Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Being the prince of a small kingdom might seem like a grandiose affair, but Ivan had never really felt that much different from anyone else. Unlike their neighboring kingdoms, theirs’ was humble and close-knit, the royalty working to earn their keep just as much as the farmers. Ivan had learned from a young age how to cook his own meals and launder his own clothing. His parents taught him the importance of working and serving others, and as such, he never quite understood why so many other royals felt that they were above everyone else for he’d never once seen himself as superior to any of his subjects. Important decisions were often made through councils and public vote rather than by executive order of the king, and so despite their kingdom’s small size, the citizens were all relatively happy with their lives.
That wasn’t to say that Ivan’s father never made firm decisions when the time called for it, but he chose to hear the voice of his people for the smaller things. Everything Ivan had ever learned about being a leader, he learned from his father who he looked up to with great pride. He only wished to be half the king his father was some day.
“Good morning, Prince Ivan,” A shopkeeper greeted as he strolled through the streets of the city.
“Good morning.” He nodded with a polite smile.
The village people were all so kind, and he liked being able to walk through the streets on his own without any need for ceremony or formality. He was free to be about his own business just like anyone else. It was nice to not have to put up with people bowing at his feet all the time like some royals in other kingdoms insisted. He hated attending their balls because everything was so uptight. The people here were his friends, and as such, he felt comfortable around them and they with him.
“You’re right on time, as always, Ivan,” Tom, the baker, said with a grin when he entered the shop.
“A prince always keeps his commitments, Mr. Dupain,” Ivan replied, retrieving an apron from the hook. “What have you got for me today?”
“We’ve got a cake order for Mrs. Chamack’s birthday tomorrow,” Tom explained, grabbing down a bowl.
“Sounds good.” He nodded, turning his attention to Mrs. Cheng as she cashed out another customer. “How is Marinette doing?”
“In her last letter she says that she’s adjusted well to life in the other kingdom. Her house is close to the beach just like she wanted, and she takes walks along the shore every night,” Mrs. Cheng said with a smile. “You’ll have to come over for dinner next time she comes to visit.”
“I look forward to it! It’s hard to believe that she’s been gone for a year now. I remember when we used to play pretend and steal cookies when we thought you two weren’t looking,” He chuckled. “Tell her I said hello.”
“I will! I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear it.”
Such was life in their small village, and Ivan enjoyed every minute of it. People came and went, seeking opportunities in the big city while others sought refuge from the hustle and bustle. Many of Ivan’s other friends stuck around to take over their parent’s businesses, but Marinette never really showed interest in baking. Her talents were better suited in clothes making, and Ivan supported her pursuit of proper training outside the kingdom even if he did miss her. Perhaps he would write to her himself soon.
Ivan’s father had always insisted that he learn many different crafts in order to make himself more rounded as a prince, and baking had always been one of his favorites, mostly because he also got to eat most of his creations. Cake decorating took care and a delicate touch that he otherwise didn’t get to employ during his other manual labor jobs. Sword fighting, wood cutting, farming, construction, such things took strength and power, but to craft a perfect rose out of frosting took patience and gentleness both of which were important for a good king. It was nice to create something beautiful for a change.
“You’re getting very good at those,” Mrs. Cheng complimented over his shoulder.
“I’m still nowhere near as good at it as Mr. Dupain,” He said humbly, cheeks flushing a little.
“Oh, I’m sure Mrs. Chamack will be thrilled to hear that her cake was decorated by the prince.” Tom patted his shoulder. “I’ll finish up the lettering. I don’t want you to be late for your next appointment.”
“Thank you as always, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.” He bowed politely before removing his apron. “And keep me posted on Marinette!”
“Will do.” They called after him as he made his way back up the hill to the palace.
As was customary, he greeted the family dog, Jean, on his way to the garden which he often cut through on his way to the horse stables. He loved smelling all of the freshly bloomed flowers and seeing the tender care of the gardeners on display. Gardening was another craft that he’d always loved, but as it turned out, he wasn’t any good at it, so he’d been banished from “helping” in the gardens ever since. It was just as well; he didn’t want to ruin something so beautiful.
Ivan slowed his pace as a soft melody drifted through the air, and he paused for a moment among the hedges to listen. The song was gentle and enchanting carried by a woman’s voice he’d never heard before. Was one of the gardeners singing while she worked?
He wished to pay her his compliments, so he followed the source of the noise until he rounded the corner to find a small woman with all manner of colors decorating her hair and her skin watering the flowers. Green markings in the shape of vines trailed up her arms and legs, with bright blue flower petals kissing her cheeks, and bright pink blossoms were woven into her braids. He wasn’t sure who, or what, she was, but she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“You have a lovely voice,” He said, eyes softening on her affectionately, but the moment she noticed him, she disappeared into a cloud of butterflies with a gasp, the watering can hitting the ground with a thunk.
Ivan’s eyes widened, and he cautiously approached the place where she’d stood. He picked up the watering can and glanced around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Had he imagined it all? He couldn’t have. That voice still sang to him in his memory, and her eyes as golden as the sun had born right into his own. So who was she, and why had she disappeared so suddenly?
“Ivan?” A voice broke his train of thought, and he blinked back to reality, setting the watering can on a stone bench.
“Coming!” He called, taking one last look over his shoulder to the dozens of butterflies fluttering around before scurrying off to his next lesson.