"Thatcher, come on!"

"No."

"Thatcher, my family is leaving in less than two days, you have to talk to them."

"They hate me!"

"They don't hate you! They just... don't really know what to make of you!"

"Because they think I'm a freak!"

Wander sighed, staring at the lump beneath the blankets of his intended's bed. "Sweetheart, they don't think you're a freak!"

"Your sister does!"

"Meander?"

"N... No, the other one."

"Oh, honey, Corsair hates everyone!"

"See, you think that helps, but it doesn't! Besides, she seems to like you just fine!"

"I'm her Wan-Wan, she'd kill for me." Wander sighed again, walking over to Thatcher's bed and climbing on. Quietly, he pulled up the blanket, looking up at the green glow of his skeletal lover's eyes.

"What do I have to do to get you to come out of here?"

"There's nothing you can do, Wander. I'm going to hide in here until they leave, and there's nothing you can do or say to get me out of here."

The smaller prince was silent for a moment. "Oh... really?" He mused, his voice mischievous.

"Yes, really."

"Not even if I do... this?"

Before Thatcher could ask, his intended leaned up, pressing his lips against the skeleton's mouth gently. The king-to-be stiffened, his eyes going wide for a moment before fluttering closed, completely melting under his beloved's touch. Part of his brain was saying that he should be a little embarrassed about how easily Wander could make him complacent, but most of him was saying that kissing Wander was really, really nice and who gave a shit if he was wrapped around the nomad prince's little finger, there was no other finger he'd rather be wrapped around.

Wander smiled as he pulled away, the blanket having fallen off while they were kissing.

"Now will you come out?"

"... Not unless you give me a hundred more kisses."

The smaller alien laughed. "Thatcher, if I were to give you a hundred kisses, we might never leave this room!"

"I see no problems here." The skeleton prince answered as he dove in for another kiss, cradling the fuzzy alien's jaw.

Wander tried not to laugh as he reluctantly pulled away, taking Thatcher's hand. "Quiredo, you have to face my family at some point."

The king-to-be groaned. "I knooooww..." He looked at Wander, his eyes big and pleading. "But I don't want to."

The orange prince smiled sympathetically, kissing the back of Thatcher's gloved hand. "I know you don't, Thatch, but if you and I are going to get married and spend the rest of our lives together, you're going to have to talk to my mothers and sisters."

The skeleton was silent for a moment. "Promise to give me a hundred kisses after?"

Wander laughed, hugging his intended. "Dear one, I'll give you a thousand kisses after."

No amount of kisses is worth this. Not even Wander's kisses, Thatcher thought as his future in-laws stared him down like he was a slide under a microscope.

"How?" Hope finally asked, lifting Thatcher's arm and inspecting it. "How in the name of the galaxy did this even happen?"

"H... Honestly, I don't-!"

Pop.

"Can... can I have my arm back?"

"Oh! Sorry!" The Queen Consort apologized, popping the king-to-be's arm back into the socket. "Sorry, didn't mean to do that, sorry!"

Thatcher couldn't help but grin a bit, seeing exactly where his intended got his slight awkwardness from. "S'alright, really."

Hope smiled nervously, glancing over at her wife, who was still staring at Thatcher.

The king-to-be felt his back stiffen under his future mother-in-law's glare. This woman was literally half his size, and yet she somehow managed to scare him more than the King of Demons and his Shadow Army ever had.

"... Prince Thatcher."

Thatcher straightened. "Y... Yes... ma'am?"

"I would like to speak to you in private, if I may."

The skeleton prince tried to ignore the sickening twisting sensation where his stomach should have been. "Oh... Oh, um, of... of course, just... uh, follow me, I guess..."

Thatcher shot a quick, somewhat frightened glance over at his intended, who simply shrugged back at him as Thatcher and Ana exited into the adjacent hallway.

Ana didn't speak or even look at her future son-in-law for a moment, making Thatcher feel even more anxious as he waited for her to speak, thinking that she might think him rude if he were to speak first.

"Did you know that Star Nomads don't ever cut their hair?"

The queen's voice was so unexpected that Thatcher nearly let out a surprised yelp. "Uh, uh, wh- what...?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's a simple question, Your Highness. Did you or didn't you know that?"

The skeletal prince swallowed. He did vaguely remember that Wander was rather particular about his hair, but... "Well, no. I didn't know that."

Ana still didn't look at him. "Prior to the Unification of the Tribes, hair was never cut due to the fact that our hair is notoriously thick, often damaging blades. Nowadays it would be simple enough to cut, but most Nomads choose to go with tradition. In fact, hair usually won't be cut until death, although there are those who have shortened hair. Criminals mostly."

The woman moved her hands to her head, removing the small crown and pulling out the pins keeping her intricately braided hair in place. The braid quickly unraveled, pale violet hair cascading down her back and just barely touching the floor.

"To us, our hair represents our life. The longer our hair, the longer we've lived, the more we've seen and experienced. To cut our hair means the end of our lives as we know it, whether that be due to bodily death or imprisonment. However, it also means that we give our life, our whole selves."

For the first time, the small queen looked up at him, her orange eyes surprisingly soft. "I doubt that my son was thinking of it like that when he cut off his hair, but to many, what he has done could be seen as him saying he would give his life for you."

Thatcher's eyes widened, blushing profusely. "I-I, I, uh, what, I-?!"

To his surprise, Ana laughed a bit. "Oh, don't be so nervous, young one. I too know what it is like to be young and in love."

The king-to-be blinked. "You... you do?" He paused, realizing what he had just admitted. "W-Wait, I-!"

"I wouldn't try to deny it if I were you. It's written all over your face." She smiled softly. "But yes, I was once young and in love. I still am in love, I suppose. It has been many years, but I still feel that my Hope is that same passionate, crazy young woman who ran over my foot in the marketplace."

"She... she ran over your foot?"

"Never get in front of a woman on a mission. Who is also on a bike."

Thatcher barely muffled a giggle, having to cover his face with his hand.

"The point is, Wander obviously cares about you very much." There was a strange, threatening glint in her eyes. "And if you do anything to hurt him, I will not hesitate to allow my elder daughter to figure out just how to kill you."

"Y... Yes ma'am."

"You should talk to her."

Cashmere jumped, nearly crushing the flowers in his hands. "I-I, uh, I, what, you-?! DAN!"

The Taurisian chuckled, patting the Baaah-hallan on the shoulder. "Oh, come on, Cash. You've been staring at Captain Sylvia since we got here! You obviously like her, so why don't you just go talk to her?"

The younger looked away. "I... I can't, okay? She's... she's really pretty, and- and tough, and- well, look at me! I'm none of those things!"

"So? Who's to say that you're not exactly what she wants?"

"Well, her, duh."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Dude, just talk to her. You'll never know unless you try, or would you rather wonder 'what if' for the rest of your life?"

"... You... You think you know everything because you have a girlfriend now!"

The outlaw looked a bit offended. "I don't think I know everything!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! Just... just a lot more than you do."

Cashmere rolled his eyes. "You're an ass."

The Taurisian grimaced, then glanced over at the walkway. "Oh, look, there she is!"

Before the Baaah-hallan could question what he was doing, Dan pushed him into Sylvia's path, flowers in hand.

"Oh, hey." Sylvia greeted cordially.

Cashmere flushed, his hands shaking erratically. "I-I, uh, I, you, um, I-!"

"You okay, man?"

Suddenly, the Zbornak found her hands full of daisies and lilies.

"Uh...?"

"Okaybye!" Cashmere squeaked, running away from the Zbornak.

"... Weird kid."

Dan simply sighed.

"Okay, so what we have to do is take the focus off of the whole 'dead guy' aspect, focusing instead on... um..."

"Where the hell did you find this guy?" Thatcher asked his mother.

"He's the head of marketing at some big company. One of the council members said he might have some ideas as to how to keep the entire empire from collectively uprising over the fact that their future king is not exactly alive."

"... Mom, it's a kingdom, not an audience. You can't market me to them!"

"Oh, hush, they're almost the same thing."

"I could be spending time with Wander right now."

"Ooh! There's an idea!" Andromache turned to look at the marketer. "How about we focus on the engagement? They did that with the Duke and Duchess of Cambrode for their engagement, wedding, and for the Royal Baby, and look! The approval rating for the Royal Family of Great Bretannia has never been higher!"

"That... that could actually work! I'd have to actually see this Wander, of course, but-!"

"No." Thatcher stated solidly, crossing his arms. "We are not using my intended as a marketing tool."

The marketer almost glared at the king-to-be before he realized his place. "Well, what do you suggest, then, Your Highness?"

"Oh, I don't know," Thatcher started, trying not to sound sarcastic, "We could try actually fixing some of the problems in the kingdom, for starters. Do you know how many homeless people I saw down by the docks? Way too many. And the smell, good glorn! We need to fix the sanitation systems! Also, there are gangs. Why are there gangs? We have a perfectly good guard here, why should we hog them? I say that we reassign a few troops, focusing on the heaviest areas of gang activity. Plus, it looks like a particularly virulent strain of influenza might be making its way through the town, and the one hospital I saw looked like it hadn't been used in years. Adding to that..."

"You're getting all this down, right?" The queen whispered quickly.

"Of course, milady."

"WHY ARE THEY STILL HERE?!"

Andromache sighed, looking back at her old friend. "I assume you mean Captain Awesome and his crew. However, if you are, in fact, talking about Wander's family-!"

"OF COURSE I'M TALKING ABOUT THEM!" Peepers yelled. "Have you forgotten that they're supposed to be criminals?!"

"Have you forgotten that they helped to rescue the person who my son wishes to spend the rest of his... whatever with?"

"That doesn't excuse their crimes!"

"Really?" Andromache turned around, a rather official-looking document in her hand. "Because these official pardons seem to say otherwise."

The captain's eye widened. "WHAT?! WHY WOULD YOU-?!"

"Have... have you not listened to a word I've said so far? They helped rescue a kidnapped member of the Star Nomad Empire's ruling family. Not to mention helped to rescue you."

"I-I, you- UGH!" Peepers finally yelled, stamping his feet in frustration. "You just- have you no respect for the law?!"

Andromache straightened. "Cornelius, I am your friend, but I am also your queen. I suggest that you choose your tone carefully."

Peepers glared at her. "Fine. I won't tell you that this is an insanely stupid idea, even though I believe whole-heartedly that it is. However, I still have to ask that you tell them to go. Pardoned or not they are still criminals, and it's not good for our image for them to be here."

"First of all, the public just found out that their future ruler is a skeleton, there is not much more we could do to ruin it. Secondly, one of them is currently courting my daughter, and has a very good track record in the Taurisian Justice System as a lawyer."

"Wh- What does that have to do with anything?"

"... Did you know that the Deputy DA of the Third District Court is taking a new position in the Twelfth?"

"Wh- Oh, no. No. No, no, no, you are not planning on giving that- that- that pirate the position!"

"Oh, but I am. He's got one of the best records for convictions I've seen in years. Thatcher actually brought the idea up, surprisingly enough."

"This is a horrible idea, and I will be here to watch it all go down in flames."

Andromache sighed. "Corney, be honest: Is this really about Magnum?"

The Watchdog was silent, which told her all she needed to know.

"You loved him very much, didn't you?"

Peepers said nothing as he walked out of the room.

He hated it when she was right.