Work on the new castle had progressed far enough that the Bog King finally had a bedroom again. With a bed. And a door. Which could be closed.
It was wonderful.
Even better, when he showed Marianne around the whole building, she suggested testing how the bed fit two people, so they closed the door and curled to snuggle.
Marianne’s ear twitched, and sh looked at the door, then at Bog. He slowly, quietly got up and snuck to the door, only to throw it wide suddenly.
Marianne recognised the voice just from the yelled “Augh!”
“Mother! Why are you listening at my door?!” Bog sounded indignant, but helped her up, anyway. Marianne joined them, leaning in the door frame.
“Well, I gotta know how much prodding you two still need to get to work on my grandkids.”
“No. No! You absolutely will not—”
Marianne, face red with embarrassment and supressed laughter, interrupted him. “Griselda, this is… counter-productive. See, when we are nervous—”
“You’re both still virgins. I was afraid of that.”
Marianne closed her eyes, raised a finger, and ignored Bog’s teeth gnashing. “When we are nervous, it’s less likely that we get intimate. And the thought of someone listening at our door makes us nervous. Right, Bog?”
“Oh, all right. I’ll leave you to whatever.” Griselda took Marianne’s hand and patted it. “But if you ever want any advice, you can ask me.” As she waddled off, she called over her shoulder, “That goes for both of you!”
Bog groaned and leaned his forehead against the door frame. Marianne patted his arm. "We can't kill her, so we'll have to live with stuff like that for a while yet."