Work Text:
Christine smoothed down the fabric of her apron once she’d finally managed to tie the laces behind her back. It had taken her several attempts with how badly her hands were shaking, but once the task was done, she allowed herself a moment to lean against her dresser and breathe. She knew that she couldn’t hide away in the servants’ quarters forever, she needed to pull herself together.
Unfortunately, before she was able to do so, she heard footsteps echoing down the hallway, and she turned around to see her best friend enter the room.
“Christine, there you are! Mother told me you were starting today and that I get the pleasure of showing you around,” Meg said with a smile and open arms, which she quickly wrapped around her friend. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you since the funeral a couple weeks ago.”
“I’ve been fine enough, I suppose,” Christine replied, managing a small smile. “I’m so thankful your mother managed to secure me a position here. I would have never thought I would one day work in king’s home, but here I am.”
“Yes, here you are. We get to clean up after the king and queen dowager, it’s every little girl’s dream,” Meg replied with a bit of a laugh, taking her friend’s hands. “Come with me, I’ll show you around. Mother is allowing me to walk you through all of our duties while I show you around, so we best begin.”
Christine nodded and followed her friend out of the kitchen and up stone steps that led to a hefty wooden door. This gave way to what appeared to be the castle’s front hallway, and she couldn’t help marveling at the grand architecture of the building. “It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered.
“It is, isn’t it? It’s rumored that King Erik’s great-great-grandfather drew up the plans for the building himself, though there’s little evidence to substantiate the claim,” Meg said softly as she led her friend father through the castle. She began to explain all of their duties one by one, stopping to offer more detail whenever her friend had questions.
By the end of the walkthrough, Christine felt rather overwhelmed and more than a little confused. She knew that King Erik preferred to keep to himself, but some of the things her friend had told her seemed absurd. How she was meant to remember all of his very specific procedures was entirely beyond her.
She was told that the king never interacted with any servants directly except for Meg’s mother, Madame Adele Giry, who was the head of the maids. No servant was allowed to so much as enter a room if the king was there, and this even extended to meals.
For every meal, the food was prepared and served in the dining room. Then, every footman was to retreat from the room completely and lock the servants’ door before the king and queen dowager would enter the room to dine. Servants were not even permitted to enter to serve each course and clear plates, as was customary in the royal households of the other kingdoms.
Christine thought all of this very odd indeed, even though she was not of the kitchen staff and would not be tending to this duty. But who was she to question the king’s way of doing things? She was a nobody, an orphan. Without her new position as a maid, she didn’t have many other options for employment, and she would be a fool to risk her only source of income by questioning the king.
For the time, she supposed, she must simply endeavor to remember how he liked things run in his home and keep her opinions to herself. Meg had sternly—and quietly—warned her that she would not want for the queen dowager, Madeleine, to overhear any opinions she might have, as her temper was apparently unmatched, and speaking against her son would not be tolerated. Christine did not want to be on the receiving end of such an interaction.
* * *
Many days later…
Christine had slowly been settling into her duties around the castle. She was always sure to be certain that the king was not in any of the rooms she was about to clean, and she had blessedly avoided coming face-to-face with the dowager.
Madame Giry and Meg were both very helpful whenever Christine required assistance, and altogether, she found that working in the king’s castle was nowhere near the poor experience she had expected it would be.
She smiled slightly at the thought as she left out the servants’ door and started out down a cobblestone path that trailed all through the royal gardens. She had developed the habit of going for early afternoon walks every day in order to get some fresh air, and no one had ever stopped her from doing so.
This was time to herself that she so rarely got anymore, seeing as how she and Meg shared a bedroom in the servants’ quarters, and therefore did not even get the pleasure of having a room to herself to sleep in at night. But out here? Out here, she could walk and hum and be free from the worries that she was doing something wrong or that the queen dowager was lurking around every corner.
Rather, she could close her eyes and let the sun caress her face, imagining if for a moment that her father was still alive and that they were on a walk through the fields together, just as they often did before he passed away. She could picture him walking beside her, that same warm smile on his face that he always had when he looked at her. How she missed seeing that expression.
Christine was broken from her reverie when she approached the royal stables and heard the sound of footsteps inside, as well as a hushed conversation. As she drew closer, she came to realize that this conversation was, in fact, one-sided, and the voice was not one she recognized.
Quietly, she crept up to the door, which had been left wide open, and peered inside, only for her eyes to widen when she saw King Erik stroking a white horse’s neck. His caress was gentle, loving, and his expression was pleasant. And gods help her, he was even more gorgeous than his portraits. She could hardly look away.
“I know you didn’t want our ride to end so soon, I’m sorry,” the king said to his steed, still petting the animal. “I will make up for it tomorrow, but as for now, Mother will have my head if I’m not back soon.”
Christine smiled at his soft tone. It was plain that he loved the animal and that he was a kind soul. Why on earth did the servants speak of him as if he was so easily angered? She could hardly picture this man being mildly annoyed, let alone truly angry.
Despite this, however, she still hid when he glanced her way. She waited for a few heartbeats before peeking into the stables again, smiling when she just happened to catch the horse whinnying back at its master. The smile that it brought to the king’s face, however, was even wider.
In this setting, he seemed less like a fearsome king and more like the boy he was, for he was clearly only a few years older than Christine. He seemed kind and carefree, not as if he had the fate of an entire kingdom resting on his shoulders. If Christine didn’t know better, she would approach him, strike up a conversation, get to know the young gentleman.
How desperately she wished she could speak with him. He seemed like someone she could grow quite fond of, if given the opportunity to get to know him. The thought of just walking up to him, though, would have to remain only in her fantasies, as much as this disappointed her. Instead, she settled for continuing to study his face.
His hair was dark black in color and looked as though it were once slicked back but was now windswept from his ride. His eyes were the most brilliant color blue she’d ever seen in her life. The king’s jawline and cheekbones seemed as though they had been sculpted out of marble, and his face was perfectly symmetrical. Almost too symmetrical, Christine thought, almost as if it were a façade, a trick of the eye.
Before she could further ponder this, he turned to leave the stables, and she ducked away from the doorway to hide herself in the nearby bushes. It was not a moment too soon, as the king exited the stable mere seconds later. As if a switch had been flipped, his posture was rigid, his strides long and certain. He was every bit the king he was born to be.
Christine watched him as he left, wondering, wishing, hoping, that she would have the opportunity to cast her eyes upon this man again. Would she ever have the pleasure?