Her Majesty The Prince

Lou looked down at her bunk one last time. A modest bed, pushed up against the wall, surrounded by others just like it. She truly had been prepared to spend years here. Maybe she'd have made her last night in it more meaningful, had she known. She wasn't quite sure how one would go about doing that, but after hearing so many of Sleeves's stories about their aunt, Lou had gained a soft spot for rituals.

She looked through her side of the nightstand drawer one last time—finding a half-full lotion container she'd gotten from Gaston—and threw it along with the rest of her things onto the wolf pelt cloak she'd laid out on the bed. She folded the fabric over and rolled it up, tying it off with a rope around the middle that she could use as a carrying handle.

She was packed. Time to go.

Lou knew the numbness would fade. She had done her best to comfort herself, to think back to all the times she'd survived far worse, but the crushing solitude looming overhead would catch up sooner rather than later. There was no place for her in the Prince's plans; she needed to go where she could process that in peace. She needed to leave.

"You think they're still at it?" Dusty asked, walking into the room with the others in tow.

Sleeves shrugged. "They must've come up for air at this point. Heh, I can't get over how unsurprised the head maid sounded about the whole thing."

"I guess this sort of thing happens!" Chiffon said cheerfully. "Though, you should talk to my cousin about it. He was stationed outside the Prince's chambers last night, and the things he heard—oh!"

"Heyyy, look who's finally back!" Dusty said as she ran up to Lou before she could make good her escape. She gave her a hearty slap on the back. "Nice of you to join us, you wild animal."

"I gotta say, Glasses, I'm impressed." Sleeves gave her a sedate thumbs-up. "Never thought you had it in..." Then they noticed the makeshift bedroll she was holding. "Oh."

"What do you mean oh? What is it?" Dusty looked to Sleeves, then back.

"I'm sorry," Lou finally said, her arms trembling. "I need to leave."

Dusty's expression dramatically softened. "Hey, hey, it's okay Glasses, this stuff happens!" She gave Lou a comforting pat on the shoulder. "You don't need to leave over this, you hear me? There's nothing to be ashamed of! C'mon, you can help me with kitchen work and tell us all about it at mealtime!"

"Oh! Yes, please do!" Chiffon added with an encouraging smile.

No matter how desperately she wanted to, Lou couldn't stay any longer. She had broken down so, so many times in the span of a single day already, and there was still more to come—feelings that she couldn't quite understand, staying just out of reach. Part of her wondered if she would ever reach the bottom of this well of emotions her new body had opened up. Would she be crying like this every day for the rest of her life? Just how many tears had she been holding back all these years?

She needed to rest. She needed to sleep for days. Maybe weeks.

"I'm sorry," Lou said, drawing upon every last bit of strength to maintain her composure. "I can't stay. I... I have to leave." She took a shaky step toward the door.

"Wait, what do you mean you have to?" Dusty stepped in her path, holding her by the shoulders. The softness on her face was gone, once again replaced by steel and sharp edges. "Glasses. Is he making you leave?"

Lou looked down. Even after everything that had happened, she couldn't hold anything against him. Whenever the slightest spark, the tiniest flame of anger would ever dare to ignite in his direction, it would be instantly flooded by an ocean of tears. He had never led her astray. What would it say about her if she were to betray that trust now, when the stakes were so high? "I'm sorry," she finally said.

Dusty released her hold on Lou's shoulders. She cracked her knuckles. "Gods, I am going to tear him limb from limb."

"Please don't!" Lou implored, reaching out with a trembling hand while the other strained to hold onto her bedroll. They couldn't understand the scale of it all—how this was much bigger than just one person—and she wasn't equipped to explain it to them right now. What's more, no matter how she felt about the Prince... she didn't want him to suffer. "Please. Please be kind to him."

Dusty let out a dry chuckle, grabbing Lou's hand and holding it tight. "Honey. Sweetheart. Babycakes. Absolutely not." She gave her hand a pat. "But fine, just for you, he gets to keep his limbs."

"Are you gonna be okay out there, Glasses?" Sleeves asked, doing their best not to sound too concerned. "Do you have, like... family? Friends in town, or something?"

Lou shook her head. "I have a... a place in the city. And an escort. I'll figure it out." She took another step toward the door. "Thank you, everyone. Thank... thank you so much."

"Wait!" Chiffon said, returning to the huddle. Lou hadn't even seen her leave. The taller maid held up a folded letter, hastily written. "I have a little time before my next shift. I can walk you out, okay?"

Lou nodded. She said her goodbyes—exchanged hugs—and that was it. They may have been simply coworkers, but she knew firsthand how strong the bonds forged by proximity over time could be. Whether the feeling was mutual or not, to her, these three had been her friends. And now she needed to leave them behind.

The first step was hard. But once she was outside, walking along the grass in the shade of the interior wall, the going became a little easier. She was glad Chiffon was there, if only for a bit more time; if only for a distance she could see shrinking before her eyes, step by step.

"Here," Chiffon said, handing her the letter she'd written.

"What's this?" Lou asked, opening it with one hand. It was some sort of... introduction?

"The Shepherd's Troupe! I toured with them before coming to work here at the castle. They travel a lot, but they're usually not too far from the city this time of year. They're good people, and they can always use an extra pair of hands." Chiffon smiled in that comforting way she did so well. "I think they could be what you need, even if it's just for a little while."

"Thank you, it's..." Lou squinted, trying to read Chiffon's scratchy handwriting. Her glasses had gotten more smudged than she'd realized, despite her best efforts. She took them off, letting her bedroll down on the grass for a moment while she reached for her cleaning cloth—and could not find her apron pocket. It suddenly hit her that she was no longer wearing her uniform.

"Oh, let me!" Chiffon said, taking the glasses to clean them.

Lou read the rest of the letter, no longer caring about keeping up the pretense of needing glasses. Nonetheless, she brought the paper up to her face to look closely at the signature. "Wait, this is from...?"

Chiffon bounced in place merrily. "That's me!" She handed back Lou's glasses, face beaming with warmth. "Now that you're leaving the castle, it's only fair you get to know. Hi, I'm Marguerite."

Lou smiled back, taking the folded eyeglasses in her hands. "Hi Marguerite. I'm Lou." There was probably no harm in it. Right then, she just wanted to be honest with her friend.

Chiffon grinned. "It's nice to meet you..." She gasped in astonishment as she got her first good look at her bare face. "Lou, you're so pretty!"

"Ah, th-thank you!" Lou said, instantly flustered. She reflexively fumbled for her glasses to hide behind them, but her trembling fingers couldn't quite open them up properly. She wasn't used to getting compliments about her face. Especially now that it was, truly and completely, her face.

"I can't believe you! This whole time, you were hiding such a cute face from us!" Chiffon pouted as she reached out to cup Lou's cheeks, pushing aside the hair framing her features. "This lovely... face..." she said, trailing off as her mock anger faded into wide-eyed surprise.

Lou's chest tightened. Oh, no.

Chiffon's gaze crisscrossed Lou's face. She blinked once, twice, turned her head briefly toward the top of the castle, where the Prince's room was. Then she turned back. Chiffon looked directly into her former colleague's eyes as her expression faded into melancholy. "Lou," she finally said, voicing it like the answer to a question.

Lou finally managed to put her glasses back on and stumbled back, grabbing at her bedroll as she tried to walk away. No. No, she didn't want this. Not now, not after baring her heart, not after everything that had happened. She didn't want to be recognized. She didn't want to be pitied. She had to leave. She had to leave right now.

She made it two steps before losing her grip on her bedroll. She almost tripped, then doubled back to go and pick it up again... and that's when Chiffon caught her.

The taller maid wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. Lou tried to resist it for a moment, but as soon as Chiffon began to rock side to side—the way she always did when comforting her—Lou's resolve melted away and she returned the hug.

The two held each other tight for a while. When they gently released their hold on one another and took a step back, it was Chiffon who was teary-eyed.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay," Chiffon said, smiling as she wiped her eyes. She reached out and gently put her hands on Lou's shoulders, her face growing serious for a moment. "He's a fool, Lou."

Lou nodded silently, barely keeping her emotions in check. Then she gave her friend one last, big hug. One last moment in her arms, feeling her warmth, smelling whatever sweet perfume she had decided to try on the spur of the moment. She would miss her most of all.

Lou stepped back and bowed. "Thank you. For everything." She picked up her bedroll, tucked in Chiffon's letter, and headed for the door leading inside the stone wall surrounding the castle grounds.

A small ways inside the fortification, Lou found herself back in a familiar place: a small stone room with sparse furniture and even fewer decorations, save for a lone painting on one of the walls. She was back in that same gatehouse. Except this time, once she left the room, she knew she wouldn't be coming back.

So Lou sat down, in the same spot she had all those months ago, to catch her breath. And waited.

She knew this wouldn't solve anything. She knew she had to leave. She wanted to leave. She knew that the longer she stayed here, the harder it would be on her. She had already said her goodbyes; there was nothing left for her here.

But still, she waited.

Maybe something could still happen to change this. Maybe Chiffon would come knocking, having negotiated a solution. Maybe the Prince himself would walk through that door, head full of second thoughts, arms wide open.

Well.

Lou didn't really believe any of that could happen, but a tiny part of her had hope. And even the smallest drop of hope was often enough to sustain the most stubborn people.

She looked up at the painting someone had put in the spot left vacant all those months ago.

She had always preferred the gatehouse paintings, the workshop paintings, the kitchen paintings. The ones the decorators invariably relegated to the least prestigious places because they lacked the perfection that high society clamored for. But the least perfect paintings, more often than not, had the most personality. Those were the paintings you wanted to keep around for a long time, because what they lacked in mastery, they made up for in emotion.

And so it was for this particular painting: not the best at depicting its particular subject, but certainly the most eager. The bright eyes, the jagged features, the smoldering presence, set against a blazing sun and grass indistinguishable from flames—the painter had absolutely adored their model, had wanted to make sure every person who looked at the canvas afterwards would feel just as enthralled and intimidated as they did. And in no small part, they succeeded.

As hard as it was to look at it right now, even Lou had to concede that this was a striking painting of the Prince.

She let out a long sigh, wrapping her arms around her midsection. It had gotten cold. This gatehouse had never been meant to be hospitable. But still, she didn't want to leave. Not yet. Not while hope still—

Footsteps. Quickly approaching, heavy, thundering footsteps.

Lou turned to look at the door, holding her breath. Of course she didn't believe that what she imagined might happen. But a part, a tiny part of her...

A strong hand gripped the handle, and pushed the door open. Frederic stepped into the room.

Lou choked back tears alongside the breath she'd been holding. This had been a mistake. This had been a huge mistake. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll leave," she said, stumbling to her feet as she scrambled for the bedroll she'd set down somewhere nearby.

"Sir, wait."

Lou stopped, one hand on the door leading out, the other hanging onto the cloak wrapped around the last of her belongings.

"Please, sir," the knight said as he sat down next to the spot where Lou had been up until a moment ago. He motioned to the still-warm seat. "Sit with me?"

Lou applied the tiniest amount of force to the door, just enough to test whether or not it would move. Then she withdrew her hand, and gingerly stepped back toward the center of the room, toward Frederic. She sat back down in a heap, hugging her bedroll tight, staring straight ahead. "How'd you know I was still here?"

"I didn't. But, I held out hope you might." He motioned to the side with the back of his hand. "I came back from the award ceremony to learn you'd been summarily dismissed. One of your coworkers in the servant's quarters mentioned you'd left already. But, with all due respect, you like to loiter. I concluded I had a good chance of finding you here still, so I took it. And here you were, sir."

"Mm," Lou said, nodding. "You don't have to call me 'sir' anymore, you know."

"Sir." Frederic put a hand on her shoulder. "You'll always be the one who trained me."

"Listen to me!" Lou said, reaching up to take his hand, her bedroll dropping to the floor in the process. "Listen to me," she repeated as she put her palm against his, holding both of their hands up in front of him. "We're... we're not switching back, okay? Me and him, we talked about it. We're not switching back. This is me now." Her hand trembled slightly. "This... this is forever."

She splayed her fingers against his, her fingertips straining to reach the furthest of his knuckles.

"This is... this is as far as I can go." She let her hand slip down, and off his. "This is my body now. I'm not your superior. I'm not... I'm not even a knight anymore." Her voice grew quieter. "I'm just me now."

He took an uncharacteristically deep breath. "I understand, sir. I do."

"Then act like it!" she half-yelled, her hands balling up into fists. "Don't just... talk like nothing happened. Don't keep treating me like I'm bigger and stronger than you." She looked off to the side. "Because I'm not. I'm not!" She took a shaky breath. "Not anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect, sir, I think you give yourself too little credit." Then he frowned. "Hold on. Why aren't you a knight anymore?"

"The Prince..." Lou began to say, then stopped to collect herself. "He released me from my oath."

"What? He can't just do that."

Lou burst into laughter so suddenly that she started coughing halfway through. "That's what I tried to tell him!" Her smile was short-lived. "I really... really, really tried to tell him. I tried to tell him how I felt. He wouldn't listen." She wiped her eyes. "I tried so hard. I tried everything I could think of. I'd begin to open up, and the next thing I knew we'd be talking about something else. I couldn't keep up."

Frederic put his hand on her shoulder again. "It's alright, sir."

"No it's not!" She pushed him away. "I can't... I can't do this. I hate this place. I hate this room. All I do in here is cry. All I ever do in here is pour my heart out onto the floor and cry." She wiped her eyes, more forcefully this time, as if she could punch her tears so hard they wouldn't come back. "I've embarrassed myself in front of you enough times already."

Frederic sighed. "If I may be honest, sir, it was I who embarrassed myself the last time we were here. A proper knight would have known to show empathy."

Lou avoided his gaze. "I just... I just want to keep whatever dignity I have left."

"Sir. What dignity is there in denying yourself?" He held out a gloved hand. "Please, let me make up for my past behavior. You're clearly hurting. For all the times you held back in the years we worked alongside one another, let today be the day you show no restraint."

Lou looked at Frederic's hand, then up at him. "You don't have to keep doing this every time."

He leaned in, his usual mask of decorum warm with compassion. "Sir, I can think of no burden I would more proudly bear than to be the shoulder you cry on."

Lou's shoulders drooped. She knew it was the stubborn part of her that was resisting this. And besides, she'd already crossed this threshold with Frederic. She couldn't deny that right now, she needed comfort, and that she wouldn't find it outside that door. Not for a long time.

She took his hand, gave in, and leaned against him. Might as well. Might as well, for one final time.

And then... nothing happened. Just a single tear; barely one at that.

She was so fragile! She'd been barely holding back a torrent of emotions ever since stepping foot outside the Prince's chambers! She could feel something bubbling up under the surface, ready to erupt—why wouldn't it? Why wasn't she able to just let go? Was her stubbornness now refusing to give in, not even to her?

What now?

Lou chuckled ruefully. She had done it: she had given up the last bit of her pride and now the tears wouldn't even come. Typical. Typical for the worst day of her life. She didn't want to let the bitterness overcome her but at this point it was all she could do not to get swept up in the tide.

"I shouldn't have come," she mumbled quietly, her forehead pressed against Frederic's collarbone. "Eight months of hard work. Almost a year, and it got me nothing. Less than nothing. I only made things worse." She gritted her teeth. "That's why you tried to stop me, isn't it. You knew it'd end this way."

Frederic shook his head. "I was simply doing my job. To a fault, in hindsight. But surely," he took the time to carefully select his next words, "from the sound of it, you had some good times together?"

She thought back to that night. It was hard to forget it; she suspected she'd be thinking about it for a long, long time to come. But she shook her head, doing her best to will away the rising color from her cheeks. "It was just one night. He made that clear."

In the moment, she had been hopeful; in the last seconds of contact she had with the Prince, she had truly believed that something good could come of it, just like any adversity can become the heat that tempers steel. But now, in this turbulent sea of rising bile, there was only cold reality. "It wasn't worth losing the last thing keeping us together."

There was a long silence, without tears.

"Did you ever love someone?" Lou asked, her gaze once again drifting up toward the painting.

Frederic took some time to answer. "I did, once."

"Did it work out?" she asked, knowing the answer already. He was a knight; his needs came third. But still, she felt curious enough to ask.

"It was not meant to be. I loved the shadow of a person in my mind, a character someone played."

"That sounds sad."

"Only for me, and only for a time," Frederic said. "I would rather see the actor thrive," he added, wistfully.

The two of them stayed there for a while. As easily as all the tears before had come, there was something holding the rest back, something Lou couldn't quite put her finger on.

She pushed herself away. "This isn't working. You do all this for me and I can't even cry. I can't do anything right."

"Sir—"

"At least before, I was stronger. Everyone kept talking like they knew everything and I didn't, but I knew I was stronger. I knew if bad stuff happened, I'd be the one to stop it, and they'd respect me for it. Now I have nothing. Now I'm just small and wrong all the time." Her heart was beating faster. Her frustration was coming to a boil and turning into something she couldn't quite recognize.

Frederic tried to protest as gently as he could. "Sir, you're not—"

"I should've just said it then!" Lou said, grabbing a fistful of Frederic's uniform. There came a tightness in her chest, but she kept going. "Back when I was strong, back when I could do something about it! Back when I was actually useful to him! I should've told him I loved him then, before it was too late. Before..."

It was like the wind was suddenly knocked out of her.

"Before..." she said, reaching up with her other arm to hold onto Frederic for support. "It's too late now. Oh, gods. I knew I loved him. I knew. I knew all this time, but I never let myself believe it. I had all the time in the world to say something. We were together every day for years, and he relied on me. He trusted me. And now it's too late. Now it's over." She struggled to speak, her face wincing with every word. "It's my fault. I had all this time, and I wasted it."

Lou felt Frederic put his arms around her as the tears finally started flowing again, stronger than before. Stronger even than the first time he'd comforted her in this very place all those months ago. She had found it, the key that opened this particular door. And as the seconds passed and the realizations deepened, her cries only grew louder.

"I could've said something while had the chance! Why didn't I?" she asked, her lip quivering, her hands beginning to shake as they held onto his uniform. "Why?!"

Lou screamed out. A cry of anguish, louder than she'd ever allowed herself to vocalize in years, in decades; in a lifetime's worth.

She'd had so long to tell the Prince how she felt. The two of them had been through thick and thin, had developed the kind of bond few people ever do. She would never find someone who trusted her as much, not for the rest of her life. She would never find someone she could follow so unquestioningly, someone who knew her inside and out—especially now. Maybe she could've had what she wanted, had she only acted sooner. The one defining trait she found pride in where others found derision: her stubborn dedication to acting without hesitation... and she couldn't even bother to put it to use for herself.

Her needs could wait, she'd thought. Her happiness could wait, she'd figured. But now it was too late. And she had no one to blame but herself.

The pain in her hands was the first indication that she'd been striking Frederic, raining down ineffective blows on his chest as he held her close. But she didn't even leave a scratch. Her arms went limp as she slumped forward, her voice hoarse from sobbing, her eyes red from the tears.

"I wasted it," she said, her voice a raspy shadow of what it had been before. "I wasted all the time I had. I wasted all this time thinking when I should've just acted."

Frederic rubbed her back silently, giving her all the room she needed to speak.

"I tried to be smart about it. Look where it got me." She hiccupped. "I should've just said it. I should've just said it while I had the chance. Now it's too late." She tried to push away from Frederic, her head low. "One night. That's all I got. I just wanted to be wanted. I just wanted to be loved. Now I have nothing. There's nothing left between us."

"Sir, I've told you this before," Frederic said, as softly as he could, "the Prince is not the best at showing his feelings, but he does care for you."

Lou started tearing up again, her face twisting into a mask of anguish. "Then he fooled you too."

Frederic shrugged. "I may be a fool. But you did hire me, and I would not have followed you all those years without trusting your judgment."

She chuckled in spite of herself. "I wanted someone who could make up for my lack of manners."

Frederic harrumphed. "Is that what stood me apart from the rest? My etiquette skills?"

Lou let herself lean against him again, the side of her head flat against his chest. Trying to calm down, timing her breathing to his heartbeat. "And your strength. You're really strong. That was really important too. I wasn't gonna train someone who couldn't keep up with me. Someone who... who couldn't replace me."

Frederic's face became an imperceptible mask once again. "Hm."

"You did it," Lou said, smiling between stuttered breaths. "You did the job. You learned everything. You don't need... an embarrassment like me... any..."

"Sir," Frederic said in a firm voice, taking Lou by the shoulders and positioning her back up onto her seat so they could talk eye to eye. "I will not tolerate this kind of disparaging talk about a veteran of the guard."

Lou swayed in place, making eye contact in fits and starts. "I hope you find someone," she said quietly. "I hope you don't end up like me."

"Sir!" Frederic shouted, suddenly incensed.

She could only stare back, startled by his reaction.

"Sir, there is a light inside you. I have managed to glimpse it here and there over the years, but ever since that fateful day, it's only grown brighter." The corner of his eye twitched as he chose his next words. "You have a lifetime ahead of you. This world is full of people who can deserve, who will appreciate this endless well of love you carry within you. I know you can find them."

Lou's gaze fell from his eyes to his uniform, and down to the floor. "They won't be like him. They won't understand me like he does."

"Forget about him!" Frederic said, immediately frowning at his own outburst. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then spoke again, having regained his usual decorum. "Sir, if you deny yourself a chance at happiness waiting for him; if you are lucky enough to find an opportunity for joy in this life, and you squander it on his behalf..." He looked at her with the most dead-serious stare Lou had ever seen, and gave her a resolute nod. "I will never forgive you."

She looked at him for a long time, taken aback. "Frederic," she finally said.

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "My apologies, sir." He took another long, measured breath. "I let my passion get the better of me."

An awkward silence hung in the room.

Lou raised her arms toward Frederic slightly, hesitantly, then brought them back down. She waited a moment. Then she leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a proper hug. A hug that someone gives a comrade. Perhaps a little friendlier than that.

The knight returned the hug, in the least formal way he could manage.

Lou smiled weakly. Her tears had finally dried up. For now.

Frederic chuckled lightly, in spite of himself. "Will you be alright then, sir?"

Lou sat back upright, hands on her knees, and nodded. "I think so. I feel a bit... lighter." She looked around the room. "It's only fitting, right? This is the room where you saw me cry for the first time, and this is the room where you'll see me cry for the last time."

Frederic shook his head. "No, you cried in front of me before that."

"Wait, I did? When?!"

"That first night, for example," he said, looking up in recollection. "At about midnight, once we reached the safehouse."

"Oh, right. The one above Le Petit Chaperon. I... I guess I forgot about that." Lou looked up at him for just a second, her gaze drifting back down after making eye contact. "It's still free, right? I was... maybe hoping to stay there for a few days, before..."

"Yes, of course. I made sure it was left available for you when you got back." He nodded to the side, correcting himself. "If you got back, that is to say. I'll have someone reach out to you there. Do you know where you'll go next, sir? Your hometown, perhaps?"

Lou laughed. "Oh, gods, no! I couldn't stand the cold now. And my heart couldn't stand the solitude." She looked down at her bedroll, and the folded letter tucked in the band around it. "I have an idea, though. Somewhere a friend recommended to me."

Frederic nodded, getting back up to his feet. He extended a gloved hand to Lou.

She looked at it for a moment, feeling a different kind of tightness somewhere in her chest. There were still so many things to get used to. But there was no hurry. She had as long as she needed to figure everything out. She took his hand, and let him help her to her feet.

She took her bedroll with her to the door that would lead her outside the castle for the first time in a long while; possibly the last. "You s'pose we'll see each other again?"

"I hold out hope we might, sir," Frederic said with a smile. He gave her a salute.

Lou saluted back, and walked out the door.

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