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When Gaby thought back to her childhood, it was full of warm memories. Warm, bright fields of flowers to pick through with her mother, stories to be told, and songs to be sung. She wanted for nothing, surrounded by the love of her parents.
Even after the loss of her mother, her father did all he could to raise her as they always had. Udo had been a kind soul, always wanting what was best for her. She would trust him to make the best decisions that he could. That trust stuck with her even as he remarried to a woman who had lost her own spouse, bringing her own two daughters to join their family.
Lady Victoria may have once been kind, but loss had changed her. Her affections were only for her daughters, spoiling and praising them, with never a kind word left for Gaby. Gaby wasn’t blind or stupid, she knew that these strangers in their home would never be family to her. But she never voiced those thoughts to her father, only wanting his happiness as he wanted hers. And she could have lived with that, as long as he would return from his trips to her as he had always done.
But then came the trip he didn’t return from. Illness, she was told. One he couldn’t overcome.
And she was left alone.
‘Madam’ wasted no time after the loss of her second husband. She no longer held the pretense of Gaby being family, and she was relegated to maintaining the household and the lands, all the animals, and all the chores. But she found most times that she didn’t mind this. It kept her busy, unable to linger on her grief, and it meant that she could avoid her step-sisters, for they would never be found tending a garden or preparing a meal.
Now Gaby’s joy was found in the barn, tending to her horses. She could spend hours combing their manes to sleek perfection, brushing the dust from their coats, and tending to their hooves. They were the only companions she needed, and she would always find her way to them when she needed an escape.
“At least it is quiet out here,” she sighed as she entered the barn, pushing the door open with her hips as she carried in buckets of grain to refill their food. “You two don’t realize how good you have it.” She refilled their feed before stopping to pet one of them, a dappled grey that nudged his face into her hand as she stroked his nose. “How about we go for a run, hmm?” she left the buckets near the barn door and unlatched the stall. “Come on liebling ,” she didn’t bother to get a harness or saddle, only using a nearby crate to boost herself up onto the horse’s back. She gripped a few strands of his hair and clicked her tongue, and they were off.
This was truly when Gaby was most at peace in her world now. The trees blurring past her, the sound of his hooves in the dirt, and the wind on her cheeks, drying any stray tears that might have escaped. She could just get lost in the thrill of it all.
So lost, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the large buck until her horse was rearing back to avoid it, all three of them startling as legs reared as her horse whinnied. “whoa,” Gaby quickly soothed him with a pat to his side as she looked at the buck, his hooves shuffling as he snorted and tossed his head. “It’s alright,” Gaby turned her attentions to the deer, studying him as they looked at each other. The nearby sounds of a hunting party, horns blaring, turned her head and caused her heart to clench as she thought of him being caught. Before she had a chance to do more, a dog came bursting out of a clump of bushes, startling all of them. The buck took off in one direction, and her horse in another.
“Slow down!” Gaby tried to soothe her horse, unable to do much more than simply hold on with all her strength as he charged through the forest. “Whoa!”
She couldn’t even keep track of where the horse was running to or what was passing them by. She became aware they weren’t alone when she saw another horse and rider pull up alongside them, the rider reaching out to help calm her horse until they started to slow before finally coming to a stop.
“Are you alright?” the other rider asked, his eyebrows raised and his voice light in concern.
“I had it handled,” Gaby answered as she readjusted her seating on the horse, gently patting his neck. “But thank you. He was startled by your hounds,” she added, fixing him with a raised eyebrow.
“My apologies,” he let go of his grip on her horse now that they had settled, relaxing into his saddle. “These hunts can be rather...”
“Loud? Barbaric?” Gaby suggested, and he laughed, seeming genuinely surprised at her answers.
“Both are true,” he agreed, “But, it’s just what’s done isn’t it?”
“That can be an excuse for all kinds of terrible things,” Gaby scoffed, “That doesn’t mean that it should continue.” she looked him over, taking in his nice clothes and, more importantly, his extremely nice horse. “You’re from the palace? Do you work there?”
Again, a look of pleasant surprise crossed his face. “I do. I’m an... apprentice,” he answered, “And you?” he took in her overalls, and the scrap of cloth tied to keep her hair off her face, “Do you live nearby?”
“I do,” Gaby answered with a nod, “With my--” she paused. Did it matter what they were to her? They certainly weren’t her family. “Yes, nearby.” she decided not to elaborate, but she felt as if his eyes, such a bright blue, could see right through her. “It must be amazing, being an apprentice at the palace.”
Before he could answer, the sounds of another horse reached them, and they both turned to see a blond man on what had to be the largest horse Gaby had ever seen approaching them. “Your h--” he started, but the first man interrupted him.
“Ah! Illya!” he greeted quickly, “We should be going, shouldn’t we?” he turned back to Gaby, who could have laughed at how disgruntled the blond looked at being interrupted. “I hope to see you again,” he said to her, and she knew he meant it.
“I hope so,” she agreed, watching as the two men guided their horses away to rejoin their party.
-----
Napoleon was quiet for the rest of the hunt, which ended in failure as the buck evaded them. He couldn’t help but feel pleased by the result, knowing the mystery girl would have liked to know that it went free. She wouldn’t get out of his head, and he was kicking himself for not even getting so much as her name . He never stumbled like that, but never had he so immediately and intensely felt a connection to a girl like he had during that brief encounter.
“You’re staring,” he remarked to Illya, his guard captain, as they passed the reins of their horses over to the stable hands. “Intensely, I might add.”
“Who was that girl?” Illya asked as they fell into step as they left the stables.
“I don’t know,” Napoleon admitted, “But she seemed... wonderful.” He shook his head in disbelief at himself.
They had no more time to discuss it as the Grand Duke, assistant to Napoleon’s father the king, approached them.
“Your highness,” Sanders greeted in his usual down to business tone. “The king requests you, in his chambers.”
Napoleon nodded, only stopping by his quarters to change out of his horse smelling clothes before he made his way to his father’s rooms. The doctor was there already conducting his examination, but Napoleon’s father still greeted him with a smile. “Ah, there you are,” he greeted Napoleon, “I hear your hunt was unsuccessful.”
“Well I wouldn’t say that,” Napoleon replied smoothly as he leaned against a nearby chest, “The kill isn’t the only thing to make it successful.”
The king laughed, kind-hearted. “So it’s true, I’d heard from one of the men that you were chatting up a common girl. You always have had a way with the girls.” The doctor pulled away to start collecting his equipment, and the king turned his attention to him. “Well?”
“Your majesty...” the doctor was hesitant, and the king sighed and waved him off.
“No good news takes that long to share,” he dismissed the doctor, and Napoleon moved to sit on the couch next to his father. The king turned to him. “You know I’ve allowed you your freedom, I’ve never minded who held your attentions. But now you have to think of the kingdom. Sanders has already been planning it, and it’s time too announce the ball where you will choose your future bride, and our kingdom’s future queen.”
Napoleon frowned as his father spoke. It’s true his father had let him make his own choices until now, but no girl had ever truly caught his attention in the way that the girl from the forest had today. They had all been passing flirts, fun in the moment but nothing lasting, no desire to search for anything more. And a day ago he might not have felt so strongly against marrying someone after meeting them once— marrying someone for purpose would not make his entire life miserable. He would still have his hobbies, he would have Illya. But now the thought made his stomach turn.
“Just like that?” Napoleon began his protest, “You’ve talked for my entire life of how much you loved my mother when you met her, but now it’s as simple as that for me? Have a ball, marry a princess?” he raised an eyebrow. “What if none of them are for me what mother was for you?”
“Napoleon,” his father sighed and gripped his shoulder. “I wish I could give you the time to find someone to be that for you. But we don’t have it. You will be king soon, and you will need a queen, and an heir. For the good of the kingdom.”
Napoleon knew he was right. This was what he was being prepared for his entire life. He frowned, but looked at his father, studying how much smaller he had begun to life, his cheeks sunken and skin pale, and he finally nodded. “On one condition,” he agreed, needing at least one small speck of hope. “This ball.... I want it open to everyone in the kingdom, not just for the royalty being invited.” It wasn’t subtle, he knew that, and he could tell his father knew what he intended by the sparkle in his eye.
“We’ll have an announcement made tomorrow,” his father agreed.
Napoleon nodded and turned to leave, Illya falling into step with him as they left the chambers.
“That was not so subtle, Cowboy,” Illya commented, though Napoleon could hear the amusement in his tone. The nickname brought a smile to his face, a nod to his heritage on his mother’s side.
“Well, sometimes a straightforward approach is called for, wouldn’t you agree Peril?”
-----
The announcement was put out by the crier the next day in the town square, and Gaby managed to hear it while running errands for the house. Excitement filled her, not at the prospect of meeting the prince, but at getting to visit the palace and find the man from the woods again. He hadn’t left her thoughts since their encounter, the connection tugging at her and making her want more. She ran home, forgetting, for a few moments, how even good news could be received by the madam.
Gaby burst through the front door, finding her step-mother and sisters in the front sitting room. “There’s to be a ball!” Gaby announced breathlessly, “At the palace, in two weeks. And the prince has invited every maiden in the realm.”
The announcement was met with stunned silence before her two step-sisters started squealing in excitement, their voices overlapping as their competition to win the heart of the prince began. Her step-mother stood, letting them cheer before she went into action.
“We’ll need you to run back to town,” Lady Victoria commanded as she quickly got instructions together, “My daughters and I will need gowns, and you must get our order in before the seamstress becomes too busy. They will need the finest we can get if one of them is to become the bride of the prince.”
Gaby finally caught her breath but couldn’t speak for a moment as she considered the words. “What about me?” she finally asked, and Victoria turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. “The invitation is for everyone.”
“You?” Victoria laughed, short and cruel, and Gaby’s step-sisters giggled to each other as they looked at her. “You’re just a kitchen girl. What would the prince see in you? No,” she shook her head and waved Gaby off. “There are no extra funds to waste on a gown for you. Now get to the shop, and place our orders.”
Gaby stared in disbelief before the laughing of them drove her from the room. She obeyed, making her way back to town, if only for a reason to be away from the house and any reminders of them for a few moments. She took her time returning, walking slowly down the wooded road before her pace increased. There was no good in hoping—she would prepare for the ball on her own.
Not even a glance was spared for them as she made her way back home and up to the attic where she lived, and she set to work, pulling an old dress of her mother’s from a forgotten box. It would never live up to the finery that any of the ladies hoping to catch the prince’s eye would wear, even with her alterations that she set to work on, but all she wanted was one more chance to see him again and recapture that feeling. It took Gaby the entire two weeks to alter her mother’s dress, taking in the waist and embellishing the skirt. She worked on it in every scrap of free time she could find, staying up late into the night to have a chance to finish. But finally, it was done, and she smiled at herself in the mirror as she smoothed down the skirt, chest tight with hope as she made her way downstairs when she knew her step-family were preparing to leave.
The three of them were in the entryway, shiny and glamorous, as they waited for the coach, but they all fell silent as Gaby made her way down the stairs. “What,” Victoria spoke coldly, “Do you think you’re doing?”
“The dress cost you nothing,” Gaby explained as she reached ground level, “It was my mother’s, I altered it in my own time. I simply wish to go to the ball. I don’t even want to meet the prince.”
Victoria approached her, her daughters close behind. “You think that this is enough to warrant you a pass to join us ?” she laughed, “It’s falling apart!” as she spoke she reached for Gaby’s sleeve, as if to feel the fabric, and with a cruel yank she ripped it from the bodice. “You would simply embarrass us! I won’t have you risk my daughters chances.”
Gaby gasped as her sleeve was ripped, her face flushing in anger. “You have no right to do this!” she glared at her step-mother. “I have as much a right to attend as they do!” The slap caught her by surprise, and she covered her cheek as she stepped back.
“You will stay here!” Victoria hissed, gripping Gaby’s arm tight as she leaned in, “And you will be hard at work when we return, if you know what’s best for you.” The carriage pulled up and Victoria roughly released her and turned to usher her daughters out and into the carriage without sparing a glance for Gaby, who was left in the doorway as the carriage pulled away.
She stepped out into the yard as the carriage left the gates, angry tears covering her cheeks as she sank to the ground, unable to stand anymore. Her last chance of seeing him again, of experiencing a night at the ball, stripped away as simply as that. She stood and kicked a nearby bucket, sending into crashing into the wall of the house and cracking in two. That felt good, and she looked around for something else to break when a voice startled her.
“Excuse me miss,” the voice said, and Gaby jumped as she turned to see a beggar man, his clothes patchy and ragged, standing at the gate, “Could I trouble you for some water?”
“Of course,” Gaby quickly composed herself as he stepped into the yard, and she went to the well to draw some water into a small bowl for him. “Here you are sir.”
He nodded his thanks as he took it. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the ball? It’s all anyone can talk about,” he asked as he sipped at the water.
“I’ve been told I’m not allowed,” she pursed her lips as the anger filled her again, and she brushed some dirt from her dress.
“Well that simply won’t do,” the man frowned and set the bowl down. “There’s still time, we’ll just have to work quickly.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “And what do you think you can do about it? My step-mother has forbade me, I have no carriage, and no gown.”
“Well simple, really,” he answered, “I’m your fairy godfather.”
Gaby almost laughed. This man in rags? A fairy? “I thought it was god mother ?”
“Not all fairies are women,” he cleared his throat and stepped back. “One moment.”
A snap of his hands later and Gaby blinked at the brightness. When her eyes adjusted his rags were gone, replaced with an elegant suit that seemed to emit light of its own, and he tugged the sleeves down over his wrists. “Now then,” he smiled kindly, “As I was saying, I’m your fairy godfather. But you can call me Waverly, much simpler.”
Her mouth was agape as she looked at Waverly. “So.... you’re really my fairy godfather?”
“Quite right,” he nodded and set about studying the yard, “Now then, first things first. You’ll need a carriage, otherwise you’ll never make it on time.”
What followed was one of the most baffling sequence of events in Gaby’s life. A pumpkin turned into a gleaming carriage, field mice transformed into the sleekest of steeds, and her favorite goose for a driver. “In you go,” Waverly declared as he brushed his hands together as if brushing dust from them.
“My dress,” Gaby shook her head, “It’s ripped. Could you repair it?”
Waverly studied it with a critical eye. “How about a few improvements?” When Gaby nodded her agreement he snapped, and the same light Waverly emitted earlier came from her, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the brightness. The dress grew softer, but heavier, and she felt the fabric ripple with every small movement she made. When she opened her eyes she stared in amazement at it, shifting her torso to made the skirt flow with her body. The blue was a perfect match for the apprentice’s eyes, a small part of her noticed. “And now for the shoes,” he pointed down, and Gaby lifted her dress to reveal the grimy flats she was currently wearing. One more snap and her heels were lifting as the shoes changed into gleaming glass, every color of the rainbow shining through them as she moved to see them.
“I think that’ll settle it,” Waverly declared. “Now, off to the ball with you!” Gaby was still in shock, but she laughed in amazement as he helped her into the carriage. “Just be gone before midnight—the magic will only last until then,” he cautioned her. “And your horrid family won’t recognize you, I’ll make sure of that,” he tapped her chin.
“Thank you!” Gaby leaned out the window to call back to him as the carriage pulled away, and he tucked his hands in his pockets as he watched her go. She settled into the seat, excitement coursing through her at this chance.
-----
The day of the ball dawned, and Napoleon felt nothing but hope. Something in him just knew that the girl from the forest would show. Even if his father and the Grand Duke had other plans, she was all he could think of. He was just finishing his hair, smoothing it back with a comb, when Illya entered his rooms with a knock, dressed in the guard’s dress uniform.
“It is about to begin,” he told Napoleon, “You are needed.”
“Coming, coming,” Napoleon wiped his hands clean, and Illya grabbed his jacket to help him into it to avoid wrinkles.
“You would not be late if you spent less time on your hair,” Illya commented.
“Some of us care to put some effort into our appearances,” Napoleon teased with a wink as he buttoned his coat, ignoring Illya’s fake scowl as they left his quarters to make their way to the hall. “Besides, it’s my ball. They can wait for me.”
“I will be sure to let the Grand Duke know this next time you are late for something,” Illya replied, and he smirked as they reached the hall and left no time for Napoleon to give a retort about just what Illya could tell the Grand Duke for him.
And so began the pomp and circumstance of the ball. Napoleon stood near his father as the guests started to enter, the crier introducing them as they came down the stairs. He would look at each one with interest, for just a moment, before it would fade when it wasn’t who he was looking for. And his hope started to fade as well, when he could see the room filling and the line ending with no girl in sight. The Grand Duke took the time to introduce him to some princess from a nearby kingdom, and he smiled politely as he kissed her hand. It was clear that this was who he was intended to open the ball with for the first dance, and he was resigning himself to that fate, when the door opened once more. He looked up automatically, and his heart skipped a beat.
She was dressed so differently; no working clothes, no dirt on her face, no wind-mussed hair. But still, he knew it was her. She entered cautiously, no chaperone, no announcement, but it was her. He excused himself from the princess to move through the crowd, his eyes fixed on her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She had seen him too, a smile of recognition making her even more beautiful as they met in the center of the room.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Napoleon smiled.
“I couldn’t miss a party like this,” Gaby answered.
Napoleon offered a hand as he bowed slightly. “May I have this dance?”
Gaby nodded and took his hand, and the two of them easily slid into position as the music started.
-----
Gaby didn’t even care if she was late, she was just thrilled to be at the ball at all. She ran up the palace steps as best she could in her gown and heels, thanking the doormen as they let her in. What she hadn’t counted on was that it would still be so quiet in the hall as she entered, feeling every eye turn to her as she slowly made her way down the stairs.
But there was only one set of eyes that mattered to her.
She found them immediately, the piercing blue piercing her with his intense gaze as he made his way towards her as she came down the stairs. She noticed immediately the sash that he was wearing, combined with the delicate circlet placed in his hair, and put the pieces together. What were the odds that it was the prince of all people she had encountered that day in the woods?
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” his voice broke her from her thoughts, and she smiled.
“I couldn’t miss a party like this.”
And they began their dance, following the steps of a basic dance that Gaby knew. Every eye in the room was on them, and Gaby glanced around before back to him. “They’re all looking at you.”
Napoleon, for she knew that was the prince’s name, laughed. “Normally, you’d be right,” he replied smoothly, “But this time... they’re most definitely looking at you.”
Another look, and she knew he was right. Some looks were surprise, but many more were envy. Of course they were. She was dancing with the prince, that’s what all these other girls had been hoping for. The dance continued, and she could only focus on not making a fool of herself. Finally it was done, and Napoleon gripped her hand and gestured for her to follow him.
It was a relief to get out of the ballroom and away from all those looks, and Gaby laughed in disbelief as they stepped into a nearby gallery room. “You didn’t tell me you were the prince !” she pushed his shoulder without thinking, “You said you were an apprentice!”
“I am!” Napoleon laughed as well. “I’m learning my father’s trade—to run a kingdom!” They sat next to each other on a small couch. “It was just... refreshing, to talk with you and not have you behaving one way because you knew who I am.”
The door opened before Gaby could reply, and a guard followed them in and closed the door behind him. “You’d best go to the yard,” the man told Napoleon, “The Duke will surely find you in here and make you return to the ball.”
“Thank you, Illya,” Napoleon said and stood, offering his hand to Gaby. “This is the captain of my guard, and dear friend,” Illya nodded to Gaby. “So we’d best heed his warning. Come on.”
Gaby just nodded to Illya as well and followed Napoleon through more rooms until they reached the back gardens of the palace, wandering through rose bushes and hedges, fountains and statues as far as the eyes could see. “This place is amazing,” Gaby complimented as Napoleon stopped leading them on, deciding that they were secluded enough to evade his duties for the moment.
“You think so?” Napoleon kept a gentle hand on her back as he looked around. “This was always my favorite garden to come play in as a child. My mother and I had many a picnic under this tree.”
“It’s hard to picture you doing something as casual as a picnic,” Gaby teased as she moved around the tree, feeling Napoleon’s gaze following her every move. “You seem too refined for that.”
“Oh, believe me,” Napoleon laughed, “They weren’t your average picnics.”
“I believe you,” Gaby laughed as well, leaning around the tree as Napoleon approached it. Her fingers gripped at the bark as he studied her face, and she his. He could have easily fit right in with the statues that littered the garden, as if he was chiseled out of the same marble. Every angle of his face catching the moonlight as he leaned against the tree, the leaves casting shadows across them. They were quiet then, the night feeling like it had paused just for them as they leaned in--
And the chime of the clock tolling that midnight was approaching broke Gaby from the haze with a gasp as she looked up at the clock tower, her heart hammering. “I have to leave,” she excused herself, quickly gathering her skirts to start retracing her steps.
“What?” Napoleon laughed in disbelief as she started to leave, turning to watch her.
“This night was amazing,” she stopped in the entry of the garden to look at him, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” And then she turned to keep running. Even in the heels she kept her usual pace, and it took her no time at all to reach the stones of the palace again, heels clacking as she made her way through to make it back to the front. She passed the tall guard from earlier, his eyebrows raising in surprise as she raced past him, but she didn’t stop. Nothing would make her stop, even the eyes of everyone watching her again as she passed through the party to exit the front door where she came from.
She was near the bottom of the steps when her heel caught on a step and she stumbled, the shoe sliding off her foot and staying behind as it took her a few steps to regain her balance. When she turned to collect it she looked up and spotted Napoleon at the top of the stairs—had he been chasing her the entire time? She ignored his call to wait and left her shoe to hurry into her carriage to pull away, the clock chiming after her that there was no more time for her to stay behind. As much as her heart ached to stay behind and explain, she knew that there couldn’t be anything more. He was the prince, and she didn’t even have a real ballgown to her name.
-----
Illya had watched the girl run past him in surprise, and he wasted no time in turning to go find Napoleon. He wasn’t far behind, looking around to see where she had gone. “She went back towards the ball,” Illya pointed as Napoleon approached him, “why was she running?”
“I don’t know!” they both started to follow her, “We were just talking and... and then she just started running!” Illya believed him, and he easily parted the guests away from Napoleon to get them an easier path through the party. No one would argue with his size or glare. But even with that extra speed, they had barely reached the foot of the steps as her carriage left the yard, Napoleon holding her abandoned glass shoe.
“Find her, Illya,” Napoleon gripped his arm, “Go after her.”
Illya nodded and wasted no time, shouting for his horse to be brought and racing off into the night, Napoleon left standing on the steps and watching him go.
-----
No one managed to catch her. By the time anyone was close, Waverly’s magic had worn off and she was left as just a disheveled looking girl walking down the road. No one spared her a glance, especially when she hid behind a tree to avoid such glances. But she had her remaining shoe, and she had the memories of the night, and their almost kiss, to carry her home. She had just managed to hide her shoe, change into her normal clothes, and wake the fire back up before the others returned home.
Her step-mother was clearly in a foul mood as Gaby served them all tea while her step-sisters recounted the night and how the prince didn’t pay attention to anyone but some mystery princess. She smiled to herself as she turned away to refill the pot, Victoria’s eyes burning a hole in her back.
For a moment, it seemed like she would get away with it, and that she could continue her life and hold onto those memories. But good things could never last forever.
-----
Napoleon was lost. He felt like a fool , he hadn’t even gotten her name and now she was gone again. And the Grand Duke had and his father still had their ridiculous plan that he should marry a princess, despite his arguments that there was no proof she wasn’t one. She had glass shoes, after all. But they wouldn’t allow him to send out anyone to find her, and all he could do was restlessly move about the palace and watch his father grow weaker.
Illya did what he could to keep his mind off of things, finding things to keep them occupied. On this way, it was hand to hand fighting. Illya had declared that Napoleon’s techniques had gotten ‘sloppy’ and dragged him down to the practice room. Napoleon was glad for the distraction. Illya never left him room to be distracted when they fought, using every moment of weakness in Napoleon’s defense to press forward, and he so hated when he lost to the bigger man.
So he focused, allowing the frustration to fuel him as they grappled. Illya only pulled his punches enough to not leave visible bruises, but each one that hit was still strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. Their match stayed even for long enough they were breathing heavy by the time Illya managed to get a leg up on him, sending them both tumbling to the ground as Napoleon attempted to escape his grip as they rolled across the mats. Illya’s grip never loosened, getting behind Napoleon with an arm wrapped around his throat to keep him from escaping. Napoleon struggled for just a moment more before tapping Illya’s arm to concede, and they parted.
“You are distracted,” Illya commented as they both stood and worked to catch their breath.
“I’m fine,” Napoleon lied as he wiped his face with a towel. “Let’s go again,” he tossed the towel aside and gestured for Illya. The other didn’t move, looking behind Napoleon as Sanders entered the room.
“It’s your father,” the Grand Duke explained as Napoleon turned, his stomach twisting at the words. “Go to him.”
Napoleon didn’t waste any time as he hurried to the king’s chambers. His father was in his bed, eyes closed and breathing slow. The doctor was nearby, but gave them space as Napoleon sat on the edge of his father’s bed to take his hand. The king opened his eyes to smile at Napoleon.
“Oh my son,” he sighed and pulled Napoleon close by the back of his neck. “How I wish I could give you more time to have your freedoms.” Napoleon let himself be pulled close, his hand resting on his father’s arm. “Life is too short to be unhappy... find that girl. You deserve the love you desire.”
Napoleon looked at his father in surprise. “You’re sure?”
His father pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You have my blessing.”
Their moments after that were quiet, Napoleon sitting close and holding his hand as he felt his father’s breath start to slow until it stopped.
-----
The announcement about the search for the unknown maiden went out the next day, and the search began, led by Grand Duke Sanders and Illya, upon Napoleon’s request. He may have been the king now, but he didn’t trust the Duke to not see things for his own gain.
When Gaby heard the news, she realized she didn’t want to waste any more time. She ran up the stairs to her room to find the shoe she had hidden—that would be all the proof that the prince needed to know it was her. But when she moved the floor board, it was gone.
“Looking for this?” Victoria’s voice called out from further into her room, and Gaby’s head shot up with a glare as she stood, spotting her shoe held aloft in Victoria’s hand.
“Give it back to me,” Gaby demanded.
“Is that any way to speak to your precious step-Mummy?” Victoria asked with a mock pout as she stood. “You can have your precious shoe, with some conditions.” Gaby crossed her arms, but waited. “You make me head of the royal household, and find beneficial marriages for my daughters. You may have stolen their chances of marrying the prince, but I will still see us taken care of.”
Gaby looked at her in disbelief. “I will never ,” she worked hard to keep her voice from shaking with rage, “never give you that power over him.”
“Now that’s too bad,” Victoria sighed and, before Gaby could register what was happening, smashed the glass slipper to pieces against the desk. Gaby cried out in rage, kneeling among the pieces as they scattered across the floor. “You will stay here. If you won’t benefit us, then your dear prince won’t get a chance to find his dear maiden.” Before Gaby could reach it the door slammed shut behind Victoria, and she locked it. Gaby threw herself against the wood with a scream of rage before slowly sliding to sit against the door, feeling like everything that had been so close was out of reach forever.
-----
The search went on. The shoe traveled through lines of women at the castle and through the entire town, never fitting on anyone’s foot. And, while Napoleon knew that Illya would not stand quiet if he sensed deceit from the Duke, he knew that Illya had no power over him. So, on the last day of the search, when they knew there were only a few country houses left, Napoleon had Illya bring him a standard guard outfit. It didn’t quite fit, and he felt underdressed in such plain clothes, but it was a necessary deception. He pulled the hat down low over his face as the search party set out from the palace.
It was hard to hold onto his own hope as they approached the final house. Could it come down to this? Or had she disappeared entirely after she fled? Napoleon was almost lost in his thoughts as Illya and Sanders went into the house to allow the two daughters of the widow who lived her to attempt to wear the shoe, but one glance at Illya as he emerged told him it was unsuccessful.
“There is no one else who lives here?” Illya asked, hopeful.
The woman shook her head. “It’s just my two daughters and I, since the passing of my husband.”
And it would have been believable, had the sound of a girl singing not drifted faintly at them from the top of the house. Napoleon lifted his head slightly.
“You heard the lady,” Sanders turned to go, “That’s all we can do.”
“And yet,” Napoleon spoke up as he took off his hat, feeling smug at the look of shock on Sander’s face when he saw the prince dismounting from the horse. “It seems like you have not spoken to every maiden in the kingdom.”
“Your highness,” the woman immediately bowed, “It’s just our poorly kitchen girl, certainly not suited for a task such as this.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” Napoleon told her with barely a glance, “Illya, fetch the girl.”
-----
Gaby had been entirely unaware of what was approaching the house. As promised, Victoria was determined to keep her from seeing the prince once more. She had taken up sitting in the window to watch the clouds pass, the glass cracked open to catch the soft breeze. Her music box was propped open nearby, and she softly sang along with it, a tune that her father had taught her from his native language. When she heard footsteps coming up the stairs she quickly shut the box and stood, hands clenched at her side as she prepared for whatever hate Victoria was coming up to throw her way.
“There, see,” Victoria gestured at her as she opened the door, a tall man right behind her that Gaby immediately recognized from the night of the ball. Illya, Napoleon’s guard. “It’s only her. Hardly worth the trouble.”
“That is not for your to decide,” Illya said firmly, and he turned to Gaby, “Miss, please follow me.”
Gaby nodded and followed. Victoria's hand shot out to grab her arm as she passed. “I forbid you from doing this,” she hissed at Gaby, and Gaby slapped her hand away.
“You are done telling me what to do,” Gaby responded, noticing the impressed look on Illya’s face before they continued down the stairs. He led her to the sitting room and gestured her in, but didn’t follow.
Napoleon was waiting there, and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest as she approached him as he watched her.
“You’re a hard girl to find,” he smiled at her, and revealed the show she’d left behind from behind his back.
“Everyone needs a good challenge sometimes,” Gaby smiled back as she reached him.
He gestured for her to sit in the armchair, and she obliged as he knelt in front of her. With careful hands he slipped her flat off and set it aside, looking up at her to catch her nod of permission before sliding the glass slipper into place on her foot. They both stood again, and he took her hands. That same feeling from the garden came back as they moved close.
“What’s your name?” Napoleon asked as he cupped her cheek.
“Gaby,” she answered as she leaned up, and he met her halfway as they kissed, losing themselves in the moment before he pulled back.
“Will you come back with me?” he asked her as he tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Yes,” Gaby didn’t hesitate to answer, not letting go of his arm as they left the house. She looked back to see Victoria standing on the stairs, enraged and defeated, and she smiled smugly. “At least you still have this household to run,” she remarked to Victoria before following Napoleon down the steps, happy to put them behind her as she climbed up onto his horse behind him.