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“Everyone, to the damn hedge maze!” Lord Airavis cheers on, as the attending archfey filter into the greenery. Excited chatter carries on the wind, curiosity about what the prize might be, promises of turnabouts and trysts, strategies betwixt groups of friends… The honored guests make their way through the entrance, and the chatter dwindles, until only Rue is left. As the Master of Ceremonies, it would be improper – nay, unconscionable – were they to emerge victorious. Besides, there was much to think about. A turn about the hedges may be just the thing to clear their mind.
On stepping through the entrance, Rue finds themselves alone with their thoughts, the living walls reaching tendrils out to touch their claws, as if the plants themselves were rejoicing with them. What a day it has been thus far, and it’s only just begun! The exhilaration at their reception during tea, the almost overwhelming positivity offered by those nearest, and dearest Wuvvy’s unwavering support making this possible… It was almost everything the Mistrex of the Bloom could ask.
“A magnificent entrance… Rue.” The memory of those words, said in the gruff timbre of Captain K.P. Hob, causes their face to heat, their heart to pound. They daren’t hope, not after the duel so recently concluded, that Hob may still hold those tender feelings, and yet… They did not miss the stuttering steps as their eyes locked, nor the brief flash of admiration in his eyes. Surely, there have been more unlikely romances, more sordid tales than this? Rue longs to explain themselves to the most honorable Captain, to know where he stood, but… to demand an audience so soon would be… uncouth.
Lost in thought, Rue follows the paths laid out by the ever-changing hedges, wondering how they might make amends with dearest Hob, when they reach a dead end, spacious and nearly circular. With a sigh, they attempt to turn back, only to find their retreat fully closed. Their attempt to impress their will upon the plants, as was granted to them earlier on, yields no effect either. It appears, for all intents and purposes, they will be trapped here until the game ends.
… Or so they thought. As they had begun to get comfortable, a new gap appears in the hedge, and who should come walking through but the object of Rue’s attentions: Captain K.P. Hob, fur riddled with twigs and leaves, looking not at all the worse for wear. Muttering below his breath at “this most aggressive brush,” he looks about the clearing and, upon meeting Rue’s large, black eyes, froze in place. His eyes remain locked on Rue’s for just a moment more than prudent, but Rue cannot help but wish for more, for his eyes to remain focused on them, on only them. Hob clears his throat as he tries to back out, but finds his path blocked, the pair now sealed together in the clearing. “I… apologize, for the distress you must feel at being trapped with me.” He shrinks in on himself, clearly trying to put both physical and emotional distance between the two.
Alone, in this clearing, so close and yet so far, Rue refuses to stay silent. “Please, Captain. It’s no trouble to have your company. Though, I confess, I had not anticipated meeting you again quite like this. I had, perhaps foolishly, been hoping for a… more private audience, once the day has done.” Hob straightens and slowly turns to Rue, seemingly searching their eyes for the truth. Rue cannot help but reminisce on longing glances, on his brief stumble, even on the letter that they had written, the letter that caused all this tension in the first place. Their dear, brave soldier sharply inhales, clearly finding something he was looking for, deep within their eyes. Rue cannot bring themselves to look away. “If you have any question, please ask. I owe you that much.”
The goblin inhales deeply, fist clenching at his side, his eyes boring into the owlbear’s with great intensity, though his ears are pinned back, flat against his head. “I implore you, speak plainly. I have not the talent for words that others have.” Hob cannot hide the hurt, nor the betrayal, he feels in his grimacing countenance. His voice takes on a rough quality as he continues. “I now ask, for the fifth time, what manner of satisfaction was demanded of me. What had I done that was so onerous, so offensive, as to force the Lady Wuvvy to act in your stead? Were my attentions so unwelcome? Had you but said a word, I would have ceased immediately. Even now, having been denied the knowledge repeatedly, I would still seek to make it right. So, please. I ask once more. What was my wrongdoing?”
Rue’s heart aches for the fey across the clearing. “You have done nothing… And yet, for me, you have changed everything.” They conjure a small, round table with two chairs, sized for both their seven-foot statures. “Please, Hob. Sit with me a while, and I will explain.” They take a seat, barely keeping themselves from trembling with nerves. The bugbear, still stiff, takes a seat at the provided table. As they come together, peonies bloom on every bush, causing them to blink in surprise. The one distinct advantage to this form, they think quickly, is that they can no longer be caught flushing. They close their eyes and take a steadying breath, a soft trill escaping their beak as they exhale. Wringing their paws, they glance away from the stern goblin’s countenance, clearly anxious. “I… My apologies, I said I would give you answers, and yet I don’t even know where to start.” A delicate, hooting laugh punctuates the air as they grasp for words. Hob’s face doesn’t change, though his ears swivel to listen.
“I… well, I suppose I should start with Wuvvy. She is my oldest, truest friend. The only one who knew about any of this,” they gesture to themselves, “prior to today. She has been an invaluable assistant and a most trustworthy confidant. But, that day, after a rather vulnerable moment, I was… afraid. And in so being, I had betrayed that trust.” Deep, unwavering shame is projected in Rue’s demeanor as they consider their conversation with the satyr, and the ensuing Command. They glance downward to their lap, smoothing their dress. “I am afraid, dear Captain, that you were wrongfully caught in the disagreement between the two of us.” Rue fidgets, unused to this type of honesty, this openness. Their claws have no loose threads to pick, nor patterns to trace… They risk a glance up to the object of their affection, and find his gaze unusually soft.
“And how did this… disagreement… involve me?” His voice, softened considerably, still carries across the table, his entire body leaning forward, yet seemingly unaware of that fact. His unwavering gaze meets their eyes, again searching for an answer. Rue’s heartbeat races, but they said they would give answers, and answers he would receive. Now, or never. They screw their courage to the sticking place, and meet his gaze, black eyes unblinking and beak quivering, as they answer.
“It involves you, Captain Hob, because I am finally allowing my heart to take charge, and in so doing, must confess that I hold you in nothing but highest esteem and tender affections. I was – am still – so afraid, of so many things, but I am no longer allowing that fear to run my life… And I can only hope that I am right in saying I believe you return those same feelings. I know I have promised you answers, but I dearly hope you will not begrudge me a question of my own in this. You now know the entirety of my heart, Captain… Hob… but where stand you?”
Hob stays still and quiet for several moments, shock evident on his features. He clears his throat and looks away, stammering nervously. “Well, I-I’m honored, yes, of course. I-You are lovely, Rue, beautiful and splendorous, moreso now than ever, and I-” Hob stops in his tracks, ears swiveling, just as a doorway in the brush appears. They both stand, Rue banishing the conjured seating arrangement. In the corridor of hedge, footsteps can be heard approaching in the distance. Hob clears his throat again, face lightly flushed, as he uses their last few moments together to convey a message. “If… If you truly find yourself in earnest, Rue, meet me tonight, upon the grounds. I shall have your answer for you then.” He takes one of Rue’s paws, and presses into it the same bell he hid on Wuvvy, before taking a step back. “I shall divert their attentions elsewhere, so you might have a moment alone. I… I hope to see you tonight.” He slaps his chest, stomps his foot, and bows in Goblin salute, before he turns and walks away, leaving Rue to clutch the bell to their chest, heart racing.
They cannot wait to meet tonight.