Her Majesty The Prince

"I messed up," Lou said as she frantically shook Chiffon awake. "I messed everything up. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!"

"Mnnh, what's wrong?" the taller maid asked as she reached up to rub her face. "It's okay Glasses, it's okay. We'll figure it out."

Lou's face was wracked with worry as she grabbed large fistfuls of the bed covers. "I couldn't even do this simple thing. All I had to do was... All I had to do was keep it safe! I don't know what's happening, I don't know what I did wrong... Please! Please help me!"

Her sleepy colleague reached out and gently put a reassuring hand on her cheek. "Are you hurt?"

Lou opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come out, no matter how hard she tried. In desperation, she nodded her answer.

"Is it hurting?" Chiffon asked.

Lou nodded, again, a little confused.

"Is it still hurting?"

Lou inhaled sharply, opening her eyes. She was the one who was in bed. Chiffon stood over her, holding a cup in her hands; the steam was visible, smelling of citrus even at this distance. Lou quickly reached for her nightstand, finding the top of it bare.

It took her a moment to realize her glasses were already on her face. She'd fallen asleep with them on. "What time is it?" she asked her colleague, still groggy from her nap. It was light out. Was it still morning? Why was she the only one in bed?

"Here, drink this," Chiffon said with a benevolent smile. "It should help."

Lou began to sat up, only to wince at the pain. Ah. Right. She clutched the waterskin that was on her stomach, still blessedly warm to the touch. Letting out a noise halfway between a grunt and a whimper, she gingerly shifted backwards until her back was upright enough for her to accept the drink. She breathed in the vapor once, twice, and then took a long sip.

That dream again. It was like clockwork. Lou took the time to take in her surroundings and let the present moment win out over the memory her brain had decided to play for her again for the umpteenth time. "Thanks," she finally said as she lifted the cup to her lips a second time.

"Of course!" Chiffon said, patting her on the head before sitting down on her own bed next to Lou's. "You slept through roll call, but it's okay! I've got good news."

"Mm?" Lou tilted her head toward her colleague as whatever medicine was in the drink began to take effect, making the back of her tongue tingle.

"You got bedroom duty, you big showoff," Sleeves said as they suddenly hopped up to the bunk above Chiffon's bed. "All that hard work sure paid off, huh?"

Lou had to roll the words around her head several times before her brain finally registered them. "Bedroom... duty?" Her eyes shot wide open. "The Prince's?!"

Sleeves retrieved a wrapped package from behind their pillow. "Don't worry, he won't eat you. Unless you ask nicely."

Chiffon beamed. "You've been working really hard lately! The head maid probably wanted to give you a chance to prove yourself. And if you do a good job, you might even get assigned there again!"

"Make it count," Sleeves said, their feet dangling off the side of their bed as they rooted through the small parcel in their hands. "You sure you're up for it? Sounds like you're having a rough one today."

"Aw, be nice, Sleeves," Chiffon said, leaning out from under the bunk bed to look up at them. "Not everyone has it easy like you do."

Lou looked up at them as well. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember a single time Sleeves had had an off day. "What's your secret?" she managed to croak out before taking another sip from the cup in her hands.

Sleeves grinned, taking out a small tightly-wrapped ceramic container from the open package in their lap. "My aunt's special medicine."

Lou frowned. "Why are you hogging it then? Can I have some?"

The color drained from Sleeves' cheeks as their mouth hung open, then twisted into an awkward smile. "Uhh... I don't think that's a good idea," they said, hurriedly putting the small container away. "I mean, it is a solution, but... it comes with side effects you might not like."

"Mn," Lou replied curtly, finishing her drink. Typical Sleeves. At least Chiffon's remedy always helped to dull the pain somewhat. She put the empty cup on the small nightstand she shared with her bunkmate, then took a deep breath. Might as well get ready. Once she got moving, it'd be easier to keep moving. She pushed her covers aside, and got up to get changed into her uniform.

Thanks to Chiffon's help, things were bearable today, unlike that first time—the one her dreams wouldn't let her forget. Once that initial panic had passed, once she understood what was happening, all the fear and worry had turned into so much embarrassment. Chiffon had helped her then, too; she had helped her lots of times, in fact. Enough to start wearing down Lou's stubborn insistence on self-reliance. It had worked for her in her past life, to be sure, but now she was learning that it only carried you so far. Sooner or later, you had to learn to rely on others just as much as they relied on you.

It wasn't a lesson she'd ever had to learn before. Lou had never thought of her upbringing as particularly sheltered, but considering how most of it had consisted of playing with the village boys and training to hunt, it was hard to see it otherwise with the benefit of hindsight. Her childhood and early adulthood had prepared her for a lot of things, but nothing quite like this.

Just one of many first experiences over the last few months. She still hadn't completely gotten used to having a body that experienced the world so directly, so thoroughly. She didn't know how many more surprises it would have in store for her. But there was no hurry. She had as long as she needed to figure everything out. That's what she'd signed up for.

Unless... unless something happened today.

Ever since she learned this assignment was possible, part of her had been waiting for an opportunity like this. Gaining access to the Prince's chambers, perhaps even running into him by pure scheduling luck... she'd been working hard for this specific reason. But she harbored no illusions about confronting him, or pressing him for answers. That wasn't part of the deal she had negotiated.

If they happened to be in the same room today, all she wanted was to look at him. That was it. A few glances in his direction, just enough to confirm that he was safe, and hopefully... hopefully happy. If he was being coerced, if this was part of some grand stratagem by someone who wished him harm, then there would be no force in the world that could hold back Lou's wrath. Even in her current form, she would find a way to exact revenge. To make things right. But if the Prince was safe and sound, then...

Then that would be it. Their lives would pass one another, and go down their respective paths.

There came a familiar twinge in her chest. Over time, it had become bearable; comforting, perhaps, if only in the same way that even pain robbed of surprise could be reassuring. This was her lot. She had given her word, and she would stand by it, come what may.

All she had to do was keep this body safe for him, in case he wanted it back. That was it. Just one simple thing. Surely, she could do this simple thing.

"Ah," Lou said, droplets obscuring her vision. She shook her head, reaching for the well-worn handkerchief she kept in her apron pocket just for this purpose. She took off her glasses—careful to turn away from her bunkmates—and wiped the lenses, then her eyes. No time for that right now. Tonight. Tonight, once the lights were out; not before. She breathed in, breathed out, and got ready to begin her shift.

Ribbon briefed her along the way, taking over supply cart duty despite Lou's quiet objections. "You'll do fine, it's just like any other bedroom, except bigger and messier. He might still be in there despite his schedule, but he's fine with us working around him when that happens." She gestured with one hand while pushing the cart with the other, the wooden frame creaking under the weight of everything they'd brought for the job. "The Prince has a system, don't mess with it. Clean yes, tidy up yes, reorganize no. Leave the piles as is, just make them neater. Clothes, you can pick up, they don't count. Same for bedding and floor, that's like any other room. Now, when it comes to surfaces..."

Lou already knew all this, of course; she'd been the one to give that briefing to a number of workers over the years. She had never been very far away from the Prince, which meant she had seen the inside of that room quite often. What she was doing her best to prepare for this time was seeing herself

in it, from the outside in.

She'd only heard stories and secondhand accounts, up to that point. She'd missed the second coronation, both for practical and personal reasons. And that meant she hadn't seen the Prince yet.

She wasn't quite sure what effect that would have on her. What she did know is that she'd have to be subtle about it. She had made a promise, and to keep it, she'd need to be very careful not to attract attention. Thankfully, she'd had a lot of practice over the last few months.

By the time she snapped out of her introspection, the two of them were at the door. Showtime, as Chiffon would say. Lou closed her eyes, did her best to let the pain wash over—and through—her, and focused on what was important: do the job, sneak a peek if he's there, don't talk to him no matter what. Above all else, stay in character. She nodded to herself. Simple enough.

Ribbon opened the door, and they both got to work.

Get in, don't look at him, get to work. Get in, don't look at him, get to work. Lou repeated this to herself like a mantra. Just in case he was there, just in case he could see through her disguise, she didn't want to tip him off. She had to keep her promise; she wouldn't talk to him. That wasn't what this was about. She would enter the room, focus on the job at hand, and think about the rest once she'd had some time to collect her thoughts. Get in, don't look at him, get to work. Her needs came third.

She took one step into the room, and looked directly into his eyes.

She was facing a direction where she hadn't expected his desk to be and he was right there glancing at them as the two of them came in and oh gods she was looking straight at him and he was looking straight at her.

He was at his desk, sitting almost sideways in his chair, leaning over on one elbow with a letter in his hand. His white shirt unbuttoned, just enough to show toned muscles that had not been abandoned in the past few months; much to the contrary. A ring—his signet ring, now several sizes too small—hanging loosely from a long, thin golden chain around his neck. His hair unkempt, brown locks tousled from strenuous activity. His chin bare, startlingly clean-shaven. His eyes sharp, focused, almost sparkling in the sunlight flooding the room. His brow furrowed in the middle of another mental calculation. The barest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, a resting expression as inviting as it was disarming. No crown in sight, but enough self-assurance and poise to make his identity unquestionable.

And all the while Lou was just standing there, taking in every single detail, for what seemed like an eternity.

But it was over in a second. Less than a second; he glanced their way, then returned to his paperwork and waved them in. That was it.

Lou wanted nothing more than to avert her gaze and get to work but her legs wouldn't move. Her body was frozen in place as she stood there, barely able to take a single breath, her heart working overtime to compensate. She thought she had been ready for this moment, but all her mental fortification did nothing against the flood of emotions overtaking her. That was her body. That was her body, with someone else inside; someone she had known for years. And he was wearing it so well.

It was like looking at a different person altogether.

Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised, considering the months that had passed; he'd had plenty of time to get used to it. But part of her had expected at least a little bit of discomfort, a little bit of clumsiness at the drastic physical changes. Gods know she'd experienced it firsthand those first few hours, days, weeks—even now she still found subtle obstacles she didn't quite know how to navigate. Her every waking hour featured at least one voice in the back of her head warily letting her know that anyone worth their salt could tell she didn't belong in her skin.

But not him, not now. Even as he leisurely read a letter at his desk, he radiated confidence. He wasn't a backwater huntsman following a harebrained plan due to a lack of options. He wasn't some knight of an unfamiliar land, a long way away from home.

He was the Prince.

"C'mon now, enough lollygagging," Ribbon whispered as she grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the door. Lou quickly snapped out of it, her eyes glued to the floor as she followed her colleague. Get in, don't look at him, get to work... Two out of three wasn't terrible.

Lou's cheeks burned. Her plan had fallen to pieces immediately. Her only hope was that he hadn't recognized her. Maybe that would be her saving grace: acting like a starstruck commoner catching her first glimpse of royalty. Perhaps every person who'd ever gotten this assignment shared that embarrassing moment as well. She would've kept chiding herself, but there was cleaning to do, and if she ever wanted to get this particular shift again she'd have to give the performance of a lifetime. Considering how difficult it had been to get out of bed, she had her work cut out for her.

Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Ribbon took the lead with the larger tasks, and so they quickly changed the sheets, made the bed, and cleaned the mirrors and windows—with neither of them being particularly tall, what could've been a single-person job instead had them take turns holding a stepping stool while the other took care of the upper half. Still, they got into a rhythm surprisingly fast, and made excellent time.

This is where Lou found comfort easily: repetitive tasks, clear objectives. Why waste time thinking when you could act? Especially when acting was so rewarding.

They had moved on to cleaning the floors and tidying up the piles of assorted... everything, when Ribbon beckoned her over. "Hey Glasses, bring the step stool over. We ought to give this shelf a second pass."

Lou nodded, heading over to the windows where they'd used it last—except it wasn't there. Had she misremembered? It all had been a bit of a blur. Maybe behind the dresser? She walked over, searching high and low. By the fireplace, perhaps? If not here, then wh—

"Are you lost, little lamb?"

Lou froze. He was standing right behind her. He had gotten up from his desk and walked over and he was standing right behind her. She could feel his breath on the top of her head, see his shadow completely enveloping her own as it snaked out onto the floor, the nearby furniture and the wall.

He had taken her body as his own, and now he'd done the same with her favorite taunt, her trademark. Was he just trying it on to see how it fit? Maybe it was her current size relative to his. Maybe it was the fact that she was not at her best, physically and emotionally. Whichever the reason, the result was the same: those familiar words sounded so much more intimidating when the Prince was the one saying them. Each syllable had wrapped itself around a different part of her body, holding it in place.

A small, terrified part of her could only laugh. That had been the intent of that phrase, back when she'd come up with it. She hadn't been oblivious to the stories about her; the wild hunter from the snowy mountain forests, turned knight for the Crown. Wolf pelt cloaks were uncommon enough in these parts, so hers stood out like a sore thumb. She'd embraced it, welcoming the fearsome reputation that came with it. If everyone called her a wolf, she'd play the part, and come up with a phrase to cement her notoriety in battle. She'd been playing that part very well, and for so very long. Those words had only spurred the tales on, helping them spread like wildfire.

Those words had been the last thing she had ever said in the body she had given the Prince. It was only fitting for him to lay claim to them as well.

She felt his hand on her shoulder; with a gentle pull, her body began moving of its own accord, turning around to face him. With his back to the early day sun, he was a mass of shadows in a halo of light. He reached out with his left hand, and lifted her chin.

His fingers were smooth, without a hint of the dry roughness she'd gotten so used to over the years. His face, even in the shade, was without blemish or even a hint of stubble. The way the light framed his features made him look like a whole new person. For a brief moment, it didn't even look like her face anymore; it was his, through and through. As she looked up at him, his mouth remained still—but his eyes smiled ever-so-slightly.

Lou had prided herself on how dutifully she'd been taking care of the Prince's body in his absence, but now she was faced with the fact that he'd outdone her even here.

It took her a long moment before she realized he'd been holding his other hand up in front of her. It had completely escaped her notice. The Prince had been pointing to the side, off to the spot where an armful of battered shields had been piled up. Right next to the step stool.

Oh. That's where it was.

Lou wanted to apologize, to bow in thanks, but her lips were sealed and her waist refused to budge. She wanted to run off to retrieve the object she'd been searching for, but her legs wouldn't obey her. She was rooted in place, her thoughts going in circles, her heart pounding in her ears. She'd spent a lifetime learning how to be the hunter. She had no experience being the—

"Sorry about that Your Majesty, she's having an off day," Ribbon said as she hurried over. She did a formal bow, giving Lou a subtle but firm tap to finally break her free from whatever spell she was under. The smaller maid quickly imitated the motion.

"Of course," the Prince said matter-of-factly, taking a step back. He grabbed a book from its precarious spot on the mantle, leafing through it. "Happens to all of us."

"Please do leave the help to their work, Your Majesty."

The Prince sighed as he turned to face Frederic, who was inexplicably standing inside by the door, carrying a plate under a silver cloche. "First: I am, how dare you; and second, what took you so long?"

Lou silently breathed a sigh of relief. With the Prince's attention no longer on her, she was thankfully able to get moving. She quickly went over to grab the step stool and followed Ribbon to the shelves, where they resumed their work. If Frederic had noticed it was her at all, he hadn't shown any sign of it; his attention was focused entirely on the Prince.

"The kitchen worked as quickly as it could, Your Majesty," the knight said as he deposited the plate on a rare empty corner of the desk. "You did catch them between meals." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you would have been better served by eating in the upper hall as planned instead of sending your captain of the guard on an errand to get food at odd hours of the day," he added, with the least amount of politeness a man of his position ever dared to use on a superior of royal blood. "You know how we feel about leaving you by yourself, especially now."

He wasn't by himself, Lou thought, trying not to eavesdrop. If it came to it, she would gladly have leapt into—

"Oh, please, I could hear the usual pairs doing their rounds outside the door. No movement outside the window, regular rounds on the far wall. I think you can stop worrying about me."

Oh. Lou's shoulders slumped, almost imperceptibly. Of course he was fully aware of the situation. Of course he could handle himself. What could she and Ribbon even do? They were a rounding error. Frederic had been correct.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I suppose we should agree to disagree on that point."

The Prince returned to his seat, putting the book down on top of the paper he'd been reading earlier. From the corner of her eye, Lou could see him briefly scan the room, before finally putting a hand on the cloche. "Alright. Is this it, then, the big surprise? Let's see it." He pulled off the metal dome dramatically.

Then he looked up at Frederic. "What is this?"

Frederic looked at the plate's contents, then at the Prince. "Your meal, Your Majesty. The chef had some leftover ingredients from breakfast and was in the middle of preparing lunch, so he improvised."

The Prince let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Yes, Frederic, I am aware of the existence of brunch. I just thought, you know, you were taking your sweet time, and..." He looked around the room again.

Lou could almost feel the heat of his attention on her as his gaze briefly passed her by. Perhaps it was all in her head. Regardless, she continued to stare at the wooden step stool in her hands, holding it firmly in place as Ribbon worked above her.

"Nevermind. It's fine," the Prince finally said. "It's just, I didn't expect it to be so..."

"Did you not want normal food? Your Majesty?"

If the Prince gave a response, it was a purely nonverbal one. For the remainder of the following hour, the room was silent aside from the sounds of metal on ceramic and paper on paper. When Lou and Ribbon finally left, the place was spotless—except, of course, for the underside of the Prince's specifically-organized piles of things he would return to later.

Ribbon led the way back down the castle's passages, rolling the supply cart. "I should've warned you about the wanton flirting. Don't worry about it, he's like that sometimes." She patted Lou on the shoulder. "You did good work back there."

Ah, flirting. That's what it was. That explained a lot.

Lou was a bit taken aback by the compliment, however. All she could remember were the stumbles, the mistakes, the many embarrassing times she froze in place or drew attention to herself. But then again, maybe that was par for the course for a first-timer in the chamber of the most powerful man in the castle and beyond. Or maybe Ribbon was just being nice to her. Either way, she'd know if she truly did a good job based on whether or not she'd get assigned to the Prince's room again. Not that it particularly mattered. But, validation was validation, and if a job could be done, Lou preferred to do it well.

She was the first to return to her bunk that day, freshly-heated waterskin in hand. The others were probably working late, or stopping for a much-needed bite with the kitchen shift. Lou wasn't hungry. She put her glasses on her side of the nightstand and collapsed onto the covers, burying her face in the pillow.

She had seen him, with her own eyes. And he was doing fine.

Part of her felt numb; part of her felt relieved. The die had been cast long ago; she had just finally gotten the chance to see the results. She could stop worrying now. She could trust that Frederic's account had been accurate, that the letter she'd received had been truthful.

The Prince was back to his routine. He was not only doing well, he was thriving; more at home today than any day Lou ever remembered. A typical day's work for him would normally be full of frustration, aggravation at whatever paperwork was at hand, frequent ripping and tearing of letters. No more. Gone were the little struggles, the ever-present pout, the mischievous grin when a sticky problem had been solved. Things just seemed to be going better, faster, more smoothly.

Before, Lou would be called on multiple times to act as a sounding board, or to grease the social wheels with a bit of intimidating presence. Now, the Prince could do that by himself. He evidently barely needed Frederic at all if he was sending him to do menial tasks; what could she possibly have to offer him?

Lou pushed her face deeper into the pillow. She would have been ready to act had any of the more worrying scenarios come to pass. If the Prince had been coerced into playing this role, she would've come to his aid. If he had been under some spell, she would've found a way to counter it, or cut it off at the source. If he had been miserable or confused, she knew in her heart of hearts that she would've come up with a way to guide him to a better place, to protect him on the way there. But none of it had come to pass.

Today's scenario had been the worst of them all: she was simply not needed.

Lou lay there for a while, the pillow granting merciful silence to the rest of the room. The hard part was over. One of the most pivotal moments of her life was behind her. Now, she just needed to live the rest of it.

But there was no hurry. She had as long as she needed to figure everything out. That's what she'd signed up for.

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