In which Marco's artistry is acknowledged, a threat is delivered, our squire converses with a dangerous prisoner, and clothes are safely delivered, including those of the Princess of Mewni.

Chapter Text

Marco was a boy on a mission. Nay, a sacred quest! One handed over to him, with the utmost solemnity, by his good friend and mentor, Sir Lavabo.

That the quest in question was simply to deliver clothes was besides the point! The duty of the Wash, thankless as it might be, was in fact vital to the health and safety - not to mention the general scent - of the entire Butterfly Kingdom. While Marco suspected that a delay of a day or two would not actually plunge the kingdom into chaos - nor malodor - he also knew that strict punctuality was a matter of honor for the old knight. Thus, it was also a matter of honor for him!

Marco wanted to uphold the duty of the Order of the Wash. That much was true. But, less abstractly, what he really wanted was to make Lavabo proud!

The plan was simple. Starting with the servants’ wing of Butterfly Castle, Marco would open a single portal from the Wash to each floor, one at a time, and sweep through the hallways in a single structured pass. Afterwards, the squire would repeat the same process with the nobles’ wing. Finally, he would take care of the deliveries outside the castle, one portal per customer.

He had budgeted ten minutes for each level of the castle, and a full two hours to deal with the few deliveries further afield in town. Fortunately for him, nearly all of Mewni’s inhabitants were expected to queue in front of the Wash’s pickup window to retrieve their clean laundry. Delivery was reserved to those in the castle, and the select few of high station that lived beyond its walls. So, other than Lavabo’s fellow knights, and some of the more reclusive nobles, all of his customers today where inside the same (admittedly huge) building. As things stood now, Marco was a full half-hour ahead of his projected schedule.

He grinned, satisfied with his work thus far. After all, a great squire is an overachieving squire!

Artax Ed, the Wash’s noble steed, accompanied him on his quest. The diminutive horse had been outfitted with a tiny wagon, which it used to drag the clothes corresponding to their current floor behind itself. Even for a single floor, the pile atop the wagon could sometimes tower well above Marco’s head.

Fortunately, young Artax was quite freakishly strong for a foal just barely the height of the human boy’s knees. Marco, once again, congratulated himself on having done the research before the start of the squire blowout sale, and managing to pick a horse with excellent stats and exceptional growth rates!

At present, there were only three more levels to go, and he would be done with the servants’ quarters. Besides, the upper floors, for the more specialized court retainers, tended to have fewer rooms. Fewer rooms meant fewer deliveries. Fewer deliveries usually meant less time.

“Delivery!” Marco announced, as he knocked on the oaken double door before him. “Order of the Wash, Squire Diaz reporting with your clean… um… peacock feather hat?”

There was also a white silk scarf and what looked to be a two-piece suit that somehow included frilly black shorts. But the peacock hat somehow still managed to be the gaudiest piece in that set by a royal mile and a half. That plume was longer than Marco’s arm. The hat itself seemed to be velvet and patterned with silver musical notes.

Speaking of musical notes, the response to Marco’s announcement came, surprisingly enough, in the form of what sounded like an acoustic guitar strum. It was then followed by a simple tune and a clearly improvised verse:

“...Hello dear stranger, that knocks at my door,

that which you bring, is what I’m looking for.

Wait just a moment, it shall not be long,

as I lift up the safety, and finish my soooong!”

Indeed, there was the sound of a bolt sliding on the other side of the wooden panel. Then, slowly, the door opened up to reveal a familiar figure, still busily playing on a wooden mandolin with his remaining free hand.

“A feathered cap, which is indeed mine,

and I am happy to see it delivered on ti… Marco!?” the songstrel exclaimed in surprise. His final couplet cut off abruptly, as his hand missed the last note.

“Ruberiot...” Marco muttered the name, eyes narrowing in annoyed recognition. He reflexibly pulled the hat back just as the sognstrell reached out to grab it.

The young man seemed surprised at that, but took back his hand and nonchalantly ran it over the length of his own head, nervously pushing back his light brown hair. He definitely seemed a lot happier to see Marco than viceversa, and his earnest smile made Marco feel just the slightest pang of guilt about his colder initial reaction. But, well...

“Marco, pal! I didn’t know you were back in Mewni!” the musician exclaimed. “You should have told me sooner. We could have hung out, just like old times! Remember? Hiding out in the vents? Doing acrobatics? Getting imprisoned and nearly tortured by rats? What an experience that was!”

“I got nearly tortured by rats,” Marco corrected the songstrel. “You guys just kept goading them on to do so!”

“Right, right. It was totally your show that night, Marco, I’ll admit it,” replied Ruberiot, somehow missing the point, and his friend’s irritated tone. “It was a great performance too! All of it. Remember when you rubbed sewer refuse on your cheeks for camouflage?”

Marco flinched, remembering the smell. Oh god, the smell!

“Yeah, um, I’d rather not remember that,” he protested.

“Au contraire! It was inspired!” Ruberiot’s face lit up with excitement. “Such a poignant commentary on the nature of tyranny and rebellion. A near perfect conceptual performance piece. Guerrilla art taken so hyper-literally as to transcend metaphor itself!”

“Um, uh... thank you? I guess.” Marco had no idea what any of that really meant, but Ruberiot seemed quite sincere in his praise, so, well…

“But, Marco, to be absolutely frank with you,” the musician continued with a shrug, “I am a bit disappointed you didn’t mention you were around. I thought we were friends.”

“We… I guess we are… we were…” Marco mussed, uncertain. Despite it all, he actually had ended up hanging out a lot with Ruberiot and his, um, colleagues, last time he had stayed in Mewni. Probably second only to Star and her family.

He hadn’t really gotten over Ruberiot’s antics, so much as simply gotten used to them. So, yeah, in a way, they were friends. But that still didn’t change one thing. One thing he was responsible for that somehow was - to this date! - causing no end of trouble for Marco and his best friend.

“Dude! Do you have any idea how many problems your princess song has caused!? The one you made for Star?” Marco said with a stern look. The whole ‘prince’ nickname and his unfair reputation as a pampered fool among the other squires had started with that blasted song! “And never mind the trouble it has caused for me... I can only imagine the problems it caused for her and Queen Moon! Frankly, I’m surprised they didn’t just fire you after that!”

“Well, obviously,” the songstrel shrugged. “I wonder that myself. But, Marco, sometimes we must all suffer for true art!”

“Doesn’t look like you suffered much from it,” Marco grumbled. “Look, man, I am sorry I didn’t let you know I was back. Honestly, I was too busy down in the Wash to even think about it. I am a squire now, and…”

“A squire? Really?” Ruberiot asked, surprised. “You know… my parents wanted both my sister and I to go into the knighthood business. Order of the Scale. You know? A lawstrel? Thankfully I managed to avoid that awful fate!”

Ruberiot took a look at Marco’s frown, and then began to backpedal. “I mean, I am not saying it is not a good job, for some people. It’s just, well, Marco, art is so obviously my true calling! I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else.”

“Right...” Marco agreed, with only some amount of irony in his tone. After all, he really couldn’t imagine what Ruberiot would be like as a squire, let alone a knight!

“It must still be quite the experience for you, Marco,” Ruberiot added, pensive. “To leave your world behind to become a soldier in ours, to experience such hardship and alienation. You must tell me all about it! Surely I could write a gripping song from that kind of material!”

Yeah... no. That one wasn’t happening. Marco didn’t even want to think of how Higgs and the others would react if there was suddenly some whiny emo song floating around about his experiences as a squire and him missing his home, whether or not there was any truth to it.

Still, Marco had to admit he had enjoyed hanging out with the songstrel and his motley crew back after Toffee had been defeated.

“So, um, right now I am kind of in a hurry, but well, if you want, maybe…” he was going to regret this, “... maybe we can hang out some other time?”

“I’d like that, Marco. I very much would.” Ruberiot smiled. “Of course, I am quite busy at the moment as well. I have an important performance to deliver in but a few hours! That’s why I am so glad you brought my ensemble for tonight! You are a true friend, Marco Diaz.”

“Um, it’s kind of my job…” the boy pointed out, as he handed out the hat and suit to the musician. Deep down, he was glad that there were people besides Sir Lavabo who appreciated the strict timeliness of the Order of the Wash, after all. “Also… a performance? Hopefully not another princess song?” He flinched at the idea.

“Oh, nothing like that! This will be a much more private, avant garde event. Only one audience member, really,” the songstrel clarified. “Tonight at 8, her place, I’ll show that talentless buffoon what a true artiste is all about!”

“Buffoon?” Marco asked. “You mean Foolduke?”

“Yes, indeed. We have a little wagger going on, you see, on who can best impress the other.” As he spoke, Ruberiot walked behind a tall piano, tossing his current shirt and pants out through the side of the huge instrument.

Marco was momentarily taken aback by such casual and unannounced disrobing, but it wasn’t like he could see anything untoward. Still, he averted his gaze from the performer, as he proceeded to change clothes behind the piano. Ruberiot, nonchalantly, continued their conversation.

“It should not be at all difficult to see which of the two of us is the true artist, and who is the derivative hack,” he remarked, as he draped the silk scarf around his neck and carefully adjusted the hat plume. “But I am afraid that her ability to recognize true inspiration is as non-existent as her own artistic talent. So this will, obviously, take a while… otherwise I’d ask you to hang out after the function, Marco. But, well, chances are it will be extended until late at night, if past performances are any indicator.”

“Um, wait a second…” Something didn’t add up with that story. Then it dawned on him. Marco was shocked he hadn’t realized it any earlier, actually. “Are you two dating?”

“Dating!? Me and that uncultured clown? Nonsense! We barely tolerate each other, Marco,” replied Ruberiot, visibly offended. Then, he stepped out from behind the piano, fussed with his hair under the feathered hat, and applied a dollop of some oily substance to his goatee. “Now, how do I look?” It was good that he was a musician and not an actor, because he was fooling no one.

“Um, stylish, I guess,” replied the human boy. By Mewni standards, at least, that look was quite fashion forward, the squire imagined. Ruberiot, for his part, beamed at the appraisal.

“Well, Marco, I am afraid I still should probably rehearse my song and, um, it’s really meant for a very specific audience,” Ruberiot blushed. “I mean, it’s experimental stuff, not intended for the uninitiated. Yeah, that’s what I meant! So, well, um… see you around some other time?”

Marco could take the hint. Besides, he had a ton of clothes to deliver still, and this whole conversation had really eaten into his lead time-wise.

He smiled. “Sure, Ruberiot, and, heh, good luck on your d… I mean, performance. Break a leg, man.”

The songstrel beamed. “You too, Marco. You too.”

He then nearly slammed the door on the squire’s face. Nothing malicious about it, Marco imagined, just him being nervous about tonight.

As he opened a portal back to the Wash, Marco heard the first few notes of what he was pretty certain was a serenade. ‘Experimental stuff’, right…

----

After Ruberiot, there had only been a couple more floors to go on the servants’ side of the castle. Soon, Marco was zipping through the nobles’ wing, more than making up for the previous delay in terms of his master schedule. As much as he enjoyed a good sense of completion, though, Marco found that he soon missed the servants’ quarters.

Now, of course, the rooms, and even the hallways, of the nobles’ wing were so much nicer. The problem was that the people themselves really, um, weren’t. Quite the opposite, actually.

Some of the nobles, minor ones as well as Star’s own relatives, looked at him and Artax Ed as if both of them had fleas - which, for the record, neither of them did. Lavabo was super strict in making sure Artax Ed received a proper bath before every shift. Plus, wouldn’t a dirty laundry crew contradict the whole point of the kingdom having one in the first place?

Either way, they all treated Marco like nothing more than another general-purpose servant, when they took notice of him at all. In the best case, they’d wave him in just long enough to let him put the clean laundry back into their cabriole-legged armoires, then quickly become impatient if he didn’t manage to silently extract himself of their rooms in record time.

That is, of course, unless they had some other, often inane, task that they wanted him to help them with!

The squire of the Wash found himself moving sofas, repeatedly adjusting paintings, and, in one occasion, replacing seventy eight wax candles from a hanging chandelier, twelve feet about the room’s floor.

With the servants, he'd drop their clothes off and be done with it. Many of them were already out and about, and had left a note on their door informing Marco to simply leave their clothes in front of it. It was easy and convenient.

That was never the case with the nobles however. They were all in their quarters, taking naps, or knitting, or reading. It made Marco wonder if these people even had jobs of their own. Or was being lucky enough to be related, however distantly, to the Queen mean that everything would be handed to you for life?

Ugh, Marco needed to stop this train of thought. He was starting to think like Higgs!

No one paid enough attention to the human boy to recognize him, either, despite hanging out with the princess for a whole summer, and Ruberiot’s stupid song. They were mostly just not looking at him for long enough to even make the connection.

Somehow, Marco doubted that Star, or even Queen Moon, ever acted quite so dismissive of those below their station. At least, he hoped they did not. He particularly hoped that he hadn’t done that either, back when he was regularly hanging out in Mewni with his bestie.

He could see River being pretty clueless in his interactions with others, meat blanket cape and all that, but certainly not disdainful towards anyone in particular. If there was someone in the castle that cared little for ranks and aristocracy, it was, ironically enough, the king himself. And if there was anyone who really minded that sort of stuff, it was…

‘Etheria Butterfly,’ Marco read the next name from the delivery list, and sighed, staring apprehensively at the huge ornamented double doors before him.

The panels on each side were carved to show two separate yet equally detailed scenes. The left door showed an intricate forest, full of ivy vines and flying butterflies, carefully sculpted out of mewnian high oak wood. The right one, made of darker timber, represented instead an idealized rendition of outer space: strange planets with way too many rings, multiple crescent moons, and a dazzling number of five-pointed stars. The two distinct vistas somehow joined seamlessly in the middle. The swarm of delicate fluttering lepidoptera, for example, became a stream of shooting stars as they crossed into the right door. Likewise, the vines flowed into the spiral arms of galaxies as they switched sides.

The arch around both doors was finely carved marble. Above it, hung a small curtain, tinted with what the squire of the Wash instantly recognized as an obscenely expensive dragon-blood violet dye.

It was certainly the most beautiful door he had yet ran into in his delivery errand. Despite his awe at the image, Marco really hoped the person who lived behind those doors wasn’t home.

He knocked softly. “Order of the Wash. Squire Diaz reporting with an order for…”

The doors slammed open on their own before he could finish announcing himself. Behind them, all the way back through a bedroom that was larger than Marco’s entire home, sat Star’s great-aunt.

She was a short hunched woman, more hairdo than face, sitting on a huge velvet-covered violet chair way too large for her own size. She ought to have seemed comical, but there was something about her harsh regal expression that would not allow such humor. Instead, she gave the squire the impression of a fat bloated spider, waiting placidly in the middle of her vast web.

Etheria regarded Marco with those intense, intelligent, and utterly disapproving eyes of hers. Her cheekmarks, a pair of five-pointed stars, were in the process of cooling down from their flashing luminous state into a deceivingly soft pink hue.

Marco understood, then, how the old woman had opened the door. Magic, after all, ran in the family.

“Diaz? Yes, indeed, I was expecting you… squire,” she forced a smile, one so unnatural as to make Marco actually miss her previous sneer of disapproval. At least that one had seemed honest. She glanced at the three dozen or so dresses Marco was bringing her and sighed. “Leave them on the bed, boy. I’ll have someone hang them later. Right now, we need to talk.”

“Pardon me, ma’am?” Marco asked, nervously. Figures, out of all of Star’s relatives, it would be her that recognized him.

She took a moment to reply, focused, instead, on the object in her lap: a large red yarn that she was in the process of knitting into a baby-sized pair of pants.

“That’d be ‘pardon me, your highness,’ actually,” she corrected him. She didn’t seem annoyed, which, now that he thought of it, was a first among the times he had met the woman before. “But don’t worry. I understand. You are not from around here, after all, and I am sure my niece and grandniece have allowed shocking liberties from you when it comes to protocol…”

Marco had the distinct impression that it was best not to say anything to that.

“That said. Well, you won’t hear me say this often, but, I have to admit: I misjudged you,” Etheria continued, leaving Marco ever more confused. “Back when Star brought you, of all people, to our joint family picnic - a shameful debacle all on its own - I was fearing the worst. I thought history was about to repeat itself yet again! Our family certainly cannot survive three generations of such a shameful reprobate behavior - starting with my beloved sister involving herself with that deserting chef Lazlo, and again as my niece married that lout of a-”

“Your highness,” Marco interrupted, channeling his inner-Lavabo as best he could, taking on a deferential yet firm tone. “That’s the Queen and King of Mewni you are talking about, to one of their loyal squires.”

Not to mention, their daughter’s best friend. Though it wouldn’t help Marco any to point that out.

Etheria smiled, bitterly. “Yes, yes, of course, of course. That’s the point, after all. I got to say that I appreciate that you, at least, have some notion of your own place. Ours is a generous kingdom, full of opportunities for those seeking to improve their station… in the right ways. Knighthood is certainly within the reach of an ambitious but unknown foreigner. However…”

She had kept knitting through the whole monologue. Only now did she stop, taking a single needle out of the interlaced fabric. She casually pointed the knitting needle at Marco, and only then did the squire notice just how long and how pointy the metal instrument seemed to be.

“I am sure this is an absolutely needless warning. But, still, I must make this clear, squire Diaz: stay away from my grandniece,” she commanded. “She is hard enough to manage as things stand. The Lucitor Prince would not have been my first choice of a suitor, but he comes from a long noble line, allied to our own for generations. He might yet prove a positive influence where the paternal blood has proven to be a curse. I will not stand for any interference with that particular matter. Understood?”

Ugh. So that was what all this was about? The woman had probably heard Star’s princess song, worried that the princess was - supposedly! - in love with a commoner, and decided to throw her weight behind another, more ‘proper’, alternative?

Marco actually felt more sorry for Tom than for himself in that scenario. It’s like the only thing that mattered to Etheria concerning Star’s boyfriend was his royal lineage! His actual character was only secondary, if it was relevant at all. At the very least, he wished she had had the decency to refer to Star’s boyfriend by his name!

As for her ‘warning,’ well… it’s not like there was anything going on between the Squire of the Wash and the Princess of the Butterfly Kingdom. They had always been, and always would be, just friends. Right? But, still, if there had been anything between them, then like hell it was any of her business!

While pondering all this, Marco had, somehow, stopped listening to a single word of what the older woman was saying. A forceful cough grabbed his attention back towards a pair of cold indignant eyes.

“...I said ‘you are dismissed’. I’ve said my piece, squire. Don’t you have clothes to deliver?” Etheria pointed out, bringing Marco back to the present.

“Um, yes, uh… your highness…?” Marco replied, lamely, and began making his way out of the door, followed by an oblivious Artax Ed, who pranced after him as if nothing were wrong.

“Just remember: stay away from my grandniece, and we will get along famously!” shouted Aunt Etheria through the door.

Like hell they would. Like hell he would!

Marco was now more determined than ever to find the time to hang out with Star, and he was certainly going to tell her everything about how much of a b… um, witch her grand-aunt was!

He felt like he now understood why Star had so much trouble getting along with her family members, and couldn’t blame her for having anxiety around them. He wondered what stories she had to tell, about ‘aunt Etheria’.

Marco glanced back at his list. ‘Heartrude Butterfly, Mimas Butterfly, Aurora Butterfly, Rigel Butterfly, Eclipsa Butterfly, and… yes!... Star Butterfly!’

Marco tried his best to get through the rest of the noble’s wing as fast as possible, to maximize the time he might have to hang out with Star if she was around, before he had to head out for the non-castle deliveries. Much to the boy's annoyance, every single Butterfly listed was inside their respective bedroom/mini-mansion when the boy came with their clothes. This meant he'd have to stay a few extra seconds to do some meaningless chore for them, or listen to their complaints about something that didn't involve him.

Eventually, though, there were just two more Butterflys left.

----

The squire turned left and went down the proceeding hall. He had never been through this area of the nobles wing before. In fact, it looked like hardly anyone ever had: this entire section of the castle was horribly maintained! The paint on the portraits had completely faded, and the wallpaper was peeling all the way to the dust ridden floor. It was so bad that giant tree vines from outside had invaded the interior through several cracks in the castle’s stone walls.

Marco wasn't sure why this particular set of hallways had been abandoned like that. Perhaps, the Butterfly family simply wasn't as big as it once was, or maybe something terrible had transpired here. Either way, it seemed like a waste of space.

When River had mentioned that all available rooms had been occupied by displaced townsfolk, he clearly hadn’t even thought of counting those in this part of the castle. Nor, Marco realized, had he thought of offering one of them for him to stay in.

In fact, apparently only one of the rooms in this dilapidated area was occupied at all, and even that only recently. It was the last room of the forsaken passage. The destination of the young squire and foal. Eclipsa's room.

It was strange, though. Shouldn't there be a guard or two keeping watch? If Star's great times whatever grandmother truly was such a heinous villain, then shouldn't there be more security?

As it stood, the entrance to the Queen of Darkness' chamber had a few locks on it, but the door itself seemed just as flimsy as any other in that hallway. A healthy adult would have no trouble forcing their way out of that, and even Marco himself had barged through his fair share of them, when leading ‘la resistance’ against King Ludo.

The human examined the door from a safe distance, and realized that a small flapping doorway had been installed near the bottom. It reminded him of that doggie door his father had needed to make for the Laser Puppies.

It didn't seem like the most humane way to handle this, but, well, the woman was a prisoner and suspected criminal, after all. This was probably the safest way to go about this.

Marco bent down and began sliding several folded dresses towards the door. Hopefully he could...

“Boo!”

Marco screamed, fell down to his back, and speedily created distance between himself and the door, by panickedly pawing at the stone floor and dragging his own butt through it in reverse until he hit a wall.

After a few stabilizing breaths, the boy regained his composure and hoisted himself back up. He turned his gaze back towards the door, where a truly bizarre sight greeted him.

A young woman, probably in her mid-thirties, had forced her head, and only her head, through the doggie door, and was aggressively chomping at the air in a vain attempt at seizing the now scattered dresses. Her emerald hair, which was probably beautiful in a whole lot of other situations, looked disheveled and resembled a bird's nest. Her lavender eyes had the same type of fierceness to them as a Manticore trying to catch its prey within its maw. Marco knew that one from experience.

The squire technically had no other business here. The clothes had been, arguably, delivered. Still, he couldn't just walk away from this. He had to ask.

Marco looked down at her. “Um. What are you doing?”

The seemingly feral lady stopped her grunting instantly and looked up, as if just now noticing his existence.

Eclipsa spoke softly, “Oh! You're still here. That's... quite embarrassing. Usually they're already gone by now…” She looked off into the distance.

Before Marco could question her further, Artax Ed zipped between the squire's legs and started licking the former Queen's face.

Eclipsa giggled at the kissing horse. “Pfft, hey, stop that, you adorable little thing! It tickles!”

If it tickled her so much then why didn't she just pull her head back in?

“Sorry about that, er, your highness? Artax did get his teeth brushed this morning, but I'll stop him.” Marco grabbed his equine companion and held him in his arms.

Eclipsa snorted. “Hmph, ‘highness?’ I wouldn't exactly call myself that in this predicament. And I'm not just talking about my current elevation.”

Marco couldn't help but smile at her bad joke. “But, seriously, what are you doing?”

“Well, after spending three hundred years in a magical crystal, your body is so unused to moving that it stiffens so much easier than before. So… I invented this fun little game where after I scare away the delivery boy or the chef, and they scatter my things everywhere, I try to see how much of it I can grab from down here. Really uses the neck and arms muscles.”

It was part funny and part scary how straight faced she was during that explanation. Marco didn't want to offend the woman, but man was that weird! Like, beyond even Star-levels of weirdness.

Wait! She routinely scared away people that came to deliver stuff to her? Wasn’t the whole reason Marco was doing this because the old mailmewman had had... what was it? ‘An encounter with a deranged criminal’? Well, no offense to his bestie, or her apparently positive impression of her ancestor, but ‘deranged’ sounded just about right!

Eclipsa seemed to catch on to the squire silently judging her, and continued with “And before you say anything, do consider how you would go about entertaining yourself while locked in a dingy old room all day and night. Trust me, sometimes I wish I was unconscious through it all like I was in my crystal.”

That was a fair point, actually. When Marco was imprisoned for a week, he at least had River to pass the time. Without him, he may have gone crazy from the boredom. “Um, that makes sense, I suppose. Regardless, it’d be a shame if you couldn’t actually reach your clean clothes. May I hand them to you?”

The woman seemed surprised at first, but then she gave off a thankful expression. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Marco Diaz, current and sole squire of the Order of the Wash.” He gave her a salute.

“The Wash?” Eclipsa said, as if in disbelief. “But, you’re so young and… still in one piece?”

Um, what exactly did she mean by that?

“Nevermind that. Would you like to come in for tea?” Eclipsa asked.

“I… don’t think I can fit through that door?” Marco reasoned, surprised at the invitation.

Eclipsa immediately pulled her head back into her prison. Marco half expected her to goad him into an attempt at squeezing through the doggie door, but instead, she opened the entirety of the door herself.

For the first time, Marco finally got a full look at the infamous Eclipsa, Queen of Darkness. By the standards of royalty, she was dressed quite plainly. By the standards of a convict, quite the opposite. There was something about her that made old mauve her color, be it her contrasting green hair or her matching eye color and spade-shaped cheek marks. She knew this, too, and was dressed in a single piece dress of that particular hue.

The dress itself must have been quite fashion-forward for three hundred years ago, too! Only the embroidery around the neckline, and the external belt, betrayed the piece as something older than what Marco would expect of Star herself.

Eclipsa was also wearing matching lilac silk gloves and socks. Despite the conditions of the cell room around her, and her unorthodox exercise routine, Marco had to recognize that both gloves and socks were in perfect condition. Not a single tear could be seen in the fragile material.

But, more importantly... Holy Crap! That door was never locked to begin with! Marco nearly dropped Artax as soon as he realized this. He stared at Eclipsa, mouth wide open.

“Now then, are you coming?” Eclipsa asked as she motioned him inside.

Oh God, should Marco… call someone right now? It definitely wasn’t a good thing that such an important prisoner was able to freely leave her cell. But, at the same time, would Star think poorly of him if he snitched like that? Star really seemed to get along with Eclipsa, if the contents in her letters were any indication, and she had made it clear to him that she thought her great-great-etc grandma had been imprisoned unjustly. Would Star feel betrayed if Marco didn’t trust the same woman she trusted?

At the very least, Star had said that Eclipsa was unable to perform wandless magic, and the woman herself seemed nice enough. But what if all of that was an act? An attempt to trick Marco into a false sense of security. He did read her chapter in the Book of Spells, and it took Star and Glossaryck all day to fish those evil spirits out of his body. Of course, maybe that had been Marco’s own fault for reading it? She didn’t seem all that bad. Perhaps it would be fine as long as he exercised extreme caution. After all, a great squire is an untrusting squire.

There was also the issue of how this would affect his time for the deliveries. How long should he stay for tea? Would he have enough time afterwards? Should he have one cup or two cups? Definitely not three. That much was certain. Should he ask for Earl Grey, or just be thankful for whatever she’s got? She’s a prisoner in Mewni, after all, so there probably isn’t much in terms of variety. Maybe he should just politely decline, and hope that she wouldn’t tell Star what an unfriendly squire her friend-

“Are you okay, Marco?”

Marco took a deep breath and swallowed all the anxiety that was swelling up in his brain.

“Yeah, sure. I’d love a cup.”

----

“You’re not pulling my leg, right?” Marco said, as a small rat-like creature with bug wings poured him another cup of tea. Eclipsa had apparently trained these critters into being quite the handy assistants. Still didn’t stop them from trying to eat Artax Ed though, so unfortunately the foal had to wait outside and guard the clothes cart.

“I’m being completely honest with you,” Eclipsa said, smiling at the squire’s excitement. “The Wash was once the most respected order of the Knights of Mewni. To serve the Wash was the kingdom’s highest honor.”

“There isn’t a single person in Mewni who thinks that now,” Marco said. “Like, everyone assumes it’s just mundane clothes cleaning. It’s why I’ve had so much trouble fitting in with the other squires.”

“That is bizarre,” Eclipsa said, taking a sip. “And you're telling me that it's been just you and this Lavabo fellow?”

“Only recently. Lavabo has been running the Wash by himself for decades, and I'm the first squire he's ever had.”

Eclipsa regarded the squire's words with an impressed look. “He must be a remarkable man, then. A lone soldier taking on the Wash by himself would have been unheard of three hundred years ago.”

Marco beamed. “Oh, you have no idea. He's the most badass guy I know. A little awkward, sure, but super honorable, and he taught me a lot.” He then thought about it for a second. “It's weird. Even though he's my mentor and I'm his protege, I feel like I've been helping him in a lot of ways as well. We're both kind of learning from each other, I guess.”

“Knighthood should never prevent someone from learning from the people around them,” Eclipsa said. “The bond between a knight and squire is a powerful one. Traditionally, it is seen as going only in one direction: the knight mentors, and the squire learns. Eventually, the squire becomes the knight, and nothing is lost, or gained, in the process. However, I have personally learned that many relationships that seem to be uneven at first glance, are improved when thought of as a partnership between two equals, regardless of rank or experience.”

It felt good to hear that. Marco was sometimes under the impression that Lavabo didn't really need him, like he assumed when Lavabo had first talked about cleaning the Garment Goblins’ mess by himself. The squire had to remember, though, that every man has his limits.

Lavabo may have had a will of steel when it came to the Wash, but he was still an old man. Marco knew deep down that his knight appreciated everything he contributed to the sacred order. And now that Marco knew that two men handling the Wash used to not only be unheard of, but probably suicidal, well… it felt good, that’s all.

Eclipsa gave a sigh of nostalgia. “I remember the Wash well. My mother would bring me down there to observe the twenty or so men and women, fighting off the yarn serpents and the poisonous polka dot basilisks hiding within the clothing. She respected them greatly.”

Wow, twenty people. Marco could only dream about having such manpower to work with. “Heh, must be validating to be approved of by the Queen of Mewni.”

“But of course! Even inside her will, my mother, Solaria, specified that any members of the Wash who were slain by her poltergown be buried right alongside her. It was her way of thanking them, and apologizing in advance, for their great service.”

“O-oh. That was, nice of her,” Marco said awkwardly. “Wait a second, are poltergowns the reason why the Magic High Commission-”

“My, you really are a clever boy, Marco.” Eclipsa smiled. “Yes, that is one reason why, despite being branded a traitor and an evil sorceress, the Magic High Commission would never resort to executing me. They'd rather keep me alive in crystalized stasis forever. Partly because killing isn't their style, but mostly because, if I were to kick the bucket, I'm confident the dark magic escaping from my body would put up quite the fight.”

Marco was thankful he and Lavabo wouldn't be around when the Wash would have to face a poltergown from a Butterfly Queen. Moon wasn't the type of woman to be brought down easily, at least.

The boy looked back at Eclipsa. The woman seemed so strange to him at first. She was waiting for an impending trial that would decide her fate, but she didn't seem the least bit concerned about it. She came off as a care-free hedonist, despite everything in her situation being stacked against her.

She probably didn't mind because, even if she was found guilty, no harm would come to her. She’d still be alive in the end. But was living out the rest of eternity in one of Rhombulous’ crystals really living?

“Your highne-” Marco stopped himself. “Ms. Butterfly, I want to know, when Toffee was destroyed and you escaped from your crystal, why did you come back to Mewni? You could've gone anywhere in the multiverse where no one knew who you were, and live in peace. Why be free and walk right back into captivity?”

For the first time, Eclipsa didn't smile at the squire. She had always been so quick to respond to Marco's questions with something witty or charming. But now, she really needed to think it over. As if she herself hadn't considered her own motivations in returning here.

“Because… despite everything…” Eclipsa paused. “I can't bring myself to hate Mewni. In fact, I still love it here. Even if the people are different, it's all the same, for better or worse.”

Was her reasoning really that simple? Marco had a hard time believing her.

Eclipsa picked up her tea, and started stirring it with a spoon. “You know, when I was a little girl, I always tried to envision what the future would look like. It was exciting to think about, especially when you grew up in a state of war. How great would it be if monsters and mewmans finally put their differences aside and tried working together? My mother said wishing for such a thing was childish, but I held onto that dream.”

Her tea-stirring was getting faster, more intense.

“I mean, three hundred years is such a long time. I thought things would definitely have changed for the better by then. They must have had. They had to. So I went to Mewni, and as I made my way past the Forest of Certain Death, I saw monster village after monster village. Big enough to support about a dozen families, but small enough as to not alert the Knights of Mewni of their existence. Three hundred years and it stayed the same. The only difference now I suppose is that there isn’t as much fighting between the two sides anymore, but only because the monsters have now given up. Three hundred years...”

Eclipsa then stopped with the stirring. It seemed she had just unloaded a lot of stress that had been building up on that single cup of tea. Even so, not a single drop of it had escaped onto her clothes or the table. All the tea remained in the cup.

“I’m sorry, Marco. I… must have said some things that you aren’t used to hearing,” Eclipsa said, looking apologetic for losing her cool. To him though, the former queen didn’t say anything she should feel ashamed of.

“No, I get it,” Marco said. “The way mewmans have treated monsters has always been unfair. The Butterfly family has inherited all sorts of harmful prejudices. But... I think Star has been able to look past a lot of those recently. She made friends with one monster, at least, and even sort of has a fan club made up of them.”

Eclipsa smiled. “You’re right. And she’s precisely the reason why I’m seeing this trial through.”

“Oh!” Marco exclaimed. “Really? Her?”

“Yes. She believes that I’m innocent, as do I, obviously. I have the utmost faith that she’ll bring to the light the corruption this kingdom has been plagued by for centuries. I will not attempt to escape just so I can validate their opinions of me. My name will be cleared, and when that’s done, I can finally begin changing Mewni.”

Marco wasn't sure what to say to her. Would nodding in agreement be considered treasonous? Either way, her resolve to stay here at least made the squire feel better about keeping her door unlocked. She wouldn't leave after saying all that to him.

“I should probably get going,” Marco said, excusing himself. “I have more deliveries to make.”

“Yes, I probably did take a good chunk of your time. My apologies.”

The squire walked up to the door. ”That's alright. It was… cool knowing how the Wash was once regarded. Maybe one day it can be brought back to its former glory.”

Eclipsa got up as well. She picked up the plates and cups. “Hmm, well, don't worry too much about that. I'm sure their are already plenty of people that care deeply for you. Like… my granddaughter, for example.”

Marco turned around. “Wait, how did you-”

Before Marco could get another word in, one of those flying rats slammed the door on his face. The only thing he could hear after that was snickering from someone on the other side.

How did she know about his ties to Star? Did he say anything about that without noticing?

Now that he thought about it, Marco did mention Star making friends with Buff Frog and the other monsters. No ordinary squire would know that information, so perhaps Eclipsa simply put two and two together.

It still felt like Eclipsa knew more than she let on, but the squire didn't have time to worry about that.

He quickly woke Artax Ed from his nap and the two ran back through the abandoned nobles hall together. After all, there was only one name left inside the castle in his list. As interesting as chatting with Eclipsa had been, Marco couldn’t wait to surprise Star with a visit. Specially one that was well justified by his job, this time around… rather than just him sneaking through her window.

----

The thing about being a magical princess from another dimension, was that you could decide on a whim where your bedroom was going to be, and change its location anytime just as easily. Marco could visualize an angered Moon telling her daughter to go to her room, and Star, in response, simply poofing the entire thing right in front of them, before storming inside.

Marco had reasonably (albeit mistakenly) assumed her room would be in the same place as last time, but no. He checked the hallway it had been in, back when he arrived to Mewni. It was the same place he had also found it at the day after, before he moved in with Lavabo. This evening he found a solid wall instead. Star had once again moved her room, and trying to find the damn thing was wasting too much time!

After searching several more hallways within the top floors, Marco realized that the fastest way to find it was to portal several miles away from the castle, far enough to see the entire structure, and discern the room’s location from the Southern Cornfields.

It took a while, due to the sheer size and complexity of Butterfly Castle, but he eventually found that the building's extension representing Star's room was attached to the top of the highest tower. It was the same floor where Moon and River's room was located.

Marco smiled, recognizing what that meant. Star was comfortable enough around her mother that she had placed their rooms right next to each other! Their relationship certainly seemed much better these days than it had been even a few months back, after fighting Toffee together. That happy thought made Marco instantly forgive how difficult his search had been.

Grinning, he portaled himself, Artax Ed, and the clothes cart to the tower, right outside Star's door.

Marco knocked on the colorful door, with a hell of a lot more confidence than he had on his second day at the Wash. With all those letter exchanges between them, he felt the initial drama and guilt surrounding his intrusion on Star's life had basically dissipated. After so many hardships, Marco felt he had finally earned the right to see his best friend again!

The door opened slowly, and out came… Tom?

“Marco? What are you doing here?” The demon prince asked. He didn’t sound annoyed or bothered, just surprised.

Marco, too, was taken off guard. He, of course, remembered that Star and Tom were a thing (how couldn't he, after talking to Etheria!), but he assumed Star herself would answer a knock on her own door. Which meant…

“I guess Star isn't here?” Marco confirmed, not really hiding his disappointment, all while also ignoring Tom's original question.

Tom scratched the back of his head. “Yeeeaaahh, um, we were hanging out in her room, and well, something came up. I didn't pay much attention to the details, but Star and her mom were needed in town... or something.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Marco looked down. He probably should have expected something like this happening, honestly, considering his luck. He could wait for her to come back, but he had already wasted enough time on Eclipsa.

“It's probably more serious than Star made it sound,” Tom added. “She said she'd be back in a half-hour, and that was… four hours ago…”

Holy crap! He had been waiting for her that long? Tom wasn't perfect, by any means, but even Marco had to give him props for being so patient with whatever business his girlfriend had to take care of.

Marco then noticed something in Tom's hand. It looked like one of those goofy stress relief toys you'd see in an office cubicle. Or, in this case, what was left of one. The item in his hands now resembled a piece of burnt tire. It was more ash than toy at this point.

Was he… trying to control his anger?

Tom noticed the squire's gaze and immediately hid the scorched thing in his pocket. “Um, so, I know you came here for Star, but if you want, we could-”

“Ah, sorry, Tom, I am actually only here on official business. I came to drop off Star's clothing.” Marco felt bad leaving his friend like this, when he would have definitely made the time if Star were here, but he was behind enough as it was. “Do you mind taking them off my hands?”

“What?” Tom regarded the human with a confused expression.

Marco went back to his clothes cart and grabbed the last pile that was left on the miniature wagon. The pile contained a lot of Star's casual dresses, her blue PJs, some stockings, and her, er, underwear. All was freshly cleaned and neatly stacked together.

Marco held out the pile for Tom to grab, but his friend only looked at it apprehensively.

“You, uh, want me to grab those?” Tom asked

“It's just clothing. It won't bite,” Marco pointed out.

“Yeah, okay…” Tom made an uneasy face and grabbed a handkerchief from somewhere behind him and then used that as a barrier to grab Star’s clothes. Then, he hurried back into her room and tossed it all on her bed like it was leaking acid or something.

“Phew, that was tense,” exclaimed Tom relieved, after discarding the handkerchief into a nearby waste basket.

“Um, dude, I folded those myself and you just haphazardly spread them all over the bed.” Marco had to admit that, despite his annoyance, there was something surprisingly wholesome about a demon who acted squeamish around his girlfriend's clothes. Never judge a book by its cover, and all that.

“Wait a second, you folded those, Marco?” Tom asked, his three eyes widening. Marco even imagined a hint of a red glimmer to that surprised look.

“Um, yeah? I'm a squire of the Wash. I fold all the clothes that I'm responsible for cleaning.” That seemed like basic common sense. Maybe in the Underworld it was more customary to spit on the clothes or something equally devious. “Did Star not tell you?”

Tom took in a deep breath and clasped his hands together, before addressing the squire. “Marco, you're my bro and everything, but, you can understand why I'd be concerned with another guy handling my girlfriend's clothes, right?”

“Um, excuse me?” Marco said. He felt like he was talking to Janna all over again. “I’ll have you know I take my job at the Wash very seriously. I would never do anything creepy to Star’s clothes. I washed, dried, and delivered them, the exact same as any other clothes in Mewni.”

The demon put his hands up, realizing that he had gone too far in his insinuation. “Warm out, man. I'm just saying, can't you get one of the girls at the Wash to handle, well, all the girly stuff? I don't think I'm asking for too much here.”

Little did he know, he actually was. “There are no girls in the Wash, Tom. The entire place is run by two guys. So, who would you rather handle Star's clothes, me or an old man?”

Tom made a face that said he'd pick Lavabo over him. Ugh!

“I don't believe this! How can we be friends if you don't trust me enough to be professional at my own job!?” Marco yelled.

“I-it's nothing personal,” Tom said defensively. “I just, um… how do I word this...”

“Honestly, Tom, if I were Star, I'd be more worried about you. I mean, come on, you waited here for four hours and didn't even think about snooping around her room a little? A golden opportunity like that wasted? Pfft, unlikely.”

“Hey! Watch your tongue, squire!” Tom's eyes flared up briefly, turning into three solid blood-red ovals just for a second. “I would never do anything like that! To even suggest that is the-”

Marco stopped him, calmly putting a hand over the demon’s shoulder. “Yeah, dude, I know. Feels shitty to be accused of something you wouldn't do, though. Right?” Marco gave the prince a wink.

In that instant, Tom deflated. He began to chuckle, embarrassed, and a moment later the two teenagers were both sharing a good laugh at their own expense. It wasn’t anything new for them, either. Marco and Tom would often get into, ahem, heated arguments that seemed tense at first, usually over something ridiculous. Then, once they finally got over themselves, they’d both end up laughing at the pure stupidity of it all.

Honestly, if Star had been here, she'd definitely slap the both of them like there was no tomorrow just for having this conversation. Never mind having a fight about it!

Tom smiled. “I missed you, man. It's been so long since we hung out.”

“Yeah, still trying to get used to the whole squireing thing,” Marco said. “I’ll try to make time for you, but, well, I really don't have much free time to begin with.”

“I know what you mean. Star and I had this whole day planned out for a week, and this is the third time in a row she had to ditch it to deal with some princess stuff.” Tom looked over by the window, dejected.

“You're not... mad at her, are you?” Marco asked, remembering the stress toy.

His friend sighed. “I'm really trying not to be, man. I'm trying so hard not to be that clingy boyfriend that makes everything about him and his problems. I know Star's dealing with a lot, but seeing her so quick to leave me behind to help some peasants she's never met, well…” Tom struggled to continue, as if speaking his mind further wouldn't be so different from admitting he was a bad person.

“Well, if not being able to spend time with Star is the issue, you could instead try helping her with whatever princess stuff that comes up,” Marco suggested.

Tom crossed his arms, contemplating the idea. “I don’t know. What if it’s, like, boring? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of us hanging out in the first place?”

Marco sighed. He couldn’t believe he of all people was about to hand out relationship advice, but Tom seemed even more clueless than he was last summer with Jackie.

“Not everything you do with Star is gonna be sunshine and rainbows, Tom.” And this was in regards to a girl who could literally make those things with magic, ironically enough. “You have to stick with her through the boring and difficult stuff, too. That’s what relationships are. You know, ‘through thick and thin’ and such. You gotta show her that you’re willing to do that for her.”

“I guess you're right,” Tom agreed. “Lately, Star has been helping me deal with my anger issues, and I know those moments aren’t very fun for her, but I’m grateful for what she goes through for my sake. Do you think she would be happy if I helped her with princess stuff?”

“Of course!” Marco said confidently, leaving little room for doubt in his answer. “She would totally appreciate the help.”

Tom’s eyes filled with fiery determination. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As he said that, the demon prince turned towards the window. He opened it dramatically with both hands, took a deep bracing breath, and proceeded to put one leg over the edge. In the last moment, he whipped his head back around to face Marco, and...

“I don’t actually know where she is,” Tom said, deadpan.

Marco laughed. “Just do it next time, dude.”

The demon groaned. “Ugh, I hyped myself up for nothing!”

Marco chuckled again. Then the cold breeze hit him. He looked out of the window, at the low hanging sun in the horizon. It was getting late, and there were still the deliveries outside the castle to consider. “Heh, alright, this was fun, but I really need to get back to work. Catch you later, Tom.”

The squire took out his dimensional scissors, and opened a portal back to the Wash. Artax Ed quickly followed in tow. He had barely above one hour left for the more remote deliveries, rather than the two he had budgeted for, so he’d better hurry up.

----

Tom stared at the swirling portal for a long, silent moment. Marco hadn’t given him enough time to say bye back, and it felt awkward to go after him only to say goodbye. He kept staring at the vortex until, eventually, it zipped itself up, closed from the other side.

Well, no use fretting about that now, then! He had a girlfriend to track down and help!

Tom pulled out his compact mirror and pulled up Star’s number. Hopefully if he called, she’d tell him where she was at least.

Right before he hit the dial button, he stopped himself.

He’d almost forgot! Tom closed the mirror and ran over to Star’s desk, where her letters from Marco were haphazardly scattered about. Tom started putting them in a pile again, in order from newest to oldest- the way Star had left them- and tapped the bunch of them against the desk to straighten out the pile.

He put them back inside their drawer and had a pang of guilt hit him as he closed it one last time. Marco had only been joking at the idea of him snooping, and that’s exactly what Tom felt like right now. A joke.

The demon mentally vowed to never do something like this again, and left his girlfriend’s bedroom to actually be helpful for once.

As he speed-walked down the castle’s highest tower, Tom kept thinking back to Marco’s letters. Without even being there in person, he was able to cheer Star up when she had a rough day, and comfort her when she was sad. He didn’t even need to see Star’s responses to know that she looked forward to his daily letters. His stupidly long and wordy letters.

Tom flipped open his compact mirror once again, and went to the last text conversation he had with Star last night.

“Hey Starship, cant wait to see ya tommroow!”

“Totes, Boo!”

…

The Lucitor prince wondered to himself. Was that really the best he could do?