existencemisspent]

“Special Collections is not associated with the Library of the Neitherlands, but it is just as likely to try to kill you.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Good to know, yes, useful, no,” Margo said. She rubbed her face. “Josh thinks there’s a way to manipulate space time with meringue. It sounds stupid, but I was out of ideas, so I let him… do his pastry shit.”