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Chapter Text

Tadius did not dare breathe as the crown prince staggered his way out of the private garden and far off to the vomitorium, for fear that he might return. Once he was sure that the prince was out of sight, Tadius walked away from the door frame in peace. He almost began to cherish the silence, until he remembered his assignment: “Do not let this one out of your sight until I return.”

Now alone with the starlit wonder of a woman, Tadius observed her expression—tense shoulders and curious eyes finding their way to him. She just had to endure the prince’s crude charm, and by the look on her face, like she had eaten a most sour lemon, Tadius was assured that any interest in him was fleeting. And so, Tadius had brilliantly planted the idea for the prince to excuse himself, as a respite to the lady, but now they were alone in the castle garden. What did he know about being a host?

He would hate to have to wait in silence and stare at the ivy gripped the castle walls, so in the hopes of lightening the mood, Tadius spoke first with some of his unused humor.

“It is a wonder he has been rejected by all the reputable houses,” Tadius quipped, sarcastically remarking on his sovereign’s uncouth manners. This grand ball, marked with splendid music and great tasting of every cuisine, was being held to trap to encourage any eligible young woman to wed the country’s young prince. It was the old king’s last resort in arranging a marriage for the prince, because soon there would not be any lady left in the country who had not been scorned.

“So,” the lady responded curtly, “my house is of ill repute,” spurring Tadius from his preoccupation. She had not moved from her seat on the rock bench, but her face had hardened, and her tone took on a chillier tone that sent a chill down his spine.

Tadius scrambled to salvage the situation. “I did not say that—.”

“No,” she continued, “perhaps you meant ‘in disrepair, to put it delicately.’”

“I am just trying to make pleasant conversation.” Tadius felt that he was in the proverbial corner, but she had yet to lift a finger in his direction.

“Try harder.”

He was, desperately, trying to find a response but a chuckle escaped him first. “I meant no slight to the honor of your house.” Tadius rambled slowly yet aimlessly about the garden, giddy from his glasses of wine. The thought of provoking her again felt too good to pass on, so he continued. “To be fair, I have no idea who you are. It can’t be very reputable, either way.”

The starlit lady gave a great laugh, abandoning her place on the stone bench to take a few paces. “And from what great house do you hail from, sir? Oh pardon—‘sir’ is what you call a knight. How do you address a servant?”

“Kindly, I suggest.” He stopped walking and looked up to see her, eyes bright with strength and mind of wit, and his breath stopped. Tadius could not understand what was happening, because his face felt flush, and his heart was skipping beats. He did not think too hard with his next response. “We do prepare your food and guard you while you sleep.”

“Yes, well, since we’re giving each other advice,” the lady spoke, approaching him slowly, “speak more gently to someone who could have you broken on the wheel.”

She gave a lady-like bow and side-stepped around him, but not before smugly saying, “Goodnight, Tedious.”

Oh, and how such a nickname would have made his blood boil if said by anyone else. But with this starlit mind and beauty, Tadius could not evade smiling to him. Selfishly, he did not want to stop hearing her speak and banter on possibly the best night of his life. “It’s Tadius—.”

The fair lady was quick-footed, already half-way to the exit, so Tadius sped up and tapped her shoulder. He bowed as an apology as well. “My lady, please. Forgive me, I-, I was instructed to entertain you in my prince’s absence.”

She turned around, amusement now etched on her face. Her question was genuinely curious, but Tadius could hear the edge behind it. “Is it your habits to disobey commands?”

Chuckling to himself, Tadius acquiesced, clasping his hands together in a gesture of apology. “Let’s start over. I apologize for any and all offense.”

The lady hummed in acknowledgement, so Tadius continued, mostly to himself as he rambled again. “Not accustomed to having my cleverness matched…or even noticed.”

To his amazement, the lady scoffed, and Tadius could only grin. “I didn’t notice any cleverness on your part.”

“I set you up for that one.” As a servant, Tadius could count on one hand the number of tolerable conversations he’d endured, let alone enjoyable ones. “Well, I am entertained, even if my lady is not.”

“I didn’t say that.” Perhaps it would have been better that she had said nothing at all, because now Tadius could barely remember the proper way to breathe, let alone to speak. His face was most definitely flushed, which was unsightly for a lady to behold. Tadius had to get a hold of himself. He recovered his dropped jaw as gracefully as he could manage. “So you must be pleased, then: the prince is looking for a bride. He’ll choose you obviously—.”

“Really?” asked the lady, incredulously. She stared out at the rose garden, and the moonlight made her dress sparkle and her face shine like a star. “What makes it so obvious?”

“Who wouldn’t?” answered the servant, without taking a moment to consider the implications, and now Tadius was frightened. No, it was not fear he felt, but any other emotion would be blasphemous now that the prince was sure to announce his own intentions to the lady. For the first time in his career, Tadius was scrambling to save himself from his own speech. “That is to say, uh, th- the prince is a simple-minded man,”—what better excuse than to throw the prince under the bridge— “and he responds to visual stimuli, ergo, vis a vis—.”

“Yes, yes,” the lady interrupted amidst a fit of giggles, because thankfully someone was entertaining herself in his misery, “is this the first time you have ever told a girl she is pretty? Because you are making a dreadful mess of it.”

The best response is to redirect. Awkwardly laughing his way out of giving a true reply, Tadius said, “Anyways…what I cannot fathom is how a woman of your wit can find anything alluring about the prince.”

The change of energy in the room was instant and palpable, much more tense and less playful than it had been mere seconds ago. Tadius supposed that made sense: although asked in jest, speaking ill of the prince could result in treason, so Tadius had only himself to blame for the shift in mood. While the lady decided a court-appropriate answer, Tadius found a seat on the rock bench, away from the center of attention as well as line of questioning.

“Oh, well, he is gorgeous and has a castle. What is so hard to fathom?”

The lady gave the politest response, and Tadius was beginning to learn that his lady the lady could not hide her true intentions, even with her back turned to him. Ignoring the elephant in the room is certainly one way to navigate the conversation. Tadius decided to play along. “Ah, I oft forget the castle.”

“But he is also, perhaps, and pardon me for saying this about your sovereign—” Tadius could not imagine the next words because the lady had impulsively decided to sit right beside him on that very bench “—the most repulsive man-being I’ve ever met.”

At last, honesty was winning out, because while Tadius could not flirt for his life, the lady most definitely could not lie to save her life. That being said, he could not find a lie in her statement—being that Tadius was with the prince in almost every waking moment of the day, he knew first-hand the extremities and the idées fixes of the king-to-be. Agreeing with the spoken sentiment would be impossible for his station, however, resulting in his beheading, so he treaded cautiously, albeit overt. “Well, that is treason.”

“No,” she sing-songed, and Tadius was sure that the wine had gotten to the better of her, too, “that’s reason.”

A new thought plagued Tadius’s mind, and now that trust had been established between the two of them, he felt confident in voicing his concern. Moving ever so slightly away from the lady, he spoke and watched for her true feelings to show on her face. “So, if not for love, you must be here for the crown.”

“The crown?”

She looked confused, as if she had never even thought past meeting the prince. How peculiar—almost every lady inside that ballroom right now was having a go at earning the prince’s heart and crown. Surely, there was a motive in their meeting at this ball, where she would not disclose her lineage or name. Yes, he had noticed her need for privacy, and as a person who had so little, Tadius did not pursue the matter. This gorgeously brilliant woman would remain a mystery to him unless she chose otherwise.

“Speaking truth, I had not thought that far ahead.”

“Well, perhaps you better,” Tadius gently chided, and now he had her full attention. “For the prince will choose a bride tonight. But I must warn you, it will not be a happy marriage.”

Even though the lady looked disappointed, recognition filled her eyes, which incentivized Tadius to keep going. He did not know her, not really, but if the past five minutes were any indication, Tadius felt this protective urge to arm the lady with the proper knowledge on the crown prince and his ghastly ways. It would be his gift. “The prince is much like his father. Spoiled, weak, and witless. If anyone is to rule, it will fall to his lady wife. She will bear every responsibility and partake in none of the glory. Is that what you desire? To become queen?”

Tadius did not really believe in any of the Nine Good Gods, not after having lived this life.

Tadius prayed anyway, so that she might say no.

“No,” she whispered earnestly, “I don’t want that. How could I bear such a burden?”

“Then you are wise, my lady,” Tadius steadied his voice so that his relief was not revealed, “to view rule as a burden, not as a birthright.”

“So,” Tadius began. Without giving himself enough time to overthink, Tadius stood up from his seat and, after a few paces, motioned towards the exit. “Why don’t I just…lose track of you?”

That painfully beautiful face remained in disbelief, so Tadius did his best to drive home the point. “Run from this place. Leave the throne to one of those greedy nobles who covets it. For none could be a worse ruler than our prince.”

As an afterthought, Tadius added, “Hell, I’d even take one of those vulgar Ashmore girls.”

“No,” his lady replied, much more quickly this time around, “you wouldn’t.”

Her face betrayed that she had seen a great horror in her day, and Tadius found himself clinging on to her every word.

“You’re wrong, Tadius. There are masters far worse than your prince.”

She spoke with such a great passion and righteousness, Tadius found that she had begun to glow, reminding him of the stars that grace the night sky. His lady was fierce and passionate, so much so that Tadius stared in disbelief. He had found a kindred spirit that wanted a great change for this nation. Not only was she good and kind, she was absolutely right.

“—must burn away in the fire of justice!”

Tadius had never sped-walked faster in his life, and he only stopped when he was a whisper away. “You’re right, but we can’t just kill the king. How would that work?”

Unlike before, her face now showed hesitation, as if their connection from mere moments ago had been broken. “I’m not talking about the king.”

If not the king, then who on earth else? Could it be that Tadius, in his enraptured by her eloquence and brilliance, he had no paid attention? Tonight has been an altogether strange affair, in his defense, and he had been caught completely off-guard. Respectfully, Tadius needed to vacate the premises immediately before he was condemned for speaking treason. Tadius need not be involved in another murder plot. “Neither was I.”

He retreated hastily for the door, turning around every so often to appear calm and save face. If he denied it, perhaps the lady would take the hint and not speak of this to anyone. “I didn’t say anything. This never happened. The night has taken us all places we dare not go.”

Tadius took one last look at the most beautiful of women. He prayed that she would not be there when he inevitably returned with the prince, who would be furious with him. Consequences be damned—the lady deserved much better than a marriage that would drive her to an early grave, or a title with relentless demands and grateful council. Tadius may never see his lady again, but she will always be with him, of that he was certain.

“Enjoy the party, my lady.”

Chapter Text

Tadius’s nose twitched at the stench of flesh sizzling, the glass slipper steaming as the young Lady Ashley howled in pain, struggling to take it off. “It burns, it burns!”

There was nothing to be done but watch as Tadius settled into this monotonous routine. The crown prince, distraught and aroused ever since the mysterious lady disappeared from the royal ball, had ordered Tadius to not rest until she was found; he was to search every nook and noble house in the nation until she revealed herself. Tadius had initially leapt at the opportunity to find her again and to relieve himself of his sovereign’s company. Yet with every imitator and every scream, every argument and every cry, the optimism was being drained right from under him. Tomorrow would mark almost an entire month spent in search of her, his mystery lady from the ball.

The grandfather clock read half past seven in the evening, and Tadius felt hunger pang at his body, so he felt the need to remain civil waning. Every lady that had stepped foot through those doors have been a liar, despite knowing the great risk: anyone other than his lady who tried on the glass slipper would feel the heat of hell on the sole of their foot.

Lady Ashley’s agonizing screech brought him back to the present, rather unfortunately.

“Just as I thought: another pretender,” Tadius sighed, motioning at her to get out of the seat as he shook himself out of his reverie. Disappointment was all over his face, but there was no point in pretending otherwise. “Take it off. You’re not her.”

“Oooowwwww!” howled the young maiden—the Lady Ashley Cromwell, the fourth daughter of the great Sir Alfstan Cromwell and Lady Monday Cromwell, who had rejected the prince six months ago yet had come to the courthouse demanding her turn to try the glass slipper, much to Tadius’ chagrin. She was too young to begin with and spoiled as any of the other court children, but by decree, Tadius had no choice but to allow her a chance to feel special.

The immature Lady Ashley finally succeeded to taking off the too-small glass slipper and, to his surprise, launched it across the floor. He nearly launched himself to catch it, but that was not necessary. Fortunately, there was a carpet to catch its fall, but the consequences would have been dire.

“Careful!” Tadius scolded, huffing as he kneeled to pick up the shoe, gingerly picking it up for any scratches or chips. None to be found. He turned around to face the young lady and continue reprimanding her. “I warned you when you volunteered. The slippers themselves will weed out any tricksters.”

“It’s black magic,” Lady Ashley began, nursing her injured foot in her arms. “Those shoes belong to a witch!”

“Bite your tongue, you lying wench,” Tadius warned, pointing the glass slipper to her direction. If she were not in such a state, she could have ordered for his tongue to be sliced off, but Tadius would allow no one to speak ill of the prince’s future bride his lady. “She’s blessed, not cursed. And this magic slipper will guide me to her.”

He held the glass slipper gently in his hands for a moment too long, and calmly ordered the guard outside that the next lady be brought in. Lady Ashley, in her embarrassment, quietly limped her way out through the judge’s door without a word, sobs wracking her body, but Tadius could not find it within him to care. Tadius was not heartless: he was simply much more distressed at the sight of seeing the Ashmore family burst through the front door, even though he heard their cackles first, reverberating through the courthouse’s halls.

“Well, if it isn’t the ladies Ashmore.” All three ladies gave a curt bow and giggled amongst themselves, eerily chipper about the whole affair.

He did not mask his disdain for them. The younger one, her name did not stick, was playing dangerously with her skirt. Her eyes and lips were crossed no better than a common duck. Lady Putrice, the eldest daughter, looked very pleased with herself, a combination of both fair and foul shining through her manners. Their mother, the Lady Ashmore, looked the most put together yet unsettling all the same. For the mere crime of enjoying the same humor as the crown prince, Tadius already disliked them. He could not imagine this interaction ending any better than their first one at the ball.

“You’re the 100^th woman who has come forward claiming to be the owner of this slipper. Now, I can’t recall what she looked like” –he made sure to stare hard at the Lady Putrice Ashmore, to gauge her reaction and possibly save himself the heartache– “but I remember that she was kindly and well-spoken.”

How could the vulgar Ashmore girls, of all people, believe themselves to be anything like his mystery girl? She was poised whilst they are poisonous, she tactful and them thoughtless. Need he go on?

“So…what the fuck are you implying?” Lady Putrice giggled like a schoolchild, looking back at her family for reassurance, and Tadius repeated calming mantras in his head for serenity. Tadius remembered presenting this family to the crown prince himself when the starlit beauty entered the ball—surely his memory was not that faulty—so it could not be either sister Ashmore. And yet it was their right to try on the sizzling magic slipper, and who was Tadius to deny the gentry?

“I was merely going to warn against deception, but go ahead,” Tadius remarked blandly, presenting the shoe, “try it on.”

“Gimme that!” Lady Putrice Ashmore snatched the slipper right from his hands and raced for the chair at the center of the room. Tadius sighed and looked at the ceiling, only to feel like his neck broke in two, his eyes snapped back to attention when the Lady Putrice Ashmore spoke up again. “Oh, fits like a glove.”

It did. The glass slipper was not even smoking to suggest the contrary or a high pain tolerance. It sparkled like a traitor in the waning evening light that hailed through the open window. Lady Putrice Ashmore sat there all pretty and coquettish, as if she already knew the forgone conclusion Tadius had yet to reach himself. She fit into the glass slipper, which could only mean—.

The sisters had begun bickering as Tadius felt his heart close in on itself. He could not mask his disgust and confusion any longer.

“No, no, no!” Tadius could not catch his breath, and the world was most certainly spinning. The lady at the ball was regal and witty and incredible and nothing like this rotten, brainless obscenity. “I don’t believe it.”

To his utter shock and utmost horror, the elder Lady Ashmore exclaimed, “Then believe this!” as she pulled out the other glass slipper, identical in size and shine. Tadius could feel tears begin to swell as the realization officially formed in his head. “We have its double, see?”

Tadius made a move to reach for the right shoe, but the elder Lady Ashmore did not relent, instead giving it to Lady Putrice, who gleefully put on the other slipper, officially completing the pair. Lady Ashmore continued her tirade. “She is the mystery girl! All bow before Putrice Ashmore, your new queen!”

And so did the two guards inside the court room, as did the four guards outside the court room and the footmen of the carriage. Bystanders stood around and gawked as the family Ashmore shrieked in delight about their change in fortune. No doubt that the town would delightedly share the gossip with the rest of the town before nightfall, further cementing this new facet of reality.

There would be a royal wedding to prepare for. The queen-to-be has been found.

Tadius felt as though he were wading through mud as he ordered the guards about and the ladies into the carriage. He politely declined the opportunity to sit alongside them in the carriage—he would have surely caused a scene—and instead took his horse ahead of the procession to the castle. If she really is the one, the mystery lady that gave him a reason to laugh and possibly love, Tadius wanted the decency of privacy to mourn a fantasy.

Chapter Text

There was only ten minutes before the wedding ceremony began, and Tadius needed every second to himself. He was pacing around in the green room of the throne room, away from the hustle and bustle of last-minute preparations. The ceremony had not yet begun but Tadius deserved every right to express his exhaustion due to his dedicating the past three days to this nonsense and nothing else. The crown prince had, naturally, absconded from all responsibilities after announcing their upcoming nuptials. He had claimed a “vow of irrefutable silence” to write heart-warming and truthful vows. Tadius did not have the strength or rank to dispute the crown prince.

The bride-to-be had surprised Tadius with one final request: the ceremony must begin after sunset. She went on and on about the time being a tradition in her family, and it was such a nonfactor that it was immediately granted. In his defense, all her other suggestions were remarkably irrational. In front of the entire kitchen staff, Lady Putrice had asked for maggot soup as the main course for the dinner reception. Everyone laughed uncomfortably when she did not offer an explanation, and she continued to offer other outlandish ideas that her last one felt harmless. He then proceeded to ignore all other recommendations given for the sake of his sanity.

While this fortunately nixed his need to visit the Ashmore’s wing of the castle, Tadius was entrusted to

                                                                                                                         invite the gentry and oversee the

                                                                                 decorating and select the silverware

                                                                                                                                   and hire a prestigious music

                                                                                                                                                                 band and commission the ceremonial

                                         outfits for the couple and

                                                                                                                                                                                                  custom the dinner menu and

                                                          arrange the reception ceremony and

                                                                                                                                                                 learn how to officiate and

                                                                                                                         coordinate time to panic.

Tadius deserved to break down—he was carrying the royal wedding of the century on his shoulders—but he refused to give anyone the pleasure of his pain. He could hold on for as long as the imported coffee did not run out.

The ceremony of the crown prince and Lady Putrice’s union was to be held on a perfect June day, on a day the auger had called most auspicious for the country. Tadius, an unbeliever, snorted at the idea: there was no doubt in his mind that their union was more of a death sentence for the nation. Their combined geniuses were the architectural blueprint of mental atrophy. Having grown up alongside the crown prince while also engaging with the Ashmore girls for far too long, Tadius was far too familiar with their behavior and intellect, both leaving him wanting for more. Tadius could weep at his prospective future and for his country. Did he really want to be involved in this farce to matrimony?

If Tadius were a member of the nobility, or even the gentry, he would undoubtedly object. Tadius would stand tall and face the crown prince’s wrath with the support of his house withstand all the fire. Any consequence that befell him would be of little importance because his family crest would be his shield. Rising from his pew, Tadius’s finger would accusingly point at the ill-suited couple, raining truth and hellfire in the name of Pisco. Because of his challenge to the throne, the wedding would be under greater levels of scrutiny, possibly postponing it indefinitely. Tadius could quite literally buy time as he tried to try and find the real mystery g—.

He stopped himself in his tracks. Who was Tadius to believe himself capable of changing destiny? All his life, Tadius had amounted to nothing more than a grossly paid babysitter, a profession that he did not even have the luxury of choosing for himself. All his life, Tadius had not stopped to ask himself about his heart’s desire; it felt too vulnerable, too unrealistic to mention. But now, with his world at stake, Tadius dared to think that he, too, is capable of great things, and that he was made for more.

His thoughts shifted to the crown prince and his bride-to-be. Her words echoed in his mind, playing like a call to arms.

Those who would bring rot and ruination to this land.

Those who would squander and devour until †here is nothing left.

Those who would defile the throne must burn away in the fires of justice.

A quick rap of the door sobered Tadius from his despair, and a friendly maid walked through, silently motioning that the ceremony was to begin. After patting down his black ceremony suit—he did not feel festive enough to brighten his wardrobe—Tadius thanked her and made his way to the officiant’s podium.

With a subtle nod to the band, the trumpets sounded, and the drums roared to life. The audience stood as the great doors opened to reveal the crown prince. All eyes were on him, so naturally the prince was in his element. The crown prince swaggered down the aisle, shamelessly showing himself off and taking his time to catwalk and charm the crowd. The live band was on its second loop of the main wedding song, so Tadius refocused his attention elsewhere. The red, white, and gold of his family colors were perfectly balanced in the prince’s wedding suit. Tadius had to stifle a laugh when he recognized pillow tassels were attached to the prince’s shoulders. No wonder he resembled an old-fashioned pillow. To the credit of the tailors, Tadius had given them free creative control. He made a mental note to never upset them.

At last, the crown prince made his way by Tadius’s side, elbowing him in glee and leaning back and forth, impatiently. Tadius rolled his eyes but cued for the live band to start again. The bride-to-be was let in, and she both basked in the spotlight yet clumsily stumbled in the glass slippers. Her attire was nothing short of unnoteworthy, a simply purple frock with a dangerously low neckline, and her glass slippers, lest anyone forget why she was the one walking down the aisle. Lady Putrice moved quickly, her hungry eyes never leaving the prince. Her family had their own row in the front, so Tadius was able to see the youngest Ashmore sitting down in defiance while their mother looked most proud.

Once Lady Putrice took her place on the altar, opposite of the crown prince, Tadius wasted no time in urging the gentry to sit so he could begin the ceremony. While studying to obtain the certificate to ordain this union, Tadius also worked around the rules to shorten this wedding as much as possible. Granted that everything go according to plan, Tadius could empty ordain this couple in the time it would take him to down a chalice of wine. With the consent of the crown prince, of course, Tadius was able to cut out the major passages on love and the frivolous ritual of tying a ribbon around their hands as well as the call and responses.

What did it matter, at the end of the day? Love was not at stake, so why bother with the pomp and circumstance?

“Lords and ladies, knights and nobles,” Tadius began, raising his voice as that all could hear. “We are gathered here beneath at the sight of the Nine Good Gods to unite in holy matrimony our beloved prince and his…mystery woman.”

The bride was playing with her hair like an overexcited child as the crown prince flirted with her wordlessly. Tadius wanted someone to pinch him to help him escape this nightmare.

“A mystery no longer: Lady Putrice of House Ashmore. The prince has prepared his own vows.”

She giggled expectantly whilst the prince brought out a crinkled sheet of parchment for his vest. Tadius had no expectations: he remembered the prince’s capacity for poetry during their schooling. Then again, when was the last time the crown prince had picked up a parchment deliberately, let alone a pen? Perhaps he had misjudged the prince and he was truly moved by a force stronger than lust.

Unfolding it, the crown prince read aloud,

“A breast and a breast, upon thy chest,

Unclasp the button of thy vest.

Let me see them tumble free

Let me squeeze them.

Lucky me.

And that’s it.”

Naturally, the captive audience would have applauded if the crown prince began stripping. The youngest Ashmore was the loudest voice among the crowd, booing to her heart’s context and in spite of her sister; disgustingly, Tadius had to admit he shared the feeling. All Tadius could do was hang his head in shame, and the poem was not even directed at him. By proxy, he felt ashamed on behalf of the bride, who looked beyond enamored with the whole catastrophe.

“That was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me,” Lady Putrice confessed, and Tadius felt a pang of pity at the lady’s poor standards.

It was unclear what reaction the prince had been expecting, but he gave a surprised, “Oh, good,” before tucking away his vows back into his vest.

“Eat your heart out, Racilda!” Lady Putrice unexpectedly shouted back to the youngest’s cries. Rancilda, from her spot in the pews, began to snarl, and if it were not for their mother yelling “down” as if to a dog, Tadius feared he would have had to intervene.

Tadius would hate for the wedding cake to melt, so he continued. “Yes, and by the will of the Faith and of the Crown, I declare thee husband and wife. You may kiss your queen.”

The bride does not hesitate to grab the prince by his collar and kiss him, almost sweeping the prince off his feet. It was almost animalistic, and Tadius was far too close to the crime scene to be able to keep his emotions in check, especially in the face of public indecency. However, his attention was called away from their crude behavior when the elder Ashmore began shrieking in delight, more than is considered respectable at a wedding, bordering on obnoxious.

She and the youngest Ashmore—Rancilda, that was her name—were now laughing together and pushing their way out of the pew. The guards made no attempt to stop the Ashmore family from reuniting on the altar, but this was not protocol and most certainly not rehearsed. He desperately wished that someone would maintain a modicum of decorum.

“My lady,” Tadius asked, keeping up the appearance of control, “I kindly ask that you stay seated! My lady!”

Lady Putrice Queen Putrice was in a fit of giggles, also inexplicable, yet all three ladies appeared in sync. Their approach to the altar was truly intimidating, so Tadius slowly backed down from his place at the podium to better observe, he expertly justified. The crown prince The king—Tadius would most take some time adjusting to these changes in status—tried to play along, also clapping his hands like his newly-wed wife, but mirrored Tadius’s state of confusion.

“Is something funny?” The king asked sincerely, looking at the three women for a sign. “Am I missing something funny?”

“Oh, yes! You are. You all are,” answered Lady Ashmore cryptically. She walked about the altar like it was her home, and also began to address the audience. “If one of you came wearing our hide, we’d sniff you out in an instance, but the manfollk have always been blinded by the soft and supple flesh.”

Her girls giggled and made flirtatious faces to the crowd, and Tadius had left a sinking sensation. That last sentence was a clever jab at the king, who remained none-the-wiser. The rest confused Tadius: menfolk? “Our hide”? No one used this terminology, yet Lady Ashmore appeared to be distancing herself from humans altogether. Those words sounded very familiar, and Tadius scoured through the nooks and crannies of his mind in search of an answer.

“You invited us in and crowned one of us queen. And what a lovely ceremony it was.” Her tone rose in fervor, her body shaking in excitement. “But now, it is time for the wedding feast. Yes, all of you, lords and ladies. Come, daughter! Throw off your garters. It’s time to cut the cake.”

One by one, each Ashmore lady reached for the back of their neck and begun to tug at a very fine thread. At once, their faces began to sag unnaturally, with only the spark of their eyes still bright and recognizable. Their limbs hung loosely and from his vantage point, Tadius prayed that it was not hard rock that was peeping through their spines.

A great clamor arose. The throne room shook with shrieks of terror as the three trolls burst free from their fleshy raiment, grinning and ghastly.

Tadius was not born to be the prince’s attendant and personal confident. He was beginning to remember. He had some semblance of an ordinary life until the age of six. Before he was brought to the castle to be reared in exchange for his life, Tadius had been the son of a poor troll hunter. The man shortly after passed away due to a disease that quietly claimed many souls in his old village. Tadius remembered very little of their time together—it has been more than twenty years since he had given the old man any thought—but his words rang throughout his mind like a warning bell.

My boy, a troll is wicked and not often led by reason. Do not plead, and do not beg. If they are hungry and have their sights set upon you, all you can do is run. So run, my boy, run.

When those creatures of darkness cast of their disguises, Tadius hesitated at his podium, at a loss for words, and for that he paid a great price: he watched as the bride-troll dove for the crown prince and tore his sovereign’s head off his body without remorse, her protruding teeth now stained with blood and eyes with bloodlust.

Learning from his mistake, Tadius did not look back as he ran. He first made his way to the green room, then the corridors and through secret passageways and up the stairs, in no particular order. Whenever he felt himself slowing down, he heard their laughter in the back of his mind and resumed running. His whole life has been about surviving, and Tadius was not about to lose his life when he finally found his passion to live.