Work Text:
The Clumsy Servant
There was once a Prince who always laughed. He was charming, handsome and commandeered the attention of every room he walked into.
Many suitors battled for his hand; beautiful Princesses and gorgeous Princes. But he refused them all, despite his mother’s protests. So said he:
“Mother, I do not need to wed. ’Tis a large world and I am still young, I have so much left to explore.”
But his mother didn’t understand his plight, and so, to give them both space, the young prince boarded a ship, disguised as a commoner, to seek adventure and freedom.
It took him three months to return home and he was never the same again.
No one knew what had happened, but as it is tradition with such things, the rumours spread faster than a house on fire. The once genial Prince had returned a shell of his former self, melancholy and reserved.
After his return he never smiled, nor did he laugh.
His mother couldn’t stand to see her child like so because it pained her. So she decreed that the first person to make her son laugh will wed him.
It worried her all the more when her son didn’t put up a protest.
Many citizens of her kingdom answered the challenge; clowns, jugglers, comedians – but it was all in vein. The Prince stayed reticent and quiet and he still never smiled.
Royal drama notwithstanding, near the castle lived a good man, free from vanity, but clumsy. He was called Steve. He lived with his mother in a humble wooden abode. One day, after his mother had come back and they were sitting on the table eating a simple meal of bread and cheese, his mother said.
“You’ll never guess what I heard today!”
“Besides crying babies?” Steve joked, as his mother was a midwife.
“No, you sassy boy,” his mother said affectionately, “I heard the Queen is offering the Prince’s hand in marriage to anyone who is able to make him laugh. You’re good of humour, son, perhaps you should try your luck?”
Steve wasn’t really sure. He was traditional and romantic and he truly believed in love, but he also knew his mother worried and only wanted what she believed to be best for him. So in the end, he agreed to try.
The morning after he made his way to the castle. Unlike past prospects, he didn’t immediately go to the palace as a candidate, instead, he looked around and did some spying, to see if maybe he could find out what others have tried and what hasn’t worked.
He walked in on a blond man with a squeaky voice imitating animals, although to Steve’s hearing, what the man claimed was a goat must have been a cat with an identity crisis.
Averting his eyes from the man making a fool of himself, Steve looked upon the Prince. Few other than those who have tried their luck had seen the Prince since his return. Though still extremely handsome, Steve saw something else as he stood there, focused on the Prince. Deep sorrow marred the once cheerful face, made more sullen by the dark circles beneath his eyes.
Steve wondered what could happen to someone to change them so, and in such a short period of time, too.
Thereupon Steve vowed to make the Prince laugh again. Not to wed him, but to help ease his sorrow.
In the next few days, Steve came back to the palace, looking on on the different attempts made by Princess and Princesses, in hopes of gleaning some sort of insight on the Prince. Each day he also saw the Queen’s desperation grow to match the Prince’s deepening depression.
Now, Steve wasn’t the smartest kid in the kingdom – in fact, he was often bullied by other kids, both for his smaller size and for his unusually feisty personality. He’d gotten into more fights then he probably should have and scared his mother more times then he wanted. But Steve was clever. Even after he’d decided he would make the Prince laugh, Steve didn’t attempt to present himself as a suitor.
Instead, he went to the palace kitchens and asked a kindly man named Jarvis if there was a job for him. At first, Jarvis said that there weren’t any jobs, but then Steve mentioned that they might need someone to deliver food, water and firewood. Jarvis looked at him a little too long, causing Steve to fear that his motivations were transparent. In the end, Steve was given the job.
And so Steve worked at the palace, fetching water for the cook, firewood for the blacksmith and food for the stables. On the first day Steve noticed how his path form the kitchens to the stables took him through the central courtyard of the palace. Everyday, he’d see the Prince’s terrace, but the Prince was never there. In fact, after a month of being in the castle, Steve had seen the Prince a total of four times, all of them when people failed to make him laugh.
The Prince looked more fatigued and melancholy with each time.
Even the queen had started to look like she was ready to either give up or choke her son until he laughed.
Steve found that counter productive, but he understood her frustration. However, the idea of choking the competitors was rather appealing. Steve physically choked at the callous thought, dismayed by his own suggestion. He shook away the discomfort like he would shed skin, unwilling to let it linger for fear of its meaning.
As he began to make friends around the palace, Steve inquired, little by little, about the Prince’s whereabouts when he wasn’t being “entertained”.
The mystery of the Prince’s time abroad was put in the shade of the puzzle that was his spare time. All that the servants knew was that he locked himself up in the library for days at a time, and that food was brought to the library door but was often carried back untouched.
Steve continued to adjust to life at the castle until finally one day he was tasked with bringing the Prince’s lunch to the library.
Heavy wooden double doors stood at the entrance to the library; for a moment Steve paused to imagine how huge this library would be and how amazing it was to have access to all of those books.
He knocked on the door and patiently waited for the response he knew wouldn’t come. Instead of leaving the tray as he was instructed, however, Steve leaned on one of the doors, opened it and walked right through.
It was bigger than Steve imagined. Shelves upon shelves held what must have been thousands of books. Wood and steel combined perfectly with the musty smell of books and leather. Steve walked to a small wooden table on the side by the door and left the tray there. Momentarily distracted, he took his time admiring the grandiose room. He knew he’d never be able to afford something this luxurious but just being here was enough. He wondered if he couldn’t take one book, though, just to read it. He’d bring it right back after.
He stepped up to the first bookcase, right next to the table that held the tray and reached for a book bound in what looked like green leather. Before he could do more then brush his fingers against the spine, a voice startled him.
“Well, aren’t you a bold one. I thought the instructions said to leave the food outside? So what do you think you’re doing in here?”
Steve’s breath left his lungs like someone had punched it out of him. He turned slowly, hand still extended outward.
Not three feet behind him stood the Prince, dress over the odds. Every piece of his clothing, from the soft looking white shirt (Steve was sure it was silk), through the dark brown bitches that covered his legs, down to the most supple leather of his boots.
Up close, Steve noticed that the Prince wasn’t much taller than himself Being on equal ground, at the same eye level as the Prince settled Steve a little. It didn’t eliminate the distance of their social standings, though. So Steve hurriedly bowed, head bent and neck exposed.
“Your highness,” Steve said respectfully, avoiding answering the Prince’s earlier question. After all, ‘Oh, you know, I’m here to make you laugh because you look so sad, and I had this plan but now you’re here I’m suddenly feeling like I swallowed my tongue’ just didn’t seem like an answer worth giving. Or like one that wouldn’t mean a jail sentence.
“Stop playing, boy, and tell me why you disregarded a direct order from your Prince?”
His voice was sharp and deep, and it washed over Steve like warm milk, stopping comfortably in his belly, despite the angry tone.
All right, so he might have developed a small crush on the Prince while watching him. Steve didn’t expect that to be a problem, though.
“I- I just-” he stuttered. (And why was he stuttering? Steve had never been frightened by authority before.)
Deep breath, Steve, you’ve got this. You’ve so got this…
“You what? Were itching for some time in the stocks? Or is this another attempt to get me to laugh just so you can get your hands on the kingdom?”
Something must have flickered across Steve’s face because the Prince’s body tensed and his eyes narrowed, like he was seeing Steve in a new light. Desperate to fix this awkwardness, Steve plowed through the his discomfort.
“I just wanted to see the books,” he said genuinely, keeping as close to the truth as he could. It wasn’t the only reason he was here, but as he’d walked in the room, he knew he would want to come here again.
That stopped the Prince short. He looked at Steve for a long minute, clearly to ascertain if he could trust him or not. Finally, his face cleared, still indifferent, but a little less tight.
“Next time, knock. You’re supposed to follow orders,” The Prince said but his tone had lost its bite and Steve got the impression the Prince wasn’t a big rule follower himself.
“I did knock, no one answered,” Steve said and once again saw that calculating look on the Prince’s face.
“Take whatever you need and go.” The Prince said suddenly, arms uncrossing. “And take the tray with you on your way out.”
Steve looked for a minute, before turning back to the leather bound book and taking it. He held it close to his chest and made his way to the door without looking at the Prince.
“The tray?” He heard the question behind him.
“Even if you’re not hungry now, you might be in some time, Sire. I would not want to be the one to starve the Prince.”
Only silence followed him out. But still, Steve had a sense of triumph about him: phase one of meeting the Prince was done!
Over the next few months, Steve continued to bring lunch up to the library. The Prince had specifically requested that this task be relegated to Steve, which made the rest of the servants looked at him differently, at least for the first week after the announcement. But he guessed the novelty wore off quickly as they were soon back to treating him same as before.
In those months, he’d met and talked to the Prince a few more times but never any longer or more personal than that first meeting. Usually Steve asked about a book, the Prince replied tersely then prompted Steve to take the tray, which Steve never did. He also noticed that as time passed, the trays returned with slightly less on them than when they arrived in the library. He counted that as a victory. Although at this point, he would count anything as a victory.
Suitors still came and went. The Prince still didn’t smile or laugh – but Steve was beginning to see there was more to the Prince then just melancholy or sadness.
Now that he had access to the Prince, Steve figured it would be easier to find a way to make him laugh. But all of his ideas seemed foolish and ridiculous. Tripping and dropping the tray or going to the library wearing armour and a shield were too slapstick for the Prince’s dark moods; Laughing at jokes was fine but laughing for real was everything.
And Steve wanted to make the Prince laugh for real.
One afternoon, some three months after he’d started regularly feeding the Prince, Steve walked inside the library without knocking and stopped short.
There was a woman inside, sitting across the Prince’s lap. She was obviously a Lady, her dress made of the finest of silks, her complexion fair and her hair a fiery red. She had a pretty heart shaped mouth and her green dress complemented her pale skin perfectly.
Steve felt irritation shoot through him like lightning. They’d stopped talking when he’d opened the door and the three of them stared at each other in silence for a second.
Then, the lady got up, smoothed imaginary wrinkles on her dress, and bade the Prince goodbye with a smile. As she walked past him, Steve lowered his head but could feel the burn of her green eyes all the way out of the door.
When the Prince didn’t give any commands or in fact, say anything, Steve headed for the table and placed the tray in front of the Prince.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said, because he knew he should apologise.
“No, you’re not.” The Prince answered. Steve’s head shot up and he locked eyes with the Prince. His eyes were like the sea after a storm, and Steve loved the sea.
“I am, I did not mean to make the lady leave.” He said sincerely.
Something changed in the Prince’s demeanour then and he stood up abruptly, the chair’s legs scraping against the stone floor. He reached for the tray, before leaning forward, way into Steve’s personal space.
“You will not speak to anyone of what you saw today, am I clear?”
Steve focused on the Prince’s eyes for a moment before he finally nodded. Then, because he was a little shit and couldn’t help himself, he looked at the object the Prince was waving in front of his face and asked. “Are you threatening me with a spoon?”
The Prince’s eyes flickered to the spoon he was holding in his hand. His face did this odd expression – for a second Steve thought it might have been a smile, but it was gone too fast. The Prince pointed the spoon at the door and said lightly. “Leave.”
Steve hurried out.
A week later, Steve was making his way down the familiar stone corridor to the library when he heard a commotion inside. When he heard a shout, Steve forgot all his manners. He ran to the door and slammed into it so it swung open fully.
He took the knife from the tray and let it fall to the floor before charging inside the room. He wasn’t much of a fighter, didn’t really have the physique for it, but Bucky, one of the blacksmith’s sons he’d befriended had shown him a few moves. They might have been with wooden swords, not butter knives, but Steve was determined not to let that stop him.
He quickly noticed one thing as he rushed inside the room – there were no attacking forces or soldiers trying to kidnap the Prince as Steve had been imagining, Just a lot of scrambled parts on the floor and the Prince, gracelessly hopping up and down and cursing up a storm.
What Steve failed to notice was the stray metal helmet on the floor, all round and perfectly positioned to trip him (he would later blame his ungainly manner on the blacksmith’s affinity for making those helmets so darn spherical). As he flailed and fell to the ground, his head banging against the stone, Steve thought about his earlier plans to make the Prince laugh and how he’d dismissed them as foolish and absurd.
As he blacked out, he wondered if he’d imagined the quiet chuckle.
He hadn’t imagined it. The Prince had laughed out loud at Steve’s (clumsy) rescue attempt. Steve wasn’t bitter, though, especially after he’d woken up with the Prince crouching by his side, telling him he was expecting more class from his future husband.
Steve found that to be worth all the bruises and concussions in the world.