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Once upon a time, there was a village. And in that village, there were all the trappings of a typical fairy-tale life, though none of its inhabitants would know it. There were cottages, forests, even a castle and a charming prince. Life was good, for every person, animal, and creature in between.
If you were to ask Jean Moreau to describe said village, though, he would tell you about the dingy, dusty kitchen he’d worked in half his life, about scrubbing the floors until his hands bled. Or he would tell you about the small attic where he slept (when he was allowed to sleep), where the sunlight could only come in through a small crack in the ceiling. Some whispered that magic was still alive in the village, but if it did, Jean didn’t believe in it. He didn’t believe in much anymore, truth be told.
The morning the fateful letter arrived, he couldn’t tell you how many mornings had passed since he came to the village, but he could say it was the first royal decree he’d ever seen. He retrieved the letter and brought it to Master Tetsuji, who read over it carefully. Jean didn’t presume to ask the contents unless he was told.
“A royal ball,” Tetsuji said, startling Jean out of his reverie. “This is good. A chance to make deals and prepare. We will have to put our best foot forward.”
Jean nodded and took the letter back. In his haste to continue his chores (good fortune for them meant more work for Jean), he forgot to take the letter out of his pocket, which would turn out to be a bit of magic.
When chance told him to unfold and read the note later that night, his eyes gravitated to the words, “all citizens, high and low, are encouraged to attend.” Once, perhaps, that may have given him hope, for maybe, there would be someone who knew of his family, of the deal, someone who could take him away. Now, though, he folded it back up and went to sleep.
--
The day of the ball came and the master and his wretched nephew were sent off with little fuss. Faced with a night off, he made his way to the garden. The sun was too brutal for him, but at night, the moon was enough light to soothe his frayed nerves. He had long ago learned to make his way around in the dark.
He sat quietly on a bench at the edge of the garden and looked up to the moon and stars.
“Why aren’t you at the ball?” came a voice from above him.
Jean startled and looked up. A young woman with hair as silver as the moon looked down at him. “Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Renee. You didn’t answer my question.”
Jean scowled. “There would be no place for me at a royal ball. How did you get in here anyway? The gate is locked.”
The woman-Renee-tilted her head and smiled. “I’m here because you want me to be.”
Jean frowned. “I don’t even know who you are. How could I have wished you here?”
“Perhaps not in words. But in your heart, you wished for an escape.”
His lips twisted in a wry smile. “And you think if I go to the ball, all my dreams will come true?”
“Why not?”
He shook his head in derision, but Renee pressed on. “What do you have to lose?”
That made him pause, for truly, what did he have to lose? What more could be taken from him?
“The ball has already started. By the time I walked there, it would be over. Besides, they wouldn’t let me in, the way I’m dressed.”
Renee smiled at that and waved her hand. Suddenly, he was no longer in his tattered rags, but in fine clothes, nicer than anything he knew he owned.
“What…”
“There is magic in this land, whether you believe in it or not. Now, I ask, would you like to go to the ball?”
And while his head said no, the little voice in his heart that had laid dormant for years pushed through his mouth and answered, “Yes.”
Before he could process what he’d said, he was at the palace, in a line to get in. He was sure he would be turned away, but he was let in without a fuss. He found himself in the grand ballroom, a room where the ceiling seemed as far away as the sky. He kept to the edges, watching people dance and laugh. It was dizzying, being around this many people, feeling as though the entire world was sharing proximity with him.
In a fit of panic, he fled, not caring where he ended up or what direction he was going. In his haste, he didn’t realize he was about to crash into someone. He blanched and helped them up.
“I am sorry. I-”
The man he knocked over stood and brushed himself off. “No harm done. Are you alright? You look half frightened to death.”
The man had kind eyes, and Jean swore he looked familiar, though he couldn’t place why. “I’m-I don’t know.”
The man nodded sympathetically. “Would you like to talk about it? I know the best hiding places in the castle.”
Something in the man’s easy smile compelled him to take the offered hand and follow his lead. He led them to a small alcove, not far from the kitchens. Maybe the man was a servant like him.
“Do you work here in the palace?”
Something flickered in the man’s face, but it passed quickly. “Something like that. I’m Jeremy, by the way.”
“That’s the prince’s name.”
“It’s common enough. And your name?”
“Jean.”
Jeremy smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jean. What part of the kingdom are you from?”
And despite- or perhaps because-he had known Jeremy for only a few minutes, he told him all about the little farmhouse he’d grown up in, how his mother had told him all about the magic that inhabited their home.
Jeremy seemed enthralled. “And is your family here?”
At that, Jean’s expression closed once more. “My family died when I was ten. My position at the estate is a formality.”
“Your position?”
“I am just a servant.”
“In your family’s home?”
“It is what it is.”
Jeremy looked as though he wanted to say more, but restricted himself to asking, “And they treat you well, at least?”
Jean snorted. “They treat me as well as they’re able.”
“If they own the land, can you not buy it back from them?”
“You would have to be the king to afford that.”
Jeremy gave a funny laugh and let the conversation drift elsewhere. He learned that Jeremy had spent his whole life in the palace. He was known for stealing pastries, but the kitchen staff liked him enough to ignore it. He found the alcove they were in once to avoid getting caught with his contraband and no one yet had found it. He found himself drawn in by Jeremy, losing track of time until the clock struck midnight. His master would be arriving home soon.
“I must go.”
“But-why?”
“My master...if I am not home when he arrives, I will be punished.”
“Stay. Please.”
“Jeremy...I cannot.”
Jeremy’s face turned resolute. “What if I were to pay for your home?”
“How could you afford that on a servant’s wages.”
“I’m not a servant. I’m the prince.”
Jean’s world turned slightly. “You’re-what?”
Jeremy had the decency to look slightly guilty. “I-it was nice talking to someone who seemed to like me for me, instead of my title. I hope you can forgive me.”
Jean looked wary. “I-I cannot ask you to pay for my debt.”
“You didn’t. I offered. You’ve been so lovely, I couldn’t bear to know I’d allowed you to go back there. It’s your home. You should have it.”
“How can I repay you?”
Jeremy flushed a bit. “The joy of your company?”
“I am no fit consort for a prince.”
“Luckily I’ve never been very good at doing the expected thing.” He smiled that lopsided, beautiful smile and squeezed Jean’s hand. “Stay. And let me handle the rest.”
Jean squeezed back and allowed Jeremy to pull him into an embrace. The stayed in the alcove all night and by the time the sun rose in the morning, royal guards had been dispatched to Jean’s little farmhouse to send Tetsuji away. Jean, of course, didn’t know this yet, too warm from Jeremy’s head on his shoulder and hand in his.