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Often, across Fódlan, parents will tell their children of the good hearted servant girl and the Duke that chased after the songs she sang. However with the passage of years, the names and the identities of those who lived in this story eroded and faded into the sands of time. The names of the little girl and the Duke are often confused for a young girl named Cinderette, a servant who slept in the ashes of a fireplace, and Duke Darling.
But I, dear reader, remember this tale very well and hold it dear to my heart. And while it is sad that the Duke and Cinderette have long since passed, I remind myself that Cinderette and the Duke lived. This is a tale of cinders and woes, but also of love and faith, dedication and perseverance.
It all began once upon a time, in the snowy lands of Faerghus. There once was a young girl named Annette Fantine Dominic; she was the only daughter of a kingdom knight and a noblewoman. Her family’s lands were bountiful and stretched from the vein-like rivers of Fhirdiad to the edges of the forest that bordered on the Tailtean Plains. There, Annette grew up, both happy and accomplished.
Throughout her childhood, Annette’s mother praised her kind heart and noble devotion. Constantly, her mother would tell her the following words:
“Believe in yourself Annette,
and if you do, you won’t ever regret.
Have faith in yourself and whatever you set your mind to,
I am certain, my child, that you will see it through.”
These were the words that steeled Annette’s heart and helped her throughout the toughest trials of her life. When she toiled chopping wood, she had faith in her hand; when she was trying to figure out how to cast a new spell she believed in her mind; and when she attempted a new recipe in their small cottage kitchen, Annette told herself that she could accomplish anything.
Annette was also gifted with one last item: a minor Crest, which had thought been removed from her family’s blood resurfaced in hers. Due to it, her magical prowess was beyond her years; as a result, she pushed herself hard to master spells and become a great student. In return for her merits, she took under the tutelage of a wise mage, who recommended her to the Royal School of Sorcery in the summer of her 13th year.
However, around the same time, her mother quickly fell ill. On her death bed, she called her beloved daughter to her side and held her tight. “Sweet Annette, my daughter, my life. Be happy and kind, but never forget that your fate lies in your own hands, your own grasp. Believe in yourself my Annette; and that way, you may never regret.”
By the dawn’s light, the Baroness had died and House Dominic fell into mourning. Woefully, Annette’s father sent her away to the Royal School of Sorcery to study while he settled the family’s estate and prepared the funeral.
While away, Annette learnt much, but was shocked when she returned and learnt that her Father had disappeared in the night after her mother’s funeral. In his place her uncle stepped forth as Baron. Not knowing how to raise a child, the Baron settled the household and requested that Annette study magic further at Garreg Mach Monastery, in the heart of all Fódlan.
Excited, Annette prepared for her journey to the Monastery. While scared for her future, she always put on a bright smile to her beloved uncle, thanking him for every gift and all the kindness he had shown her—albeit it very little in the short time they had known each other. But before Annette departed for the Monastery, she was given three things: the first, was a silver necklace that was her father’s; the second was a gorgeous gown left for the Monastery’s annual ball and the last was a blessing from her ancestor Dominic, that someone was bound to help her whenever she needed it.
But Annette’s initial happiness faded quickly. She was sent to the Monastery on her lonesome, with only a carriage to drop her off in the town. With her few belongings, Annette was confused for an orphan by the Archbishop’s records and placed her as a servant instead of a student.
Annette attempted to correct the mistake, but was struck down by the head librarian Tomas. Still, Annette faced her duty with a bright smile and gave all she could to the monastery. She toiled, and worked hard until she eventually was placed as a librarian keep.
But Annette saw this as an opportunity and remembered her mother’s dying words. This was not a set back, but an opportunity to improve her literacy and work hard at her magical skills at the same time. As she began to shelve books, she sang to herself and repeated her Mother’s words: "I believe in myself, that I will never forget.
And in faith, I may never ever regret.” She said as she lifted almanacs and atlases to their homes.
Annette had always loved books. From childhood she took comfort in them, escaping to far off lands and different times. Landing in the library was perhaps the happiest thing that could ever happen to Annette. She was incredibly talented at her job, knowing every book in the library from the very top shelves to the ones hidden away by the Archbishop’s order. She was quick to answer any question that the students had, guiding them to the proper texts and helping them with their research.
But all her kindness did not stop the students of the Academy—even the priests and monks—from their cruelty. Orphans and servants in the Monastery were treated poorly. The students left the library in shambles, some even sneaking in just to mess it up when she slept at night.
The servants chambers were often overcrowded and cold. On nights when the wind howled loud and low and Annette could scarcely climb the stairs to bed, she would sleep before the warm embers of the library fireplace. More often or not, she was found in front of the hearth, her face marked with ash and soot. For this and all her other woes, Annette was nicknamed Ashes and Cinders—even cruelly called Cinderette at times by the students and even Tomas.
But kindness ever bloomed in Annette’s heart, with her everlasting faith and perseverance. She taught herself advanced magic, helped the other servants in the kitchens and cathedral—even making friends with one, a cleric named Mercedes—and prayed to the Goddess for guidance daily.
Children are cruel though. When Annette studied in the night, the students made fun of her, playing cruel tricks and calling her mean names. The students from what would have been her own house teased her, despite her prowess and kindness.
Still, against all odds, Annette remained cheerful and kind. She would trade reading lessons to the less-fortunate servants in exchange for sweet cakes and cookies and often would send her wages back to the Baron Dominic, to help keep their lands safe and protected. When night fell, Annette would gather her sweets and meet Mercedes in the Cathedral, where they would talk and forget their woes for the night.
Annette often spoke of her late mother and her missing father. Though she never blamed them for the circumstances that she fell under at the time, she longed that things had’ve been different. Mercedes never spoke of herself, always curious about Annette.
However, many nights, Mercedes was often busy with confessionals and offering a shoulder to those who needed it. This left Annette to fill the time by herself, and face the cruelty of the students. One particularly bad night, the students had teased her, flicking ash and coal on her face, waking her up from her sleep.
“Cinderette! Girl who sleeps in soot, Cinderette!
Wonder how she hasn’t burnt up yet!” They jeered.
Annette roused from her sleep, and tried to chase them out of the library, but instead found herself pushed from her own home. Stealing a cloak and her shabby satchel, she fled through the Monastery—though it was forbidden at night—and found herself at the edge of the grounds where the town and marketplace began. She found a discarded cleric’s habit and veil to hide her face and washed the soot from her cheeks by the little lake. Annette drew the cowl around her head, hiding her face.
With nowhere else to go, Annette fled to the town of Garreg Mach, where many other students flocked to at night. She had always listened to the rules of the Monastery, but that night, something inside her could not take any more of the Monastery and their rules.
And perhaps, had she not been woken and treated badly, Annette may not have ever met Felix.
The night market was vast and bustling, with tea shops that housed lovers, stalls that advertised brooches of silver, copper earrings and gold rings, and most of all, music that carried on the nighttime air.
Ever since she was a child, Annette had loved music. The sounds of a lyre and flute, of a drum and harp made her feet prance and her voice call from her throat. As she passed through the market, she heard began to sing:
“Come kings, come the queens
Come thieves, common and cruel and men by all means.” She sung softly, her feet carrying her Goddess-knows-where.
“To the blustering nighttime market,
Where the sings the lark by the park-ette;
Where my love waits for me,
A long, lost lover bee.”
As her voice carried through the market crowd, a young swordsman, Felix, heard her song. In the midst of a wagered battle for half his monthly allowance, Felix’s focus faltered. Annette’s sweet voice pulled him from his concentration, falling upon the woman who it belonged to. He tore his eyes from his enemy, a foolish move.
And as fate would have it, Felix’s eyes fell upon Annette as he was stabbed. His cry fell upon the crowd, his enemy winning the duel as he crumpled into the mud. Annette’s eyes met upon the injured swordsman’s. She hurried over to him, summoning all her words of healing that she had learnt by herself. When her hands met his skin, he threw them away. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed.
“You’ll die without white magic, please—“
“I said, don’t touch me.” He repeated sharper this time.
Annette watched as he attempted to stand up, but crumpled back down into the dirt. Blood began to seep through his shirt. “Please sir I am a healer, I know white magic.” She pleaded.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been injured in a battle.” He barked back at her.
“It may be, but it is the first time that you are injured so badly that you could die. I can’t stand by and let you get hurt—“ Annette looked at the swordsman before shaking her head. “At least let me give you the tools so that you can live.”
The swordsman’s brow crinkled, the pain growing greater with the passing seconds. “Fine.” He said, watching as she dove into her satchel and produced gauze. “Press these into your wounds to slow the bleeding."
She searched for an ointment, her hands meeting the glass. “And when it’s stopped, dress it with this.” She ordered.
He pressed it against his wounds, gazing at her. “You seem familiar.”
Worry attacked her and Annette turned her eyes to his wound. “Just one of those faces.” She lied.
“Not just that. Your voice.” He asks. “It reminds me of someone in my school perhaps.”
Annette flustered, looked away before realizing that he meant the Officer’s Academy. “Sir I must insist that you stop and focus on your wounds.” She pleaded.
“Give me your name first.”
Annette faltered before swallowing hard. Knowing that she faced further cruelty if she admitted her true name, she lied. “The Countess Constance von Nuevelle.” She said.
“Nice lie.” He said. “She’s dead.”
“Will you just let me heal you? There is no need to have any attachments.” Her eyes flickered between his and the wound.
The swordsman glanced away, his hand lifting from the wound. Annette began to murmur the healing incantation, and while her lips moved with the spell, she stole a glance toward him. “It should heal up on it’s own.” She said to herself before resting back on her knees, weak from the spell.
“You know, you caused this.” The swordsman said abruptly.
Annette blanched. “I’m sorry?”
“Your voice. You were singing and it got the better of me.” He said. “It distracted me.”
Annette forced herself to her feet, moving as quick as she could. Stalls and vendors passed by them in the blink of an eye. The swordsman followed after her, just steps behind. “Will you come back tomorrow night?” He called.
“Why do you care?”
“I want to know how that song ends.” He ordered.
Annette frowned but nodded. “Maybe.” She called back before returning to the Monastery. When she slipped back inside, she found the library torn apart. For the rest of the night, she cleaned the library up, her steps light and airy with song.
But little did Annette know that she would return again the following night. After the day’s work had been done, and when the Monastery had all gone to rest, Annette stole away a new cloak and a veil from the cathedral. She walked into town, singing her song once again. Her voice carried on the nighttime air, and as the night before, the swordsman found himself distracted. However this time, he had the mind to call the duel. He fled to see Annette and coerced her into a pot of tea, which he insisted upon paying for. They talked that night, about the town, about Fódlan and her songs, the conversation lasting through several pots of tea.
As the Monastery clock chimed twelve, Annette realized the time. “Goddess above it is late.” She marvelled.
“So it is.” The swordsman remarked.
“Thank you for the cup... Pot of tea. It was kind of you.” She said, rising to her feet. “But I must be going, it is very late.”
“What, do you live in a nun’s convent? A library?”
Annette found herself laughing. “Something like that.” She whispered, turning on her heel. But as she moved away, the swordsman caught her hand, scaring her half to death with a blush.
“What is your name?” He asked. “And don’t lie to me.”
Annette swallowed hard. “Only if you tell me yours.”
“You can call me Hugo.”
Annette paused, knowing that if he knew that she was a servant in the monastery, he’d be disgusted. She lied again. “Then you can call me Fantine.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Yes.” Not a complete lie—it was her middle name.
“Will I see you again Fantine?” He asked.
“Perhaps.” She said, listening to the cathedral clock chime loudly. She fled back to the Monastery, running straight into Mercedes. She confessed everything to her, revelling in the leisure of a girl talk. However it was short lived, before Annette left to work on the library.
For her tardiness, Tomas, the head librarian, ordered her to reorganize the entire geographical section of the library, full of heavy atlases. “If you have time to chatter, you have time to shelve.”
And as fate would have it, that was when she met Hugo again, this time, as himself—Felix, a student of the Blue Lions house. There was no mistake about it, this man was Hugo, just as she was Fantine.
“You there, servant girl—“ He called upon Annette, who had just returned.
She faltered back, shielding her face. “Why are you so strange?” He asked, “I’m a student here, you’re to serve us—“
Realizing that her cowl had completely covered her face, Annette moved closer. “Yes? What are you looking for?”
”There was a collection on swords and weapons. Where did it go?” He asked, his eyes tracing the room.
Before long Annette showed him where the book was, and similar ones. As she turned to walk away, he spoke up. “I swear I’ve met you before.”
“Just—“ Annette stopped herself. “Just got here. So no.”
“You didn’t... go down to the night market?” He whispered, before catching himself. “Right, no. Servants cannot leave the grounds.”
Her heart sunk a little before leaving. “That’s correct. I’m always in here too.”
“What’s your name?”
Annette paused, a well of excitement building up inside her; to finally give her name away rather than for it to be told by someone else. But before she could speak it, the cheers of “Cinderette, Cinderette” came along, sending a flush to her face.
“Cinderette?” He guessed, his brow furrowing.
“My name is Annette.” She began to shelve books.
“I am Felix. Surprised we haven’t met yet.”
Annette duly enjoyed the company of Felix. After that day, he often came back to the library, calling upon the young shelver to answer his questions, and even speak to him candidly. Felix did not judge Annette based on how she looked—usually mussed up with ash and soot on her face from sleeping by the dying fire—but instead on how she acted. With Felix by her side, she became a little happier, a little kinder, and a little brighter.
“What has you all blushing and blue?” Mercedes teased one night.
“Oh Mercie, there’s a boy. I... I went down to the market that one night, and I met a swordsman.”
“A man?! Oh Annie, you didn’t!”
“I did! And then the next day he came to the library and—“
“No!” Mercedes happily exclaimed.
“He’s cold, but quite kind. And he’s mean, but gentle...” Annette contradicted herself over and over again before shaking her head.
“But does he recognize you?” Mercedes pressed.
“I gave him my middle name before fleeing that night. And now, he talks of Fantine all the time!”
Mercedes’s brow furrowed. “Who is...?”
“Me, Mercie!” She chirped. “Oh Goddess above, what if he recognizes me or my voice?”
“Your voice?”
“I was singing in the marketplace that one night. My singing must have been horrible, it gave him a startle; made him throw his fight...”
“Oh Annie, why don’t you go back down to the market again?” Mercedes blushed before laughing. “It’s obvious you like him...”
“But Mercedes, he’s a student here! I could get in trouble.”
“And you could stand to be in worse straits, Annie. Let yourself have a bit of fun!”
As luck would have it, Felix returned to the library at that moment, stopping their conversation. “That’s him!” Annette cried out, almost toppling off of her stool.
“Relax!” Mercedes said, before smirking. “Although... He is quite cute.”
“I healed his wounds once...” Annette confessed, hiding her face behind a book.
“Annie!” Mercedes gasped aloud. “How scandalous!”
Recognizing Annette, Felix drew closer. “Pardon the intrusion.” He said. “Here’s the book you lent me back, Annette.”
“Oh, thank you.” Annette bowed her head. “Mister Felix, this is Mercedes, a priest in the cathedral. Mercedes, Felix is a student of the Officer’s Academy, in the Blue Lions house.”
“Pleased to meet your acquaintance.” Mercedes curtseyed.
“Charmed.”
Mercedes glanced between the two. “Well I should be going. Lady Rhea wants the Cathedral cleaned top to bottom.”
“Mercie...” Annette spoke beneath her breath.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Felix.” Mercedes called before leaving the library.
As the silence settled between the two, Felix began to follow Annette as she swept and worked, holding her broom pan and books as she reshelved.
“I have something to confess. And I think you’re the only one who would understand.”
Annette flushed. “What is it?” She asked softly.
“There’s a girl...” Felix said as Annette stepped off her stool and sat down. “She’s... kind and sweet and I was nothing but rude to her.” The girl peered closer. “She... she has a beautiful singing voice. It distracted me from a duel—“
“Where?” Annette pressed before fumbling. “T-The Monastery forbids duels.”
“It’s none of your concern. Her voice though... It’s... It’s like I’m her captive. When I sleep I hear it; when I’m supposed to listen to seminars and lectures I hear her voice instead of the professor’s.” Felix explained.
Oh . Annette thought. What trouble I’ve wrought...
“Her name is Fantine... Have you ever heard of her?” He asked.
Annette weighed the choices in her hands before shrugging. “I can’t say... But she sounds wonderful.”
“I’ve gone to the market every night since. Just hoping to hear her voice.” He said. “If you ever see her, please tell me at once, Annette?”
“What does she look like?”
Felix fell silent. “Her face was covered. But if you hear a song about kings and queens, call me, tell me.” He said. “I must see her again. Promise?”
Annette nodded. “Okay. I promise.”
Struck, Annette once again covered herself that night. She hid her face with one of Mercedes’s pretty cowls, and took her beautiful dress from her mother and wore her father’s silver necklace. Annette descended upon the night market, gazing upon the people. Under her breath, she sang her song before tracing her steps as last time. Surely enough, she called the attention of Felix.
“Fantine!” Felix cried out, hurrying over to her. “You’re back.”
“Yes, and what of it?” Annette asked, continuing her walk.
“I... I longed to see you. And thank you for helping me with my wounds.” He said.
“You’re welcome, Hugo.”
The sound of lyres and flutes, of drums and harps took to the marketplace air, pulling Annette into a sway. The two walked along the cobblestone path of the marketplace, a sudden melancholy washing over Annette. She realized then that Felix was in love with Fantine, not herself. And she realized that if she were to take off her cowl and explain that she was both Annette and Fantine, that Felix might refuse her.
Still, she relished in the way they walked close. She asked if he attended the Monastery, and he lied, saying that he was only in training there as a mercenary. And as the night began to come to a close, Felix begged for one thing. “Give me a dance, Fantine. You don’t know how much it would mean.”
And with no quarrel, Annette took his hand and danced with him through the market square, happily humming the entire time. But when the clock struck midnight, Annette pulled from his grasp and ran as fast as her feet could carry her.
“Fantine! No!” Felix called after her, weaving through vendors and stalls. “Please! I beg you, don’t go!”
“I must go, I need to!” She cried out, turning so quickly that the old chain upon her neck snapped and fell to the ground. She hurried away, only glancing back over her shoulder to see Felix picking up her necklace and hurrying after her.
Annette returned to the monastery, confessing the entire night to Mercedes. The priest giggled and laughed, “Mercie, it’s not funny!”
“Oh but it is Annie! For so long, I’ve been praying for a miracle to be sent to you! And at last here it is!” She cried out. “A handsome and wealthy man, the answer to all your cinders and woes! Why, it’s like a fairytale!”
“Fairytales don’t exist Mercie!” Annette cried out as she readied for bed.
Mercedes only smiled at her friend. “I think you should hold tighter to faith and persevere, Annie. You never know what the future may hold.” She said, before leaving the library.
The flames flickered at Annette’s face. She sighed, pulling the old wool blanket tighter to herself. “I don’t know how the heck I’m going to get Father’s necklace back.” She whined before falling asleep.
And as luck would smile upon her again, Felix arrived at the library in the early morning. “Annette,” He woke her from the ashes, shaking her shoulders.
The servant woke and trembled. “Felix, what’s wrong?” She asked; his eyes were bloodshot and marked with dark circles, his uniform disheveled. “Are you alright?”
“I saw her again. I saw Fantine. The other night. And she left this behind.” He explained, holding out her father’s necklace. “I looked for her all night but she wasn’t there.”
Annette held her hand out. “I know this.” She murmured, holding back her desire to cry out that she was Fantine. “I saw a girl... c-come by here wearing it...”
“You‘ve seen Fantine?” He cried out, almost lunging for her.
Annette nodded. “Here, allow me to return it to her—“
“And tell her that I need to see her again.” Felix stumbled. “Wait, no. Tell her that I want her to be my guest at the Monastery’s Goddess Tower Ball.”
Even Annette knew of the sanctity of the Ball. For years she had longed to go, but servants were forbidden, for they were to assist with the festivities. Struck, Annette stumbled. “But she might not have anything to wear—“
Felix’s brow furrowed. “What?” He asked.
“She is just a healer right? You said she was—“ Annette fumbled.
Felix shook his head. “I don’t care what she comes in—be it that cowl or the rags you wear, I just need to see her again.” He begged. “Tell her that.”
He handed her back the silver necklace, watching as Annette held it close and nodded. “Of course, Felix. I will tell her everything.” She promised.
Annette felt as though she was floating upon a cloud. She waltzed through the library that day, shelving and cleaning. And while the other students gazed upon Annette, they grew jealous of her happiness. While she was away, one of the elder, more envious students, found her mother’s gown and handed it over to Tomas.
“I swear she’s stolen it! The little servant girl in the library did. Why ever would Cinderette have such a pretty gown?” They cried.
Tomas agreed and confronted Annette. When he held the gown before her, it was slashed with daggers and the beading became unfurled. Annette gasped at the state of her inheritance. “What have you done with my mother’s dress?!” She cried out, tears flooding her eyes.
“You intended to go to the ball, did you not?” Tomas asked. “Servants are not permitted, and you, wicked Cinderette, will not set foot near the Goddess Tower!”
Tomas stole Annette away and sentenced her to clean the stacks of the monastery library. She was given no food or rest, cleaning from dawn to dusk. As the night began and Annette heard the music from the ball below her feet, she began to sob. Falling to her knees amongst the stacks, her tears fell on the floor.
“I can’t have faith or perseverance anymore...” She winced through her sobs. “I can’t. I am sorry Mother, I am sorry Father... I cannot...”
As she curled into herself and sobbed, the door to the library opened. With her tears deafening her ears, Annette did not realize that a beautiful woman, dressed in beige and black knelt before her. She smoothed Annette’s hair and held her close.
“Sweet child, hold tight to your faith. By the Goddess’s grace you must;
Your heart is kind, warm and just.” She whispered.
Annette looked up from her crying lap, to gaze upon a beautiful woman, gleaming like the Goddess herself. “Dry your tears Annette, you will see him again.” She cooed. Her hand wiped away her tears.
Struck for a moment, Annette recognized the woman. “Mercedes?!” She cried out. “What are you doing?! Why are you dressed so nicely?!”
Mercedes smiled, laughing softly. “I am Mercedes, but I am more. In truth, I am your fairy godmother. Er... Sister.”
“What?”
“All this time, I have befriended you, to keep your sadness at bay. And all your life you have only ever been kind and just to people. Now is the time to receive a gift.” She says. “You have had faith and perseverance as your mother commanded and held fast to her wishes for you.”
The fairy pulled Annette to her feet. With a wave her hand and a grasp of her relic—the Refrail gem—Annette’s tattered dress transformed into the beautiful ballgown it had been. Another twirl and grasp brought lovely silver jewelry upon her wrists, neck and ears. One final spin and a shimmering veil fell over Annette’s face, with a silver circlet to keep it in place.
Mercedes took Annette’s hands and placed a motherly kiss upon her forehead—a kiss of protection from recognition—she spoke. “This is the divine mother’s gift to you, to dance the evening away without restraint. But take heart sweet Annette, by the clock’s twelfth chime at midnight, the spell will be broken and everything will return to as it was.”
“Mercie, this is more than I could have ever dreamed of.” Annette breathed, threatening tears again.
“Now go! Find Felix!” But as she ran away, Mercedes noticed that her slippers were torn and ruined. With a twist of a final magic spell, Mercedes turned them to glass. Annette stared at them in wonder, her steps chiming with the ring of glass.
Running out of the library, she hurried towards the Reception Hall, where the ball was held. The sounds of music made her footsteps light and airy as she danced towards the ball. As the doors opened, all eyes fell upon the dancer, looking out into the crowd with bewildering beauty and mystique.
“Who is she?” Asked Ingrid of Galatea, a close friend of Felix’s.
“She veils herself like a holy woman.” Another friend, Dimitri, observed.
Felix, resigned to waiting for Fantine, perked up. “Ha! I bet she’s beautiful under there. I’ve always had a thing for holy women.” Sylvain of Gautier joked.
Felix watched as the crowds separated to allow the dancing girl through. Recognizing her veiled look, he shoved his way through the crowds, hurrying towards her. Caught in the music, and not realizing that it had ended, Annette danced right into Felix.
“My sincerest apologies, sir—“ she stopped, looking up into Felix’s eyes. “Hugo...”
“Fantine. You came.”
Annette swallowed back nervousness. She nodded. “Yes. The library girl, Cinderette,” She cringed at calling herself such a cruel name. “Told me that you found my necklace and wanted me to come as thanks.”
“I did.” Felix glanced to his feet. “Did she tell you that I am not just a mercenary?”
“I deduced that on my own.”
“I am a student here. I train in the market at night to become a mercenary.” He said before clearing his throat. “Apologies.”
Annette nodded.
“You look... absolutely beautiful. Thank you for coming.”
“As my lord wishes.” Annette curtseyed.
The band began to play another song as Annette swayed with the music. Boldly, Felix took her hand. “The next dance, will you share it with me?” Annette trembled, words escaping her. “Please Fantine. Just one dance.”
Annette found her voice again. “Well, that is the reason I came to the ball after all.”
Felix elated for a second, before fighting it off with indifference. Together, the two danced the night away. As the ball began to draw to a close, Felix led her up to the Goddess Tower. Bathed in the stark moonlight, Annette began to sing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Felix elate again, watching as she traced the Tower’s steps with her song.
“Fantine I must confess; you hold me as your captive.”
Annette blushed as he drew closer. “I do?”
“Your songs, I hear them when I sleep, when I am studying. You hold me in some spell.” He confessed. “But...”
“But?”
His hand dared to trace her shoulder, moving up to her veil. “I long to know the face of the woman who takes me as her prisoner.”
Annette slipped from his grasp. “I’m afraid I cannot—“
“I don’t care if you are scarred before recognition or burned by spells, I must know.”
“Hugo, I—“
“Please, just one glance to see you again before I leave.”
“Leave?” She echoed.
“Graduation is upon us.” He said. “But I do not wish to go. Your voice... your kindness... I am captured by your heart, Fantine.”
“Hugo,”
“No. My name is Felix, heir to Fraldarius territory. You should know that.” He said, drawing close once more. “And Fantine, be you a scarred noble healer or committed cleric, you should know that you have captured my heart.”
Her heart faltered. “Please. Consider me.“ He whispered. “Allow me one glance.”
Slowly, Annette raised her hands to the silk of her veil; underneath the material, she saw Felix’s eyes widen with hope. But as her fingertips met the veil’s edge, the Monastery clock chimed with midnight on the helm.
“Goddess above, it is midnight.”
“It is.” Felix whispered.
“I must go.”
The nobleman’s brow furrowed. “But the ball will continue until late—“
“I am needed back home.” Annette said, turning away quickly. “I am sorry Duke Fraldarius—“
“Felix, if you please.”
“Felix.” Annette corrected, glancing once more over her shoulder. “Felix, please do not follow me.”
Annette lifted the hem of her ballgown and began to run. “Fantine?” Felix called before taking off after her. Running as fast as her feet could carry her, Annette descended the Tower’s staircase, fled through the dancing ballroom, pushing her way out. Felix followed after her, calling for someone to stop her.
But as Annette came to the reception hall, she tripped down the stairs, losing one of her glass slippers. Her ball gown began to revert into it’s torn state, the veil slowly disintegrating into ash and the crown and jewelry becoming stardust. The servant turned her back on the lost slipper running as quickly as she could.
Felix found the stray slipper, allowing Annette to escape. He picked up the shoe, marvelling at it’s beauty before holding it tight and vowing to find the woman who fit the shoe.
Upon returning to the library, Annette was reminded of her ruined dress. While it still ached, Annette could not help but smile, knowing that her faith and perseverance were gifts that would never fade. While her ballgown had returned to slashes and rags, and her jewelry had returned to smears of ash and soot, the other slipper remained on her foot in perfect glass.
With this final memory of her night with Felix, Annette stashed it away amidst the stacks. When Tomas returned, although he gave her more work and no rest, Annette worked with a sway in her step.
Graduation day came upon Garreg Mach, and with it, came Felix’s goodbye to Annette. He thanked her for all help with Fantine. “Wait, Felix.” She said, catching his arm.
“What is it Annette?” He asked, turning back to her.
The servant blushed and bowed her head. “I need to know before you go... Do you... love Fantine?” She asked.
For a moment, Felix was silent. Then, he nodded softly. “Yes. Yes I think I do.” He says. “But she fled.”
“Did she now?”
“Off into the night.” He says. “But she left behind a clue. This.”
He produced the glass slipper, watching as her eyes widened. “It’s sort of amazing, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She whispered.
“I plan to call for everyone who was at the ball to come to my territory to try it on. If...” He touched her hand. “If you see Fantine, please tell her that I want her to come and claim her slipper. She doesn’t need to return my feelings, I just...”
Annette’s hands clasped around his. “I understand my lord. I’ll let her know.”
“Thank you Annette. You’ve been a kind friend.” He said. The two said farewell, with Felix leaving the library for the final time.
With the graduation, the Monastery cleared out. The servants roamed the grounds and were soon placed elsewhere. Annette faced further ache and woes in the kitchens where she toiled. Everyday, she thanked the Goddess for the miracle that she received; she thanked Mercedes for her kindness and friendship; and she held fast to her hope and perseverance amidst the cinders and woes.
Finally, Sothis gazed upon the child with blessings. By the Harpstring moon, Annette’s father had found her at the Monastery. Confused as to why his daughter was a servant and not a student, he demanded that she be released. She spoke of the cruelty that Tomas and the students subjected her to. Though the students had all graduated and could not be punished, Tomas bore the brunt for ignoring Annette’s pleas for help.
In addition, Annette warned her father of the other children who faced injustice as servants. The knights of Seiros and the Archbishop set forth new regulations to allow them a better chance at life.
Annette and her father returned to their territory where her father reclaimed the role as the Baron. Finally, Annette washed away the ashes and cinders from her skin, returning to the happy child she had once been before her adventure at Garreg Mach.
Another miracle came, when Mercedes arrived upon her family’s doorstep, advising Annette of the ball to be held by Fraldarius territory. “You must come, Felix expects his Fantine.”
“Oh but Mercie, am I still Fantine?” Annette asked. “I don’t know if I’m a servant or a healer or the daughter of a knight. Who am I anymore?”
Mercedes held her close. “You are Annette, faithful and preserving, and kind of heart.” Mercedes proclaimed.
Days later, an invitation arrived; it was to the ball that Felix vowed to have. It was planned for five year’s time, when his stint in the military would end and he was expected to marry.
I don’t have to decide now. Annette thought to herself.
To while the years away, Annette asked to return to the Monastery, this time as the resident librarian. She and Mercedes happily lived there, but with the passing of time, Annette found her heart longing for Felix. She wrote letters to him, detailing that she and Fantine had become close friends, that they both missed him.
But tell me Annette, will she come to the ball? He wrote. I plan to have it at the monastery now, for her ease.
She will come. Annette responded.
When five years passed and the banners of Fraldarius territory came down from the north, the ball approached. In the passing of years, Felix’s heart had both softened and hardened; and Annette herself had transformed from the lowly servant girl and into a talented librarian and mage. When he arrived at the monastery, the first thing that Felix did was flee to the library. He threw open the doors, watching as Annette’s head whipped around.
The two greeted each other, after some time apart. Felix’s gaze however, lingered on Annette’s face. “You’ve changed, Annette. What happened?” He asked.
The librarian simply smiled. “Just a miracle I suppose.” She smiled.
“Will you come to the ball too?” He found himself asking. Quickly, he forced a feigned reason. “After all, without you, Fantine wouldn’t come.”
Annette nodded. “Of course I will.” She said.
“That reminds me, I want to test something on you.” He said, pulling out a chair. “I don’t know what Fantine looks like.”
“Oh, I don’t think anyone does sir.”
“Precisely. But I have her slipper from the ball all those years ago. I plan to check if it still fits but...”
Annette smirked. “You don’t know how to do it.” She whispered, astonished.
Felix blushed. “Sh-Shut up.” He said. “Just sit.”
“Okay okay,” she relented, wearing a smile. She sat down in the chair, watching as Felix knelt before her.
He pulled off her heel, producing the glass slipper. “I plan to tell her that I...” He stopped, the word love catching in his throat. “I wish to make her my bride, and that she will come with me to House Fraldarius.”
“And how will you know it is her?” Annette breathed. “The shoe might fit anyone.”
Felix slid the glass slipper upon her foot, fitting perfectly. His brow furrowed in confusion as he met her gaze. “With a look.” He assured her. For a moment, Annette considered speaking the truth.
“I see.” She whispered.
“The shoe... should only fit one size foot.” He whispered before shaking his head. He pulled it off her foot, replacing her heel. “Regardless, I will know.”
“I see,” Annette said again, almost saddened.
“The ball is tonight. I will see you then.” Felix said, before quickly excusing himself. “And if you see Fantine, tell her to meet me in the Goddess Tower.”
As the Monastery closed down for the day, Annette donned her Mother’s torn ballgown and her old, torn slippers. From the stacks, she retrieved the other glass slipper, holding it tight. Mercedes, ever kind, used the last of her magic to fix the ballgown. As she raised the Refrail Gem to grace her with a veil and crown, Annette stopped her.
“No. I intend to go as myself.” She confessed. “I only hope that Felix will accept me as I am.”
Mercedes sadly smiled and nodded. Around her forehead, she placed a crystal circlet. The elder left to attend the ball herself, leaving Annette in the quiet of the library. With shaky breath, she prayed to her ancestor, Dominic, for strength to see this night through. And her ancestor, ever kind and grateful, gave Annette the strength she needed.
The librarian left her home, climbed the stairs to the Goddess Tower with the glass slipper in her hands. She waited behind a screen of roses, upon a marble bench for Felix. Footsteps filled the Tower, then a call.
“Fantine?”
Annette swallowed back her fear. “I have come Felix, just as you asked.”
His footsteps came closer. “Thank you.”
“Please, just for a moment, stay where you are. I need to speak with you before anything else happens.”
“As you wish.” Felix agreed.
Annette held the slipper tight. “You need to know that I think... I think I am in love with you Felix.” She said. “And that I am not who I appear to be.”
“How so.”
Annette turned her head, her silhouette hidden by the rose curtain. “I’m not a healer, but a mage. And I’m not noble, but common.”
“And?”
“And do you take me as I am?”
“Of course I do.” Felix said. “Please, let me see you.”
Annette slowly turned back from the curtain. “Come along then.” She whispered.
She shut her eyes, listening to the sounds of his boots against the ground. Holding the other slipper tight, Annette steeled herself with Dominic’s strength.
“Annette?” Felix breathed. “Where is Fantine?”
“We are the same. I am Annette Fantine Dominic. A common girl, the daughter of a knight. The healer and your love Fantine, and your friend, Annette.”
Felix sat down beside her, glancing at the slipper in her hands. “Your dress is proof enough. And the other slipper—“
“If you don’t return my feelings, it’s fine.” Annette said, burgeoning on tears. “You deserved to know the truth.”
A silence fell between the two as the Monastery clock chimed midnight. It’s death knell deafened Annette’s thoughts, holding Felix’s gaze as tears fell from her eyes and into the slipper.
“Do you need to go?” He asked, a playful jab at their meetings before.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then may I see if the slippers fit?”
Slowly, Annette nodded and handed over the other shoe. As the clock let out it’s final chimes, Felix removed the worn slippers from Annette’s feet. With soft chime, the glass slippers fit just as they did five years ago. Tears began to fall from Annette’s eyes.
“Annette Fantine Dominic,” Felix began to ask as she started to cry. “Will you return to Fraldarius territory with me?”
“But I am only a common girl.”
“And I don’t care about status. You are both my love and my friend.” He said, sitting up to take her hand. “Damn anyone who opposes it.”
“Are you sure you are making the right decision?”
“I told you, I would know with a look.” Felix promised her. A smile spread across Annette’s lips as she agreed to follow him back to Fraldarius. In the spring, the two were married in a small ceremony in the Monastery’s cathedral. Felix became Duke Fraldarius, and Annette was his Duchess.
To this day, dear reader, parents still tell their children of Annette and Felix. With time, their names were erased from history, becoming nothing more than the remnants of a fairy tale. However, the little glass slippers remained, and to this day, rest in the Monastery’s vault.
The important part of this story, dear reader, is that Annette and Felix lived and lived happily ever after.