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Spit Bucket seemed livelier than usual the morning (Name) headed to work as an apprentice carpenter. They stood outside the workshop, watching as the sheriff spit out orders to his deputies and those around them. The florists on the other side of the road were setting out bouquets of whatever they had left after the summer ended, the street vendors were cleaning up their stands, herders rushed the passing sheep off the road.
“Stop wasting your time, (Name), come on, we have work to do,” the head carpenter stepped out the door to call their attention. (Name) looked away from the unusual scene at the town center as they headed inside.
The apprentice carpenter put on their apron, keeping their attention on the table but deciding to ask, “What’s with all the hubbub outside? The president passing through or somethin’?”
“Or something,” mutters the old man, “Word ‘round the street is that some fancy, foreign royalty or somethin’ is coming to our town. Kissing babies, donating money, whatever else it is they do.”
(Name)’s curiosity was hooked, “Foreign royalty? Like a princess or something? In Spit Bucket of all places?”
“I don’t know, kid. Shut yer yap and finish up that shelf and then head over to the schoolhouse, teach’ said some chairs got missing nails.”
___
Box of nails and hammer in hand, the loyal apprentice headed out, down the main road towards the schoolhouse that resided near the end of town. They kept looking off to the sides, banners hung from lamppost to lamppost- at least in the central part of town, flowers adorned some windows, the Stars and Stripes were also seen everywhere.
While distracted, they bumped into someone, the box of nails fell out of their hand and opened onto the ground.
“Ah, sorry,” (Name) knelt down and began picking the nails back into the wooden box.
The stranger had also knelt down and began helping them, rather quickly, “No, no. I offer my apologies, truly.”
The foreign accent they held did not go unnoticed by the carpenter, but Spit Bucket had quite a few people who came from abroad, it was not much to point out. What they did find odd was the secretive get up, a tattered cloak. (Name) couldn’t help but take a glance up at the man who helped them place the nails back into the box. Soft blue eyes, freckles, and a surprisingly formidable chin.
“Thank you,” said (Name), not noticing it came out as a whisper.
“Again, no worries. I was not paying attention to the road. Do tell, kind citizen, where one might be able to acquire some baked sweets?”
(Name) stood up with the help of the man, they looked at him and then back down the road, replying, “Two buildings down, bakery has a painted yellow door, big window, you can’t miss it, sir.”
The secretive man looked down the road towards the building (Name) was pointing at, he smiled and shook their hands, “I see, I appreciate the help, dear. I best be on my way then, farewell.”
“See ya,” (Name) replied after the man had hurried away. Making sure there were no nails left on the road, hammer in tow, they continued on their way.
___
“Thank you, (Name), you are of great assistance,” the schoolteacher shook the carpenter’s hand after they finished fixing up some chairs.
“No problem, Miss Wilkinson,” (Name) offered a smile, getting ready to head back to the workshop but decided to hang back for a bit, “Do you mind if I ask you somethin’?”
The teacher stood by the window, looking out at the children who played outside, “Not at all, something I can assist you with?”
(Name) stood beside the woman as they told her about the previous interaction they had on the way to the schoolhouse. Miss Wilkinson listened patiently, smiling at the end, “So what, I don’t understand why tell me this? Become hooked on this stranger, have you?”
The British woman laughed after seeing the reaction she got out of the one beside her, (Name) huffed and said, “I wanted to ask if the description matches the supposed foreign royalty that supposedly arrived in Spit Bucket. His accent was … similar to yours, I thought I’d ask.”
“You think I sound like the royals?” Miss Wilkinson’s eyes blinked wide open before she chuckled, “Imagine me like them, when I see a flying pig…But yes, you may be right. Especially the chin part, sounds like the younger prince. I don’t think they would risk sending the heir all the way here.”
Miss Wilkinson smiled and stepped away from the window, towards the door, (Name) followed behind. The teacher rang the bell outside, calling for the children to head back inside.
The carpenter stood in thought before perking up, “So you’re telling me I ran into a prince? Me?”
“Sounds like a folk tale, aye?”
___
More hours were spent at the workshop, (Name) worked on a shelf for their own place and some new stools for the saloon. The head carpenter always left them to lock up at night, only the quiet sound of the broom was heard as (Name) cleaned up. That was until a knock was at the door.
It was not too unusual to receive a patron after dark, but it was still unsettling for the individual.
“...We aren’t taking orders right now, come back tomorrow,” the carpenter called out as they slowly approached the door.
A familiar voice from earlier that day spoke back, “No worries, I just need to speak with someone. It will not be long.”
(Name) shifted the inner lock and opened the door to be met with the hooded stranger from earlier. The man looked at them and smiled, “Ah, it is you. I was told I would find you here.”
“Me?”
They were confused by his presence at the shop, but let him walk inside anyway.
“Yes, you, dear. I had to sneak my way around this town all day, hiding in the saloon for a bit- filthy place really. Nonetheless, I found you again. I came to offer my apologies again, but with an offering. Consider it a way to express my gratitude as well.”
The man removed his hood, his ginger hair slightly ruffled from it before he patted it back into place. Gloved hands lifted up a neatly wrapped package with a bow, holding it out to the one who stood confused before him.
“Uh- sir, your majesty-,” (Name) started before being interrupted.
“Please, ‘Majesty’ is my mother dear. The correct title for me would be ‘Royal high-’,” the freckled man stopped himself and looked at (Name), “you’ve recognized me? Pray tell, did you know when we met before?”
After a slight head shake, (Name) replied, “No, but…I can confirm it now. It was not really…that far-fetched of a guess. But you tell me, ‘your Royal Highness’, why were you lookin’ for me?”
The prince looked at them and smiled, “Why was I looking for you? Heh, my dear, how could I not? I couldn’t simply not seek you out in order to offer my most sincere gratitude. For if you hadn’t pointed me in the direction of that bakery, I would have never discovered the most delectable dessert.”
(Name) took the wrapped package and undid the bow, lifting the top off to reveal a pie. (Colour)-eyes moved back to the man who was happily standing a few steps away.
“You bring me a pecan pie?”
“Pecan pie,” the royal repeated the words, “the name of my new favourite dish. I believe I won’t truly ever have enough. I begged for the recipe, but the baker would not give it, something about ‘not having it written down’. To each their own, I suppose. But it was all thanks to you that I had a taste to begin with. So, I thank you…”
His Royal Highness turned a bit red in the cheeks and ears as he realized something, “How very rude of me. All this chatter and I never even so much as asked for your name or introduced myself properly. I am Prince Matthew Stuart Montgomery Lavington of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.”
“...and I am (Name), your princeliness,” the carpenter smiled.
The prince repeated their words once again, “(Name), a delightful name. Mayhaps more delightful than this pie. Pecan, you said? Marvelous stuff.”
“Yes, it is common ‘round here. You really didn’t have to, but I shouldn’t reject an offering from a prince now should I?” (Name) joked.
“A clever one you are,” Prince Matthew chuckled.
A comfortable silence filled the workshop before the royal cleared his throat, “Well, I did what I came to do. It would be rude of me to stay any longer. Do not want to start a panic for my advisor when he realizes I’ve snuck out again.”
“Uh, yeah. Good idea,” (Name) follows him to the door, watching as he places the hood back over his head. He turns to face them after stepping out the door.
“It has been wonderful speaking with you, M. (Name). Thank you again.”
Raising a brow, the carpenter speaks, “I really didn’t do much, or well…anything. But if you’re happy then, all is well. See you around.”
“You are planning to meet again?” the Prince tilts his head and smiles.
(Name) chuckles slightly, “...it’s a small town, you never know who you’re gonna run into.”