Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun was harsh on his skin as he trudged on towards the Mezalean town center. It was around midday or so, the sweltering heat at its highest point of the day. Jimmy’s shirt stuck to his chest, sweat making his skin slightly crawl with discomfort. He focused on the lovely views of Mezalea though, breathing deeply to try and reduce his nervousness. The towering sunlight made everything look like it was glowing, the gorgeous colors and rounded roofs of the architecture calling to him. There were lots of people roaming about, all tree elves; they were all shorter than him, their skin similar to the bark of the azalea trees around them and their hair a mesmerizing green. They stared at him, although Jimmy didn’t know if it was with disgust or just plain curiosity.

He had never visited the central city of Mezalea before, only the outskirts on the occasional trips he made with his father. It was strange to think he was by himself; for sixteen years, Jimmy had gone everywhere with his father. A crinkling smile, gentle rough hands, an enveloping hug. Let it be to the ranch next door, the nearest Mezalean town, or the single time they visited the main city of Crystalia to get his top surgery. The only times he was without him were the times he spent with his best friends. Fiery orange hair, feathery white wings, two warm hands in his. It must’ve been because of his incredible lack of luck or fate’s dislike for him that Tango and Skizz moved away years ago.

So now there he was, wandering busy streets on his own. He felt out of place in his farm clothes which —although patched up and relatively clean— were very different from the elves’ gorgeous gowns and tunics in rich greens, purples, and whites. He stood out in more ways than one, with his packed bag, foreign clothes, appearance and accent. Their words were like cursive, delicate and confusing to his ears. He knew they could speak the regional elven dialect, had heard it from one of his father’s trade partners, but he also knew most of the Mezaleans he knew used English on the usual. Maybe they preferred their native tongue in central Mezalea, given their proximity to the center of their culture —The Mother Tree—.

His dad had told him the story of Mother Tree, of how she came to be. He told Jimmy about the original state of the mesa centuries ago, dry and dead like any other desert. One day, a young tree elf wandered into the mesa by accident and got lost, sadly dying after days on her own. Her life force, instead of being left to rot, was taken by her people’s goddess: Mother. Mother took the young elf’s soul and planted it into the sand, feeding it with Her magic. Within a few years, a tree grew. It kept growing, slowly attracting Her people nearby. Some of them claimed to hear Her voice, inviting them to settle down, start a village at Her very roots. Their beliefs in her strengthened, starting their own church to honor Her and asking for Her guidance when in need. They cared for Her and their lands and in exchange She provided food and shelter. Within a few decades, the small village turned into an established kingdom. She chose who would rule, always a wise old elf who would become King and care for the recently named Mezalea. The people decided to elect a council, a group of wise elves who would aid their King in decision making and allow him to have time to spend with his family as well. The Kings lasted between a few decades and a century or so, and then She would choose a new King to care for Her Mezalea.

Jimmy thought it was a lovely story. He always wanted to meet Her, see the Mother Tree with his own eyes. The stories his dad told him as a kid were always so interesting, and maybe that’s why he headed towards Mezalea when he left the ranch. It was a sort of comfort, something known. Something that reminded him of his father without it being home. And maybe he also hoped that if he prayed to Her, she would guide him to where he needed to go. Jimmy ignored the slight hint of familiarity that Mezalea brought, or the comfort he felt when he caught a whiff of the salty ocean air. They called to him, somewhat… It was just nostalgia. He missed his dad.

His steps were heavy as he trudged through the streets, eyes focused on the looming tall branches of the Mother Tree at the center of Mezalea. His mind wandered back to the stories he heard as a child. He was never religious, but that didn’t mean he didn’t believe that what gave life to Mezalea wasn't real. The Mezaleans prayed to Mother and She helped them in exchange for love and care. Jimmy knew he cared for the world, cared for the animals on the ranch and grew wheat with love. Surely he was deserving of Her help, deserving of Her guidance.

As he neared the base of the tree, the murmurs around him quietened. He felt as the Mezaleans stared at him as he knelt by an elevated root, eyes closed. He had never prayed before, never taken the time to speak to any god. He didn’t even know if he had to be at the base of Her tree to be heard. But he figured that She would forgive him for his mistake if he did anything wrong; She wasn’t cruel.

Oh great Mother. Hello, my name is Jimmy Solidarity. Do I need to introduce myself? I don’t know, you probably know who I am right? I don’t know what I’m doing right now haha, I’ve never prayed before. Um… My dad just died. I came here all the way from my ranch to ask for your help. I don’t know what I’m meant to do, where I’m meant to go. I can’t stay there anymore, not without him. Please, great Mother, I ask for your help and guidance in my life.

The murmuring started again, this time in indignant whispers. He could hear a guard’s armor clinking, walking away. Jimmy’s eyes opened in confusion when a hand was placed on his shoulder. The old tree elf that grabbed him looked at him with a grimace, even if his eyes seemed to be blind, purely white. A seer, his mind supplied. He was Mother’s preacher, and could hear Mother directly, or at least that’s what the stories said. He must have done something wrong to offend them, if they were stopping his prayers.

“Am I doing it wrong? Sorry, I’ve never really prayed before.”

Jimmy winced as the elf helped him up, holding his upper arm with a strong grip and keeping him there. Maybe the elf didn’t know English? The seer’s gaze was fixed on the path that led to the palace, focused on a group of elves that was nearing the tree, flanked by two guards. His heart sank. Had he broken any laws? Was it illegal to pray by the tree? Maybe they had churches for that, he didn’t know a lot about central Mezalea. He laughed nervously, hands starting to sweat.

“I really do apologize if I did anything to offend your culture or Mother. I can- I can leave if you need me to?”

The two guards moved to stand behind him as the fancy elves walked towards him as he spoke. The young human grinned nervously, hand gripping the edge of his bag. He logically knew he did nothing wrong, but he hadn’t even thought about how weird he probably looked, how much he stood out. Maybe he broke some sort of secret rule? They probably didn’t receive many visitors and were wary of others, especially so near the Mother Tree.

“Human, what is your name?” One of the older looking tree elves took a step towards him. He was taller than most of them, almost up to Jimmy’s nose instead of his shoulders, and was wearing a gorgeous green cloak over a formal attire. For a short moment, Jimmy believed it must’ve been the king, but the lack of crown and the similar attire the other elves wore dismissed the thought.

“Jimmy, sir. James Solidarity.” A small ball of pride grew in his chest. He loved saying his name. Even five years after choosing it with the help of his friends, he still felt his heart soar everytime he said or heard it. It gave him peace to know that even if they were gone, something from them was still with him. The elves didn’t seem to notice this reaction though, faces remaining neutral.

“And what are you doing in our Mother’s holy lands?” The elf frowned slightly, glancing towards the tree and back at Jimmy. The blonde felt as though he was being judged, and hard . Like the older was staring into his soul and looking at the most intimate parts of himself, and judging him for it.

“Praying, sir. Asking for Her guidance. My father just passed away and I didn’t know what to do… he had told me about the story of Mother before and how She helped people when in need- I hoped She would help me too.” His statement seemed to calm the tree elf slightly, but it didn’t get rid of his frown. He started whispering with the seer in a tongue Jim did not speak, hushed voices that seemed upset, even slightly angry. Was he to be punished? Were they discussing his punishment?

“Are you absolutely sure it's him ?”

“Yes your honor, that is what She has decreed.”

She? What?

“Very well. Human? You must come with us.”

Jimmy panicked. This was it, he was going to jail. He did something and now he was being taken to jail for it. Three months, three months was all he managed to survive on his own. Ha, maybe he wasn’t meant for the big city life after all. He should’ve stayed in the ranch with the neighbors.

“What? Did I do something wrong? Like I said, I’m so sorry, I don’t know-”

“Silence. Just follow.”

“Okay…”

Jimmy walked behind the elf slowly, trying not to make eye contact with any of the civilians watching him from the sidelines. They stared at him with curiosity, distrust… maybe even hatred? Had he actually done something disrespectful enough to be hated by people he didn’t know? Did they know why he was being taken? None of them spoke to him as he walked, none waved back when he did.

The palace loomed over them as they neared, the bright orange and purple and green colors making his head ache. The light of the sun shined against the polished stones and hit him directly in the eyes, blinding him momentarily. Once the shadow of the trees and walls befell on them, Jimmy finally had a moment to stare at the grand door. If he were to be in trouble wouldn’t he be headed to jail? Was that a thing here? Or was he to have an audience with the king? Was the king going to judge him for his…. crime? Was it even a crime?

Jimmy was too caught up in his head when the elves stopped. He bumped into them with an oof, receiving a few glares. They seemed to be in a grand room, what the human assumed was the throne room, given the grand throne in the middle and the long table extending all along the center. However, the throne was empty. Jim stared at the empty seat with a neutral frown, eyes fixated on it.

“Why am I here?”

The tallest tree elf grimaced, looking at the throne longingly. He didn’t answer for a few moments, so Jimmy looked back to see if his question was heard. The elf stared at him with a thoughtful, disappointed face. It made Jimmy’s anxiety spike, his breathing catching in his throat.

“She chose you.”

“What?”

Jimmy felt the tension in the air when the elf spoke. The other’s didn’t look him in the eye, wearing similar disappointed frowns. Who chose him? Her? Mother? Chose him for what? The tree elf that spoke looked at him with disgust. Jimmy had never had anyone look at him that way. Nevertheless, the elder bowed. He bowed . What even was happening?

“You are to be Mezalea’s next king.”

“I’m sorry. What? ”

Chapter Text

When Jimmy was being taken to the palace he had expected to be taken to the cells. Maybe he was going to court, being trialed for his crimes; was about to speak to the king to get told off. He was not expecting to be told he was now a king. Which was stupid! A king? Puh-lease! Jimmy was not a king. He was sure they were pranking him —although this did look like a very elaborate prank for a kingdom that seemed and acted way too seriously—. But the longer he stared at the councilor’s frowning, stony faces, the harder it was to pretend they were pranking him.

“You think I’m your new king. Is that what you’re saying?” The young rancher laughed hysterically for a moment before he took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the growing pit of anxiety in his gut. He wasn't understanding what was happening, but it seemed his instincts were catching on to something he hadn't noticed quite yet.

“Mother has chosen you. We are simply acting in Her name.” The monotone voice of the nearest council member rubbed Jimmy the wrong way. He could tell he was already annoyed at him, and he hadn't even been there for long. The way he looked at him with disappointment in his eyes despite only meeting him a few hours ago was making his gut queasy and his skin crawl. He had never been judged this way before, not even by his father who was occasionally strict with chores around the farm. This was new to Jim, unfamiliar, and so stressful.

“Mother. The Mother tree. She chose me?”

“She did. I do not know why She would have chosen an outsider child as our leader, but She has never been wrong.” The way he called him an outsider child with such disgust made Jimmy want to curl up in shame. He felt insulted, should he feel insulted? He never knew Mezaleans were so cruel towards other species until today. 

“Until She says otherwise, we are to prepare you to rule.”

“Every time a king passes away,” a second councilor spoke up, “Whether it be in battle or from fading into old age, Mother chooses the next heir. We are to prepare him and aid him in his climb to the throne.” He seemed to be the youngest, in the way his face was less wrinkly and his hair appeared mostly a rich, vibrant green.

“You are to attend lessons every day for the next month, where you will be taught your duties, the history of our kingdom, and proper manners.” A third councilor spoke up, his voice rougher with use. He was the only one wearing glasses.

“And after a month, once we deem you ready, you shall rise to the throne with our guidance. Of course, due to your young age, you will not be able to enact the law on your own. I will act as regent until you're old enough to make proper choices.”

Jimmy blinked at the oldest councilor. He had been the one talking the most, the one in charge of explaining the most until now. And the one with the most controlled face, no emotions showing other than uttermost boredom and indifference. He was the one closest to Jimmy; and it seemed, by his clothing and mannerisms, that he was their leader. 

The rest of the conversation went by in a haze. They started explaining how he would have to get measurements taken for his new set of clothing, as well as the extensive meetings he’d have to have during the day. How were there so many meetings planned already if he just got here? He had to meet dukes and lords and councilors and captains and so many different people, he could barely remember their titles, much less their names.

His feet ached from walking across the stone halls all day, and he was only allowed to rest while they measured his body for the new suits. He had to lean down for them to be able to measure his head for a crown, and his knees ached as he knelt while they measured his upper body.

They finished measuring him everywhere after an eternity of standing stiffly, so they moved on to the next meeting; he met with a few priests and the seer that he had seen earlier. Hours passed by as he sat in a plush chair, vague and new rituals and rules being explained to him. He’d be taught more during his lessons, they said, but everything already seemed so complicated and confusing. 

Jimmy was hoping his tutor was nice and patient because his mind was barely grasping at everything that was being thrown at him. 

The door finally closed behind him, his tightlipped smile dropping. Finally, finally , he was alone. Jimmy took a second to breathe, his eyes focused on the door handle and his shaky hand. The whole day had been utterly exhausting. Meetings upon meetings with important-looking people, hours spent getting his measurements taken, an extensive tour of the palace… all after a morning of walking in the sun and then hours of questions and talking. He was exhausted; maybe that was the understatement of the century.

He turns around and slides down the door slowly, eyes roaming the room to distract himself from the sinking feeling of homesickness. There was a bed in the middle of the room, a sturdy stone frame holding the mattress up. It was big, like it could fit three people in it comfortably —two warm bodies curled up around him, the sun high above, grass tickling his skin—. A lot of the things around him were stone. There was barely any wood in sight, if any. Maybe it had to do with their goddess being a tree. There was a doorway to his right, and given the lack of any dressers in the room he assumed it must’ve been a walk-in closet. The walls were colorful, full of tapestries and paintings —rough farmer hands guiding his with a paintbrush, gentle strokes across a canvas—, elaborate works of art he knew must’ve been made here in Mezalea. Unlike the outside though, the colors weren’t overwhelming. Maybe it was the lack of sunlight and people, but now that he was inside and alone he could finally appreciate the colorful traditional Mezalean architecture. To the left of the bed was a tall, gorgeous bookshelf. It was full of books and decorated with pretty painted edges of flowers and vines.

He stood up after a few minutes, roaming around the room. On the shelves, there were mostly encyclopedias and history books. A few botany books were scattered at the top, as well as a book on Mezalean politics. He picked one up to look through. He quickly realized that some of the books were in the Mezalean elven dialect, which he could not read nor write. Not all of them were like that though, as he realized most of the botany books were in English. He grabbed one and read the title, Common Mezalean Flora. Interesting.

There was a single bay window on the far wall, the view mostly of houses and trees. Jimmy walked towards it, placing the book on the cushion and taking in the view outside of his new room. The gardens were just below him, a gentle breeze coming through the open window and bringing in the faint smell of azaleas and the ocean. The curtains gently moved with the breeze, tickling his leg. It reminded him slightly of home and the few azalea trees by the vegetable gardens.

Jimmy finally sat on the bed, his mind reeling. King? He was to be the king now? He wasn’t prepared to be a king. He wasn’t prepared to be royalty, to lead a group of people. It was strange, to think that the responsibility was being laid on his shoulders, shoved into his hands. Jimmy was not king material. He wasn’t a king. He hadn’t even gone to school! He was a farmer, that’s what he had come to do. He came to Mezalea hoping to earn a living as a farmer, make friends, and find a new group of people to live with. He came to Mezalea to ask Mother for help, to find faith, to maybe find an external force to blame his terrible luck on. Why did his luck only work when he didn’t want it to work? Why did his luck only work when it was inconvenient? Although maybe that could be considered bad luck instead if it was against everything Jimmy was. Maybe this was just his bad luck working mysteriously against him.

He sighed, lying down on the bed. Maybe the council would soon realize he was not a king. Maybe they would finally realize he was just a kid with no idea what was happening. They knew he was a kid, and they disliked him being human. Why couldn’t they just appoint someone with their approval? Why couldn’t they find an elven soldier or a priest or a councilor who was fit to be a king? Why him?

Would he have to spend his whole life here? Would he be allowed to roam the lands, be allowed to farm, and work in the fields? Would he be allowed to spend time by himself outside of his room? He knew there were two guards posted outside his bedroom doors, spears ready and stony expressions on their faces. Would they let him walk on his own? Or was he going to be trailed by two bodyguards forever? How long was forever? He was human, he didn’t live as long as the tree elves did. Did they expect him to live as long as them? Did they expect him to grow old and frail and keep ruling? It seemed so far away to him, he was only sixteen, and yet compared to the length of the elves’ lives it seemed so short. 

A growing sense of homesickness struck him suddenly. He was gonna be here for the rest of his life. The rest of his life. That was… that was so long. That was forever. He’d… he wasn’t seeing his home again… was he? He wasn’t going back to the ranch, to his hometown where familiar faces surrounded him everywhere. This probably also made it impossible for him to see Tango and Skizz again… ever. The small bud of hope of him finding them one day was crushed by an immense sense of dread.

Maybe… maybe they’ll let him visit. Right! Maybe they’ll let him visit his hometown. It wasn’t too far from here, maybe they’ll let him go there a few times. That… sounded reasonable right? Jimmy ignored the stinging wetness on his cheeks and the blurriness of the roof above him in favor of running his fingers across the fabric of the bed covers. It felt so different from his own back at home, and the thought just made his throat choke up with a sob. He missed his home. He knew he was leaving home but now that he’s trapped inside a foreign palace with seemingly no way out it hit him that he wasn’t going back. He missed home, he missed his bed, he missed the animals, he missed the barn house. He missed his dad. He missed his friends.

Jimmy turned on his side and curled up, hugging a pillow to his chest and finally letting himself cry for what he’d lost. 

A knock on his door and shuffling sounds woke Jimmy the next morning. He was still curled up on his bed, wearing the same clothes as the day before, his cheeks sticky with dried tears. He pushed himself up and opened his eyes, rubbing the crust out, to spot a maid pulling a suit out of the walk-in closet. He watched as she lay it on the divan next to the bookcase, looking at him with a bored face.

“Good morning, Your Highness. You’re expected for breakfast soon, I must bathe you and dress you appropriately. Please stand here to be undressed for your bath.”

Jimmy takes a second to process her words but stands up and steps where he was asked to, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He follows her as she folds the clothes and brings out bath supplies for a quick shower. He blushes when he realizes she is to help him with the bath and changing clothes, the act is too intimate and foreign. She continued with whatever she was doing without even looking at him until she finally finished setting everything up. 

“Lift your hands, please?”

He sleepily followed her instructions and lifted his arms, being relatively comfortable with taking off his shirt in front of her. However, a shocked gasp coming from her brought him back to the present. He thought maybe it was his freckles, maybe she hadn’t seen freckles before? She hurriedly left the room, leaving him shirtless and wondering why she was so surprised. Maybe she thought his top surgery scars were from an accident? He’d been asked that before, maybe that was it. Maybe she just wanted a medic to check his scars, even if they were neat and very old. Minutes passed, and he decided to sit down on the bed to wait. 

The door was slammed open again by a very angry head councilor —Lord Marshe if his mind remembered correctly— followed by the maid and a couple of the other councilors. Jimmy’s heart sank. Maybe this was more serious than he originally thought. The elf’s disappointed glare flickered towards his chest and deepened. Okay, maybe it was the scars. Were… were the elves not okay with scars? Maybe he had offended them by showing up with scarred skin. Jimmy pretended not to know the most probable real reason for their anger. He wanted to believe they weren’t like that.

“A girl. You hid this from us?! You aren’t a man, you’re a woman! A girl!”

Jimmy felt his cheeks heat up with shame as their words finally dawned on him. They didn’t like that he was trans at all. That- That wasn’t good for him at all. His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything in the faces of the lords, but all he could see was an unhidden hatred and disappointment in their faces. The maid handed him a blanket to cover himself, a neutral frown on her face. 

“You lied . You lied, you let us believe you were a young man. I cannot believe this, for Mother’s sake. Why- What was She thinking? Sending us a human child- that was questionable, but we tolerated it. But a woman? A woman is not fit to be king at all!”

A lot of things suddenly started to make sense to Jimmy. The lack of women in positions of power, the lack of young people in positions of power. The clear, obvious division between the men and women of Mezalea. This was bad, this was very bad for him. The maid hurriedly grabbed the clothes laid out in the chair and left the room quickly after being instructed by one of the other council members, Lord Nixe. A rough hand grabbing his arm brought Jimmy’s attention back to Lord Marshe. 

“You cannot be king like this. The people will know, we cannot put a woman in place of a king!”

“What if we give her the princess title, lord?” The youngest councilor spoke up, Lord Vallum. His sneer was clear in his voice as he called him princess. The word made his stomach churn with a feeling of wrongness and shame. That wasn’t him, he wasn’t a princess. He wasn’t a king either, but at least the title just felt unfitting, not like a metaphorical punch to the gut. Jimmy opened his mouth to protest but was shut up quickly by the stone-cold glare from Lord Marshe.

“Princess. You shall be crowned princess at this month’s end. End of discussion. Lord Vallum, make sure the maid brings an appropriate dress for the princess.”

And with that, Lord Marshe and Lord Nixe walked out of the room, leaving him alone with Lord Vallum. Jimmy sat back down on the bed, avoiding meeting the lord’s heated glare. When he did, the other sneered at him, hatred clear in his face.

“I knew we should’ve made sure you weren’t some bold-faced liar. Just because Mother chose you it doesn’t exempt you from sin. What would She say if She saw how you mutilated your body for what- attention? Is that it? Or were you trying to lie your way towards a position of power? Is it that you’re greedy? Know your place, princess. Your title doesn’t give you power here. It’s just that, a title. A fake title for a fake king.”

Jimmy curls up into himself as the maid walks back in, carrying a beautiful purple gown in her arms. How they managed to find a dress on such short notice was outstanding. It seemed like it was his size, but he was never really good at figuring that out with just his eyes. Lord Vallum looked at the maid and nodded, leaving the room. Jimmy knew the lord was just outside the room though, the threatening presence was never truly gone. The maid gave him a half-apologetic look, although she didn’t seem sorry at all as she finished undressing him and brought out a corset. It was a simple one, but once it was on, he realized he could barely breathe properly with it. It was tight , squeezing his ribs and making him wonder if he was being crushed by a constrictor snake instead of a corset. 

In just a few moments Jimmy was in a dress… something he hadn’t worn in years. Years of being comfortable and wearing pants and work shirts appeared to be distant now, the gown feeling too heavy compared to what the fabric weighed. The way it hung off his hips and accentuated his chest and waist made him feel sick, his mind reeling with anxiety and dysphoria. After that, he was guided into new shoes, his old boots being replaced with heels. He distantly heard the maid ask him something, but he barely paid attention as he focused on how he felt nothing like himself. It was like he wasn’t in his own body, like suddenly he was ten again and standing in the mirror trying to understand why the cute pink dress he was gifted for his birthday felt so wrong . 

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, the handmaid giving him just a couple of seconds before she opened the door and let Lord Vallum back inside. He looked Jimmy up and down and nodded approvingly, although he still looked displeased with the young human. Jimmy grimaced and just remained quiet, head down and eyes focused on the floor.

“Solidarity, was it?”

Jimmy lifted his head to look at the lord and nodded hesitantly. This felt like a trick question, and yet Jimmy felt obliged to reply. His chest tightened up as he replied quietly, eyes darting around the other’s face to scan for any tricks or anger.

“James Solidarity, lord.”

The elf’s frown deepened and Jimmy knew he fucked up. Suddenly the feeling of anxiety from a few moments earlier felt like nothing compared to the heavy dread that started to settle in his chest. It felt like the string of a bow was being pulled, and soon the arrow was to be shooting straight towards him. The air was thick with tension, the pause long, making Jimmy’s chest just tighten further.

“What’s your real name, princess?”

There it was. They wanted his dead name, they wanted to call him by a name that didn’t belong to him. Unluckily for the lords, he was stubborn. As much as he dreaded the hatred in their eyes, the idea of even just muttering that name had him near tears.

“James, sir.”

“That’s not it, what’s your real name? Do not lie to me, princess.”

“It’s James sir, I don’t have any other names.”

“Listen to me, human.” Jimmy blinked and suddenly his arm was being gripped tightly by the lord. He let out a scared yelp, taking a shaky step back and almost twisting his ankle with the heels. “I know you are stupid, but you aren’t this stupid. What is your real name?”

Jimmy remained quiet. If he wouldn’t accept that Jimmy was his real name then he wouldn’t talk at all. They wouldn’t hurt him. (Right?) Lord Vallum straightened his back and let go of Jimmy’s arm, wiping his hand on his lapel.

“Fine. If you do not wish to disclose your real name then we shall name you ourselves. From now on you shall be known as Princess Jamie of Mezalea.” He took a step back and grabbed the door handle, opening the door and taking a step outside. “Everyone is to refer to you as such. If anybody hears you introduce yourself as something other than your proper title then there will be consequences.”

With that, he closed the door, and finally, Jimmy was left alone again. The tightness in his chest finally bubbled up to his throat with a sob, tears stinging his eyes. He sat down on the bed, hugging his arms around himself as he tracked the tears falling into his lap through blurry vision. He felt disgusting, his skin buzzing where the dress touched him and stinging where the elf grabbed him. This was his life now. He was now a princess. Princess Jamie. He wasn’t Jimmy anymore.

A gentle knock interrupted his sobs, the maid walking in to inform him that he was expected at the dining table for breakfast. With a shaky breath, he wiped his eyes and stood up from the bed shakily, doing his best to balance himself on the heels. He didn’t recognize himself anymore and it had just been a day. He walked out of that room a whole new person from who he was when he walked in.