Queen stayed in a nearby village until his foot recovered from the heavy block of wood he had dropped on it, whereupon he finally returned to Wienne. He had been away for one month and three weeks, and he hurried home as fast as he could, hoping to catch just a glimpse of Fie (among other sundry desires).
Unfortunately, nothing so simple awaited him upon return. For some reason, everyone he passed kept glancing at him repeatedly. Do I have bed head or something? he wondered. He tried to fix his hair with his reflection in a puddle, self-conscious in the way of any typical teenage boy about how he might appear in front of his crush.
Finally, he set off for the palace. At this point, everyone in the capital stared at him openly.
“Is that the great hero, Sir Queen...?” someone whispered.
“He’s the loyal knight who moved as fast as lightning and rescued the king from grave danger!” someone else whispered back.
Queen wondered what they were saying about him, but their voices were too low for him to make out. Well, no matter, he thought. He was used to drawing attention for his unusual looks, although, come to think of it, that had dropped off recently. So what was this all about? Queen walked through the streets of the capital, puzzling as he went, and entered the castle only to be mobbed by a pack of squires.
“Queen!” one howled. “Is it true that you and Heath—wait, no, Fie—are going to be married in two months?!”
“Yeah! And is the king really making you a count and giving you his wife as a royal gift?”
“And did you really injure yourself in covert operations in all that fighting earlier?!”
“Huh?” said Queen. “Huh?!”
What in the world? He didn’t even know where to begin. Yes, he had just barely agreed to marry Fie—no, scratch that. He had just barely made his desire to marry Fie known, but there had been zero discussion of anything as concrete as holding an actual wedding in two months.
Queen stood there, flabbergasted, and then he heard the voice he had been thinking about for weeks on end call, ever so casually, “Welcome home, Queen!”
He spun around, and there he saw Fie—dressed as a girl, not in her usual squire’s uniform, and surrounded by an entourage of servants and retainers. The fact that she was not the girl he knew from her time as a squire brought him a slight pang of discomfort, even as he realized she looked every inch a ruler.
The other boys cried out in shock when they saw her. “H-Heath?” one yelled. “No, wait, I mean...Your Majesty...”
Due to the fact that she was the only queen left and, in fact, technically King Roy’s queen consort all along, Fie was to remain queen until her wedding day. To outside observers, this was a rather pushy argument, but it certainly got the job done.
Fie waved at the other boys in her usual carefree way. “Long time no see, guys!” she said.
No one waved back. This was their queen, after all, but they still couldn’t quite wrap their heads around how to treat their resident-troublemaker-turned-monarch.
Do I need to bow? one boy wondered. I mean, it’s only Heath we’re talking about here...
I can’t make heads or tails of this, thought another.
This is weird, thought a third. Downright absurd.
A fourth thought, Oh dammit. She’s actually cute when she wears a dress.
She had grown her hair out in the few months of her absence and now looked more like a girl. Yet, as she was comporting herself no differently, this only served to irritate the boys. Still, putting their irrational thoughts aside, they had heard that Fie was doing a surprisingly good job at being a queen.
Fie rushed over to Queen, her cheeks puffing up in anger.
“Geez, Queen! You caused me a lot of trouble by going and getting yourself hurt.”
“I-I’m sorry...” he said. His inner doggy ears drooped.
The maids, meanwhile, hung back but watched this exchange with great interest. One among them glared daggers at Queen with a look that read, “I still don’t approve!”
However, Lynette’s hostility didn’t put a damper on Fie and Queen’s conversation.
“And you worried me,” Fie said. Queen felt his cheeks begin to burn at how cute she looked.
She grabbed his hand in both of hers and began to tug him away. “In the meantime,” she said, “you’re going to help me, okay? I’ve been run ragged with all my work as the queen and preparing for our wedding.”
Even though he had barely returned home, he let himself be led away again, not altogether unwillingly. He was then subjected to an audience with the king and his ministers, wherein Queen was scrutinized and forced to recite fictional tales of his efforts on the battlefield (courtesy of a script received from Fie, authored by herself and edited by the chancellor). It took a toll on his mental state, but he had, after all, proclaimed his desire to marry the queen. He was lucky enough that he’d be able to marry her once this was all through. He therefore had no choice but to grin and bear it.
With that hurdle cleared, the two planned their wedding, even as they were occupied in their respective duties as queen and squire. The first task was to pick the wedding dress.
“Hey, whatcha think about this one?” Fie asked. She spread her arms out wide, letting Queen see the full, creamy white dress. Today’s dress selection was courtesy of an artisan who had tailored his works to the royal family’s needs and had prepared multiple garments for Fie to try on today.
The whole kingdom was now in support of their marriage, with the populace desperately eager to throw the grandest wedding ceremony possible. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to let their wedding be a tawdry affair! Rather than let it be all hush-hush, the people of Orstoll had decided to hold the wedding with almost uncomfortable zeal. (And with that being said, let us return to the happy couple themselves.)