#weird war dream? maybe while he is recovering post mountain and she becomes leader?

[furysburn]

❛ you’ve changed, or maybe i’ve changed. ❜ | ( THALIA & LUKE ) | @spectrophobias

The night sky was clear above and the scent of strawberries hung so heavy and fat on the air he could almost taste them. The Camp had fallen asleep hours ago and yet he sat leaned against Thalia's tree wishing to be anywhere but his bed in Hermes' cabin. Except he has not slept there for nearly five years now and, with a jerk, he realizes he is dreaming and he panics looking for Kronos—

Instead, like always, she sneaks up on him.

Thalia is alive and yet she is leaning against her own tree. " Is this death ? Or a dream ? " He asks and stares at his own hands noticing a soft golden glow to them. How her own face shines silver matching the crown on her head. He thought of her question and gave a soft bitter laugh, " I guess we have, haven't we ? We're a long way from sharing a tent under an overpass. "

[toothpaste-dragon]

After countless hours of writing and editing, I’m excited to finally share this!!

Far From Home is the title of a novel I'd like to write someday, but it's currently nothing more than a work in progress. “Nightmare,” the written piece under the cut, is an original post-story excerpt that explores the growing familial relationship between Baz and Toko, the story’s main characters. 

I worked hard to create something memorable and poured my heart into these characters, so I hope you enjoy it! Expect some lighthearted moments, angst, and fluff.

Genre: Science Fiction

Words: 5,731

For space travelers, there was no such thing as night and day. Overhead lights gave the illusion of daytime and shadowy corridors the illusion of night, but the dark, vast expanse of space provided no indication of passing time. In accordance with intergalactic vehicle regulations, most spaceships had a built-in light fluctuation system designed to protect passengers from various sleep disorders. The software itself was very reliable, with a mere handful of glitches reported annually. The only downside was that this day-night cycle exclusively conformed to the circadian rhythm of a single individual. To take advantage of this system, it was common knowledge that the passenger with the longest natural cycle should set the standard for the rest of the ship.

Baz found it surprisingly easy to adjust to a 28-hour cycle despite needing only two hours of sleep each night. Truthfully, this artificial nighttime had become something Baz genuinely looked forward to. Free of his two overly-chatty passengers, he could enjoy some alone time and appreciate the unfamiliar stillness of the ship, save for the constant hum beneath his clawed feet. He would sit in silence for hours filling out delivery confirmation forms, a requirement of his job as an intergalactic merchant. Once finished, Baz would leave the papers scattered on the dining table (Gerdie would surely clean them up in the morning) and shuffle to his sleeping quarters without a sound. Propping himself up against his bedframe, he would lazily drape blankets over his lower half before retrieving a book from the nightstand and indulging in one of his favorite pastimes. Reading.

Tonight was no different. With all the paperwork done, Baz’s snout was burrowed deep in The Battle for Kelekekelelu, a historical recount of a devastating war between the citizens and power-hungry leaders of the Zeta Quadrant. Survivors’ personal accounts filled the pages with gruesome scenarios described in full detail, such that the entire work was deemed unsuitable for public sale by government-regulated distribution services. Baz liked the book. His whole existence had been an uphill battle, so he found solace in stories of heartache and devastation, and it was easy for him to sympathize with the discouraged and oppressed. To know he was not the only being in the universe that had suffered great losses throughout their lifetime – it was comforting, in a weird sort of way. But it was also a sobering reminder that reality wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Life was hard, people were cruel, pain was real. And there were no happy endings.

Baz was about to turn the page when a distant thump caught his attention. A faint pattering of feet followed soon after, gradually getting louder as the spaceship’s smallest passenger approached the captain’s open doorway. Baz sighed. No more alone time.

The pattering slowed to a stop in the narrow hallway, and all was quiet. When nobody appeared, Baz wondered if his visitor had reconsidered. Three soft knocks told him otherwise.

“Baz?” The cracked voice of a young girl broke the silence.

“What is it, Toko?” Baz asked, sounding a bit more accusatory than intended.

Baz looked up just in time to see a purple alien emerge from her hiding place behind the doorframe. Eyes downcast, the girl’s tear-stained cheeks glistened in the dim light. She was quivering uncontrollably and kept fiddling with the hem of her nightgown, releasing her grip only to wipe away fresh tears. The girl’s thin tail was wrapped tightly around her left leg, a telltale sign that she was frightened. Baz’s eyebrows shot up.

“Whoa, uh…are you okay?” Baz lowered the book and scratched his right horn uncomfortably, unsure how to approach such a delicate situation. “What’s wrong, kid?”

“I had a nightmare,” Toko sniffled, finally making eye contact. Somewhat guiltily, Baz tried to remember if Toko had described ‘nightmares’ in the past, but with no success. Translation devices could only do so much to bridge the gap between their languages. His furrowed brow prompted the girl to elaborate.

“On my home planet, nightmares are the darkest of dreams. They’re not very nice.” Her grip tightened on the nightgown. “This one wasn’t very nice…”

She lowered her gaze and stared blankly at her feet. A teardrop fell from her cheek, hitting the metal floor with a meager plop.

Baz hummed a reply and nodded thoughtfully. A few seconds passed. He glanced around his sleeping quarters and fidgeted with the book that looked incredibly tiny in his enormous hands. Well, this was awkward. He felt bad for the kid, but he didn’t know what to do. What he should do. Luckily, Toko spoke before he could say anything stupid.

“I was just wondering if, um…” Toko started, but she hesitated. Glancing up hopefully, she practically whispered, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

It was this question that filled Baz with dread.

Toko knew the rules. She wasn’t allowed to sleep next to Baz for a number of reasons, the most prominent being their cultural differences. Members of Toko’s race, as Baz had learned, found comfort in proximity and platonic physical touch. It was normal for friends, relatives, and strangers of all kinds to give handshakes, hugs, and strange displays of affection called ‘kisses.’ To them, physical touch represented togetherness and familiarity. This closeness strengthened their fondness for one another.

Members of Baz’s race, on the other hand, valued their personal space and viewed physical touch as a deliberate act of aggression. Individuals kept to themselves, avoiding strangers and sometimes even relatives, though this practice was more frequent among males than females. A violation of personal space was never an accident; in such cases, males would battle for dominance and bloodshed was sure to follow. Any sign of vulnerability was a death sentence.

While Baz had essentially outgrown his own race’s hostile tendencies over the years, remnants remained. Togetherness still felt wrong. Closeness still made him uncomfortable. So when he looked into Toko’s swollen eyes and desperately wanted to make the bad memories fade away, he didn’t immediately open the invitation. But she was just a kid. And he was all she had. So maybe, for once…he could try.

Baz sighed and lifted the covers from the vacant side of the king-size mattress, turning to Toko with a look that wasn’t quite as menacing as usual. Even with tear-dampened cheeks, the girl’s face lit up immediately.

Bare feet padded across the floor to the large bed that easily dwarfed the alien child. Determined, she sprang up and clung to the fitted sheet in an attempt to scale the mattress, searching for a foothold in the process, but instead lost her grip and fell to the ground. She tried again, this time grasping for the bedsheet, and realized too late that the bedsheet had decided to come tumbling down with her.

Watching all of this occur, Baz rolled his eyes and dog-eared a page in his book, placing it on the nightstand to his right. He shifted his position on the bed and leaned over the edge of the mattress, offering a hand to the inexperienced mountaineer. She gladly took his hand and murmured a quiet “Thank you.”

Baz effortlessly hoisted Toko onto the bed, his massive hand engulfing her tiny paw, and gingerly set her down beside him. Once she was settled, he recovered the fallen bedsheet and spread it out across the mattress, using a large portion to cover his little guest. She promptly wrapped herself in the blanket until only her head was visible.

Baz was quick to distance himself from the girl, returning to his pillow and retrieving his book from the nightstand. To his relief, Toko stayed on the opposite side of the bed and snuggled deeper into her own pillow, silently welcoming sleep. He wondered if she understood the significance of her actions across their cultures. Either way, Baz was grateful she hadn’t moved any closer.

Ten soundless minutes passed. It was strange, sharing a peaceful moment with Toko. This will probably be the last, he mused. It wasn’t often she sat still for more than a short while.

Baz endured the girl’s endless bouts of energy and annoyingly unrealistic optimism every day. To tell the truth, it was extremely tiring. He might even compare it to a second job. But when she asked him to play pretend or read one of her favorite books or draw silly pictures, he complied (to a certain degree, of course). She still had that childlike wonder, oohing and ahhing at every new discovery. Something so pure – it was valuable in such a dark world. Baz grinned, remembering her week-long fascination with the garbage disposal.

The ship’s atmosphere had changed significantly since her arrival six months ago. Yes, he tolerated her, but lately Baz found himself smiling more often. Laughing, even. As frequently as he denied it, he cared deeply for the child. She was like family now.

He stole a glance at his visitor. Toko lay motionless, her back to him. She was miniscule amidst the colossal mattress. Baz exhaled a contented sigh.

She was a good kid.

Before he could return to his book, however, something caught his attention. Years of working as a smuggler had trained his eyes and ears to perceive the slightest of details, but even the most oblivious of onlookers would find it hard to ignore the sudden, sharp breaths coming from the tiny lump beneath his bedsheets.

Toko began to twitch, and the twitching quickly turned to trembling. The nightmare was still nipping at her heels.

Baz’s first instinct was to wake her, but he hesitated. Part of him really didn’t want to deal with a crying child twice in one night. Besides, comforting others wasn’t his area of expertise. With his harsh words and suck-it-up attitude, he’d probably do more harm than good.

In his mind, he was just there to listen and offer questionable advice. Thankfully, Toko was very open about her feelings, so he rarely had to initiate a conversation. It saved him a lot of unnecessary stress. Only this time, she was asleep. If something was to be done, he’d have to do it himself.

Baz returned his book to the nightstand and called Toko’s name softly. To his dismay, she didn’t respond and the trembling worsened. Steeling himself, he reached over and lightly tapped her on the shoulder, repeating her name. Toko woke with a gasp and whirled around reflexively, further entangling herself in blankets. She struggled desperately against the fabric.

“No!” she yelped. The nightmare had yet to release its hold, and she looked up at Baz with wet eyes. Her chest was heaving.

“It’s okay,” Baz assured, “it’s okay. It’s just me.” He extended a meaty hand, causing her to flinch, and freed the girl from her constricting cocoon of blankets.

She blinked. Toko seemed to realize she was back in Baz’s sleeping quarters. Breathing heavily, she choked back a sob and wiped her eyes, salty tears sticking to her fur.

“Baz, they…they locked me away again,” she sniveled. “I was all alone and I was so scared and they hurt me. And I kept calling your name, but–”

“It was just a dream,” Baz quickly interjected. He didn’t like where this was going. “It wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

They both knew the dream wasn’t real. But the memory wedged within the dream was very real.

Despite his attempt to console her, Toko started crying uncontrollably. She hiccupped after every few breaths, sniffling like a sick bloodhound. As much as he hated seeing her like this, Baz knew it was best to let her finish. Calming her would be easier if she could form coherent sentences.

Feeling quite foolish, Baz tentatively enveloped one of her long, rabbit-like ears in a giant hand, gently rubbing his fingers across the surface. To him, the gesture was unusual, but it always made her feel better. ‘Like mom used to do,’ she’d told him. Compared to his tough, leathery skin, her fur was soft and delicate.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed to a steady pace. She rubbed her eyes, getting rid of any remaining tears, and leaned into Baz’s touch.

“I didn’t like that dream.”

Baz frowned. “I don’t blame you.”

Toko hugged herself tightly, little fingers tugging at the patterned fabric of her nightgown. She looked completely exhausted, but it seemed she was too scared to close her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the open doorway, unblinking, as if something were to walk through at any moment. The bedsheet on her lap was covered in dried stains from tears and mucus.

Lovely. Baz made a mental note to wash the snot out of his blankets in the morning.

Studying Toko carefully, his face scrunched up in displeasure. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. Big surprise, he grumbled. This feeling of helplessness was really getting to him. He was strong, cunning, independent – he was the captain of a spaceship for crying out loud. Clearly, Baz was capable of doing things that required a lot of skill. It was the girl that should be clueless, not him. And yet, whenever he tried to console her, he never got it right.

What was he doing wrong? Was there a secret technique or mathematical equation for this kind of thing? His train of thought derailed, and suddenly Baz had a revelation. If he didn’t know how to help Toko, maybe he could just ask. Was it really that easy?

He had a feeling he was going to regret this.

“Look kid,” he ventured, releasing her ear from his grip. “You’ve had a pretty rough night, and you need rest. Is there…anything I can do to help you sleep?”

Toko wore something that resembled a puzzled expression. Having never been asked such a question by her parental guardian, she sat in silent thought, relaxing a little. Baz started to get anxious when she didn’t respond immediately, nervous about the complexity of her request. Finally, she spoke.

“Can you tell me a story?”

Baz internally groaned.

Ever since Toko had joined the crew, it was all sugar-coated fairytales and happy endings. That’s exactly what any normal person would expect from a seven-year-old, for the record, but Baz seriously considered ejecting her storybooks into space on more than one occasion. Fairytales were the least realistic depictions of life, and with each ‘happily ever after’ he was descending further into madness. But it’s what she wanted to hear, and the stories made her smile. So he read them again and again.

“Alright,” Baz rumbled wearily. “Go pick one out from your bookshelf. There’s a flashlight in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.”

Toko shook her head. “No, no. I want you to tell me a new story. One that belongs to you.”

This caught the captain off-guard. A story that belonged to him? Like what, a memory? Some of Baz’s favorite memories came from his time in prison, but those stories weren’t appropriate for children. In fact, most of his memories weren’t appropriate for children, even the good ones. So maybe that’s not what she meant. Maybe she was just tired of reading the same five stories and wanted to shake things up.

The only problem was that Baz had never created his own story. Although, after reading Toko’s storybooks, he’d noticed patterns in the plot and subject matter. Little girls liked princesses and magic and true love, right? Creating a story couldn’t be that hard. Something short and sweet was guaranteed to satisfy her. If not, he’d have to devise a backup plan. His imagination wasn’t big enough for two stories, let alone one.

“Sure, kid. Though…I can’t promise it’ll be any good.” Baz sighed. The things he did for this girl.

“Once upon a time, there was a–”

“What does that mean?”

Expecting nothing less from Toko, Baz turned to the alien who had so rudely interrupted him. “What does what mean? ‘Once upon a time’?”

Toko nodded her head. “Is that another one of your complicated space thingys? I just don’t understand…how does someone get on top of time? And why only once?”

Momentary confusion turned to realization, and Baz let out a light chuckle. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Toko’s vocabulary was very different from his own. Well-known sayings from his planet were often completely foreign to her. The girl had probably never heard the phrase in her entire life.

Adjusting his slouched position against the bedframe, Baz explained, “It’s just a fancy way of saying ‘a long time ago.’ Where I’m from, we use it to describe something that happened in the past.”

“Oh.” Toko knit her brow. She seemed to be processing the correlation between his explanation and the phrase. Like most phrases, it didn’t translate well in her language. Eventually, she lost interest and decided to move on.

“Can you please start over? The story, I mean,” she smiled sheepishly.

Baz hummed in reply and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. “Once upon a time, there was a princess. This princess lived in a big castle and, uh…ruled over a peaceful kingdom with her mother and father. They all loved each other very much, and nothing bad ever happened to them. And the, um, princess was happy.”

Toko’s eyes brightened in anticipation. Not a bad start.

“Behind the castle was a garden filled with flowers. The princess loved to walk through the garden and listen to the songs of the morning birds. The birds – no, the princess…uh…”

Okay. Maybe creating a story was harder than he thought. Where was he going with this?

Flowers. Singing birds. Magic. All recurring themes in Toko’s storybooks.

“One day, while sitting in the garden, the princess was greeted by…a raven. Yeah, a raven. The bird carried a pink flower in its beak and offered it to the princess, saying it was a…” What was it called? “…an ‘enchanted’ flower. According to the raven, each of the flower’s petals granted a wish when plucked. Warning the princess to keep close watch over the flower, the raven flew away.”

Yes, he stole the idea for wish-granting petals from an old folktale, but he wasn’t about to tell Toko. Baz made up in borrowed material what he lacked in creativity.

He crossed ‘princess’ and ‘magic’ off his imaginary checklist. All that was left was true love.

“A few days later, a handsome prince arrived at the castle. The king and queen welcomed the prince to their home and introduced their daughter. It was,” Baz drawled, “love at first sight. Or something like that.

“The prince immediately got down on one knee and asked the princess to marry him. She agreed, and they got married. And they both lived happily ever after. The end.”

Toko’s facial expression was a combination of bewilderment and disappointment.

“That story wasn’t very good.”

“Gee, thanks for your brutal honesty,” Baz retorted.

“I mean, you mentioned the magic flower once and never brought it up again.”

Crap. It was stupid to think she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Alright, fine. You got me there. But I already told you I’m not the best storyteller–”

“And how could the prince fall in love with the princess just by looking at her–”

“IT WAS BAD, I GET IT.”

Baz regretted snapping at Toko the moment the words left his mouth. She didn’t deserve such treatment, especially over something so trivial. But he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t made to be gentle, or even-tempered, or any of the things she needed him to be.

Yet there she was, giggling like it was all just a big joke.

When people met Baz for the first time, it was common for them to turn tail and run. Those who ignored this initial impulse left the conversation very, very sweaty. Strangers, colleagues, and even friends described him as frightening. Of all the people he’d met over the course of his lifetime, Toko was one of the few to think he was funny.

Baz collected himself and let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, kid. I’m just not cut out for this storytelling stuff.”

The statement, while accurate, served as a poor substitute for the apology he could never properly communicate. I’m just not cut out for this ‘father’ stuff.

The snickering stopped and a small hand pat his arm encouragingly. He glanced up at Toko. “It’s okay,” she smiled. “You don’t have to be.”

Something welled up in Baz’s chest. It was an odd feeling, one that was buried beneath the rubble of years and years of unrealistic expectations. Whether her response had been directed at his hidden insecurity or not, reality hit like a brick to the head. He didn’t need to be a ‘typical parent’ to be a good parent. He’d proven this dozens of times when she laughed at his aggravated outbursts during board games or happily chewed his shameful attempts at traditional Thruxscan dishes. Toko accepted his quirky, rough-around-the-edges love without hesitation and reciprocated these familial feelings in her own way.

He needed to start believing his love for Toko was valuable, albeit unconventional, and that she expected nothing more than what he could give.

“Maybe,” the girl proposed, unaware of Baz’s self-reflection, “we could create a story together.”

Baz blinked in surprise. “Whaddya mean?”

“We take turns telling different parts of a story until we reach the end. It’s sort of like a game! I used to do it with my siblings all the time.”

It wasn’t a bad suggestion. At least Toko might guide the plot in a logical direction, and it could help shift her focus away from the nightmare. Besides, it seemed his participation would be limited, which was preferable.

Without waiting for his approval, she scooted closer to Baz and eagerly bounced up and down. “I’ll start!”

The captain’s brow rose in amusement. Let’s see where this goes.

“Once upon a time,” Toko began, emphasizing her use of the newly-learned phrase, “there was a princess. She lived in a big castle at the center of a beautiful kingdom. The castle was big because she had a big family! She had a mom, a dad, and lots n’ lots of brothers and sisters. The princess never wanted jewels or shiny things because she loved her family more than anything in the world.

“One night, while the princess was asleep, an evil hogthropple snuck into the castle and took her family away. When the princess woke up and realized what happened, she was sad. She felt very alone in the big castle. So she left the kingdom to track down the hogthropple and rescue her family.”

Toko sat there, looking up at Baz expectantly. “Now it’s your turn,” she prompted.

He didn’t even know where to begin.

“Mind telling me who this ‘hogthropple’ is, first?”

“It’s a scary monster,” Toko explained, raising her hands above her head to describe its large size and frightening appearance. “It has six legs and pointy teeth and a long, spikey tail. And if you touch the spikes, you turn to stone. That’s why hogthropples horde stone figures in their caves.”

If Baz had to guess, the hogthropple was a make-believe monster created to discourage children from disobeying their parents. Even across galaxies, parental figures always used some form of fictional fear tactic to control their kids. Though, the more he thought about it, Toko’s race wasn’t one to establish good behavior by eliciting negative emotions. For all he knew, the creature was real. There was some wacky stuff out in space.

“I see.” He scratched his chin, considering how to extend her tale. In Toko’s storybooks, princesses rarely accomplished anything without the help of a knight in shining armor. Maybe this story required a knight, too.

“The princess had never travelled beyond the kingdom’s borders, so she needed help if she was going to find the hogthropple and save her family. At the advice of an old friend, she followed a winding path through a dark forest in search of the brave Sir Lancelot, a valiant knight. She walked, and walked, and walked for what felt like ages until she stumbled upon…she stumbled upon a…um…”

Toko noticed Baz was having trouble and swiftly interjected. “She stumbled upon a big, fearsome hunter and his trusty sidekick!”

Baz smirked. “That’s right. She ran into a hunter and his pal. And what did the princess say to these intriguing fellows?”

“The princess asked the hunter if he would help rescue the king and queen from the evil hogthropple. She felt powerless…she didn’t know where to find the beast and was too weak to fight it on her own. But the hunter refused,” said Toko, “because he didn’t want to risk his life to save people he’d never met. So he ignored her request.”

Well, this was taking a depressing turn. Granted, Baz also would’ve ignored the princess’ request, but this wasn’t the kind of uplifting story he had originally expected. He grabbed hold of the reins, hoping to change the story for the better.

“The princess was disheartened by the hunter’s response, but she veered off the winding path to follow him and his comrade. Surely, they couldn’t refuse her request if they knew she was the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

He nudged Toko, forfeiting ownership of the narrative.

“Instead of helping her, like his sidekick wanted, the hunter sold the princess to a group of shady bandits for a big bag of money.”

Baz wasn’t dumb. The lack of a formal education caused him to stumble at times, but he was far from stupid. There was something very familiar about this story. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Then it hit him. She was telling her story, their story, as if it were some sort of fantasy adventure. She was the princess, Gerdie was the sidekick, and he was the fearsome hunter. The hunter that had refused to help a little girl.

Baz knew this story all too well, and he wasn’t in the mood to reopen old wounds. Why was she doing this?

He supposed Toko had a reason, but in the end, he didn’t feel the need to ask. As much as he hated reliving past mistakes in the form of a fairytale, maybe she needed this. To process things. To let go.

“The bandits locked the princess in a cage,” Toko continued, “and she was scared. How could she save her family now? Luckily, the hunter and his friend helped her escape when the criminals fell asleep. It had all been a scam to bake some dough.”

Unable to help himself, Baz snorted. She had obviously meant to say ‘make some dough,’ a slang phrase used among his own people. Close enough.

Receiving a confused glance from the girl, he picked up where she left off. “The princess was furious with the hunter, but the hunter didn’t care. With the gold pieces in tow, he turned around and walked away without a second glance. Suddenly, the princess grabbed his hand and tugged on it fiercely, pointing up toward the sky. Had it not been for her warning, he would’ve been crushed beneath falling tree branches from the canopy above.”

He looked down at Toko, who had burrowed underneath the covers at some point during the story. She smiled and nodded, but said nothing. She wanted him to keep going.

“Uh…in return for saving his life, the hunter reluctantly agreed to help the princess find Sir Lancelot. At daybreak, the three heroes began their trek through the deep, dark forest.”

The little purple alien at his side didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. For the record, Baz’s personal bubble was larger than most, and the girl was much closer than normal. Though, for what felt like the first time in years, this closeness didn’t make him feel uncomfortable.

Again, she grinned up at him. She wanted to hear more.

“Along the way, they met a handful of interesting characters. The first was a nasty group of poachers, but they were no match for the hunter’s incredible strength. The second was a lonely gnome with a love for riddles, and the hunter’s sidekick quickly lifted his spirits with a few irresistible conundrums. The third was a swarm of irritated fairies, but they were instantly calmed when the princess offered to share her lunch.”

Toko giggled softly, thoroughly enjoying Baz’s rendition of their crazy journey through outer space.

“It was in that moment,” Baz resumed, “that the hunter realized he appreciated the princess’ company. It was going to be very hard to say goodbye to his new friend.”

Baz didn’t need to be coaxed this time. He wanted to finish the story.

“Finally, the three heroes reached the home of Sir Lancelot. When nobody answered the door, they walked inside to make sure he was alright. They were disappointed to find the knight cowering in the corner, refusing to go anywhere near the hogthropple. The princess begged and pleaded, tears pricking her eyes, but the knight declined her request.

“After leaving the knight’s house, the princess sat on a stump and cried. She didn’t know what to do. It seemed no one was willing to help rescue her family. The hunter, on the other hand, felt bad for the princess and weighed his options. Was he really considering risking his life to save the king and queen? He had a decision to make.

“As if on cue, the hogthropple appeared, his large body blocking all exits. With a silky voice and a sly grin, the hogthropple addressed the hunter as if he were an old friend. Indeed, the hunter knew this creature, as it had turned his lover to stone many, many years ago. The beast proposed a trade: hand over the princess, and he would spare the hunter’s life.”

Before he knew it, Toko was resting her head on his lap, peering up at him from under heavy eyelids. Baz tensed up, very much aware of her presence.

He’d spoken too soon. Maybe this closeness made him feel a little uncomfortable. He tried to mask his unease, eye contact with Toko wavering.

“U-um…though he claimed to fear nothing, the hunter was very afraid of the monster that had turned his lover to stone. So, to the princess’ horror, the hunter agreed. The hogthropple snatched the girl up in a clawed fist and slithered away.

“Once at his cave, the hogthropple showed the princess his horde of stone figures. Some were standing in neat rows, while others were piled on top of one another. The princess instantly recognized the closest statues as her family. She couldn’t save them. She was too late.

“The hogthropple fixed his eyes on the girl, telling her that a princess would make a nice addition to his collection. Before he could turn her to stone, however, the hunter and his sidekick appeared at the mouth of the cave. With the help of his comrade, the hunter conquered the beast, saving the princess in the process.”

Toko hummed. She was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“The princess was grateful for the hunter’s help,” Baz said, “but saddened by her family’s condition. What could she do? She was all alone, and there was nobody to take care of her.

“In a moment of weakness, the hunter offered to look after the girl. He was nothing like her real parents, and he couldn’t provide the luxury that came with royalty, but he promised to protect the princess and keep her safe. The hunter’s sidekick joined in, too, increasing their number to three. Though they could never replace her true family, they would be there for her when she needed them.”

The girl in his lap shifted, raising her head slightly. “And did they live happily ever after?”

Baz’s features softened. “Yeah, kid. They did.”

The smile remained on the child’s face even as her eyelids began to droop, moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. “See? You’re a great storyteller,” Toko yawned.

Baz was anything but troubled when tears trailed down her face. Her real family was a touchy subject, and despite her happy-go-lucky personality, there were moments when she could do nothing but sob in his arms. He was relieved to know she was taking small steps to release the pent-up sorrow.

At first, he’d considered changing the end of the story for her sake, but having experienced the consequences of living in a false reality, he decided against it. He didn’t want Toko to end up like him. She needed to face the truth.

Her shoulders rose and fell, her breathing slow. While still very displeased by her perch atop his knees, he tried to focus on the fact that this little girl trusted him. Even after all the mistakes and betrayals, she was here. And she was happy.

From the edges of sleep, Toko’s eyes flickered open and she gasped, making Baz flinch. She sputtered a hasty apology and moved away from the captain, resting her head on the adjacent pillow.

Baz was surprised. He didn’t expect her to remember his strict rules about proximity, as she clearly hadn’t reached an age where she could differentiate between their cultural standards. But this gesture meant the world to him. They had both made sacrifices to find comfort in this ramshackle ship they called ‘home,’ and this small act proved that someone cared, really cared, about his wellbeing. About his preferences. About him.

Baz chuckled, gently grabbing an unsuspecting Toko by the neck of her nightgown and setting her down beside him.

“It’s okay, kid. Just…don’t tell Gerdie I’m turning soft, alright?”

The girl’s tired eyes shined in the dim light, and she smiled. Baz received smiles like this all the time, and this one was no less special.

Toko snuggled close to Baz, who draped the bedsheet over her petite form. With a huge hand, he rubbed at the base of her tiny horns as she drifted off to sleep, something her birth father used to do.

At the sound of peaceful snoring, Baz carefully plucked his book from the nightstand and opened to the dog-eared page. He sighed, the corners of his mouth curving up against his will.

Baz didn’t believe in happy endings. But just this once, they didn’t seem so farfetched.