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“Uh, so what’s the issue here?” Lily Lexi Lexa asks awkwardly, thanks to her horrible social skills. And having stayed alone, locked up in her head for the most part of her life, isn’t doing any good for her already negative compassion points either.

At that, the bodyguard pins her with a stare so vile she’s surprised her whole bun of messy hair doesn’t just burn away into ashes.

She raised up her two hands in surrender. “Just asking.”

“The Armice are camped around town.” Queeny Darling, ever gracious, answers. Black tears burn trails down from her eyes, making Lily wince, remembering the times it also happened to her.

A total nightmare for a cosmetics lover, honestly.

And Lily isn’t even big on that.

Next time, she should get Queeny some waterproof mascara, not that those actually work.

“Who is Armice?” Every raises his eyebrows this time. And he looks totally ridiculous in a matching fur coat with his girlfriend.

The sugar plum fairy sighs dramatically, with a wave of her now-manicured fingers accompanying her voice. She sure is coming a little closer to her formal self—not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse, though. “Oh, I meant the mice army. Army plus mice: Armice. Yeah, yeah, my little word builders.”

Every just sighs tiredly, which prompts the regent’s ever-flowing tears to instantly dry up. “See, I triggered your bored-man side again. Boo, hoo.”

“Are you alright now, my lady?” Gilly asks her.

“Of course, darling,” she breathes out, then sighs again dramatically, an overrated expression in fiction. “You sure look extra cute when you’re worried about me.”

This prompts Lily to roll her eyes like a middle school kid disgusted by a Hallmark Christmas movie make-out scene.

What a cheesy fucking couple.

Pretty sure she’s worse when she’s with her Every-babe, though.

But that’s her, so it is different.

“Are they really camped out there?” She asks, pulling everyone a mile closer to solving the urgent matter at hand.

“’Course they are,” the sugar plum fairy answers her, taking a sip of the crimson-colored wine in hand.

“I didn't see them when I arrived, ya know.”

“Well, that’s because you need binoculars to see them, silly.”

“What if your binoculars are just faulty?”

“And what gives you the right to ask me such a question?”

“I’m the fairy queen, you regent.” Lily suddenly remembers her high and holy status.

“So act like one,” the real ruler of the land bitches back. “And you don’t believe me? You’re starting to make me feel even more bitter than my seventy-five percent red wine.”

This time, Every pipes up. “Queeny, you're not supposed to drink something with such a high alcohol level. Especially with potential enemies camped outside your house.”

“See, you said it yourself—there are enemies outside my house. That makes me sad, and sadness puts alcohol on my mind. So what am I supposed to do then, sing lullabies to Gilly?”

“You should be gathering an army,” Every advises. “And maybe making battle plans and faux peace treaties or something. I dunno, woman, I’m not the one with a political science degree, after all. Last I heard, that person is you.”

Queeny just rolls her violet eyes, the sadness earlier completely forgotten.

Gone with the wind.

With the roaring waves of the sea.