The final week before I’ll have to Princess is hell.

I avoid Scar, lying about being alright in the private messages I leave for him. I don’t sleep at all, my appetite disappears completely. Every single hermit is excited for the party, every conversation turns to Princessing. But whenever it’s mentioned, I’m left with a sinking pit of terror. Every day closer is even worse, I start trying to avoid the other hermits as much as I can, unable to bear their excitement. Until, on the night before the party, I decide to leave Hermitcraft entirely to unwind at The Summoner.

The Vexling-only bar is full of life as I faze through the entrance, past the evoker bouncer. There are players everywhere - sat at tables, leaning over the balcony, laughing and enjoying the freedom to show their vexiness. Allays serve refills and bring empty plates and bottles back to the main bar in the centre. Someone’s stood on the stage at the back, explaining their latest trap idea to an excited crowd.

‘Just so you know, all drinks and food contains vex magic,’ the bartender explains as I grab a couple bottles of Flaming Jack from their barrel, and a cake from the counter.

‘Yep, thanks.’ I manage a smile, giving a couple diamonds payment before finding a table in the corner, near the doors to the vex-shrine in the back.

I sit, taking a long draught of the bright red drink I ordered, named after my own parrot Captain Jack. It burns in my throat, the flare of magic welcome after the tiredness I’ve felt for a while. The fears of the party – the makeup, the dress, being stared at, pleasing Scar – start to fade. I down the rest of drink, calling an allay for refills as I start on the cake. The sweet vex magic sponge goes down easier than anything else I’ve had for weeks; that too disappears effortlessly.

As the evening continues on, my only real sign of time passing is the changing performers, some performing music or comedy, others explaining traps and pranks. I barely pay attention to them, nor the number of refills I get. In the haze of magic, my worries of the party are completely gone. Who cares if I miss it? I can just prank the hermits by not showing up. Or getting possessed at the party. I could burn the entire place to the ground in the name of the vex.

I can easily imagine me and Scar, wreaking havoc, destroying Jevin’s forest. Deserved, clearly deserved, for turning against the Permit Office. Vex dart in the treetops, laughing and chasing anyone who dares laugh at my dress, or tell me I'm going to look stupid. The black robes, edged in gold, the mask hugging close to my face, are perfect. Me and Scar look perfect in them. It’s the other hermits who look stupid, and are going to pay for what they did. They’ve got to pay. If they ruin the runup to the party, then I ruin the party itself. How dare they oppose me. Oppose the Vex. Oppose…

My communicator buzzes.

I blink. The room around me’s changed, the people gone leaving only a sleepy morning crowd. The performances have stopped, the only noise being the muffled screams of whatever’s going on in the backroom (possessed and murderous Vexlings only). Other Vexlings sit, staring at the ceiling, lost in the power of the vex magic. A few chat. I don’t want to move, head aching, exhaustion sinking in as the magic wears off. I just check my communicator. It’s Scar.

Cub, you ok? Feeling a lot of unexpected vexiness

You drinking? At the summoner?

You'll be at mine for 12pm, right?

Cub?

Cub?

Are you coming?

Cub, are you ok? Where are you?

I check the time.

It’s 2pm.

‘Shit- shit shit shit…’ I repeat, stumbling from the table, out the door, summoning a portal back to Hermitcrft and through.

Immediately, I collapse, exhausted, on the floor of my base. My head pounds, I feel sick from all the cake I must’ve eaten. My head hurts. I don’t want to move. But I have to. If I don’t actually show up to Princessing after all of this, I’m letting the entire server, Scar, and most importantly let myself down. Everyone will think I gave up on what no one else has this much trouble with. All my worry this past month will be for nothing, all of Scar’s work, effort, his enthusiasm, will be wasted.

My vision blacks as I try to stand and I’m left clinging to the wall. I feel my heartbeat rushing in my ears, muffling any other sound. I’m too hot and too cold at once, both shivering and sweltering. Every step is too much effort as I stagger towards the balcony. It’s too bright outside, the sun searing through my squinted eyelids. The room around me spins, I’m lightheaded and yet pummeled with a splintering headache that makes my head feel too heavy to lift. I hug my stomach tight as it twists with sickness.

My legs give way.

And the world goes dark.

‘...ub? Shit, Cub?’

My eyes don’t want to open. I hear Scar’s voice, I feel his hand holding mine. He’s crouched next to me. I’m on the ground.

‘What the… what’s going…?’ the words come out as a croak through my parched, sore throat. ‘Scar?’ I don’t want to move, everything aches. Even shifting my head to look at Scar is too much.

‘What’s going on with you, Cub? What happened? You’re all hungover and unwell…  how many drinks did you even have?’

‘I…’

Nothing else comes out before I vomit. And again. And again. Scar swears, falling next to me, as I involuntarily purge everything ate last night. I try to stop it, breaths somewhere between a shudder and a retch. My stomach only hurts more.

‘Ok, ok… oh shoot, you’ve burning up.’ Scar rests his hand against my forehead. ‘You’ve got a fever, Cub, you need to get to bed, get some rest. And I invoke the declaration of dependence so you have to, ok?’

‘I’m sorry.’ I mutter back. ‘I’m sorry I ruined my chance at Princessing…’

‘Shh, shh, it’s ok. It’s all ok… I’ll clean up this mess here, get you something to eat and drink. Come on, I’ll help you over.’ Scar pulls me to my feet and I’m leaning on him as we stagger the few steps towards my bed. The moment we’re close enough I try to climb in, but collapsing onto it. I curl up, pulling the blankets close, and close my eyes.

In minutes, I’m asleep.