Archive of Our Own

Once upon a time, there was a boy. He was almost a man, caught in a silly place in between. He toiled away everyday, working his fingers to the bone, trying desperately to make those around him proud to no avail. Each day he woke with determination but each night he went to bed lonely and exhausted. One evening, after all the other boys had gone to play and left him all alone, he watched the stars twinkle outside his window. Suddenly a star fell from the sky. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Surely this was some magic sent to him in reward for all his hard work. Quickly, he squeezed shut his eyes and made 3 wishes.

He wished he would find the path in life that would bring him joy, he wished he would find a true friend, and he wished that one day, he would have his own child to be proud of. When he opened his eyes, the star was gone but the constellations shone brighter than he’d ever seen. It seemed as if a whole world was just outside his window.

On a day like any other, the boy went into town to fetch some bread and fruit for his mother. There were many people gathered in the square. They were laughing gleefully at some jester. Even as the laughter died down, they chatted with one another, making friends. The boy stood back a watched, aching for that kind of joy. When the crowd parted, the boy was shocked to see that what held the people’s attention had not been a jester or a minstrel or even a poet. It was a handsome prince.

He stood tall in the square, his hair dark as night, his skin like fresh milk. The boy had never seen the ocean and he thought he’d never need to for the prince’s eyes were deeper and more blue than any ocean would dare to be. That night, the boy asked his mother about the charming prince he had seen in town. She explained that he was the son of a kind and benevolent queen from kingdom not too far away. His brother was a brave night, his father loving and jolly. The prince had traveled far and wide, his only purpose to make people smile and bring them together.

The boy went each day to see the prince in the square but always stood in the back, lost in the crowd. He’d stay behind as the townspeople dispersed to give a small wave or a thin smile but he never spoke to the prince and he never laughed. He was certain he was not worthy of one so charismatic, so good. On the 5th day, the prince called out to the boy as he begun to walk away. Quaking in fear, the boy slowly joined the prince where he stood. The prince tilted his head this way, and that, examining the boy. He pulled a small pot of ink from his pocket, staining his fingers as he fumbled to open the lid. He dipped in his fingertip and to the boy’s surprise, dabbed the inked finger to his nose. He did the same to himself then proceeded to dip his finger again and draw 3 lines to each side of the boy’s nose and again, to his own.

The prince looked a fool in cat’s nose and whiskers and the boy knew he did too. He felt his mouth curl into a smile as he stared, stunned, at the grinning prince. Finally the prince opened his mouth and let out a loud meow, like the roar of a tiny baby lion cub. The boy could hold back no longer and he chortled with laughter, doubling over and holding his belly, trying to catch his breath. The two sat down in the dirt and laughed and talked till the sun hung low in the sky. The prince said goodbye, his tongue caught between his smiling teeth.

That night, as the boy slept, a demon crept into his his room. It sat on his shoulder and pulled his dreams from his ears. The boy did not know that his dreams of toil and turmoil had kept the demon fed for a decade. The demon gagged and spat as sweet dreams of love and friendship, laughter and hope burned his throat. Enraged, he pulled a curse from deep in his belly, showering the boy with a heavy darkness that could only be lifted by the pure heart of a true friend. The demon knew the boy would be cursed forever, for this boy had no friends. Now he’d stay locked in a dark dungeon of his own making, dreaming the dismal misery the demon craved.

When the boy woke, he felt as if a heavy stone were on his chest. He hadn’t the strength to lift the stone so he stayed in bed. His mother brought a tray of food, thinking him ill, but he left it untouched. He thought of the handsome prince, but a voice in his mind only assured him that the prince had forgotten him, that he could never care for anyone so useless as the boy. He drifted in and out of sleep, holding himself in a tight ball, doing his best to disappear. 4 days passed and the boy was unchanged. His parents feared for his soul.

On the fifth day, the boy heard a carriage approach the cottage, outside his window. He turned toward the noise then drifted back to rest on his pillow. Soon his door flew open, his mother white as a ghost was calling out to him. Someone had come to see him but who? Who even knew he was alive? If only to quiet the shouts of his mother and father, the boy pulled himself up and made his way to the courtyard. There, with all of the expected traveling companions, was the prince. He offered his hand to the boy and upon taking it, the boy felt a great weight lift off of his shoulders.

The boy thought of gathering his things but he realized that nothing of value in his life could be held in his hand. That is except for the hand he currently held, the hand of the prince. The prince asked the boy to join him in his travels. They would spread laughter and joy and bring people together, together. And now they had something else to share with the people, because they had love. Their love would inspire people all over the world to hope for something better and to love with everything they have. And do you know what happened next?

“They lived happily ever after.” The child whispered.

That’s right.

“But papa, why did he get 3 wishes?” The child asked.

Because you always get three wishes. That’s how wishes work . 

The child nodded thoughtfully, satisfied with this answer. She held three fingers up and counted carefully.

“Papa?”

Yes my darling girl.

“The boy wished for a child to be proud of. He didn’t get his third wish.”

Oh but he did. She came many years later and she was worth every minute of the wait.

The child yawned and rolled to her side.

She whispered again, “What was her name?”

Her name is Dorothy, just like her Daddy’s grandmum.

“But that’s my name, papa.” the child mumbled, nearly giving in to sleep.

Is it now?

Hush now and sleep, love. Papa will tell you more stories tomorrow.

End.