When Puck opened his eyes later, he did not recognize the particularly hideous light fixture that swam alarmingly into focus. He blinked, then slowly turned his head to take in more of his surroundings. It was dark outside, the snow falling beyond the glass pane of a window. No drapes, he noted; blinds - and not even the tasteful kind. A noise distracted him and drew his gaze toward its source.

Toilet, he registered distantly. That's a toilet flushing.

In his peripheral vision, a door opened and Sabrina Grimm emerged through its doorway. Instantly, as if she were the breaker of a spell, recognition hit him: this was her dorm room, complete with flushing toilet. But why was he there? And more importantly, what had just happened that he couldn't remember?

Sabrina's eyes locked on his and something like relief washed over her face.

"You're awake," she observed needlessly.

It was significant that Puck didn't have a snide comeback; it took all his effort just to process what she'd said.

"Was I sleeping?" He asked finally and the thought simultaneously occurred to him that he was lying on sheets, a pillow under his head. Bed.

Sabrina approached and stared down at him.

"Don't you know?"

Puck blinked again, and some part of his brain suggested that this was possibly the stupidest and most pointless conversation he'd ever had. He looked up at Sabrina, wondering if this were somehow a prank, with him - for once - on the wrong side of it. Then he noticed the bruises on her cheeks and the past twenty-four hours returned to him: the coronation, the Northern Prince, the fight at Sabrina's campus social - had all that happened in a time as short as that?

It explained why his left arm was on fire, at least. That, and the dawning awareness that the rest of him wasn't doing so well, either.

He grimaced as he propped himself into a semi-seated position and gestured at Sabrina's face.

"You OK?"

Sabrina snorted. "Me? You're the one that almost bled out."

"Temporary." Glad for the chance to sound dismissive, he held out his hand - the one attached to the arm that still worked - to show that the gash had already healed into a pearly scar and in a few more hours would be practically undetectable. "I heal fast, remember? How'd I get here?

"We carried you, but don't worry - no one saw."

"Who's we?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Celine and me. And . . . your minions."

Puck frowned. "My minions? They were there? I didn't call them, so who . . .?"

Sabrina shifted, and only just managed to hide a scowl. "I did."

Puck visibly relaxed. "Oh. You mean your minions. The ones I gave you for Christmas."

Sabrina rolled her eyes. "No, these were definitely yours. They gave me serious attitude."

Puck's mouth gaped slightly before recovering to speak. "Wha . . . wait - you called them . . . with my pipe?

Sabrina bristled and rattled off her defense. "Well, I didn't have mine with me. I mean, I didn't think I'd need to summon a flock of pixies at a party so I didn't bring it. Whoda thought, right? Luckily, I found yours in your pocket and they came because we couldnt've done squat without their help, it was such a disaster. Anyway, half of them went back to Faerie with . . . Sam or . . . whoever he was. Don't worry, I called Mustardseed and gave him the heads-up. I didn't know what else to do with him, and I didn't want to leave him there, and obviously we weren't going to call 911. I was going to have the pixies take you, too, but Mustardseed said we should let you sleep off your injury here. He didn't seem to have much faith in your medic. Not that I blame him."

Puck took this all in without a single interruption. When Sabrina finally stopped, he asked slowly, "Yeah, but they're my minions. How did you get them to obey you?"

Sabrina pursed her lips. Territorial idiot. He was missing the point as usual.

"If it makes you feel any better, your minions weren't very cooperative, as I said. Not that I understand pixie talk but anyone could tell they seemed ticked that you weren't the one giving orders, but I told them that I was going to be Queen someday so they'd better get used to listening to both of us, and it wasn't as if I asked them to do something bad - we were trying to save your life, after all."

She paused and glared, daring him to berate her for using inferior tactics, for getting it all wrong.

Puck only swallowed and asked, "And they believed you?"

And so the mocking begins.

Sabrina didn't even bother to hide her defensiveness. "Well, why not? You were lying right in front of them, covered in blood, most of which was your own!"

Puck shook his head almost violently, and tried to sit higher up against the pillows. "No! I mean, the bit about . . . being Queen someday."

"Oh, don't start that again, Puck!" Sabrina all but pushed him back down with her fist. "If I hear another word about it being my high calling to be Queen of Faerie -"

"Not that. They actually believed you?"

Sabrina allowed herself a smidgen of smugness. "And obeyed me. So what?"

Puck goggled at her, his expression unfathomable.

Sabrina stared back. "What?"

Puck collapsed against the pillows and crossed his arms. He looked like the cat that had got the canary.

"They can sense lies, you know," he said at last. "Which means you were telling the truth. About being Queen. Well, well. And after all this time shutting down anyone who brought it up. Huh."

Sabrina tried for one of those aforementioned shutdowns, and failed spectacularly. She'd painted herself into a corner, something she'd been doing a lot lately regarding her friendship with Puck. Her shoulders sagged and she knelt beside the bed. "You were bleeding to death, stupid. I'd - I'd have done anything."

Puck smiled wickedly. "I should totally bleed to death more often. Think of all the things I could get you to agree to. Like wear this dress again."

Sabrina swatted him. "Not funny!"

To her surprise, Puck took her hand in his. "Pixies are . . . " his eyes drifted to the ceiling as he tried to find the term, ". . . truth magic. Like true love's kiss. You know, the sort that only happens when you really believe in it. If my pixies obeyed you, you must've believed you were really going to be my Queen someday. And not only because you saw it in the future."

Sabrina hesitated. "But I didn't see that in the future."

Puck looked betrayed. "I thought you said -"

"I saw us together in the future. But I wasn't Queen then. I was just a regular, grown-up version of myself."

"Oh."

Her corner had gotten impossibly tight. With a sheepish smile, Sabrina tightened her fingers around his. "I guess that makes it doubly incriminating, huh?"

Puck lifted her hand to his lips. "Right here -" he kissed her index finger, "- is where the Queen of Faerie wears her signet ring, the symbol of her power. Mother has it now, but soon it will sit right-" kiss "- here. And here -" he shifted and kissed her ring finger, "- will be a wedding band, the symbol of my promise to never, ever leave you."

Sabrina had no words. And not much by way of thoughts, either.

Puck's eyes dropped to her dress again. "Did Magnus pick that out?"

Sabrina nodded, still speechless, her hand limp in his.

"Well, dangit. Mustardseed was right. I'm absolutely having Magnus design your wedding gown. Although if you insist on marrying me in jeans and a sweatshirt, I'm fine with that, too. I'm King now. I'll make it a new rule: wear whatever you like to your own wedding. You're going to knock any competition out of the water, anyway."

Sabrina finally recovered enough to try for some dignity. "Smooth," she bleated out, then awkwardly cleared her throat, "but you can't lie there in my bed making eyes in an attempt to seduce me, Goodfellow."

Puck grinned. "Is it working?"

The audacity! Sabrina, all ready to take his ego down a notch, hesitated. She looked at Puck, smirking and disheveled, keeper of a multitude of secrets and untold stories, yet more familiar to her than even her own conscience. How long am I going to fight this, she wondered. There was always an us - but it took a life-threatening situation to see it. Just like in the Everafter War, when we were children and didn't know the name for what we were feeling, what we were becoming.

A sighed escaped her as she realized that maybe the time had come to finally surrender - and instead off frustration, she felt relief. I'd as good as lost from the start anyway, and besides - she admitted as she bent toward him, - the consolation prize is none too shabby.

"I'm not asking this time," she murmured, surprised by her own playfulness.

"I noticed," Puck returned, eyes bright, and met her.

A long moment later, he pulled away with a growl, "If I weren't covered in blood right now. . . "

Only to watch Sabrina suck in a deep draught of air as she sat ponderously on the carpeted floor, chest heaving.

"Um," Puck said in amusement. "Did I take your breath away?"

Sabrina shook her head as she collected herself. A minute later, she chuckled in embarrassment. "Not the best position for kissing, I guess. Too much contorting. And I'm really wiped from tonight. Plus -" she glanced up through the open doorway, "- Celine could come back out any minute now."

Puck looked angelic. "Is that the only thing stopping you?"

Sabrina rose carefully and stepped away. "That, and common sense. My mother warned me about boys like you."

"Smart woman, Veronica." Puck closed his eyes and sank deeper into the pillows, suddenly weary again. "Probably just as well. I'm gonna crash, too. Be alright in the morning. It's a wonder what a night of sleep can do."

Sabrina exhaled, feeling oddly light in spite of the many things still left to sort out. Her roommate, for one, who was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who, the second they'd gotten back to their apartment, had gone straight to her room and shut the door.

"Speaking of, I probably need to check on Celine," she resolved. In all the chaos of trying to flee the scene and get Puck to safety before the wrong half of the world showed up, she'd let her friend fall by the wayside.

"Good idea," Puck mumbled. "While we've been making out here, she's been totally freaking out."

"You were eavesdropping?"

"Without even trying. Again, supernatural hearing. Look, she's not crying or any of those shrieky things you girls like to do, but there's been a lot of action in there. Pacing, chewing nails, getting up, sitting down, breathing. Lots of breathing. Like she's choking. The last five minutes, though, I haven't heard a peep. Could be finally lost her mind, or dead. My money's on dead."

"Puck!"

"What? It's the truth. The girl's just discovered that her boyfriend and yours are freaks, and watched him try to snap your neck, then me knock him senseless. All in one night. She didn't get to be in denial. At least when you found out about Everafters, you got to sulk and whine and call everyone else crazy for weeks before you accepted it."

He opened both eyes. "Surely you didn't think you could just come out to her and have everything be roses? Be glad she didn't call the cops. Come on, Grimm. If she was really such a good friend, you shoulda told her about me a long time ago."

"It's complicated."

"Of course it is. We're magical people. We're supposed to be complicated."

"I know! I know, okay? And I was planning on talking to her." Sabrina smoothed down her dress, studying the rips in the fabric, some patches stiff from dried blood and who knew what else. "And I was gonna take a shower first but . . ." She sighed and glanced at her bedside alarm clock. "I don't think I'm getting any sleep tonight."

Puck chortled uncaringly and shut his eyes once more. "Says you. I'm planning on getting plenty of sleep so I can be good as new when the sun rises."

"Look at you!"

Honestly, among all the opening lines Sabrina had imagined her roommate could've delivered, this was not one of them. To be fair, she hadn't pinned much hope on the door even being opened to her in the next century, let alone after her first knock. It was almost as if Celine had been waiting behind it and counting the seconds until Sabrina deigned to come check on her.

"Uh," Sabrina said, looking down at herself, the rumpled dress, her aching arms, the body that felt as if it'd been run over by a truck. Her face wasn't any better, she knew from daring a glance at the mirror when she'd used the bathroom earlier. "I would've showered but I wanted to -"

Celine swore, elaborate and colorful.

"What the hell is all this, Sabrina?" She said in between the expletives.

Sabrina wasn't sure if it were rhetorical, and even if it weren't, she didn't have a good answer upfront, so she stayed silent. Celine didn't seem to mind being ignored, because she plowed on about the fight, the secrets, the hiding, the wings, the shapeshifting boyfriends, even the fact that Sabrina seemed perfectly at ease with the whole shebang of crazy.

Especially, she corrected immediately, with wild hand gestures accompanying, that Sabrina seemed perfectly at ease with the whole shebang of crazy.

"So who -" she concluded, "-the freaking. Hell. Are. You?"

Interesting question, Sabrina thought wryly. How much time do you have tonight?

To her friend, however, she said, "I should've told you earlier."

Although given how time doesn't really make crazy any easier, I'm not sorry I didn't.

Celine crossed her arms in stony silence, waiting.

"I'm sorry about Sam," Sabrina offered tentatively. "I had no idea he was - uh."

Bad entry, Sabrina, she squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe I should go back to the beginning.

"Okay," she started again, "I'm going to tell you a story, and it'll sound absolutely insane, but it's true. And you can ask me anything you want and I wouldn't blame you one bit if you want to move out after this and not be my roommate anymore."

Celine raised one eyebrow, her mouth set.

"This could take awhile, so maybe we should sit down . . .?" Sabrina hedged.

Celine made sure her only movement was a very menacing blink.

With a deep breath, Sabrina launched right into it.

Never sure what to include and what to omit, she stumbled through her history, haphazardly backtracking to her childhood in the foster system and jumping ahead to the future plans she hoped provided some context to her current friendship with Puck. It was a mess, she knew, and by the time she was done, there was nothing she wanted more than to just sink as far below her friend's gaze as she could, which she did, right on the floor, with her back against the door jamb. She was aware that her door and Celine's were both open and that Celine had a clear view of Puck sprawled on the bed in the other room. Which meant that, even without employing the use of his magical abilities, he'd heard every word.

Celine said, "You know how nonsensical that sounded, right?"

Sabrina, neck craned as to keep eye contact, wisely said nothing. She noticed, however, despite her roommate's imperious stance, the slightest dip of her shoulders, a softness in her posture that was absent at the start of their face-off. Celine took a few steps backward and lowered herself heavily onto her bed, then dropped her head into her palms.

"If I hadn't seen what I saw tonight," she muttered into her fingers after a long, painful silence.

"It's nuts, I know," Sabrina admitted flatly.

Celine lifted her gaze at last. "King," she said, as if to clarify.

"Of Faerie," Sabrina supplied in confirmation.

"The modeling, the magazines . . ."

"Publicity. They're trying to find their own people, trying to make connections."

"And you're like, the Queen -"

"No. Not yet. Maybe . . . not ever. Puck's Mom is still Queen - for now."

"And everybody in your world is, like, immortal."

"But not invincible. We can be injured, even killed."

"Huh. And Sam - or whoever he is . . . he's some prince . . . ?"

"Of another kingdom - they're called courts - and his court and Puck's are enemies."

"So because of that he wants to kill Robin . . . Puck."

"I guess. No one knows what his plan actually is. Maybe when they question him in Faerie, they'll get something."

"And he used me to get to you guys."

"He used both of us."

Small consolation, Sabrina reflected as she watched Celine's expression harden. Not-Sam might have used Sabrina for the duration of the fight, but he'd baited and deceived Celine for months, biding his time and playing with her feelings for as long as it benefitted him. With compounding dismay, she remembered Celine's giddy delight when she'd told Sabrina about the amazing guy she'd met in a summer program, that one incredible road trip along the Californian coast, the wonder that he was so chill, so unlike any of the others she'd ever dated. Sabrina wished she had smashed his face in herself before the pixies had taken him away.

"So how do you know your hotshot isn't using you, too?"

In a night already full of surprises, Sabrina had not been expecting that. Still, the question was perfectly valid, especially considering what Celine had just been through. And there were layers in her roommate's words that indicated she should tread carefully.

"What do you mean?" She asked, keeping her tone curious, ignorant even.

"Men are bastards," Celine declared with passion.

Well, not all, but Sam certainly was, Sabrina conceded. She was oddly relieved: her friend had universally dissed all males; she hadn't mentioned the glaring fact that Sam wasn't technically human, had been other.

Aloud, she said, "I'm sorry you got mixed up in all this, Cel. I really am. I hate that you got hurt. I hate that you were dragged into so much danger. I don't know who that guy - Sam - was to you, but he isn't who you thought. And that's on him, not you."

"Didn't answer the question," Celine said.

She has a point. How do I know, really, that Puck has any virtue at all? Just because he grew up for me, and Granny unequivocally vouches for him? Does a decade of being in his company - sporadically, at that - make me an expert? He's four thousand years old - what about those other centuries and eras when I wasn't even a blip on his radar?

"I . . . just know," she offered at last, and realized in that instant that it was exactly what Celine had recently said about Sam, before everything had gone so terribly wrong. Sometimes you don't have to be with someone for years and years to feel it's right, Celine had declared. Sometimes it's just days, and sometimes only a single meeting.

Unaware of Sabrina's thoughts, Celine sighed, but didn't press the matter further. "So what now? I mean, so Sam isn't . . . Sam. I guess I'll -" she made a face like she was trying hard to hold back tears, "- just get over him and move on. But you - and this kingdom you're supposed to help rule . . ."

"Right now, my goal is to graduate. And that means I'll keep going to classes, I'll take the exams, then find a job, start my career. Just like you."

"And P - uh, Robin?"

"You can call him Puck, Cel. It's not a nickname. That's his actual name. And he'll go on being King. Like he was always meant to be."

'But -" Celine let her question hang unasked, her eyes flitting to the figure on Sabrina's bed.

Sabrina's eyes followed. "We're making it up as we go, " she said softly. "I mean, there's no precedent for this kind of thing, is there?"

They were both quiet, Sabrina watching Celine watch Puck.

"Well," Celine huffed, and hit the mattress with her fist. "I don't blame you for keeping secrets. I don't know if I'd done any differently if I'd been you. Even without the totally mental backstory, he's quite the find. I mean, look - all battered, he's still hot. Even more so, knowing he came for you."

Sabrina stopped herself mid-eye-roll. "It's what he does. All the time."

"And that's the most romantic thing ever, don't even try to deny it. How can you ever want anyone else?"

Sabrina listened to the ticking of the space heater as she turned ideas over in her mind, letting them finally become the words she'd been looking for earlier. "It's not the fighting, the rescuing, the kingdom, all that crazy stuff. It's the everyday things, y'know? Being friends. . . finally. Being there. Just . . . life. . . life between the wars, life right now, in the moment . . . that's how I knew."

She raised her voice slightly. "And I know you just heard that, Stinker."

"You can never have enough ammunition for blackmail," Puck called back, laughter in his voice.

At Celine's widening eyes, Sabrina patted her arm reassuringly. "Supernatural hearing, remember?"

"Not that," her roommate replied with something akin to awe. "His ears! They're . . . pointy!" She turned back to Sabrina, still stunned. "Were they always . . . did I just miss . . ."

Welcome to my world, Sabrina smiled.

"Bring her to Faerie," Puck said unexpectedly, and yawned. "She knows everything anyway. She can visit the ingrate in the dungeons and spit in his eye all she wants. She certainly deserves the closure."

And that's how Celine found herself ankle-deep in snow as she walked down the paths of Central Park the next afternoon. On her person were her backpack containing clothes for a weekend away and her laptop on which were two assignments that were due the coming Monday.

No way am I going to fail Pol Science, she resolved, so this Faerie had better have wifi.

She still couldn't believe she was doing this. Then again, there were quite a few things she couldn't have believed in the past forty-eight hours, even after seeing them for herself. To say that her world had been upended was a serious understatement. Celine had done many crazy things in her two decades of living the wild life (or so she'd thought) but this weekend put it all in the shade. She didn't even have words - and Celine always had words - for what she'd been asked to wrap her mind around.

Then there was Sam.

Celine had always thought she'd had a good handle on guys. They were easy to read, for one. Straightforward. Within minutes of meeting one, she usually knew what they stood for, what interested them, even their type when it came to girls - or boys. Most importantly, she could spot duplicity a mile away, a talent that had saved her from many a potential romantic catastrophe. The hot ones were often red flags, she'd expounded to Sabrina. Not the ones who were unaware of their own good genes, but the ones who acted as if they were. Reverse-reverse psychology, Celine had proudly coined the term. Call it cynicism, skepticism, whatever - she'd had it down to a science.

Unerring character radar not withstanding, she could still appreciate a beautiful specimen when she saw one. It was just appreciation, after all - if the cosmic gene pool had produced an aesthetic superstar, why not give thanks and enjoy him? It wasn't as if there were any harm, as long as she was careful not to let herself be carried away. The signs never lied, they were glaringly obvious (to her, anyway) and she would always be in absolute control.

Which is why, when she'd met Sam, she'd murmured Oh hello scrumptious under her breath and watched him with an eagle eye for three whole weeks before even initiating a conversation. By that time, the summer class they'd shared was almost over - if he turned out to be a boor, she could easily ride out the last few days in polite indifference and never see him again. But if he was as delightful on the inside as out, meeting naturally in class would give her the perfect opportunity to get to know him before she asked him out. A win-win, she'd enthused to Sabrina over the phone, and if all went well, her roommate would meet him when she returned to school in the fall.

Sabrina had laughed and said he was probably a lovely guy and Celine should just chill and enjoy the ride.

My radar's busted, Celine thought resentfully as she stomped through the snow. I picked up a psychopath. Who isn't even from this planet.

"We're here," Sabrina interrupted her rumination, and Celine noticed that they'd slowed to a stop. In front of them was a statue seated on a block and holding a book. Snow covered most of its features but Celine recognized it as Hans Christian Andersen.

She turned to Sabrina. "If he's meeting us here, he's late."

Sabrina took a deep breath. "Not exactly. This is the uh. . . secret entrance."

"Yeah, right."

"I don't blame you," Sabrina said. "First time I had to do this, I wasn't just skeptical, I was actually rude. So, there's a special um . . . screening process to get in. I should probably prepare you -"

"Why? Is this statue gonna X-ray our bags or take our temperatures and make us say all the countries we've visited in the last twenty-million seconds or what?"

"No. We just need a knock-knock joke. Let's see - how about you take the one about the orange, and I'll do the one about the old lady. I'll go first, and you can copy me and follow. Ready?"

Celine guffawed, then seeing Sabrina's pained expression, reined herself in.

"You're not serious?"

"Just trust me, Cel."

Celine didn't even know her heart could jump that far out of her throat as the statue blinked at Sabrina's joke and told her it was one of the lamest it'd heard in a long time. Then her roommate had vanished into thin air, leaving Celine alone and strangely close to tears in the falling snow.

The statue spoke again, and Celine saw its mouth move, as if it were just an actor in disguise and not a hunk of metal. "You got something for me, kid? You're obviously a noob. Look, it's easy. I need a knock-knock joke to let you in."

Let me in . . . what? And where?

How could this not be a trap?

A trap which, incidentally, had just taken Sabrina.

Who would never play her out.

Wait - who already had, actually.

Although, she had been telling the truth, given the circus of mindbendingly bizarre things Celine had witnessed.

"Hey, I don't have all day."

Celine fought back a scream. "Knock knock," she whispered before her mind could continue its twisted game.

"Who's there?" Hans volleyed dutifully.

"Orange."

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad . . . um. I got it wrong."

"Geez, kid. That one's a classic. Ya just can't mess it up."

Celine felt heat behind her eyes. I'm not going to cry in front of a damn statue! But I can't do this! It's stupid! It's impossible!

Hans sighed and Celine had the presence of mind to notice that unlike her own breath, his did not mist into the cold air.

He's not a person, she told herself sternly. He's a thing, just a fancy machine. It's all animation and special effects. You can do this.

She started her joke again and told it properly this time. Hans actually smiled before saying, "More like it."

Then she felt her insides fold as the quiet winter air of Central Park exploded into colors and music, and a voice said right into her ear, "Abandon all hope and enter at your own risk. Welcome to Faerie."

A/N: First, responding to reviews to the last chapter:

Alyce Reide: Thank you for your encouragement! No forgetful dust on Celine, though. Sabrina's opted for coming clean, and (spoiler) Celine will become more important later in the story. And I loved your sideways proposal using Faerie as collateral/ransom. You should write that into a story!

Hello: Thank you! I like to think of my Dad reading this and saying, "what is this fairy stuff?" And I'd be like, "Fantasy's trending, Dad."

Guest: (Jun 15): I am glad to be back, too! Sabrina's admitting a lot more in the chapter, the silly girl.

Ralphenation: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this other update - a bit sooner than usual!

Guest (Jun 21): Thank you for the feedback on the pacing!

The Queen of Valencia Torgue: Thank you! It's good to be back, and good to hear from you again!

The World Doesn't Stop: I was more excited to see YOUR chapter update! I'll PM back soon. And no, I've never rescued anyone on a sled, nor been myself been rescued on a sled, or been so drunk as needing to be rescued. Fortunately.

vrea: Thank you! Yes, it is good to be back, and good to be writing again. So glad you haven't given up on this story - I certainly haven't. I'm gonna keep plodding along and putting out chapters as frequently as I can :)

Second, Celine is in Faerie. This is exciting for me because I've always liked writing Faerie and all its denizens. I like the idea that it's not really a palace but sort of like an office building or mafia HQ with a random party section. It's a nice contrast to the North Court, which we'll meet soon. Upcoming chapters might be a tad political, which is laughable because I can't for the life of me do politics (but I'm going to try). This was a quick chapter to put out because it was already written when the last one was published. I like to write at least a chapter ahead of the one that I publish, so there's continuity. I suspect there are typos and superfluous commas in this one, but as I'm too glassy-eyed now to re-edit, I'm just going to publish this and come back in a few days to fine tune. Looking forward: in the next installment Celine gets some catharsis and P and S must make an important decision. Stay tuned!

~qas